Banner O'Brien

by Linda Lael Miller

  The great shoulders moved in a good-natured shrug. “I’ll wait,” he said, and as Banner walked away, she heard him speak, in a heated undertone, to Mr. Royce.

  It was something she should have thought about, she knew, this thinly veiled hostility between her friend and the man who had persuaded her to come to Port Hastings in the first place, but with Adam’s gift still to be chosen, she had enough to consider.

  Her attention was drawn back to the display of toy drums eventually, and in a rush of delicious daring, Banner selected the most colorful one for Adam, to commemorate the day they’d visited the Klallum camp.

  Temple Royce had left the store, and Jeff remained at a discreet distance until Banner had made her purchases and the storekeeper had wrapped them all together in a length of heavy brown paper tied with twine.

  While she waited just inside the front door, watching the snowfall and the brisk foot and wagon traffic in the road, Jeff made a purchase of his own. After tucking something into the pocket of his coat, he joined her.

  It was but mid-afternoon, but Jeff gestured toward a dining establishment across the street as they went out. “Hungry?”

  Banner was hungry since she hadn’t had lunch, but she was intent on claiming her taffeta dress from Wung Lo’s first. The next day, after the skating, there was to be a party, and she wanted to look nice, even though Adam wasn’t going to be there. Being a doctor, Banner knew that an emergency could come up at any moment and leave her with no time to recover her gown.

  “I would like to stop at Wung Lo’s first, please,” she said.

  Jeff nodded and offered his arm. “How well do you know Temple Royce?” he asked lightly as they made their way over the slick, crowded walks in the direction of the laundry.

  “Not well, actually,” replied Banner, recalling the animosity she’d sensed between Jeff and Mr. Royce, back in the store. “You don’t like him, do you?”

  “That is an understatement,” said Jeff, affably enough. He looked like an overgrown boy, with the snow gathering in his polished-honey hair. “Do you like him, Banner?”

  She considered. “I hadn’t really thought about it, one way or the other. I’m indifferent, I guess.”

  Banner had not realized that Jeff was tense. Now, as his body relaxed visibly, she did. “Good,” he said, and then they were at the door of Wung Lo’s and he was opening it for her.

  The inside of that laundry was a cluttered, starchscented delight. Steam billowed from the washing vats behind the counter, and a machine for grinding rice made a great, festive clatter. On the shelves were packages of exotic tea, bags of rice, and bundles of clean, carefully wrapped laundry.

  Wung Lo himself greeted Banner, grinning and chattering apologetically. She couldn’t understand most of what he said, but the gist of it was that her gown had not yet been pressed.

  As Banner and Jeff watched, the Chinaman found the dress and spread it out carefully on a padded board. Then, simultaneously reaching for a flat iron heating on the stove and filling his mouth with water, he spewed the liquid over the skirts of Banner’s cherished gown and began to press it.

  Jeff chortled at the look of horror on Banner’s face. “Startling,” he observed, in an undertone, “But very effective all the same.”

  Banner’s eyes widened as the Chinaman repeatedly filled his mouth and spat water onto her dress. His tiny hands moved rapidly, however, and, when he was finished, the garment looked almost new.

  “Me bling to missy’s house?” Wung Lo asked, beaming.

  Banner wanted the dress immediately, but she was considering the mechanics of getting it home without rumpling it somehow. She and Jeff still had to eat, and how would the garment fare in the snowfall outside? If it survived that, would it be crushed in the carriage?

  “Bring it to Corbin House, please,” Jeff said smoothly, laying several coins on the counter top. “Today.”

  “Today,” confirmed Wung Lo with a nod.

  On the street again, Banner grappled with her package of Christmas gifts, meaning to repay Jeff for the coins he’d given Wung Lo.

  Jeff took the parcel and shook his head. “Never mind the money,” he said firmly.

  They were settled in the restaurant when she took the proper number of coins from her handbag and laid them on the table.

  Jeff ignored them all through the meal, which was delicious. Banner had never tasted anything like the thick-crusted chicken pies they were served; in fact, she consumed hers with such relish that Jeff offered to order another.

