Miss Thorne Blossoms

by Jordan Bollinger

  They didn't even get a chance to knock. Eva opened the door and said, "I'll get Miss Meg. She's just putting some things away in the shop."

  "Victoria, Neil," Meg said, as she entered the residence from the workroom, "what brings you two here this time of evening?"

  "I'm sorry," the doctor said, "if it's late. But, we needed to pass this on." She removed a folded scrap of paper from her purse.

  Neil took it from her, unfolded it, and then read it aloud:

  I've received a threatening letter here, at the hotel. Since last week's occurrence, I've decided it's more prudent for me to vacate the field. I'm sure the agency will send in another operative—and that he will somehow reveal himself to you all. I'm sorry I didn't manage to do more.

  "Our villain has once more succeeded," Neil announced, with a frown.

  "Not necessarily," Victoria insisted. "I think he's revealed a bit of himself."

  "How?" Meg asked.

  "He's savvy enough to recognize a potential business rival and effectively eliminated him. And, he had the note delivered to the hotel."

  "I'm going back to the hotel and ask Joe if he remembers who left that note."

  "No," Victoria argued. "Walk me back to the hotel and I'll ask Joe. I always ask if there are any messages for me, so I'll draw no attention to myself. However, I suppose the sheriff will have to ask Joe to refrain from mentioning my interest."

  "I believe Frank already asked both Joe and Ann keep their eyes open, but only speak to him about anything they might consider unusual," Meg told them.

  "All right. Come along," he said, as he held out his arm for the doctor. "I'll see you back to the hotel and then go to the surgery. Although, I might not sleep much tonight. I think I'll keep a lookout for any odd movements on the street. After all, I'd hate for Mr. Raveneau to suffer some accident before he's even able to leave town."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next week, Victoria was in the railway office, picking up a small order of drugs and medicines, when she noticed a very similarly sized package beside hers on the counter, addressed to Brent Harding.

  As she signed for her own parcel, she commented, "Ah, I see Mr. Harding has received another packet of books. Does he really get them every week?"

  "That he does ma'am," Dan Wheeler answered.

  "Is it always packaged so...so securely?"

  "Well, not at first. However, he hadn't been here long before we had an incident."

  "An incident?" she repeated.

  "Yes. Some idiot placed a hogshead of whiskey on top of something else in the baggage car, without securing it. So, of course, it fell off the first time the train stopped. Ended up crushing several parcels."

  "But, surely, Mr. Harding's books were all right."

  "Oh no, ma'am. One of the crushed parcels contained some sticky liquid. It was like someone poured syrup over everything. The railway insurance people ended up paying out a bunch of claims. Ever since then, Mr. Harding's books come in sturdy wooden crates."

  "I see..." Smiling, Victoria picked up her box, thanked Mr. Wheeler, and left.

  She walked back to the surgery in quiet thought. There was something bothering her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Besides, she had a patient waiting for some of the medicine in her package.

  After she'd treated her patient—who was thrilled to be allowed to go home once she had dosed him—she stood in the open surgery doorway. Winter would arrive any day. Any moment.

  The sky had remained gray and filled with heavy, curdled-milk looking clouds for days. Once snow fell, all work on the exterior of her new building would end. Unless they received some sort of reprieve from the impending storm, it wouldn't get finished before spring.

  Every night over their meal at the restaurant, Neil updated her on what had been accomplished that day, and what had to been finished before he would move on to the interior work. So she knew it would be touch and go for all the exterior work to be completed until spring.

  She was still standing in the doorway, when she noticed Mr. Lee scurrying across the street, towards the mercantile. She reflected on the funny little man.

  At first, most of the town found the Oriental manservant an oddity. The idea of someone having a 'manservant,' in itself, was thought strange. He being an Oriental was even more bizarre. Few people in Manchester had actually ever seen an Oriental, let alone met one and interacted with them, before his arrival.

