Handful Of Flowers

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  “You’re right,” Polly murmured.

  “Reckon so,” Uncle Bryce agreed in a surly tone.

  Doc asked, “Is there anything else?”

  “Not at all,” she said swiftly before Uncle Bryce set in for a repeat of his opinion. He tended to do that. Stubborn as a mule, he’d likely prod the doc just to be sure he’d gotten the whole truth. Polly felt certain in her heart the doctor had been completely, wholly honest.

  “Then I’ll go check on our patient, Polly.” Doc headed across the cabin.

  Polly accompanied her uncle out to the stable. She half-stomped out there, then turned on him once they were out of earshot from the cabin. “What got into you?”

  “I oughta be asking you that selfsame question. I told you right from the start to beware of that man and not go off alone with him. That first time he came to wander ’round and gawk at your plants, I warned you not to keep company with him. The man keeps turning up like a plague of flies.”

  “He’s not a pest; he’s a professional. Not one single thing’s passed between us that is in the least bit questionable.”

  “Keep it thataway.” Bryce started watering the animals. “Soon as we feed these critters, I want you to go back home. He don’t care what folks think, but you need to. What he does still reflects on you if you keep company together.”

  Polly thrust the scoop into the oats and yanked it back out. Uncle Bryce tended to be an easygoing man, but when he dug in his heels, he could teach stubborn to a mule. She’d have to talk to Daddy and have him set his little brother straight.

  ❧

  Pastor Abe stood at the pulpit and beamed at the congregation. “I’d like to open the service with a special praise. The Lord blessed my wife and me with a healthy little boy late last evening. Given the fact that we’ve waited for him for so long, he’s to be called Isaac.”

  The rest of the parishioners laughed and murmured at the wonderful news and clever name. Eric forced a smile. He’d been home last night, but no one sought his assistance. The woman he loved essentially had stolen away the part of medical practice he most enjoyed.

  Daniel Chance scooted into the pew beside Eric. He gave him a curt nod, then paid attention to the pastor. Well, he tried to. The man fidgeted. He curled his hands around the seat on each side of his thighs in a death grip, then eased back and drummed his fingers on the edge. A moment later, he twisted and leaned closer. “Meet me outside.”

  Nineteen

  Eric rose and followed him out to the churchyard. “Is there a problem?”

  “Lovejoy’s back is bad again. She went to help the pastor’s wife last night. Polly gave her something to stop the spasms and help her sleep, but I don’t like this one bit. The traction—I rigged it up the way you showed me, but all it did was make Lovejoy hurt worse.”

  “I’ll go check on her. Why don’t you ask the congregation to pray?” Eric didn’t wait for a response. He unhitched his gelding and swung up into the saddle. The road to Chance Ranch would take half an hour—far longer than he’d accept. Eric cut across a patch of land, jumped the fence, and took the most direct route.

  Polly opened the cabin door as his horse skidded to a halt. “Dr. Walcott!”

  “Your father sent me.” He dismounted and headed into the cabin. “He said your mother’s in a bad way.”

  Polly shut the door behind him, and a vile odor permeated the cabin. “I just rubbed her down with liniment.”

  “I’m tellin’ you, Doc,” Lovejoy said from the bed, “hit’s a case of wonderin’ if the cure’s worse’n the affliction. McCleans Volcanic liniment reeks to high heaven, don’t it?”

  “Does it make you feel better?” He bent over the bed and noticed the lines of pain bracketing her mouth.

  “Reckon I couldn’t feel any worse.” She sighed. “ ’Tis my own fault, too. I been fightin’ the direction God’s leadin’ me. He knocked me on my back so’s I’d be forced to look up.”

  “Then I’m going to tie you up to the traction and keep you here until you and God get that matter ironed out.” He assessed her, then looked at Polly. “I need to apply traction higher on the back than we did before. Instead of the waist belt, we’ll need to devise something that straps just beneath her arms.”

  Polly looked around the cabin.

  Lovejoy winced from a spasm. “Cain’t we jest use a belt?”

  “If we rigged cloth into a suspenderlike arrangement in the back, that would work.” Eric headed for the open door to the apothecary. “Don’t you keep the cotton bandaging material in here?”

