Calico Ball

by Kelly, Carla

  From that first moment he’d noticed her on Evanston’s Main Street, he’d been wildly attracted. He’d wanted to discover her name and her place among the citizens. Whose visiting sister? Was she wed?

  He’d reacted with haste and pain upon discovering her identity.

  Now he needed to know everything about her. Beliefs and perspectives on matters from amalgam to dentures, food preferences, and why she wore a new costume every time he noticed her.

  “So you agree with Dr. Miller’s microorganism theory?” She seemed braced for criticism.

  “I do.” Possibilities unspooled before him. Someone to discuss ideas with, discover solutions, develop improved practices . . .

  And so much more . . .

  “You agree?”

  “Naturally. I’ve read Lister’s work at length. With bacteria causing suppuration of wounds and surgical incisions, the success of his antiseptic technique—this school of thought makes sense.”

  “Dr. Merritt . . .” She tugged her gloves on more snuggly, shifting in her seat with restless energy. “I’m thrilled to discover your beliefs are much like my own.”

  “Likewise.”

  She slid him a knowing look.

  He grinned.

  How unfortunate that he’d lost the previous eleven or twelve months, when he might have had the association of Dr. Isabella Pattison’s sharp mind.

  She returned his smile. Warm and open and genuine. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  This woman’s smile transformed her from lovely to dazzling.

  He turned back to the path ahead, his senses attuned to the music of nature: the rushing melody of water over rocks in the riverbed and the wind singing over the plain.

  The wagon seat, barely large enough for two, put her person in close quarters. The wagon rocked frequently, the back-and-forth motion brushing her shoulder and thigh against him. Often.

  “You’re doing a good thing in Almy.” Her tone underscored her sincerity. “Mrs. Nye told me what you’ve done for the coal miners and their families these past five years. And how you persisted until they accepted your services.”

  How had he once thought Isabella and Lenora too much alike?

  Beyond gender and choice of careers, what had they in common?

  Not once had Lenora understood his reasons. She would not have approved of his determination to help . . . nor his choice to give away services that should’ve netted a tidy income.

  Perhaps that’s why he’d kept his Almy visits a secret. If no one knew, he’d not take the brunt of their criticism.

  He fiddled with the reins, uncomfortable with Dr. Pattison’s praise.

  Her little hand, gloved in brown calfskin, settled upon his. He shouldn’t be able to sense her heat between their mismatched gloves, but he did.

  She squeezed, rested there for a long moment, perhaps the space of ten seconds. She released him far too soon.

  The oddest warmth expanded in his chest.

  Soil slipped beneath his proverbial feet, giving way in an alarming rush.

  Now here he stood, again, on the cusp of repeating that greatest mistake of his life.

  He must not fall for the wrong kind of woman, not ever again.

  Isabella bit into a crisp apple, savoring the sweet-tart flavor. Late April sunshine heated her back through her many layers of clothing as she strolled, slowly, in the direction of the office.

  Restlessness nipped at her heels.

  If someone had warned her, on the eve prior to Easter Sunday, that her life would change so significantly, she’d have scoffed.

  Until Dr. Merritt, she could have held her life’s significant detours in a thimble.

  Two and one-half weeks.

  Three Sundays in Almy and three Monday-morning return drives.

  Hours of invigorating conversation.

  Given where they’d begun—with him unwilling to acknowledge her on the street nor make her acquaintance—they’d somehow become esteemed friends. At ease, laughing and talking about science and shared challenges.

  Never had she made the acquaintance of a man who claimed her awareness so completely. Never before had she wanted more than friendship.

  She nipped off the last good bit of apple and fed the core to a patient mare tied at the hitching post before Davidson’s Drugs.

  The drugstore’s doors stood open wide, welcoming fresh air and warming temperatures. A paperboard sign hung on the window’s frame, swinging gently in the breeze.

  Premium Office for Rent.

  A calligraphic arrow pointed up.

  Up?

  She tipped her head back and discovered a matching sign in the second-story window.

  Between the pharmacy and a merchant tailor shop, a door opened to an interior staircase, smelling of fresh paint. Natural light entered the stairwell from windows at both top and bottom.

  Satisfactory accommodations couldn’t preclude wishing, right?

  Midday sunlight spilled through four tall southwest facing windows and illuminated the grand room with its high ceilings and new hardwood floors. The space smelled of fresh plaster, sawdust, varnish, and paint. The workmen must’ve left a window or two open to clear the air, because a fresh breeze teased fine hairs at her temple.

  A washroom in back provided running water and indoor facilities.

  With ease, she imagined her chair and footrest, dental cabinet, and drill in this palatial space . . . filling less than half.

  If Dr. Henry Merritt joined her . . .

  Their Sunday forays north were filled with stimulating conversation, insightful questions, and a budding friendship.

  The best parts of her Sundays and Monday mornings could easily become the best parts of her weekdays.

  She really should lock away her affectionate feelings for the man—a remarkable fellow who’d make some lady a wonderful, faithful husband.

  Not her, naturally. Never her.

  Their friendship and working relationship was based on mutual appreciation of intellect.

