by Tara Johnson
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t be so cruel. Not after he’d begged her to return, taught her so much, become her friend . . . he’d then cast her aside like a worn rag?
With a start, she realized he was her friend. Probably the dearest one she had. When had he slipped from greatest foe to most treasured confidant?
“You needn’t worry about that man and his threats. I’ll be careful. I’ll have an escort at all times. I can hire Steward Swindle to walk with me everywhere. Why, I’ll even—”
“Cadence.” Her name on his lips silenced her. He reached over and stroked her chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll not be deterred. You’re too precious to be sacrificed because of me.”
Her pulse raced at his gentle touch. What was happening? He suddenly dropped his hand as the hack lurched to a stop. They had arrived at her home.
Joshua opened the door and helped her down. Her heart felt like lead as she trudged up the steps to the door. He released her hand.
His soft whisper tugged. “God bless you, Cadence.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter 13
CADENCE WIPED A BEAD OF PERSPIRATION from her brow as she knelt in front of the tiny grave and yanked a handful of weeds away from the headstone. The air was sultry and thick, far too warm despite the cloudy skies swirling overhead. Storms were approaching, without a doubt.
“There, little one. Your spot looks tidy now.”
She laid a bouquet of wildflowers just below Rose’s name and adjusted the scarlet ribbon, praying the coming storm would not abscond with the bright treasures. Searching the ground, she grabbed a handful of pebbles to anchor the flowers and pressed them into the soft earth, using the stones to keep the stems in place.
Low thunder grumbled overhead and she sighed, rising and snatching up the cumbersome carpetbag at her feet. She must hurry if she was to deliver the books to Judiciary Square Hospital before the rain began.
Her heart ached with every step that brought her closer. This was madness. The past two weeks had been utter misery. The walls of her home had shrunk with each day that passed. Father’s continual pampering and praise of Tate nearly drove her mad. He’d refused to let her help in his shop, so she’d done little but assist with the meager chores and baking Louisa had conceded to her care. She was going crazy with the need to do something. Every thought brought her back to the hospital, to the soldiers, to treatments and fevers and Dr. Ivy.
“Just do the next thing.”
Miss Crosby’s gentle admonition from months before had needled Cadence until an idea had formed. Recuperating soldiers often grew weary from months spent in bed. Why not organize a book drive for them? She’d spread the word through Mrs. Ramsey, and already the donations were pouring in. The first load of books had been delivered to each of the area hospitals. Only one remained: Judiciary Square.
She lugged the heavy bag up the steps and knocked lightly on the door before pushing her way inside. Everything was the same. Polished floors, white walls, the scent of ammonia, the sound of heels clicking up and down corridors, the faint coughing of patients far away, muted conversations. Her chest twisted. She should be here. This was her home.
Steward Swindle rounded the corner. His eyes grew wide. “Nurse Piper! Glad I am to see you. Please tell me you’ve got word about Dr. Ivy.”
Confusion flooded her. She dropped the bag of books to the floor. “What do you mean? I haven’t seen Dr. Ivy for a fortnight. I only came to deliver book donations for the soldiers who are convalescing.”
Steward Swindle frowned as he wrung his hands. “It’s like the man just disappeared.”
“Please.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Tell me what happened.”
“Three days ago, Dr. Ivy said he had some business to take care of on the morrow. Not to expect him the next day. All right, we said. His day away passed, but two more days have come and gone and he’s nowhere to be found. The nurses don’t seem worried a mite. Some say he’s a scoundrel, off with a woman, but I don’t believe it.” Honest Swindle’s green eyes were lined with worry. His red hair stuck out from under his cap as if he’d been running his fingers through it over and over. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my bones.”
A stone sank in the pit of her stomach. The man in the shadows. The threats. What if something had happened to Joshua? What if one of his escapades had gone awry? A hundred scenarios flitted through her mind, none of them good.
An idea formed. She looked into the steward’s face. “I know I no longer work here, but might I be allowed to enter his office?”
