And Joy couldn’t be happier that she could actually be of assistance to those who were hurting, even if it was just a stomachache or a bump on the head. Hurting was hurting, and people shouldn’t hurt, not when there were care givers to provide healing.
Joy stopped and caught her breath, laughing at Mollie who looked as flushed as Joy felt. As of yet, there were no patients waiting, but it was early yet.
The sound of boot heels hitting the wooden floors brought Joy around to see the doctor coming up the short hallway from his office—even the hallways here were dressed for Christmas with small holly wreaths wrapped with green and sprigs of pine. The whole clinic smelled of yuletide gladness.
“Good morning, ladies!” he said, smiling, and Joy smiled back.
“Good morning, Dr. Bartlett,” she and Mollie replied in harmony, which made the doctor’s smile grow. Lord, but he was a handsome man. Shining blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, tall, broad-shouldered, and with a grin that would knock women off their feet. And he wasn’t the only man in town with that ability. From what she’d seen already, there were several prominent men, all of whom were as handsome as sin. Mollie said that they were all married, and Joy couldn’t wait to meet the women who’d snagged them.
Jealous? that snippy voice in her head asked. No, it wasn’t jealousy, it was—
She didn’t have time to mope over what she didn’t have, because the doctor held out his hand for her to shake, which she did.
“Welcome to your first day. I know Mollie has gone over the procedures of the day-to-day office tasks,” he began.
“Yes sir,” Mollie replied.
“She did, and I will perform my tasks admirably,” Joy remarked, her tone serious.
Dr. Bartlett’s azure eyes danced. “I have no doubts about that, Nurse Joy,” he said, reaching over the desk to grab a file from the top of a stack. “Today is going to be a busy one; seven appointments just for this morning. You ready for the adventure?” His gaze landed on her, and a surge of anxiety rose into her throat.
This was the next step in her career as a nurse—something she’d wanted to be since she could hold a spoon. You’ve come this far, Joy Luck! You are more than ready for whatever walks through that door!
Joy nodded, straightening her shoulders and planting her feet. “I am ready.” Too bad it took all her strength to push back the apprehension that slipped into her thoughts.
Chapter Two
Joy couldn’t believe how quickly the morning went. Once the first patient walked through the door, it had been a hectic yet completely satisfying morning. And now, it was time for her break, and she was determined to settle her racing heart and have a quiet meal in the back room Dr. Bartlett had set aside for rest and refreshment. It was a small room, more like a large closet, but it had a window to let in light, a small table, and three chairs. Pulling out one chair, she sat and leaned back, closing her eyes to let the light of the afternoon sun land on her face.
Just as she was enjoying the quiet, her stomach growled its displeasure. She let out a soft laugh.
“Hold your horses, there. Mollie is gone to get us lunch from Becky. Shouldn’t be too long now before you’re happy,” she muttered to her own belly, feeling the fool. Oh well, at least she was alone and didn’t looking like an utter loon to any passing patients. Hopefully, Mollie brought back a few plum tarts—with all the Christmas scents in the air, even in the clinic, Joy was decidedly hungry for the tastes of plums, goose, and buttered roasted potatoes. Her mother, having been raised by a poor Scotsman, knew the versatility of potatoes and had raised Joy on the cheap yet filling tubers. But now that her mother was a wealthy widow, Joy wondered if she’d dine on more elegant fare…there in her richly-appointed dining room. By herself.
“Blast,” she mumbled. No more thoughts like that. Find joy where you are…Joy.
Chastising herself, she didn’t hear the clinic door open, only the purposeful thud of boots coming up the hallway toward the room where she was sitting.
Wondering if Mollie had already returned, Joy stood, ready to take the food and give Mollie a big hug for retrieving it. But it wasn’t Mollie who stepped through the door, it was a petite blonde with dazzling blue eyes, a wide smile, and a round belly. Joy took in the woman’s dress; a lovely light pink walking dress with gold lace trim along the quarter sleeves, the hem, and along the scoop-necked bodice. Her dress was breathtaking in its simple beauty, just as the woman was striking in her loveliness.
