by Verna Clay
Joy said, "Misty, do you think we could find the flower again?"
The child said nothing, merely set her brush in its holder, and then did something that widened Walker's eyes. She nodded and started toward the porch steps. Walker jerked his eyes to Joy's and whispered excitedly, "She responded!"
Joy's eyes met his. "She's been responding since we started."
He grabbed Joy's hand. "Let's go!" Walker liked the feel of Joy's soft palm against his and did not release it. They both followed Misty as she guided them into the forest. She stopped suddenly and stared at the ground.
Stepping beside her, Walker saw the flower and knelt. Misty went down on her knees and gently fingered the petals, lifting them as if looking for something beneath. He cast a questioning glance at Joy kneeling across from him.
She grinned. "She's looking for the little people, you know, the fairies and sprites that live in the forest. When I was Misty's age, I often looked under petals to see if I could catch them unawares."
Walker chuckled, "And did you ever catch them unawares?"
Joy's eyes twinkled. "Maybe once or twice."
Misty glanced up at Joy and wrinkled her brow.
Joy said, "They're probably taking their afternoon naps, which is something you should do, too."
In response Misty yawned.
Walker said, "I think Joy's right," and lifted his daughter into his arms.
Chapter Fifteen: A Month of Sundays
Sundays became Joy's favorite day of the week. After a month, she had made many friends at church, and although Pastor Pearly's sermons practically put her to sleep until he got wound up and started shouting his exuberance, she enjoyed the friendly, happy atmosphere he and his wife engendered.
The only downside was that every Sunday after Walker drove her back to the Jeromes, a sense of melancholia engulfed her because she would have to wait a week to see him and Misty again. So far, Misty hadn't spoken, but she had smiled and even laughed once. She would become especially animated whenever they searched the forest for fairies. As for her art lessons, she had now painted a toadstool, a leaf, and a grove of trees; always with a shade of lavender somewhere in the picture. Joy was amazed at the girl's acumen in lighting, shading, and perspective.
The only gloom to overshadow her visits was the afternoon return of Aunt Zena. The woman clearly did not like Joy and always scowled when she entered the dining room and found Walker and Joy sipping tea or coffee while Misty took her nap. She would give a curt greeting and then excuse herself. Shortly thereafter, Walker would drive Joy home.
It was on Joy's fifth Sunday at the Flemming home that Walker got called out on an emergency. They had been enjoying their tea while discussing Misty's progress when a motorcar sped up to the house. Walker had heard the approach and rushed to the front door, with Joy close behind. A young woman, probably not over twenty-five, ran up the porch steps and cried, "Dr. Flemming, Maynard fell from the hayloft and his arm is all busted up! It looks terrible!"
Walker ordered, "Get back in your automobile and I'll follow you!" As he grabbed his medical bag beside the door, he said to Joy, "I'll return as soon as I can to take you home. My aunt should be arriving soon."
Joy responded, "Don't you worry about me or Misty; you just go take care of your patient."
With his bag in hand, he smiled. "Thank you, Joy." He started to turn, but hesitated. "If my aunt says anything unpleasant, please don't let it disturb you."
"I won't."
He looked skeptical. "Promise?"
"I promise."
A few minutes later all that was left in the drive was dust. Joy peeked in on Misty. The child was lightly snoring with a smile on her face. Joy whispered, "Sweet dreams, my little fairy princess." She returned to the dining room to clean up the few dishes on the table. While she was rinsing them she was startled when she heard Aunt Zena's voice behind her.
"So I see you're already trying to move in and usurp Emily's place."
Joy couldn't believe the cruel words and jerked around. Remembering her promise to Walker not to let this woman disturb her, she inhaled and said calmly, "Walker was called out on an emergency for a man named Maynard who fell from his hayloft and broke his arm. His wife drove over, very distraught, and Walker followed her home in his motorcar. As soon as he returns he'll drive me back to the Jeromes."
