The Lady Who Lived Again (9 page)

“That won’t be necessary,” Maddie said. “He’s—”

“Get him up on the table,” Jace ordered as he washed his hands in a basin of water.

“He’s all right. He’s—”

“Now,” he said, spinning around. He dried his hands, then prepared a fresh compress.

Maddie set Joey gently on the table.

“Lie back, son,” Jace said, nudging Maddie away. Joey’s eyes widened in fear, and he started to cry. Ignoring the child’s protests, Jace lowered him to his back. “Let’s have a look,” he said as he examined the injury with competent efficiency.

Jace dabbed at the blood, his moves deliberate and swift, as though his body was one step ahead of his brain. Unlike Maddie’s trembling hands, his were steady and strong.

Maddie wrung her bloodied hands on her skirts and watched. Jace furrowed his brow, then leaned in for a closer look. His grim expression worried her. Would the blood come gushing? Had Maddie been too quick to deem Joey healed?

“It’s slowing,” Jace said, reaching for the compress.

The Clearys huddled closer, responding in unison. “Slowing?”

“So it appears,” Jace answered, dabbing at Joey’s foot.

“How?” Mrs. Cleary spun to Maddie. “What did you do?” She swiveled back to Jace. “What did she do?”

“She did nothing,” Jace snapped. “The blood is clotting.” Releasing Joey’s foot, he straightened to face the Clearys. “The puncture was deep enough to sever important vessels, but the blood appears to be clotting now.” He turned to Joey. “How do you feel, son?”

The boy averted his teary eyes, lips quivering.

Maddie couldn’t blame the child. The intensity in Jace’s expression would frighten a wildcat.

“Answer the doctor now, Joey,” she said. Sidling to the table, she patted Joey’s knee. “How do you feel?”

“I want to go home,” sniffed the tiny boy.

“Of course you do, sweetheart,” Maddie cooed with a smile. She turned to Jace. “May I help him up?”

“No, you may not.” He turned, preparing a fresh basin of water. “Punctures are prone to infection. The wound must be cleaned.”

Maddie soothed the boy as Jace carefully cleaned and bandaged the small foot.

“Get him to Troy,” Jace told the Clearys. “With his condition it’s possible the bleeding may resume.”

Maddie shook her head. “I don’t think—”

“Keep his foot raised, and keep him as still as possible during the trip. You’re taking a spring wagon?” he asked as he hefted the boy from the table and deposited him in his father’s arms.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ll give him a bit of laudanum to ease his nerves. Cushion him in the wagon so he’s not bouncing around.”

Mrs. Cleary nodded furiously. “Thank you, Doctor Merrick.” She brushed past Maddie, then stopped, turning slowly to face her. The woman’s reproachful attitude toward Maddie hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen her, but the harsh line of her mouth softened a bit now, and her cool eyes seemed warmer. “Thank you,” she uttered softly in Maddie’s direction before she hurried after her husband.

Jace escorted the trio to the waiting wagon outside. Maddie watched through the dingy window as he helped load Joey inside. Wringing her balled fists, Maddie tried to relax. Her simple healing efforts were not always successful. Her failure to cure Grandfather had proved it. But this attempt had been a resounding victory, and she knew, with sudden clarity, that she could no longer stand idly by as her neighbors bled and suffered—even if it meant that they would soon despise and fear her more than they already did. She would be careful to avoid exposure, of course. But she would not squander her gift.

Exhaling her pent-up tension, she began to calm. A few minutes later the wagon ambled down the street.

Jace strode into the house and closed the door firmly behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She blinked. “Pardon me?”

“I’m the doctor here, Madeline, not you.”

“Oh, for goodness sakes.”

“I strongly suggest you remember that.”

“I was merely attempting to soothe the child. And I thought I might apply an herbal poultice that Rhetta sometimes uses for household cuts. But it was unnecessary in the end…”

“An herbal poultice? For bleeding?” He glared. “These are my patients. Do not ever undermine me again. There will be no simple country remedies or backwoods mumbo-jumbo in this office.”

