Josephine

by Beverly Jenkins

  He smelled bacon as soon as he got out into the hallway. It made him smile. Jo came out of Belle’s room just then, dressed in a wide navy skirt and a lighter blue short-sleeved blouse. Her hair was done, her eyes bright. Adam thought her dark beauty a lovely complement to the morning. “Morning, Jo.”

  Jo hadn’t expected to see him, and his presence caught her by surprise. His gorgeous brown eyes and bone-melting smile made her heart flutter. She quickly willed it to stop. “Morning, Adam. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, and you?”

  “I’m a little sleepy. Belle and I were up late.”

  “Doing what?” he asked as they moved to the stairs.

  “Telling ghost stories.”

  He grinned. “Ghost stories?”

  “Yep.”

  At the top of the stairs, Adam paused. Yesterday, it had taken him quite some time to maneuver his way up to his new room. He doubted this morning’s descent would be any faster.

  Jo could see the concern on his face. “Are you going to be able to go down on those crutches?”

  “Yes, but it may take me a while. You go on ahead.”

  “And have Mama fussing at me for not helping you? She’ll have my head if you fall and go tumbling down the steps like a log.”

  Adam chuckled. “All right, but don’t blame me if that bacon I smell is cold by the time we get to the table.”

  Jo waved off his concern. “No matter.”

  Adam maneuvered his way to the railing. He handed Jo his crutches, then slowly and carefully hopped his way down, one step at a time. “Good thing your house isn’t any bigger,” he said as he went.

  Perspiration began to shine on his forehead and his breathing had shortened to pants. Jo was concerned. “Is the ankle paining you?”

  “No,” he lied.

  Jo could see the cringe that flared over his features every time he gained a step. He was in pain whether he wanted to admit it or not. “Bea Meldrum is coming by later today. Maybe you should have her take a look at it.” The aged Mrs. Meldrum wore many hats, including that of community healer.

  “I’m fine.”

  Jo didn’t believe him, but she didn’t argue. If he wanted to play the big brave soldier so be it, but she was going to talk to her mama about him anyway. His distress was quite obvious.

  By the time Adam made it to the bottom of the steps, his breathing was labored. His face was so dewed with perspiration, Jo offered him a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “You’re not fine, Adam Morgan.”

  He grinned through the pain. “No?”

  She shook her head and sighed impatiently.

  “Please don’t make a fuss,” he pleaded.

  Jo handed him back his crutches. “I won’t. I’ll leave that to Mama.” With that, she strode off.

  “Jo!” he called, wanting to stop her. “Come back here!”

  But Jo didn’t turn around.

  Seven

  As it turned out, Jojo didn’t have to say a word to her mother about Adam’s condition. By the time he made his way to the table, he was so winded and pale, Cecilia took one look at his face and declared, “You look terrible, Adam. Aren’t you feeling well?”

  “I’m fine.” He took the empty chair at her side.

  Viewing him skeptically, Cecilia reached over and placed a motherly palm against his forehead. “You’re on fire. Is it the ankle?”

  “I’m all right, Mrs. Best.”

  “No, you aren’t. Bea’s coming by this morning. We’ll have her give that ankle a look-see.”

  Adam didn’t want to be fussed over. “But—”

  “No buts. You’re under my roof and my care. I’d dishonor your mother if I did anything less.”

  The mention of his late mother made Adam instantly contrite and he mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Adam looked over at Jo and saw the concern on her face. In an attempt to allay her fears, he threw her a quick wink. That turned her look just as unsympathetic as her mother’s, so Adam helped himself to the breakfast offerings.

  Once the meal was finished, Adam sat back satisfied. It had been quite some time since he’d had a real meal. Belle’s biscuits tasted as if they’d been made in heaven. He’d had eggs and Canadian bacon. The only thing marring absolute contentment was the pain in his ankle. It was now singing like an opera star, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the searing increased.

  Mrs. Best must have sensed the rise in his discomfort, because she said, “As soon as Bea gets here, you are going to be her first order of business.”

