“What about you? The other overseers in the Land might be grateful that Father has found his replacement in Good Springs, but they will not make this process easy on you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle anything.” His confidence was back to borderline cockiness, and she liked it.
She looked up at him. “I love you.”
“I love you.” He kissed her like it was their wedding day. “Miss me.”
“I will.”
Chapter Seven
Lydia emptied a basket of Andrew’s toys on the parlor rug and sat the baby in the midst of them. As he began to play, she stared out the window at the empty road and let her eyes lose focus. Connor was gone. He would be back by Christmas dinner like he said—if he could help it. But it was a long day’s ride to Woodland on horseback, and so many things could happen to him along the way. What if he fell from his horse or got sick or had a heart attack on the road and no one came by for hours—possibly days?
No, she shouldn’t think like that.
Her heart could ache from mourning Isabella’s death, and the big house could feel empty with her husband away, but she could not let her imagination frighten her with endless possibilities. Connor had told her not to worry about him, and that wasn’t an arbitrary order but a directive meant to protect her peace. She needed a distraction.
She snapped her gaze from the road outside and sank her hand into her dress pocket. Her fingers traced the little journal Isabella had given her. She pulled it out of her pocket. It still smelled like lavender. Her aunt had said it told the story of her mother’s happiest time. Lydia’s father probably should have been given the journal first. If it were about him and his wife, he should decide who reads it. But at present, he was working in the barn and had no idea the pocket-sized notebook existed.
The house was quiet, save for Andrew’s babbles as he inspected his wooden ABC blocks. Lydia lowered herself to the rug beside him and leaned her back against the divan. She opened the journal’s cover. A tear blurred her vision as she read her mother’s name, written by her mother’s hand. The story begged to be read, so her fingers turned the page.
I expected my eighteenth Christmas to be a lonesome holiday, missing my family and dreading the future, but one week with the Colburns of Good Springs changed my life forever.
The Monday after my eighteenth birthday, my parents told me I had an hour to pack my things. At first I thought Father was jesting, but one look at Mother’s pink nose and quivering chin and I knew this was serious.
Mother’s eyes implored me to understand as she explained. “Your grandmother needs a caretaker, and I’m her only child. I’m also the heir to her property in Northpoint. The elders there have decided I can only claim the inheritance if your father and I move there immediately and take care of her. It’s right for us to go back to Northpoint.”
“Go back? But I was born here. The village of Good Springs is my home.” I staggered back and gripped the quilt rack to steady myself. “You want me to move to Northpoint with you? Today?”
Father carried an old trunk into my room and plunked it down at the foot of my bed. “We’d hoped you would find a husband before you finished school, but you didn’t. You’re still my responsibility, and you can’t stay here alone.”
“I wouldn’t be alone. Charles is staying here, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. This farm is your brother’s now.” The trunk’s iron hasp creaked as Father opened the lid. “We are hopeful that you will find a husband in Northpoint.”
I glared into the splintery trunk. “I don’t want to leave Good Springs. Not like this.”
My father sighed. “The house in Northpoint is much bigger. You’ll see. And since your brother gets this property, if you come with us, you’ll inherit the Northpoint property one day.”
“It has a beautiful orchard,” Mother chimed in. “You’ll love it there.”
“Why can’t I stay here with Charles?”
Mother gave Father a look, and he answered, “Since your brother is married now, he and his wife need their privacy.”
“She hates me doesn’t she?”
Mother raised a palm. “She does not hate you. This is best for all of us. You can either go with us to Northpoint or you can accept Cousin Virginia’s offer. In her last letter she said she would love to have you live with them in Riverside. She was sure she could find you a husband in her village. You can help her with the children until you’re married.”
“Cousin Virginia and her husband have nine children. Of course they’re eager for live-in help.” I sat on the bed and scooted away from the stinky trunk. “I don’t want to move to Riverside either.”
“But you love children. You’ve always said you want a big family someday.”
“Of my own.”
“It’s that or come to Northpoint with your father and me. We are taking the wagon, so if you go to Riverside, you’ll have to ride with the next trader who is going west.” Mother sat beside me and the mattress sagged. “I’m sorry this is sudden, but we just got the message today. We stopped at the Colburns’ house after we heard the news and told the overseer and his wife our plans. Mrs. Colburn said if you decide to go to Riverside, you are welcome to stay with them until the traders go through the village on Saturday.”
All I wanted in life was to marry a kind and godly man and fill a home with children. And even though I didn’t have any prospects, I always imagined it would be here in Good Springs. Riverside and Northpoint were both so far away—several days by wagon—and both options seemed so final.
If I went to Northpoint, I would be with my parents and someday inherit my grandmother’s property, but I would have to leave immediately. If I went to Riverside, I would probably end up a spinster nanny for my cousin’s children, but at least I would have a few days more in Good Springs to tell my friends goodbye.
I started packing. “Fine. I’ll go to Cousin Virginia’s in Riverside.”
