Love Is Patient Romance Collection

by Vetsch, Erica; McDonough, Vickie; Barton, Janet Lee

  At least Ma didn’t argue with Gladys about heading to work today. Even though Gladys’s insides felt like burning fire, she wouldn’t refuse the food. She added a bit of butter and milk and honey and cinnamon to the oatmeal and took a spoonful. Delicious, soothing, especially with the light-as-air eggs that were even better than the ones Aunt Kate cooked at the diner. The warm coffee finished the job. “Thank you, Ma. For everything.” She threw her arms around her mother and hugged her. “You knew I’d head to work today.” She buttoned up her coat.

  “Of course.” Ma grinned. “You have to get more soup for Mr. Keller.”

  Haydn hadn’t slept much since Saturday night. After Grandfather’s foolish hours spent chopping wood outside, he had turned really and truly sick. Haydn had never experienced a storm quite like this. Wind and snow blew so hard, a person could get lost walking from his house to the barn and back. With Grandfather so ill, Haydn did what he could and prayed for the best until the storm ended.

  Dozing in the chair beside his grandfather’s bed, Haydn woke with a start in the middle of the night. Peering through the snow crystals on the window, he saw that the storm had stopped. Grandfather’s breathing had eased. As long as he was resting, Haydn would take advantage of the opportunity to clear a path to the street. Grandfather needed a doctor, although Haydn felt uncomfortable leaving him alone in the house for the time it would take to fetch one.

  Haydn grabbed a shovel from the mudroom and opened the front door. The snow had drifted higher on the porch than he expected, in spite of the protection of the overhang. He stayed in the doorway only long enough to clear a place to stand then he shut the door behind him, trapping the heat inside. Soon enough the effort he expended left him warm, and he worked with a will.

  When he left the porch, the snow reached Haydn’s knees, and moonshine sparkled on the diamondlike surface. He continued until the first rays of the sun reminded him of the passage of time. As much as he wanted to finish the job, he needed to check on his grandfather. He tramped up the steps and opened the door, carrying his boots and snow-soaked garments to the adjacent mudroom.

  Haydn added another log to the fire. The extra wood Grandfather had chopped had come in handy after all. Upstairs, the Old Man slept so peacefully that Haydn put his head to his chest to make sure he was still breathing. Pioneers lived like this all the time, with no medical help available except what they could do for themselves, locked up in a single-room hovel with no way to reach the outside world.

  Haydn’s experience hadn’t prepared him for this kind of isolation. He didn’t mind taking care of Grandfather or clearing the path, but he couldn’t do both at once. Padding down the stairs to the kitchen, he scraped the last of Aunt Kate’s chicken soup into a bowl. They’d reached the end of the food she had provided. He’d have to cook their next meal, maybe sausage gravy and biscuits.

  Grandfather managed to eat the small amount of soup and drink a few sips of tea before he slipped back into sleep. His breathing rasped, and he felt hot to the touch. Thrashing, he threw his quilts on the floor. Every time Haydn replaced them, he flung them down again.

  Haydn didn’t know if he should keep Grandfather covered or allow him to cool down, without the quilts. The front parlor seemed like a good solution. With the fire, Grandfather would stay warm even if he kicked off every cover. Haydn placed one arm under the Old Man’s neck and another under his knees. Amazing how insubstantial his grandfather felt in his arms, his body emaciated by illness. He picked his way down the stairs and laid Grandfather on the couch. Plumping the pillow under his head and covering him with a quilt, Haydn looked into his face. Seen like this, the man inspired pity and even love. He had lived and loved and survived.

  If Haydn wanted to please his oldest living relative, he was supposed to find a wife within the next two months. So far the only women of marriageable age he had met in Calico were all members of Gladys’s sewing circle. The ones who gossiped about Grandfather’s money. “Lord, what am I supposed to do? Are You going to send a bride my way by special delivery on a train?”

  Grandfather grunted at that, and Haydn rushed to his side. “What is it?”

  Grandfather opened those dark eyes, clear for the first time since his collapse. “God will provide.” His eyes drifted shut, and Haydn almost thought he had imagined those few words.