  “I’m fine.”

  The three Best women shook their heads at his stubborn claim.

  When Mrs. Meldrum stopped by later to drop off the eggs Mrs. Best had ordered, Cecilia brought her into the parlor to see Adam. Mrs. Meldrum had known his family before the war, too. “Good to see you, Adam. Sorry to hear about your ma’s passing.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Meldrum.”

  “Cecilia says you’re in quite a bit of pain. Let’s see that ankle.”

  Adam sighed. It was plain he was not going to win this war, so he pushed his chair back and stuck out his leg so that Mrs. Meldrum could evaluate him.

  While the other ladies looked on, she began to undo the swaddling protecting his ankle. She asked Adam, “When were you injured?”

  “About six weeks ago, but I haven’t seen a doctor in two.”

  As Bea gently removed the bandages, Jo could see the lines of pain crossing Adam’s face. Just having the wrappings taken off made him stiffen and bite his lip. Her heart went out to him. Fueled by nothing but concern for this old friend, Jo went to his side, and said, “Here, hold my hand. Squeeze if you need to.”

  He smiled through the beads of sweat pouring down his face, but took her hand. “Thanks.”

  She nodded.

  The wound was infected, so much so that the putrid smell of the flesh permeated the room. Bea noted, “You must have the constitution of a horse, Adam Morgan. This would have felled a lesser man.”

  Jo took one look at the swollen, discolored flesh and quickly averted her eyes; she doubted she’d ever make a good nurse.

  Bea said, “This is going to have to be drained, I’m afraid. It looks as if it didn’t get cleaned out very well before it was bandaged.”

  Adam had no trouble believing that. He was sure the doctor had done all he could, but with the war on, the conditions in the field hospitals were neither sanitary nor comforting. On top of that, many of the black soldiers were the last to receive care; Adam had lain on a cot for three days before being treated.

  Bea looked over to Cecilia. “He needs to be in a bed so that when I’m done cleaning the wound, he can go right to sleep.”

  Cecilia asked Adam, “Do you think you can make it back upstairs?”

  “Sure,” he gritted out.

  Jo released his hand and gave him the crutches. All of the women hovered, showing worry and concern.

  Adam struggled to get himself upright. The ankle was throbbing as if an elephant had stood on it. Gathering his strength, he forced himself across the room.

  Bea said, “I’m going to need lots of hot water. Belle, can you put some on to boil?”

  Belle hastened to the kitchen.

  “And I’ll need thread, Cecilia. Thread, and your sharpest knife.”

  “Knife?”

  “Yes.” She said no more.

  Cecilia went to take care of the requests while Jo and Bea accompanied Adam to the stairs.

  As Adam slowly maneuvered his way back up the steps, he tried to maintain a humorous air. “The next time I go up these steps, I’ll do it riding a horse.”

  But by the time he reached the top, the tremendous pain in his foot and ankle had reduced him to a stoic silence. He stopped to catch his breath.

  Jo asked him in a voice softened by concern, “How are you doing?”

  “Almost to the finish line. Do I get to kiss the girl if I take first place?”

  She smiled. “Let’s just get you to
bed. We’ll talk about kisses once you’re better.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, Jo.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a moment.” Humor tinged her voice.

  He gave her a lopsided grin then hobbled into his room.

  Jo and Belle waited tensely downstairs while Bea, assisted by Cecilia, worked on Adam. A few moments later, the sound of him roaring like an injured mountain lion shook the house and Jo, as well. A shaken Jo turned to Belle. “What do you think has happened?”

  “Mrs. Meldrum probably had to cut open the flesh to let out all the poisons. Poor Adam.”

  Jo wanted to go up and see for herself how he was faring. She didn’t though; she didn’t want to be in the way, so she waited, and paced, and waited some more. Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Best came down.

  The anxious Jo asked, “Is he going to be all right?”

