Dueling Hearts

by McDonough, Vickie;

  Reed’s admiration for the stubborn, independent woman kept rising. She placed her slaves before herself, worked her fingers to the bone to keep Tanglewood running while also tending an ailing father. “What exactly is wrong with Mr. Zimmer?”

  Betsey lifted one shoulder then dropped it back down. “Don’t rightly know. He took to his bed after a sickness over a year ago and nevah got up again—at least not when nobody is lookin’.”

  Leaning forward on his arms, Reed glanced at Carina again then focused on her maid. “You’re saying he can get out of bed when he wants to?”

  “I’m not sayin’ nuthin’.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head then glanced at the door and leaned toward Reed. “Just that he don’t treat his daughter good. She works from sunup to past dark ever’ day, and he don’t lift a hand to he’p. He just moans and groans, drinks that liquor all day, and pines away for that no-good son of his. Would be better for all if he just up and died.”

  “I should check on him while I’m here.”

  Betsey’s eyes went wide and she waved her hand in the air. “Oh no, sir, he wouldn’t like that none. He hates Bishops even more’n Miz ’Rina.”

  Reed ducked his head, not wanting her to see how her words had wounded him. He didn’t want Carina to hate him. He wanted to be her friend. Please, Lord, soften her heart toward me. Make her willing to let me help her.

  He considered his plan again. Those limbs that hung over the drive were dangerous. If one was to fall when someone was riding under them, a person could get killed or seriously injured. First thing when he returned home, he would set his plan into action.

  Ten

  Carina fought the darkness, searching for the voice that called to her. Where was she? Why was the fog so thick?

  A strip of light appeared in the distance, and she clawed her way toward it, though it pained her eyes fiercely. And her head—the pressure, the pain—was a horse sitting on it?

  “Come on, Carina, wake up.”

  Someone squeezed her hand. The touch felt odd—unfamiliar, but welcomed. Reassuring.

  “That’s it, come on.”

  Now her hand was encased between two big, warm hands, guiding, leading her across the dark abyss to the light. To him.

  She blinked and saw Betsey stand and hurry toward her. Glancing up, she recognized the cracked plaster of her bedroom ceiling—a large, spiderlike web creeping across the ceiling and down the walls. Why was she in bed in the middle of the day? What had happened?

  Lifting her hand, she found the reason for the pressure in her head. A tightly wrapped bandage. “Off. Hurts.”

  A gentle hand pulled hers back. “Sorry, but the bandage needs to stay on for a few days. You’ve had an accident, and you have an inch-long gash that I had to suture.”

  Carina scowled and turned toward the man’s voice. Brilliant blue eyes laced with concern stared down at her. Reed Bishop’s eyes. What was he doing in her room?

  She pushed up in the bed, causing pain to radiate through her head, then clutched her forehead, unable to hold back a groan.

  Mr. Bishop stood. “I’ll give her some laudanum for the pain. Would you mind bringing some more hot water, Betsey? We can mix it with some tea.”

  Nodding, the maid rose and hurried to the doorway. “Etta! Bring up some hot water.”

  “Ow, don’t holler.” Carina squeezed her eyes shut, partly because of the pain and partly so she didn’t have to look at him.

  The doctor picked up her wrist and held on to it. “Good. Your pulse is steady and strong. Tell me how you’re feeling. Is there anything you want?”

  She wanted him to hold her hand again, to coo those soft words of encouragement again, and to tell her everything would be fine. But it wouldn’t. Never. Last night had proven that no matter how hard she worked or what she did, she could never replace her brother. That she could never earn her fader’s approval. How would she find the strength to go on? Maybe it would have been better if she’d never awakened.

  “What’s wrong? Is the pain severe?”

  “Why do you care?” She pulled the light quilt up to her neck. “Why are you here?”

  “Betsey sent for me when you were injured, and I came right away. A head wound is nothing to take lightly.”

  She didn’t want to be beholden to him. She couldn’t pay him for his services. Turning her face to the wall, she spoke what she felt he wanted to hear. “Well, you’ve treated me, so now you’re free to go.”