  Banner refused, but only after giving herself a silent lecture on ladylike behavior. There was still the cider to drink—it was hot, spicey stuff with a cinnamon stick floating on top—and she savored that.

  “You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Jeff observed, as their empty dishes were taken away by a rather flustered young waitress.

  Banner smiled. “You are good company, Captain Corbin. Good company indeed.”

  He looked a little sad, even as he returned her smile. “Am I?”

  Banner was quick to assure him that he was.

  Jeff touched her hand briefly and then drew back, having thought better of the gesture, it seemed. “I hope you didn’t mind my telling Wung Lo to take the dress to our house. Mama and Melissa are hoping you’ll spend the night there.”

  Since Melissa had already broached this subject, in her tenacious fashion, and extracted a promise that Banner would share her room until Christmas Day, she nodded. It was good to know that, for however brief a time, she would not have to return to her hotel.

  There was a short silence, which Banner broke with a gasp.

  “What is it?” Jeff asked, concerned.

  “I forgot to buy Clarence a present!”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “We can’t have that. What will you buy for our dashing young gambler, Banner?”

  She had already decided on a copy of Melissa’s zesty dime novel, but she couldn’t say that, of course, the girl’s writing career being a guarded secret, so she simply shrugged and changed the subject.

  When they had left the pleasant restaurant, they went back to the general store, where Banner purchased the intended book. After that, Jeff instructed the carriage driver to take them to the waterfront, where the Sea Mistress rode at anchor.

  Sensing that Jeff was as proud of that sleek clipper ship as any father would be of a child, Banner enthused over it and asked a number of questions, Her interest was not feigned; she was filled with wonder just to think of all the places Jeff must have visited and all the strange, exotic sights he’d surely seen. He had even been to Hawaii once, he said, his father sailing with him.

  “Six months later,” he went on, as they walked back up a wooden wharf toward the waiting carriage and driver, “Papa drowned in the accident.”

  Banner linked her arm through Jeff’s and spoke softly into the quiet of his grief. “Then it’s good that you and he made that voyage together, isn’t it?”

  Jeff nodded and moved as if to touch her hair, then stopped himself. With a sigh, he helped Banner into the carriage and joined her.

  Since he seemed to be in a reflective mood, Banner did not attempt further conversation as the carriage made its way back up the hill to the house.

  * * *

  Adam paced the ward from one end to the other, his strides metered by the snores of Clarence King. Good Lord, any minute it would be dark. Where was O’Brien, anyway? Had she taken her month’s salary and skipped town after all?

  “Adam.”

  He stopped at the sound of his youngest brother’s voice and turned, his hands clenched at his sides.

  Keith laughed. “Trying to figure out how long the ward is?”

  Adam waved one hand in an impatient gesture but said nothing.

  Bracing himself against the framework of the door, Keith folded his arms across his chest and surveyed his brother calmly. Though he had Katherine’s fair hair and blue eyes, it seemed to Adam that he resembled their father. He was al
ways so calm, damn him, and so sure of things.

  “Jeff asked Banner to have supper with him, Adam. That’s why they’re not back yet.”

  “Who says I was wondering?”

  “I do.” Keith’s blue eyes moved to the sleeping patient nearby. “The boy looks all right. How about leaving him long enough to let me beat you at chess?”

  Adam laughed. “You do have faith, pastor.”

  Keith shrugged and raised one eyebrow. “Faith nothing, big brother. I’ve been practicing since the harvest. Besides, you have a habit of leaving your queen unguarded.”

  The remark made Adam think of O’Brien and his brother, and he grimaced. Supper, was it? Damn it all to hell, he hadn’t given her time off so she could go galavanting off to supper— especially with Jeff.

  “Stop worrying,” admonished Keith, as they started, single file, into the walkway.

  “Supper,” grumbled Adam, half to himself and half to his brother. “Good Lord, don’t we have enough food here?”

  Keith chuckled. “What a romantic soul you are,” he chided, over one shoulder. “Women like to go out once in a while, Adam.”

