She didn't reply, just pushed him out of the room with orders to go to bed. But once he'd undressed and gotten under the covers, he found his mind was filled with too many thoughts to allow him to go to sleep. He couldn't forget Laveau just because he was protected by the Union Army as well as the Reconstruction government. It was impossible to see the man, even think about him, without thinking of the twenty-four comrades who'd died because of his treachery. He would write Cade tomorrow. Laveau had already escaped them twice. Maybe the third time would be the charm.
He didn't plan to let Cade or Owen endanger themselves now that they were married. Cade had a son, and Owen's wife was expecting their first child. It would be up to the rest of them to bring Laveau to justice.
Holt had no doubt that Laveau was involved in something illegal. Owen had broken up a cattle-rustling operation just last year. He remembered Lillie Hart saying Laveau seemed to know things he shouldn't and took advantage of them. That sounded like blackmail, something Laveau had already tried with Owen's wife. Holt had heard another guest mention some recent thefts of jewelry and paintings. Laveau had stolen cattle--why not jewelry and paintings? If Holt could prove Laveau was a criminal, maybe the Yankees would take care of him for them. But it wouldn't be easy to find out what Laveau was doing or to prove it. He was a very clever man. But if he was as attracted to Vivian as it appeared, maybe she could help Holt come up with the information he needed.
Holt had always known that Vivian liked attention. He excused it because she had no family, but that could not excuse her friendship with Laveau, especially not after he'd told her what Laveau had done.
What bothered him most was her statement that everybody had done terrible things during the war, that the war was over and it was time to forget. Maybe he could have forgotten if Laveau had merely changed sides. It was the death of men who would have risked their lives to protect Laveau that Holt could never forgive. He couldn't understand why Vivian couldn't see that.
Felicity had seen it immediately. He wondered what made people turn out differently. Felicity hadn't changed when her father lost his money. She was pretty enough to draw attention from many men, yet she hadn't taken advantage of her beauty to look for a rich husband. She'd devoted all her time to protecting her father even though it meant she was giving up her own chances for happiness.
Laveau, born into money and an aristocratic family, had become a traitor and a thief rather than work to regain what his family had lost. Vivian had pursued gaiety and extravagant praise rather than settle down to make the most of her son's inheritance. Knowing he could make no difference in his father's life, Holt had turned his back on his family rather than sacrifice his own future. Yet Felicity had sacrificed her future to protect her father.
Did he feel Felicity was throwing her life away?
Yes.
Did he feel guilty for leaving even though he knew there was noticing he could have done to help his father?
Yes.
He wondered what Felicity really thought of him. Her good opinion was becoming more and more important every day. He'd even begun to think he might like a longer partnership with Dr. Moore. The more he learned, the more his interest in medicine revived.
Holt tossed restlessly. He needed sleep, not the nagging feeling that he was wrong about nearly everything. But Vivian's defense of Laveau had shaken him badly. He could no longer avoid the conclusion that his feelings for Vivian weren't the same as before the war. His need to find her had been driven in part by his uncle's expectation that Holt would take care of her. But Holt expected more of a mature woman--quality of character, courage in the face of adversity, standards of conduct by which she measured others as well as herself. Though he tried not to do it, he found himself constantly comparing Felicity and Vivian.
And Felicity always came out on top.
Was he beginning to fall in love with Felicity?
Exhaustion must be the reason he was having such crazy thoughts. He couldn't be falling in love with Felicity. Even though he felt his love for Vivian draining way, he was still too emotionally involved with her, felt too responsible for her, to be able to love another woman. But could that happen after he'd sorted out his relationship with Vivian? Did he want it to happen?
Maybe he ought to go back to Cade's ranch until he could figure out what he really wanted. But he wouldn't. He would stay here as long as it took for Felicity's father to conquer his addiction to alcohol. He'd failed his own father. He wouldn't fail Felicity's.
"Let me help you," Felicity said to her father.
"No." His refusal was emphatic and fretful. "If I can't get it to my mouth without spilling it, I won't have any."
"Holt said shaking hands was one of the classic signs of withdrawal." Her father's attempts to eat breakfast had been a disaster. His entire body shook uncontrollably. He'd already spilled two cups of coffee. "At least you got a good night's sleep."
"Only because of the laudanum. Admit it, Felicity, I'm a hopeless wreck. I might as well take a drink and forget the whole thing."
"No!"
"It would only take a little bit to calm my nerves."
"You know you can't drink anything at all."
"I promise I won't take more than one swallow."
"You've tried that before and failed."
"I won't fail this time."
He got up from his chair, but Felicity blocked his path. "There's no whiskey in the house."
"I always keep some hidden in case of emergencies."
"I know your hiding places. I've emptied the bottles."
He dropped back into his seat. "I can't do this," he said.
"You have to for your own self-respect," Felicity said. "You know you don't like it when you drink. Besides, Holt said he'd walk out the door if you ever took another drink."
"Fine. Let him take over my practice. He's a much better doctor than I am."