Lydia left her finger in the journal to mark her place and glanced around the parlor. Her mother had never mentioned any of this. Lydia only met her grandparents once before they passed away, and her Uncle Charles and his wife kept to themselves at their farm north of Good Springs. As a child, she had never wondered why they didn’t gather for special occasions. It had seemed normal for grown-ups to have their own families. So why did it bother her so much now that her siblings wanted to establish their own holiday traditions too?
Andrew rolled onto his side and started chewing on a rag toy. Lydia rubbed the baby’s back with one hand and reopened the journal with the other.
My parents stayed up on the wagon bench when they dropped me off at the Colburns’ house on their way out of Good Springs. I kissed them both and took Mr. Colburn’s hand as I stepped down. He was an august older man with a soothing voice, which is pleasant in an overseer considering how the church must listen to his sermons each week.
Mrs. Colburn hoisted a basket of food up to my parents for their journey. They hardly gave it a glance. Mrs. Colburn wiped her hands on her apron as she kindly wished them well.
The whole day had been shrouded in a dreamlike haze. I hadn’t thought about John Colburn being there until he lifted my trunk from the back of the wagon. John was the Colburns’ eldest son and only living child. Seven years my senior, he had finished secondary school before I entered, so I didn’t know him well. All I knew was that he was polite and serious and would one day inherit his father’s property and become overseer of Good Springs.
As John carried my trunk into the house and Mr. Colburn spoke with my parents, Mrs. Colburn walked me toward the back door. She chirped about baking and Christmas decorations and all the amusing things we could do during my stay. Her cheerful demeanor was like a ray of sunlight peeking between storm clouds. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Once inside the Colburns’ warm kitchen, I heard my parents’ wagon drive away. I stepped to the window to wave, but they were already gone.
“There now,” Mrs. Colburn cooed as she ushered me away from the window, “this will all be for the best. You’ll see.”
Chapter Eight
Lydia drew her pen from its silver holder beside the lamp on her desk and dipped it in the ink well. She pressed the pen to a fresh piece of gray leaf paper and marked a straight line an inch from the top. “I always start a fresh chart for each new patient. According to my mentor,” she glanced at Sophia, “your grandfather, Doctor Ashton, some patients’ information will barely fill one chart in their entire lifetimes, and other patients will need—or want—medical attention so often their records will overflow a file.”
Sophia asked, “Do you use ink for all of your notes?”
“No, only for the name and personal details. I use pencil for my observations and treatment notes. I’ve never had an assistant before, but until you are knowledgeable in medical terms, I want you to report your observations to me and I’ll note the patient charts. I file the charts in here,” she said as she opened the drawer at the right side of her desk, “by the patient’s last name.”
Sophia pointed to the drawer at Lydia’s left. “What’s in there?”
Lydia hadn’t told her father about the journal yet, so she certainly didn’t intend to tell anyone else. “That drawer is… hard to open. Leave it alone.” She smoothed her hair and stood from her desk. “I’ll show you where we’ll conduct our research with the gray leaf.”
Sunlight filtered into Lydia’s office through the gauzy curtains and lit Sophia’s young smile. She clasped her creamy white hands. “This is what I’ve been waiting for!”
“I’m glad you’re excited about research,” Lydia said as she led her to the long counter between a bookcase and the patient cot. “I used to be the same way, and I hope to regain the fervor that used to keep me at the microscope for hours.”
“Used to? What changed?”
“Life!” A laugh escaped Lydia’s throat. “I got married and had a baby and my aunt needed more care and… I’m hoping your enthusiasm is infectious.” She moved her medical instruments to the cabinet above the counter and set out her microscope, slides, and samples from the gray leaf tree. “Have you used a microscope before?”
Sophia shook her head. “We didn’t have one at my school in Woodland. And when I arrived in Good Springs, Mr. Bradshaw said the class had already finished their biology lessons for the year.”
“Not to worry, you’ll get plenty of practice here. First, I’ll show you how to prepare a slide.” She picked up two slides, handed Sophia one of the thin pieces of glass, and began to demonstrate. “Lay the slide flat like this.” She pointed at the samples. “These gray leaves are at various stages in their development. We only want one layer of the leaf. If it’s too thick, we won’t be able to see the cells.”
She sliced a section of a fresh gray leaf with a scalpel, and its scent filled the air. She inhaled deeply as she peeled the top layers of the leaf apart with tweezers. “Now we place our leaf sample on the slide,” she picked up a water dropper, “and then we drip a small amount of—”
A knock on the office door interrupted her demonstration. She set the dropper on the counter, crossed the office floor, and opened the door. “Oh hello, Nicholas. Come in.”
“Thank you, Dr. Bradshaw.” He removed his hat as he stepped inside. His hair was freshly washed and his clothes clean and pressed. The smell of soap clung to the air around him. He didn’t look like a farmhand who had stopped in the middle of his day to run an errand in the village. “I’ve come to return your—” His words were cut short as his gaze landed on Sophia.
Lydia’s new assistant was peering through the microscope’s eyepiece, waving a finger across the stage and watching it pass the lenses. She had yet to give Nicholas a glance, and it was a pity she was missing his open-jawed stare of wonder as he took in her young female form.
Lydia rolled her eyes at Nicholas. “Coming to return my what?”