  Their Almy runs were the furthest thing from a courting ride as could possibly be.

  She had no business wanting more.

  But . . . what if?

  What if they could have more, be more?

  She turned from the sunlit space. At the bottom of the stairs, she shut the exterior door with a smart snap.

  If she were prudent, she’d halt this nonsense, immediately. Before she ended up on the fast train to heartbreak.

  The same mare who’d shared the apple tossed her head and whinnied.

  “No more apple, girl.” The horse’s muzzle was warm velvet beneath her hand. “Though I understand you’d like more.”

  Longing tugged her view upward. From here, the screen on the open window was visible. Funny, she hadn’t noticed that convenience from inside the room.

  Perhaps a different perspective was all she’d needed.

  The many hours in Dr. Merritt’s company had given her that new perspective. He’d awakened much more than a desire for intellectually challenging conversation.

  She wanted more. Easy to admit, at least to herself.

  Somehow, in the space of five minutes, she’d made a decision. Perhaps several.

  She wanted to work alongside Dr. Merritt and spend more time with him. That meant she wanted the rental.

  With one last pat on the mare’s muzzle, she whispered, “Thank you, lady, for your fine advice.”

  Inside the pharmacy, she made her wishes known, and paid for the first three months.

  Now to inform her patients of her new address, and to invite Dr. Merritt to join her there.

  In six short days, April would come to a close. He closed his eyes against the inevitable.

  Bells tinkled above his office door. He turned, surprised to see Isabella. Black piping adorned her fawn-colored wool suit. Black buttons marched along the edge of her asymmetrical jacket. Stark lines emphasized her feminine figure.

  “Dr. Pattison.” He rose, delighted by the
surprise visit. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I believe I left my kit in your wagon last Monday morning.”

  “My apologies. Yes.” He’d forgotten it—but not her. “Your dental kit.”

  She held the instruments in gloved hands. Tassels on her reticule swayed. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No, ma’am. I’ve been reading.” The Chieftain lay open on his desk, the promising advertisements circled with red pencil.

  Her scrutiny touched the paper.

  Maybe she wouldn’t see the neat stack of unpaid bills, nor the tell-tale newsprint.

  Especially if he misdirected. “Did you see the article about the progress of our pavilion, built under the direction of the Council of City Professionals? Our city engineer and county bridge builder have done fine work, according to The Chieftain.”

  “I did see that notice.”

  “Very good. I understand they’re on schedule to complete with plenty of time to spare before the celebration events scheduled there.”

  She nodded, evidently willing to allow the topic to conclude. Confidence squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’ve a matter I’d like to discuss.”

  Sweet, dainty violets teased his senses. The fragrance suited her.

  “Will you sit?” He gestured to chairs once used for waiting customers.

  “I thought we might walk, enjoy the fresh air, and discuss my proposal over a meal.”

  On cue, his belly grumbled.

  She chuckled. “I see your stomach approves.”

  “I have a box lunch Mrs. Linden sent.”

  “Your landlady.”

  “Yes. You know the Lindens?” Had they defected to the sunny lady dentist?

  “Can’t say I do.” She watched him for a second or two. “Dr. Merritt, you are an enigma.”

  “You unearthed my greatest secret. What more could there be?”

  “I suspect you hide many more layers.” Delight winked in her eyes. “You board with the Lindens, four blocks from here. Mr. Linden is employed by Union Pacific, and they rent a small home.”

  She’d graciously avoided mentioning the poor rent district and the undesirable neighborhood. “True.”

  “I’m curious to comprehend why you spend a large portion of your income for Almy residents. I’ve thought of little else.”

  She’d thought of him, all week? Should this please him or cause him anxiety?

  “Perhaps it’s time I state my business.”

  “Yes.” He could handle business.

  “Our shared experiences these past Sundays have brought another joint venture to mind. Are you aware of the newly finished rooms above Davidson’s Drugs?”

  He’d seen the ad, but immediately passed by. He managed a nod.

  “I visited that sunlit, airy space—too large for me, alone. I considered . . . Will you join me?”

  “Join—” his heart bolted—“you?” Lightheaded, he grasped the back of a chair. “Please, sit.”

  She perched on the front edge of a chair.

  He spun his chair to face her, ensuring several inches between them.

  “We’ll maintain our own businesses,” she said, “within the same room. We’ll enjoy working side by side.”

  Her words sketched an appealing scene.

  “You truly would be a great help.”

  That made no sense, and he nearly told her so. Manners, Henry. “To be blunt, Dr. Pattison, I can no longer afford these accommodations.” The admission stung his pride. “If I cannot afford this, how will I afford fifty percent of the most attractive retail space in Evanston?”

  She scooted closer to the edge of the chair. “I have more patients than I can comfortably see. I’m hoping that by bringing a second dentist into my—no, I’ve misspoken. Separate businesses—” she waved a gloved hand, as if to erase her words—“same office.”

  “Many of my former patients, I believe, now see you. They’ve made their choice.”

  “Allow me to speak freely.” Her cheeks pinked, and for the first time, uncertainty flitted through her expressive eyes. “Women and their children have flocked to me, and that can be explained. My problem lies in the single men, of which this town has an excess—”

  The picture came into sharp focus.

