Mail Order Promises

by Julianna Blake

  But he couldn’t leave.

  He stood, his back to his wife, and pounded the door frame with his fists. She was the one cornered by Warren. Of course she’s upset! I was gone only one minute. There was nothing she could have done to encourage his behavior in that time…and since when did Warren need encouragement in his nasty behavior? And here I am, acting the bully…

  Shoulders slumped, Jake turned back. He’d botched things for sure. He had to set them right.

  “Lilly.” He sat on the bed again, slowly, afraid to upset her even more. Her temperament seemed extremely fragile. Warren’s behavior must have shaken her badly. “I’m sorry that I let that man get to me, and let myself take out my anger on you. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong. He was obviously trying to get my goat, and he succeeded. I feel foolish for letting him do that—for letting him get between us.”

  Her sobs had slowed to soft crying, but she still didn’t move.

  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Please, don’t let that rotten man and my foolish behavior ruin our day together. I’m home so little, and all I want is to be with you. Please forgive me.”

  He laid a hand tenderly on her shoulder, and this time she didn’t shake him off. The crying had given way to sniffles, and Jake pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dangled it over her shoulder. Lilly took it, dabbed at her tears, and blew her nose.

  Sitting up, she turned toward him, but didn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. I…I guess I was just…anxious. After what happened, and all.”

  Jake was filled with a sudden feeling that there was more to it than Lilly was letting on. But before he could ask, she sprang up from the bed.

  “Let’s go on that picnic,” she said brightly, wiping away the last of her tears and smoothing down her wrinkled dress. “You’re right. We can’t let our day together be ruined.”

  ***

  It was midday when they finally reached a nice picnic spot in one of the newer parks in town. Jake wanted to take a walk together first, so they could hold hands and talk, and work up an appetite. Lilly already had an appetite—she’d been ravenous since they’d left the church—but she wanted to make up for her shocking behavior outside the chapel, so she obliged him.

  When they finally settled down on the blanket, Lilly began pulling out the food she had carefully packed into the basket—fried chicken, dilled potatoes, biscuits, large pickles from the barrel at the mercantile, molasses cookies, and elderberry sun tea.

  “I’m glad we came.” Lilly smiled as she handed her husband a full plate. “I’m enjoying myself. We should do this often.”

  “Until the seasons change.” Jake winked at her. “It gets mighty cold when that bitter wind sweeps across the valley.”

  “How cold does it get?” Lilly asked as she started to dish her own food out.

  “Mmf,” he swallowed his bite of chicken. “Well, hard to say. A bad winter, you can see temperatures well below zero. I’ve seen twenty below—but it feels a heck of a lot colder than that, if the wind is blowing.”

  The serving spoon in her hand clattered onto the plate. “How much colder?” Boston temperatures almost never got so low.

  “Don’t you worry about that.” He took her hand and rubbed it in a soothing circular motion. “Winter is months away, and it’s not like that the whole time. It’s only a few weeks of the worst weather, usually. And you and I will be cuddled up under the quilts in our bed, keeping warm.”

  Lilly blushed. “Stop.”

  “I can’t help it. You drive me mad.” He kissed her hand, then kissed a trail up her arm.

  It made her feel a bit giddy…almost…light-headed. “Don’t. Someone might see,” she giggled.

  “I told you, I can’t. I’m under your power.” He grinned, and kissed her shoulder.

  “No, Jake…Jake, wait…” Her head began to swim, but he just laughed. She tried to tell him how very ill she was feeling, but no words came out. She reached out for his arm to steady herself, but she missed, sprawling upon the blanket.

  “Lilly?” He loomed over her, no more than a dark figure backlit by the sun…

  …and she was back in the church basement again, being held to the damp earth, unable to move.

  Her stomach churned, and her vision swam. “No. No! Don’t touch me! Don’t!”

  She fought against the arms that tried to hold her.

  Then the world went dark.

