"Yes, ma'am," Kit answered. After a moment, she returned and said, "All right, I'm ready."
The doctor took hold of Miranda's feet, when Neil said, "It's all right, I have her." Then he gingerly scooped her up and carefully carried her to the prepared bed. Victoria rushed ahead and held the blanket bolster in position while Kit held the bed clothes back.
And as soon as the patient was settled in the bed at the angle Victoria wanted, and Kit had covered her, Neil said, "You need to go rest."
"Yes, but first," she answered, as she returned to the room, "thank you all for your help. And, thank you for the lamps. You can't imagine how helpful they were. I couldn't have done this without you all."
Ma, Meg, and the others murmured 'you're welcomes' and expressed their well wishes, before they filed out. Once the door closed behind the last person, Victoria sank into a chair.
Kit stepped in and set a cup of tea down in front of her and said, "I thought you could use this. I'm not that hungry right now and am more than willing to wait to eat. But—"
"No," the doctor said insistently.
"But..." Kit began again, "I believe it would be better if I went and got some food for Jake and me and brought it back here for us to eat. Then, you two can go have a leisurely dinner and try to relax."
Neil jumped in, agreeing, "I absolutely agree. Thank you, Kit."
Victoria took a sip of her steaming tea and sighed appreciatively. "All right. You are both probably right."
*****
Miranda's arm and side ached, but she felt strangely warm, and light, and drowsy. And, her eyelids felt heavy, very heavy. So heavy, in fact, she didn't even want to open her eyes. However, she felt stiff, but when she tried to move, a burning pain shot through her. So she remained still and tried to figure out where she was; and, how she'd gotten there.
As her mind cleared, she was aware that she was in a bed, which seemed strange. What she found even more confusing was she didn't believe she was dressed, not even in a nightgown.
And someone was holding her hand.
She concentrated on forcing her eyes open.
But, even before she got them open, a deep, masculine voice inquired in a peeved voice, "What in heaven's name were you thinking?"
"What... thinking about what?" she asked.
"I asked what you were thinking," Jake repeated.
"Jake? Jake, are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"What happened? I know you were hurt. I think Gallagher shot at me, and I believe I shot back. But I can't remember exactly what happened. Nothing after we got you into the wagon." She looked at him, intently, and repeated, "Are you are right?"
Scowling, Jake said, "Don't change the subject. I'm fine." He squeezed her hand before he continued, "Gallagher shot you, with a shotgun," he answered. And, she could hear the fear and frustration in his voice. "You should have left me where I was and driven straight here. You should never have wasted time and energy getting me into the wagon."
"But," Miranda argued, "you were hurt. Kathy thought you might even be dead. But I didn't... I didn't know for sure. Besides, Gallagher still had his gun, and we didn't know if he was dead, badly injured, or merely stunned."
"Why didn't you just take his gun away?"
"Because neither one of us thought of it. You were unconscious, Kathy and Jacob had been threatened, and I was not only shot at, but possibly killed a man.
"I did what I thought was best as the time."
"I would much rather you had taken a chance with my life, rather than your own."
She struggled to turn more, but he jumped up, and cried out, "No! You must stay as still as you can. If you move around, they'll bind your arm to a slat of wood."
"What? Why?"
"Because you were seriously wounded. Luckily it was bird shot. If Gallagher's gun had been loaded with buck shot, you'd probably be dead. As it was, they spent hours picking the pellets out of your arm, side, and hip. But, it's your upper arm that's really bad.
"And, it mightn't be as serious, if you hadn't wasted your time and energy getting me into the wagon. You should have left me where I was and come straight into town."
"Jake, I couldn't do that to you. You were hurt because of me! Of course, I would not leave you behind."
"I'd have been much happier if you just left me!"
"But, why?"
"Miranda," Jake said, in a soft voice, as he squeezed her hand gently. "Do I really have to tell you?"
"What... what do you mean?"
"Miranda, everyone else sees it. Everyone else knows. Why can't you?"
"Know what?"
But when Victoria suddenly appeared at the door, Jake jumped up, saying, "I'll leave you ladies alone." And left.
*****
Victoria waited until Jake shut the door behind him, then she smiled at Miranda and asked, "So, did you two have a nice chat?"
"Not really. He seemed angry at me because I brought him into town. Would he have preferred Kathy and I left him to die... killed by that... that awful man?"
"No, not exactly," the doctor answered in a soft voice. "He is upset you put your safety over his. And..."
"What?"
"And he... he wishes you would understand how much he cares about you."
"What?"
"You heard me perfectly. He cares for you. He has for months and months."
"No," Miranda said, shaking her head, insistently. "It's Colleen he cares about."
"No!" Victoria answered, sharply. "It's never been Colleen, or anyone else. It's you he's been flirting with since he first met you. Well, at least he's been trying to. Even if you never realized it.
"And perhaps what he finds even more perplexing is that everyone else sees it. I do believe that's what he finds most frustrating, the fact that everyone in town realizes how he feels about you, except you."
