Honor Redeemed

by Christine Johnson

“You may walk ahead of me if you wish, but I must go to the hospital this morning.”

  Her curiosity piqued. “You have a meeting with Dr. MacNees?”

  “Have you heard of the sorry business aboard the Philadelphia?”

  “Cholera, right? I heard Dr. MacNees was not pleased the city refused to allow the ill to be brought ashore.” Dread shivered down her spine. “You’re going to help? Are you going out to the ship? Or are the sick being brought to the hospital?”

  “Neither. The ship carries a surgeon. Dr. MacNees is joining the mayor to examine those passengers put off on Sand Key.”

  “Those not infected.” She had wondered at that drastic measure, which was doubtless done to remove the healthy from infection. But the conditions could not be pleasant since Sand Key had no shelter beyond the lighthouse, which could not possibly house all those set ashore there. “Is he looking to see if the contagion has spread?”

  “Very perceptive, Miss Jones. In his absence, he has asked me to oversee the hospital.”

  “He has?”

  “Don’t seem so surprised.” But a smile threatened to break his artificially stern expression. “Without an assistant, he has little choice but to turn to a local physician. It will be a brief tenure, however. I expect him to return by nightfall.”

  “Very brief indeed.” But still fraught with danger. “I do think it best if I go on ahead.”

  He swept his hand forward. “As you wish.”

  If their connection that day had ended with the morning conversation, nothing might have come from the chance occurrence, but by ten o’clock, Miss Stern appeared at the laundry. Cook was taking a break to chat with Gracie. At Miss Stern’s appearance, the cook pretended she was fetching clean table linens.

  Miss Stern ignored the cook and focused on Prosperity. “The doctor requests your presence, Miss Jones.” By her expression it was perfectly clear that she did not approve.

  Prosperity lifted the mangle and pulled the sheet from it. “Do you know why?”

  “It is not our place to question a physician’s orders. You had best remember that. Now put on a clean apron and follow me upstairs.”

  Upstairs. That meant the wards or the dining room or even the surgeon’s office. Prosperity’s hands trembled as she untied the knot behind her back and slipped into a starched white apron.

  “Hurry, hurry,” Miss Stern urged.

  Prosperity rushed after her while tying the apron strings. Even so she could not miss the sneer that twisted the cook’s expression. Tales would be spread, but Prosperity could not dwell on what she could not change.

  “Do you know what he wants?” she dared to ask.

  Miss Stern harrumphed. “To assist him, he says.”

  Prosperity gasped.

  Miss Stern halted. “Let me warn you, Miss Jones, that one misstep will cost you dearly. Listen carefully and obey orders to the letter, but do not make one step beyond what is necessary. Do you understand?”

  By now her pulse was racing. She nodded, though she had no idea how she could counter the friendly banter Dr. Goodenow was certain to employ.

  They arrived at a supply closet, and Miss Stern unlocked the door. She then handed Prosperity a metal tray filled with bandages, instruments, and small bottles of medicine. “Take this to the first ward. The doctor is already there.”

  Prosperity’s hands shook, and the metal instruments rattled against the tray.

  “Don’t stand there gawking,” Miss Stern said tartly. “Go.”

  Prosperity did not want to enter the wards. She didn’t fear illness or even the seamen suffering there. She feared the repercussions. Hadn’t she made it clear to Dr. Goodenow that they must have no contact in or near the hospital? Yet he’d breached every rule by asking her to assist him. Her stomach knotted as she walked down the corridor.

  The ward was far from full. Two men occupied the beds closest to the door.

  Dr. Goodenow looked up from tending to one of the patients. “Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if the matron would refuse to let you leave the laundry.”

  Prosperity edged into the room. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

  “Come here. I need one of the medicines on your tray.”

  “Yes, sir.” She tried to hold the tray steady, but the instruments and vials rattled with every step.

  He smiled when she stopped beside him. “You may breathe now.”

