Family of the Heart

by Dorothy Clark

  “Me see Papa?”

  “Yes. You will see your papa tomorrow.” She carried Nora toward her crib, swerved and headed for the rocker, back now in its customary place on the hearth. She did not want to let go of Nora yet. She would hold her for a little longer. She sat and cuddled the toddler close, hummed softly.

  “Wiggles scratcheded me.” Nora offered her arm for inspection.

  “I know, but he did not mean to hurt you.” Sarah kissed the red mark on the pudgy little wrist. “There. All better.”

  Nora yawned, wiggled closer. “Me made Papa’s head better.”

  Sarah froze in midrock. “What did you do?”

  “Me made…Papa’s…head better…”

  Sarah looked down. Nora’s eyes were drooping. No. Do not sleep yet, Nora. “You kissed your papa’s head?” She held her breath.

  Nora’s head moved up and down against her breast in a sleepy nod. She stuck her thumb in her mouth. Her eyes closed. Sarah released her breath, stared down at the smudge of brown lashes against round, rosy cheeks, the tiny nose, the soft pink mouth circling the small thumb. Why, you little sweetheart! She laughed softly, rested her head back and resumed rocking. She should have known Nora would not need her help to capture her father’s heart.

  Thought of Clayton brought the worry that had been haunting her leaping over the barrier she had raised against it. Was he all right? She frowned, rose and carried Nora to her crib, tucked her in and lowered the wick in the lamp. Clayton Bainbridge was no longer her concern. And he certainly did not want her fussing over him. He had dismissed her nursing services and rid himself of her presence at the first possible moment. His wishes could not be more clear. And she was thankful to be rid of the responsibility of his care. He meant nothing to her. Her concern for him was merely habit.

  My, it was quiet.

  Sarah closed the shutters, adjusted the slats to let in the warm night air and looked around the room. Everything had been put back in its place. It was good to have things settled again. She walked into her bedroom, glanced toward the landing. The lamp was burning bright in Clayton’s room. He must be reading. He had requested several books from the library earlier.

  She went to the cupboard in the fireplace nook and took out a nightgown, her robe and slippers. Should she change into them? What if he needed her during the night? That did not seem likely. He did not wake and thrash around anymore. It had been she that needed him yesterday, during the storm. He was very wise. She had taken his advice and it truly had helped to talk about what had happened to Aaron and to her. Last night was the first time she had slept through the night since that tragic day. And it had nothing to do with Clayton Bainbridge holding her hand. It was the unburdening of her spirit that helped. Still, he had been kind and understanding.

  Sarah worried the soft cotton fabric of her nightclothes between her fingers and looked at the door. Perhaps she should go and see if he needed anything before she retired. She tossed the clothes on her bed, walked to the door and stepped out onto the landing. The light in Clayton’s room dimmed and went out. She stopped, took another step, listened. Nothing but silence. He had no need of her.

  A wave of emotion, a horrible feeling she did not understand, swept over her. She felt…rudderless…like one of her father’s ships adrift on the ocean without course or direction.

  She blinked and dragged in a deep breath. There was something horribly wrong with her tonight—but she would be better tomorrow. Yes. Everything would be better tomorrow. And right now the best thing for her to do was have a good wash and go to bed. She turned and went back into her room.

  That was close. Too close! Clayton scowled into the dark. He had turned his lamp down just in time. Sarah moved so softly, if it were not for that squeaky board on the landing he would not have known she was coming until it was too late to feign sleep. And he was not at all sure he would have the strength to tell her he did not need her. He never had been a good liar.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Hmm, the bruise looks better. Still have a hard lump here above your hip bone though.”

  The doctor’s fingers prodded his flesh. “Ugh.” Clayton scowled, gritted his teeth.

  “Still tender, eh? How’s the head?”

  “Fine. No pain at all.”

  “Good, good.” Dr. Parker moved toward the foot of the bed. “You say you can lift your foot now?”

  “Yes.” Clayton braced himself for the test that was coming.

  “Lift it up.”

