Datha told her that all the single women and their mothers were making fools of themselves over him, bringing endless baked offerings to attract his attention.
Judith Hawthorn had taken him an entire baked turkey last week.
A baked turkey!
Had the woman no shame?
It seemed that everyone in town, women especially, thought the doctor was superb, and that every word he spoke was true. It was exactly the sort of distorted thinking Lydia was trying to discourage.
April stopped in a couple of stores on the way home, once to look at a hat, another to consider a pair of brown shoes that would go well with her new heavy cloak.
By the time she reached home, it was well past noon and she was hungry. The house was strangely quiet this afternoon. Thinking Grandpa was asleep, or in the mortuary working, she put the fresh vegetables in a pan for Datha to wash, then went in search of him.
“Grandpa?” she called. Pushing open the screen door, she stepped onto the side porch. “Grandpa?”
The smoking porch was empty.
Going back through the house by way of the kitchen, she checked the mortuary office, even went into the dressing room. No one. Now she was concerned.
As she was walking back through the house, Datha burst in through the front door.
“Miss April!”
The girl’s hair was coming loose from tight braids, and her eyes were as big as saucers.
“Datha—what’s wrong?”
“It’s Mr. Ogden. He got sick…” She panted. “I didn’t know what to do. I took him down to Dr. Fuller. He said to come get you.”
“Dr. Fuller?”
“Yes’um. He said for you to come right now.”
April followed the young woman out the back door, her heart pounding in fear. Sick? How sick? Was it his heart, or something else? She prayed harder than she had in years. God wouldn’t take Grandpa. The town needed him—she needed him! Her heart beat in her throat and her thoughts kept pace. Why had she deceived him? Why was she a thorn in his side? Please, God, spare him. I know I’m unworthy to ask, but I’ll change—I’ll do better. Please…
By the time they reached the doctor’s office, she was out of breath and had a painful stitch in her side. Going straight past the two women seated in the waiting room, she entered the examining room after a brief knock.
Riley was lying on the examining table, his face pale and damp. Dr. Fuller bent over him, listening to his heart with a stethoscope.
“Grandpa?”
Riley raised a hand in greeting, and April took it between her own.
“He’s doing fine,” Gray said. His eyes darkened as he glanced up and recognized her.
Glowering at him, she silently warned him not to make a scene.
“What happened?”
Giving her a feeble wave, Riley smiled. “Law, they won’t let an old man rest.”
Leaning over him, April examined his ashen features. His eyes drifted shut, his mouth went slack and his breathing was shallow.
“The heat…must be getting to me today,” he whispered.
Pressing her hand to his forehead, she said quietly, “Was it another spell?”
“I…just a…weak spell,” he managed to reply. “I’ll be fine. Just need to lie down a bit. Datha got scared…”
“I’m glad she acted quickly.”
“I brought him here fast as I could,” the young woman said, hovering nearby.
“You did well, Datha. Thank you.” Stepping back, April cleared her throat. “Doctor, may I have a moment, please?”
“It’s too hot for October, that’s all this is…. I’ll be fine. I need to be home—Sadie Finley is only half-done….”
“Doctor, may we speak?”
Setting the stethoscope aside, Gray ushered her to the small dressing alcove at the other end of the examining room.
“All right, what’s happened to my grandfather?”
“First, I’d suggest you calm down—”
“I’ll calm down when I know what’s wrong with Grandpa!”
He studied her a moment as if prudently weighing his answers.
“I didn’t think you liked doctors. We’re quacks, remember? Unethical fools who don’t know the difference between a scalpel and a butter knife.”
“You don’t, as far as I’m concerned. If I had been home, I would have dosed Grandpa with herbs and put him to bed. But I wasn’t there, and Datha was, so here we are. I can hardly jerk him off the examining table and take him home, so we’ll just pretend I go along with your diagnosis.”
Crossing his arms, he stared at her. “But you don’t. You know more than I do when it comes to the heart.”
“Not more, but probably as much.”
“Fortunately, most sane people don’t agree with you.”
“Are you saying I’m not sane?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“That’s wise, because most people haven’t had the experience I have with the egos of the medical community.”
He stiffened. “Miss…?”
“Truitt. April Truitt. Riley’s granddaughter.”
“I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.”
Stepping closer, she seethed. “You know perfectly well who I am. You told Grandpa about me selling the compound with Mrs. Pinkham, and don’t deny it. Because of you, I can’t sell it anymore!”
His eyes turned glacial. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I haven’t said a word to your grandpa about your activities with the Pinkham woman. How could I? I didn’t know who you were until five minutes ago!”
April rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Oh, really, Dr. Fuller.”
He met her defiant tone and matched it. “Yes, really, Miss Truitt. I don’t give a fig what you do—got that?”
“Dr. Fuller.” She drew herself upright, facing him. “I may not like it that my grandfather is here, but I trust you to do the best you know how—”
“Meaning you think someone else could do better?”
“Meaning that I want to know what’s wrong with him.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll determine what course of action to take.”
After shooting her an angry glance, he studied his notes. “Your grandfather has a heart problem. Today’s episode may have been an attack, or it may have just been a warning. In any event, he needs rest. I’ll want to observe him.”
