Dr. Clayborne studied him for several seconds. “Let me guess. You suffer from frequent nightmares and night sweats. You seem fine most of the time, but then out of the blue something will trigger a severe reaction. You can’t breathe, the walls seem to close in, and your whole body shakes.”
Jonathan’s mouth fell open. It was as though the man had been following him around or spying on him in his room at night.
“I’ve seen many veterans come through these doors, all with varying types of injuries. The worst ones, the hardest to diagnose and treat, are the ones of the mind. Do you know how many soldiers survive the war only to take their own lives? Too great a number, I’m afraid. Please don’t let your pride get in the way of seeking help.” He laid a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “If you ever need a name, I can recommend someone.”
Jonathan tried to speak, but the words lodged in his throat, so he merely nodded.
The doctor reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my number. Call me day or night if you ever find yourself in trouble.” The man’s total lack of judgment or criticism was a welcome change. Perhaps shell shock wasn’t such a stigma after all. Perhaps Jonathan wasn’t losing his mind.
He swallowed and shoved the card in his pocket. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“The reason I know so much about this,” Dr. Clayborne said with a half smile, “is that I suffer from it myself. A good doctor gave me tools that helped me learn to control my reactions, so I can at least work again.” He shrugged. “If I couldn’t, I think I’d really go crazy.”
Jonathan’s lungs expanded, as though a brick had been lifted from his chest. “It’s good to know I’m not alone. Sometimes I really believe I’m going insane, though I’ve tried to hide it from everyone.”
“Hiding it is almost as exhausting.” The doctor clapped him on the back. “Don’t be afraid to admit you’re having trouble. After what we saw on the battlefields, it’s not surprising.”
Jonathan nodded. “A good friend has been after me to see someone. I suppose it’s time I did.”
“The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll start feeling normal again.” He held out his hand. “Good luck, Mr. Rowe.”
“You too. And thanks for what you’re doing for Reggie.”
As Jonathan stepped into the hallway to wait for his friend, a new sense of purpose filled him. If he were to have any future with Emma, he wanted to be whole again—needed to be whole again. If that meant talking to a professional, then that’s what he’d do. He owed it to himself—and to Emma—to do whatever he could to heal the invisible battle wounds that plagued him.
CHAPTER 16
Jonathan wiped the soot from his face. Cleaning the fireplace was not one of his favorite chores, but when Mrs. C. asked him to do it, he couldn’t refuse. She’d been so kind to him since they’d arrived. In a way, she reminded him of his Aunt Trudy. He hoped someone back home would help his aunt while he was here.
While Jonathan had been away at war, he’d counted on Felix, Emma’s grandfather, to look in on her and assist her with anything she needed. But with Felix gone and strangers living next door, Jonathan worried that his aunt might not be faring as well as she should. Leaving Aunt Trudy was Jonathan’s biggest regret, but his aunt had been adamant that he go with Emma.
He dumped a mound of ashes into a bin and frowned. The one letter he’d received from Trudy had been filled with overly cheerful stories of the village, which only led Jonathan to worry more, especially since he remembered that her meeting with a banker regarding an extension to her loan should have taken place by now. He resolved to pen a letter to her that evening.
Between worry over Aunt Trudy, his embarrassment at letting Reggie down at his doctor appointment, and getting nowhere with romancing Emma, Jonathan’s mood was as gray as the ashes in the grate. He swept the remaining debris onto a dustpan and rose from the brick hearth. As he turned around, a burst of laughter met his ears.
“You look like one of the street urchins back home.” Emma stood in the doorway, arms crossed in front of her.
He scowled and scooped the remaining ashes into the trash bin. Then he picked it up and crossed to the door. “Excuse me, please. I have to dump this out back.”
Emma’s eyebrows rose. “What’s got you in such a foul temper today?”
“Frustration will do that to a man.” He pushed past her into the hall and made his way toward the back door.
“What are you frustrated about?”
Jonathan almost groaned. Had he said that out loud? “Nothing. Don’t mind me.”
Frustration didn’t begin to describe the complicated mix of feelings swirling inside him. For the past few days, he’d relived the moment at the roller-skating rink when he’d almost kissed Emma about a million times. Despite the impropriety of doing so in public, he still wished he had. Who knew when he’d get the opportunity again?
Clearly, though, Emma hadn’t given the incident a minute’s thought. Or at least that’s how it seemed to him since she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. Any time he’d tried to broach the subject, she’d found a way to avoid the conversation.
Which didn’t bode well for any sort of romance between them.
He stepped outside, took the lid off the large trash can, and dumped the ashes inside. Then he banged the lid back on.
The door squeaked as Emma emerged.
He dusted off his hands. “What are you doing home from work already?”
“Corinne’s graduation is today. Randall let me leave early to get ready.”
“That’s today?” His head really had been full of cotton lately.
“Don’t tell me you forgot. You said you’d escort me to the ceremony and the party afterward.”
He swallowed a sigh. “Of course. I just need to clean up.” He looked down at his grubby clothes. “Do you want me to meet you there?”
“No need. I have to change too and fix my hair. I’ll meet you on the front porch.”
