A Nurse for Walter

by Marlene Bierworth

  Feeling much better, she set about to get ready for the day. A thorough scrub with the fragrant soap made her body tingle but lost its benefit after she exerted the energy needed to put on her finest sage-green dress. Thirty minutes later, she plopped herself down in front of the mirror at her desk, which doubled as a dressing table, and wound her bountiful curls on top of her head, allowing some to fall at the back in ringlets. She then hit upon the perfect hat that complimented her outfit and pinned it on top. She sighed deeply, satisfied with the results and realizing her natural born good looks would not aid in ridding her of the men who would sit at her lunch table.

  She closed her eyes and surrendered her future to the Lord, for fighting Him was not a smart move. The eagerness to attend service returned and she stood with a new resolution—it was always easier when she trusted God with her life. He’d brought her this far, and whatever tomorrow may hold; He’d see her life through to the end.

  Downstairs, Molly was fussing with seasoning a roast of beef and placing all the cleaned and pealed vegetables around the mound of meat. Placing the cover on, she smiled. “Done. In the oven you go.”

  She turned to acknowledge Shannon. “After service, feel free to dally and talk to folks. I’ll be rushing home to make the gravy and get the side dishes out of the icebox.”

  “Can I set the table for you, Molly?”

  “Why, that’s right kind of you to offer. The good dishes are in the glass cabinet over there. That piece of furniture was my mother’s and sometimes I sorrow in the fact I have no daughter to pass it down to—sort of makes one feel alone in the world.”

  Shannon went and hugged the woman. “You are not alone. You have Gloria and myself and most likely you’ve adopted half the town. You are quite loveable, and might I add, you are not dead yet nor past the age of bearing a daughter of your own—that is, if you’d stop meddling in my love life and find a man for yourself instead.”

  “Balderdash—the only reason a man would take up with me is for my cooking and my business, and I’ll have none of that. I believe in true love and until it knocks on my door, I’ll be here doing what I’ve always done.”

  “I shall pray for you.”

  Molly pushed her away. “We’ll both be late for church if you don’t get that table set.”

  Gloria came into the kitchen at that moment and pitched in to help Shannon locate all the best china, tablecloth, and centerpiece to make the table as attractive as they both knew Molly’s meal would taste.

  When the three ladies arrived at the quaint church on the outskirts of town, Shannon’s heart was ready to receive whatever this day had in store for her, beginning with the Word of God. Reverend Galloway was a middle-aged man who spoke thunder from the heavens, not in a condemning way but it definitely left one considering their chosen path in life. She saw the wealthy suitor from Kentucky sitting across the aisle parallel to her. He seemed unaffected, like his mind was a million miles away and not the least bit interested in spiritual things. If that were the only thing that disqualified him from her affections, it would be enough.

  Shannon could not help but notice the cowboy, Mason. He was probably the most interactive parishioner in the room. He clapped loudly when the song called for it, and she wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if he’d ended the tune with a rip-roaring shout, yippee—the cry she’d heard cowboys shout when they threw their hats in the ring at the end of a successful bull-ride. Then in contrast, when the preacher’s words lit up his face and the spirit settled over him raising his head heavenward, you could almost envision him communing with the Lord, he seemed so wrapped in an aura of grace. This man had the diversity to keep one lucky woman in love for the rest of her life.

  Then there was Dr. Walter Franssen. According to Molly, he came from a wealthy home but Shannon could not see any of the shackles that bound him to that way of life. He’d arrived late, and sat behind her across the aisle, so she only caught the odd glimpse of him as the service proceeded. He appeared reverent enough, singing the songs and making all the right responses. Although he appeared preoccupied and she wondered if his heart was still at the hospital with his patients. The physician seemed unable to separate himself from the job, and although she understood that dedication to some degree, she did not recommend it as a healthy lifestyle. This was the Lord’s Day and they’d gathered to worship the King of Kings.