“For how long?”
“At least through the afternoon.”
April was against leaving him here, but she supposed she must. If she caused a scene, it would upset Riley more. The extra time would give her the opportunity to consult with Mrs. Pinkham and old Mrs. Blake as to what herbal treatment would be most beneficial for him.
Meeting his eyes, April whispered ominously, “I’ll be back for him late this afternoon.”
Gray’s face tightened. “And I’ll release him as soon as I feel confident it’s safe.”
Did he actually think he could take that tone with her?
Apparently he did.
He walked off before she could call him back.
Datha was waiting for April when she stepped outside the office. “Is Mr. Ogden all right?”
“He’ll be fine,” she reassured her. “I’m glad you were there to take care of him.”
“I was so scared,” Datha admitted, her shoulders slumping in relief.
“The doctor wants to observe him for a little while, but he’ll be back home by this evening.”
“I’m so glad.”
It was nearing four o’clock when April returned. Gray was standing in the doorway of the examining room, studying the tall vase Francesca had purchased for the waiting room. No matter where he put it, it didn’t look right.
When he heard the door open, he turned to greet the new arrival. His smile faded when he saw who it was.
“How is he?”
Setting the vase back in the corner, he said calmly, “He’s doing very well. Color is g
ood. He had a little soup to eat.”
“I’m doing just fine,” Riley grumbled, pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders as he emerged from the examining room. “I see you’ve met April. My granddaughter worries too much.”
“Why, Dr. Fuller knows every woman in town. Isn’t that right, Doctor,” April said in a goading tone.
“If you say so, Miss Truitt.”
Riley chuckled. “So that’s where that delicious pie came from. Some woman baked it for you.”
“Pie?” April glanced at Gray.
He shrugged, looking guilty. “He was hungry. It was less stressful to feed him than to enforce his new diet at the time.”
“He’s trying to starve me,” Riley groused.
“Don’t be in a hurry to leave,” Gray said, directing his patient back into the examining room. “I want to listen to your heart one more time.”
April started to follow, but he closed the door in her face.
Sitting down in one of the padded chairs, she leafed through a magazine, listening to the muffled sound of men’s voices behind the closed door. That was just like a doctor, thinking women didn’t “need” to be involved in medical discussions.
When she heard Riley’s laughter over some story the doctor was telling, she almost envied them their camaraderie. Dr. Fuller didn’t find anything amusing when he was with her.
Tossing the magazine aside, she studied the office, finding it not much different than it had been when Joe McFarland had it. Evidently Dr. Fuller wasn’t concerned about impressions. A vase, three feet tall, in shades of blue, purple, green and brown, didn’t seem to fit the rest of the decor. She’d seen prettier. Maybe his French friend could lend some advice on decorating. The idea disturbed April so much that she snatched up the magazine and started leafing through the pages.
Straightening, she sighed, wishing Henry would get back. Obviously, she had too much time on her hands if she was thinking about Gray Fuller’s personal life.
Her gaze returned to the closed door of the examining room as the sound of laughter drifted out again. What could Riley and the doctor find to laugh about?
Getting up, she started to pace. Finally the door of the examining room opened. Riley came out, buttoning his shirt, followed by Gray.
“Well?” April demanded, trying to decide if the flush on her grandpa’s face was from exertion or laughter.
“Your grandfather should rest for a few days. Don’t let him do anything strenuous.”
“I have a business to run,” Riley reminded him.
“Let someone else do it for a while. Your health is far more important.”
“Well, that’s nice, but I don’t have anyone who can do it. Most folks are skittish about letting someone new take care of their loved ones. I’ll be just fine,” Riley said.
“Grandpa, the doctor said rest. And that’s what you’ll do,” April said. “Beginning now. Thank you, Doctor. What do I owe you?”
His gaze swept over her and she flushed. His eyes were the most unusual shade of green. Like pictures she’d seen of the ocean, just before a storm.
“A dollar.”
She paid him, then steered Riley toward the door.
“I like that young man,” her grandfather said, as they started down the sidewalk. The spring was out of his step this afternoon. “Seems to know his business. Nice office. Fancy.”
Dr. Fuller might be a barrel of laughs, but he hadn’t given her a diagnosis of Riley’s condition. It occurred to her that he’d not said anything definitive about it, and she wondered why.
Her own heart nearly stopped with fright. Was there something seriously wrong? So bad that he didn’t want to frighten Riley by mentioning it?
Escorting her grandfather down the sidewalk, April realized she had to go back and talk to that infuriating man alone. Her gaze fell on the fancy buggy parked in front of the hotel.
If he could spare the time.
“Where’s the fire?” Riley blustered, trying to keep up with her.
“Sorry, Grandpa,” April murmured. She slowed immediately, aware that he couldn’t be rushed. She wanted to get him out of Dr. Fuller’s hands and into more competent care. Hers.
Chapter Six
After breakfast the next morning, Riley went straight to the side porch with a stack of journals and stayed there throughout the morning. Apparently he was taking the doctor’s order to rest seriously. Jimmy Peters, a neighboring teenager, agreed to help with the heavy work. Other than Sadie Finley’s service that afternoon, business was quiet.
