He yanked his hand away from her touch. “How can you say that? I wronged you more than anyone. My actions during the war are unforgivable. When I look at you…” his voice trailed off.
Zoe inhaled sharply as understanding dawned. She was the reason his nightmares had returned so vehemently. Her presence in Fort Benton was a constant reminder of the evils he wished to forget. “You can’t dwell in the past, Clark, and you can’t run away from it. All you can do is move forward.”
“I’ve tried. I finished medical school, I came all the way to Montana to start over.”
“You’ll never be able to start over until you learn to forgive yourself.”
“How? How can you tell me to forgive myself?” He yanked his hand from her grasp. “You’ve scorned me almost every day since your arrival. I’m beyond redemption. You could never forgive me.”
“I do forgive you, Clark,” the words poured from her, filling her with warmth and contentment.
He looked to her in disbelief.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
He stared at her wordlessly.
“I see the man who saved my life today,” she slid closer to him on the bed, and clasped his big hand with hers once again. “I see the man who stops to help every patient that needs him without question. I’ve seen you leave to deliver babies or sit at the bedside of a dying old woman at all hours of the day or night. Never once have I heard you complain.”
He shrugged. “It’s my job.”
“It’s because you’re a good man.” She leaned forward and graced the fingers of her free hand over the scar behind his eye. “If I see that, surely you can too.”
Clark stared at her, his dark eyes almost black in the meager light, his expression unreadable.
“You are more than the sum of your worst day, Clark.”
He breezed the knuckles of his free hand across her cheek. “I-I think you should go, Zoe.”
It hadn’t escaped her that she’d entered the room of her employer in the dark of night, dressed in naught but her night clothes. If Mrs. Carter discovered them she’d call for the local parson and see them married before dawn.
She should leave.
But… she couldn’t tear herself away. The pain and vulnerability in his eyes… he needed her. Right now he needed her as she’d needed him earlier in the day. He’d rescued her, put himself in danger for her, he’d cared for her… it had been so long since anyone had taken care of her. Tonight, she wanted to take care of him. “Not until you tell me who Joey is.”
~*~
Clark must be dreaming. No other explanation could exist for the surreal situation transpiring in his bedroom.
Zoe perched on his bed swathed in a simple white nightgown and a rose hued shawl. The length of her soft chocolate curls cascaded over one shoulder. The lone candle flame lent her smooth skin a warm golden hue, and her eyes… oh those pale blue eyes positively glittered... Her ethereal beauty captivated him. And not only was Zoe in his room and on his bed, but she’d forgiven him.
None of this could be real.
“I’ll tell you what,” Zoe said sliding off of the bed but keeping hold of his hand. Let’s go downstairs. We can start a fire, and make a pot of tea. Then we’ll talk.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was beautiful, an angel, and for the first time in a long time hope sparked inside him. Hope that he might find a measure of happiness again. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
She cast him a dubious look. “Come with me.” She tugged his hand.
He glanced down at the blankets covering his hips and waist. “I, uh, need to get dressed.”
“Oh!” Her cheeks reddened. “Of course. Forgive me.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle as she fled from the room. How would she have reacted if he’d risen from the bed in nothing but his smalls?
Fortunately, she’d left the candle. Clark threw the heavy quilt aside and quickly located a pair of trousers on the floor. He snatched a plain white shirt from the back of his chair and quickly pulled it over his head. He didn’t bother with the buttons as he swiped the candle from the bedside table and rushed out the door to join Zoe.
He found her in the parlor, kneeling before the stone hearth, preparing to start a fire. Her bare feet peaked out from beneath her nightdress.
He smiled. The girl who was perpetually cold had come downstairs without stockings for him. “I have a better idea,” he said.
She turned to him, interest sparking in her deep set blue eyes. “Do tell.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Come to my study.”
“Is it warmer in there?” She rose gracefully from the floor.
“I have a little something to warm us both,” he replied mysteriously. He entered the study and rounded the corner of his wooden desk. He popped open the top drawer and plucked a key from the bottom. He then unlocked the top door of the cabinet situated behind his desk. “I don’t suppose you like bourbon?” He grabbed a near full bottle with one hand and two tumblers with the other. He rarely indulged in spirits heavier than black coffee. “If we’re going to clear the air between us, I think we’ll both need a nip tonight.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Zoe sashayed up to the front of the desk, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I used to steal sips of my father’s bourbon. I acquired a taste for it even though my mother believed it to be a most unladylike drink.”
Clark splashed a finger into each glass and handed her one.
She accepted the drink and sat in the cushioned chair opposite his desk. She snuggled the shawl around her shoulders and curled her legs up beneath her. It made for an intimate scene. One Clark could get used to if the two of them could bridge the chasm between them. She took a small sip of bourbon, her eyes fixed on him. “Now tell me, who is Joey?”
Clark cleared his throat and glanced in to the brown liquid in his glass. “Joey was my brother.”
