"Sure. In the meantime, you can explain to Durwin's mother why she can't take him home."
Dr. Moore pointed to the window. Looking out, Holt saw a woman and a young man approaching the house at a purposeful gait.
"You're lucky she didn't bring her daughters," Dr. Moore said. "We would have had to lock the door and make a run for it."
"You're sure you won't leave him until he's better?" Mrs. Sealy asked Holt for at least the fourth time. "He is my son, but I wouldn't be telling the truth if I didn't say he doesn't always do what's best unless he's got somebody standing over him."
Felicity thought Durwin was a charming fool who never had a lick of sense and didn't seem to care that he stumbled from one life-threatening situation to another.
"Dr. Moore has invited me to stay until Durwin is out of the "woods," Holt said.
Mrs. Sealy cast a startled glance at Felicity's father.
"Dr. Price is much more up-to-date on wounds like Durwin's," Dr. Moore said. "He was a surgeon during the war."
He'd said that at least three times as well, but although Mrs. Sealy had accepted the news that she couldn't take Durwin home, she wasn't entirely comfortable with having a stranger taking care of him. And unless Felicity was mistaken, the woman had detected the accent Holt had tried so hard to disguise. Much to her surprise, she had an impulse to defend him. She didn't like foreigners, and anybody from Vermont was about as foreign as you could get, yet she had to admit Holt didn't seem foreign.
"I heard about them surgeons," Mrs. Sealy said. "Butchers is what some people call them."
"I'm sure some doctors amputated because it was the fastest and easiest way," Felicity said, "but Dr. Price isn't like that. If he had been, he wouldn't have stopped to help Durwin."
"I'm sure I don't mean anything personal," Mrs. Sealy said. "It's just a mother's concern, you understand."
"Of course," Holt said.
But Felicity thought she could detect a hint of strain, maybe anger. She guessed he'd run into this kind of prejudice a lot since he'd been in Texas. Feelings were just too strong after the war. And now with the Reconstruction government making things even worse, people weren't in any mood to consider a Yankee innocent until proven guilty. Seeing Mrs. Sealy's reaction made her feel guilty about her own prejudice. She ought to know better.
"There's no question of amputation with Durwin," Felicity said, "unless he gets in another accident. Dr. Price can watch him while he's here, but once he leaves, it'll be up to you and his brothers to make sure he doesn't do anything foolish."
"The only way to keep Durwin from doing something stupid is tie him to his bed," Dermot said. He'd accompanied his mother instead of Darcy.
"I won't have you talking about your brother like that," his mother said.
"No use pretending Durwin's got good sense," Dermot said. "He's been trying to kill himself since he learned to walk."
"Then it's up to you and Darcy to see he doesn't. Your pa and me can't know what he's doing all the time."
"You sure you can't find an excuse to fit him with one of those artificial legs?" Dermot said to Holt. "I seen a couple soldiers stumping along with them. Slowed them down real good. Maybe it'd work for Durwin."
"Your brother has had a very serious accident," Holt said. Felicity thought she saw amusement dancing in his eyes, but she didn't know him well enough to be sure. "I think his long period of recovery will give him time to reflect on his ways."
"You don't know Durwin," Dermot said, sounding disgusted. "The only way he's gonna reflect is if he sees himself in the mirror."
"Stop talking about your brother like that," Mrs. Sealy said again. "He's just high-spirited."
"And low-brained," Dermot muttered.
"I'll come back this evening to bring him supper," Mrs. Sealy said. "Durwin is particular about what he eats."
"Yeah, he eats anything he can reach," Dermot said.
"I'm talking about when he's sick," his mother said. "He likes my special bean and ham hock soup. I'll bring him a pot."
"That'll be fine," Holt said. "He appears to have a healthy body."
"See there?" Mrs. Sealy said to Dermot, giving him a thump on his shoulder to emphasize her point. "The doctor says he's mighty healthy. He'll be home and well before you know it."
"I hope you'll send him to Uncle Hobart this time."
