Scattered Petals

by Amanda Cabot

  “I wouldn’t have been the first. A woman named Elizabeth Blackwell is a doctor, and I heard that her sister is too. Papa considered it a bit of a scandal, but they’re planning to open an infirmary for women and children in New York City.”

  Zach didn’t care about Dr. Blackwell; he cared about the woman who was now his wife. Though the decision had been made some time in the past, her dream and the fact that it was unrealized had helped shape the woman Priscilla was today. “What made you want to travel such a difficult road?”

  When she met his gaze, Zach saw a sparkle of enthusiasm in her eyes. “I loved helping my father with his patients. I saw how he made a difference in their lives, and I wanted to do the same.”

  It was an admirable goal and one Zach shared. He liked thinking that he was helping Clay and his father. That was why he spent time each day teaching Robert to walk again. But surely Priscilla realized that practicing medicine was not the only way to help others. “Women make differences too.” He nodded when she held up the coffeepot and waited until she’d refilled his cup before he continued. “Women do things that only they can do. They create a home and raise children.”

  Priscilla took another sip of coffee. “I worried I’d never marry.”

  Though he’d been startled by the idea that Priscilla longed to be a physician, that shock paled compared to the one he’d just received. “Why on earth not? You must have had suitors by the score.”

  She shrugged. “There were none I wanted to marry. I knew not one of them was the man God had chosen for me.”

  Zach swallowed deeply at the realization that he wasn’t either, and yet she’d married him. Zeke Dunkler’s attack and its aftermath had left her no choice. Zach couldn’t change that, but perhaps there was a way to help Priscilla achieve her dream. “Have you talked to Clay? Now that Dr. Adler can’t practice, he’s complained about being too busy.” When the town’s sole doctor began to lose his sight, Clay had taken over his responsibilities. That was one of the reasons he’d hired Zach to manage the Bar C.

  Priscilla shook her head. “Even if he might have considered it before—and I doubt that—there’s no chance now that there’s a baby on the way. Clay was very protective of Patience when she was in my condition. He told her women needed to care for their babies, both before and after they were born.”

  Zach couldn’t disagree. He knew how unpredictable a doctor’s schedule was and could not imagine how a woman with children could handle it. The bandits, it seemed, had destroyed more than one of Priscilla’s dreams.

  “I don’t mean to complain,” she said as she placed a piece of apple pie before him, “but the days go slowly.”

  “It’ll be different after the baby comes.”

  Though Priscilla nodded, her eyes darkened with regret. “That’s still a long time away.”

  Zach had no answer for her.

  The next morning Priscilla was still thinking about her conversation with Zach. She wasn’t surprised that he’d been surprised, even shocked, by the fact that she’d once dreamt of becoming a doctor. Her parents had had even stronger reactions. Papa had told her it was impossible, that no school would accept her and that, even if one did, she would never be able to attract patients. “Ladies aren’t doctors,” he’d told her firmly. “I was wrong to take you with me.” And from that day forward, he’d refused to let her accompany him on his rounds.

  Mama had simply cried, demanding to know how she’d failed in her duty as a parent, for she must have failed if Priscilla, who could have her choice of eligible husbands, would even consider such an unwomanly occupation. Only Patience had offered sympathy, but she, too, had discouraged her sister from pursuing the idea, admitting that she wouldn’t allow a woman physician to treat her, even if that woman was her sister.

  There was no point in thinking of a career in medicine. Though it was true that her parents were not here to disapprove, Priscilla knew that becoming a doctor was no longer a possibility. She had new responsibilities to Zach and her unborn child. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t improve her days. When she’d wakened this morning, she had been filled with the conviction that she had to do something. The time she spent with Zach was surprisingly pleasant, but it wasn’t enough.

