The Doctor's Undoing (12 page)

Chapter Thirteen

D
aniel made his way toward the kitchen, pleased to see light peek from under the door. Grimshaw was often known to fix himself a sandwich at this hour, and Daniel smiled as he pushed open the swinging door, ready to have a conversation with the teacher.

What he found instead was Miss Landway hauling the aforementioned ham from the icebox. A loaf of bread and a pitcher of lemonade already sat out on the counter. She startled so at his appearance that he had to dash to her side to keep her from dropping the large hunk of meat.

“Mercy! I just about sent that tumbling,” she yelped as together they maneuvered the ham to the counter. “You scared me out of my skin.”

“My apologies, Miss Landway. Seems we had the same fond memory of tonight's ham.”

She shook her head. “I mostly needed something to take my mind off the conversation I just had with Donna Forley.” She put her hand dramatically to her heart. “The tribulations of young love.”

“Another spat?” Daniel reached for a carving knife.

“Not really. More like a misunderstanding.” She opened a cabinet and pulled out two plates.

“Aren't all lovers' quarrels rooted in misunderstandings?”

“Now that,” Miss Landway declared as she put the plates down, “sounds like something a man would say.”

“I take offense...I think,” Daniel teased. Somehow, in the confines of this kitchen at odd hours, he found Ida Landway delightfully easy to talk to. Under more official circumstances, she could be vexing, annoying even, but here, talking of everyday things, he found her effervescent.

She laughed, proving his point. “Matt told Donna he wanted to wait until they were a year out from graduation before they married, so he could secure a job first. Donna took it the wrong way and stomped off thinking he didn't want to marry her at all. It would be sweet, actually, if it weren't so taxing.”

“She's impulsive,” Daniel agreed as he piled a slice of bread with savory ham. “Matt is good for her.”

“Impulsive's not all bad,” Miss Landway countered, looking as though she knew every bit how impulsive she herself was. “Donna is very good for Matty. Some things in life require a leap of faith, and it'll be Donna pulling Matty over that leap.”

Daniel gave her a doubtful glare. “Now that, Miss Landway, sounds like something a woman would say.”

“What do you say we leave off the titles after midnight? I'm just Ida. Ida who needs a sandwich. And maybe one or two of the cookies I saw in the pantry.”

Daniel wasn't quite sure he was ready to peel off another layer of formality between them. Then again, perhaps she was an impulsive Donna to his sensible Matthew and this didn't need his gift for overthinking things. After a moment's pondering, he consented. “Well, then that makes me hungry Daniel, who wouldn't decline one of those cookies, either.” He topped both sandwiches with a second slice of bread and slid one plate over to her.

“Oh, no,” she said, unscrewing the jar next to her, “it needs mustard.”

That was Ida—forever embellishing the world around her. Which reminded him: “Have you decided how to use the paint?”

“Oh,” she said, slathering a frightful amount of mustard on her sandwich, “I've buckets of ideas.”

That didn't surprise him. He was half-stunned the Home hadn't drowned in colors already. She really was trying to be deliberate about the process, wasn't she? “Such as?”

Her eyes lit up at the encouragement. “Well, I've mostly decided on wine and moss in the boys' common room and Sky Blue and yellow in the girls'.”

“No pink?” He'd made sure pink was in among the tins, knowing her fondness for the color.

Ida licked a glob of mustard off one finger. “Too obvious.”

“Well, one mustn't be obvious.” He was making jokes and sandwiches with Ida Landway at midnight in the Home kitchen. The Dr. Parker part of him was startled at the concept. Daniel, however, was enjoying himself. This friendly, spontaneous meal felt the direct opposite of his endless porch luncheons with Mother.

“I have an idea,” Ida said carefully as she cut her sandwich into four triangular quarters and arranged them on her plate.

“Yes?” Daniel recalled Chester's vexing visit earlier today and fought the knot growing in his stomach.

“What do you think of a mural on the dining room wall?”