  “I’m the doctor, Miss Zimmer. I’ll be the one who decides when to take my leave.”

  Inwardly, she was glad that he didn’t back down, but she knew she shouldn’t be. Why would he of all people be the one to comfort her—to make her feel better? She should be angry still, but she was just too tired. She’d lost her will to fight. Her heavy eyelids weighed too much, and she couldn’t resist the pull of sleep. Maybe when she awakened, she would discover this was all a bad dream.

  ❧

  Reed paced the piazza and stared across the front lawn—a weed patch, actually—and down the drive. Clearing all the debris and getting this place looking decent again would take many men and a lot of muscle. He didn’t mind helping a neighbor in need—it was the way of life in the South—but what was one to do when said neighbor didn’t want help?

  A grin tugged at his lips. He was the doctor and could order Miss Zimmer to stay in bed for several days, which she should anyway. If he got together a large enough crew and recruited help from his cousin, just maybe they could get the drive cleared before the obstinate woman found out.

  He contemplated the distance. Would she be able to hear them working? If they started at the entrance near the main road first and worked their way toward the house, they could probably get most of the job done before she caught wind of it. He rapped his palms on the porch railing, liking the idea more and more. Might be a good idea to mention it to Woodson so he didn’t come after them with an ax.

  The door opened, and his mother stepped out. She’d arrived early, right after the breakfast hour, with a basket of fragrant goodies on her arm.

  He nodded to her. “Are you satisfied Miss Zimmer will live?”

  Grinning, she wrapped her arm around his waist. “I never had a doubt, not when she had the care of such a fine doctor.”

  Her praise warmed his heart. Even though her greatest desire was for him to be a planter as his father had been, she still had the grace to encourage him in his dream.

  “I’m not so sure she’ll be able to live down her embarrassment of you being in her room and seeing her in her nightgown though.” She glanced up at him with a stern look. “You didn’t help Betsey get her changed out of her dress, did you?”

  “I’m a doctor, Mother. Things like that don’t affect me.”

  She studied his face. “Don’t be telling me whoppers, son.”

  He grinned and lifted his gaze to see Sammy zigzagging along the side of the barn, chasing butterflies. “I did not help with that. Etta assisted her mother in getting Miss Zimmer into her nightgown.”

  “Well, I’m relieved to know you still have some sense of decency.”

  He enjoyed the playful banter but was glad he’d skirted the truth. Seeing capable Carina lying there bleeding and unconscious had just about been his undoing. Would she despise him all over again because she’d have a scar where he’d stitched her wound? It would have been far worse and taken much longer to heal if he hadn’t sutured the gaping injury.

  “She’ll be fine, son, though her dignity may be fragile for a bit, especially when you’re around. Carina doesn’t like people helping her.”

  “And why is that?”

  She turned to face him and crossed her arms. “She’s had to be strong, independent, all her life. She lost her mother at such a young age and had a younger brother who looked up to her all his life. Her father uprooted them from their home and brought them here. Karl never should have become a planter. His trade was watchmaking, but he had lofty visions of l
eaving Boston to live in a warmer climate and grow crops. Karl never had the fortitude nor the proper knowledge to run a large plantation, and he wasn’t willing to learn from his neighbors when they offered sage advice.”

  “Karl? You know him well enough to refer to him by his first name?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Yes. Your father befriended him when he first moved here. I came with him a few times because I felt sorry for Karl’s motherless children, but I didn’t like how he looked at me when your father’s gaze was occupied elsewhere.”

  Reed narrowed his gaze. The more he heard about Karl Zimmer, the less he liked. “I should check on him, but Betsey doesn’t think he’d be receptive.”

  “It would be a good thing if you tried.”

  He nodded, knowing the doctor in him really gave him no choice. He’d check on both Mr. Zimmer and Abel before leaving today. Sammy gave up chasing butterflies and hunkered down like a bobcat, trailing a yellow cat into the barn. In the paddock on the far side of the barn, Lulu ambled along, stretching her head below the lowest rail in search of grass on the other side.