The woman held out a gloved hand and winked. “You must be Nurse Joy Song,” she said, her voice a gentle and warm sound, made up of welcome and genuine delight.
Joy couldn’t help but grin back. “Yes, I am,” she replied, taking the woman’s small hand in a solid grip. “And you must be Mrs. Bartlett.” She’d heard that Tilly Bartlett was beautiful and quite the force to be reckoned with, and from what she could see about the woman—her glow and the pulse of energy she exuded, Joy believed every word of it.
Mrs. Bartlett squeezed Joy’s fingers and laughed. “Lord help me if I am old enough to be Mrs. Bartlett—please, please call me Tilly.”
Joy laughed, her heart light, and she squeezed Tilly’s fingers back. “Then you must please call me Joy, and it is an absolute pleasure to me you, Tilly.” And she meant it.
“My pleasure to meet you. Once I’d heard that Hank was finally hiring another nurse, I cannot tell you how happy I was to know he’d be home more often. With you and Mollie here to help out, he can come home to me sooner and stay longer, which has only been a dream up until now.”
Warmth spread through Joy, knowing that she’d been a small part of this woman’s happy moments. “I’m glad that I could come and help. To be honest, it has been a wild first day, but I’ve loved every minute of it.” Her feet hurt, her back ached, but her heart was full. What more could she ask for?
How about your own husband who comes home to you once the work day is done?
Where had that thought come from? It wasn’t as if she was looking for marriage; she was on track to an incredible career, something most women never had the chance to achieve. So why, in the name of bells and buttons was she thinking about marriage now? She was only twenty. She had plenty of time to find a man and get married—once she was ready. For now, she’d quiet that insidious voice and keep pushing forward. Sucking in a breath, she pulled the smile back up on her face.
“Did you come by just to see me?” Joy asked, finally letting go of Tilly’s warm hand.
Tilly sighed. “Well, no, I also came to see if my too-busy husband was available for lunch. I want to go over my plans for the upcoming Christmas Cotillion—the first one in Dry Bayou history.” Tilly’s glow brightened.
“A cotillion? That must take a lot of planning.” She’d been to her fair share of fancy dress parties while her father had been alive, but she’d never thought something equal to those in San Francisco would be happening in Dry Bayou.
“Oh, it certainly does,” Tilly remarked, nodding. “But I have a group of wonderful, capable friends to help me—speaking of which…” Tilly turned and looked down the hall toward Dr. Bartlett’s office. “Come on, Hank! I can’t leave Ray waiting long before she starts causing trouble!”
A giggled escaped Joy’s lips at Tilly’s playful and slightly alarmed tone.
“Joy, would you like to join us?” Tilly asked, her smile inviting and her manner welcoming.
She smiled back. “No, thank you. Mollie has just gone to fetch us our lunch from the boarding house.” And she certainly didn’t want to feel like the awkward odd one out—even though she knew Tilly and Dr. Bartlett would be the epitome of wonderful lunch companions.
Eyeing Joy with only a smidgeon of disappointment, Tilly waved a gloved hand before placing it gently on her belly. “Well, you’ll have to have a meal with me some time. I want to hear all about San Francisco.”
“I would love to tell you what I can, though, I’m sure you’ve already heard all the good parts.”
/> Tilly snorted, which made her nose scrunch up in an adorable fashion. “People only ever hear the good things, but I want to hear everything, especially about where you’re from, your family, your friends—it isn’t every day that I meet the daughter of a doctor.”
Dr. Bartlett appeared in the doorway just then, his hat in his hands, and his eyes only for his lovely wife. “Let’s get going, love, I want to make sure my two ladies are fed.”
Tilly giggled, slapping her husband’s arm. “And how do you know it’s a girl? It could very well be another little boy with golden hair and mischievous eyes.”
Dr. Bartlett chuckled, and the two moved on down the hallway, leaving Joy alone at the small table in the small back room, in the great big, lonely world.
