“And ye aren’t gettin’ any younger,” he aunt continued, unaware of his turmoil, but adding to it with her comment.
“Nay, I’m no’.” He’d be thirty-four in three weeks. How old was Joy? She looked to be no more than twenty. If that were the case, there was more than fourteen years separating them.
That means nothin’ if it’s meant tae be. He had to believe that.
His aunt slapped him. “Then what’re ye waitin’ for, lad?”
What was he waiting for? A grin split his face, and a renewed energy flowed through him. He couldn’t even feel the wound in his side. Seamus had no idea how, but he knew what; he was going to get Joy to fall in love with him. He would have his miracle, just in time for Christmas.
His heart soared.
The next morning, Seamus bounded from the house, his spirits light, his heart pounding, his thoughts swirling. He hadn’t slept much the night before because he’d been racking his brain for ways to charm the lovely Joy. He wasn’t a charming man, he’d spent more time around sheep than people, but he’d learn. And the only one he knew who could teach him about charm was Jean-Marc La Fontaine, the town sheriff, and nephew to the town founder, Leslie La Fontaine. Jean-Marc had spent a good portion of his life as a riverboat gambler, living off his charm and skill with the cards. If anyone could teach him how to woo Joy, it would be that man.
He pointed his feet in the direction of the stable where he’d saddle his roan, Sassenach, and head into town where Jean-Marc was probably opening the sheriff’s office for the day.
Before he could take more than five steps, a shout brought him about. Ray was calling to him from near the paddock where the ram was grazing. She was wearing trousers, boots, a plaid shirt, and her hair was braided into a rope of fire that hung down over her chest.
“Ho there, cousin, where ya headed in such a hurry?” she called, and Seamus bit back a grumble. He loved Ray, but he had too much to do to be nattering with her about Lord knew what.
“Headed intae town,” he called back, making to continue on his way to the stable.
“Seamus Walker MacAdams, you stop right there!”
He immediately halted and swung around to face the wee mite who was charging toward him. No one ever called him all three names. Aye, he was a man grown, but even Jesus stopped His work when His Father called Him all three names!
Holding in his annoyance, he waited for Ray to stop in front of him before saying, “What is it, Ray? I havena all day.”
She planted her hands on her hips and turned up her nose, peering up at him with narrowed eyes.
“You’ve been stuck in that house for more than a week, I figured you’d want to get some work done today. While that ram may have got a piece of ya, he still needs an exam before we can put him to pasture with the rest of the flock.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and nearly hissed at the pain that splintered his side. Speaking of that ram only made the ram’s handiwork all that more irritating.
“I ken that, Ray, and I’ll get tae it, once I get back from my business in town.” He didn’t need to explain anything to her, but, like most MacAdams men, they had a soft spot for their women. “And dinna ye worry, I’ll bring ye some fresh baked tarts from Arlene’s Bakery.”
Ray’s eyes softened, and she dropped her hands. “Fine…but don’t think I don’t know what’s goin’ on with ya. I was there, remember, when you came out of the exam room and looked about ready to fall over, but you were lookin’ around, hopin’ to see the one person who wasn’t there.”
Blast. He hadn’t known he’d been so obvious about it. He could remember it, though, coming out of the exam room, his body throbbing, his side burning, but his only thought was to see her again. To ask her more questions. To learn all he could about her.
But she’d been gone. And it had been a rough eight days since then.
“What do ye think is goin’ on with me?” he asked archly.
A twinkle appeared in her eyes, and he knew he was in trouble.
Double blast!
“You have fallen hard for Nurse Joy,” Ray chirped, her face glowing.
“Aye, so ye do know what’s goin’ on with me, so ye know I canna stand here chattin’. I have tae go learn about charm, so I can woo her.” He wasn’t so proud that he wouldn’t admit he needed help, especially when the end goal was something he’d only dreamt of until eight days ago.
