The California Wife

by Kristen Harnisch

  Donnelly eyeballed the doorway before his gaze came to rest intently on Marie. He lowered his voice. “Because you have the smallest hands, and you were the most suitable choice at that moment.” With that he excused himself from the table, pastry and coffee in hand, and headed for the door. Before leaving, he turned, looked at his pocket watch and announced, “Five minutes, Miss Chevreau.” Marie gobbled down her breakfast, piled their plates in the sink and rushed to the powder room.

  She finished her presentation of Adler’s case without divulging that she’d been the one to hold his heart in her hand. Though Marie was disappointed that her name could not appear in the final record of the surgery, she thrilled in the knowledge that Donnelly had placed his confidence in her.

  The following week proved less exhausting than the first. By the time Friday arrived, ten days had passed since Tom Adler’s heart surgery and the incisions showed no signs of infection. He’d even taken his first slow steps around the second floor, holding tightly to the railing that surrounded the stairwell. Adler was in high spirits, waving to his fellow patients and pausing to flirt with the nurses. Marie was surprised; the man had been described as a loner, but he was behaving as if he did indeed have a new lease on life. Although she’d probably only ever tell Sara, Philippe and Adeline, she was pleased to have played a small part in Adler’s recovery. She was disappointed that her rotation at the boarding house was ending. These two weeks had been the most exciting of her life.

  When she walked out the boarding house door on her final day, there was no one in the foyer, no one to wish her luck. All the nurses had scattered, tending to their patients, and Donnelly was nowhere to be found. Marie trailed behind the Beaver, the Frog and Redman, who’d hailed hackneys to deliver them home. She made her way up the steep street toward the cable car, dragging her small suitcase for the weekend. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a beep-beep behind her. Marie whirled around to see a shiny black car pull up to the curb. She still found it odd to see a vehicle with no horse. Matthew Donnelly sat behind the wheel of the sporty runabout, with a grin on his face.

  “Get in,” he called as he stepped out, took Marie’s bag from her hands, and secured it in the small trunk of the car next to another case. He offered his hand, but Marie just stared at him.

  “You’re going to the Ferry Building, aren’t you?” Marie nodded, her forehead creased in disbelief. “Me, too. Get in,” he ordered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to catch a ride with her professor. Unsure of how to decline politely, she slid onto the red leather seat.

  Marie held on to her hat as they charged down California Street, dodging horse-drawn carriages, cable cars and omnibuses. She found herself gripping the armrest and laughing out loud—the sensation felt like flying through the air on a rope swing. When they arrived, less than ten minutes later, Marie was windblown and short of breath.

  “Great fun, isn’t it?” Donnelly’s eyes watered, and his nose was pink from the crisp winter air. Without the white coat, and with his disheveled hair, he seemed almost mortal.

  “Yes,” Marie agreed.

  She dangled a leg out the side of the car, preparing to jump down, when Donnelly placed a hand on her arm. “Please wait. The descent is trickier than it looks.” He came to her side to help her down. When he unloaded their cases and carried them up to the ticket window, Marie realized she didn’t want to say goodbye. She followed him, waiting to see what would happen next.

  When it was their turn at the ticket window, he stood aside, allowing Marie to step up first. “Round trip to Vallejo, returning Sunday,” she said, sliding two dollars in change over to the ticket agent.

  Donnelly, too tall to look the man in the eye, crouched down to speak through the glass. “Same, sir.”

  Marie was surprised. Why would he travel to Vallejo? Was he visiting the military hospital there? Before she could ask, he picked up her bag and walked toward the ferryboat. “So, are you staying in Vallejo, Miss Chevreau?” he called out.

  Marie quickened her pace to keep up with his long stride. “Ah, no. I’m taking the train to Napa Junction, where a friend is picking me up.” She paused, worried that she’d given him too much information. Would he think she was meeting the fictional lover? “They’re like family,” she clarified.

  “Excellent,” he replied enthusiastically. “Family support is important when you’re trying to advance through medical school.” His smile was so genuine that Marie’s stomach somersaulted. “A short break from those tedious professors,” he teased.