  What she craved was the company of others. As Priscilla had feared, when she discussed having Thea spend days with her, Sarah had confirmed that Thea would throw a tantrum if she didn’t go to school like all the other big girls. The Ranger’s visit, even though it had frightened Priscilla initially, had been a welcome change from the boredom that characterized her life now that she’d finished rearranging the house. He wouldn’t be back, and there were no other women on the ranch, but there was a solution to her ennui. She didn’t have to stay home. All she had to do was muster the courage to go into town.

  Two hours later, Priscilla hitched the horses in front of the mercantile. Though her palms were sweating inside her gloves, she tried to reassure herself. While it was true that this was the first time she’d visited Ladreville without Zach, there was nothing to fear. She was going into a store, not paying a personal visit. Besides, each time Priscilla encountered Isabelle, the lovely brunette urged her to come for a visit. It was time for that visit. Not only was Priscilla assured of a warm welcome at the Rousseaus’ store, but she would have the opportunity to learn whether Gunther had spoken to Isabelle.

  Closing the door behind her, Priscilla looked around. As she’d expected, the mercantile was smaller than the stores she had frequented in Boston, and some of the merchandise, including a stock of braided lariats, was different from anything she had seen back East. Despite the differences, it had the same mixture of aromas, a blend of spices mingled with leather and grains. It also had the person she sought. Isabelle sat behind the counter, perched on a high stool, chatting with another customer. Though the woman’s back looked familiar, Priscilla could not place her.

  “I can wait,” she said in response to Isabelle’s greeting. Priscilla was in no hurry, and the other customer had been here first. Though she headed toward the yard goods display, Isabelle had other ideas.

  “Come over here.” Isabelle crooked her finger to emphasize the invitation, although her tone of voice was little less than a command. Isabelle, Priscilla had learned from their encounters at church, was a determined woman. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Isabelle waited until Priscilla was near the counter before she said, “I’d like to introduce you to Yvonne Beauvais.”

  When the other woman turned, Priscilla realized why she seemed familiar. Yvonne had been seated a few pews in front of her and Zach last Sunday. A couple inches shorter than herself, Yvonne had hair so dark a brown that it appeared almost black and sparkling brown eyes. Though her face would never be called beautiful and her figure was plumper than current fashion dictated, Yvonne’s sweet smile made an onlooker forget her physical shortcomings.

  “Your arrival is providential.” Isabelle continued the introductions. “Yvonne has been married a little longer than you, and she was just now telling me how she longed for the company of another young married woman.”

  Priscilla’s smile broadened. She’d come in search of one companion, but it appeared she might have found two.

  “When I saw you and your husband in church last week,” Yvonne said in heavily accented English, “I told Neville we should invite you to join us for Sunday dinner. I’d like a new friend.”

  “So would I.” Friendship was what she sought, not a spool of thread.

  The three women chatted for the better part of a quarter hour, talking about everything and nothing, and for that space of time Priscilla was content. This was what she needed. If only it could happen more often. She thought of Yvonne’s invitation to Sunday dinner. Though an excursion with Zach would be pleasant, it would do nothing to relieve Priscilla’s boredom during the week. “Perhaps you’d also like to visit me. I don’t know what your house is like, but when Zach is gone, the ranch seems lonely.”

  “Ex
actement!” Yvonne nodded then repeated in English, “Exactly. Isabelle is too polite to complain, but I suspect she wishes I were a less frequent visitor here.”

  Isabelle pursed her lips and feigned dismay. “I would never chase away a customer.”

  “True. Unfortunately, I do not always make a purchase.” Yvonne’s eyes sparkled. “So, yes, Priscilla, I accept with pleasure. You and I have many things to discuss.”

  Her spirits lighter than they’d been in days, Priscilla turned to Isabelle. “I know you have to work here, but you close the store at midday. Would you be able to join us for dinner? Perhaps you and Yvonne could ride together.”