  “Grosgrain ribbon would be stronger and flatter. I’m sure Laurel has yards of it in her sewing basket.” Polly slipped past him and opened the door that led to the adjoining cabin.

  The only time he’d been inside her cabin was when she had the migraine. Other than a vague memory of the floral scent and white furniture, Eric didn’t remember anything about the place since he’d been focused on Polly’s headache. Curious about where Polly lived with her cousins, Eric craned his neck and took in the yellow gingham curtains, the bright rag rug, and the far wall that bore a large wreath of dried flowers and a picture. The place looked like it belonged to Polly—cheery and practical.

  She called over her shoulder, “The boys’ cabin is next door. There’s a box under the bunk bed on the left that holds clothes they’ve outgrown and can pass on. Could you please go see if there’s a belt?”

  “Sure.” Eric walked into the cabin she specified and headed toward the box. He had to step over discarded socks, a book, and a shirt and push aside a saddle frame. They’d added on to the cabin in order to accommodate what looked to be another set of bunk beds, and the sheer disorder of a bunch of young men gave the cabin an air of rowdy acceptance.

  For a moment, Eric looked about and felt a pang. He’d missed out on all of this—the sense of belonging, of having a brother as a confidant, of scuffling and arguing and teasing with someone. He envied the Chance men for having brothers and sons so they’d never sit alone at a table and eat in deafening silence.

  Setting aside those thoughts, Eric yanked a crate from beneath the bed and rummaged through it. He found a belt he thought might work and jogged back to join Polly at Lovejoy’s bedside.

  It took a few tries before they devised a setup Eric felt would work. He bent over Lovejoy. “I’m going to lift you so Polly can slip the strap beneath you.”

  “How’s about I wind my arms ’bout your neck and pull myself up?”

  “Mama, you’re going to hurt Dr. Walcott’s feelings. He’ll get the impression you don’t think he’s strong enough.”

  Eric flashed Polly a smile. She’d kept him from having to argue with Lovejoy and managed to hint that she found his physique manly.

  “Okay. Let’s get on with it.”

  A ragged moan tore through Lovejoy’s throat as Eric lifted her. He murmured wordless sounds of comfort, then carefully laid her back down once Polly arranged the apparatus. Quickly, he buckled the belt, then attached the weights to form the traction. “Her muscles are already in spasm. I want to go ahead and get this done so she won’t have to endure another jolt,” he said to Polly.

  Her hands shook, but she hastily tied the weights as he’d shown her the last time. Once done, she darted to the other side of the bed and wiped away Lovejoy’s tears. “I’m sorry, Mama. It’ll be better soon. Jesus loves you and cares about your pain. You know He does.”

  Eric watched Polly. Her hands were beautiful—caring, gentle, soothing. She moved with grace that never hinted that there was any urgency in her actions. Tiny things—pushing back a wisp of hair, fluffing a pillow, speaking in a soft, confident tone—everything she did exuded love. She gave her heart to each patient. He’d seen her this way with Beulah, Perry, the Greene children, and during the surgery. Her herbs, teas, and poultices might well have medicinal effects, but the real secret behind her healing was that she simply opened her heart to the Lord and let Him pour His love through her.

 
; After ten agonizing minutes, Lovejoy’s body relaxed. She closed her eyes as her head sank deeper into the pillow. “Confession’s good for the soul. I need to make a confession. My pride’s gotten in the way of my common sense.”

  “Mama, you don’t need to—”

  “Child, I do. ’Member how I told you healin’ ain’t just flesh and bone? When somethin’ ails a body, a heavy soul makes it worse. I gotta speak my piece here.”

  “All right, Mama.” Polly curled her hand around her mother’s.

  Eric wondered if he ought to leave. Was this a mother-daughter moment? He didn’t do well with these family things—the nuances escaped him.

  “Doc, stop bein’ antsy as a turkey at Thanksgivin’. Ain’t nothin’ sweeter than God’s children sharin’ their joys and woes. I seen you plenty these last months. God claims you as one of His own. I ain’t feelin’ shy ’bout openin’ my heart in front of you.”

  “I’m honored.”

  Polly glanced up at him. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes.

