When the Heart Heals (10 page)

R
osemary forced herself to remain calm in light of Jolene's obvious distress. Leaning against the porch railing, she asked, “Did Cassie say something to upset you?”

Jolene shook her head. “She treats me fine. It's Galen French. He said he wants to come courting. Did his ma tell you?” She made a sound partway between a laugh and a sob. “He thinks I'm a lady. I can't let him find out different. I want to go home.”

Taken aback, Rosemary surveyed the young woman's face. Since the morning sickness had subsided, her cheeks had taken on a rosy tint. With her walnut-brown hair and golden eyes, she'd draw the interest of any man. Right now those eyes held a frantic expression.

“At supper this evening we'll ask my brother if he can take you.”

“Can you come too? Ma and Pa won't light into me so bad in front of strangers.”

“I'd be happy to accompany you.” She rested her hand on Jolene's shoulder. The thought of seeing Jolene reconciled
with her parents lifted her heart. It would be her turn to say “I told you so” to Curt.

Rosemary sighed, wondering how she'd managed to commit every free minute of what should have been a restful day. When she entered the house, Bodie bounded over to her, his tail whisking back and forth. “Oh, mercy, I forgot about your walk.” She glanced at the clock in the sitting room, then dashed upstairs to change from her gray leather slippers to sturdy boots. If she hurried, she and Bodie could circle the block and return before two.

She left the house, walking east along the residential section of King's Highway. When she reached the corner, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Dr. Stewart entering a two-story brick house across the street. Astonished, she realized she'd worked with him for a month and not known he lived four doors away.

“Come on, Bodie. Hurry.” Averting her head, she turned south.

Elijah leaned forward, hands resting on his writing table, and gazed out his bay window. Miss Saxon's dog frisked in front of her as she walked in the direction of the railroad tracks. Over the past week he'd observed her friend Miss Haddon accompanying her home from Lindberg's Mercantile in the evenings. Then this morning, both Miss Haddon and Miss Graves attended church with her. Taking in strays seemed to be a penchant of hers.

He settled in an armchair next to the window and opened a copy of the
New York Medical Journal
. After flipping past several pages without reading a word, he dropped the periodical on the table. A walk would help him focus. He stood
to don his jacket when a closed carriage stopped out front drew his attention.

Torn, he glanced at Miss Saxon's retreating back. Whoever his caller might be, the person had thwarted his opportunity to pretend an accidental encounter with his former nurse.

Elijah stepped away from the window, but not before he caught a glimpse of the carriage's occupant. His scalp prickled. He could refuse to answer the door, but what if the man had seen him through the glass? Knowing him, he'd stand on the porch and pound on the wooden panels all afternoon.

With a sense of doom, he strode to the entryway and opened the door.

“Father. This is more than a surprise. You should have written ahead.”

Dr. Carlisle Stewart glared at him from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Aren't you going to invite me in?” His voice wheezed.

Elijah stepped aside. “Of course.” The elder Dr. Stewart's well-tailored garments concealed his bulk, but years of prosperity had left their mark. Though they were the same height, he outweighed his son by at least fifty pounds. His sanguine complexion resembled the burgundy he liked to consume.

He handed his hat and coat to Elijah, then sank into one of the armchairs in the sitting room, leaning back to accommodate his belly. He cast a disdainful glance at his surroundings. “So this is where you've been hiding. You could do better.”

“I like it here.” Elijah gritted his teeth and seated himself facing his father. “You didn't come all the way from Chicago to criticize my house, did you?”

“I didn't come to criticize you at all. I'm here to ask for your help.”

He braced himself. His father saved that jovial tone for coaxing patients to allow him to perform painful procedures.
“You don't need my help with anything. Your practice has made you rich. The woman you married after Mother died is young and beautiful. What could you want from me?”

“I want you to return to Chicago as my partner.” He fumbled in his breast pocket and removed a handkerchief. After blotting his forehead, he balled the linen cloth in his fist. “You could carry on after I'm gone—inherit my patients and my bank accounts.”

“Your wife will expect the bank accounts, and I don't want any part of your practice. I've said so more than once.”

“My wife left me last winter for younger pastures. Apparently she grew tired of waiting for me to die.” He surveyed the room. “What do you have against a successful business? Did you take a vow of poverty?”

“I earn enough to get by.”