An hour later, when Jonathan and Emma arrived at Toronto’s Academy for Girls, the school auditorium was packed with excited parents and siblings of the graduates. Jonathan guided Emma to a row of empty chairs in the back.
She frowned. “We won’t be able to see a thing from here.”
“There’s not much choice unless you want to stand against the wall.”
“Let me see if Randall saved us any seats. I’ll be right back.” She set her handbag on the chair beside him and marched up to the front of the room, heedless of the stares that followed her. In her stylish outfit with matching hat, she drew the eye of everyone she passed.
Jonathan leaned back against the seat, hat on his lap, and waited for her to return. He sincerely doubted Randall would have saved a spot for them up front. Not in light of his wife’s obvious disapproval.
A few minutes later, Emma returned. “There’s no space for us. Vera seemed horrified that I even asked about it, but Marianne was sweet. She’s so excited to see her sister receive her diploma.” Emma plopped down beside him. Then a slight frown creased her brow. “That reporter is here. I wonder why he’s covering a high school event.”
“What reporter?”
She turned to him, confusion in her blue eyes. “Did I not tell you about Mr. Wainwright? He came to the office my first day there, hoping I’d grant him an appointment with Randall. Luckily Doris came to my rescue and got rid of him.”
Jonathan chuckled. “Doris sounds like quite the girl to have around.” He’d told Emma about the day he’d gone looking for her in the office and had briefly met the formidable Miss Ingersoll.
“She is rather intimidating.” Emma laughed. “But she’s actually a sweetheart once you get to know her.”
Jonathan glanced over the audience to the right side of the room. A man wearing a camera around his neck stood against the wall, staring at Emma. “Is that Wainwright?” Jonathan said under his breath.
“Yes.” Emma’s frown deepened. “Why is he loo
king at us like that?”
“I don’t know. But I’d avoid him if I were you.” Jonathan didn’t like the speculative gleam in the other man’s eyes as he dared to lift his camera and aim it in their direction. Jonathan shifted in his seat, putting his back to the man so as to block Emma.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Keeping you out of his line of vision. He’s a bit too curious for my liking.”
Emma shrank back in her chair. “Doris said he’s always looking for ways to discredit my father. Do you think he knows who I am?”
“I doubt he knows anything for certain, but he may have his suspicions. And we are not going to give him anything to use as ammunition.” He gave Emma a stern look. “Isn’t that right?”
“I’m not planning on it.” She sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re sitting far away from my father after all.”
Jonathan agreed with her and made a mental note to avoid Wainwright at all costs once the ceremony was over.
Emma walked into the ballroom of the King Edward Hotel and fought to keep her jaw from dropping. How much had her father spent to have Corinne’s party in this magnificent place?
Chandeliers sent a cheerful glow over the room, where elegantly dressed men and women were chatting, drinks in hand. In the far corner, a four-piece band played soothing background music, while tuxedo-clad waiters circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres.
Emma had never been anywhere so elegant in her life. She smoothed a hand down her silky green dress, suddenly feeling like a duck in the company of swans.
“Relax.” Jonathan’s voice sounded behind her. “You look beautiful.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “How do you always know what I’m thinking?”
“I grew up with you, remember?” He took her hand and linked it through his arm. “Are you ready to face this crowd?”
“I suppose so.”
“Good. Let’s head inside.”
They strolled into the room among the elegant tables garnished with black tablecloths and white napkins. Gleaming china, silverware, and crystal bore evidence to the expense of the occasion.
“I can’t believe Randall is paying for a sit-down dinner for all these people. All for a high school graduation.” Emma couldn’t help but compare it to her own graduation day in her small high school. The principal had provided cake and punch in the school library for the graduating students and their parents. Her grandad, Trudy, and Jonathan had attended the brief ceremony. When she’d received her diploma, the pride on Grandad’s face had brought tears to Emma’s eyes. She still had the beautiful watch he’d designed for her, as well as the leather-bound journal Jonathan had given her. That one had long since been filled, and she’d completed at least three others since then.
“Look, there are name cards on the tables. Let’s find ours.” Jonathan tugged her out of her daydreams.
“Maybe we’ll be seated near the head table.” Emma didn’t dare believe she’d be included with the family, but she hoped for a spot nearby.
She walked ahead and scanned the name cards on all the tables at the front of the room. Nothing. Frowning, she looked up and saw Jonathan waving at her. He pointed to one of the tables at the back of the room near the door, and Emma’s stomach dropped. They’d seated her in the farthest corner, like a wayward child. Did her father know about this, or was it Vera’s doing?
A ripple went through the attendees as Randall entered the room with Corinne on his arm, grinning like a proud father. Emma swallowed back the bitter taste of envy and focused on her sister. With her blond hair piled high on her head, Corinne looked as elegant as a princess. She wore a cream-colored gown with elbow-length gloves of the same shade. Jewels glittered at her neck and on her ears. Clearly in her element, the girl beamed at the group that had gathered to watch her entrance. Emma noted that she walked with no hint of a limp, so her ankle must be fully healed from the skating accident.