  Chapter 13

  “Doc! Doc!” Jake hollered toward the doctor’s office. It’s Sunday! I forgot it’s Sunday…please don’t let Doc have gone off to his cabin. “Dr. Archer!” he yelled again.

  He climbed into the back of his wagon and lifted his wife into a sitting position. She moaned, as she had the whole way back into town, saying things that didn’t make sense. She clutched her stomach as she tried to push him away.

  “Jake, what happened?” A familiar voice came from behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Leonard Curtis, a deacon at the church, rushing up, with his wife Viola close behind.

  “She collapsed…or something. I think she’s sick. She might be delirious. I’m not sure she recognizes me.”

  “Oh dear!” Mrs. Curtis cried. “The poor thing.”

  “Let me help.” Leonard held out his arms.

  Jake dragged Lilly to the back of the wagon, laying her in Leonard’s arms in such a way that he could hook his arms under her shoulders. Then he hopped out and lifted her lower body down, and together the men carried her to the door of the doctor’s office.

  He was prepared to kick it down, if necessary, just so he could have a decent place to lay Lilly down, but a young man opened it. “What happened?” He stepped aside to let the two men carry her in.

  “We need the doc,” Jake huffed as they carried Lilly through the open door to the examination room. Mrs. Curtis waited in the doorway.

  “I am the doctor.” He followed them into the examination room.

  Jake looked the man—or the boy, rather—up and down. “I don’t think so. I want the real doctor. Dr. Archer.”

  “I am a real doctor.” The young man folded his arms in consternation. “Dr. Gabriel Foyle. I’ve been working with Dr. Archer for over a month now.”

  Jake seemed to remember Doc mentioning that he’d hired a new doctor to help out at the office, with the hope of being able to retire a few years down the line. But—he realized with a momentary flash of guilt—he hadn’t been over to visit his friend since before Lilly had arrived.

  “Look,” Jake pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, “I’m not leaving my wife’s fate in the hands of a doctor with one month’s experience. Get Archer. Now.”

  “Sir.” Dr. Foyle lifted his chin, his tall, thin body in a ramrod-straight posture. “I studied at Harvard Medical School, a three year course of study, and I graduated with the highest marks. If that’s not good enough for you, may I suggest you forego my services and take your wife elsewhere? You’re lucky you caught me at all today—the office is closed, and I only came here to pick up a medical text I wanted to read. Dr. Archer is up making rounds in the mining camps this weekend, and I’m all you’ve got. Unless you’d like to take her to one of the hospitals. You could take your chances that St. John’s Hospital isn’t full already, or try St. Peter’s. But I’m the best physician this town has, and you might live to regret wasting the time.”

  For a moment there wasn’t a sound in the room.

  “Fine.” Jake nodded, hoping he wouldn’t live to regret giving in. He didn’t trust the young braggart, but he trusted the hospitals even less.

  The young doctor rolled up his sleeves. “Tell me what happened.”

  “We were having a picnic. She seemed fine. Then she…she…I didn’t realize it at first…but she was feeling sick. Then she reached out for me and collapsed. She was awake—I think she was—but she didn’t seem to recognize me, or what was happening to he
r. She just kept pushing me away, telling me not to touch her.”

  “She’s delirious, then?” The doctor lifted each of Lilly’s eyelids, peering into them.

  Lilly tried to bat his hands away, but her attempts were ineffectual. Then she turned on her side and wretched, over and over, but nothing came out but clear liquid.

  “When was the last time she ate?”

  “At the picnic. We had chicken, and—”

  “Sir, this woman hasn’t had anything to eat today. Her stomach is completely empty—she’s vomiting small amounts of water, that’s all.”

  “No, she—wait. She didn’t eat. She was just dishing herself up some food when it happened.”

  “When was the last meal she had? That you know for sure she actually ate?”

  “I…uh…we were running late this morning, so we skipped breakfast so we could get to church on time. Lilly had already made the picnic food last night, and put it in the ice box. Last night we had—uh—corn cakes and beans and…I forget what else.” Jake wiped his hand over his mouth. “Why? Do you think it was something she ate? She made most of the picnic food last night—she could have tasted it while she cooked.”

