The Message in a Bottle Romance Collection

by Joanne Bischof

  “I suppose I ought to speak to him about it.”

  “You mean you haven’t yet?” Mindia asked. “Not even a hint?”

  Abigail shook her head.

  “My dear girl, you’ve allowed him at least three dances at the last several balls, sat beside him as we dined at nearly every function, let him monopolize most of your time. It’s high time you said something or he’ll wonder why you didn’t sooner.”

  Abigail sighed. There was still so much to learn.

  Abigail fluttered her fan, smiling over its rim at Ordell. “Perhaps we might find some respite from the heat on the verandah?”

  It was nearly a scandalous invitation, even though verandahs were hardly the place to find a real retreat. Countless couples sought the spot in search of privacy. But Abigail’s suggestion surely interested him, because Ordell smiled with a look somewhere between astonishment and caution. Then he took her elbow and led the way.

  “I’ve so enjoyed tonight,” Abigail said as they found a place still within the spill of light. She had the feeling there were at least two other couples hidden in the shadows but didn’t care to see anyone in particular. “In fact, I’ve enjoyed so many parties because of your company.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I can certainly say the same.”

  “We’ve been able to talk about things that are important to us, haven’t we? I’m glad you think so highly of my father’s work. He is, in my opinion, one of the greatest men alive.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Oh! I’m so relieved you agree. I haven’t talked about how I’ve enjoyed working at his side, learning to help others.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard from more than one of my flock that you tended to their ills and even set broken bones.” He reached for one of her hands and held it gently. “You’re quite admired, which makes me admire you all the more.”

  “Now I’m doubly relieved,” she said, and her heart did feel cheered at such a perfect start to the subject. “I’ve often thought how a pastor’s work meshes with that of a physician’s. Patients are often in great need of comfort after seeing a doctor. Do you see how the two professions might complement one another?”

  “Do you wish for me to partner with your father and be available to his patients after I have a flock of my own?”

  “No, not at all.” She pulled her hand from his, rubbing at a temple where her pulse had decided to throb. “I haven’t expressed myself well. You see, I wish to keep helping my father, to continue working at his side.”

  He tilted his head, looking at her curiously. “After marriage?”

  “Well, yes. Marriage doesn’t debilitate a woman, after all.”

  He stroked his chin. “How interesting that you wish to spend more time with your father than with any prospective husband. Do you think that’s fitting?”

  “To help others, could it be anything else?”

  “You’re close to your father—I guessed that from the moment you mentioned him. But when a woman leaves her family, she gains one of her own. You’ll have plenty to do in establishing and then taking care of your own home.”

  “Yes, that’s true. But why leave behind all of the work I’ve loved?”

  “Won’t it be enough, tending to your family, helping your husband?”

  “That will be part of daily life, of course.” She rubbed again at her temple.

  “Only part?”

  As promising as the discussion had begun, it seemed to have sailed quickly south. “Perhaps we might think about the topic a little more before we continue? Now that we’ve begun understanding how each of us feel?”

  “Yes,” he said, “that’s the wisest idea of the night. I do care for you, Miss Van de Klerk. So very much. And if I’ve said anything to make you care less for me, I wish to have another chance. Will you do me that honor and let us really talk of this again, after some contemplation?”

  Relief set in. So he wasn’t lost to her, after all. “I’d like that very much. It’s so important to understand each other.”

  “I want nothing more than that.”

  Chapter Eight

  The following afternoon, the heavens banished any showers long enough to encourage Mindia’s hopes of seeing Mr. Goodwin. Abigail drove the Pipperday pony cart, and they’d barely reached the bowling green before Mindia spotted Early. He made no attempt to hide the prearranged nature of their visit by waving and quickly helping Mindia to alight.

  Abigail stayed with the cart as the couple walked off alone down the grassy path, wondering if she would ever be half of such a couple. Ordell would never meet so clandestinely. He must, after all, set an example for others.

  She sighed, suddenly dissatisfied. Being with Mindia had taught her more than just frivolities. Working with Father left Abigail little time for pleasantries, and Mindia was the right tutor for enjoying life. Surely, though, there must be a balance? A little time for adventure, apart from work that was so much more important?

  Ordell’s words replayed in her head. Was he right about marriage, that she ought to be her husband’s helper instead of her father’s? Could she leave medicine to be Ordell’s helper instead? After all, she would still be serving others.

  But her father and men like him—yes, why deny it, she thought of Dr. Tallery among them—were vital to the city. When in the grip of sickness, people took comfort from someone who knew what to expect, a voice of knowledge and solace that alone might aid in healing. And if not, a doctor’s experience brought serenity in the hour of need. Surely that compared to the kind of help she could be to Ordell.

  They’d parted on good terms last night. She expected him to ponder what they’d talked about, just as she’d been doing. If Ordell truly wanted to marry her, he would accept her desire to practice medicine. Surely God had designed her to help heal others; she saw how different she was to those like Mindia who would likely faint at the sight of most of the things Abigail easily handled.

  Whether it was the gathering of more clouds and the prospect of muddy paths or solely their discretion, Mindia and Mr. Goodwin returned to the carriage before Abigail had grown weary of waiting.