  Because of checking on Grandfather so often, Haydn scorched his oatmeal. Bringing a big bowl out to the parlor, he ate it quickly and set it to one side. The family Bible sat on a nearby shelf, and he reached for it. With interest, he read the family record: his grandparents’ marriage, his father’s birth, the birth and death of a younger sister, his parents’ marriage, his own birth as well as his younger brother’s.

  Of his grandmother’s death, no record had been made. Looking at the flowing script, Haydn wondered if she had kept the records up to that point. He found no mention of his youngest brother, born twelve years ago. Haydn found writing materials in the study. No one else was available to bring the family record up to date. He added Grandmother’s name but laid down the pen when he couldn’t recall the exact date of her death. Maybe he could find it on her gravestone. After adding his brother’s birth date, his eyes drifted to the page set apart to record marriages. With only two entries, the blank lines called to him. Whose name would be joined with his?

  Haydn turned to the gospel of Mark, hoping Mark’s active writing style, rather like the way he wrote for the newspaper, would hold his interest. But before he could even finish the account of John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness, the Bible dropped into his lap and he fell asleep.

  Loud knocking awakened Haydn, and a familiar voice called, “Mr. Keller? Haydn?”

  Gladys. How had she made her way to his doorstep through the snow?

  Gladys held Aunt Kate’s basket on her arm. The unrelenting freeze continued even without wind-whipped snow driving icy pellets into her face. Pastor Fairfield was with her. He had rallied the men who made it to the diner to sweep through the town, stopping at every house not yet dug out from the storm. Gladys came with him as far as the Keller mansion, wanting to deliver food.

  “Just a minute,” Haydn called to them through the door. A light wind had scattered a thin blanket of snow over the porch boards she assumed Haydn had shoveled. She shivered and hoped he had convinced Mr. Keller to keep the front room warm. The doorknob rattled, and the door swung open with a welcome whoosh of warm air. “Gladys, Pastor Fairfield. Come in. What brings you out on such a cold day?”

  “We’re checking all the houses that haven’t dug out from the snow yet,” Pastor Fairfield said. “I see you started but didn’t have a chance to finish.”

  “And I brought you some soup.” Gladys pointed to the basket on her arm. She glanced into the parlor, where she could see Mr. Keller stretched out under a quilt. “Is Mr. Keller ill?”

  “Yes.” Haydn conveyed a lot of emotion with that one word. “What about the doctor? Is he available?”

  Pastor Fairfield nodded. “He was one of the men at the diner whom we recruited to go door-to-door. I’ll hunt him down and tell him he’s needed over here.” He patted the top of his hat. “I’ll move on, then. Are you able to see yourself home, Miss Polson?” He shook Haydn’s hand. “I’ll ask my wife to come by later to see if you need any additional help.”

  Gladys nodded. “I’ll go back to the diner. That’s the first place people head when they get out of the house. Aunt Kate will need my help.”

  “Come in and sit a spell, if you care to.” Haydn acted pleased to see her, as if they had parted on the best of terms. He helped her out of her coat and took her basket. “You’re an angel sent by God Himself. We were down to my biscuits and gravy for supper, and I’ll warn you, that’s not too good.”

  Gladys smiled politely. She walked closer and stood over Mr. Keller, assessing his condition. His cheeks were flushed, and his breathing was raspy.

  A quilt molded into the shape of a man filled the chair next to
the sofa. Haydn drew another chair close to the sofa and held it for her.

  “How long has Mr. Keller been sick?” Gladys settled into the roomy chair. She could barely touch the floor with her toes.

  “When I got home on Sunday, the foolish man was outside chopping wood. He got very sick not long after that.”

  “And you’ve been by his side ever since?” She shook her head. “You can’t do that night and day.”

  “It hasn’t been so bad.” The droop to Haydn’s eyes suggested otherwise. “I’ve slept in snatches.”

  “And you stayed awake long enough to start clearing that path.”

  “I was trying to figure out how I could finish the path, get to the doctor, and keep an eye on Mr. Keller all at the same time.” He leaned forward and tugged the quilt over the older man’s shoulders. “I don’t know what I would have done if Pastor Fairfield hadn’t stopped by and offered to get the doctor.”