Ray snorted. “You don’t need to learn charm to woo Joy,” she said, slapping Seamus on the shoulder.
He raised a single eyebrow, incredulous. What did his wee cousin know about wooing? She’d practically dragged Billy to the altar. And Billy hadn’t minded one bit. So…maybe there was something he could learn from her.
Shrugging, he asked, “What do ye suggest, Cousin?”
Chapter Five
At the sound of the clinic door opening, Joy’s heart flipped, as it did every time the door opened, and she looked over her shoulder to find disappointment standing there. No, that wasn’t fair; Mrs. Lillimer had an appointment to see the doctor about a toothache, so Joy should have known better than to expect him to come walking through the door instead of the patient she was waiting for.
But that didn’t stop her from wishing he would—despite everything her head was saying.
He’s a distraction. You can’t afford a distraction. This is your chance to prove you were right, that you can be a success without tossing around your father’s name. That she could be a success despite her father never wanting that for her.
Reminded of her primary purpose in coming to Dry Bayou, she greeted Mrs. Lillimer.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lillimer.” She reached out and took the woman’s gloved hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “How’s that tooth?”
Mrs. Lillimer was a widowed immigrant from Sweden, and so while she greeted Joy with an effusive smile, she didn’t speak English well.
“No good. No good. Pain like hammer to face,” she said, pressing her other hand to her right jaw. “Doctor pull tooth. He pull tooth.”
Joy understood that; the woman wanted Dr. Bartlett to pull the tooth, to put her out of her suffering. “Well, we will let the doctor decide what he thinks is best. Come along to the exam room.” With care, she led the short, plump woman, with platinum hair down the hallway and into the very same exam room where she’d led Seamus…
Unbidden, images of him, lying on the bed, his head up, his hazel eyes boring into her, flashed in her mind. She couldn’t shake the intensity of his eyes, the look in them, the complete focus. On her.
Clearing her throat, she said, “The doctor will be in shortly. Until then, I can get you some water?” Anything to keep her hands busy and her mind off tall, bulky Scots.
Mrs. Lillimer nodded, still gripping her own face, and Joy left the room to fetch water for the poor woman.
One thing she’d noticed immediately about the Bartlett clinic was that they treated their patients like family. Unlike the large hospitals in San Francisco, where people were shuffled in and shuffled out because of the volumes of sick, the clinic in Dry Bayou made sure that every single patient was treated as a mother, father, brother, or sister would be treated.
It was remarkable. And it made Joy all the more determined to make her place here. Which meant keeping her mind on her job.
No distractions.
No Seamus.
Sighing, she poured water from the pitcher in the waiting room into a small glass and headed back to hand the glass to a now-fraught looking Mrs. Lillimer.
A warmth filled her, and she knelt before the woman, grasping her hand once more.
“I know you are in pain, Mrs. Lillimer, but I promise that Dr. Bartlett will take great care of you. I know we couldn’t help with the pain at your first appointment, but the doctor assured me it was because he believes that pulling the tooth should be a last resort.”
“He pull now,” the woman demanded, her pale face going flush along her cheeks.
“Mr
s. Lillimer,” Dr. Bartlett called as he walked into the exam room, a gleaming smile on his handsome face. “I do believe we can help you with that.”
Her afternoon only got busier after that, with a group of stagecoach passengers all complaining of belly aches, and a pregnant woman asking dozens of questions about her impending delivery. But Joy loved the busyness, the patients, seeing to the needs of the people who were fast becoming the large family she’d always wanted.
By the time she locked the clinic door, her feet were pounding, her back was aching, and her heart was soaring. It had been a good day, and nary a thought about Seamus. Of course, it was only four o’clock, there was still plenty of time to dwell on the man she’d only seen once and hadn’t stopped wondering about for eight days.
She grit her teeth and pushed him from her mind, again.