  Her mother nodded reassuringly. “Bea seems to think so. There was dirt and pieces of shrapnel left in the wound, but it appears to be cleaner now. He’s going to be off his feet for a while. Adam’s very lucky. Another week or so and he might have lost his leg.”

  Jo shuddered in reaction. She was glad to hear he would recover, however. “Are you still going down to Toledo for your lecture?”

  Cecilia Best was a well-sought-after speaker on both abolitionist and women’s issues. One of Toledo’s Women’s Societies had invited her down to speak at their Founder’s Day celebration.

  “The speech isn’t until Saturday, so I’ll wait and go later in the week. I want to make certain Adam is healing.”

  Jo thought that a good idea.

  “Is Mrs. Meldrum done?” Belle asked.

  “Almost. She was finishing up the last of the stitches when I left her.”

  “May we go up and see him?” Jo asked.

  “I don’t see why not, but don’t stay long. He’ll need his rest.”

  “All right, Mama.”

  Jo and Belle hastened upstairs. They reached the room just as Mrs. Meldrum was exiting. She was carrying a basin filled with the soiled bandages and other items she’d used to help Adam. “How is he?” Jo asked her.

  Bea smiled. “He’s doing well. I gave him something that will help him sleep. He’s asking for you, Josephine.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the only Jojo here.”

  Jo turned startled eyes to Belle, who gave her a knowing smile in response. Mrs. Meldrum headed for the stairs and Jo and Belle entered the room. Even though it was early afternoon now, the drawn drapes had plunged the room into shadows.

  Jo advanced slowly over to the bed. “Adam?”

  He turned his curly head to her and gave her a sleepy smile. “Hello, beautiful.”

  Embarrassment burned Jo to her toes. “You must stop calling me that.”

  “Why?” he teased softly. “You are, you know.”

  Jo saw the smile on Belle’s face and said, “It’s the medicine talking, Belle, not him.”

  Adam shook his head slowly. “No, it isn’t. You’ve grown into a very lovely pest, Jojo. Hasn’t she, Belle?”

  Belle shook her head. “We came up here to ask how you’re feeling.”

  “Sleepy. Felt that knife, too, but now I feel like I’m floating away.”

  Belle told him, “Well, you talk to Jojo for a moment, then go on to sleep.”

  “Yes, Miss Belle,” he murmured, then corrected himself. “I guess that should be Mrs. Belle, now.”

  Belle grinned and shook her head. “I’ll come back and check on you later.” She turned to Jo. “Don’t stay too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  Belle’s departure left them alone.

  Adam looked at Jojo’s increasingly hazy features, and asked, “Will you come and sit?”

  Jo took the few steps to the big overstuffed chair beside the bed and sat down.

  When she was settled, he said faintly, “Good. Now your face will be the last thing I see before I doze off.”

  “You’re lathering it on rather thick, aren’t you?” Jo cracked.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes drifted shut for a moment, then he added, “I forget that you’ve known me most of your life.”

  “Yes, I have, and I am therefore not susceptible to your Canadian charm.”

  His smile wobbled. “Pity. I’d hoped to turn your head.”

  “You have. Watch.”

  Jo slowly turned her head back and forth.

  He grinned. “Pest.” His voice then took on a serious note. “I’m glad I’m here.”

  “We are, too. You should sleep now.”

  He reached out and took her hand. “Stay until I do?”

  Jo nodded.

  After he fell asleep, Jo gently freed her hand. Because she was alone and no one would know, she leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek before tiptoeing out. Little did she know that in the silence that followed her departure, Adam Morgan smiled.

  Two days later, Mrs. Meldrum thought Adam’s wound had healed well enough for Cecilia to travel to Toledo without worry. She’d also promised to stop by every few days and check on Adam’s progress. Vera Firestone would be accompanying Cecilia on the train ride, and the two friends planned to return Sunday afternoon. Since Belle had to travel to Ann Arbor that day, she drove the older women to the station, leaving Jo alone to look after the house and Adam until evening.