Seamus grunted as the wagon rolled over yet another rut in the street. It had rained last week, and the usually smooth roads through town had become lousy with ruts and holes that had yet to be smoothed out again from much use.
“Canna ye no’ mind the ruts,” he groused at Billy who was driving. “I’ll die o’ a broken neck before I ever die o’ blood loss, if ye keep drivin’ like a blind banshee.” Och, aye, he was being a pain in the arse, but he was actually in pain—thanks to his lack of focus and a wily ram.
Billy grunted beside him, though not nearly as angrily. “I’m going as easy as I can, and we’ll get there before you know it, if you don’t die of delicate nerves before we reach the doctor.”
Seamus pointedly ignored Billy’s comment, determined not to thump the man driving him to the clinic. Gritting his teeth, he kept his eyes on the road ahead, watching as the people sidling along the boardwalks turned their heads to watch them roll by. He knew he looked a sight; his overlong hair mussed, his clothing caked in dust and sweat, and his side stained crimson from where that danged ram got him with his horn.
With a deft draw on the reins, Billy pulled them to a stop in front of the Bartlett Clinic, where Seamus’s good friend, Hank, could patch him up. Hank had been the town doctor for going on nine years, and before that, Hank’s father, the other Dr. Hank Bartlett, had been doctor, but Seamus hadn’t been around for that. He’d come to Dry Bayou just after Hank Jr. took over the practice from his father. They’d become friends quickly, and Seamus was certainly glad to have such a friend in circumstances like these.
Without waiting for the wagon to completely stop, Seamus gripped the side and jumped down, bracing for the eruption of pain his movements would cause. When the agony hit, he bit back a yelp and pressed his hand against the bit of towel Billy had given him to help staunch the bleeding.
As another wave of pain hit, Seamus muttered, “That’s what I get for lettin’ yer mother convince me tae let those lasses come down tae the paddock.” He’d been working, focusing on inspecting the juvenile ram, when Mrs. Ducharme, Billy’s mother, arrived with three other women, all dressed in pretty frocks, sporting frilly bonnets, and with eyes that could devour a man in a glance. He knew they’d come just to see him—too many of the women in town were looking for braw husbands who could provide for them. But that wasn’t him. Certainly, he could afford to marry, could probably clean up nice enough to attract a pretty enough lass, but…he didn’t want to.
None of the women he’d met in town had even made him look twice. And every year another batch of women showed up, looking for husbands and fortune. And every year he lost hope that one of those women would be meant for him.
Allowing Billy to come up beside him to help him grumble and stumble his way up the clinic stairs, Seamus, once again, cursed his lack of focus on the ram. If those ladies hadn’t been giggling and gasping, he’d never have looked to see what the fuss was about. He’d never have ended up with a bloody gash in his side.
Bollocks!
“Billy! Goodness, what happened?” A small woman carrying a basket came rushing up to them, dropping the basket at her feet as she came around to Seamus’s other side. Though she was slight, she was strong, helping him through the door to the clinic with relative ease.
“Nurse Mollie, this is Seamus MacAdams, Ray’s cousin. He was gored by a ram,” Billy informed as he and the wee lass helped him to a chair right inside the door. He sat down with a groan and laid his head back against the wall, closing his eyes against the ripples of agony racing up his right side.
“Goodness,” Nurse Mollie remarked. “And I think I just saw Dr. Bartlett go into the hotel with Tilly—I should go get him.”
Seamus didn’t open his eyes.
“But what about him? He’s bleeding all over the place,” he heard Billy interject, a sliver of panic is in voice. Seamus had to admit, he liked hearing his cousin-in-law a little flustered. It would give him something to laugh about later…much later. When his side wasn’t on fire with the flames of hell.
Sucking a breath, he hissed out.
“Let the lass get the doctor, Billy,” he growled.
“Don’t worry, Mr. MacAdams—Joy!” The woman yelled, and Seamus flinched. He could hear the sounds of hurried movements as someone else came into the room. A soft gasp met his ears and his heart began to pound at the sound.