"I don't want him working around wild longhorns. I wouldn't get a night's sleep for worrying about him."
"You ain't getting any sleep now."
She thumped her son again. "That's from worrying about you and Darcy. It's time you both settled down. Your pa and I have been wanting a couple of grandbabies." She cast an arch look in Felicity's direction.
"If you want grandbabies, you ought to find somebody to marry Durwin," Dermot said. "Then we can stop worrying about him and let his wife take over."
"I think we ought to leave Durwin to rest," Holt said.
"I want to talk to this new doctor," Mrs. Sealy said. "Alone, if you please."
Felicity had to stifle an impulse to object. She knew Mrs. Sealy was aware of her father's drinking. The last time she'd needed a doctor, she'd gone to someone else. Felicity was afraid of what Mrs. Sealy might tell Holt. She searched her mind for a way to prevent the tete-a-tete.
"We'll all be looking after Durwin at one time or another," Felicity said. "If you have any special instructions, we all need to know."
Mrs. Sealy looked slightly uneasy. "I don't have any special instructions, but you can't expect me to leave my son in the hands of a doctor I know nothing about."
"You can ask me anything you want to know in front of Dr. Moore and his daughter," Holt said.
"I insist upon speaking to you alone," Mrs. Sealy said. "I really don't understand why you don't want me to."
"Mother, nobody said that," Dermot said.
"You stay out of this," her mother snapped. "The way you talk about your brother, I might think you didn't want him to get well."
"I'll be happy to speak with you privately," Holt said. "We can go into the parlor."
When they entered the parlor, Mrs. Sealy didn't sit down. "Do you drink?" she asked Holt the moment the door closed behind him.
"No," he replied. That was the last thing he'd expected her to ask.
"No need to lie," Mrs. Sealy said severely. "I just want to know how much."
"I don't drink at all."
She eyed him suspiciously. "You're not some kind of religious fanatic, are you?"
Holt relaxed and smiled. "No. I just don't drink."
Mrs. Sealy didn't look as if she believed him entirely. "I had to know. Dr. Moore is unsteady these days. Darcy and Dermot tell me I'm being foolish, but I don't like leaving Durwin here. I especially don't like leaving him with a Yankee. It seems like treason."
Holt would have thought he'd be angry at her remark, but instead he found it amusing.
"Felicity is a wonderful girl," Mrs. Sealy said, "but she can't watch her father all the time." She fixed him with a hard eye. "You sure you won't leave Durwin?"
"Yes."
She looked relieved. "I feel sorry for Felicity, and I feel like a traitor, but a mother has to look out for her children."
"You seem very adept at dealing with mothers of patients despite your accent," Dr. Moore said to Holt after Mrs. Sealy left, smiling.
"I learned to do that as a child."
Felicity was starting to be very curious about Holt Price. There was a great deal more to him than she expected.
"Well, if you decide to stay in medicine, that ability will be invaluable," her father said. "Half of getting a patient well is convincing the nurse she has to follow your orders exactly."
"That'll take some getting used to," Holt said. "I'm used to soldiers doing it."
Felicity couldn't imagine men taking care of patients. Most of them didn't know how to feed themselves. And as soon as they had the slightest thing wrong with them, they thought they were dying.
"W
omen do all the nursing," Felicity said.
"You shouldn't have any trouble if you ever get sick," her father said to Holt, and winked. "A handsome young man like you has only to smile and they'll fall over themselves trying to please you."
Felicity hated it when her father acted as if a woman would make a fool of herself just because a man was pleasing to look at. Holt certainly qualified as good to look at, but she wasn't about to let him make her act like a fool. Not that he was trying. He was just about as cool to her as she intended to be to him. He thought she was a person with no ethics. She thought he was a snob and a self-righteous moralist. She was sure he'd stumbled sometime in his life.
