The Halsey Brothers Series

by Paty Jager

  “Mrs. White, thank you for helping out.” Rachel’s cheerful voice didn’t portray any stress.

  Clay smiled. Sylvie tugged on his hand, and he had to think back to where he left off in the story. He picked up the tale as Rachel and the matron’s voices drifted away.

  If he weren’t laid up, he’d offer to walk with her to see this other doctor. The only good to come from his injury was being able to spend more time with the intriguing doctor. And he planned to make the most of his time.

  Chapter 11

  Rachel patted the side of her face, making sure the make-up felt smooth. Her mother had packed the face powder and small container of lard to mix it in. Dr. Runkle, who’d cared for her after the accident, knew of her scar, but she refused to walk around town without the make-up. Though she wasn’t vain like her mother and sister, she didn’t like witnessing the pity or horror in people’s eyes.

  She crossed Dr. Runkle’s front porch and knocked on the door. The physician had retired several years before her return to Salem. She’d hoped he would share his practice with her upon her return. But due to a heart attack which left his left side paralyzed, he’d given it over to another doctor before she finished her schooling. The new physician didn’t approve of women practicing medicine.

  Dr. Runkle opened the door, leaning heavily on a cane. “Rachel, what a wonderful surprise!” His gravelly voice shook more than the last time they’d visited. Hands, gnarled and knobby from arthritis, waved her into the dark interior of his simple single-story home.

  She’d been in his home as a patient and a colleague. She ambled down the hall, allowing for his slow movements, and entered his office. The room overflowed with books on shelves and tables just as it had the day he told her mother nothing more could be done for the scar marring her oldest daughter’s face.

  Rachel inhaled—musty books, stale cigar smoke, and liniment assailed her nostrils.

  “Is this a social or professional call?” he asked, shuffling to the chair behind his desk. Rachel sat in a wooden chair in front of the desk.

  “Professional. I have a student at the blind school who broke out in a rash two days ago. Last night her throat closed up and I had to perform a tracheotomy. The swelling was down this morning, but I don’t know what’s causing her symptoms. She isn’t feverish and doesn’t exhibit any symptoms other than the rash and swelling.” She ruffled the curls around her face.

  “Sounds like there’s something in the school irritating her. Either something she breathes, eats, or comes in contact with. You’re going to have to find out all you can about where she lives, and then figure out what it is that’s different.”

  Rachel leaned back in the chair. “Thank you. I’ve been reading my books and couldn’t find anything that made sense.”

  “Sometimes it isn’t what you find in the books but what you’ve encountered that helps you diagnose.”

  She smiled. “That’s why I came to you. With your years of knowledge, I figured you’d know what I needed to do.” She started to stand.

  His fading green eyes stared at her. “How’s it going over at the school?”

  “It’s going as well as can be expected. Besides the child, I set a broken leg yesterday on an adult patient. He climbed on the roof.” She smiled as she thought of how Clay had responded to Donny’s question that morning.

  “A blind adult? What was he doing on the roof?”

  “Helping the handyman. He doesn’t take all the classes the younger students do.” She hoped her disclosure didn’t bring bad light to the school.

  Dr. Runkle shook his head. “I take it this man hasn’t been blind for very long?”

  “No, he’s still testing his limits on what he can and can’t do.” She thought of his audacity of pulling her onto his bed, and her heart accelerated. He also tested her self-control with his charm.

  “He should keep you busy during his stay at the school.” The old man chuckled.

  In more ways than you know. “We’re all hoping this last escapade will teach him.”

  “I doubt it.” Laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. “Any man who would climb onto a roof when he’s blind is not a man to let his condition limit him.”

  “Thank you for your help.” Rachel stood. “I don’t want to leave either patient for too long. It’s hard telling what kind of trouble they might get into.”

  Dr. Runkle placed his hands on the desk and pushed as though to stand.

  “I can find my way out.” She smiled brightly at the gentleman and hurried down the hall and out onto the street.

  Rachel thought of the doctor’s words as she wandered back through town toward the school.