  “We’ll find out, if you let me examine her.”

  Lilly moaned again. Wretched again.

  Jake’s knees went weak. He felt helpless.

  “Alright, everyone out,” ordered Dr. Foyle.

  “No. Absolutely not.” Jake crossed his arms, resolute.

  “Do you want me to treat her or not? I need to remove her clothing—her stays—and examine her.” He didn’t wait to be obeyed, but began unbuttoning Lilly’s shirtwaist.

  Leonard Curtis’ face drained of color and backed out of the room. When Jake didn’t follow, Mrs. Curtis stepped in and tugged on his arm.

  “Come Mr. Morgan. Your place is out in the waiting room with us. Let the doctor take good care of her.”

  Jake walked out of the room, past Leonard Curtis and strode out the front door. He needed air. He could barely breathe, thinking he might lose the wife he’d already begun to love.

  ***

  “Ma’am? Ma’am? You need to stop struggling.” A voice surged up from the distant babble. Hands were on her shoulders, holding her down.

  “No…stop.”

  Not holding her…shaking her. She opened her eyes, but everything was spinning. Where am I?

  She blinked, and the spinning slowed a little. A man’s face loomed before her. She wanted to scream, but as things came into focus, she saw that she wasn’t in the dark basement anymore. She was in a bright room. And the man was someone she didn’t know.

  “Jake? Where’s Jake? Where am I?” she murmured. Her tongue felt like cotton, and tasted bitter.

  “You’re in a doctor’s office. I’m Dr. Foyle. You fainted. Do you know your name?”

  “Lilly. Lilly Watkins.” That didn’t seem right. “No…no, Morgan. Lilly Morgan.”

  “And Mr. Morgan is your husband? The man who brought you in?”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s outside. Don’t worry, he’ll be in as soon as we’re done.”

  He was doing something to her, and she wasn’t sure what. Then she realized—he was undressing her.

  “No!” She sat up, pushed him away and clutching the plackets of her shirtwaist together.

  “I told you, Mrs. Morgan, I’m a doctor. You need to be examined.”

  The world began to tilt again, and the young man caught her, urging her to lay back.

  “I don’t want to be examined.”

  “We need to find out what is wrong with you, or else this could keep happening. Your husband is very worried.”

  “He is?” She looked up at the young doctor. His high cheekbones and prominent chin bespoke a somewhat aristocratic air. Dark hair was swept back from his forehead with just enough oil to keep it tamed, and his moustache was thin and neatly trimmed. She squirmed under the penetrating gaze of his dark eyes. “Very well. Let’s get it over with.”

  The brief examination was humiliating. His movements were never inappropriate, though she thought they were rougher than they needed to be. She was glad her husband had waited outside, but she also felt alone and abandoned, in some small way.

  “Get dressed.” He turned away, crossing the small room.

  “We’re done?”

  “Almost. Just a few questions for you. But first—” he reached over to a basket on the corner of a small writing desk and plucked an apple from it, bringing it to her. “Eat this while you get dressed, and I ask you some questions. Leave off your stays, but put the rest on.”

  “But I can’t—”

  “Doctor’s orders, Mrs. Morgan.”

  Lilly dressed quickly, taking small bites of the apple as she did so. She still felt rather ill, but she didn’t think the man would brook any more complaints from her. She was very aware of him sitting at the small writing desk, making some kind of notes on a piece of paper. She wished he would do that elsewhere, and let her dress in private.

  When she was done, he turned to her, and the questions began. They were almost as bad as his prodding—questions about when she’d last eaten, what she’d consumed, when her symptoms began…they got more personal as he went, until she was blushing more from the questions than she had from his probing.

  At last Dr. Foyle laid down his fountain pen and sighed. “Mrs. Morgan, I’m surprised you haven’t figured this out for yourself. You’re with child. Congratulations.” His tone was flat.