The nagging suspicion that Dr. Fuller hadn’t told her everything wore on April’s mind. Midmorning she gave up trying to concentrate. She simply had to know if Gray Fuller thought Riley’s weak spells were getting worse. Being as he was a doctor, his opinion wasn’t of much value to her, but if she were to treat Grandpa effectively with herbal medicine, she needed to know what she was fighting.
Dropping what she was doing, she changed into a pretty, lavender cotton dress with matching hat and gloves. The change wasn’t intended for Dr. Fuller’s approval, she assured herself as she checked her hair once again in the downstairs hall mirror. She had made it a practice to look her best when she conducted business.
“I’m going out for a while,” she called to Riley as she passed the door to the side porch. “You stay right where you are until I get back.”
“What am I, a child?”
“Yes, and you’re being punished.” She laughed at his indignant growl. “Jimmy’s here if you need him.”
“I’ll be fine. Stop your fussing.”
He seemed to be himself this morning, and April was relieved. Still, she was concerned about him, and Dr. Fuller was the only person who had the answers she needed.
A brisk wind rolled off the water as April walked toward the center of town. The weather was cooler this morning. A distinct touch of fall was in the air. Low, pewter-colored clouds building in the west promised rain by evening.
Making her way along the cobbled street, April breathed in the smells of burning leaves and fresh bread from the bakery.
Tall ships crowded the port. Casks of whale oil and bundles of whalebone were piled high on the bustling piers. Not many big vessels came in this time of year, just enough to create a good business for everyone in town.
Weathered houses built seventy-five to a hundred years earlier lined the roads that intersected the main thoroughfare coming inland from the wharf. The houses were small and unassuming, with one room for cooking and dining, plus living and sleeping quarters adjacent for the husband and wife. Children and servants made do with a loft above the main room.
Toward the center of town, near the square, shop windows were filled with jewel-colored glassware, copper pans, drapes of fabric, ready-made dresses and millinery. Wonderful aromas drifted from a spice shop, exotic goods that came to Dignity from faraway places. Larger cargo ships passed by and put in at the Houston port, but many smaller ones stopped here first.
April paused at the shoemaker’s window to look at a pair of red leather boots. Henry didn’t like red, but Gray and his Frenchie friend obviously would. What better reason for April to pass up the boots?
Stepping around fresh mounds left by a flock of sheep being herded down the street in front of her, she heard the schoolhouse bell ring, and quickly moved out of the way of a young boy who was in a desperate race to make it to his seat before the last peal.
“Milk, cheese, butter. Get your fresh milk, cheese, butter churned just this morning.” A ruddy-faced farmer was making his morning rounds, hawking farm goods from a wooden cart. More than likely his wife had been up before dawn to help him milk, churn butter and wrap cheese for him to sell to the grocer, and then peddle what was left on the street. Grandfather’s profession provided a comfortable income, and when she married Henry, he, too, would provide for them well.
The sight of the doctor’s office set her heart to racing. Oh, how she dreaded facing his piercing gaze and his holier-than
-thou attitude. She hated even more the way he could start her stomach fluttering with one careless look. What did she care if the new physician was the most sought-after man in town? Henry wasn’t a troll.
Beulah’s earlier words suddenly colored the pleasant walk. Henry will never ask you to marry him.
Her best friend was wrong. April wasn’t a fool. She knew Henry had faults, but who didn’t? He would make a fine, solid family man, who would rear his children to believe and trust in the Lord. True, she’d never paid particular attention to him growing up. He’d favored the girls too much, preferring to play one against the other. But he was different now, just as she was older and more appreciative of his outgoing nature. At least he didn’t kiss women on Main Street in broad daylight. But then, Henry could use a little more spontaneity—the sort the good doctor had in abundance….
Admittedly, Henry had taken her by storm when he’d decided to court her. Unaccustomed to such undivided attention, she was caught up in the excitement of having a man like Henry openly vying for her favors. Like Beulah, April wouldn’t have thought she would be magnetized by a man with his propensity to flatter, but she was.
Too much so, she was afraid.
Dr. Fuller’s waiting room was empty when she opened the door. She could ask her questions and leave. The hum of voices coming from the examining room told her the doctor was in and busy. She stared around the place, deciding again that she liked the way it looked. Plain and functional.
She moved around the room, studying the decorations. A wooden hat rack that dated back to Joe McFarland hung on one wall. She looked at a lithograph entitled The Stag at Bay, and a picture of two children standing on a bridge over a dangerous-looking chasm, with angels hovering around them with outstretched arms. Probably came with the office. She couldn’t see a pigheaded man like Gray Fuller choosing anything so sentimental.
The ugly vase was in a corner, but somehow looking out of place.
Curious, April bent to study the piece. Three feet tall, it had an intricate pattern of crouched figures in purple and blue, entwined with ropy green and brown vines and tree branches. Noticing it was already dusty, April extracted a handkerchief from her bag and wiped the vase clean, looking closely at the small, intricate drawings that made up the design circling the base.
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