  Lovejoy let out a long, choppy breath. “Of all the things I like, catchin’ babies always pleases me most. ’Tis a miracle, and the both of you know what I mean. Mayhap, on account I couldn’t have me babes of my own, I came to think of midwivin’ as being God’s way of lettin’ me have a snippet of that joy.

  “I niver thought I’d have me a man who cherished me or little girls who called me their ma. God ended up givin’ me my Dan’l and Polly and Ginny Mae. But sometimes God gives us things for a season. Ginny Mae was here just awhile; then the dear Lord called her home.”

  Eric watched as the two women’s touch altered—the hold tightened in remembered grief. They’d shared that loss together. What would it be like to have someone to bear the burden of sorrow with you? His father had sent him away when his mother died. His grandparents had passed on at the same time. He’d never known the solace of mourning along with others who’d felt that deep wound of loss.

  “You were the only mama Ginny Mae ever knew, and she adored you. God blessed us the day you marched onto the ranch.”

  Lovejoy managed a weak laugh. “Yore papa shore didn’t think so at the start. But that all worked out. Our love is one of God’s gifts. He’s been generous to me. I enjoyed bein’ a healer; then I even got to share that with my Pollywog. All those times, they fill my heart like a treasure box. Any smart woman would count herself blessed and let it be. Only I ain’t been so smart.

  “After that horse kicked me last year, I knew I couldn’t keep on doin’ everything. Dan’l and me—we talked it over, and he’s the one who told the mayor to put that ad out for a town doctor. We prayed o’er the man God would send. Yup, Doc, afore you come, my Dan’l and me done covered you in ’nuff prayers to keep a whole passel of angels busy.”

  “I’m humbled.” Oh, am I humbled. These people saw a need, provided a job for me, and set up my clinic. I thought I had to prove myself, and they’d already accepted me. I stood on my pride and challenged them.

  “But you got here, and ’stead of me letting go, I didn’t. I held on. Oh, I reasoned it through—but that’s not what God asked of me. He told me to let go and trust Him to use the both of you to do His healin’ works. Me? I figured I could sorta help and partner and dabble. Not a soul knew it—but I did. Deep in my heart, I did.”

  You’re not the only one who’s been guilty of that. I was so sure of myself, I didn’t seek God’s guidance as I should have.

  “So here I am, flat on my back, and it’s time for me to come clean. Dan’l learned a hard lesson early in his life, and he favors a sayin’ that’s fitting. Nothin’ ever stays the same, but the changes are always for better if we give ’em to God.”

  “Daddy is fond of saying that, isn’t he?”

  “Yup. Hit’s time I stopped tryin’ to force God into seein’ things my way and I look at things through His eyes. My season of bein’ a healer is over. I ’spect it ain’t gonna be easy for me to turn loose, but now that you heard me out, you cain hold me accountable.”

  Silence and the pungent smell of liniment hovered in the air.

  “Mama, I’ll do my best to trust the Lord and care for folks.” Polly laced her fingers with her mother’s. Such a simple move—but it connected them, twined them together in an unconscious move that bespoke the intimacy of their bond. “I think you’re right. God sent Doc here, and we can handle things. From now on, you can concentrate on getting better and spoiling Daddy.”

  Longing to be a part of Polly’s world where caring came so easily, Eric dared to rest his right hand on her shoulder. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she looked up at him and gave him that smile that made his heart skip a beat.

  He’d wondered if he’d ever find a time and way to apologize for how he’d acted toward Polly and her mother. Polly acted as if he’d never once overstepped himself, but that was a tribute to her character. Lovejoy was right—nothing was better than honesty among believers.

  Eric cleared his throat. “Since humble pie is on the menu, I’m going to have to eat a slice, too—a big slice.”

  Twenty

  “Grab you a fork, son.” Lovejoy gave him an unsteady grin. “We won’t make it taste too bad.”

  “I came here thinking book knowledge and scientific treatments were what it took to heal. As a Christian, I knew God is the Great Physician, but I let pride get ahead of wisdom. Daniel is an astute man. He nailed me on it, and I’ve had to do a lot of thinking and praying. My only pride ought to be in Christ’s works.”