A mural? He'd been thinking only in terms of using the colors for trim. As a matter of fact, he distinctly recalled agreeing only to the girls' common room trim, and noticed Ida had already started talking about the boys' common room.

“You want to paint a mural on the dining room wall?” A mural sounded, well, radical. Then again, could he expect any less considering he had as much as handed her a palate in his gift of paints?

She frowned. “You hate the idea. I knew it was too much.”

“I do not...hate...the idea. I don't love it, either, to be honest. It is a big jump from our current...” He hunted for a word, seeing the Deep Drab paint tin label in his mind's eye. “...decor.”

Ida cocked her head to one side. He'd learned she did that when biting back a strong opinion. “This house has paint on walls. It does not have a decor. I don't see any reason why we can't change that.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but—”

“Oh, please,” she cut in, “please don't use that phrase. You've no idea how many times I've been ‘appreciated for my enthusiasm.'” She looked straight at him, eyes afire. “I know what that really means, Daniel. I've heard every polite form of ‘no' there is, I assure you.”

Daniel shook his head. “You are by far the most direct woman I have ever met.”

She didn't seem to be one bit fazed by his pronouncement. “Well, then, I don't think I'd like whatever female company you have been keeping.” She picked up one neat triangle of her sandwich. “I find directness to be a fine thing, and too rare in some parts. Seems to me men are direct all the time. Why not women? What's the point in being all coy and elusive? If it's worth saying, it's worth saying outright, that's what I think.”

“I don't believe I'm ever at a loss for what you think.” It was true. He had friends who took great satisfaction in navigating Charleston's social maze, but Daniel was neither good at it, nor enjoyed such complexities. Ida Landway was no coy Southern rose—she was a full-blossomed sunflower, impossible to ignore or misunderstand. She offered no hidden agendas to uncover, no subtleties to misinterpret. It was refreshing. And, if he were honest with himself, it was becoming rather appealing.

“Well, I find myself at a loss for what
you
think.”

Daniel chose the most direct words he could. “I think I would rather wait until we see how the colored trim in the girls' common room goes before I even think about a mural.”

She smiled. Ida had the most engaging smile—it seemed to light up her whole body, not just her face. “I can live with that. But we should do the boys' common room as well—equal treatment and all, just like you said.”

She had him there. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Well, yes.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your approval.”

He picked up one half of his own sandwich. “I appreciate you actually asking this time.” When her resulting smile converted the knot in his stomach to an unsettling ripple, Daniel changed the subject. “Do you think Donna can live with waiting a year? I told Matt that while I've always been in favor of them as a pair, I thought it would be sensible to wait until their finances were more secure.”

“You put that idea in Matty's head?”

“Of course I did.”

Ida leaned in. “I suppose lacking a father, you're the closest thing Matty has. Donna, too. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if Matt came to you asking for Donna's hand—where else would he go?”

“He has.” Daniel hadn't told anyone—not even Mr. Grimshaw—that Matt had come to him with just that request two weeks ago. It had warmed his heart and startled him at the same time.

“Matty came to you asking to marry Donna? And you told him to wait?” The way her eyes narrowed, Daniel couldn't tell if Ida thought that was good or bad.

“Not directly. We spoke of providing for her, and for the family they might someday want. Given his history, it's understandable that Matt is very concerned about giving Donna a good home. I simply suggested that it might be easier once he had a secure post. They are still very young, even if they are quite good for each other.”

“Here I was wondering how Matty got so sensible at his age. I don't know if I'm more impressed that he came to you with questions, or that he was willing to listen to the answers.” She leaned on one elbow. “Seems a shame to make them wait, even if it is sensible. They're so darling together. I don't think anything could stop me if I were Donna and I had my heart set on running off with a fine young man like Matthew Hammond.” Then, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question, Ida looked at him and said, “Why haven't you married? You're of more than sufficient age.”

* * *

Ida watched Daniel practically choke on his sandwich. Why had such a rude question popped out of her mouth like that? Mercy, but she needed to learn how to guard her tongue! “I'm sorry. I had no business asking such a thing.”