  “Rachel!”

  She stopped and scanned the boardwalk. Her sister and a state representative sat at an outside table in front of a café. The man, Wayne Wright, had been keeping time with Celeste on a regular basis.

  Celeste smiled at the man as he stood, took her gloved hand, and kissed her knuckles. She watched a sparkle light her sister’s green eyes as the sun shimmered on the blonde ringlets cascading down her back from under a fashionable hat. Her sister had to be the most beautiful woman in Salem. Even women stared at her.

  Rachel waited until the man moved on and took the seat next to her sister.

  “Are you going to make the dinner party tonight? Mother will be livid if you don’t.” Celeste waved her hand, and a waiter arrived with two cups of steaming tea and a plate of biscuits.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to tell mother I won’t be there. I have two patients in the infirmary and can’t possibly attend dinner.” And she didn’t want to attend. She hated her mother’s social gatherings. She hated the gossip that always seemed to flow, and since her break up with William she seemed to be the usual subject.

  “You’re away from them now. Surely, you can be away for a few hours tonight.” Celeste raised her tea cup and sipped.

  “I was on my way back from Dr. Runkle’s. I needed his opinion on one of the patients.” She picked up a biscuit and nibbled. It had a spicy sweet flavor. She shouldn’t be lolling here with her sister. “I need to remain at the school night and day for a few more days. At least until I figure out what’s causing a rash on Sylvie.”

  Celeste’s glazed-over eyes indicated her boredom hearing about Rachel’s trials as a doctor at the school. Celeste and her parents only cared about politics. It was too bad women couldn’t vote, no doubt Celeste would have been the first in line. Instead, she and their mother used their wiles to help influence political decisions and sway votes.

  “Thank you for the tea, I really need to hurry back. Give Mother my regrets.” Rachel stood. “And thank her for sending extra clothes yesterday.”

  “She isn’t going to be happy about tonight.” Celeste raised an eyebrow. “You really can’t hide from your social obligations.”

  “I’m not hiding. I have professional obligations to attend to tonight.”

  Celeste shook her head. “Keep telling yourself that and you’ll be a spinster.”

  “I could do worse.” Like be in a marriage with no love.

  Celeste snorted in an unladylike fashion. “Nothing is worse than being alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll have my family, friends, and patients.” Thoughts of the comfort and security she’d experienced in Clay’s arms that morning heated her neck and warmed her cheeks. After the initial shock wore off she’d realized, even with the short amount of sleep she’d had, she’d slept deeper and woken more rested than any night since the accident.

  “But at night you’ll lie in bed alone.”

  “What do you know about having a man in your bed?” She studied her sister. As far as she knew, her sister had yet to bed with a man. Celeste didn’t need to go that far to get a man to do her bidding.

  A sparkle lit Celeste’s eyes. “Only what married friends have said.”

  “Do you have a man in mind for yourself?” Jealousy burned in her chest. Even though no man would marry her it ra
nkled to think her younger sister would soon marry.

  “Not one who gives me the time of day.” Celeste’s usually bright demeanor darkened.

  Ah, so her sister had her sights set on someone who didn’t cater to her charms. This could be interesting to follow.

  “I really need to go. Give my regrets.”

  Rachel strode away from the café, playing the conversation over in her head. Discovering who Celeste had her eye on would almost be worth the discomfort of attending a couple of her mother’s parties. It couldn’t be the man at the café. He’d looked ready to sweep her off her feet.

  Her stomach clenched. Regret washed over her like a dark shroud. She’d never have the satisfaction of being swept off her feet. Few men liked a wife who had career goals. Married women physicians she’d conversed with who had open-minded husbands had mentioned it was unwise to have children since they were in constant contact with diseases that could harm their offspring. This was the one concern about her profession that made it easy to concentrate on her career and forget about marriage and a family.

  The blind school sat on two large lots several blocks from the downtown activity. She walked up the front steps, eager to start questioning Sylvie about her home life.