For a moment, his father's face sagged. Downward lines fanned from the corners of his eyes. Before compassion had a chance to grow in Elijah's breast, the lines hardened into their accustomed steely ridges. “You're my only child. If a man can't depend on his own family, who does he have?” He pushed himself to his feet and lumbered to the door.

His conscience pricked, Elijah trailed after him. “Please, spend the night before leaving for Chicago.”

“Not going to Chicago. I'm returning the carriage to a colleague in Hartfield and taking the train north in the morning.”

How typical of the man. He'd never travel just to visit him—he made the trip to see a colleague. Elijah was an afterthought, as always.

Carlisle Stewart swiveled to face his son. “My offer stands. When you get tired of beans and bacon as payment for your services, let me know.” He crossed the porch and strode toward the street.

Elijah gripped the door frame, trying to ignore the guilt
that threatened to send him running after the carriage. Was he being manipulated? Or did his father truly need him? At any rate, he'd never stomach his father's covert dealings with wealthy clients. Until that changed, he'd remain in Noble Springs.

As he stepped inside, an open buggy rolled past. Jacob West held the reins and Miss Saxon sat on the seat beside him. He banged the door shut. All he needed now was to find rats in the attic to make this a perfect day.

Rosemary tightened her hold on her hat as Jacob urged the team into a trot along King's Highway. The redbuds had faded since her visit to the Graves's farm earlier in the month, but the dogwoods were at their peak. The countryside wore a cloak of spring green. “This is my favorite time of year. I like all the flowers.”

“I like having more customers. People come to town when the weather's better.” He kept his eyes on the narrow road.

She searched for something else to say that would draw him into conversation. For a moment she wished she'd paid more attention when her mother attempted to teach her social graces.

Jacob broke the silence. “A wagon's coming.” He slowed the horses and guided them onto a grassy verge. Once they stopped, he met her eyes. “I'm glad you agreed to come out with me this afternoon. I hope we can become better acquainted.”

In their dealings at the grocery, she'd never taken time to pay attention to him as a man. With his darker skin and black moustache, he reminded her of illustrations in
The Arabian Nights.
Gray hair flecked his temples. Her heart stirred at the yearning written across his handsome face. Yet as hard as she tried, she felt nothing more for him than friendship.

“You're very kind. I always enjoy the opportunity to visit the country.”

The oncoming wagon pulled even with them. Over Jacob's shoulder, she glanced at the couple on the seat and gasped. Without a doubt, the tiny woman in the sunbonnet was Jolene's mother. The rangy man with the lined face who held the reins must be her father. Once the two reached Noble Springs, inquiries would tell them where she lived. A pulse pounded in Rosemary's temple. She wanted to be at home to provide moral support before Jolene's parents found her.

“Jacob . . .” She hesitated. To ask him to take her home now would be an affront after what he'd said.

He looked at her, waiting.

The Graves's wagon rolled out of sight around a bend.

“I must ask you to take me back.” She pointed at the dust trail that lingered over the road. “I fear that wagon is headed for my house.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You were expecting them when you accepted my invitation?”

“No, certainly not. I believe they are the parents of one of my guests—Miss Graves. She may fare better during their visit if I'm present.”

“She's in danger, then?” Puzzlement clouded his voice. “Miss Haddon is with her, is she not?”

“Miss Haddon is indisposed this afternoon.” Rosemary clenched her gloved hands together in frustration. If she could, she'd take the reins and drive the buggy herself. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “It's a private matter. Please, if we turn around now, I'll be most grateful.”

“As you wish.” He clicked his tongue and steered the team west onto the road. “Since our time together today is so brief, would you accompany me again next Sunday?”

She realized she was leaning forward, silently urging the
horses to greater speed. She relaxed against the seat and nodded. “That would be very pleasant. Thank you.”

One more Sunday wouldn't hurt and would relieve her of the guilt she felt over ruining his afternoon. Now if he would only stir the team to a faster clip. Her stomach knotted at the thought of Jolene facing her parents by herself.

R
osemary shushed Bodie's barking and opened the door, thankful to have reached home before Mr. and Mrs. Graves discovered where she lived.

Jolene waited out of sight in the kitchen.

“So, you're the one who's got my daughter.” The tanned man on the porch bunched his hat brim in his fist. He wore a faded blue shirt with sturdy denim trousers held up on his narrow frame by suspenders. Gray stubble bristled from his cheeks.