  She scolded herself. Who was she to talk? From the moment they’d gathered together, she’d done nothing but survey the responses of others when she ought to be focusing on her own spirituality. Shannon fixed her attention on the front platform and absorbed the encouraging words the reverend was speaking to his congregation.

  After the final chords of the hymn were played, the benediction was given and the congregation began to disperse. Molly disappeared within a few minutes, hurrying in the direction of the boardinghouse to finish preparing the noon-day meal. Gloria introduced Shannon to the townsfolk and by the time they’d made it outside the building, her head was so full of names, she felt sure she’d never remember. She noted that Sherman Stapleton IV was standing off to the side, under the shade of an oak tree. It was an unusually warm day for mid May, and Shannon rather enjoyed Tennessee’s cat and mouse game with cooler fall temperatures; nature’s way of teasing them with signs of the approaching winter season yet hanging on to what was left of summer delight. Judging by the irritation screaming from his features, her father’s choice of husband apparently did not, and stood quietly, scrutinizing her like an eagle ready to pounce on its prey. For the hundredth time, Shannon wished that Molly had not extended the invitation of dinner to him.

  The cowboy and the doctor were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they’d skipped on ahead and Shannon decided it was time for them to skedaddle as well. She poked Gloria who was chatting about Mrs. Placcard’s son who was receiving poor grades at school. “Ladies, I hope you will excuse me. I should hurry home and help Molly get the meal on the table.”

  “It was so nice meeting you, Shannon. I hope you will join us again?” Mrs. Placcard said.

  “I will. The reverend is an excellent speaker and I felt the anointing when he spoke the Word,” Shannon said. “I will indeed be back next week.” She looked at the schoolteacher. “I’ll see you at home.”

  “I’m right behind you,” Gloria said as she tried to wind up her conversation with the concerned mother.

  Not two steps onto the boardwalk that ran along the fronts of the stores, Sherman sidled in beside her. “Good afternoon, Miss Tyre.”

  “Hello again, Mr. Stapleton. Trust you are enjoying our little town.”

  “Little is not my style, as I’m sure your father would agree.”

  “But it is my style, and once again I apologize that he has sent you on this wild goose chase. I have no interest in fitting into his definition of life.”

  “I was hoping to persuade you otherwise,” he said, a trifle cocky in Shannon’s opinion. The arrogant man actually figured he could change her mind over the weekend. His kind never ceased to amaze her.

  “Not today, Mr. Stapleton. I am quite settled in at the boardinghouse and in my job. But I can guarantee that you will enjoy a tasty meal. Molly is an expert cook, worthy of employment in any of the fine establishments you frequent.”

  He grunted and she knew he did not agree that anything of such quality could come from the backwoods town as he had so coarsely defined Maple Grove.

  On the way past Franssen Street, Shannon noticed Walter hurrying down the hospital steps and turn in their direction. When he looked up and spotted her, his steps faltered and slowed. The couple passed by, but she sensed his eyes penetrating her from behind, as she and Sherman advanced up the main road toward the other end of town where Molly waited for her guests to arrive. Feeling ill at ease, she prattled on to the man at her side, and too late realized she’d managed to invoke hope and saw it flicker in his eyes, wrongly assuming he was making headway in his intentions toward her. Shannon buttoned her li
p and ceased talking, hoping her pursed lips undid her slipup. She’d not encourage the man a moment longer.

  When the two-story house came into view, Shannon blew a sigh of relief.

  Inside, she pointed to the formal dining room and excused herself. “I’ll be right in. I just want to freshen up.” That was a boldfaced lie—and right after church. What she needed was to flee to her room and recover her good sense. This was going to be the most difficult meal she’d ever lived through.