“Nurse Joy will help you get him to a bed where Dr. Bartlett can examine him,” the one called Nurse Mollie continued, but he couldn’t hear what she said next, because a gentle, soft, warm hand slid over his forehead. And his heart thudded ever louder, a shudder racking his large frame.
“He is feverish,” the newcomer said, her voice a lilting song that raised goosebumps along his arms. “You’d better go quick, Mollie.”
The voice drifted over him, drawing him out of his pained stupor, just as the scent of something spicy and intriguing hit his nostrils. Seamus dropped his head and opened his eyes.
This time, when his breath caught, it wasn’t the pain that caused it, it was the utterly breathtaking woman standing before him, her burnished brown eyes staring down at him with concern and…astonishment.
His heart, pounding before, only raced faster, and he swallowed the shock that had lodged in his throat. It took less than a second for his mind to come to a single, life-altering conclusion, one his soul could only champion: Her. I’ve finally found her.
Chapter Three
Joy swallowed another gasp and tried to focus on the ragged wound in the large man’s side—and he certainly was large. Heavens. Very large. His wide and towering frame didn’t fit into the bed she and Mr. Ducharme had helped him to.
“How does it look?” Mr. Ducharme asked, his tone grave. Joy glanced at him, standing on the other side of the bed from where she was bent, examining the wound. His face was pale, his hat lopsided from running his fingers through his hair, and his blue eyes filled with concern.
She offered him a smile. “I think he has a remarkable chance at survival,” she answered, trying to keep a light tone, which was difficult because the man on the bed was staring at her so intensely, she could feel his gaze on her face. Heat rose into her cheeks, but she ducked her head further to hide it. With care, she pulled the fabric of his shirt up toward his neck, which left his abdomen bare. And her gaze caught on the expanse of male flesh she’d uncovered. Though his side was bloody and his skin white from blood loss, there was no hiding the amount of muscle rippling beneath. Joy swallowed, pulling away to meet the man’s eyes.
His incredible eyes—the color of a sunrise over a forest; golds and greens ringed with light brown. And his lashes…they were thick and darker than his hair, which was a rich auburn mane that brushed against his shoulders.
Lord, but he was handsome—and bleeding!
Focus, Joy Luck!
Standing up straight, she turned from the man’s overwhelming visage and opened the cabinet on the wall opposite. She pulled out clean bandages.
Without meeting his gaze, she said, “I have to fetch some water, I will be right—”
“Stay.” The man’s voice was deep, his tone pleading. That one word rippled over her, through her. Her heart skipped and she looked up into his eyes again. Mista
ke. This time, his gaze wasn’t just intense, piercing her to her bones, it was also…desperate, as if her being there was necessary for him to breathe.
Heat blasted through her, causing her belly to clench. She’d never seen anything like it, never felt anything like her response to it.
This man needs help—and so do I if I can’t keep my mind on stopping the blood.
“I’m sorry,” she nearly panted, “I have to get clean water. The doctor will want to cleanse the wound before he does his full examination.” She didn’t wait for his response, she dashed from the room, grabbed a pitcher from the table beside the back door, and ran to the water pump a few yards out the back of the clinic. Some of the buildings in town had indoor plumbing, but Doctor Bartlett didn’t see the need for the expense when the water from the well was perfectly sweet and clean. And with nurses to clean up after the patients’…messes, there wasn’t a need for fancy indoor water closets. Mollie said the doctor preferred to put the money into more supplies, better medicines, and for use with patients who didn’t have the funds to pay for their treatments.
It took only a few minutes to fill the pitcher and then she was running back inside, somehow driven to get back to that man. It was his eyes, his pleading, desperate eyes, that made her feet move faster than was necessary. There wasn’t much she could do until the doctor arrived other than prep the room and help the patient feel safe and comfortable. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to barrel into the room and do whatever she could to help him, heal him…care for him.
Where had that come from? That need to…care? And not just the required care of a nurse for her charge, it was a deeper need, the need to brush his hair off his forehead, to cup his cheek in her palm, to whisper words of comfort and assurance into his ear.
A Joyful Song: A Dry Bayou Brides Christmas Novella Page 2