“It is a very...direct...question, I'll give you that.” Daniel took a drink of milk, recovering from the apparent shock of her ill-mannered curiosity. “I wish I had a direct answer. I suppose,” he ventured, putting down the glass, “it is the unusual nature of my role here. This isn't the kind of post where I lock up the office and come home for dinner promptly at six.”

She was just beginning to grasp how much of a burden running the Home could be—physically and emotionally, but socially, as well. Daniel had always shown such singular passion for the place that, until meeting with Isabelle, she hadn't thought about his outside life. The truth was that Daniel
had
no outside life—or very little that she could see. Did he choose to make it that way? Or merely accept the isolation as a consequence of the time he saw fit to devote to his vocation? Either way, it was unsettling—in any number of ways—to think of the man in front of her as “Daniel,” with interests and tastes of his own that had nothing to do with the Home, rather than merely as her employer, “Dr. Parker.”

“Surely there's someone...” She began the sentence, but found herself unable to finish it. Why on earth had she let Donna's drama pull their conversation into such unsuitable waters?

“There was a young woman once,” Daniel began to her surprise, “when I was not much older than Matthew. I'm afraid I lacked Matt's charisma with females, and it felt like years before she even recognized my existence.”

Daniel wasn't handsome in the traditional sense—he would never command a room the way Captain John Gallows did—but he had deep, intelligent eyes, a strong jaw and a wonderful, if rare, smile. Ida remembered how he'd looked when she had found him sleeping in the staff dining room and felt her heart skip a little. He kept himself under tight rein, but there was far more to him than the carefully controlled exterior he usually presented. His laugh, for example, was delightful. And he had certainly looked dashing enough in the fencing class. Had he been more like that as a young man? Would she have noticed him were she Donna's age?

“But she did notice you? Eventually?”

“We had a very brief, very carefully orchestrated courtship.” His face did not show this to be a happy memory.

“And then?”

Daniel sighed, lifting his sandwich with such an air of “life goes on” resignation that Ida felt it push against her chest. “And then Sarah Jane met another, far more exciting man who swept her away from me.”

“He stole your girl?” Ida balked.

That brought a dark laugh from Daniel. “Well, now, that's a direct way to put it, yes. It certainly felt that way at the time. But I soon realized Sarah Jane was never really mine to start with. The whole thing was more contrivance of her parents than any real affection on her part. But I was sure I loved her. As sure as one can be at that age.”

“I think you can be. Donna and Matty are sure. But since then?”

“Oh, my pedigree ensures that I'm invited to all the proper events, where I find I have a respectable line of women seeking attention. But as I said, once they get to know me better, the demands of the Home don't sit well with them. They quickly learn there are better prospects elsewhere.” He said it with such an astounding lack of bitterness that Ida's heart twisted. He was a fine man. Everyone deserved to know love, especially someone who gave himself so completely to others the way Daniel Parker did.

She looked up to find Daniel staring at her. “And you?”

Ida hadn't expected him to turn the conversational tables on her, but fair was fair. “Oh, there were the usual infatuations growing up. And I will say there were soldiers at Camp Jackson who showed a very flattering level of interest, but mostly I've just wanted adventure more than romance. I was never sure I could trust my impulsive nature, anyways. Today's perfect man always seemed poised to end up as tomorrow's silly regret.”

“A very independent view.” He was still staring, and the attention was making her stomach wiggle under the scrutiny. “Will you remain independent, then?”

“Oh, no, I'd like a fine match whenever God gets around to it. I figure His timing is bound to be better than whatever I might ask for, anyways.” She looked down at the remaining quarters of her sandwich, surprised at how his eyes could fluster her. “For now, I'm just glad to be here,” she said, just because she wanted him to know how fond she'd grown of the Home. “I think God's put me right where I belong.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Daniel said. There was a warmth to his voice she'd never heard before. “I'm very glad you came to the Home.”