  Mr. Griffin met her at the door of the building. “Where have you been? Mrs. White was needed to help a female student.”

  “I was consulting with Dr. Runkle about Sylvie.” She pulled off her bonnet. “I’m sure Mr. Halsey could handle Sylvie. He’s quite good with children.”

  “You know the policy. The only time the students are left alone is at night when they’re sleeping.” Mr. Griffin matched her hurried steps to the infirmary.

  She crossed the threshold and smiled. Clay’s voice floated to the outer room. Sylvie must have talked him into telling another fairy tale. How many did he know?

  Rachel dumped her bonnet and gloves on the counter and crossed to the infirmary. Clay leaned against the wall, one arm holding Sylvie’s small body on the cot next to him. The books Donny brought sat on the chair by his bed. The child smiled and nodded, lost in the story.

  Rachel swept her hand toward the two, showing Mr. Griffin he had nothing to fear.

  “Hello, I’m back.”

  Clay finished his sentence and nodded, smiling. “We’d begun to think people forgot we were here.” He leaned his cheek against Sylvie’s blonde curls.

  Rachel’s heart thumped at the sight of the large man so sweetly holding the child.

  “We didn’t forget about you. I need Sylvie to scoot over onto her bed so I can ask her some questions.” She walked to the side of Sylvie’s bed and helped ease the child out of the hard strong arm Rachel knew could cradle gently. Heat crept up her neck as her thoughts roamed to waking in his arms that morning. She glanced briefly to the door hoping Mr. Griffin had left. He hadn’t. Why did he linger and watch?

  Clay wiggled, lowering his body to a flat position. He sighed and closed his eyes. Was he relieved to not have to babysit, or just to change position?

  She walked around the beds to his side and tugged the sheet up to his chin. The urge to lean down and kiss his forehead tugged her body forward, but Mr. Griffin coughed and she pulled back.

  The sound of Clay’s breathing and the steady rhythm of his chest rising and lowering proved he’d fallen asleep. She set the books on the floor and carried the chair around to Sylvie’s side.

  She sat, gathering one of Sylvie’s hands in hers. “Can you speak now?”

  The child placed her free hand over the bandage on her neck and bobbed her head, making Rachel smile.

  “Where does your family live?”

  The child forced a hoarse whisper. “Jacksonville.”

  Rachel glanced at the superintendent. “What can you tell me about your family?”

  “I’ll get her registration form.” Mr. Griffin disappeared out the door.

  A sigh slipped through Rachel’s lips, and her body sagged with relief. Apparently, Mrs. White hadn’t told him about finding her sleeping with Clay.

  “Sylvie, take your time and tell me about your family.” Rachel held the child’s hand and hoped she could learn something valuable.

  “We move around a lot. Pa’s a lumberjack.” Sylvie’s hand relaxed, and she closed her eyes. “There’s me and my two brothers. Ma does wash for the single men.”

  Mrs. Daniels shuffled into the room carrying a tray laden with lunch.

  “I brought your food before the rest arrive in the dining hall for lunch. That way you don’t have to wait so long to be fed.” She patted Sylvie’s head and glanced at Clay.

  Rachel peeked at him. His eyelids eased open, and he stretched his arms lazily. His corded muscles flexed, stretching the flannel sleeve around his upper arm. Her mouth grew dry watching the male action. Shaking her head, she smiled at the cook.

  “Thank you. I’ll get these two started on their lunch.” Her conversation with Sylvie hadn’t enlightened her at all. Mrs. Daniels nodded and shuffled back out the door.

  “Mr. Halsey? Are you awake enough to eat?”

  “Yeah. How long have I been napping?” He put his hands on either side of him, grimaced, and pulled his body to a sitting position. His uninjured leg drew up, his knee making a tent out of the covers.

  “Not very long.” She picked up a cold glass of milk. “Sylvie, would you like your milk first?”

  The child shook her head. “I don’t like it. Mrs. White makes me drink it, but my ma said it made me sick when I was little.”