“The boy was frightened out of his wits. I had to do something.”

“The boy could have bled out on my table! Had that puncture been a fraction deeper, he very well might have!”

“I—”

“You’re not qualified to treat patients! That’s not why you’re here!”

Maybe not, but she was here. And she’d saved Joey’s life. She snapped shut her lips, biting back a retort that would turn his world on its side.

“Well, I don’t even wish to be here!” she spat instead. “And I certainly don’t wish to be a nurse. Or a housekeeper.”

“And I didn’t wish to be your fiancé. So we’re even on that score.” He strode toward the examination room. “Come wash your hands,” he called over his shoulder.

Maddie followed, then proceeded to wash her hands in the basin of water he’d prepared. He fumbled through his medical supplies. “For someone who doesn’t wish to be a nurse, you certainly spend a good amount of time with your hands soaked in blood.”

She frowned, scrubbing harder, but had no response.

“Your unsterilized hands, no less,” he muttered. “Even a minor infection can turn deadly.” He tossed her a towel. “These are people, Madeline, not wounded deer.”

She dried her hands, then forced herself to face him.

His voice softened as he collected himself. “I understand the instinct to help, but your interference could have hindered my treatment. Or made matters worse.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but his scowl warned her against it.

“You will stick to the tasks of organizing the office and patient records. Nothing more. Is that understood?”

His condescending tone was infuriating. She nodded, simply to appease him. If nothing else, this incident had taught her one thing about Doctor Jace Merrick. Even if she performed a miracle right under his nose, he would likely never believe it.

Jace spent the next morning on another house call, where he remained for several hours treating a man with a fractured arm. Another of the region’s sudden storms struck shortly after he departed from the secluded clapboard house in the woods, making for a slow trip down the mountain. On the outskirts of town, several cabins and cottages surrounded the numerous lakes in the area. Jace hoped he would soon have a better understanding of the roads and pony paths leading to these more remote locations.

House calls comprised a good portion of country practice, so it was imperative to maintain the buggy in prime condition. Traveling to treat patients in the winter months would be daunting, not to mention precarious in the dark. A few summer rain storms, and already the route was a mess.

The buggy trudged and slid in the mucky ruts, and rain battered the top. The long trips usually provided Jace with time to reflect on his patients and budding practice. Today, though, his thoughts seemed to wander to Maddie. During the trip up the mountain, and all last night, he had remained furious with her about what happened with Joey Cleary. She had no business challenging his orders when it came to his patients—it was dangerous on every level. And yet he couldn’t help but admire the way she argued her own cause after the fact. The woman was infuriating. Maddening. And far too distracting.

He’d come very close to kissing her again yesterday. So close, in fact, that he’d been tempted to send her home right then and there—to put an end to this ridiculous scheme of hers before it truly began. But he’d agreed to play her fiancé, and after feeding Henry the bait to set the charade in full motion, he was now bound to see it through.

If he was being honest, part of him wanted to continue with her. He wished he could claim true indifference, but how could he? Even now, his brain was busy worrying about her, fearing she might be caught walking home in the midst of this downpour. Trees swayed with the force of the wind. The damage to his roof proved how quickly storms in this area could intensify. If Maddie weren’t still at the office when he arrived, he’d go back out to find her.

By the time he reached the office it was late afternoon, and the storm had turned fierce. Maddie stood at the window, as if awaiting his return. While he could justify his relief at finding her safely sheltered, the sudden vitality in his weary steps as he unrigged the buggy told him something else. He was happy to see her.

Christ Almighty.

He snatched up his bag, then dashed for the door. He ducked inside, shaking off the rain. Maddie greeted him with a towel and took his bag.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he said into the towel as he dried his face.

“You are?” Her pensive smile warmed the chill from his bones.

“This storm is a mean one.”

Her smile fell.

“I thought it best to wait it out,” she said as she reached for the towel. She hung it on a peg by the door, then followed him down the hall. “The mountain road can be a challenge in bad weather. I was beginning to worry.”

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone worried for him, and her concern caught him off guard.

