by Conn, Phoebe
"In my mind, I can see her face so clearly when she told me about the baby. I think she was actually trying to tell me the truth then, and I'm afraid I just didn't give her the chance. Then when I came to see her a few weeks ago, I could see how unhappy she was, but I had no idea she had even more reason for her sorrow than I expected. Perhaps if I had been less critical of her she might have confided in me then, but she didn't."
Lars leaned back in his chair, his expression still registering disbelief, for he found the complexity of the situation Sarah had described almost impossible to comprehend. "I can see why you're so upset, Sarah, but will you give me a chance to think about the news you've given me for a while before I give you my opinion on what ought to be done?"
Since, in her view, what ought to be done was painfully clear, Sarah was disappointed that Lars hadn't immediately seen where his duty lay. "Of course," she responded rather stiffly. "I had hoped to begin my return trip home tomorrow, but if—"
"Tomorrow?" Lars inquired regretfully, then citing the complicated nature of their dilenmia rather than his desire to put things right between them, he continued. "I want to consider all the ramifications of this situation, Sarah. There might even be legal problems involved, I don't know. I don't think either of us should make hasty judgments on so delicate an issue as this. Please plan to stay here several days. Are you again staying with your friends, the Fletchers?"
"Yes, but I don't want to impose upon Louise's hospitality," Sarah replied primly.
His visitor was behaving in so cold and distant a manner that Lars feared he had ruined all possibility of a friendship, let alone a romance, between them. That pained him almost as much as the news she had brought him.
"I wonder what Etienne's name really is. Do you know? When Mark told me about him, he didn't call him by name," Lars wondered aloud.
"I've no idea. Does it really matter?" Sarah replied in as near sarcastic a tone as she dared use with him.
"No, not really. I was just thinking of how kind he was to your brother, the way he would peel a piece of fruit for him without being asked, or take his arm to guide his way without being overprotective. His regard for Mark appeared to be completely genuine. Was that merely an act for my benefit, or has he always been so considerate as he was when I was there?"
Sarah licked her lips thoughtfully before she answered as honestly as she could. "No, you didn't see anything out j of the ordinary, but everything the man did was an act, and he was remarkably consistent. From the first time I saw them together it seemed as though he and Mark were old friends. Now, of course, I can understand why. They did know each other, but they can't possibly have been friends."
Before Lars could comment on that, there was a loud knock at his door. "I was afraid we'd be interrupted," he apologized as he got up to answer it.
When the orderly saw the beautifully dressed young woman seated in Lars's office, he grew flustered. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but Harris is hemorrhaging again, and we need you."
Lars turned to Sarah. "It's an emergency and I've got to go. I took Erica to Louise's house several times, so I remember where it is. Will you be at home this evening?"
"Why yes, I think so," Sarah responded as she rose and moved toward the door,
"Good, I'll come and talk with you tonight."
As Lars dashed off down the hall with the orderly at his heels, Sarah remained by his door for a moment, not certain she actually wanted to see him later, since his first impulse had not been to grab a shotgun and return to Wilmington with her. "Damn!" she whispered under her breath, and finally deciding she would talk to him until midnight if she had to inspire him to take some prompt action, she left the hospital and returned to her friend's home.
By the time Lars reached Louise Fletcher's house it was quite late. He had left the hospital meaning to ^o straight there, but had ended up wandering the azalea-lined streets for more than two hours before turning up the walk of the brick townhouse where Sarah was staying. An elderly servant showed him to the parlor where he found the young woman seated by herself. She had not been reading, nor doing handwork, but merely sitting there looking very lost and alone, and he instantly regretted his tardiness and apologized.
"I'm sorry it's so late. Would you rather I came back tomorrow? I did my best to keep Harris from bleeding to death, but unfortunately, I failed. I knew I'd not be good company, but I should have come right over here and said so instead of hoping exercise would improve my mood."