  “Thank you very much, reverend, for that sage observation, but the fact is that O’Brien works for me and she had no business—”

  The door joining the walkway to the dining room opened with a gentle shove of Keith’s hands. “No business liking Jeff?” he finished.

  Adam sighed in exasperation. “Are we going to play chess or not?” he snapped.

  Keith indicated the parlor beyond with a slight bow and a sweeping motion of one hand. “After you. Did you buy Banner a Christmas gift?”

  “What if I did?”

  They reached the parlor, where the tree stood in its wooden stand waiting to be adorned. In the middle of the rug, Melissa knelt, plundering through a huge box of gee-gaws with both hands.

  She looked up, beaming, as her brothers entered. “This is the best tree ever!”

  Adam scowled at the tall, lush pine. His feet were still cold from stomping around in the snow that morning; he’d thought Keith and Jeff would never agree. A whole damned forest to choose from, and they’d acted as though they were looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

  “It’s a fire hazard,” he said flatly, as Keith brought the ivory chessmen in their familiar leather case from a drawer in the desk.

  Melissa put out her tongue and went back to her rummaging.

  “You are a charming fellow today,” Keith mocked, as he set the chess pieces atop an ebony-and-brass-inlaid table near the fire.

  Adam drew up a chair, sat down heavily, and began to put his pawns in place. He wondered where Banner and Jeff were having supper and what they had ordered to eat.

  Presently, when the game was well underway, he glanced at the windows. Even through the green-needled boughs of the Christmas tree, he could see that the snow was still falling. The weather was cold, and the ice on the pond behind the house would be hard and smooth tomorrow—no chance that the traditional skating party would be canceled.

  Adam wondered how he would get up the mountain and whether or not they would understand if he was delayed, if he didn’t bring the food until the day after.

  He moved a bishop out of immediate peril. O’Brien would be a sight, flashing around that frozen pond on her borrowed skates. Maybe her cinnamon hair would fall from its pins and tumble down around her shoulders and her—

  On the mantelpiece, the clock made a whirring sound and then pounded out five ponderous chimes. Five o’clock. How long had Jeff and Banner been gone now? Two hours? Three? If Jeff tried to kiss her, would she let him?

  Adam gave himself a mental shake and tried to concentrate on the game. What did he care if O’Brien let his brother kiss her?

  “Adam.”

  He looked up, met Keith’s knowing blue gaze. “What?”

  Keith smiled benignly. “Checkmate,” he said.

  * * *

  Banner hid her gifts away in Melissa’s room before going over to the hospital in search of Adam. It would have been fun to wrap the presents in the pretty paper and ribbon she’d bought, but there was no time for that now—she’d been gone much too long.

  Adam was nowhere in sight when she reached the ward, but Clarence was sitting up in his bed, his bandaged hand resting in his lap, his eyes brooding and faraway.

  Banner touched his forehead briefly and smiled, thinking how young he was to be living such a dissolute life. What would his mother say if she knew he’d been stabbed through the hand in a seedy boxhouse?

  “Feeling better?”

  His answering smile was forced. “My hand don’t hurt,” he said.

  “I think your heart hurts a little, though, doesn’t it?” Banner ventured, in a voice crisp enough not to offend his dignity. “Are you missing your family?”

  Clarence nodded and averted his eyes. “They’ve likely been gettin’ ready for Christmas since October,” he brooded.

  Before Banner could offer comment, Melissa waltzed in, pulling Jeff along behind her. “We’re all having supper in the parlor tonight,” she announced, her smile lingering on an obviously bedazzled Clarence. “You’re strong enough to join us, aren’t you, Mr. King? Maggie made oyster stew, like always, and after we eat, we’re going to trim the tree.”

  Over Melissa’s dark head, Jeff’s gaze linked with Banner’s and he smiled. Apparently he’d been recruited to assist Clarence to the other side of the house, should that be necessary.

  Clarence looked pleasantly befuddled. “Well, I—I mean—”

  Banner patted her patient’s shoulder. Sometimes, she thought to herself, the best medicines didn’t come in bottles or powders at all, but were contained in people. “I’m sure Miss Corbin will be very disappointed if you don’t join in,” she said.