  Haydn was one special man, taking such good care of a business associate who could be as grouchy as a mama bear with cubs when roused. Gladys made a snap decision. “I’ll stay here with him. If we need extra help, I’ll ask the sewing circle. Mrs. Fairfield, too. You can’t stay in Calico forever, not with business back home to attend to.”

  Haydn fell back against his chair, disappointment stamped on his face.

  Chapter 8

  Haydn’s eyes strayed to the family Bible, which had fallen open to the page for recording family marriages. A couple of times recently, when his heart tried to cast Gladys in that role, he’d remembered what she said about Grandfather’s riches. He still didn’t know how important money was to her or what to expect if she learned about his relationship with his grandfather.

  He realized his brief silence had distressed her. “My family’s association with Mr. Keller is of long standing. They would not want me to return as long as he is ill.” He stopped short of reminding her that his business concerns weren’t any of her concern. That would be rude, when all she had done was offer to help.

  The clouds in her eyes cleared, and she smiled. “The offer to help still stands. You can’t continue to take care of him twenty-four hours a day. Let me at least help with that.” She leaned forward, brushing his grandfather’s hair back from his temples. “He has lovely, thick hair. Sleeping like that, he doesn’t look sick. Like he could jump off that sofa and stomp down the walk and join us at the diner. I know Aunt Kate would like to see him.”

  When Gladys acted as solicitous as a granddaughter might, Haydn didn’t know what to think.

  Someone knocked at the door, sparing him. He opened the door to a welcome figure carrying a black bag

  Gladys sprang to her feet. “Dr. Devereux! I’m so glad Pastor Fairfield found you.”

  The doctor knocked snow off his boots. “I would have been here sooner except I had to go back to the diner for my bag. Now, what seems to be the problem?”

  Haydn described the past few days while the doctor examined his patient. “There’s not much to do beyond what you are already doing. Medicine has made some remarkable discoveries, but we still don’t have a cure for the common cold. Let me see how bad he is.” Dr. Devereux placed his stethoscope against Grandfather’s chest.

  “Get that thing off me. It’s cold enough to freeze my skin.” Grandfather pushed away the instrument and glared at Devereux. “I don’t like doctors. All you do is say a bunch of words and charge a lot of money.”

  The doctor continued checking him. “I don’t like the sound of his lungs. If he gets too restless, you can give him some of this laudanum.” He poured a small amount into a bottle. “Only a teaspoon, and only if he really needs it.”

  “Dr. Devereux, should we use a cold compress? Or do they do more harm than good?” Gladys asked.

  “I’m not sure what the scientists say. But I figure remedies folks have used for years must have some value. Otherwise, people would stop using them. Steam, too, can help clear his sinuses.”

  Gladys nodded. Haydn would ask for an explanation about a cold compress later. “One more thing I can recommend. Mr. Keller has a strong constitution, and I expect him to get better. But in case this takes a turn for the worse, perhaps you should inform his family of his condition. I’ve heard him mention a son. Do you know whom to contact, young man?”

  Haydn stammered a bit. “Yes, I believe so.” Me. “I’ll send a letter to his son as soon as I find out if the postal service is working.” He’d do that, too. His father would want to know.

  “Good.” Dr. Devereux shifted his bag into his left hand. “Unfortunately, family business demands that I leave town as soon as possible. My daughter is expecting a difficult, um, confinement. There is an excellent physician over in Langtry. He’ll be here next week, but if you need a doctor before then, you can contact him and see if he can come.”

  The doctor must have seen the terror that Haydn felt at his words. “As I’ve said, most of the time these illnesses work themselves through the system. Mr. Keller is a strong individual, and I expect him to rebound. I’ll keep you both in my prayers.”

  Haydn asked, “How much do we owe you for the visit?”

  “I’m not going to pay that charlatan a single penny,” Grandfather rasped.

  “Don’t worry about that now. You just focus on getting him better.” The doctor disappeared through the door.

  “I’ll go home and gather my things before I return.” Gladys stared at Haydn, as if daring him to disagree. “I’ll let my parents know where I’m going to be, and I need to get word to Aunt Kate not to expect me. I’ll set up a schedule with Mrs. Fairfield.” As she ticked off the things she would do, Haydn alternated between wanting to hug her and to shoo her away.