  “—who assume familiarities. Their behavior has become wholly inappropriate, as they recline in the dental chair and I lean near.” She trembled. “As required of a dentist.”

  His desire to protect her warred with his determination to protect himself.

  She straightened her spine. “If we worked alongside one another, you might take some of those men as your patients. If they remain mine, I doubt they’ll make inappropriate remarks in your presence.”

  Simpler solutions existed. “Why not hire a secretary with a firm hand to safeguard you? He’d prevent inappropriate behavior.”

  “Why, indeed?” She held his eye for several long moments, and seemed to debate revealing more.

  Had she endured something so significant that she’d invite more gossip?

  She twisted her reticule cords. “I couldn’t find a single dentist in Los Angeles who would accept me as a partner in their practice. Or in San Francisco. Or Salt Lake City.”

  Her pain pierced his conflicted heart.

  “Nor would any, not even newcomers to our profession, consider working in the same building—keeping our accounts and businesses wholly apart.”

  Precisely the arrangement she’d offered him.

  Like so many others, he’d declined.

  The awareness brought shame in wagon loads. “A man has his pride.”

  “Perhaps. But you’re not like the others.”

  Her compliment added to his guilt. Wouldn’t a gentleman have been quick to help, rather than hold fast to selfish reasons to keep his distance? “I believe I’m quite common.”

  “You’re most uncommon, Dr. Merritt. I suspect I’ve discovered your motivation for providing a dental dispensary.”

  “Oh? Let’s see how close you come to the truth.”

  “You grew up in a mining town. You witnessed depravity and how few hours miners have outside their shifts, and determined to bring dentistry to them.”

  True, he never charged for his services. Or materials. Or medicines.

  “You’re partly correct.” He’d grown accustomed to hiding his past. Why did he want to confide in Dr. Pattison?

  Cocooned as they were in his little storefront, the outside noises of passing wagons and a train whistle in the distance seemed muted.

  She waited, curiosity lustrous in her eyes. She leaned nearer. “Oh?”

  “I’m descended from a long line of coal miners, first in England, then in the United States.”

  He’d disclosed less to Lenora, and she’d immediately silenced him.

  Instead of disgust, Dr. Pattison nodded with certainty. “You help because you know.”

  Partly. His reasons ran deep. “Dad enlisted, alongside every patriotic man in Penn. I was born while he fought for the Union.” Still, no balking. “He lost his dominant arm, but he returned to the mines after the war.”

  “Your father is a fine man.”

  “Was.”

  She nodded. Gentleness filled her expression. “Please continue.”

  How much did he trust Isabella Pattison?

  “My mother worked herself into an early grave. She cleaned houses for the rich, gardened every inch of soil possible, took in laundry . . .”

  Sweet understanding shone in her eyes.

  No pity, or he’d have halted.

  He leaned his elbows upon his knees and his face in his hands. “My brother was killed in a cave-in at age fourteen.” He managed to avoid emotion.

  To acknowledge his heritage, and his brother, felt . . . freeing. Lenora hadn’t allowed him to remember with her.

  In sharp contrast, Dr. Pattison waited, showing no glimmer of discomfort.

  “Dad determined I’d make something of myself. He sent me to Phill
y to dental college, where I worked the docks every minute I wasn’t in lectures. I found a willing supporter or two. I repaid every dime.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Crushed by falling rock six months before commencement.”

  One, two, three counts to the inhale. Slow exhale.

  Years had passed. Would more time heal the pain?

  Fabric rustled as she leaned nearer, bringing the scent of springtime and violets. Her hand settled on his shoulder and soothed. He hesitated to move, for fear she’d come to herself and pull away.

  “Your father’s greatest wish was to free you from the mines. He succeeded.”

  “Yes.” His voice cracked.

  “I assumed wrong,” she said, after moments passed. “Your motivation for donating so much in Almy is far more honorable.”

  He shrugged.

  “Your work honors your parents’ and brother’s memory. They would be proud of you, Henry Merritt.” She whispered, her words intimate. “I am proud of you.”

  Those five little words tiptoed past his defenses and settled dangerously close to his heart.

  He’d needed the reminder. The story of who he’d been, where he’d come from, and all he’d overcome made him a man engulfed by acute loneliness. And a plan to ensure he’d fill that greatest desire in the right way, and at the right time.

  Years ago, he’d made a grab for a real home and a place to belong. The try had ended badly. He’d come to understand that the best way to honor his parents’ sacrifice would be to ensure his own children were raised in a real home, with a mother who wasn’t forced to sacrifice everything . . .

  Who but Isabella Pattison could have shown him the honor in his past?

  Slowly, he scrubbed his eyes, relieved to find them dry, and sat back.

  “Forgive my selfishness.” Her voice returned to normal volume. “I simply must insist. I need to work with you on Sundays in Almy, and I need you to work with me in Evanston.”

  How could he refuse her, after all she’d confessed?

  “As you provide transportation to Almy, I will pay our rent.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Consider it payment for your protection.”

  “That’s absurd.”