"Thanks for the compliment," Holt said as he entered the kitchen, "but I'm only good at cutting people open. I'm depending on you to teach me how to make them well without a knife. This is a much too serious conversation to have on an empty stomach. Do you think I could get something to eat?"
Felicity tried to calm her feeling of panic. How much had Holt heard? Did he know her father was considering giving up? "I wasn't going to call you for another fifteen minutes."
"Couldn't sleep."
She wondered if he'd had more bad dreams. Or if thinking of Vivian had kept him awake. "Sit down. I'll have your breakfast ready in a minute."
"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked her father.
"Your father was an alcoholic, so you probably know exactly how I feel."
"My father liked being drunk. You've been trying to numb the pain of some terrible memories."
"It's still a coward's way out."
"I see your coffee cup is empty. I'll get you some more. Wouldn't want Felicity to take her mind off fixing my breakfast."
"Felicity's a good daughter."
"You feel that way because she likes you. You should hear some of the things she says about me."
"She likes you, too."
"That's what she wants you to believe, but she really just wants two doctors working to support her. That way she'll have twice as much money to spend on fancy gowns." Holt bent closer to her father. "She pretends she doesn't like parties, but you ought to see her when she gets there. I practically have to drag her home."
Felicity was feeling more and more as if she wanted to put metal filings into Holt's biscuits and gravy. She couldn't imagine what possessed him to tell her father such ridiculous tales. When he reached the part about her dancing with every man in the room, she couldn't take any more. But before she could voice a protest, she realized his ridiculous tales had kept her father so amused, he had allowed Holt to hold the coffee cup for him while he drank.
Her irritation disappeared, replaced by a feeling of embarrassment that her defensiveness caused her constantly to misjudge him. She w
as suddenly grateful that he understood her father so well that he could find a way to help him without causing embarrassment. She felt herself being flooded by feelings much warmer than embarrassment or gratitude. She warned herself not to lose her head. Holt might be exactly the kind of man she wanted for a husband, but he was already taken.
"I know Felicity is your daughter, so I hate to criticize her to you," Holt was saying, "but you shouldn't have let her serve you a cold breakfast."
She turned to see Holt looking at the plate of food before her father. He had refused to touch any of it.
"It wasn't cold," her father said. "I just wasn't hungry."
"It's just what a loving father would say," Holt said, "but my grandmother would rise out of her grave to haunt me if she knew I let anybody eat a cold breakfast. You can have some of mine. But check for pepper first. Felicity told me last night she was going to spice things up for me if I didn't pack my bags and head back to those stubborn longhorns I liked so much."
"That's the only animal I know that's as hard-headed as you," Felicity said.
"They're tough because they have to live on a diet of thorny plants," Holt shot back. "A lot like living with you."
"So far I haven't been able to find a barb sharp enough to penetrate your thick hide."
"Why do you think I spent two years living with longhorns? I was just getting ready for you."
While they exchanged retorts, Holt gave her father half of everything on his plate and warned him to eat it quickly before Felicity took it back and made them both go hungry. By gentle badgering, Holt got him to eat most of his food and drink another cup of coffee. By the time they had finished breakfast, the desperate look that had always been a harbinger of a bout of drinking had disappeared from her father's face.
With Holt's help, her father had gotten past his first real crisis of willpower.
"It's time we got ready for our first patient," Holt said. "We have to get spruced up. Must make a good impression. If we look successful, they'll be sure we're giving them the best possible advice."
Her father hadn't finished dressing or shaved. The two men left the kitchen together, Holt in the midst of an earnest monologue about what kind of clothes created the best impression with patients--black because the color created a sober and responsible appearance, or fancy dress because it indicated the patronage of wealthy patients who could afford to pay for the very best.
If it hadn't been for the dirty plates, Felicity might have thought she'd imagined the entire last hour. She never would have dreamed Holt could be so sweet, kind, thoughtful, and masterful in getting her father's mind off whiskey, getting him to eat food he didn't want, making him feel like an equal partner in dealing with the patients. She could never have managed it by herself.
She experienced another surge of that much-too-warm feeling for Holt, but this time it didn't catch her by surprise. She refused to let it give rise to thoughts--or hopes--she knew to be impossible. She would be grateful for what he had done for her father, but that would be the extent of it. Anything else would be dangerous.
"I didn't expect to be seen by two doctors," the elderly female patient said. "It was quite confusing." Felicity was seated at her desk in the wide central hall where she greeted patients and they waited for their appointments.
"It's not at all unusual," Felicity replied, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "That way both doctors will be familiar with your history, so either one will be able to treat you the next time you come in."
"I hope I won't have to come again," the woman said.
"That's always our hope, too," Felicity replied, "but it's best to come in regularly so we can head off problems before they happen."
Her father had always expected people to wait until they had a problem, but Holt said it was advisable for all patients, especially the elderly, to come in for regular checkups. She didn't know if any of her father's patients would cotton to that newfangled idea, but it seemed like a reasonable precaution. She had to admit that a lot of Holt's ideas seemed reasonable once you got past their unfamiliarity.