  She let out her breath. “Yes, sir.” She wanted to ask why he had sent for her, why take such a huge risk, but Miss Stern had made it clear she was only to obey directives and answer direct questions.

  Dr. Goodenow picked up one of the bottles and measured out a small quantity. “Tincture of rhubarb will help ease dyspepsia and restore the bowels.”

  Prosperity knew she ought to pay attention, but she could not concentrate more than a few seconds. Entering the ward had recalled the painful memory of David’s wife lying amid bloodied sheets.

  “. . . often used in dysentery and the latter stages of cholera. Miss Jones?”

  Prosperity pulled her thoughts back to the present. “Forgive me. What do you need?”

  “I was explaining the properties of the medicine. Didn’t you ask to learn this?”

  Her cheeks heated. Was that why he’d called for her? Oh, careless tongue. She regretted ever speaking her mind. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

  Dr. Goodenow eyed her a long moment. “I am the one who is sorry. I’ve asked too much.” He guided her out of the ward. “I will speak with Miss Stern.”

  Her hands shook so badly that he took the tray from her and handed it to a passing orderly, who gave Prosperity a knowing grin before going into the ward as directed. Oh dear, the gossip would spread terribly.

  “Please understand that I meant no harm,” Dr. Goodenow whispered.

  His nearness made things even worse. She avoided his gaze. “I should return to the laundry, sir.”

  “You deserve better.”

  In other circumstances, that statement would have delighted her, but she could not shake the fear. If she lost her position, she would have no money to let a room. Elizabeth would insist she stay, but Prosperity could not accept charity. Her lip quivered.

  “Don’t be afraid.” Thankfully he did not reach for her. “Dr. MacNees did approve of this and will tell Miss Stern when he returns. That should smooth things over.”

  The knot in her stomach began to unravel.

  Dr. Goodenow lingered a moment longer. “Forgive me, Miss Jones, but if the officials allow the passengers from the Philadelphia to enter Key West tomorrow, as I suspect they will, I may not have another opportunity to ask you to join me at tea this coming Saturday afternoon.”

  Though the corridor was hot, it could not account for her discomfort. “I’m not certain . . .”

  “It is a social, Miss Jones. A benefit for the temperance league.”

  If only she didn’t have this Saturday off. Instead she must find a kind way to refuse. “I don’t know if it would be wise.”

  “Your friend Mrs. O’Malley will be attending. It is to be held at the Cunninghams’ house.”

  With Elizabeth in attendance, the event would be above reproach, and she was curious to see where the Cunninghams lived. Mrs. Cunningham had talked extensively of her porcelain vase collection from the Far East.

  Down the corridor, Miss Stern tapped her toe, watching every moment of their interaction. Already the woman disapproved of her friendship with the doctor. If this conversation continued—and Dr. Goodenow would not rest until she agreed—Miss Stern might seek dismissal.

  “Very well then. I accept.”

  Dr. Goodenow smiled. “I shall look forward to it. Expect me to call on you at three o’clock.”

  “I will walk with Mrs. O’Malley.” That was safest.

  “We shall walk together then.”

  If she had the tiniest feelings for him, her heart should have tumbled at his insistence, but she felt nothing. Perhaps in time her affection for him would
grow, but not yet, not until she broke free from the past.

  David dreaded the social, but Colonel Stormant had required every officer’s attendance. Mourning carried little weight with the colonel. A black armband marked David’s status, but Ambleton had already warned him to expect a goodly share of feminine attention. He left the baby with Mrs. Walters, whom he’d hired to replace Gracie, and arrived with the other officers in his stifling wool dress coat.

  Perspiration dotted his brow, and not just from the heat. He had not attended many socials before joining the army. His father considered such functions the breeding ground of gossip. This afternoon many ladies graced the parlor, veranda, and expansive garden. Light fabrics turned billowing skirts into frothy confections. Though most necklines were modest, the heat prompted many ladies to wear shorter sleeves than would be considered proper back home.