The woman made a huffing sound. "Don't try to ignore what I just said, Missy."
Joy frowned. Walker's aunt was impossible. Rather than respond with a cutting remark, she returned to washing dishes, hoping Aunt Zena would leave. Sadly, the woman kept up her barrage of cutting remarks. She said, "I hope you realize that by filling Misty's mind with silliness about fairies and sprites living in the forest, you're not doing her any good. If she's ever to heal from her mother's death she must learn to face reality. And the reality is, her mother is dead and no amount of divertive tactics will change that."
Suddenly, Joy could no longer keep her promise to Walker. His Aunt Zena was rude, cantankerous, and downright cruel. With a ferocity that surprised even herself, she whirled around and said with deathly calm, "Why are you so mean and vindictive? What is it about me that causes you to hate me? Why does it bother you so much that I have chosen to seek a little adventure in my life by traveling and painting? Is your own life so pathetic you want everyone to feel as miserable as you? What happened to make you this…this…evil?" She gulped a breath and continued, "As for Misty finding enjoyment in believing in fairies and sprites, in case you haven't noticed, the child is now smiling and laughing occasionally, especially when she searches under flowers for beings that engage her mind with images of fairy princesses, and not the image of her dead mother. Yes, she will have to come to grips with her mother's death, but the journey there can be made easier for her. I recently lost my beloved grandfather, and I can tell you from personal experience that the image of him lying in his casket is not the one I want replaying in my mind. Using my imagination, I see him in the forest among the little people, just as Misty is beginning to see her mother, not in the finality of death, but in the beauty of creation. Whether it is imaginary does not matter." Joy's voice had risen in volume and she clamped her mouth shut.
During her tirade, Aunt Zena's eyes at widened and now narrowed. She lifted her head and squared her shoulders before sneering, "He'll never love you! Emily was the love of his life. You're wasting your time here."
Joy stood speechless. Had the woman not heard a word she'd said? Quietly, she responded, "If you continue along your path of spitefulness, you will drive a wedge between yourself and this family you love." She jerked back around, placed both hands on the sink in front of her, and tried to calm her raging emotions. She heard the door close.
Chapter Sixteen: Soon Departure
Joy lay in bed a few hours after the altercation with Aunt Zena and replayed the event in her mind. She was angry with herself for not keeping her mouth shut. Zena's personality was such that no one could ever win an argument with her.
Walker had returned home before seven and found Joy reading to Misty on the couch. Aunt Zena hadn't ventured from her room, which was more than okay with Joy. Before driving her home as he did every Sunday, he'd knocked on his aunt's door so he could leave Misty with her.
During the drive Joy didn't mention her confrontation with his aunt. He didn't need more worries on his mind. Instead, she'd asked about the outcome of the emergency and he'd readily responded. The man in question had broken his arm in two places and Walker had had to sedate him in order to set the bones. On the way back home he'd stopped by the preacher's house to apprise him of the situation so help could be rounded up. If not, the poor man would lose his wheat crop. His wife was so busy caring for their four small children that she could do little more than feed the animals and collect eggs.
Joy had said, "I'd like to help. What can I do?"
Walker had chuckled. "Now why doesn't that surprise me? You are one helpful woman, Joy Ryder. On Sunday you can le
t the preacher know and his wife will assign you a task."
Now, lying in bed, Joy turned onto her side and placed a hand over her heart. She was scheduled to leave Oregon City in five weeks. She had been away from her family for a year and missed them terribly, but the thought of leaving Walker and Misty rent her heart. She loved Misty and her feelings for Walker only intensified every time they were together. For the past two Mondays he'd surprised her by accepting dinner invitations from the Jeromes. Joy had been disappointed when he didn't bring Misty, and when she'd asked if the child could spend a day with her at the Jeromes, he'd politely refused, saying he didn't think she was ready to be away from home. Although his excuse sounded reasonable, Joy perceived an undercurrent not only from him, but from the Jeromes, that baffled her.