Behind Randall, Vera stood with Mr. Fenton, who pushed Marianne in her chair. Emma couldn’t help but marvel at the change in Vera’s appearance. Tonight, she looked ten years younger. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and she was wearing a stunning peacock-blue gown with what appeared to be real sapphires at her throat. As she moved through the room, she smiled and waved, like a queen on a walkabout amongst her subjects.
Vera’s composure only faltered once for a brief second when her gaze fell on Emma. She gave the smallest incline of her head before moving forward.
The entourage continued up to the head table. Once they had taken their places behind the chairs, Randall turned his attention to his guests.
“Thank you all for coming to help us celebrate this auspicious day for my daughter Corinne. My wife, Vera, and my younger daughter, Marianne, as well as my father-in-law, Harcourt Fenton, all welcome you and hope you enjoy the meal the chef has prepared.”
Applause broke out, as did the murmur of voices as the guests began to talk amongst themselves. Chairs scraped the floor as people took their seats, but Emma remained rooted to the spot. Not once had her father even glanced her way, much less acknowledged her existence.
A hand closed around her upper arm. “Emma, love. Come and sit down.”
She blinked and looked around, realizing she was the only one still standing. Gently, Jonathan guided her to their table and pulled out the chair for her.
The unwanted child, relegated to the back corner.
She took a seat and stared blindly at the china plate in front of her, trying to be happy for Corinne and not turn this evening into something about Emma’s yearning to belong.
The servers appeared with multiple trays of food and began to distribute the salads.
“Emma? Have you met Mr. and Mrs. Ford?”
She turned her attention to Jonathan, who gestured to the couple on his left. The smiling woman looked vaguely familiar. As Emma focused on the other people at the table, she realized that most of them worked at the Faculty of Law. Apparently she’d been seated at the employee table.
“Hello.” Emma did her best to summon a friendly smile.
“It’s Betsy. I suppose you don’t remember me. I work down the hall from you at the university.”
“Oh, sorry. I still haven’t put all the names and faces together.”
“Not to worry. It takes some time. By the way, I love your accent.” The woman chuckled. “Don’t you, Herbert?”
Her husband grunted. Not a conversationalist apparently.
“We also attend the same church as Professor Moore,” Betsy said. “Vera and I often serve on the same committees.”
“That’s wonderful.” Emma took a hasty sip from her water goblet. Why did the woman feel the need to explain her connection to the family in such detail?
“You share the same surname as the professor. Are you any relation?” Curiosity brightened the woman’s gray eyes.
“I . . . He’s my uncle.” The lie stuck in her throat this time. She took another gulp of water.
“Lucky you, being a part of that beautiful family.” She paused. “I’m surprised you’re not seated closer.”
Emma followed the woman’s admiring gaze to the front of the room. Yes, they certainly made a beautiful family: her father with his swarthy good looks and the three fair-haired beauties beside him. A storybook family to be sure.
One she did not seem to fit into—no matter how hard she tried.
The air stirred behind her as someone slipped into the empty seat across from her. Will! Emma smiled in welcome, happy to see at least one other familiar face.
“Sorry I’m late. Got held up at home.” Will’s cheeks were a subtle shade of red as he unfolded his napkin and laid it on his lap.
“You haven’t missed anything,” Jonathan told him. “They’re just serving the salad now.”
“I didn’t make it to the ceremony though.” Disappointment shone in his eyes. “How did it go?”
“Very well,” Emma said. “Corinne looked so happy as she recei
ved her diploma.”
Will turned to stare across the room where the family sat. Corinne was laughing at something, her face aglow. “I’m glad,” he said quietly. “She deserves it.”
Poor Will. The raw longing in his voice matched the angst on his face. He dropped his gaze to his plate as the server set down his salad.
The rest of the meal passed in companionable conversation with the others at their table. At least Emma would know more of the people she worked with after this. They all seemed intelligent and kind, and thankfully none of them seemed to resent her presence.
“Where’s Doris?” Emma asked Will at one point in between courses. She would have loved having her company at the table. Over the weeks at the university, Emma had come to appreciate Doris’s wit and take-charge attitude.
“She and her fiancé had to cancel at the last minute. Some family crisis came up,” Will said. “Lucky for you, I guess. It meant there were two extra seats at the table.”
Emma’s hand stilled on her fork. So the only reason Randall had invited her was because he had two seats that needed filling.
Not because he really wanted her there.
Her appetite vanished. She pushed the rest of her meal away.
After the dessert dishes were cleared, the band started up again. Would they move the tables for dancing afterward? Emma normally loved to dance—however, tonight she didn’t think she could stomach it. As soon as it was polite to do so, she’d ask Jonathan to take her home.
She reached into her handbag and took out the small wrapped gift she’d gotten for Corinne. It was a tiny silver scroll that she could wear on a necklace or a charm bracelet. Emma hoped it would remind her of this significant time in her life, marking her entry into adulthood. Emma fingered the ribbon with an inward sigh. The reality was that Corinne probably wouldn’t like it. Perhaps Emma would keep it and give it to her in private. She didn’t relish the thought of all these people watching. Best not to bring any more attention to herself.
Behind her, the double doors opened, and seconds later, a redheaded man entered her line of vision, a camera slung around his neck.
The Highest of Hopes Page 14