  Mr. Goodwin, who had been so eager with eyes only for Mindia upon his appearance, now waved a greeting to Abigail. “How good it is to see you, Miss Van de Klerk! Perhaps I should ask you how my cousin is doing, since I rarely see him.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  One of his brows bent. “It’s only that he spends night and day working at your father’s side, what with all of the fevers they’ve been tending. I thought perhaps you’d seen him.”

  Summer fevers were hardly a rarity, but it did seem troublesome that someone outside the circle of medicine was aware of any particular ailment these days.

  “No, I’ve been staying with Mindia and haven’t seen my father for some time. I suppose now I know why.”

  “Well, don’t say anything to my mother about fevers!” Mindia warned. “Else we’ll be sent straight back up the Hudson to escape the closeness of the city.”

  As he aided Mindia back into the cart, Early kept hold of her hand even after she was seated. His face was far more serious than Abigail had seen it during the galas where he’d been so attentive to Mindia. “Perhaps you should go upriver. It might be best.”

  She laughed, patting his cheek. “And miss the fun of the city? I don’t think so.”

  Nonetheless, he shook his head. “If your parents suggest going, promise me you won’t argue. Please, Mindia?”

  The urgency in his tone warned Abigail this young man whom Mindia obviously cared for—because he was so cheerful and amusing—was resolute. What did he know, even rarely seeing his cousin, that she did not now that she wasn’t living with her father?

  “Only if you go with us,” she whispered, but Abigail had no trouble hearing her.

  It was his turn to laugh. “Oh, that’s likely! Your mother permitting me to be a houseguest? I don’t think so.”

  Mindia’s face took on
new intensity; then her brows rose in outright joy. “I could speak to Father about having you paint my portrait!”

  But Mr. Goodwin shook his head. “He’d be more likely to hire me to paint his favorite mare, if he has one.”

  “Well,” she shrugged, all feminine, “either way is fine with me.”

  They said their farewells, but Abigail barely listened. A fever in the city. Perhaps this was God’s way of telling her she ought to go home.

  Cal roused with a start at the call from the driver sitting atop the hired hack he’d used to bring him home from New York Hospital. In spite of the sun peeking through the clouds, he was grateful to be within walking distance of his very own bed. Cal paid the man then went directly to his room. His cravat was already loose, but he didn’t bother to remove his vest. He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he didn’t sleep, and at the moment he thought he could stay abed for the next twenty-four hours.

  Briefly, he wondered how Dr. Van de Klerk kept up the way he did, between his patients and traveling his circuit. Cal had all he could do just to go back and forth to the hospital these days, where they had recruited him for the duration of the summer fever season. Van de Klerk was unquestionably a hero….

  But as Cal drifted off to much-needed sleep, he refused to care for the man. Or allow the lovely face of his daughter to invade his dreams again.

  Abigail didn’t bother seeking her father’s permission to leave the Pipperdays’. Even if she wanted to ask, when she arrived at her family door late that afternoon, he was nowhere to be found. So when Bromley sent for the footman to retrieve her baggage from the Pipperday carriage that had delivered her, there were no objections. Trunks considerably heavier than they’d been upon being taken out two months ago were placed in her room, and Lizzie set about unpacking her things, new and old alike.

  Abigail dined alone that night, which did not surprise her. She was, in fact, a little relieved to put off the initial meeting with Father until breakfast. He was notoriously chipper in the mornings, so that was the best time of day to speak to him of her plans anyway.

  Abigail arrived in the dining room earlier than their normal eight o’clock breakfast, so she would have the advantage of greeting him as he arrived. But it was she who felt the brunt of surprise when he walked through the threshold a few minutes later. Her energetic, ruddy-faced father looked anything but, and he barely seemed to notice her until she stood to gain his attention.

  “Well, Abigail! What a pleasant surprise.”

  Even his voice sounded strange. “Father? Are you keeping up with your rest? You’ve always told me to do so, especially when the demands are more frequent than usual.”

  He took a seat at the head of the table, at the same time touching her elbow as if that was all he could spare. Evidently a welcoming embrace was too much for him. “Thank you for asking. I am a bit tired this morning. I came in late, but then you probably already know that if you were here. Were you? Or did you arrive at this uncommonly early hour today?”

  “I came last night. You must have been very quiet when you returned, because I didn’t hear a thing.”

  “That’s good,” he said, taking a sip of coffee as if grateful for it.

  “Father,” she said carefully, “I’ve come back to stay. I think you’ll approve, though. I’ve gotten to know a young man who is most agreeable to me.”

  “What’s this, then?” Father asked. “You’ve taken a beau? A serious one?”

  “I’m talking about a young reverend, Ordell Lebsock, serving right here in New York. He’s aware that I want to help tend the sick, and I couldn’t help but think his way of ministering to others will be a natural partnership with the kind of work we do.”

  “Then we must have him here so I may meet him. For dinner. As soon as possible.”

  She patted his forearm, which rested beside his plate. “I do want him to meet you, but there’s no particular hurry.”