  Marie laughed. “Yes, they can drone on. And where are you headed?”

  “One stop north of the junction—Napa Depot. I’m staying at a hotel in the city.”

  She didn’t want to pry, but she had taken an interest now. “Do you have a patient there?”

  “On the weekend? Heavens, no.”

  “So you’re visiting friends?” Marie persisted.

  “Family.” He wagged a finger. “You’re a bit nosy, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe”—Marie shrugged—“but I wouldn’t make a very good surgeon if I wasn’t.”

  Donnelly chuckled. “Fair enough, Miss Chevreau.” He stopped at the gangplank. “After you.”

  Marie thought they’d part ways aboard the ferry, but he stayed by her side. The fifty-minute journey passed quickly. He shared stories of surgical triumphs and disasters, and she countered with tales of her most harrowing births. He engaged completely with her, asking questions and offering his own ideas for surgical solutions. The professional barrier that separated professor from student seemed to vanish, and they leaned on the railing, elbow to elbow, chatting like old friends.

  As they neared Vallejo, he pointed to Mare Island. “Do you know General Vallejo actually named the island himself? When he was moving his livestock across the San Pablo Bay, a strong wind capsized the vessel. His prize white mare swam ashore and was found alone on the island. After he recovered the horse, he dubbed the land Isla de la Yegua, or Island of the Mare.”

  They spent another hour together during the train ride to Napa Junction, but Marie could have listened to Donnelly all day. They talked about his brother in St. Helena, and her parents’ tavern in Tours. The train slowed as it approached the station, and Donnelly looked north toward the sprawling farmland and vineyards beyond. “Do you know why they call this Rancho Rincon de los Carneros?”

  “I didn’t know that was its full name.”

  “Indeed. ‘Carneros’ means sheep. Farmers flocked to the area to raise sheep and cattle here, since it’s so fertile.” He added apologetically, “I’m a bit of a history buff, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Do you visit the valley often?”

  “Every month or so, I meet up with my brother and sister-in-law in Napa City.”

  “Oh.” Marie wanted to ask more, but the train had stopped. She spied Philippe on the platform, his eyes scanning the train windows for her. Donnelly stood up and took her suitcase down from the luggage rack, following her sight line. “Your friend?”

  She couldn’t possibly tell him that Philippe was her daughter’s uncle. “My friend’s husband. They own a vineyard in Carneros,” she explained.

  “Oh,” Donnelly said thoughtfully, “what kind of wine?”

  “Cabernet, chardonnay and zinfandel, too, I think. I’m not much of a wine drinker myself, but Eagle’s Run has an excellent reputation.”

  “Eagle’s Run . . . you know, I believe I’ve tasted it.” A booming voice announced the Napa Junction stop.

  “Let me carry this out for you,” Donnelly insisted, lifting her book-filled suitcase as though it weighed no more than a bowl of cream.

  Marie couldn’t think of anything more awkward than having to introduce Matthew to Philippe, so she held her breath as she stepped off the train onto the wooden platform below. A playful grin tugged on Philippe’s lips as he took in the sight of Marie with this strange man. “Philippe Lemieux, this is Dr. Matthew Donnelly,”
she said offhandedly. “He’s one of my professors, traveling to the city this weekend.”

  “Just Matthew,” Donnelly said, shaking Philippe’s hand.

  “Pleasure,” Philippe said, a strange expression on his face.

  “I’ve got to jump back on, but I hope we meet again,” Donnelly replied. He tipped his hat to Marie. “Miss Chevreau.”

  Philippe couldn’t wait five minutes before he started ribbing Marie about her traveling companion. It turned out he already knew far more about Matthew Donnelly than Marie did. “You really don’t know who he is, do you?”

  “Other than a talented surgeon?”

  “Ah, yes. He’s the youngest son of Rourke Donnelly, the San Francisco iron tycoon. Their foundry is just south of Market.”

  This was impossible. Or was it? Marie recalled Donnelly’s spacious, well-appointed surgery and boarding house, his impeccably tailored clothes and his apparent knowledge of fine wine. She snapped her eyes shut, a pained look on her face. As if things weren’t complicated enough. “Are you certain?”