  The townspeople eventually realized he was a dedicated servant and a hard worker. It was even rumored he wanted to help during the scarlet fever outbreak, but his employer had forbidden him.

  What she recently found strange was that although Mr. Lee took things to the woman who did Harding's laundry and picked them up again, did all the shopping, and retrieved the mail, Mr. Harding always picked up his book deliveries. But then, Neil always did say that Harding was strange.

  However, she thought to herself, smiling, perhaps that was because he was merely jealous of the other man.

  She didn't move until she heard a door slamming very hard. It didn't take her very long to discover the source. Meg scurried diagonally across the street, and straight for the doctor's office.

  Within seconds, Victoria stepped back to allow Meg into the surgery. "Meg, are you ill?" she asked. But when Margaret shook her head vehemently, she continued, "Whatever is the matter—"

  "I'll tell you what's the matter! My father!" Then, she collapsed in the nearest chair and began sobbing.

  "Margaret, please try and calm down," the doctor said in a soothing voice. She called to Kit, "Would you make us some tea, please. Miss Meg is...ah...distressed."

  The young girl stepped in from the kitchen, and said, "Certainly, miss." Before she disappeared once again into the kitchen.

  "Now, try and tell me what's wrong, Meg."

  "I told you," Meg insisted, "my father. And, I suppose my brother and sister-in-law, as well."

  "Why?"

  "That blasted letter you had me write."

  "Can you tell me about it?" Victoria asked.

  Margaret responded by thrusting out a letter, before she started crying again.

  October 31, 1888

  North Brookfield, Massachusetts

  Daughter,

  It has taken you almost a year to contact your family again. And is that to ask how we are, or how your niece and nephew are doing? No. It is to once again flaunt your disgraceful behavior to us.

  I can only assume since you are planning on marrying this man that you are now carrying his bastard. However, even our Lord forgave Mary Magdalene's carnal indiscretions.

  So, your brother and I have discussed the situation and decided we shall allow you come back to us. However, there will be no discussion about you keeping the child. We shall find some decent, deserving couple in another town who is willing to take in the proof of your sin.

  Of course, we will need time to locate such a family. Then, we will contact you, in order for us to tell you where and when to meet us. Only after the evidence of your transgression is successfully disposed of, shall you be allowed to show your face in our community once again.

  Once you are returned to the bosom of your family, we will do our best to reclaim your immortal soul. Only after we are convinced you have truly repented for your wicked offenses, we will try and find somewhere we can place you. Somewhere you can both work to redeem yourself, as well as earn your keep.

  Send a telegram when you are ready to leave that city of sin you have resided in for far too long. And, we will telegraph back with instructions about where you are to go and wait for us. But, be assured, that once we meet you, you are to obey us without question.

  Furthermore, as proof of your repentance you are to never be allowed to do any needlework, other than simple mending.

  I remain, your father.

  "Good Lord, Meg," the doctor asked, "is the man insane? How can a so-called father, let alone a minister, treat you so horribly—accuse you of such things?"
>
  "I wish I could say he was crazy," Meg said. "But I can't. He's just an ill-tempered, mean-spirited curmudgeon. And, that was before he moved in with my brother and sister-in-law. I'm sure living with them has done nothing to improve his temper. Or theirs' either, for that matter."

  Kit came in with the tea tray, took one look at the doctor, and returned to the safe haven of her kitchen without being asked.

  "I am so very sorry I insisted on you writing to them, Meg. I don't know how I can ever make this up to you. It's just...I didn't...couldn't understand...how your family...was. Is, I suppose. I just didn't think anyone could be so vehement and cruel...if they weren't actually mentally ill." The doctor poured their tea, and handed Meg her cup and saucer. Then she replaced the letter into its envelope and tossed it to the far side of the table.

  "It's all right," Margaret said, as she fixed her tea. "I didn't have to write it. I could have just torn it up and lied to you about sending it."

  "But, you wouldn't do that. You don't lie. You are a good person," Victoria argued. "Which is why I find that," she said, pointing at the missive, "so offensive and ridiculous."