  “Magnifique!” Isabelle clapped her hands, her enthusiasm telling Priscilla that, though she spent hours with customers, she still longed for quiet conversation with other women. It appeared it wasn’t only Priscilla who felt that need. Perhaps this was the reason Mama had belonged to so many organizations. A quilting club, another devoted to tatting, still another that knitted layettes for the poor—every day of Mama’s life had been filled with meetings. At the time Priscilla had not understood. She had enjoyed quiet times, reading, walking in the park, visiting Grandmama’s grave. But now, faced with days of silence, she thought she understood her mother’s craving for adult companionship.

  “We wouldn’t have to rush our visit,” Isabelle continued. “Maman can mind the store on her own for an hour or so. That would give us time to talk.” Isabelle’s enthusiasm faded. One second she was smiling at both Priscilla and Yvonne. Then it was as if a cloud obscured the sun, sobering her expression. “Are you sure you want me to come? After all, you’re both newly wedded, and I’m . . .”

  “Our friend.” Priscilla would not let Isabelle complete her sentence. She saw the loneliness in her eyes, the fear that she would forever be an outsider when young married women met. In that moment, Priscilla understood why Sarah was so adamant about matchmaking for Isabelle. She also knew that Gunther had not spoken to her. “Of course we want you to come,” Priscilla said with a bright smile. “Who else will keep us informed of all the latest news?”

  Isabelle read the newspapers as soon as they arrived and could be counted on to recount the most important items. Just last week she had told Priscilla there was speculation that the delegation from Buffalo, New York, would not attend President Buchanan’s inauguration. According to the paper, they were disappointed that fellow Buffalonian Millard Fillmore had not been elected. Priscilla had scoffed when she’d heard the former president had run as part of the Know-Nothing party and had asked her friend how anyone could vote for a group with such an inauspicious name. Isabelle had simply shrugged her shoulders.

  “Who cares about the news?” Yvonne looked at the stack of bolts behind Isabelle. “Who else can offer good fashion advice, like which flannel I should buy?”

  “For a petticoat?”

  “No.” Yvonne shook her head as color rose to her cheeks. “A layette.”

  “You’re expecting!” Isabelle clapped her hands again.

  Yvonne smiled again. “All the signs are there. I haven’t spoken to Granny Menger yet, and Mama said I shouldn’t tell anyone other than Neville, but I couldn’t wait to start sewing, and I didn’t want to lie about the reason for the flannel.” Yvonne paused long enough to chuckle. “Red flannel might make a fine petticoat, but I don’t want to swaddle my baby in it. Oh, I’m so excited.”

  Isabelle hurried from behind the counter to hug her friend. “So am I. That’s wonderful news.”

  “Indeed it is.” For you, Priscilla added silently.

  “I feel awful.” Priscilla picked at the food on her plate. Since she’d caught cold yesterday, she’d had no appetite. Now all she wanted was to finish the meal so she could climb back into bed.

  Reaching for his coffee cup, Zach smiled. “You’re the only woman I know who can look beautiful with a red nose.”

  Priscilla couldn’t help it. She laughed. “And you’re the only man I know who’d lie about something like that.” She cringed each time she looked in the mirror. It wasn’t only her nose that was red. Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed too. She felt miserable, and she looked worse.

  Zach shrugged, sloughing off her accusation of prevarication. “That lie, as you refer to it, got you to laugh, didn’t it? Besides, you’ll be over this in a few days.”

  “I know.” Priscilla had spent enough time with Papa’s patients to know that this particular malady was not serious and that it would run its course in less than a week. “It’s not the stuffy head that’s making me feel awful. It’s having to cancel Isabelle and Yvonne’s visit.” She had spent days planning the menu, trying to make their first trip to the Lazy B a memorable one. “I can’t entertain guests when I feel like this.”

  “There’s always next week.”

  “You’re right.” A sneeze punctuated her words. “It is silly to be so disappointed. It’s just that I was looking forward to having company during the day.”

  Zach looked up from his plate. Unlike hers, his appetite had not diminished. “If it’s company you crave, I can always stay home.”