  He held his breath, lifted his left foot, held it there, muscles quivering, until the doctor nodded.

  “Good. You are doing better than I expected.”

  The doctor gave him an assessing look. Clayton relaxed his clenched jaw, smiled—though he feared it was closer to a grimace.

  “Think you can swing your legs over and sit on the edge of the bed?”

  “Doc, if it will get me out of this bed, I will do a somersault.”

  Dr. Parker chuckled, moved up closer to the head of the bed. “All right, then…easy now.”

  It took everything he had, but Clayton managed to move his legs to the side of the bed and hang them over the edge. He gave the doctor a crooked grin. “Victory.”

  Dr. Parker grinned back and gave him a clap on the shoulder that almost toppled him from the bed. “You’re as tough as your father was, Clay. Now where is that cane your grandpap used when his rheumatism outdid his stubborn?”

  Clayton’s heart leaped. “In the cupboard by the fireplace—leaning in the back corner.”

  The doctor nodded, walked to the cupboard and got the cane. “I’ll have your word that if I let you out of bed, you will not try it on your own. You only get up when Quincy is about to help you. A fall could do you a lot of harm.”

  “I understand.”

  “All right, then. Put your hands on my shoulders, brace your weight on me, and slide forward till your feet touch the floor. Good thing you got them long Bainbridge legs. You could never navigate them bed steps with a cane.”

  Clayton did as ordered. His leg threatened to collapse under him when he stood, but he willed it to hold.

  “Rest a bit, then we will walk to the chair there by the window—one step at a time, and rest in between.”

  It took four steps with Dr. Parker’s help to cover what was normally one stride for him, but he made it.

  “Rest a few minutes, son, then we will get you back in—”

  “Doc! Doc!” A boy burst in the room, laboring for breath.

  “What is it, Willy?”

  “It’s Pa…he fell out the…haymow. He ain’t movin’. Ma said I should…come fetch you back with me.”

  “Sorry, Clay, I have to go.” The doctor picked up his bag, slapped on his hat and hurried for the door. “I’ll tell Eldora to send Quincy up to help you back to bed.”

  Footsteps clattered down the stairs. Clayton blew out a breath and stared at the bed, which suddenly looked a mile away. Quincy had gone to help Zach Miller with a sick mare. And there was no telling when he would be home. He looked down at the cane in his hand and shook his head. “Looks as if it is you and me, Grandpa.”

  “Mr. Bainbridge.”

  Sarah. Clayton looked up, heart pounding. She was standing in the doorway to the winder stairs landing.

  “Quincy is away, I have come to help you back to bed.”

  He stared, drinking in the sight of her—her slender form, her beautiful face, her light-brown hair piled high on the crown of her head. His mouth went taut, the knuckles on his hand gripping the cane went white. He was starved for her presence, and a man had only so much strength. He had already proven he was weak, and if he put his arm around her…He breathed deep, shook his head. “You are too slight, Miss Randolph. Your strength is insufficient.”

  She stared at him. His heart thudded, his pulse roared through his veins. He forced himself to look away, focused on her hand gripping the door latch. Remembered the soft warmth of it in his.

  “
We do not know when Quincy will return.”

  He nodded, stared down at his hand on the cane. “Nonetheless, I will wait. You may return to Nora.” He put dismissal in his voice.

  “Very well.”

  Her skirts rustled softly. The sound drew nearer. The scalloped hem of her dark-blue gown brushed against his leg. He clenched his jaw, stared at the cane.

  “Here is the bell.” There was a clang as she placed it on the chest beneath the window beside him. “Should Quincy tarry, and you tire, I will be in the garden with Nora.”

  Her skirt billowed, disappeared from his view. He kept his gaze fixed on the cane until he heard her going down the stairs. When he heard the murmur of voices from the kitchen, he put his free hand on the chest, tightened his grip on the cane and pushed to his feet. His left leg quivered. He took his weight on his right leg, set his jaw and moved the cane forward. Well, this is it. Sorry, Doc. I have no choice. He let go of the chest, shifted his weight onto the cane, swung his left leg forward, and stepped forward with his right. He paused, stood there on his right leg, using the cane and his weak left leg for balance, and rested. One step accomplished—three to go.