  By the time she came back, Haydn had started on biscuits to eat with Aunt Kate’s soup. Gladys carried a small valise with her. “Where can I leave my things?” She headed up the stairs as if she planned to stay awhile.

  “There’s a room to the left of the stairs,” he called after her. “Do you want to eat?”

  “Yes.” She peered down the stairs. “Let me finish those biscuits for you. Give me a minute.” She returned a few minutes later, her feet encased in warm slippers. “You go out there and stay with Mr. Keller while I finish up cooking.”

  Haydn wished they could linger over the table, enjoying bowls of soup and biscuits slathered in butter. But that defeated the purpose of watching over Grandfather.

  Pulling his chair away from the fire, where the warmth tempted him to slumber, Haydn opened his Bible to Mark’s gospel again. What would Jesus do if He showed up in Calico today? Would He have stilled the snowstorm that cut Grandfather off from a doctor’s help when he needed it? Would He accept an invitation to supper and heal Grandfather as long as He was in the house? Sometimes the Jesus of the Gospels seemed remote from life almost nineteen hundred years later.

  Except for someone like Gladys, who loved people the way Jesus loved them. She brought out a tray with three bowls and a platter of biscuits. “I have an apple cobbler and whipping cream for dessert. Mr. Keller might not be able to eat it, but we can enjoy it.”

  Haydn spared a thought to wonder who had canned the jars in the pantry. Aunt Kate was probably behind the food. Gladys didn’t touch her bowl; instead, she woke up Mr. Keller and fed him vegetable broth one spoonful at a time. She didn’t stop until he emptied the bowl. “I bet a glass of milk would taste good, but I wonder if it would curdle in his stomach when he’s sick like this.” She lifted his head so he could drink from a glass of water.

  Mr. Keller opened his eyes and roused enough to look around. “Minnie, is that you?” Lifting a shaky finger, he pointed it at Haydn. “Young man, you take good care of my Minnie, now.” Refusing Gladys’s offer of more water, he closed his eyes again.

  “Minnie was his wife.” Gladys’s voice shook a little. “That was sweet.” She exchanged the empty bowl for a full one.

  “Do you want me to heat that for you?” His own empty bowl made him embarrassed. He ha
dn’t waited on Grandfather; he hadn’t even said a silent word of grace.

  “This is fine.” She gestured with her spoon. “Feel free to get yourself some more soup, or if you’re ready, bring out the cobbler.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a second bowl of soup.” He had given Grandfather the rest of the chicken soup yesterday. For himself, he hadn’t eaten more than that bowl of charred oatmeal since then.

  “Good. Then we can eat together.”

  After they finished the meal in companionable silence, Gladys insisted she would stay up that night with Mr. Keller. “You need to get some rest yourself, before you come down with whatever he has.”

  When she volunteered to share his burden like that, it was hard not to think of her as a potential partner in more than taking care of his sick grandfather.

  On Wednesday night, Mr. Keller was restless enough to need laudanum. “I think it’s gone into his chest,” Gladys told Haydn.

  “Do we need to go get that other doctor?” Haydn asked.

  “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here.” Coughing broke up Mr. Keller’s words. That last bout of chest-racking coughs had awakened him. For the past twenty-four hours, he hadn’t been able to sleep more than half an hour at a time. “I told you. No doctors. I hauled Minnie all the way to Topeka to see a doctor, and he didn’t do her any good.”

  Gladys couldn’t combat that argument, even when Haydn looked at her so pleadingly for an answer. “You heard what Dr. Devereux said. There’s not much more the doctor could do.” Taking Mr. Keller’s hand, she made him look at her. “Mrs. Fairfield promised to ask Ma to bring over our medical book the last time she was here. It’ll have some ideas we haven’t tried yet.”

  She didn’t add that she had asked Ma to also bring the small box where she kept her savings from work. She’d intended to use it for setting up her own house when she married, but she would willingly spend every penny if it would help Mr. Keller get better. Of course he had plenty of money, but she didn’t know where he kept it. And she wouldn’t feel right if she took it without asking him, even if it was to pay for his own supplies.