  It turned out Dr. Franssen sent his apologies to the boarding house via the guard who kept watch at the hospital. It appeared he had an emergency at the hospital and would not be joining them for lunch. Another boldfaced lie, for she’d seen him heading in this direction and somewhere along the two-blocks, he’d opted to chicken out, or at the very least had second thoughts about dining with his new nurse and her escort that clung to her like a wet shirt. Mason was the comic relief at the table, and Shannon found herself laughing at his jokes and enjoying his stories of cattle drives and life on a working ranch. She caught Sherman yawn a few times and start a side conversation with Gloria about something other than the rough and tumble adventures of the working-class cattleman.

  At the torturous end of the two-hour affair, she walked the Kentucky gent to the door and handed him his hat from off the hook. “Have a good ride home tomorrow, Mr. Stapleton, and implore my father not to send men my way. Nothing personal—I’m simply not interested in becoming anyone’s wife.”

  “Even the entertaining cowboy?” he said in a sardonic tone.

  “He is delightful, and I am pleased to call him my new friend.”

  “Perhaps I was misled by your father. My apologies, Miss Tyre, and I trust you will be happy with your choices.”

  Mason moseyed on out of the dining room, his long legs taking huge strides in closing the gap. He reached for his hat. “Right nice getting better acquainted with you, Miss Tyre. I’m probably way out of your class, but it sure felt good just to share a meal with you.”

  Shannon reached for his hand. “Do we categorize people in Maple Grove? I surely hope not, and like I told Mr. Stapleton; I am thrilled to call you friend.”

  “Nice of you to say, miss. Sort of hoped for something more but I see my competition is pretty stiff.” He crooked his head and spoke to Sherman Stapleton who continued to linger by the entrance. “I’ll keep you company down the street. Left my horse at the livery this morning.”

  The good-natured man did not appear to notice the look of disdain the Kentuckian cast him. Shannon was quick to say, “You take care of yourself next week while out there rounding up strays in the backwoods of Tennessee.” She emphasized the phrase loud and clear so Sherman Stapleton would hear.”

  “Always do. See you next Sunday at church,” he said as he flung open the door and beckoned Sherman to go out ahead of him.

  Shannon placed her back against the door and shut it firmly. She looked at Molly and Gloria and all three ladies burst out laughing at the same time.

  “That was fun, Molly,” Shannon said, showing little enthusiasm. “Give me a heads-up next time and I’ll dine elsewhere.”

  “I had fun,” Gloria said. “It was like horror, comedy, and drama all mixed into one.”

  “I found it amusing and heartbreaking at the same time because the one man I wanted to come never showed,” Molly said.

  “Which brings me to my next mission.” Shannon glanced out the front window and saw the two men had progressed a good distance down the street. “I’m going to the hospital to confront the coward.”

  “He had an emergency, that’s not cowardice,” Gloria said.

  “The messenger said he did, but I’m not swallowing it. I saw him leave the hospital and head this way. He spotted me with Mr. Stapleton and slinked away like a defeated puppy.”

  Molly’s face lit up. “Then you admit the doctor has taken an interest in his new nurse?”

  “I admit nothing, because none of it matters. Nursing is my life and any man who tries to quench that dream will find himself on the outs with me. I am not interested in cow-towing to an egotistical man who wants me to bear children, cook, sew and clean his house. It is not happening, ladies.”

  “Mm, and that’s why you feel the need to go and ream the doctor out for not coming to dinner?” Gloria asked. “Sounds fishy to me.”

  Shannon calmed her voice. “Well, if there was a real emergency, Dr. Franssen might appreciate me showing up to help.”

  When both ladies raised their brows, Shannon went to her room, grabbed her purse, deliberately avoiding the mirror so as not to admit she cared about her appearance, and left the house without another word spoken. She wondered what compelled her to take this action—her head screamed stay home while her heart thundered on to settle the issue one way or the other.

  With one solitary purpose boring a hole in her reserves, she marched the couple blocks to Franssen Street, covering the short distance to the main doors of the hospital in record time, barreled through into the foyer, then up the inside steps that led to the administrator’s office. She was out of breath when she stopped outside his door. She would have to knock and be civil until she uncovered the real reason for his absence at dinner. Shannon hadn’t realized the extent that he’d disappointed her, until now. As much as she hated to admit it, this man had gotten under her skin, and she hated herself for it.