  “I’ve made a couple of decisions. I plan to buy a good horse and also to hire a carpenter to build a clinic near the road.”

  His mother’s chin lifted slightly. “It’s good you’ve decided what you want to do.” Her words belied what she truly felt.

  “I thought I’d have a bell installed that could be rung to alert me when someone had arrived at the clinic. That way I can be at home when I’m not needed there.”

  Her head jerked toward him, her gaze hopeful. “Does that mean you intend to oversee the plantation, too?”

  After learning of Carina’s sacrifices for her home, how could he do less? He hadn’t considered how much of a burden it must have been for his mother to make all the decisions of the plantation by herself. “Yes, Mama. I’m sorry for not seeing how much of a burden that was on you sooner.”

  She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. Her silence and the way she hugged his arm spoke volumes. For far too long he’d played around and had fun with his friends. It was time he stepped up and became the man of his home.

  But when he thought of his home, it seemed incomplete. Something was missing. His mother hadn’t pressed him, but he knew for certain that she’d been scouring the community in search of just the right woman for him to marry. She would expect him to give her an heir before too long. Was he ready for marriage and fatherhood?

  His thoughts drifted back to Carina. Dared he hope she could ever come to have feelings for him?

  God could work mighty miracles, but he was afraid to believe that even the good Lord could effect such a drastic change in Miss Zimmer’s heart.

  ❧

  For days, a ceaseless pounding had assaulted Carina’s head. Only at night did it lessen. She hated being abed for so long when so many things needed attending, but when she’d tried to rise, her vision blurred and swam around the room. Betsey and Etta had delivered meal after meal and stuffed her like a roasted hen with broth, bread, and porridge for the past three days. Though she rarely ate much at most mealtimes, she was hankering for something more substantial. A thick beef or venison steak sounded more to her liking than broth.

  With her puny breakfast over, she was bound and determined to get out of bed. She sat up, glad that the awful dizziness seemed to have passed. Scooting sideways, she dangled her legs over the side of the bed and waited. When nothing happened, she eased off the side and stood. Her legs trembled from lack of use, and the dull pain in her head intensified. But the pounding she’d heard now sounded as if it were coming from outside. She inched toward the window, hoping her legs wouldn’t give out, and she finally latched onto the frame. Her limbs were more wobbly than a newborn filly’s.

  She peered outside, past the barn, looking for Woodson and Enoch. What could they be doing to make so much noise? As far as she could tell, neither man was working in the field. A loud crack, like an explosion, sounded off to the southwest, and she spun her head in that direction. From her viewpoint, she could only see the part of the drive closest to the house. The noise sounded farther away. Could it be coming from the Bishop plantation?

  She had to know, even if she had to walk across the hall to find out.

  “Jes’ what do you think yo’re doin’, missy?” Betsey stood in the doorway, filling the whole opening. Her chest rose and fell at a frantic pace, as it always did right after she’d climbed the stairs.

  “It’s time I was up. There’s plenty of work that needs doing.” Her talk was bold, but she glanced back at the chair, needing to sit before she collapsed. She didn’t want Betsey to see her weakness.

  “Either you sit down or get back in the bed.” Pushing past Carina, Betsey hurried to the desk, pulled out the chair, then gave her a no-nonsense glare.

  Trying to fool Betsey was a waste of time. She grabbed hold of the chair’s back, while her maid took hold of her other arm and helped her down. “Sometimes I wonder who’s the boss around here.”

  “There’s a new boss around these days.” Grinning, Betsey crossed to the bed and yanked off the sheets. “These could use a good washin’.”

  “I could use a good washing.” Carina grinned. “And what did you mean about there being a new boss? Are you talking about Woodson? Or you?”

  Betsey mumbled something about uppity white folks, but Carina knew she was only teasing. “We’d best get you washed up. Mrs. Bishop, she done told me she’d come back to visit midmornin’.”