“That's her,” Mrs. Graves said. She peered up at Rosemary from beneath the coal scuttle rim of her bonnet. “I didn't tell him about . . . what you said . . . until this morning. He thought maybe you wasn't lying after all. Told him we shouldn't come, but he didn't pay me no mind.”

“Come in, please.” Rosemary stepped aside to allow Jolene's parents into the cramped entry. She gestured toward the sitting room. Now that she faced them, she didn't know what to say next.

Mr. Graves preceded his wife into the room, then stood awkwardly staring around him. “Where's my girl?”

“She'll be here in a minute. First, I'd like to help you understand what happened to her.”

He snorted. “I've got four young'uns. Don't need you to tell me what happened.”

Rosemary's face heated. “That's not what I meant.” She turned to Mrs. Graves, who had sunk onto one of the chairs beneath the window. “Just so you understand. She misses you and wants to come home, if you'll have her.”

Tears rolled down the woman's cheeks. “It's not up to me. Her pa's the head of the house.”

“I'm asking you again.” Mr. Graves swatted his trouser leg with his hat. “Where's my girl?”

Rosemary shrank away from the anger in his voice. She couldn't allow Jolene to face her father in this state, nor could she keep her away. Cringing at the scene she envisioned, she moved toward the kitchen. “I'll see if I can find her.”

“She ain't lost. Just git her in here.”

Perspiration prickled her skin.
Please, Lord, calm our hearts.
If her interference brought Jolene further pain, she'd never forgive herself.

Jolene huddled next to the back door, her hand resting on the top of Bodie's head. “I can't face Pa,” she whispered. “I'll go hide in the greenhouse and you tell him I'm gone.”

“I won't tell a falsehood.” She took the girl's arm, keeping her voice low. “I'll be right beside you. The only way to get through this is to plunge straight in. Whatever happens, the Lord already knows about it. He's with you.”

Jolene twisted her hands together. “I . . . I just can't do it.”

“Yes, you can. I'll stay right beside you.” Rosemary felt quivers vibrate through the girl's body. She tugged gently on Jolene's arm.

When they entered the sitting room, her father stared at her as though she were an insect he'd discovered in his apple trees. Her mother started to stand, but subsided upon a hard glare from her husband.

Heart pounding, Rosemary faced Mr. Graves. “Please don't shut your daughter out. She needs you, and her mother. To turn her away would be—”

“She can talk for herself.” He folded his arms over his chest.

Jolene disengaged her arm from Rosemary's and stepped in front of her father. “I'm so sorry, Pa.” Her voice shook. “I met this boy. He said he wanted to marry me, soon as he had some money saved. He talked awful sweet. I thought he loved me, so I . . .” A sob escaped her throat.

Mrs. Graves made a moaning sound. Her husband silenced her with a glance.

Using her knuckles to swipe away tears, Jolene tilted her head so her gaze locked with her father's. “Miss Rosemary must've told you he's gone. He never knew about . . . my condition.”

Her father's jaw worked, as if he were fighting to swallow something he couldn't quite get down. “Never thought I'd see the day a daughter of mine . . .”

Her face crumpled. “I just want to come home. Please, Pa.”

Sadness washed the anger from his face. Tears crept through the stubble on his cheeks as he opened his arms and gathered her to him. His chin rested on top of her head. “My baby girl.”

Jolene's mother flew across the room. “Praise God.”

“Don't carry on so,” he said, his voice gruff. “She's our flesh and blood. We got to do right by her.”

Blinking back tears, Rosemary looked away. Seeing Jolene reunite with her family left her aching for reunion with her own parents.

Elijah woke with Miss Saxon on his mind. Her presence with Jacob West the previous afternoon had taunted his dreams. Miss Graves and her predicament notwithstanding, he would stop at Miss Saxon's house first thing and ask her to—

No, he'd tell her—

He dragged his fingers through his tousled hair and swung his legs to the floor. Miss Saxon wasn't likely to care what he said after his uncharitable behavior. After dressing in a new white shirt and his best black trousers and jacket, Elijah faced the mirror over his washstand and studied his appearance. Jacob West's image floated in front of his eyes. He could understand why some ladies might find him attractive, but he was much too old for Miss Saxon. Furthermore, they had nothing in common. With her keen mind and caring nature, she'd be better suited for, say, a doctor.