  “Diphtheria.” James Randolph stopped pacing and looked at his parents. “I shall leave for Cincinnati immediately and bring Sarah home.”

  “No, James.” Elizabeth smiled at the son, who was so like his father, but made her voice firm. “Your father and I agreed that we would trust Sarah to the Lord’s care.”

  “So I did, Elizabeth, but diphtheria…” Justin Randolph scowled, clasped his hands behind his back and rocked forward on his toes. “I agree with James, I think we have to get Sarah out of that city.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, tapped the letter in her hand. “Sarah says the epidemic is on the wane. And time has already passed since she wrote the letter. By the time James arrived the epidemic would be over and all danger would have passed. And Sarah is needed to care for the little girl and, now, to nurse Mr. Bainbridge.”

  Justin’s scowl darkened. “Common sense—most frustrating at a time like this. But, you are right, my love—” his scowl turned to a smile “—as usual.”

  “I could go to Cincinnati and care for the toddler.” Mary cast a hopeful look at her father. “That will ease Sarah’s burden. And I am good with children. Aunt Laina says so.”

  “No, Mary.” Justin’s voice was firm. “It is good of you to be concerned for your sister, but one daughter so far away is enough. You will stay here. Though your idea is a good one. I will send Ellen back.”

  Elizabeth looked at him.

  Justin gave an exasperated growl. “You know how Sarah sickens at sight of the slightest injury, Elizabeth. Ellen can nurse the man and—”

  “And destroy what the Lord may be doing, not only in Sarah’s life, but in Mr. Bainbridge’s and the child’s, as well?” Elizabeth placed her hand on her husband’s arm, looked at her children. “I know you all want to protect and help Sarah—as do I. But can you not see, bringing her home or easing her burden would be doing her a disservice.”

  “Mother, you always think the Lord is in everything that happens to one of us.” Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes things simply happen.”

  Elizabeth eyed her daughter. “Mary, Sarah, our Sarah, is nursing Mr. Bainbridge. She has cleansed his wound, and cared for him day and night. And she is caring for the child, as well, because there is no other to assume the tasks. And she is praying for Mr. Bainbridge’s recovery and asks us to pray for him. And to continue praying that God would unite father and daughter. You do not see the Lord’s hand in all of that?”

  Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes. “Sarah is praying. She is returning to her faith. And I believe the Lord—in His own mysterious way—is answering her prayers. And ours. And those of Mr. Bainbridge’s housekeeper and her husband. ‘Grant it, O Lord.’” She laughed in sheer delight at the story Sarah had related in her letter, of Eldora’s attitude and prayer. “Sarah is furious with the two of them. And, I believe, it is because she has growing feelings for Mr. Bainbridge and is frightened by them. But that will pass when the Lord has His way.”

  Elizabeth looked at her family, saw agreement in her husband’s eyes, doubt in James’s, and rebellion in Mary’s. If only you could deposit your own faith in your children. She sighed and continued her explanation. “I see God’s hand very clearly in this situation. I believe He has used the unfortunate circumstances of Sarah’s grief over Aaron, Mr. Bainbridge’s accident and the diphtheria epidemic to force them and the child into a…a cocoon of closeness that can bring about healing for them all.” She looked up at her husband. “Would you send Ellen to free Sarah from her nursing duties and perchance destroy what the Lord is doing?”

  Sarah grabbed her straw hat, plunked it on her head and hurried down the winder stairs. She had listened to Nora’s chatter and Clayton’s deep-voiced responses long enough. She would follow his suggestion and go for a walk.

  She stepped out into the kitchen, redolent with the scents of a meal in progress, and strode to the door. “I am going for a walk, Eldora. I shall return shortly.”

  “No need t’ hurry.” The housekeeper buried her hands in the ball of dough on the table and pushed. “Now that Lucy’s back, she can answer the bell and take care of things.”