In the meantime, though, she didn't like the fact that her body seemed to be developing a life of its own when it came to Holt. She felt slightly tense, vaguely uneasy, a trace of panic. Nothing pronounced, just the feeling of being slightly unwell. She didn't like that either. She'd never had this kind of reaction to a man, and she didn't want it now. What did it mean that she felt slightly queer all over? She knew it had something to do with Holt.
"I'm certain Dr. Price believes the strict practice of medicine is all a conscientious doctor need rely on," Felicity said.
"If he does, he's not the man I take him for," her father said with a rude snort. "Everybody knows women pay more attention to a good-looking man, and Holt here certainly fits the bill."
"It's equally true that men pay more attention to attractive women," Holt said. "I'm afraid both sexes are equally guilty."
Okay, so maybe he wasn't as cocksure as she'd thought. Still, honesty made her admit he had reasons for his confidence. She was attracted to him and she didn't even like him.
"It's a characteristic of people at all ages to like pretty things," she said. "Now let's stop talking foolishness and set up a schedule for the two days Dr. Price will be here."
"Don't go limiting him to two days," her father said. "He might want to stay longer."
"We can change the schedule any time it's necessary."
The discussion was brief. Both men accepted her suggestions without dissent.
"You don't really have to take a turn sitting with Durwin," Holt said to Felicity. "That's the way I'm supposed to earn my keep."
"My father's hoping to have time to talk to you," she said. "If you're going to learn your way around Galveston, you couldn't find a better guide. He knows the location of every hotel and restaurant in town."
She knew what Holt would be thinking when she said that, but she said it as a challenge and dared him to make anything of it.
"Except for waiting for Pilar to have her baby, I haven't had to sit with anybody since the war. That's my friend's wife," Holt said in response to Dr. Moore's blank look. "A perfectly ordinary childbirth, except that her grandmother kept screaming that men shouldn't have anything to do with birthing babies, that it was women's work."
"Midwives deliver most of the babies in Galveston," Felicity said. "Some don't even want my father to help."
"Felicity delivers more babies than I do," Dr. Moore said.
"There's no end to your talents, is there?"
Holt's response reminded her of his earlier reaction to hearing she'd helped her father.
"I haven't had the opportunity to explore them all yet," she shot back. "But I expect I can do anything anybody else can do."
He appeared to take that as a direct challenge. Good. That was how she'd meant it.
"It'll soon be time for Papa to start seeing patients," Felicity said. "We'll leave you with Durwin. Let us know if we can be of any help."
She exited the room before he could make a comeback.
"Wonder what Mrs. Sealy wanted to talk to him about," her father said.
"Probably inquiring about his ancestors," Felicity said. "You know Mrs. Sealy. If Holt can't trace his family back at least two hundred years, she probably thinks he isn't good enough to take care of Durwin. She ignores the fact that two hundred and fifty years of Sealys have culminated in three sons with barely enough intelligence for one."
But after her father entered his office, Felicity's cheerful demeanor fell away. She was sure that Mrs. Sealy had talked to Holt about her father's drinking. He had been smiling when he returned, but she could see the tightness around his eyes.
She sank down at her desk. She was so very tired of the battle to keep up the pretense, to act as though she didn't see the pitying looks, didn't know what people were saying about her father behind his back. She was tired of pretending that nothing was wrong, that his practice was thriving and she didn't have to scrimp and cut corners and sell extra produce.
She couldn't pretend with Holt. He wouldn't let her. She had a momentary desire to throw aside all pretense and ask for his help. He was strong enough to face anything. He would know what to do. He would...
She was a fool. That's what she got for thinking he looked like her dream man. Holt was not interested in her or her father. He was only here as long as it took him to find Vivian or satisfy himself she wasn't in Galveston.
Why did Mrs. Sealy have to be so defensive of Durwin? she wondered. She hovered over him as if he were still a small child.
Felicity found herself feeling jealous. She'd never had a mother to hover over her, to protect her, to fight battles for her. From the time she was small, her mother had spent most of the day in bed. Felicity had had to take care of her mother because her father couldn't do anything but cry. After he left for Scotland to study medicine, Felicity had had to shoulder the running of the household. Later, when her mother grew too ill to leave the bedroom at all, Felicity had to take over the management of the plantation.