  Rachel stared at the glass of white liquid. Could this be what was making the child sick? “I’ll tell Mrs. White not to make you drink it, and let’s see if that makes you better.”

  Sylvie nodded and smiled.

  “Here’s your plate.” Rachel set the plate of food in the child’s small hands. “Mashed potatoes are all you get just yet. Chew it real good before you swallow.”

  “I will.” The child touched the bandage around her neck.

  Rachel picked up the tray, stood, and set the tray on the chair. She carried a plate and cup of coffee around to Clay’s bed.

  “Coffee or food?” she asked, grinning at his outstretched hands.

  “Food.”

  She placed the plate in his hands.

  “Same as Sylvie?” he asked.

  “No. Roast at three o’clock, potatoes at six, and bread at nine.” An urge to sit on the edge of the bed started her knees trembling.

  “Go eat, we’ll be fine.” He took a bite of bread and stared forward.

  “Coffee’s on the floor.” Rachel set the cup down and scurried back to Sylvie and her lunch. Her body trembled and her eyes strayed to watch Clay eat. She’d witnessed other men up close, had taken care of many at the hospital at the college and during her year of practice with another doctor. Never before had she experienced the disorientation and stimulation looking at Clay generated.

  One more night. Make sure Sylvie continued to recover, and then she’d tell Mr. Griffin to allow Mr. Smith to sleep in here with Clay. She didn’t trust herself.

  Chapter 12

  Clay scowled and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d been stuck in this infirmary for two weeks, only traveling far enough to use the commode.

  He needed fresh air. Pushing to his feet, he put a hand out to the wall to steady his swaying body. A wave of dizziness made him light-headed. Damn, lying around made a body weak.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The stern yet quizzical question made him smile.

  “I need fresh air. Some sunshine on my face.” Rachel’s citrus scent wafted around him, and her small hands grasped his arm. Ever since the night he held her in his arms, she’d stayed her distance, but they were alone now. She was his only anchor to keep him from toppling over if his legs gave out.

  “You can’t go outside in your drawers. Sit back down and I’ll fetch a pair of your trousers and have Mr. Smith walk you out to a chair in the back lawn.”

  He lowered his body. �
��Will you sit with me?”

  “I have things to do.” Her tone was curt, but her hands lingered on his arm. Her touch and fragrance heated his body.

  “Say yes. You know you want some sunshine, too.”

  “I have bandages to roll.”

  “Bring them outside, I’ll help you. I need a break from reading.”

  “Sit down. I’ll get your trousers and Mr. Smith.” Her scent and steps faded away.

  Mrs. White hadn’t told the superintendent about finding the doctor in his bed, so that wasn’t why she kept her distance.

  She’d left his care at night to Jasper, and Donny hovered during the afternoons, leaving him without a chance to question her about the scar he’d found. Was it red and ugly? Was that really why she worked at a blind school, because her patients couldn’t see the scar? And why she avoided social situations?

  He wanted time alone with her, away from all the prying eyes and ears at the school to really get to know Doctor Rachel Tarkiel.

  Heavy footsteps resonated through the room and the floor vibrated under his feet.

  “That was fast,” he said, reaching his hands out for his britches.

  “Doc says you want to set outside.” Jasper’s deep voice grumbled about three feet in front of him. Rough cloth scraped Clay’s fingertips.

  He grasped the top and slid his feet into the legs, wrestling the pant leg over the hard heavy bandage. Inhaling, he gave his weakened body a moment to rest and his dizziness to settle. He slowly stood, leaning against the wall and pulled the garment up his thighs and secured the waist.

  “Yes, I want to sit out in the bright sunshine and breathe in the fresh air. I’m tired of the lye and whatever it is in this infirmary that makes my lungs ache.” He sat and held out a hand. “Did you bring my boots?”

  “Yeah.”

  His hand slapped against worn leather. He tipped his toes in and tugged the boot over the foot of his uninjured leg.

  “Guess the other foot has to go bare.” He’d fingered the knee to ankle bandage encasing his leg. A boot wouldn’t fit.