  Priscilla shook her head. Though the offer was generous, she could not accept it. “You’d never catch up if you did that.” In Priscilla’s estimation, running a ranch involved an incredible amount of work, and Zach was responsible for two. He’d regret even a day of idleness. “You’ve got fences to check and cattle to feed, but thanks for the offer. It was very kind of you.”

  “My mama taught me to be kind to ladies.” Though his lips were still curved in a smile, Zach’s eyes were serious.

  “This lady appreciates it.” Priscilla could not recall her father ever staying home to be with Mama when she suffered from the vapors or one of her other ailments. Perhaps that was because he knew Mama was surrounded by servants and that friends were as close as next door. Priscilla had no servants, only the woman who came two days a week to do the laundry, and her closest neighbors were two miles away.

  “You never talk about your parents,” she said, abandoning the pretense of eating. Her head hurt so much that chewing was painful, and her stuffy nose robbed the food of its flavor. “Are they still alive?”

  Zach eyed her plate, then taking care not to touch her, he reached for it and emptied the contents on his. “No point in wasting good food,” he said as he forked a potato. “Pa died when I was eleven, Ma about ten years ago.”

  So Zach had lost both parents too. “I’m sorry. I would have liked to have met them.”

  “They’d have liked you—especially Ma.” Zach cleaned his plate, then rose and gestured toward the notes Priscilla had written to Isabelle and Yvonne, advising them of her illness. He had agreed to deliver them as soon as supper was over. “I’d better head into town now. I don’t want to disturb the ladies too late.”

  With the unfailing courtesy that seemed to be his hallmark, Zach pulled out Priscilla’s chair. She had taken only a few steps toward the sink when the world turned black and her legs began to crumple.

  “Priscilla!” The next thing she knew, Zach had his arms around her.

  10

  It was only a matter of seconds before she was once more seated, but for the space of those seconds, she felt warm and comforted. Priscilla took a sip from the glass of water that he pushed toward her. “Thank you, Zach. I don’t know what happened.”

  “I do.” Zach’s voice was as strong as his arms had been. He stood next to her, not touching but close enough that he could catch her if she tumbled off the chair. When she looked up at him, she saw concern reflected in his eyes. “You’re sicker than you realize. I’m going to get Clay.”

  Priscilla took another sip of water. Though her head was still dizzy, she no longer felt as if she would collapse. “No. Honestly, Zach, it’s nothing serious. I just stood up too quickly. I’m fine now.” That was an exaggeration, but she needed to chase the worry from his eyes.

  “I know I promised to deliver those notes, but I don’t want to leave you a
lone.”

  His solicitude did more to clear her head than the cool water he’d insisted she drink. “I’ll be all right. I’ll rest until you’re back.” Priscilla rose, slowly and deliberately, waiting until her head stopped spinning before she took a step. Though her bedroom was only a short distance away and blessedly not up any stairs, she did not want to stagger while she walked. That would only increase Zach’s concern.

  He stayed at her side, and though he was close enough that she could feel his warmth, he was once again careful not to touch her. When they reached her room, he remained in the doorway, watching while Priscilla removed her shoes and lay on the bed, pulling a quilt over herself.

  “Promise you won’t move until I return.” Zach’s voice was husky with worry.

  “I promise.” As his footsteps faded, Priscilla closed her eyes. Though her head still hurt, her heart was filled with an unfamiliar warmth as she realized what had happened. Zach had touched her, and it had not hurt. This was not like their wedding day. Tonight he’d done far more than slide a ring onto her finger. Tonight he’d wrapped his arms around her and practically carried her back to the chair. By all rights, she should have been terrified. She should have trembled the way she did when the nightmares overtook her. But she hadn’t. Instead, she had known that he meant her no harm, and she had felt safe and cared for. Thank you, Lord.

  The man looked as out of place as a silver bowl in a pile of muck. Isabelle tried not to smile as she watched Gunther stroll around the store as if he were searching for something. He wasn’t, of course. She could tell that by the way he never paused to touch anything. Besides, with the exception of Christmas shopping, he brought Eva with him. Today he was simply passing time until Frau Bauer left.