The man looked as miserable as she felt, and Sarah immediately patted the place beside her on the striped satin settee. "I'm so sorry you lost your patient. Please come and sit down and rest a while before you go. Can I have Hugo bring you some brandy?"
Grateful she wasn't as upset by the lateness of the hour as he had thought she would be, Lars sat down with her, but he refused the brandy. "I don't drink anymore. Would it be too much trouble to have coffee or tea instead?"
"It's no trouble at all." Sarah asked Hugo to bring , coffee, then had another thought. "Do you like peach cobbler? Louise's cook makes the best I have ever tasted. Would you like some of that, too?"
That was too tempting a dish to refuse. "I would love it." When Hugo had left, Lars shook his head sadly. "I'm ^oing to feel as guilty as sin eating that when I've got men m the hospital right now suffering not from wounds, but from malnu trition. We even had cases of scurvy during the winter. There's good food purchased for the hospitals, but we have the devil of a time having it cleared for our use and delivered. The men in the field have such a ixx)r diet it is a wonder more aren't too ill to fight."
Sarah had hoped she would be able to control the restless sense of longing she felt whenever she was with Lars, but tonight it was more intense than ever. The night was warm and humid. She had worn a sheer muslin gown in a pale mint shade to keep cool, but she needed the refreshing
breeze created by her fan rather often to keep from appearing wilted. Despite her disappointment that Lars had failed to take some action immeaiately upon hearing her complaints, she still found much to admire about the man.
"I think your patients are very lucky to have a physician who cares so deeply about their welfare," she complimented him sincerely.
Lars sighed wearily. "I used to think I was as competent as any doctor I knew, and a damn sight better than most. That was what prompted me to enlist. I thought, with the desperate need for physicians, that I could put my skills to good use. Now after more than a year, I know the contribution I've made to the army is slight. I've seen wounded men packed in cattle cars that weren't even cleaned out before they were used to send the injured from the battlefield here to a permanent hospital. With treatment like that, it is amazing any survive the trip. Then when we lose one who didn't succumb on the journey here, it is doubly troubling. Maybe if I had done something else, something more. Oh, I don't know. I am just sick to death of seeing boys in their teens with their arms and legs blown off.
"I'm sorry," he apologized suddenly. "You can't want to hear things like that."
While that was certainly true, Sarah was still sympathetic. "My discomfort at hearing about it can scarcely compare to yours, when every day you have to view such horror," she hastened to assure him.
Hugo arrived then, and as soon as he placed the silver tray upon the table in front of the settee, Sarah picked up the silver pitcher filled with cream. "The cobbler is delicious, as I said, but it is ever so much better with cream. Would you like some?"
"Oh God, you aren't going to give my conscience any peace tonight, are you?" But Lars laughed, his downcast mood having already improved considerably at the arrival of the scrumptious refreshments.
"I think you deserve luscious treats like peach cobbler. You're far too modest. I'm certain you are the best doctor in Washington."
Lars laughed out loud at that lavish praise, since he felt
it was completely undeserved. "Please, Miss Randall, I'm conceited enough already."
"Please call me
Sarah," the shy young woman asked with a charming smile, pleased to find the evening was not going to be a total loss after all. She poured a generous amount of cream on his bowl of cobbler, then served him a cup of coffee.
Lars watched the grace of her motions, knowing she had undoubtedly been tutored from childhood in the arts that would make her the perfect hostess she was. He found her so charming he hoped their friendship would continue to develop as smoothly as it was going that night. "I would like you to call me Lars, if it doesn't sound too strange to you."
"Why should it sound strange?" Sarah inquired between bites of the tasty cobbler. "Lars is a nice name."