  "Many people back in North Brookfield told me I was a nice person. As well as nearly everyone here in Manchester." Meg's eyes were filling with water again.

  After several moments of silence, Meg looked over at Victoria and asked, "You won't tell Gus about this, will you? He's already unhappy with the way my family treats—or treated—me."

  The doctor sighed, and finally answered, "At the risk of once again poking my nose where it doesn't belong, I believe you should. God forbid your father contact Gus directly, accusing him of siring your bastard. No, I truly do think you should at least tell him you wrote, and received a less than loving reply."

  "I suppose you're right," Meg groaned. "I don't think he'll be happy I wrote to them at all. He was upset enough when my father lied about remembering anything when Carl Hendriksen sued me. But, he turned purple when he saw that note from last year."

  "Blame it on me. Just tell him I'd insisted on it."

  Finally, a tiny smile spread across Meg's face, and said, "Well, I suppose I could do that."

  *****

  Neil arrived to find Meg and the doctor sipping tea and giggling, so he went upstairs to clean up before dinner. When he returned downstairs, Meg was gone and Victoria was sitting primly at the table, sipping tea.

  "How was Meg?" he asked as he stepped into the kitchen to fetch another cup and saucer.

  Victoria poured his tea before she answered. "She's all right. Now."

  "What does that mean?"

  "She was...was upset about something. But, she's fine now."

  "And that's all you're going to tell me, isn't it?"

  "Yes. It isn't as though you did anything. Now, tell me how did the work go today?"

  Neil sipped on his tea, thinking, until Victoria asked him again, "How much did you get done today?"

  He carefully set his cup down in the saucer, looked across the table at her, and smiled. "We've finished—at least the exterior. Tomorrow we'll install the furnace, so I'll be reasonably warm all winter while I finish off the interior."

  "Really?" Victoria asked him. "You wouldn't tease me, would you?"

  Grinning wider, Neil answered. "Well, as a matter of fact, I would tease you. I do tease you. And, I have no plans of stopping teasing you in the future. Even after...ah...there is a revision of our current relationship. But, no. This time I am not teasing you. The outer structure of the new building is completed, and once the furnace it installed and fired up, I'll begin working on the inside. However, this means you absolutely cannot change anything again. Understand?"

  "Yes," she agreed. And Neil found it endearing how she was practically jumping up and down in her chair.

  She gave him an odd little look, and then asked, "Perhaps the two of us should look through the Sears Catalog at living room and dining room suites." Then she bowed her head, peered at him through her lashes and added, "I wouldn't want to choose something you didn't approve of."

  "You are to just worry about furnishing the surgery and your office for now."

  "I see," was all the doctor said in reply.

  *****

  "Well, that about does it," Gus said, as he crawled out from behind the furnace. "Let's get some wood and fire it up."

  "I hope it at least keeps the chill out," Neil said. "Although, I'm still going to insist we install several small stoves throughout the house." He looked at his friend and asked, "Have you two settled on a date, yet?"

  "No. Meg insists that 'everything' be finished with first. We can't get married soon enough for me. Last night, she admitted she'd sent her father a letter telling him about our plans."

  "And, did he give you his blessings?"

  Gus snorted. "Hardly! The man wrote a scathingly insulting letter back, accusing Margaret of all sorts of awful things. He's one of the reasons I want to get married as soon as possible. I know her, and if he were to send a telegram saying he was ill and needed her, she'd go back east."

  "But, she wouldn't stay, would she?"

  "Of her own accord? No, of course not. But, I wouldn't put anything over on that old bastard. Although, I do believe that her friends, the Matthews, wouldn't allow him to hold her hostage. However, because they would be in the town of North Brookfield and the family is a few towns over, it might take them a while to even find out she's there. Of course, I could always send a telegram of my own."

  "Is the man that bad?" Neil asked. "I mean, Meg is kindness itself."