Empathy and knowing filled Zoe’s face. “You lost him in the war?”
Clark nodded. “I don’t know who in the army felt it was a good idea for brothers and families to serve together, but Joe and I enlisted together and he served in the cavalry unit under me. He made it through the first three years of the war, even survived a coral snake bite.”
Zoe’s eyes widened in shock. “My goodness, that is mighty lucky.”
“Joe was the luckiest man I ever knew. I took that for granted. Took him for granted I suppose.” Clark twirled his tumbler. “I remember when we were being transported south on a riverboat, and there wasn’t much to do other than play cards. Joe organized an entire poker tournament and then won it.”
“I imagine he was accused of cheating,” she said astutely.
“Naturally. But wouldn’t you know, he was the one man able to talk himself out of being thrown overboard by the men.”
Zoe smiled softly. “He sounds like a special man.”
Clark didn’t answer right away. “We were ambushed in the night one evening and Joe was shot square in the chest.” Clark cleared his throat. “He died right in front of me. I… I couldn’t believe it at first. He always seemed untouchable, larger than life, and then I had to put him in the ground in Mississippi.”
“Mississippi,” she murmured. “You lost him right before we met,” it was a statement not a question.
“I did,” he whispered voice hoarse. He took a swig of bourbon, the liquor burning back the lump rising in his throat. “I was lost without him. So angry.”
“So you burned everything in your path.”
“My commanding officers ordered absolute destruction of the south. They believed complete devastation would lead to swifter surrender.” He shrugged and sipped his bourbon. “I was blinded by grief enough to believe it.”
Zoe was quiet for a long while and Clark feared he’d said too much. “My father didn’t come home for the war either,” she said finally. “I don’t know what happened to him. At least you were wit
h Joey, you know how he died and where he is.”
Clark splashed a bit more bourbon into his tumbler. “What about your mother?”
Zoe looked into her glass. “Her health was failing before the war began. Our resources dwindled as the years passed, and it was hard to get what I needed to take care of her. After the plantation house burned we lived in one of the small cabins on the property. She passed about a year after the war.”
“Did you have any brothers or sisters?”
“My only brother died before I was born. I never knew him.”
“What of other family? Did you have anyone to turn to?”
Zoe looked away, sadness in her eyes. No.” She stared at the papers stacked on his desk for a long moment, and her eyes suddenly widened with alarm. “Where did that come from?”
Clark followed her gaze, confused. “Pardon?”
“That note. Who sent it?” She leaned forward and snatched a single sheet of paper with a creased center from the corner of the wooden surface. She opened it fully and held it before her. The page rattled in her hands.
“What is it?” He jumped up and rounded the desk to grab the page.
It seems you’re occupied. I’ll return later. You know what it’s about.
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Carter found this on the porch earlier this evening.” He shrugged. “I assumed Miss Kent left it.”
Zoe lifted eyes filled with genuine fear to him. “Miss Kent didn’t leave this note, Clark. Norman did.”
Clark’s brow furrowed. “Who the hell is Norman?”
~*~
“My cousin.” Zoe clutched the shawl protectively around her shoulders. “I never thought he’d find me in Fort Benton. He didn’t even know I’d enrolled in the nursing school.”
“Your cousin. You just said you have no other family.”
“None that I could turn to for help.” She shuddered. “He’s mad, Clark.”
“How can you be certain it’s from him?”
“There’s no mistaking his handwriting,” she said firmly. “This cryptic note is just the sort of thing he would leave.” Trembling overtook her as she thought of the last time she’d seen him. “He was never right when growing up,” she said tremulously, “but after the war he went completely insane.”
“Has he threatened you?”
“He tried to kill me.”
Clark came around the desk and pulled a chair up beside hers, brow furrowed with genuine concern. “Start at the beginning, Zoe,” he said softly. “If I’m going to help you, I need to know everything.”
Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes. “As you know, I was essentially an only child.”
Clark nodded, his eyes gentle, encouraging her to go on.”
“My father was a very successful planter and business man. He and his brother, my Uncle Wallace, owned Blye’s Bayou Plantation, but my father held the controlling share of the property. From the time I was very young, Uncle Wallace was adamant that his son Norman and I marry so that one day Norman would inherit my father’s share of the plantation. I had no interest in such a union, and neither did my parents, but Norman persisted with the notion and offered for my hand more times than I can count.”
“I don’t understand,” Clark interrupted, “If Norman’s interest in marrying you was purely financial why is he following you now? The plantation is gone, isn’t it?”
“It is gone. The land was repossessed by lenders after the war. I have nothing to show for it, but Norman is convinced that I sold the property for a tidy profit and have stolen his portion of the inheritance. He found me in Mississippi right after my mother died, and told me as much. He couldn’t be reasoned with. He demanded that I give him what was his.” She raised a hand to her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, tears splashing onto her cheek. “He was enraged, out of control. H-he tried to strangle me.” Her voice cracked on a sob, and she took a quick sip of her drink.