He looked up and down the hallway. “If anyone asks, I haven’t seen you today. Be quick.”
She nodded and raced down the corridor to Joshua’s office. The normal stacks of journals and papers lay scattered in disarray over every surface. She looked to the coatrack. His frayed green coat was missing. Nausea curdled.
She must discover where he lived. That would be the first place to start. He’d never given her one clue about his private life. Everything about him was wrapped in secrecy. She shuffled through his papers, wincing. Such an invasion of privacy, but if he was in trouble, she must know.
If she could find anything—an envelope or letter, anything at all would help.
There! A letter lay among a stack of correspondence, but this one did not bear the address of the hospital. Instead it was addressed to Dr. Ivy on a street on the other side of Washington. Dare she? She grabbed a pencil and a scrap of paper and scribbled down the address. Stuffing the scrap into her dress pocket, she braved a glance down the hallway. Empty. Voices drifted. Time was running out.
With a prayer that she wouldn’t be discovered, she hastened down the corridor and slipped out of Judiciary Square Hospital. A crack of thunder shook the sky. A fat raindrop hit her cheek as she hailed a carriage.
Storm or no, she would not rest until she’d found Joshua.
Cadence glanced up at the two-story house squatting in a modest part of the city. The street was lined with other clean, well-cared-for houses, but the worst of Washington’s slums lay only blocks away. Was this Joshua’s home? And if so, why was it so far from the hospital?
She clutched the scrap of paper in her fingers and climbed the three short steps to the door. The yard needed tending, and several plants looked wilted from lack of water. This was a fool’s errand. What made her think he was even here?
Still, Steward Swindle’s worry propelled her feet forward. If the easygoing soldier sensed danger for Dr. Ivy, she must do something.
She lifted her hand and rapped on the door, counting the seconds under her breath. The rain came in earnest now, dampening her hair and tickling her eyelashes. A raindrop found its way down the back of her neck and slipped under her collar.
He wasn’t here. Having no other leads, she turned away only to hear the door open with a soft squeak.
A young girl of no more than ten stood in the doorway. Her bright-red hair was plaited into two braids, and a spray of freckles kissed her nose. Startling green eyes stared at Cadence solemnly.
This wasn’t his house. Words fled from Cadence’s mouth as the wide-eyed girl stared at her. “I—I’m so sorry to disturb you. I must have the wrong address. I was hoping to find a Dr. Joshua Ivy.”
The girl tilted her head, curiosity darkening her eyes to emerald. “What’s your name, miss?”
“Cadence Piper. I work at Judiciary Square Hospital. Well, I used to.”
The young girl looked over her shoulder as if uncertain what to do. After a long moment, she lurched forward and took Cadence’s hand. “Can you treat a gunshot wound?”
Cadence’s pulse tripped. “I know how to clean the wound to stave off infection, though I’ve never performed surgery to remove a bullet.”
The girl looked into Cadence’s eyes, searching for something, then nodded silently. “Come with me.”
She tugged her into the dry warmth of the house. All was silent save for the soft ticking of a mantel clock. The s
prite released her hand. “I can take you to Dr. Ivy, miss.” Her green eyes glassed with unshed tears. “Please help him.”
Alarm wrapped cold tentacles around Cadence’s heart. She knelt before the child and squeezed her shoulders. “I’ll do all I can, sweetheart.”
The girl nodded and wiped her eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Penelope.”
“Well, then, Penelope, let’s find Dr. Ivy.”
She led Cadence past the parlor, down the first-floor hallway, and pushed open a door on the left. Cadence peeked inside.
Joshua lay on a bed, his color ashen. His bare chest peeked out from the blanket covering his still form. A bloody bandage was wrapped around his middle. His eyes were closed, pinched as if in pain.
Her throat constricted. She fought against the tears threatening to fall. He needed her help, not her tears.
Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she cupped Penelope’s cheek. “Sweetheart, would you mind helping me gather a few things? I need some warm water, fresh cloths, soap, and any whiskey you might have on hand.”
She bit her lip. “We don’t ever keep whiskey here, but I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thank you.”
As the girl turned to gather the supplies, Cadence neared the bed and grasped Joshua’s hand. His fingers were warm.
“Dr. Ivy, you’re not supposed to be the patient.”
His head moved against the pillow, his eyes cracking open to slits. A tiny line marred the skin between his dark brows.
“Not safe . . . for you . . . to be here.”
“Hush.” She silenced him with a soft whisper and pushed his chestnut hair away from his forehead. His skin was feverish to the touch. “You need help.”
He shook his head. “Must leave.”
Stubborn man. She straightened and propped her hands on her hips. “You’ll have to forcibly remove me, and we both know you can’t even rise from that bed.”
A lopsided smile lifted the corner of his mouth. His eyes shut. “Bossy.”
“You sass an awful lot for someone too weak to move.”
He chuckled, then groaned, his face contorting.
She sobered. “What happened?”
He cracked his eyelids open again and studied her. “Slave-buying operation went bad.” He swallowed. “Fight broke out. Pulled a gun on me. Shot in the abdomen.”
She winced. “And the child?”
“Escaped with Zeke . . . but barely.”
She let her eyes slide shut. So dangerous. “You play at life and death like it’s a game of faro.”
“Worth it . . . to see those children taste freedom.”
“But who will fight for them if you perish?”
“We’re all going to perish at some point. We must live with abandon for as long as the Lord sees fit.”
“Live with abandon.” Something about the phrase resonated deeply, but she couldn’t figure out why. Wasn’t that what she had been doing? Fighting to live a life absent of regret? To live without fear or constraints? Yet there was something intrinsic and foundational about Joshua’s passionate heartbeat. What? And why did she have such a hard time grasping it?
“Need you . . . to remove the bullet.”
“It’s still in there?”
He nodded curtly, his jaw tight.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “I’ve never done this before.”
“But you’ve assisted me dozens of times. Don’t fret. I’ll talk you through it.” He pinned her with a stare. “You can do this.”
“How do you know?”
“I was lying here, asking God what to do, and he brought you to my door.” The ghost of a smile teased his mouth. “And I trained you. I’m a good teacher.”
He trusted her. It was written all over his face. Her chest swelled. “I’ll do my best.”
“My bag is on the bureau.”
She crossed the room and reached for his bag, opening the treasured possession with a snap. The door opened, and Penelope entered with a pitcher of warm water, lye soap, and towels.
“Thank you.”
Cadence laid out the surgical tools on a clean cloth and studied them under the lamplight. She plunged her hands into the washbowl and scrubbed them with the warm water and lye soap. Her mother’s admonition from years before drifted through her mind. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
She glanced over at his instruments, used countless times to treat the maimed and wounded. An idea niggled.
“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, she dunked the instruments into the warm, soapy water and scrubbed.
“What are you doing?” Penelope’s soft voice intruded.
“Cleaning Dr. Ivy’s instruments.”
The little girl said nothing, only watched in wide-eyed wonder. Who was this redheaded flower? Joshua’s little sister perhaps? There would be time enough to ask later.
She carried the now-clean instruments over to the table beside the bed and urged Penelope to go heat more water for cleaning the tools again later. The child should not be subjected to watching surgery. Cadence’s own nerves were tight, fraying like a spent rope.
“I—I’m ready.”
Joshua drew a breath. “Pull down the cloth covering the bullet wound.”
She lifted it carefully away, wincing when Joshua hissed through his teeth as cool air made contact with the raw wound. Angry red tissue puckered around an oozing hole in his side.
“Now.” His voice was low and tight. “You must use the pliers to extract the bullet. Be careful, though. It might be best to probe with your fingers first so as to minimize any bleeding the pliers might instigate when entering the tissue.”