  Philippe raised his eyebrows. “Yes! I’ve seen his photograph in the Chronicle, and I deliver wine to his brother’s place in St. Helena every month. Rourke Donnelly owns San Francisco Iron Works. He supplies iron for the navy’s cruisers and weapons. He’s used the capital from that business to buy up gasworks, railroads, timberlands and real estate. They’re one of the wealthiest families in San Francisco.”

  Marie felt nauseated. Her mind whirled, reviewing every exchange she’d had with Donnelly. Had he ever dropped the slightest hint? Of course not. “If that’s true, why wouldn’t my classmates have mentioned it? And why wouldn’t he have hired a coach to bring him to Napa?” she asked.

  “Your classmates already know—heck, everybody knows. As for the coach”—Philippe nudged Marie with his shoulder—“perhaps Dr. Donnelly had a compelling reason to take the train.” He snapped the reins, adding cheerfully, “You must have done something to impress him.”

  Chapter 29

  “Maman, wake up!” Adeline set a breakfast tray on Marie’s bedside table in the room they shared.

  Marie rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms. She’d stayed up late last night, talking with Sara. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly seven-thirty! Luc and I have already milked the cows, and Pippa is helping us with the laundry, so if you have any, just give it to me now. Uncle Philippe is pruning the vines and is driving to town around noon.”

  “Well, then,” Marie said happily, “I’d best get my lazy rump out of bed!” Adeline pecked her mother on the cheek. “How was school this week?” Adeline seemed to like the one-room schoolhouse off Buchli Road. There were thirty students, aged five to twelve, and Miss Howell was a stern disciplinarian. She frightened Marie a bit, but Adeline didn’t seem to mind her.

  “Miss Howell is teaching the older students about the systems of the body. We learned about the circulatory system. It’s amazing.” Perhaps Adeline was a kindred spirit after all.

  “You know, you could be a nurse or a doctor when you’re older,” Marie encouraged. “You have just the right mix of brains and compassion.” Adeline beamed. Marie hesitated, but then decided to tell Adeline her secret. “Guess what I did two weeks ago? You can’t tell a soul.”

  “What, Maman?” Adeline whispered, closing the door.

  “I held a human heart in my hand.”

  Adeline sucked in a breath. Her eyes filled with wonder. “A live, beating heart?”

  “Yes, truly. You know I’ve been working in a medical boarding house? Well, a patient came in with a stab wound.”

  Shock registered on Adeline’s face. “Was it awfully bloody?”

  “Yes, but no more bloody than a baby’s birth.” Adeline’s lips formed a small O.

  “The doctor sewed the patient’s heart up while I held it in my palm, and the man’s alive today.” Marie felt a new rush of adrenaline.

  “That’s a miracle, Maman.”

  “A bit of a miracle, yes, but mostly just a daring and highly skilled surgeon.”

  Adeline thought about that for a moment. “Can you imagine being able to save someone’s life like that? He must have special powers, Maman.” Adeline bounced up, heading for the door. Before stepping into the hallway, she whirled around, her soft ponytail swaying, to say, “I’m so glad you’re home, Maman!”

  Marie sat at the kitchen table, books stacked high and papers scattered. If she had to study, she preferred to do it in the company of others, so at least she could pretend she was part of their world for the weekend. Sara stood by the window, bunching small balls of dough in her hands and arranging them in the cast-iron pan. It was four o’clock and they’d already started preparing the evening meal. Sara craned her neck to look outside. “We’d best wash up and change for dinner.” She wiped her hands on her apron and flashed Marie a conspiratorial grin. “Philippe’s brought a guest.”

  Marie leapt up as Donnelly came into view through the windowpane, seated in the wagon next to Philippe. They were chatting as though they’d known each other forever. “What on earth?” Marie was horrified. Obviously Philippe had told Sara all about Donnelly. Why would they meddle in her life like this? She drummed her fingers against her lips. Now she’d have to tell Donnelly about Adeline. She wasn’t ready to share this part of her life with him. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready.