However, the bottom line was that she feared she was falling in love with the town's doctor. Was it possible to love someone so deeply and fiercely in such a short time?
Sighing, she fluffed her pillow and thought about the answer to that question. "Yes." When the man was Dr. Walker Flemming, it was impossible not to.
Soon she would have to tell him and Misty about her upcoming departure and her heart ached at the thought.
On the next Sunday, Joy made the decision to teach Misty's lesson from the child's bedroom. She wanted to give her student the experience of painting a portrait so she asked Walker to pose for them. He seemed happy to oblige and now sat on a child's stool in front of the window. Joy giggled when he began to squirm. She said, "Misty, I think we're going to have to conclude this lesson because your papa is starting the wiggle."
The little girl gave a huge grin and laughed long and delightfully. Walker gaped at his daughter. Barely stifling a gasp, Joy jerked her eyes to his. He quickly composed his surprised expression. "If this stool gets any smaller, I'll be sitting on the floor. In fact, I think that's a good idea." In a theatrical movement, waving his arms as if to keep from falling, he plopped onto the floor, and Misty laughed again.
Joy had to quickly dab the corners of her eyes to keep tears from falling. Misty was on the road to recovery. In an effort to cover her emotional state, she gave a few more instructions in painting portraits. Finally, when they ended the lesson because it was close to Misty's naptime, she teased, "Walker, you have been a most accommodating model and perhaps you should add that vocation to your resume."
Walker glanced at her askance from his seat on the floor. "I think doctoring will do me just fine." Then he laughed, and groaned, "If I can make my legs work, I'll get the tea kettle going and meet you in the dining room." He leaned toward his daughter and kissed her cheek. "Misty, would you like a snack before your nap?"
Joy had been wiping her brushes clean and jerked her head up when Misty said, "No, Papa."
For long seconds there wasn't a sound. And then, slowly, Walker reached for his daughter and set her in front of him. Gently, he said, "Misty, sweetheart. You just talked."
The child tilted her head and stared at him as if nothing unusual had happened.
Walker asked, "Do you want to say something more?"
Misty shook her head.
Walker glanced over his daughter's blond curls toward Joy and mouthed the words, "Thank you. Thank you." Joy sniffed and dabbed her eyes again.
Walker stood. "I'll meet you in the kitchen, Joy."
Joy nodded and finally found the hankie in her pocket so she could blow her nose.
Chapter Seventeen: Admission
Walker decided he needed something stronger than tea after witnessing a miracle and he placed mugs on the dining room table before returning to the kitchen for the coffeepot. Misty had spoken to him! His hands still shook from that magic moment. He couldn't wait to talk to Joy and thank her again. He wanted to… What? Kiss her? He tossed that thought aside. His beloved wife had only been dead a year and no one could ever replace her.
Joy entered the room and thoughts of kissing her jumped back into his mind. He said, "I decided I needed something stronger than tea. Is coffee okay with you?"
"More than okay. In fact, maybe we should spike it with whiskey."
At Walker's shocked expression, she laughed. "I'm just kidding. My one forbidden sip of whiskey when I was sixteen cured me of that curiosity."
Walker teased, "We could both roll a couple of smokes."
"Oh, I was cured of that at the ripe old age of eighteen when my cousin Eva and I indulged behind the barn. We both coughed so hard we figured we'd ruined our lungs forever."
Walker wanted to ask her about her first kiss, but decided that was too personal. Then he blurted. "And what about your first kiss? Was that also behind the barn?"
Joy blushed prettily and glanced away.
Walker wondered if her response was because she'd done more than kiss or whether she'd never been kissed at all. He decided the latter was probably the case. To make amends for his forthrightness, he said, "I apologize. That's something personal that I should never have asked you."
Joy's face flushed even redder and he felt like a heel. Reaching his hand out to grasp hers, he brought the conversation back around to what they had just witnessed. "Thank you for giving my daughter back to me."