  Yes. So I have been told. Sarah nodded and stepped outside. Rays of golden light beamed down from a sun riding high in a cloud-dotted, bright-blue sky. A breeze whispered through the air to rustle treetops. It was a perfect summer day.

  She walked out the gravel way, glanced at the town and turned to follow the road up the hill. She was in no mood for people. She wanted to throw stones across a pond and cause the smooth, serene surface to splash and ripple. What she really wanted was to cause a ripple on Mr. Clayton Bainbridge’s serene countenance. The man had no emotions! Except when it came to Nora.

  Sarah slowed her ground-eating pace. It was amazing how Clayton had changed about his daughter. He spent time with her every morning and afternoon. And Nora loved being with her papa. And she was happy for Nora. She truly was. She was thrilled the little girl had her father’s love and attention. It was only…Only nothing!

  She glanced at the road ahead and turned down the path to Clayton’s private place. She settled her straw hat firmly on her head and stayed as far away from the thornapple trees as possible. Tears filmed her eyes. She hurried past the spot where she had become entangled—where Clayton had freed her—and broke out into the open glade. The pond glistened in the sunshine, peaceful and calm. She gathered a few stones, walked to the large boulder and sat down. All desire to throw a stone into the smooth surface disappeared. She turned the stones over in her hand, studying the coloring and veining that made each unique.

  Why was she excluded from Clayton’s time with Nora? Why did he now call on Lucy if he had a need? He had banished her from his life. What had she done to make him so repulsed by her presence? And why did it matter so much?

  Sarah lifted her gaze and stared at the water. Perhaps it was time to think about going home. She had accomplished her goal. Not the one for herself—she had come to escape grief and now suffered a greater hurt—but she had accomplished the purpose she had found on her arrival. Clayton loved his daughter. Nora had her papa. Yes. Perhaps it was time to go home.

  She sighed, rose and walked to the water’s edge. As soon as Clayton was completely healed and his life had returned to normal she would tell him she wanted to go back to Philadelphia. She would wait until then. For even though he no longer had need of her care and did not desire her company, she could not bear to go until she knew he was all right.

  Tears flowed down her cheeks. Sarah dropped the stones into the water, lifted her hands and wiped them away. But still they came, faster and faster as the hurt in her heart grew and spread like the ripples on the water. She was unable to stem the tears, unable to restrain the sobs that burst from her throat in broken gasps. What had happened to her? She did not want to go back home.
Did not want to leave Stony Point—or Eldora and Quincy. And Nora. Oh, how could she endure to leave Nora? And—

  Sarah caught her breath, refusing to think further, to give words to the ache in her heart. She looked down and studied the stones at her feet, picked up a small, smooth gray one and clasped it tight in her hand. It was a fitting symbol of Stony Point. She would keep it with her always. And whenever she looked at it she would remember.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Here is the thread you asked for, Eldora. And I have something else for you.” Sarah handed the housekeeper a paper-wrapped parcel.

  “A present?” Eldora frowned. “There ain’t no reason for buying presents.” She picked up a knife and cut the string.

  Only that I will soon be leaving. “I know, but I saw it in Mrs. Avis’s store window and—” Sarah stopped at the housekeeper’s gasp. “I hope you like it. I thought it would look lovely with your gray church dress.”

  Eldora lifted the black knit shawl out of the paper, fingered the wide lace edging. “I ain’t never had nothing so fine as this.”

  “Then it is time you did.” Sarah smiled at Eldora’s pleasure. It took some of the sadness away. “And here is something for Quincy.” She handed her a penknife with a bone grip. “I know little of such things, but I am assured by Mr. Jackson that it is a knife of finest quality. I hope Quincy will find it useful.” And that you will both remember me when I am gone.

  “Oh, my.” The housekeeper turned the knife over in her hands, looked up. “Sarah, what—”

  “Me gots a puppy!”

  Sarah looked toward the door as Nora burst into the kitchen. Her gaze met Clayton’s. He stopped in the doorway. She jerked her gaze to Nora, knelt to catch the excited toddler in her arms. “What is this?”