As she stepped off the clinic porch and into the waxing evening, Mollie waved to her from the boardwalk. Joy smiled and waved back. It had been Mollie’s day off, which was one of the reasons Joy had worked so frantically, but if anyone deserved a day to herself, it was Mollie. The woman was a steam-powered locomotive, doing whatever needed to be done, and not complaining. Ever.
“Joy! You headed back to the boarding house?” Mollie asked while slipping her arm through Joy’s.
“Actually, I am going to the room to change into something less starchy… I am helping with the party planning again tonight. Once the ladies heard I’d been to so many parties in San Francisco, they begged me to share some ideas with them.” During one of Tilly’s visits to the clinic that week, she’d stopped to chat with Joy, and the subject of Christmas parties inevitably rose. “Ray invited me out to her house for dinner. Said her mother’s roast and potatoes would ‘make me spin myself silly’—whatever that means.”
Mollie giggled. “Oh Joy, I am so glad you’re helping those wonderful ladies plan the very first town Christmas Cotillion! I just know it is going to beat all of those boring parties we were forced to attend.”
Like Joy, Mollie had come from a prominent family, but one that whole-heartedly supported her desire to be a nurse, to help people when they were at their lowest. While Joy’s parents loved her, her father hadn’t wanted her to be a nurse, he wanted her to marry some society buck and be the pointless wife doing pointless things. To her father, there was no greater honor for his daughter than to marry into an American dynasty. And when her father died, leaving her a sizable inheritance, she’d battled the desire to do as her father would have wanted; use that money as bait to lure in a husband, one who didn’t need her money as much as see her money as her worth to him. But something her mother said had set her down a path going the opposite direction.
“Do what you want to do, love.”
Which was nearly in direct opposition to what her father had told her when she so adamantly begged to attend nursing school.
“Joy Luck, you were meant for greater things. You can be a good wife, or you can be a nurse. One or the other.” One or the other. The twain were as disparate as butter and silk. So, she happily chose the latter. And she hadn’t regretted a moment of it.
Drawn back to her conversation with Mollie by Mollie’s twittering giggle, Joy looked in the direction of Mollie’s gaze and saw a dashing man exiting the sweets shop. He was dressed in finery from top to toes, and was carrying a large bag, into which he was staring with utter focus.
“That’s Bertram Major,” Mollie whispered loudly. “He’s the son of a land owner in Laredo, and he comes into Dry Bayou every few weeks for business.”
Grinning, Joy peered at her friend, who was turning pink. “And you…like Mr. Major?”
Mollie nodded, her face growing pinker. “He is so handsome, isn’t he? And he loves candy just about as much as I do.”
“When did you meet him?”
“Several months back. He came into the clinic with a bad case of poison ivy.” Mollie giggled. “He was red all over and looked about as adorable as could be.”
Joy chuckled. “Well, run on over to him. We can talk more about it later. I need to get to Dry Bayou Ranch.” Ray had offered to come into town and fetch her, but Joy politely declined. She used to love riding—had spent hours at a small equestrian club when she was younger—and she wanted to opportunity to feel the power of a horse beneath her, once again. According to Ray, her house was only fifteen minutes outside the town limits. And since Joy was an accomplished horsewoman, she was confident in her ability to get there without mishap.
It took her less than ten minutes to change into a cotton dress with a woolen shawl, and another ten minutes to reach the livery and make her way out of town. The way was well trodden, and just as she reached a fence line the lead to a main drive, she saw a large white house on a hill. Green hills dotted with horses, and flat plains dotted with sheep. It was certainly a large and prosperous ranch.
As she trotted the horse up the drive, she could see Ray exiting the house and walking toward her. She pulled the horse to a stop and Ray held the reins while Joy dismounted.
“Welcome to Dry Bayou Ranch,” Ray greeted her.
Before Joy could respond, Ray enveloped her in a tight hug, squeezing, shaking her, and then letting go. Ray stepped back and Joy could feel the warmth spread through her face. She’d never been hugged quite so…aggressively before. She liked it. It was so Ray.