  The other officers had been swept away by some acquaintance or other, highlighting the seclusion David had put himself in since arriving on the island. Work consumed his days. Solving each unforeseen issue with the construction gave life meaning. His only foray into society had resulted in destruction. He was not eager to dip a toe into that pool again.

  He glanced around the room, looking for a familiar face. Shy girls and hopeful ladies caught his gaze for a moment before darting away. Their mothers didn’t bother to hide their disapproval, leaning close to their charges to impart some words of wisdom. David could imagine what they were saying. It was not kind, for eyes widened and then those same young ladies whispered to their friends behind their fans. After another quick glance, they settled their attention on one of his compatriots.

  No mistake about it. This tea might be billed as charitable, but its real aim was to match young ladies with eligible young men. At best, he’d been deemed ineligible. At worst, the matrons viewed him as scandalous. Finding another wife—at least one of quality—would be nearly impossible.

  “Come this way, Lieutenant.” Captain Dutton appeared at his left elbow and drew him toward the garden where another segment of Key West society mingled.

  This was a decidedly older grouping without the hysteria of the marriage mart. Matrons sipped tea while relaxing in lavish chairs that probably belonged in the parlor. Gentlemen in ivory-colored suits congregated to the side, telling tales and negotiating deals.

  Captain Dutton tapped him on the shoulder. “The mayor is asking about progress at the fort. You can provide the detail he wants.”

  The captain must have already endured a barrage of questions if he’d resorted to sending in an assistant. The afternoon just got more arduous.

  Dutton mustered a grave smile. “You know how best to handle, er . . . indelicate questions.”

  David wasn’t at all certain what his commanding officer meant, but now was no time to ask. The mayor stepped forward, waving his hand and calling out Captain Dutton’s name. David walked slightly behind the captain, who would make introductions. Though he tried to focus on the mayor, his eye was drawn to a small group seated beyond the man.

  He drew in his breath.

  Dr. Goodenow was seated between a lovely woman with golden hair and another who far outshone her in spite of the plain gray dress and unadorned bonnet. Prosperity.

  Every ounce of strength seeped away.

  She was listening intently to the doctor, her lips slightly parted as if the man’s words amazed her. Compassion shone from her brighter than the lighthouse’s lantern. Her every move revealed grace greater than a queen.

  David tried to speak her name, but his voice stuck in his chest. He tried to move to her, but his feet did not budge.

  Then God had pity on him. Perhaps it was the twitter of a bird or the flutter of a butterfly, but whatever captured her attention, he silently blessed it, for her head tilted upward, and she looked straight at him.

  15

  David.” His name escaped Prosperity’s lips in a whisper.

  She smoothed the skirts of her dove-gray gown, which she had donned simply because she could not bear the black mourning gown in the day’s heat. Her hands trembled, but she could not look away from him. She had both longed for and feared seeing him from the moment the first army officer arrived this afternoon. With Elizabeth and Dr. Goodenow surrounding her, she’d felt safe, but that sense of security vanished the moment she saw him.

  David. Every hope had been tied to him, and every tie had been ripped from her grasp. He stood beside his superior officer, silent, the black armband marking his grief. The captain motioned to David from time to time during his discussion with Mayor Carmody and Captain O’Malley, yet David’s gaze kept drifting toward her.

  Such longing and regret and suffering shone from behind his too-stiff countenance. He had lost a wife and discovered her infidelity mere days apart. Though he stood a few feet from Prosperity, he had retreated within himself.

  Her feet stirred, instinctively urging her to go to him.

  Dr. Goodenow lightly touched her sleeve. “You need not acknowledge him.”

  Her nerves jangled, caught between the kindness of one man and her longing for the other. “I must.” David needed her.

  The doctor turned to Elizabeth. “Please tell her to act sensibly, Mrs. O’Malley.”

  Elizabeth glanced at her and then the doctor as a gentle smile graced her lips. “I have never known Prosperity to act anything but sensibly.”