"Oh," Miranda groaned. "That's why he seemed upset, even disappointed, in me. But, I didn't know. I honestly didn't realize it..."
"Well, now you do!" the doctor said firmly, as she tossed the sheet off Miranda's left side. "So at least speak to him about it." Then giving her a sly look, she added, "Although, I suppose I could force the situation."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's been sitting beside your bed, day and night, holding your hand."
"And..."
"It's just that whether you realize it or not, you're as naked as the day you were born, beneath this sheet.
"Seventy-five—even fifty-years ago, you would have been compelled to marry him, since he has virtually compromised your honor."
"Oh, please!" Miranda exclaimed. "Seventy-five years ago you couldn't be a physician. Besides, I'm sure we were more than adequately chaperoned at all times. Especially, since I'm sure our resident judge, jury, and executioner has always been close by."
"Not so very close, anymore."
"You can't mean that my tirade actually made him rethink his ways."
Victoria let out a low laugh as she removed a pad of gauze from her side. "Ah... no! But, apparently a number of town folk have... reassessed their behavior." She didn't wait for Miranda to ask anything else. But, changed the subject and said, "Your hip is very nearly healed, and your side is looking well."
She reached up and removed the bandages from Miranda's shoulder and frowned. "However, I wish this was looking a bit better. Still, you only had a touch of fever. Which," she looked into Miranda's eyes, before she ended, with a grin, "Jake caught, even before I did."
"How is that possible?"
"As I just told you, if he's been awake, he's been sitting in that chair, holding your hand."
Miranda let out a soft gasp before lapsing into an uncomfortable silence.
*****
"The doctor told me that she told you how I feel about you. So, how do you feel about that? I mean, does it upset you? Do you find me unpleasant or untrustworthy? Or, perhaps, unattractive?"
"No, not at all. You know I trust you. And, y
ou are congenial and quite handsome. But, what about Colleen?"
"I like her, as a friend. Even she knows it's you I care about. It's you I come into the house to see, to talk to."
"But Colleen is young, she's... ."
"Miranda, you aren't old."
"I'm too old for you."
"How old are you? Twenty-six, or twenty-seven?"
"I'm nearly twenty-eight."
"Do I look like I'm still a child?" Jake asked, but he was smiling.
Miranda had never noticed what a nice smile it was. But still... "No... of course not. It's just—"
"I turned twenty-seven my last birthday. That's not too young, now is it? There's not even a full year between us."
"No, I suppose I'm not too old, or you too young. But..."
"What? What obstacle are you going to throw up now to keep me from courting you?" he asked, but he was still smiling.
"I'm a widow."
"So? That doesn't mean you can't marry again."
"You don't want to marry me. You need to marry a young woman."
"Why? I mean, we've just established we're of a comparable age."
"Why what?"
"Why do I need a 'young' woman to marry?"
"Because you should marry a... a younger woman."
"I repeat, why?"
"Because... you... just should," she insisted.
"And, I repeat, again, why?"
"Because—"
"Don't say 'because' as if it's a viable reason. I like you."
"Why are you telling me all this now?"
"Because I'd like to at least be given the chance to find out whether we'd suit."
"But," Miranda said softly, "I'm not... I've been..."
"You mean you are a woman and not an untried girl?"
"Well... ah no... that's not what I meant, exactly."
"I think it is. I think that's just what you meant. I think that you are worrying because you aren't an innocent virgin anymore."
"Jake..." Miranda began, before falling into more silence.
"Miranda, lots of men marry widows, and even more marry women that aren't innocent maidens at the time of their marriages.
"Now what's your next argument?"
"Even if we are of a similar age, you're a young man who will want children."
"Yes."
"Then why waste your time courting me? I'm no longer alone. I have two teenagers and two infants. You don't want to be saddled with all that."
"Who says I don't? Besides, don't you think I've spent enough time with all of you to know just what I would be getting myself into?"
"But—" Miranda began. However, Jake cut her off by kissing her. It was a soft, sweet, gentle kiss. And, to her surprise, Miranda found it wonderful.
Chapter Thirty-Six
"Now, remember," Jake told Miranda, as he settled her in a rocker on the front porch of the workshop. "You are to sit here until I come back for you. And, if you get tired, I'm sure Meg will come and find me."
"Yes, Jake. I'll remember," she answered, smiling.
Then, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, before he turned and walked down the street.
Once he was out of earshot, Meg asked, "So, how are you two doing?"
Miranda flushed red, before she answered. "Fine, I guess."
"Oh, please," Meg answered. "Even though you are still not completely recovered, you glow."
"I seriously doubt it," Miranda protested. "Besides, I still think I'm too old for him."
"Then, I suppose, you think Gus is too old for me?"
"No, of course not! Why would I?"
"Well, if you think that Victoria becoming a doctor is acceptable, you must believe in equality of the sexes."