"Dr. Price is a very young man," the old lady said.
"I believe he's in his early thirties," Felicity said.
"And very attractive."
"Most of our patients think so."
"It makes a woman uncomfortable to have such an attractive young man poking around."
Felicity had heard that before, but as yet no one had refused to see Holt a second time. "We must have young doctors, or there won't be any doctors in a few years."
"I suppose so, but I don't think your father needs this Dr. Price."
"Why do you say that?"
"Every time he told me something, he turned to your father and asked if he was right."
"Was he?"
"Yes, but if he had to ask, your father doesn't need that young man's help, even if he is so attractive you'll probably have every young female in Galveston coming here within the month."
"I believe it's a common practice for young doctors to serve a period of apprenticeship with an established physician," Felicity said.
"I don't intend to pay double just because there are two doctors in the room," the woman said.
"The charge remains the same."
The woman paid in cash, something Felicity was seeing more frequently since Holt had begun working with her father.
"I suppose I should come again in six months," the woman said. "I am getting up in years."
Felicity thought seventy-two could definitely be considered up in years.
"Will the young doctor still be here?" the woman asked.
"I don't know," Felicity said, but she found herself feeling rather uneasy at the thought that Holt might not be there.
"I wouldn't think he could learn enough in six months to go out on his own, do you?"
"I really can't say," Felicity replied, "but he seems to be a very bright young man."
"Yes, but he'd want to make sure he had as much experience as possible before setting up his own practice, wouldn't he? There must be a great number of things they don't teach doctors in schools." She leaned forward as though sharing a confidence. "I'm told that some people who set themselves up as doctors don't even go to school."
"I can assure you Dr. Price has had the finest education available."
"I'm sure he has, but the experience of a man like your father would be invaluable to a doctor just starting out."
"I'm sure Dr. Price would agree with you."
Felicity nearly lost the struggle to keep from smiling until the woman left. She wasn't the first woman to pretend indignation when confronted by a handsome young doctor, then want assurance that he would be here when she returned. Felicity supposed she should be annoyed that women could behave so foolishly over a handsome man, but men behaved just as foolishly over a beautiful woman. It seemed a failing shared by both sexes.
And she was honest enough to admit she suffered from the same tendency. Despite her best efforts, she could not banish her feelings for Holt. It didn't help that he had been a perfect angel during the last week.
She laughed at the image in her mind of Holt as an angel. It amused her even more to think of Holt's reaction if he knew what she was imagining. He would look perfectly ludicrous wearing long, flowing white robes, standing under a halo, holding a harp, and singing some heavenly song. The more she thought about the picture, the funnier it became until she started laughing helplessly.
"Anything wrong?" Holt asked, sticking his head out the door.
"No," she said. "That's what's so funny."
"It was very nice of you to invite me to dinner," Mrs. Bennett said to Felicity. "It's a treat not to have to cook for myself."
"It was the least I could do after you helped so much with Papa."
They were in the kitchen washing the cups and saucers from their after-dinner coffee. Despite her worry about her father, the evening had been fun.
"Sitting with your father was a treat rather
than a chore," Mrs. Bennett said. "It can get awfully lonely staying at home alone night after night. I enjoy listening to him, especially when he talks about the time he spent in Scotland."
"Papa enjoyed going to school. Between classes and studying, he didn't have much time to drink."
"I know this sounds hard-hearted to you, but it's time your father stopped torturing himself about his past. What's done is done and can't be changed. A body has to go on."
Felicity wanted to say it wasn't as easy as all that, but she bit back the words. "That's what he's trying to do now."
"You're a smart young woman," Mrs. Bennett said, putting away the last cup and looking around the kitchen for any stray task left undone. "You don't need me telling you what you already know. Now I'd better be getting on home, or you'll start thinking of charging me rent."
"You could move in if it would help keep Papa's mind off whiskey."
"Then I could rent my whole house and become a rich widow," she said with a bark of laughter. "Enough foolishness." She leaned over and kissed Felicity's cheek. "It's always darkest before the dawn. I know everybody says that, but you're stronger afterwards."
Felicity wasn't sure she believed that. Her father had struggled for years only to grow weaker. Holt was so taken up with Vivian, he hadn't noticed that Felicity had changed her mind about him. Not that it would make any difference. He wasn't interested in an average-looking old maid who had made it plain from the first that she wanted him out of her life as soon as possible.
"Are you all right?" Mrs. Bennett asked.
Felicity jerked her thoughts back to the present. "Why do you ask?"
"You didn't answer when I spoke--"
"I'm sorry. Sometimes my thoughts take over, and I forget where I am."
"Worrying never makes things better." Mrs. Bennett patted Felicity's hand like she had her father's. "Just do what you can and turn your mind to other things. I can tell you don't believe you can do that--or even that you should--but you'll change your mind one of these days. Don't waste your life worrying or you'll reach my age and realize you've missed everything that made the worrying worthwhile. Now no more lectures. What time do you and Holt plan to leave tomorrow?"
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