Lifting a prayer for help, Cadence gently massaged her forefinger into the hole. Blood oozed around her finger, making it difficult to see anything. Joshua writhed, a guttural groan causing his entire body to stiffen.
“I know it’s difficult, but you must relax,” she said, recalling the guidance Joshua had given patients when she witnessed the surgeries he performed. “The bullet will be difficult to extract if surrounded by tight muscles.”
Joshua nodded tersely and blew out small, short breaths. Blood ran in rivulets down his side. She grabbed several towels and tucked them around the wound and under him to sop up as much mess as possible. Her finger scraped something hard. Bone? No, too small. The bullet.
Sweat beaded her upper lip as she kept her left index finger near the round ball of lead and reached for the pliers. She pushed aside the flesh, and a scream tore from Joshua’s throat. Her hands shook. She looked up. His face was the color of paste. His body slumped, going limp. Her heart climbed in her throat until she realized his breath was steady. He’d only fainted. Her mouth turned to cotton. How would he talk her through the rest? Her pulse thrummed dully in her ears.
She removed the piece of lead with the pliers, dropping both into the basin of water now turning pink. Blood spilled from the hole in his side. She dunked her hands in the water once more to remove the sticky blood from her fingers. Pressing a clean cloth to the wound, she waited for a long moment until the worst of the bleeding had stopped; then, reaching for a needle and thread, she began to stitch up the wound.
When she’d finished, she used her wrist to wipe away the sweat dotting her brow. Done. Her hands trembled, but she’d done all she could. Please, Lord, let him live.
Penelope returned with clean, steaming water. Cadence poured a small cupful over the stitched incision site and gathered up the cloths from his bed. After washing her hands, she dunked the instruments in soapy water and heaved a thick sigh. Joshua was stirring.
Penelope stared from the foot of the bed, her chin quivering. “Will he live?”
Cadence rubbed the girl’s small shoulders. “I pray so. God is the Great Physician. We’ve done all we can, so we petition him and trust.”
Footsteps padded d
own the hallway. The door opened, and Cadence whirled. Two dark little bodies entered: a small boy who looked to be perhaps seven years of age and a tiny girl of no more than three. Their eyes looked to Penelope, but it was the boy who spoke.
“Penelope, you’re gonna be in trouble! You know you ain’t supposed to let strangers in!”
Penelope frowned. “This lady works at Judiciary Square Hospital. She just removed the bullet. He’s got a fighting chance now.”
Cadence knelt and smiled at the adorable children. “My name is Miss Piper. And who are you?”
The little boy studied her with suspicious eyes but answered respectfully. “The name is James. And this here’s Etta.”
The toddler ducked behind the young boy and stuck her thumb in her mouth, shyly glancing around his pant leg. Cadence fought a grin.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James and Etta. Are you friends of Penelope’s?”
“We’re more than that.”
Cadence felt as if she were in the middle of a puzzle she couldn’t piece together. “Oh? How do you all know Dr. Ivy?”
Sheets rustled. She turned to see Joshua shifting, pain clouding the hue of his eyes, but his gaze was fixed steadfastly on hers.
“I think I can explain, Cadence.” His chest gave the slightest heave. “I’m their father.”
Chapter 14
CADENCE’S BREATH THINNED as she gripped the nightstand by his bed. “Your . . . children?”
A dozen emotions ripped through her with the speed of a cyclone, but only one horrifying thought rose to the surface. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t be in here, alone with you like this. Your wife. She’ll . . .”
Shame burned her from the inside out. Images blurred as a hand encircled her wrist. She glanced down. Joshua.
She lifted her eyes to his. His expression was unreadable.
“I have no wife.”
Three children and no wife? Her head ached.
“It’s not what you think. I’ll explain. Soon. Don’t leave.”
Her thoughts were in a tangle, and she longed to do nothing more than flee to the comfort of solitude, but at his pleading expression and the solemn gaze of the children, she hesitated. She ought to at least listen. Slowly she nodded, and he released her.