  “Iff’n my back weren’t so nasty, I’d be standin’ and shoutin’ glory, ’cuz God is faithful to meet us at our honest needs.”

  “I haven’t had a very meek spirit,” Polly said.

  “Never did,” Lovejoy shot back. “But your vine bears fruit of other kinds.”

  “It does, indeed.” Eric looked at Polly and recited, “Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness—”

  Polly and her mother started laughing.

  Baffled, Eric demanded, “What’s so funny?”

  A look of tenderness crossed Lovejoy’s face. “My mama loved that verse in Ephesians.”

  “In fact, she named her daughters after it,” Polly tacked on.

  “Lovejoy,” Eric said slowly, “and your sister is Temperance.”

  “Mama used all but Longsuffering and Meekness.”

  “I’ve been sitting in church worrying about you, woman.” Daniel Chance strode in. “And here you are, reciting your family tree.”

  “Betwixt Polly rubbing me down and dosing me up and the doc roping me like this, I’m tolerable.”

  Daniel knelt by the bed and kissed her. “Listening to that, you sound like a seasoned roast on a spit!”

  Polly moved out of the way and laughed.

  “We prayed for you this morning,” Daniel said.

  “Thankee, Dan’l. We’ve had us our own time with Jesus here.”

  “I’ll go rustle up some Sunday supper.” Polly headed for the door.

  “No, no.” Her father shook his head.

  Eric wondered if Daniel would make any reference to his daughter’s lack of culinary skill. He’d been understandably protective of her in other matters.

  “It’s family picnic day,” Daniel went on to say. “I’ll slap together sandwiches for your mama and me. You go on ahead.”

  “I was so worried about Mama, I forgot.”

  Eric couldn’t recall any announcement at church about a picnic. Had he been out on a call?

  Lovejoy called, “Doc, I’m shore you oughta go, too. Us and the MacPhersons git together for Sunday picnic ’bout once a month or so. Since we both got our boys up at Mr. Garcia’s place, Eunice sent word that we’d hold the picnic up there. Thataway, the boys cain all show off their hard work, and Mr. Garcia’ll git up and walk outside and eat more. You’ve been payin’ calls on him since you done surgery—’tis ’bout time you broke bread with the man to show him you think he’s hale again.”

  Daniel came out onto
the porch, and Eric discussed how often Lovejoy’s traction could be removed. Polly disappeared and returned with Blossom saddled.

  “Thanks for coming, Doc. That traction had me puzzled. It made Lovejoy a heap better last time,” Daniel said.

  “It’ll help again, but she needs to be careful. No more lifting or straining for her.”

  “We’ll find other things to keep her busy.” Dan grinned at him. “Things have worked out better than I thought with you.” Daniel shook his hand. “Glad you came.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad I’m here.” He stepped off the porch, wrapped his hands around Polly’s waist, and lifted her into the saddle. For the few minutes when he had hold of her, everything felt so right. More than anything, she’s why I’m glad I’m here.

  ❧

  Showing up at the family picnic with the doc earned Polly plenty of sly smiles and assessing looks. Her cousins sometimes brought along the folks they fancied. Caleb and Greta walked by, then Johnna and Trevor. No one was giving either pair a second glance.

  Polly couldn’t decide what she wanted. Well, yes, I can. I want Doc to court me. But until I clear things with April and he makes a move, it’s going to be downright embarrassing for everyone to keep gawking. I never should have come.

  Doc dismounted, and Polly decided to scramble down before he might feel obligated to help her. With his fine manners, he was always doing chivalrous things—but that would fan speculation among the family.

  “I need to go fetch something.” Doc smiled. “Please go ahead and eat. I’ll be back later.”

  April scurried up. “Doctor!”

  “Miss April.” He flashed her a smile. “Might I have a word with you?”

  “Why, yes!”

  Polly wandered off a few feet. She didn’t know what to think.

  “Polly, cain you come help me? I’m needin’ someone to spell me with Elvera whilst I git me a dollop more of the tater salad.”

  “Sure, Aunt Eunice.” Polly took possession of the baby and sat in the grass. A few minutes later, April came up. She brought an overflowing plate and put it on the blanket. “I brought enough to share with you, Polly.”