  All notions of courtesy escaped her when she spotted the man jumping from his cot in response to her brief knock and barge-in approach.

  “Mr. Franssen,” she began avoiding the label of doctor. “Would you mind explaining your absence at the boardinghouse for the noon-day meal? And don’t try the emergency excuse. I won’t believe it.”

  “That’s a shame, because my sister is dead and I’m done in.”

  Chapter 8

  If Shannon could crawl in a hole and bury herself, she would have done it. How utterly foolish she’d behaved to her boss and friend; she despaired to think that when it all registered in Walter Franssen’s mind, she’d most likely suffer the loss of their newly established relationship. She had jeopardized it all by her blunt accusation.

  She lifted her shame-filled eyes to see Walter collapse back onto the cot and bury his head in his hands. “I intentionally stayed in Maple Grove to keep an eye on her, thinking her lousy husband might return to finish her off, never imagining she was her own worst enemy. In reality, I lost her two years ago when she ran away from home and have come to the rescue too late to save her.”

  “What happened?” Shannon asked, confused by his words.

  “She must have had a stash of that poison in her bag; we never looked. This morning when I left for church, she was still asleep and I told the nurse to let her rest. When I popped in afterward, she was still out and that’s when I found out she’d overdosed on the weed and killed herself. Why would she do that?”

  Shannon sat on the cot beside him and took his shaking hands in hers. “I only had one chat with Anna where she really opened up. It’s amazing how another person can rob you of everything you are on the inside. She felt she wasn’t strong enough to go to her father and face his criticism and, of course, she dreaded the idea of returning to her husband. I tried to encourage her, and even faulted the drug for her sense of helplessness, but she continued to blame herself.” Shannon squeezed his hands. “Anna claimed she felt safe here, that you were a good big brother. I really thought we had time to cure her, never once imagining she’d take her own life—I’d have surely told you how depressed she was if that was the case. You do believe me, don’t you?”

  “I believe you.” He held her gaze as he studied her. “In fact, the first person I thought of was you, how I needed to tell you she was gone.” He ran his hand through his hair breaking the contact between them. “I was so sure I needed you to hold me and tell me it would be all right. That sounds so absurd when voiced aloud.”

  “I could hold you now,” Shannon offered.

  “That won’t b
e necessary,” he said dragging himself to his feet. “I saw you and the uptown gentleman walking home together after church. He’s more your type and I decided to bow out of the running and mourn alone.”

  Shannon bounced to her feet and gripped his arm. “You’re not thinking straight. Before yesterday I had no idea, anyone was in the running for my affections, let alone a delightful cowboy that anyone couldn’t help but like, and a southern gentleman that my father sent here to knock sense into my independent streak and drag me home as his bride. You see, I do know a little of what compelled your sister to run away from home.”

  “She made all the wrong choices,” Walter said. “At least you made something of yourself and kept your head on straight.”

  “I’m afraid my strong sense of duty is wavering and my declaration to spinsterhood is fast becoming a fleeting shadow, and I have you, dear sir, to thank for that.” Walter appeared confused. Shannon continued to rant non-stop, reinforcing the sudden agreement that had finally settled the battle between her intellect and her heart. The chatter sprouted from a deep chasm in the pit of her stomach, fearful that if it wasn’t confessed now, she never would find the nerve again. “Walter,” she said, deliberately using his Christian name as opposed to the professional title of Dr. Franssen, in order to pigeonhole the nature of the intimate emotions erupting within her. “All throughout the meal with two men fighting for my attention, all I could think about was the man who did not show his face. I saw you come out of the hospital, felt your accusing eyes on my back, and then I heard your man present your emergency excuse. I hope you can understand my confusion, but it gave me no right to accuse you of lying. I apologize.”