  The comment was meant as an affirmation that she would choose the proper path, but Prosperity felt a deeper truth, one that Elizabeth could not have known. A lifetime of sensible choices had ended with her voyage to Key West.

  She rose, letting the doctor’s caution fall behind her. Two short strides brought her near. “Lieutenant.”

  Something flickered in his eyes before he bowed stiffly. “Miss Jones.”

  Her fickle heart buoyed with that flicker, willing it to be hope for their future, all the while knowing that nothing could wipe away the mistakes of the past.

  He nodded, and his gaze darted toward the garden paths. “Would you care for a stroll?”

  The way he could not hold her gaze disconcerted her. She hesitated.

  He offered his arm, still without any outward sign of affection.

  She had hoped too much and too soon. The doctor was right. She need not speak to David. The dictates of propriety gave her an excuse. She could simply offer her condolences and return to the comparative safety of her friends, but that would not quench the irrational longing that consumed her days. Perhaps one last conversation would put an end to it.

  “Miss Jones.” The doctor must have risen behind her. “If you would like to see the grounds, I would willingly escort you. There are many plants here with medicinal qualities.”

  She looked back at him, surprised at the pang of curiosity that rose in her. The doctor treated her with greater respect than any other man, yet this one time she must decline.

  “I will return shortly,” she said. “Then perhaps you might explain more about the plants.”

  She placed her hand on David’s arm, and awareness shot through her like lightning. He trembled. Did he feel it too? If so, he said nothing.

  As they walked, that once-familiar scent of soap and sea revived the David of her youth, brimming with strength, honor, and unwavering seriousness. The old desire to tease him into a smile returned.

  “Are you emulating your fort with that straight back?”

  His glance betrayed confusion. “An officer must display proper composure.”

  She stifled the urge to smile. “Especially an army engineer.”

  “All officers, regardless of rank or position.”

  She couldn’t hold back any longer. “Oh David, don’t you recognize my teasing anymore?”

  Like before, many emotions crossed his face, but today she could not ignore the underlying sorrow that hollowed his cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Jesting is not appropriate, not now.”

  His throat bobbed behind the rigid collar. “I
don’t mind. It reminds me of how things used to be.”

  Used to. The past. How foolish she’d been to think she could recapture it.

  They turned back toward the main gathering, and she spotted several women quickly look away. Their promenade had not gone unnoticed. Whispers and rumors would form. Gossip would flow. Mrs. Cunningham’s pointed frown made it perfectly clear what she thought. Prosperity should not have indulged her whim. David was not yet three weeks into mourning. To walk with any woman so soon after his wife’s death naturally invited speculation, especially since he had a son.

  His son. Yet not his.

  Gracie had nursed the baby a little over a week before he dismissed her. Why?

  Prosperity glanced at David, who stared straight ahead, his jaw working as if he struggled to find something to say.

  “Your son,” she began.

  “He is not mine.”

  The coldness with which he spoke drove a spike through her. That poor baby needed love, but David would not give it. “He is your son in the eyes of the law.”

  “Don’t lecture me like your doctor friend.”

  The sting of his words shattered her illusion that they could resume where they’d left off two years ago. She’d been holding on to a cord that led nowhere. It was time to let go.

  She released his arm. “I wish to return to those friends.”

  “Prosperity—”

  “Miss Jones, please. The time for familiarity is over.”

  His countenance paled. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean—”

  She could not listen to excuses. “Goodbye, Lieutenant. I wish you well.”

  He sucked in his breath.

  She left, dropping the cord that had once connected them. Let the winds carry it away.

  That had gone as badly as David could have imagined. He had let anger at Aileen and jealousy of the doctor drive a wedge between Prosperity and him. She had approached him and walked with him against the doctor’s advice. She didn’t seem to see it, but the man was clearly enamored with her. David had not counted on competition. He also had not counted on the depth of her compassion for Aileen’s child.