  Clarence’s heretofore wan face was shining now. “I’d like to,” he said shyly, but then he looked down at his nightshirt and robe and colored. “I can’t go like this!”

  “Nonsense,” said Melissa warmly.

  At that, Jeff helped Clarence out of bed, and then Melissa caught his arm in one hand and escorted her guest out of the ward, leaving Banner and Jeff alone.

  Banner busied herself with the remaking of Clarence’s bed, her own cheeks pink. “You’ll be late for supper,” she said.

  His voice was low. “I’ve eaten. Remember?”

  She nodded, glanced at him, saw that he was leaning against the wall, just inside the walkway door, his arms folded.

  “I’m going to have to resign myself to being brotherly where you’re concerned, aren’t I, Banner?”

  Banner bit her lower lip and nodded again. Jeff was so handsome and so funny and so wonderful to be with, but he wasn’t Adam and there was no changing that, no matter how much simpler it would have been to love this brother rather than the other.

  He turned and walked away, and when Banner went in to watch the trimming of the tree, Jeff wasn’t there with the others.

  Chapter Six

  THE MORNING OF DECEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH DAWNED—still and bright, and the world lay like a slumbering maiden beneath a counterpane of white. Adam Corbin turned from the line of windows at one side of the kitchen and yawned.

  “Damn fool,” muttered Maggie, angrily stuffing two jars of crabapple preserves into an enormous covered basket.

  Adam laughed ruefully and strode to the stove, where hot coffee and a shimmering mirage of heat awaited him. “Did you tell Jim to have the sleigh ready?”

  Maggie wrapped two pies in checkered napkins and put them into the basket along with the crabapples and a small roast goose, among other things. “Yes,” she snapped.

  “Thank you!” Adam snapped back, though his anger was only a mockery and Maggie’s was real. She didn’t like it when he or any other member of the family kept secrets from her.

  In truth, Adam would have liked to confide in Maggie—she was a sensible sort and the burden would be lightened if someone else shared it—but he didn’t
dare take the chance. Too many people would suffer if word got out.

  “You got a squaw up there somewhere?” Maggie demanded, as she did every time he prepared for the journey up the mountain.

  Adam took a thoughtful sip from his coffee and brought one booted foot to rest on the bench in front of the fireplace. “Think whatever you like, Maggie.”

  A cagey look crossed the woman’s plain face. “Too bad you won’t be around to look after Dr. Banner.”

  Adam was annoyed. “Jeff and Keith will do that.”

  “That’s what I mean. She’s a pretty bit, that one. Every man at the party will be scramblin’ to lace her skates and fetch her hot chocolate.”

  Adam flung his coffee into the fire, sizzling as it sizzled.

  Maggie laughed in appreciation. “Don’t you lie to me and say you don’t care, neither, Adam Corbin, ‘cause I know you do. If you want that woman for your own, you’d best stop running up the mountain every three weeks and tend to your courtin’.” There was a short pause, for effect, before she added, “Jeff has an eye for the lass, you know, and he’s got the good sense to go after what he wants.”

  Adam lifted his empty mug in an impudent salute. “I wish him every success,” he lied. “O’Brien, you see, is everything I never wanted in a woman.”

  Maggie quivered with indignation and slammed the lid of the basket. “You’d better put on them spectacles you wear for readin’ and take another look at her, that’s what you’d better do! She’s beautiful, that one, and no woman could be better suited to you than she is!”

  “She’s a born rabblerouser, like Mama,” Adam argued quietly. Calmly, he hoped. “The woman I marry—if I marry—will be a resident wife, sleeping in my bed at night and sitting at my table in the morning. What she will not do is spend half the year in Olympia, pestering the legislature.”

  “Or practicing medicine in Port Hastings?” prodded Maggie, who could be very perceptive at times. “I’m surprised at you, Adam. Seems to me that Banner O’Brien would be a real helpmate.”

  That and more, thought Adam, wondering how much longer he could be around that fiery little Irish minx without forceably bedding her. Forceably.