“You look like you were born in the saddle,” Ray remarked, grinning.
Joy laughed. “I might be a city girl, but I loved the riding lessons my mother insisted I be allowed to take.”
“Your mother sounds like a smart woman.”
Her mother was a brilliant woman; her ability to plan and execute large social gatherings had always boggled Joy’s mind. But she’d watched and learned, and she hoped all she learned could be put to use for Dry Bayou.
“She is,” Joy finally replied.
“Come on in, my Ma has been cookin’ up a storm. She lives in a house about a quarter mile from here, but she comes to cook for me when I need a hearty meal. Billy’s ma and pa are away on business, so I get the less frilly meals when they’re gone. I prefer potatoes to paté—blech. Can’t stand the stuff.” Ray lead Joy into the house, which was large and comfortably appointed. But it wasn’t the furniture that stole her attention. It was the large man standing in the middle of room, his intense hazel eyes pinned to her, his large hands twisting together in front of him. He was the picture of nervousness framed in muscles.
Seamus.
Ray cleared her throat, motioning Joy forward. “Take a seat, dinner’ll be done in a tick and we can get to eatin’.” Joy didn’t see Ray leave, she could only see Seamus, his shy smile making her insides pool in her belly.
Seamus took a step forward before burying his immense hands in the pockets of his trousers, which were pressed and clean and looked tailor-made for his large, thick legs.
Lord Almighty, he must spend a fortune on fabric.
“Miss Song,” Seamus said, her name on his lips made that pool in her belly waver like a rock had been dropped into it. “Take a seat, please.” He nodded toward a large upholstered chair just beside the stone fireplace, where a small fire was crackling away. It looked cozy, welcoming.
With a nod and the flutter of a smile, she took a seat, clasping her hands in her lap.
Why did her palms feel wet? And why did her neck feel so warm?
Seamus lowered himself into the chair opposite hers, the chair groaning under his weight but not giving out. Even in the big chair, the man was imposing, but…there was a gentleness about him that belied his size. Like a mountain made of down pillows.
Say something, you ninny!
“Seamus…” What to say? “You look well. How is the wound?” Good. Keep it professional. You were his nurse, nothing more…even though he looks at you like you are so much more than that.
“Thank ye, it is healin’ well, as it should. Hank knows his way around a needle—must’ve learned it from Tilly,” he said, his lips curling u
p into a soft smile. One that made her stare. He had a delicious smile. It transformed his face from handsome to downright devastating.
Stop thinking about his smile!
Inwardly shaking herself, she offered him a smile in return. “I’ve seen Tilly’s dresses, but I cannot imagine Dr. Bartlett tying a suture with a chain stitch.”
Seamus threw back his head and laughed, a booming laugh that seemed to rattle the house. It certainly rattled her.
“Goodness. I didn’t think it was that funny,” she remarked, biting back a grin. She would not find him charming. She would not!
He dropped his gaze to look at her, his eyes glittering with mirth, his smile full. Thoughts escaped her brain. What was she saying again? Oh, right. Do not find him charming!
Blast!
“Ye are a wit, Miss Song—”
“Joy,” she blurted, her thoughts still absent, apparently.
Seamus’s gaze darkened, his smile faltering just enough that it appeared more…predatory. She shuddered.
“Joy…” His deep voice carried her name on a husky whisper. She swallowed to keep from shuddering again. “I had thought tae thank ye, for helpin’ me that day at the clinic, but when I was leavin’…I couldna find ye.”
Because I was hiding. No. She hadn’t been hiding, she’d been cataloging the supplies in the supply closet down the hall. With the door shut.
“Well, I had a busy day that day.” Busy thinking about the intense man with the gash in his side. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
He shook his head. “Ye dinna upset me, lass. I only wanted tae see ye again, tae thank ye…”
There was more he wanted to say, she could hear it in the way he held his breath.
A Joyful Song: A Dry Bayou Brides Christmas Novella Page 4