With his mouth full, Lars had to wait a moment to reply. He had found the cobbler better than good: it was exquisite. The peaches were sweet and the golden-brown crust so flaky it melted the second it reached his lips. Anna Ferguson's pastries were good, but not so delicious as this. It took him a moment to focus his attention up>on his companion rather than on the delectable dessert. "It wasn't the name I thought you might object to, Sarah. It's just the fact I am a good deal older than you and—"
"Hardly a 'good deal older,' Lars. I'm almost ten years older than Erica. You aren't old enough to be my father, if that's what's worrying you."
Lars had not expected their conversation to become so informal when Sarah had seemed to be under such an awful strain only that afternoon. Thinking it fortunate she was now more relaxed, he hoped nothing he planned to say would spoil the evening. "I am not particularly worried," he replied with a teasing wink. She laughed then, and so did he, for he could not recall the last time he had felt like flirting with a young woman, let alone done anything about it.
When they had finished eating the luscious dessert, Lars knew it was growing late and that he could no longer avoid dealing with the matter at hand. "I gave the problem you described a great deal of thought on the way here tonight. I know what you want me to do, but let's think
about our options for a moment"
Sarah patted her lips lightly, and after setting her napkin aside again picked up her fan so she would have something to do with her hands other than wringing them pathetically. "I'm afraid I really don't understand what those options might be other than the obvious one: to throw Etienne out of the house immediately. What else is there to consider?"
Lars reached over to take her hand in the comforting < clasp he often used with his patients' womenfolk. "Have you ever been in love, Sarah? I don't mean the infatuations ; everyone has growing up. What I mean is, have you ever ; really loved someone so dearly their happiness meant more to you than your own?"
Sarah hoped that question was not an accusation that she was such a great failure as a woman that she must be a stranger to love. She knew the difference between the sweet excitement of a ^rlish crush and the anguish of unrecjuited love quite well. That was a difficult thing to admit, however, since if she had ever been in love, why wasn't she married to the man?
Lars watched the blush rise in Sarah's fair cheeks and cursed his own insensitivity. "I'm sorry. That's really none of my business, is it?"
Sarah shook her head. "I'm not too embarrassed to answer. Yes, I've been in love, but unfortunately it was completely one-sided."
"Well, the man was a stupid fool, then, if he didn't consider your love precious," Lars assured her, not realizing how ironic his remark truly was.
Sarah didn't understand how their conversation had gone from playful to serious so quickly, but she was horribly embarrassed, even though she had denied it. "I don't think he suspected what my feelings were, Lars, but that's really unimportant now. What are we going to do about Erica and Etienne?"
"That's what I'm trying to discuss," Lars reminded her with a puzzled frown, not comprehending why she didn't understand where he was trying to lead their conversation. "I love my daughter dearly, and while I haven't been much of a father to her in the last few years, I'm going to try and do what's best for her now. She spoke with great fervor
when she told me she loved her Indian, and I diink she loves him still. If I told her I'd not permit her to have her lover living in the same house with her invalid husband, she would be forced to choose between them. While it's plain Erica has great affection for Mark, and gives him wonderfully attentive care, I don't think he would be her choice."
"But she is married to himi" Sarah protested a bit too loudly.
"According to whatever customs the Sioux have, she was married to Etienne first. I think she is closer to being a bigamist than an adultress, but I don't want to hear her called either."
Sarah's brown eyes grew wide at that thought. "Is that what you meant about legal problems? Could Erica be sent to prison for bigamy?"
"I doubt it." Lars brushed that possibility aside quickly. "Look, I didn't mean to frighten you. What I'm trying to say is that the question of who Erica's husband really is might be an extremely complex one. As long as she and Etienne are discreet, and Mark is content, then I'm inclined to let their situation, as unconventional as it is, continue a while longer. I know that's easy for me to say, since I'm living here where what they do doesn't affect me, but will you give the idea some thought before you refuse to consider it?"
Stunned that the man actually seemed to approve of a bizarre living arrangement she found not only immoral but totally abhorrent, Sarah sat back and remained silent a long while. Finally when she spoke, it was out of her love for her brother. "Mark adores Erica, Lars, he just adores her. He was terrified she was going to die when her child was bom. This is all so unfair to him. It's so terribly unfair."