He turned from the glass with a rueful chuckle. First he needed to convince her to return to her job in his practice, and if he didn't hurry, she'd be on her way to the mercantile.

Within minutes, Elijah stood on Miss Saxon's porch, hearing Bodie bark on the other side of the door. The latch clicked.

“Dr. Stewart.” Hand covering the lace at her throat, she stared at him. “A gentleman never calls this early. Is something amiss?”

Her glossy hair shone in the morning light. In contrast to the drab calico she wore in his office, she was attired in a green skirt and bodice that caused her dark-lashed eyes to resemble forest pools. He fought the impulse to smooth a wayward curl away from her temple.

Thankful she couldn't read his thoughts, he straightened and used his most professional tone. “I find myself at a
loss without your capable presence. The accounts are in disarray.”

“Did you stop by to tell me of your difficulties, or are you asking me to come to work for you again?” A teasing gleam lit her eyes.

“I'm asking you.”

Her voice turned chilly. “Do you still claim the right to dictate what I do in my own home?”

What an exasperating woman. She should know he wouldn't have asked if he still harbored any reservations. “I wouldn't think of trying to dictate to you.” His jaw tightened. “Miss Graves, or anyone else, can stay with you as long as you want. Now, do you wish to return to my employ, or not?”

Bodie nosed past her skirts and sniffed at Elijah's trouser leg, his tail wagging. The patch around his left eye made the dog look like he was winking at him. Rosemary's expression softened as she reached down to rub the animal's fur.

“Bodie's used to accompanying me to the mercantile. He doesn't like being separated all day. I'm sure you'll have no objections if he stays with me in your office.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you bargaining?”

She turned her hazel eyes on him. “Not at all. Just establishing our terms.” A smile lit her face. “We'll be there shortly.”

“I'll be expecting you.” He left the porch with the distinct feeling he'd been bested in a contest of wills.

When the doctor departed, Rosemary closed the door and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. The offer of employment couldn't have been more timely. The thrice-yearly payment from the trust fund her grandparents provided wouldn't arrive until the end of the month, and she was beginning to feel like Old Mother Hubbard.

Humming, she hurried up to her room to change into her calico dress. Cassie met her at the top of the stairs. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes, but not for the mercantile. Dr. Stewart just asked me to return to his employ.”

“And you're happy? Didn't you say he was stubborn and unreasonable?”

“He is. But I'm going to try to overlook his faults.” She rested her hand on Cassie's forearm. “If he fully accepts me in his practice, maybe the townsfolk will overcome their prejudice against female nurses. I pray that will be the case.”

“I still don't understand why you want to be a nurse.” Cassie wrinkled her nose. “All that messiness—blood and heaven knows what.”

Rosemary settled on the top step and patted the place beside her for Cassie. “I need to support myself. Nursing is what I know. Before the war came, the thought of caring for the injured never occurred to me. My family relied on my mother's herbal medicines and we were rarely ill. But then . . .” She closed her eyes at the memory. “Men were brought from battlefields to St. Louis. Hospital wagons passed me when I walked along the street. Sometimes I heard the men moaning as they jounced over the cobblestones.”

She faced Cassie. “After the first few months, I couldn't bear it any longer. I had to help, so I went to Jefferson Barracks and offered my services. Then after the war ended, I found myself with a skill I wasn't expected to use.”

“But surely you could find a husband to take care of you.” Cassie folded her smooth, white hands together in her lap.

Rosemary bit her tongue to keep from asking, “Like your mother did?” Instead, she shook her head. “Marriage is a dream. I'm twenty-seven. Pretty girls like you are the ones the few remaining bachelors want.” She patted Cassie's shoulder
and stood. “I need to change my dress. Dr. Stewart is expecting me.”

Cassie scrambled to her feet. “Do you think Faith will let me come to the mercantile in your place?” Her lower lip trembled. “It's my only hope of seeing my mother—that is, if Mr. Bingham allows her to come to town.”

“Faith would welcome you, especially considering your circumstances. Please tell her I'll stop by this evening for a visit.” She wondered whether Cassie would be of any help at the store. Her main skill so far seemed to be looking decorative.

Rosemary opened the door to her room. “As soon as I'm dressed, we can walk as far as the corner together.”