Joy met his gaze. "I feel like today is a turning point for her. When she lay down for her nap, she grabbed one of her stuffed animals and cuddled it to her heart. I've never seen her do that. And then she kissed it."
Walker's hand trembled as he released Joy's hand and lifted his mug to his lips. He sipped, never taking his eyes off Joy. She lifted her own cup and then said something that pierced his heart.
"Walker, I want you to know that these weeks teaching Misty have been wonderful, and seeing her progress makes my leaving a little less difficult."
He frowned. "Leaving?"
"Yes. I'm scheduled to depart four weeks from tomorrow. I haven't seen my family in over a year and I miss them dearly. My Uncle Nate's little boy, Nate, Jr., is walking. My cousin Charity birthed a girl after I left, so I've never seen baby Anna."
Joy appeared to run out of steam with her conversation and Walker puffed a breath. "I don't know what to say. I guess it never occurred to me that you would be leaving so soon. But I understand your desire to return to your family and I know they'll be overjoyed to have you home again." He felt like he'd just run out of steam, too.
They both sipped their coffees and began rehashing Misty's breakthrough.
Chapter Eighteen: His Blasted Conscience
Two weeks before Joy's departure, Walker sat at the kitchen table with her while they sipped cinnamon tea and Misty slept. Whenever he thought about her leaving, his stomach got a hollow feeling. He would be forever grateful to her for helping his daughter, and although Misty only spoke one or two words occasionally, Joy had accomplished more in a few weeks than he had in a year. They had decided to wait another week before breaking the news of her leaving to Misty.
To distract his sadness over her departure, he said, "Tell me about Tucson and San Diego. I wish I could have seen those paintings.
Joy's eyes lit and she leaned forward. "Everywhere I've visited, I've researched the history of the area. Do you really want to hear it?"
Walker loved the intelligence in her eyes and also leaned forward, placing his chin in his palm. "Yes, I do."
She grinned. "Did you know that at one time Tucson was part of New Mexico Territory?"
"No, I didn't"
It wasn't until the 1860s that Arizona Territory was formed and the town became part of it. Tucson was even the capital for ten years. And Arizona only recently received statehood in 1912. By then five flags had flown over Tucson: Spanish, Mexican, American, Confederate, and the State of Arizona. And my Uncle Luke told me that some of the stagecoach robberies he wrote about in his stories were patterned after actual Tucson robberies."
Walker reached and trailed a finger down Joy's arm before he realized it. Pulling his hand back to his teacup, he said, "So, tell me what you painted while you were there."
Joy
rubbed her arm and her complexion flushed. Being a doctor, he noticed everything. He'd know for weeks that she was attracted to him, but he'd stifled his own attraction because his blasted conscience kept telling him it was too soon after Emily's death to feel drawn to another woman.
Joy continued her history lesson, her cheeks a pretty pink. "Tucson is surrounded by five mountain ranges and has adobe structures similar to those in Santa Fe."
Walker was having a hard time concentrating on her words while watching her mouth.
"My host and hostess were a husband and wife theatrical team who starred in one of my Uncle Luke's stories adapted for the theater a few years back."
She grinned and Walker imagined himself pulling her onto his lap and tasting that pretty mouth.
She continued, "I went to see the play when it debuted at Sally's Theater in Dallas. The theater is owned by a dear friend of my mother's named Paddy Pensing, and I have to tell you, Mr. Pensing is the heaviest man I've ever met, but he's also the happiest. Not only that, he has a treasure trove of western tales. I could listen to him for hours."
There was an awkward silence while Joy stared at the table.
Walker said, "Now tell me about San Diego. Did you like California?"
She lifted her head. "Oh, I loved it. It's vastly different from the other places I visited. Capturing ocean sunsets on canvas is indescribable when the sun transforms the waves into shimmering diamonds. Sometimes I painted on the beach, other times, on the cliffs." She bit her bottom lip, and asked shyly, "Am I boring you, yet?"