She'd never had the chance to be a child. She'd never known what it was like to be carefree, to have time to play with dolls, to wade in the creek after a summer rain, to dress up in her mother's hat and shoes and play make-believe. She'd never had the time to whisper secrets and giggle with other little girls. She'd never even had time to have a crush on a boy. Now she was so tired, she wondered how long she could keep going.
Despite herself, her thoughts turned back to Holt. A man with courage, integrity, and the strength to stand behind what he believed. She didn't want to throw all her worries in his lap. She just wanted to feel that she could talk to somebody, that somebody cared about her.
Felicity told herself to stop thinking about Holt. He was all the things she'd said he was, but he was absolutely the wrong man for her. However, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd never find one who was more right.
"The kind of people you're talking about are building houses along Broadway," Dr. Moore said in response to Holt's description of Vivian. "You ought to see some of them. Mansions, that's what they are."
"I thought everybody's fortunes had been wiped out by the war," Holt said.
They had finished office hours and had eaten dinner. Mrs. Sealy had brought her bean and ham hock soup for Durwin. Holt had to admit he'd acted the coward and fled with Dr. Moore, leaving Felicity to deal with Mrs. Sealy.
Felicity had been reluctant to let them go out together. Holt was certain she was worried that he'd get the old man drunk and charge him with being incompetent. Holt didn't drink and had an aversion to drink in general, but he wasn't a fool. Nearly everybody drank. The trick was to judge the appropriate amount in accordance with one's responsibilities. He'd be interested to see how Dr. Moore acted when he wasn't under the eagle eye of his daughter.
"It's a little nippy out tonight," Holt said. The breeze from the Gulf of Mexico was strong and smelled of salt. He'd never lived close enough to the coast to smell the ocean.
"Be glad it's not coming from the land side," Dr. Moore said. "It would be hot, smell of rank vegetation from the coastal marshes, and carry mosquitoes and flies."
"You're not trying to run me off, are you?"
"No. We get a gulf breeze most of the time. There's a whole bunch of places down here where society fellows come to eat, drink, and chase women," he said, referring to
the street they were approaching. "I don't come here myself. Can't afford it, for one thing."
"Don't worry. I'm paying tonight."
"It's not that. I don't feel comfortable. That's odd, since I was born a planter's son and grew up wealthy. But these folks aren't like planters."
"They're businessmen," Holt said. "I probably have more in common with them than you do. Nearly all of my family are in some kind of business. Most of them aren't very good at it, but it's hard to be a successful businessman in Vermont. Not many people need anything they can't make for themselves."
"You can sell just about anything here," Dr. Moore said. "With the army and the carpetbaggers flooding in, there's plenty of money."
They were walking through what was coming to be known as the business district. Lights shone from inside hotels, restaurants, saloons, taverns, business offices. It seemed the town didn't close down. The breeze sent a few scattered clouds scurrying across the moonlit sky. It felt good to be outside, almost like Vermont in the summer.
"Where do you intend to start looking for this woman you're hunting?"
"Where the rich men gather. Vivian is a beautiful woman. Men congregate around her."
"Then we ought to start at the Galveston Hotel. Everybody of importance goes there sooner or later."
It looked like the kind of place Vivian would like. Brand spanking new, it stood three stories of red brick. The woodwork gleamed with white paint. Once inside, Holt knew he'd stepped into a place of luxury. The spacious entrance was arranged with groupings of comfortable chairs along wainscoted walls hung with paintings in heavy gold flames. The sound of their heels on the black-and-white marble floor echoed in the large space. The main lobby was even more impressive. White columns circled the room. Decorated with gold garlands and topped by gold Corinthian capitals, they rose from the first floor past balconies on the second and third floors to a ceiling at least thirty feet above. Small trees in large pots were positioned around the room. Groups of men gathered on long sofas, sat in deep chairs, reading or talking.
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