  His eyes, rimmed in a deeper shade of pink than normal, gazed at her leisurely. “Are you not smitten enough to be eager for things to progress? As I recall from my own youth, patience and romance don’t often meet.”

  Afraid he might send her back to Mindia’s until satisfied this was the right beau for her, she offered an amused smile. “Mr. Lebsock is, after all, a reverend, Father. We cannot be rushing into anything, can we? In the meantime, I’ve moved back home.”

  He appeared more concerned than pleased. “And you want to work again, at my side, even now?”

  “Yes, of course. I thought that was understood.”

  He paused, neither taking up his fork nor looking at her as he spoke. “I’ve been spending a bit more of my time on my rounds these days, in between regular visits to the hospital. My absence from the office has reduced the number of people visiting here.”

  “That’s all right,” she said. “I’m sure once word gets around that I’m here to help, they’ll return.” Although tempted, she asked nothing of how Dr. Tallery was doing at Father’s side.

  “I welcome your help, Abigail,” Father said, a hint of the old twinkle in his eye. “With midwifery, setting broken bones, extracting teeth and such. But I must ask you one thing: do not think of tagging along on my rounds. Is that clear?”

  “But why ever not? If it isn’t busy here, I’m sure you can use my help.”

  “No, my dear, I must insist. You’re to steer clear of the hospital, too. I mean it. Do you understand?”

  She eyed him closely, convinced he wasn’t telling all. Perhaps Dr. Tallery was enough help on his rounds. Nonetheless, she was certain there was something Father didn’t want her to know, confirming every fear Early Goodwin had inspired.

  Chapter Nine

  By the third day home, Abigail was still treating fewer patients in her father’s medicine room than she could remember. She told herself word simply hadn’t gotten around that she was back, available when her father couldn’t be. She refused to contemplate old insecurities about people not trusting their health to a woman.

  But the city did seem quiet, something she hadn’t noticed at Mindia’s and in the circles she frequented. Perhaps it was only the foul weather keeping everyone indoors or under a shade tree when the sun shone mercilessly between storms. While she was glad there were fewer children with broken arms or legs to be mended and fewer adults in need of a tooth extraction, she couldn’t help but notice crowds on the street in front of their home seemed thinner. Even babies didn’t seem to want to enter the world these days.

  Though she searched the newspapers, there were no reports of fevers. And she hadn’t seen Dr. Tallery once.

  Father was still away more often than home, making her suspect his patients demanded more of him than he ought to allow. Instead of waiting to speak to him that evening, she donned her bonnet and gloves and set out to walk up Broadway to the hospital. She wouldn’t find her father in the city on his rounds, but she might find him there. It was silly for her not to be of some help with whatever kept him so busy.

  The two-storied, H-shaped building was set back from the street. Father didn’t send many of his patients here, preferring to offer whatever treatment he could in the comfort of a home. But some did go to the hospital, and Father often met with other doctors on its staff, as well. When she worked there herself, she was referred to as a nurse, though in practice she handled many tasks entrusted only to doctors.

  As usual, a variety of carriages waited outside. Nearly every window of the building was open, no doubt in hopes of catching a breeze even if it was a hot wind. Inside, the halls were anything but quiet. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, given the peace she’d left behind at home, but it took several minutes to find someone on staff among the unfamiliar influx of visitors.

  “Miss Pasario!” she called after the nurse she knew. She’d worked often with Miss Pasario, who offered only a grim smile in greeting.

  “Ah, Miss Van de Klerk, I’m glad you’ve finally returned to us. You can help, can’t you?”

&n
bsp; “Of course—but I wasn’t called. I simply came looking for my father.”

  Miss Pasario’s eyes—already large on her narrow, olive-skinned face—widened further. “How can you not know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Goodness, Miss Van de Klerk! The city is besieged by fever. Hasn’t your father told you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry to admit it, but no.”

  Miss Pasario put a hand to Abigail’s elbow. “He must want to spare you, because like it or not, this is a nasty outbreak.” Then she leaned closer to whisper into Abigail’s ear. “Some are calling it yellow fever, but don’t repeat it in the company of Dr. Dawson. He doesn’t want to start a panic.”

  Yellow fever! She’d been only fifteen when the great fever had caused the near collapse of Philadelphia, and every time the fever reared its ugly head since then, she hadn’t been the only one to imagine the worst. Although the fever had never risen to the level of ’93 here in New York, who could be certain that it wouldn’t? No wonder the streets were empty! In spite of the lack of official notices in the newspapers, people were no doubt shutting themselves away in terror of catching the deadly disease.

  Nonetheless, she knew what had to be done. She’d treated yellow fever victims in the past and had yet to succumb. She would do so again.

  “Tell me where I’m needed most.”

  And then she went to work.

  “Oh! Doctor!”

  Cal ignored the horrified exclamation coming from the nurse two beds over who must have witnessed what just happened. He knew any hint of fear or revulsion in his reaction would spread throughout the hospital, and that was the last thing he needed. Despite the noxious odor of the black vomit now spattering his jacket, he bent over the exhausted patient and took up the rag sitting on the bedside table. Then he gently wiped away the stream of blood-speckled spittle from the patient’s chin.