  She gathered her books and hurried down the hall to her bedroom. She felt eighteen again—rejected by Bastien and scared of being judged for bearing a child out of wedlock.

  She paced around the room, trying to calm her nerves. She could hear Luc, Adeline and Pippa outside the window. They’d all rushed out to greet the mystery guest, eager to cajole him into playing games with them. Marie heard his voice above all the others, greeting Sara, offering candies to the children. He sounded delighted to be here. Marie contemplated hiding in the closet for the evening.

  When she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she appeared in the parlor. He was sitting on the floor, eyes blindfolded, while Luc and Pippa ran around him giggling. “What brings you here, Dr. Donnelly?” She tried to sound nonchalant.

  His head whipped around, and he jumped up, flipping off his blindfold to greet her. Marie covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. For once, he seemed like the fish out of water. “I hope you don’t mind. I met Philippe in town this afternoon and, since I didn’t have any plans, he suggested I dine with you all tonight.” He was in such high spirits, she could hardly find fault with him.

  “Of course.” Marie tried to sound pleased.

  He moved closer to her, away from the children. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” He searched her eyes.

  “No,” Marie lied. She rubbed her forehead, wondering if he knew. “Have you met everyone?” she asked, with her emphasis carefully placed on the last word.

  Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Yes, I have.” His intonation was clear: he was not troubled by the existence of her daughter, and he would keep her secret. His face broke into a smile. “You mean these savages here, who’ve blindfolded me, roped me up and fed me nothing but worms?”

  “Ew!” Pippa and Luc shouted in unison while Adeline watched with delight.

  Rose and Sara had soon whipped up a simple but delicious meal of meat pies, potatoes and rolls. Philippe dug out bottles of his 1896 chardonnay and 1897 cabernet from his private cellar. Even Marie enjoyed a couple glasses of wine.

  “Your sister-in-law Bridget and her daughter were very kind to me when I first started selling wine at the Napa Junction,” Sara said to Donnelly. “Over the past six months, she’s introduced our wines to her friends. We sold out of the ’99 cabernet months ago, but we still have a small stock of chardonnay and zinfandel we deliver locally.”

  “That’s good news, especially in light of last year’s misfortune. Philippe explained to me about the fire.” Donnelly shook his head. “What a blow, to work so hard and then to lose it all in one night.”

  “Would you l
ike a tour of the building site? They’ve framed it out and started the masonry.” Sara sparkled with excitement. “I’m sure Philippe and Marie would love to show you around,” she insisted, nudging Marie’s leg beneath the table. Marie resisted the urge to respond with a kick.

  “I’d love to, but I’d best head back. It’s nearly eight and I wouldn’t want to intrude any longer.” Marie felt instant relief.

  Sara spoke up. “Dr. Donnelly, I hope you don’t think it’s too forward of us, but we have an extra room and we could easily arrange for you to stay the night.”

  “I’ll take you back into the city first thing in the morning,” Philippe added. They were definitely in cahoots, Marie realized.

  Donnelly nodded appreciatively. “I’d be delighted, thank you.” Marie’s heart skipped a beat. She should have refused that second glass of chardonnay.

  A quilt of darkness had fallen over Eagle’s Run. Philippe handed lanterns to Marie and their guest, and they set out for the new winery site. Marie had to agree, the progress they’d made in a month’s time was impressive.

  “Look here,” Philippe said, tugging on the wooden frame. “The building will measure 150 by 100 feet, and between the cellar underneath and the two outlying adobe cellars, we’ll be able to store about 250,000 gallons of wine.”

  “You produce that much?” Donnelly raised his eyebrows.

  “We produce about 150,000 gallons now, but I want to expand our capacity and also buy and use grapes from other local growers.”

  “How many tanks will you need for that, Philippe?” Marie had been surprised to learn that the fermenting tanks they’d had to destroy to extinguish the fire had held 10,000 gallons each and rose up to the ceiling.

  “I’ve ordered forty 5,000-gallon tanks. We should be able to fit them all on the second floor.”

  “How will you get them up there?” Donnelly looked up.

  “We’ll have to hoist them up with a crane and drop them onto the second floor, then build the walls and third floor around them.”