Lars moved closer and put his hands on Sarah's shoulders to turn her toward him. "I didn't expect Mark to live. I have no idea how long he will live, either, Sarah. It might be y^rs, it mi|^ht be only a few more weeks. If Erica and Etienne are misleading him, they certainly aren't being malicious about it. Frankly, I have to admire them for it. I don't know that I would choose to live a lie rather than break a blind man's heart."
Sarah considered the full import of Lars's words before she replied. "That is the choice, isn't it?" she asked dejectedly. "If I insist Mark be told the truth about Etienne and the baby, then Erica will leave him, and he'll be heartbroken. He'd probably also blame me then for sending Erica away."
"Yes, I think that's a likely possibility," Lars agreed. He let his hands slide down her arms to her wrists, then brought her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips tenderly. "Please stay here a few more days so we can keep talking about this. Maybe another alternative will occur to us."
At that request, Sarah revealed her thoughts out loud. "I suppose it would be different if Mark weren't so confused about everything. Still, it hurts me to see the people he loves and trusts lying to him."
Lars released her hands then and rose to his feet. "Are they really lying to him, Sarah? Or are they making what might be Mark's last summer a wonderfully happy one?"
"Oh, please don't say that, please don't." Sarah burst into tears then, unable to discuss her brother's death in so detached a manner as Lars.
The physician waiited a moment, then, fearing she might cry the whole night through if he left her in such a state, he sat down again by her side and pulled her into his arms. "You need a rest as badly as I do. I'm sorry if you thought I could untangle this impossible mess with a quick trip home. I'd go back home with you if I could, but I'll not interfere in my daughter's life, when from what I've seen, she's doing the very best that she can to make an impossible situation bearable."
As Sarah relaxed in Lars's arms, she recalled the last time he had held her in so fond an embrace and how badly that had ended Not wanting a repetition of that night, she sat up, brushed away the last of her tears, and tried to say goodnight. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't get your uniform wet."
"It will dry," Lars assured her, startled by her sudden change of mood. "I'm more concerned about you. If you're not careful, worrying about your brother will become an impossible burden, and you'll end up resenting him, rather tha
n loving him as you do now. Don't let that
happen, Sarah, for both your sakes."
While Lars was being considerate of her feelings, Sarah could not help but feel cheated that he did not want to gpive her more than sympathy. "So you think I should just go home, and pretend everything is as it should be?" she whispered skeptically, still not convinced she could do as he asked.
"No, I want you to stay here in Washington for a while, so wc can get to know each other better. You see, I'm not nearly the fool that other man was. If you were ever to fall in love with me, I'd not only be flattered, I'd make you feel loved in return. I think every gift of love should be repaid."
Sarah was so thrilled by that unexpected vow that she was tempted to confess that he was the man she loved. She quickly discarded that idea, preferring to let him think he was providing wise advice to letting him know he was too stupid to realize she had been speaking of him. "I would like very much to get to know you better," she said rather bashfully. "I had hoped that when you were home—"
Lars interrupted her there. "Please, I am dreadfully out of practice when it comes to courting pretty young ladies, and I was simply too ashamed to admit that to you."
Sarah thought that excuse a feeble one. "You kissed me, Lars, so I'll never believe you need practice."
Lars tried to look disappointed then. "Oh really? I was hoping that you would think I needed a great deal of practice."
For an instant, Sarah didn't understand his joke, but when she got it, she laughed and threw her arms around his neck. "I must have been thinking of someone else. Now that I recall that night more fully, you're right. You could do with a bit of practice."
Lars found the taste of her kiss delicious, flavored with peaches and cream and delightfully soft and sweet. When he returned to the hospital after midnight that night, he fell asleep without realizing he had enjoyed himself thoroughly without once being tempted to compare the dark-eyed Sarah to the lovely wife he had lost.