"Yes, of course."
"So, if you believe that, yet still believe that less than a year's difference in your ages, is too much, you must think that Gus is much too old for me. After all, he's nearly ten years older than I am."
"But... that's differ—," Miranda began, before Meg cut her off.
"Don't you dare say 'that's different', because you'll be going dangerously near Reverend Wright's restricted point of view."
"Oh..." Miranda whispered. Then she added, "Although, I do think that was a bit low, for a friend."
"But, isn't it the same thing? If it shouldn't matter whether someone is a man or woman to become a physician—or anything else—for that matter. And, it doesn't matter that Gus is much older than I am. Just as it doesn't matter you're a few months older, or have been married before, or even that you are the guardian of two teenagers and their infants.
"Both of you are good people. And, both of you deserve to find someone to share your lives with. So, just go along with things. At least for a while.
"If you decide you can't abide Jake, I'll be the first one to stand behind you."
"You promise?"
"Yes. But, it will never come to that. Not in a million years," Meg said, with a grin.
"So, what's going to happen to me?" Miranda asked. When Meg gave her a confused look, she added, "For killing Gallagher?"
"Nothing. Frank questioned Jake and Kathy. Jake might not have realized why Gallagher was there, but he did recognize Gallagher as the one who knocked him unconscious.
"And, Kathy told him what Gallagher had said to her and what he'd do if she didn't obey him. And, how you weren't even armed when you initially told him to leave or you'd get your gun. But his response was to shoot you.
"It's a miracle you're still alive. No one understands how you managed to grab the rifle, shoot Gallagher, and still get into town, with Jake in tow, after you'd been shot."
"So, no one is upset with me?"
"Well, I didn't say that," Meg said. But when Miranda paled, she grabbed her friend's hand and continued, "I'm afraid Victoria is still miffed that she missed your rant in church. Jake is too."
"What? Why?"
"Because practically everyone else in town got to witness your performance, except for them."
"It's nothing I'm particularly proud of," Miranda told her friend in a low voice.
"Well, you should be! It was—quite—the—quite the spectacle."
"I see."
"Besides, you must have hit a lot of nerves, because since your dramatic exit, after collapsing into Gus' arms and being carried out, dripping blood, there was a lot of ah... ah... discussions about what you said and did, what Gallagher did, and especially, what the Wrights said and did."
"What do you think?"
"I think the dripping blood was the perfect touch."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it! What is the upshot?" Miranda asked. Then, when she saw her friend's smirk, she realized her unintentional and inappropriate pun. She allowed the teeniest giggle to escape before she rephrased her question, "Do you think this... ah... ongoing dialogue will make a difference? And not just for a few weeks or even months? Do the townspeople truly seem to be returning to their previously kind and understanding fellow towns' people?"
"Oh my, yes! Gus says it's like a miracle. You told them how you felt before the Wrights arrived, about the town, the people and their inexplicably extreme shift in their opinions concerning the girls and their babies.
"It's as if you held up a mirror to them and forced them to see themselves to see what they'd become!"
"So, what's going to happen? Or, at least, what do you think is going to happen?"
"That the citizens of Manchester have seen the error of their ways. Oh," Meg added, "and it turns out the Wrights aren't quite 'right' for the town."
The Manchester Women series continues with
Book Four: Moira's Pride
About Jordan Bollinger
Jordan Bollinger was born Jordan Meredith Johnson, on March 26th, 1952, in New Orleans, Louisiana. She grew up in the uptown-riverside section of the city, within walking distance of her grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. There she attended Robert E. Lee School, through fourth grade.
That summer, he
r father moved the family north, to a two-hundred year-old farmhouse in the Connecticut countryside. There, he founded a small printing company which catered to the myriad of weekly town papers. In fact, her first job was working for him as a proof-reader.
After graduating from Weston High School, in the spring of 1970, she attended the University of Connecticut. There she earned a double major in Social Studies and Secondary Education. She completed college May of 1974; and later that summer, on July 22nd, she married her high school sweetheart.
She worked as a substitute teacher, until the fall of 1977, when she secured a permanent position teaching Social Studies and Political Science at her old high school. Shortly after retiring in the spring of 1997, she decided she would be happier unmarried and filed for a divorce.
In the spirit of a new beginning, she moved to Deland, Florida. And it was there, she started taking writing classes at Stetson University. She met her second husband, Mitchell Bollinger, in one of those classes. However, after only a year of marriage, Mitchell died in a car accident, leaving her alone and at loose ends.
Once again, she picked up and moved across the country—this time west, to Tucson, Arizona. And, it was there that she began writing seriously. Today she lives just east of Tucson, in the quiet little town of Vail, with three wire-haired fox terriers and an ex-Marine.
What began as a little romance story, took on a life of its own, until it grew into her first romance series. Currently there are seven books slated for the Duty with Honor series, but the story just keeps going, so who knows.
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Miranda Takes a Stand Page 26