  “I am? But how can you tell? I thought these things took time before the signs appeared—”

  He sighed, as an adult would when dealing with a very young, persistent child. “Mrs. Morgan, you do show all the signs. You said you’ve felt queasy on and off for the last month—”

  “Yes, but I was on that long journey, with the rocking of the train, and then there was the stress of getting married—”

  “—and today you were too rushed to eat, so you fainted because you let yourself go more than half the day with no food, while wearing a tightly-laced corset. Not to mention, you’re beginning to show.” He pointed at her belly.

  “I…” she looked down, running a hand over it. “No. I mean…I know my corset has felt a little tight lately, but…” she looked up at him in shock. “At only two weeks along? My goodness, how big will I be when I’m at nine months’ confinement?”

  The man laughed—clearly at her expense. “My dear woman, you’re not two weeks along—you’re three months along! Really, I wish mothers would teach their daughters a little more about human anatomy before sending them down the aisle. It would save doctors a lot of time and trouble.”

  Lilly could feel the color drain from her face. “That’s…not possible. I’ve only been married two weeks.”

  “Really?” Dr. Foyle’s raised eyebrow appeared not only rude, but unprofessional, in Lilly’s eyes. “Well, how do you suppose that happened?”

  “I…” A terrible sense of dread flooded her when she realized the truth. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no.”

  “You’re not the first woman to engage in dalliances behind their fiancé’s back. I doubt you’ll be the last I see.” He smirked as he picked up his pen to make another note.

  “Don’t you dare write that down!” Lilly hissed. “I did not engage in a dalliance of any kind. I had not even met my husband three months ago. I was courted by a man who…who…” she could scarcely make herself speak the words—yet she must, to defend herself. “…who took advantage of me. I tried to fight him off, but…he was too strong.”

  “Mrs. Morgan.” Dr. Foyle—who looked barely a few years older than Lilly—set his pen down again, and folded his hands on the desk. “Before you run off and possibly ruin a man’s life by making allegations, you should give serious thought to the matter. Is it fair destroy a man’s reputation, all he’s worked for, and indeed, even possibly put him in prison—all because you don’t want your husband to learn of your…indiscretions?”

 
“How dare you? How dare you? You know nothing—nothing—of what I’ve been through! You…you impudent boy!” The emotions she had dammed up inside of herself for months finally broke free. She had been a victim long enough—she would not let another man make her feel small and insignificant. Tears of anger stung her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. “How could you say such a thing? How could you—?”

  A knock at the door interrupted her. Dr. Foyle, flashing Lilly a look of indignation, stood and opened it a crack, while Lilly smoothed down her shirtwaist and made sure she hadn’t missed a button, her chest heaving with fury.

  “I need you for a consultation, Dr. Foyle,” an older man’s voice murmured through the door.

  “You’re back already?”

  “Now, Gabriel.”

  “Of course, Dr. Archer,” the younger doctor replied, stepping out into the waiting room.

  Dr. Archer? Isn’t that Jake’s good friend? She hadn’t had the chance to meet the man yet, since he’d been called away for a medical emergency on the day of her wedding.

  As Foyle closed the door behind him, she could hear Dr. Archer hiss “What in the devil is going on in there? The husband’s just outside, worried sick, and I can hear his wife from out here in the waiting room…”

  The door shut, cutting off the conversation. Lilly only heard murmurs after that.

  A minute later, there was a knock, and the door opened. “Mrs. Morgan?”

  “Yes—come in.” She wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes.

  “Dr. Foyle said you were dressed, but I wanted to be sure before I entered. I’m Dr. Cornelius Archer. Are you feeling better?”

  Lilly nodded. “I am, now, yes.” She held the apple aloft, half-eaten. “I think this is helping.”

  Dr. Archer pulled the chair away from the writing desk, bringing it closer to Lilly, so that when he sat, they were face to face—though Lilly sat a few inches higher, on the examination table. “I don’t know if your husband has mentioned, but he and I are good friends.”