  Carina didn’t miss how her maid had avoided her question, but she simply didn’t have the energy to pursue an answer. And Susan was returning. Her first inclination was to decline the visit, but in truth, she had enjoyed her time with Mr. Bishop’s mother yesterday, and she’d even found Susan’s reading of the scriptures a comfort. It was Susan’s son who set her on edge. She glanced down at her hand and rubbed her fingers together. The man she’d attempted to kill had turned around and doctored her, comforted her, and caressed her hand. She’d treated him so horribly, yet one would never have known by the way he’d acted. Was it merely the doctor in him that was able to push aside a personal offense to so meticulously care for the very person who’d inflicted the pain? Or was there more to it?

  Betsey grabbed the pitcher off the commode. “I’ll be back with some hot water, so you just sit there and don’t do nuthin’. If you need somethin’, holler for me or Etta—she be downstairs dustin’.” Turning, she bustled out the door, mumbling something about “that girl” under her breath.

  Carina laid her head back against the chair and concentrated on the look she remembered in Dr. Bishop’s caring gaze. He had seemed worried, as if he truly cared about her. But how could that be possible? Hadn’t he shown the same compassion for Abel?

  She stood and walked back to the window, feeling a bit stronger. Susan had told her how much her son had changed in the time he’d been gone. How becoming a Christian had changed him from a selfish, spoiled boy to a gentle, caring man. Leaning her head against the window frame, she wondered if that was true. Was Susan just a proud mother, overemphasizing her son’s positive traits?

  Betsey’s labored footsteps plodded down the hall in her direction. Could she talk to her about Dr. Bishop? She heaved a sigh. Probably not. Her maid had fallen in love with him the day he splinted Abel’s leg, and now Betsey’s feelings had surely grown like bread dough on a warm day since he’d taken such good care of her.

  Rather than dreading her next encounter with Reed Bishop, she looked forward to it. Was there any hope they might become friends? Was she willing to turn loose of her bitterness to make that happen?

  Even if she did, how could he ever forget how she had treated him?

  And what about Johan? Could it possibly be true her brother had started the duel?

  She shook her head. She didn’t have a prayer of a chance that a Zimmer and a Bishop could ever make peace.

  Eleven

  Reed wiped the sweat from
his eyes. The scene playing out before him made him proud to be a Southerner. He’d put out the call—that Carina Zimmer had been injured—and people from most of the neighboring plantations had either come to help or sent a crew of workers. Along with the dozen men he’d rounded up from Reed Springs, the total numbered more than twenty-five at last count. Saws swished, hoes whacked, and the colored folks serenaded everyone with soul-touching spirituals.

  A bevy of the females, both white and Negro, had set up camp under a huge live oak and a batch of stew was simmering over a campfire. A couple of men had set up tables in the shade for them, and several other ladies were setting out cups of cider and water for the meal. Women who weren’t cooking sat on a blanket talking and sewing. This was more than a chance to help a hurting neighbor; it was an opportunity for community—for friends and even some family—to spend time together.

  The difference they’d made was astounding. Dead limbs had been removed and cut up for firewood, which Enoch had been hauling up to the house. All the vines that had tangled around trees and begun to choke the life out of them were gone, shrubs trimmed or removed. Why, the next time he rode over to Tanglewood, he might accidentally ride right past the entrance because it looked so different.

  Carina needed a sign with her plantation’s name on it, and he could make one. He wondered what she would say when she saw what they had done. Would she be happy—or angry?

  Reed’s cousin caught his eye and waved. Seth pulled a bandanna from his waistband and swiped his face as Reed approached. “Taking a break already?”

  “Already!” Seth gazed up at the sky. “By my calculations, it’s almost quitting time.”

  Reed’s stomach growled, as if in agreement. He gazed past the last of the workers to the final curve in the road. Once they rounded that point, anyone at the house could see them. He was somewhat surprised that Carina hadn’t come stomping down the road with her shotgun, ordering them off her property.

  “What’s wrong? You look nervous.”