“The trip was unpleasant, but no broken wheels.” He glanced around, surprised by what he saw. She’d cleaned and arranged the patient waiting room. He could actually see the braided carpet beneath the large center table and the chairs lining the walls.

“It was damp in here,” she said to explain the fire crackling in the hearth.

Flames flickered, setting the room in a golden glow. The vase of lilacs on the mantel scented the once-musty air. In one day, her hard work and subtle touches had transformed the room from dreary disarray to a cozy, comfortable place for his patients.

“You’ve done a fine job with the room.”

She smiled, and he welcomed the jolt of energy that coursed through his veins. Her dark hair was pinned up, but the twined knot had loosened considerably during her chores. A few wisps brushed her temples and coiled along her neck. The unfettered look stirred his senses. As did the open buttons at her delicate throat. He took a deep breath to ward off his arousal. The smell of onions drifting from the kitchen made his stomach growl.

“Mariah Whitby stopped by with a nice roast beef,” she said. “Compliments of her mother for your help yesterday morning.”

“Is that what smells so good?”

“I’ve cooked supper. Henry told me you were on the mountain for a house call until almost midnight. Since you were out so early this morning, I thought you might be hungry.”

Jace was unused to this kind of attention—he’d been on his own for so long. Her concern for his welfare was as discomfiting as it was pleasing.

“I’m famished,” he admitted. But not solely for food. Coming home to a woman certainly had its advantages, and he’d never considered them as thoroughly as he did right now. He pushed away his base longings as he peeled off his wet coat.

“It’s still pouring out there,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll join you for supper.” She tilted her head, lips quirking. “Unless you fear dining with me would threaten propriety.”

She was incorrigible. And as alluring as hell.

“I can’t very well send you out in the rain.”

She grinned like a cat that had cornered a mouse. “Rhetta does most of the cooking at home, but I can manage a simple pot roast. It should be ready soon. Some coffee in the meanwhile will warm you up.”

After removing his boots and changing his clothes, he met her in the kitchen. She’d tidied here, too. The linoleum floor shined, as did the white tiled walls. A jar of flowers sat between two place settings. The room fairly breathed with her presence. Pots steamed on the stove. He sat, watching as she darted about, serving the coffee and checking the doneness of the roast and potatoes. The checkered apron tied around her small waist accentuated the tantalizing curve of her hips. The plainness of her beige dress did nothing to camouflage the shapely figure beneath, and her confident flirting told him she knew it. She turned suddenly from the stove.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said. “I’m not one to stand idle during emergencies.”

“So I’m discovering.”

She smiled, reaching for her market basket by the sink. She pulled out something wrapped in newspaper, then placed it on the table next to his steaming coffee.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A peace offering.”

What was she up to now? He eyed her warily, but she seemed quite sincere. He opened the newspaper, uncovering the item inside. The wooden box was the size of a brick, but much lighter. The forest scenery carved into the lid was exquisite. Jace turned it from side to side, inspecting the well-crafted piece. He opened and closed it, his eyes honing in on the small, engraved initials on the bottom corner.
M.S.
He glanced up. “Did you make this?”

“Along with sixteen others,” she said. “I chose that one for you because of the deer in the trees.” She pointed. “See?”

He stared at the tiny deer nestled among the pines. Madeline Sutter was an artist. Her talent for such intricate work surprised him. “I’m impressed.”

She shrugged. “It keeps me busy.”

He contemplated his response. While he hated to spoil the pleasant moment and their upcoming supper, he had to broach the subject sometime. It was the crux of their involvement and the reason she was here, despite how easy she made it to forget.

“Is that how you coped? By keeping busy?”

She stiffened, backing away. “I started carving because it was something I could do from my bed while my leg healed. Grandfather had taught me how years earlier, but back then I was too consumed with social activities to squander time on solitary ones.” She smiled at the irony. “After the accident, Grandfather felt I needed something to occupy my mind.”

“To help you forget?”

She nodded, her gaze drifting away.

“He’s a smart man, your grandfather. I, too, have prescribed hobbies and other pursuits to distract patients from dwelling on their pain.”