  "Yes—to both your comments," Gus insisted. "What kind of man, let alone a minister, sells his daughter to pay off a debt?"

  "He didn't..." The look Gus gave him made him ask, "Did he? I heard she'd come to marry a young man she knew..."

  "Yes, she did because her father had borrowed money from the man, and his brother, and couldn't repay it." Gus looked around, leaned closer to Neil, and in a low voice, added, "She was extremely lucky—we were lucky. First, she won the lawsuit, and then Carl Hendriksen died."

  "Miranda's husband?"

  "Yes," Gus answered. "You must swear to keep this between us, Meg and Frank know—but they're the only other ones—Carl Hendriksen was trying to kill Meg when he died."

  "Why?"

  "She realized he'd killed his brother. But we couldn't prove it. Charles was long dead and buried by the time she figured it out." He put his hand on the other man's shoulder, and repeated, "Remember, not a word to anyone. Not even the doctor."

  "All right. I promise. Not a word to anyone. But, doesn't Miranda know?"

  "No," Gus said, shaking his head, "Meg insisted there was no reason for her to know what Carl had done. She thought he'd died trying to save her, and that's how we left it."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "Lunch, gentlemen," Victoria called out as she entered the front door of her new building. She set the basket of food on a makeshift table constructed from some planks across a pair of sawhorses. Instead of setting out food, she walked around the front room.

  Smiling to herself, she breathed in the fresh, new wood smell, and peeked into the room that was to be her office. To her surprise, she found Neil had added a wall of shelves for her medical books. It made the modest room even more perfect!

  When she heard footsteps moving around upstairs, she returned to the front room and set out a still hot pot of coffee and tin mugs. Then she took a large plate of sandwiches wrapped in a tea towel out, as well as a small bottle of milk and jar of sugar.

  At the sound of feet on the stairs, she turned and smiled at Jake and Neil. "I saw the bookcases, and I love them. Thank you!" For just a moment, she considered going over to Neil and hugging him. But, Jake was there, so she resisted the temptation.

  Neil filled the mugs with coffee, and gulped his down. "Oh, that tastes good." He pulled the towel off the sandwiches, grabbed one, and shoved it into his mouth.

  "Neil!" Victoria said, "What is wrong with y
ou? At least give Jake a chance at some food."

  "I poured his coffee," Neil protested. "After that he's on his own." He snatched up another sandwich, laughing.

  "Remind me to check you for tapeworms," the doctor said to him. But, she was grinning as she said it.

  "He doesn't have tapeworms," Jake said, laughing. "He just worked hard this morning."

  "And, you didn't?" she asked, smiling.

  "No, Jake worked hard. We both did. And, just for you, dear doctor."

  "Well, I thank you both." Victoria looked around, and said, "I am getting more and more anxious to move in here. How long will it take for you to finish?"

  Neil looked as if he was just about to answer when there was the sound of steps on the porch and then a sharp rap on the outer door. They looked up to see Mr. Harding and his dog standing in the doorway, apparently, waiting to be invited in.

  Victoria shot Neil a look and then opened the door. "Mr. Harding, how nice to see you. I don't think I've seen you since the weather turned cold."

  "That's because I don't like the cold," he answered. "So I spend my days huddled in front of a warm stove, reading."

  He started to enter, when Victoria put out her hand and said, "You are welcome to come in, but only you. This is, after all, a surgery. So, no animals allowed, I'm afraid."

  "Oh..." he grunted. Then he turned to the mastiff and said, "Sit and stay, Bear!" When he looked back through the doorway, he said, "I don't think you like my dog, Dr. Thorne. Why is that? Don't you like animals?" There was an edge to his voice.

  "I adore animals," Victoria protested. "However, I won't deny that I find Bear intimidating. He's just so big. And, he does drool rather a lot."

  "Yes, I see," Harding said, with a smirk. "That's just why I have him—because he's intimidating. The drooling is an added bonus. It does tend to put people off. Which means they keep their distance from me."