He peeled his gaze away from Sophia. “Your jar.” He held out the empty salve container she had sent home with him a week prior.
“That’s very kind of you, but it wasn’t necessary. How is your foot?”
His worshiping eyes had wandered back to Sophia. “My what?”
“The nail puncture on the bottom of your foot? The wound that required the salve that was in this jar, which you are so kindly and unnecessarily returning?”
“Quite well, thank you,” he said without glancing at Lydia.
She touched his arm and regained his attention. “Shall I introduce you?”
“Hm?”
“To my new assistant?”
“Yes, please do.” Nicholas lowered his voice. “We met long ago. She might not remember me, but I’d like to say hello. Everett told me she was training here now with you. He thought it might be a good time for me to return your jar.”
“I’ll bet he did.”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind.” She grinned and led him toward the counter. “Sophia, I’d like to introduce you to—”
The instant Sophia turned to look, her smile lit the room. “Nicholas Vestal?”
Lydia glanced between them. “Ah, see there, Nicholas, she does remember you.”
Sophia beamed. “Of course, I do. Nicholas is from Woodland too. I haven’t seen you since we were children. Well, I was a child anyway.” She glanced at Lydia briefly. “When I was in primary school, Nicholas was finishing high school. You were a year ahead of my sister, Alice, weren’t you?”
“Two years actually. I believe… um, yes, two years.” Nicholas’s fingers had a slight tremble that vibrated the brim of the hat he held. It was a good thing Sophia was comfortable making conversation.
“Alice and her family have been in Good Springs for three years now. I’ve been here since July.”
“Since July? I’ve been here since my aunt sent word to me that the Fosters needed a farmhand over a year ago.” Nicholas fidgeted with his hat. “I’m working to get my own flock and possibly some land here.”
“Oh, how lovely.”
Lydia leaned against her desk as she watched the awkward exchange. The young man was clearly infatuated with Sophia and probably had been coached by Everett and the other shepherds to come and talk to her. Lydia wanted to let it play out, but it would only encourage future interruptions of their work if she didn’t act now. She stepped to the door. “Nicholas, thank you for so kindly returning the jar. Most people don’t think of such things. It was very thoughtful. Sophia and I were about to begin some research, though, and we need to get back to work.”
“Yes, well, I should be going.” He threaded the brim of his hat through his fingers as he backed toward the door. “Thank you again, Doctor, for your excellent care. And Sophia, it was a pleasure meeting you again… here… seeing you here in Good Springs… where we both live now… all grown up.” His foot tapped the threshold and he waved goodbye with his hat instead of his hand. “See you around.”
Sophia’s smile held steady and she gave a feminine wave. “See you around, Nicholas.”
Lydia restrained her groan as she closed the door. She was never that young. And she certainly didn’t remember Connor being that dopey when he was first in love with her. Nicholas was a nice enough fellow, handsome even, but Lydia had the overwhelming urge to screen her trainee’s potential suitors. “He’s intrigued with you.”
“Yes, I realized that.” Sophia had already returned her attention to the microscope. “How do you adjust these lenses?”
Lydia reached for one of the dials and turned it as Sophia looked through. “It’s not my business really if you plan to court anyone, but I assumed since you want to train with me, your work would be your priority. Not that you aren’t allowed to court while you’re in training… I just didn’t consider it before I brought you on.”
“Would it have made a difference to you?”
Lydia shrugged. “It will make a difference in how accustomed I allow myself to get with having y
ou around.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you fall in love and get married and have babies, that would likely end your work here, wouldn’t it?”
Sophia let go of the microscope. “I hadn’t thought of that. I hope to get married someday and when I do… yes, I want to make a home of my own. I’m not sure how much work I’d be able to do while having a family to take care of.” She furrowed her brow. “How did you plan your life that it works so well for you?”
“Oh, I didn’t plan it like it is,” Lydia laughed. “All I wanted was to be a doctor and care for the village and explore all the medicinal potential of the gray leaf tree. There is only one bedroom upstairs because I was quite adamant that I would not marry and have children. But when Connor came along, everything changed for me. He assured me that it was possible for me to continue my work and raise a family.”
“Was he right? Is it possible?”
Lydia glanced out the window at the Colburn house. Her son was in there napping while Bethany babysat him. Her father was behind the chicken coop, taking care of their dinner. “It has been possible so far, but I’ve had my family’s help.”
Sophia picked up a sample of the gray leaf. “I haven’t been in Good Springs very long, but from what I know of your family, it seems like they would make anything possible.”
Lydia wasn’t so sure anymore. Bethany would soon marry and move away, her other siblings no longer wanted to come home for Christmas, and her father was getting older. Could she still count on her family?
She wanted to talk to someone about the way she felt, but not her young trainee. Mandy was her best friend, but as Levi’s wife she was now extended family and part of the problem. Aunt Isabella had been her confidant when fear and doubt crept in, but she was gone now. Maybe that was why Isabella gave her the little journal—as one final word of encouragement written by the only person Lydia always trusted: her mother.
Christmas With The Colburns (The Uncharted Series Book 4) Page 4