  Once Cecilia and the others were gone, Jo ran over to her shop to put a note on the door notifying her customers that all appointments would have to be delayed until tomorrow. Jo didn’t want to leave Adam in the house alone. He’d been forbidden to attempt the stairs, and with Belle gone for the day, he’d need Jo’s assistance with meals and such.

  After posting the note, Jo returned to the house. She went up to his room to retrieve his breakfast dishes and knocked softly on the closed door. “Adam?”

  “Come in,” he called out.

  Jo entered to find him seated in a chair with his back to her, enjoying the sunshine pouring in through the porch’s open French doors. This was her first visit with him today. “Morning. How are you feeling?”

  He swiveled his head around so he could meet her eyes. “Not bad.”

  For Jo, the intensity of his gaze was like staring up at the sun; both were blinding. “I…came up to get your breakfast dishes. Are you done?”

  “Yep.” They were piled on a tray on the bed.

  Jo retrieved the tray. “Do you need anything?”

  “How about some company?”

  Jo paused. There would be nothing improper in saying yes; Adam was family, but there was something building between the two of them that was still too unclear to see, and too unfamiliar to name. “Okay. Let me take this tray down, and I’ll be right back.”

  Downstairs, Jo told herself that his request for company had nothing to do with his supposed attraction to her; he was simply lonely. Finding a logical explanation for her pounding heart proved more difficult, however. Willing herself to calm down, she went back upstairs.

  When Jo returned, the way Adam looked at her made her wonder how any young woman alive kept her faculties in his presence. He told her, “I was thinking of moving out onto the porch. Join me?”

  “Sure.”

  Jo watched him prop himself up on the crutches.

  “Ladies first,” he said gallantly.

  Jo walked over to the French doors and he followed. Outside, she sat down on the smooth wooden bench positioned next to the porch’s railing, then moved over so he could sit, too.

  “Beautiful day,” he remarked.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Jo could feel the warmth of him next to her, and found it hard to be nonchalant. His presence made her very self-conscious.

  Adam sensed her nervousness and searched for a way to set her at ease, but she asked first, “Would it be rude of me to ask how you were injured?”

  He shook his head. “No. We were about to go on patrol and were surprised by some Re
bs. A cannonball exploded about a foot from where I was standing saddling my mount. I remember being blown over and hitting the ground—that’s all. When I awakened I was in the field hospital with most of the flesh of my ankle gone.”

  Jo shuddered. She thought about her brother and father and prayed they weren’t in a field hospital somewhere. “You were lucky.”

  “Very. The man standing to my left was killed.” Adam suddenly found he didn’t want to talk about the war any longer. He’d had enough experience with it to last a lifetime. “So tell me. What do you do when you’re not coddling injured soldiers?”

  “Hair.”

  “Hair?”

  “Hair. As in hairdresser.”

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  Finding his reaction infectious, she asked humorously, “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just—I remember that’s all you did when you were young. You and those hair irons were closer than some siblings.”

  “Well, we still are. In fact, Dani and Papa built me a shop a few years back, and I have a clientele and everything.”

  Adam was just beginning to realize how much he enjoyed this grown-up version of Josephine Best. Beneath the ebony beauty lay the saucy, uninhibited Jojo he’d known when she was twelve. She’d been a pistol back then; now she was a polished one.

  Under his silent regard, Jo fought to keep her hands still. “You know,” she told him, “Dani would be very upset if he knew you were here sharpening your wiles on his baby sister.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  Jo met his eyes. Her heart began flipping and flopping. “Yes. And once you’ve gotten your wiles back up to snuff you’ll be off to conquer some other poor, unsuspecting beauty.”

  “I’d never conquer you. Your brother would roast me like a Christmas goose. Your mother, too.”

  Adam was mesmerized by the intricate way she’d braided, then coiled her gleaming black hair into the chignon pinned low on her neck. She smelled good, too. He detected just the faintest scent of—oranges? “Is it my imagination or do you really smell like oranges?”

  “It’s my hair oil.”

  He leaned close and placed his nose near her hair. “Ah, it is, isn’t it?”