Clark took her hand, stroking his thumb across her fingers soothingly. “Take your time,” he murmured.
“I fought him,” she forced herself to continue. “I got away and used what little resources I had to travel north. That’s when I enrolled in the nursing school.”
Clark nodded, he seemed to be taking in all she’d confessed. “Well, this certainly explains why a woman who hates the cold relocated to the Montana Territory.”
Zoe flashed him a watery half smile and wiped the tears from her eyes.
Clark took the tumbler from her hand and set it down. “How did he find you here?”
Zoe sniffed. “I don’t know. I thought coming here would be like traveling to the moon.” She shrugged. “He must have discovered I’d studied at the nursing school.”
Clark sucked a long, contemplative breath into his lungs. “I think I know how he found you.”
Zoe cast him a dubious look.
“It must have been the same way I learned about the nursing school. Notices of the school and the names of the prospective graduates were listed in pamphlets and newspapers all over the country.”
Understanding dawned. “My god, you’re right. He must have seen my name in the ad.” She groaned, letting her face flop into her hands. “Why didn’t I change my name? I should have used a false name!”
“Zoe, It’s all right.” He leaned forward and tenderly took her face in his palm. “Look at me.”
She slowly lifted her eyes to his.
“I am not going to let him hurt you,” he said earnestly, voice husky with emotion and conviction. “Now that we know he’s here, we have the upper hand. We’ll be ready.”
Zoe nodded. “We should tell Mrs. Carter first thing in the morning.”
“I agree. She can help us to be on the look out.”
Zoe shivered and looked out the window, the shadows twisted and contorted in the light of the moon. One shadow in particular possessed the shape of a man. “Do you think he’s out there?”
Clark moved from his chair and knelt directly in front of her. He didn’t say anything. He simply placed his big hands on her waist, and Zoe wanted nothing more than to sink into the warmth and safety of his embrace. Earlier, when he’d saved her from the snake and held her in his arms, she’d felt… sheltered… protected… for the first time in years. Their eyes locked and the passions swirling in his eyes matched the chaotic emotions roiling within her.
Slowly, tentatively, Clark leaned forward and took her into his arms. Zoe knew the sudden sense of coming home. Warmth and safety washed over her, banishing the fear and chill ever present in her bones. Without hesitation she curled her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. For so long she’d had only herself to depend on. Now she’d found a haven, an anchor, in the last place she’d ever expected.
“Clark,” she whispered.
“Yes, Princess?” he whispered, his tone gentle and passionate. Tonight when he called her Princess it sounded like an endearment.
“Please don’t leave me alone tonight.”
Six
“Will you hand me that yellow flower?” Zoe pointed to the Black-eyed Susan on the far side of the table.
Mrs. Carter quickly retrieved the bloom and passed it to her.
Zoe wove the stem into the fall wreath she’d crafted, and then held it up for Mrs. Carter’s inspection. “What do you think?”
The older woman glanced up from her own project and beamed. “It’s lovely, my dear. You have a real eye for these things.”
“Decorating and entertaining was the focus of my education while growing up,” she said wryly. “Worthless skills if you ask me.”
“Not at all. Think of how lovely the church will look for the festival tonight.” Mrs. Carter narrowed her eyes mischievously. “Speaking of the festival, you and Dr. West have been inseparable lately, has he asked you to accompany him yet?”
Zoe flushed. “He’s only been staying close by in case my cousin shows up.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
Zoe did too, but she wasn’t about to
admit it to Mrs. Carter or herself. It was all so confusing. Her mounting attraction and affection for Clark kept her awake at night even more than the threat of Norman bursting through the door. The two of them had a surprising amount in common despite their ugly history, and Zoe enjoyed spending time with him. She looked forward to seeing him every morning and missed him when she retired each night. Was more than a friendship between them possible? Did she want that? Did Clark?
“I’ve known Dr. West since the day he arrived in Fort Benton, and he’s been happier, more alive, since you’ve joined us.” Mrs. Carter stood and began organizing the wreaths and flower arrangements into baskets for transport to the church. “I know he was a soldier, he’s never spoken of it to me, but I believe your presence here is helping him heal.”
Zoe pondered that statement as she rose to help Mrs. Carter with the baskets. Was her presence in Fort Benton simply an opportunity for Clark to assuage his guilty conscience? The notion unsettled her, saddened her even, and once again she was left utterly confused and frustrated.
“Good afternoon, ladies. I see you’ve been hard at work.”
Zoe’s heart skipped a beat as Clark entered the room as ruggedly handsome as the day was long. Excitement rushed through her at the mere sight of him. What is wrong with me? She’d never responded this way to a man before, but then she’d never had a man save her life or vow to protect her either.
“We are overdue to make that house call to Mrs. Kent,” he said, utterly oblivious to her inner turmoil. “I thought we could go together.”
“So I can protect you from Miss Kent?” she teased, desperate to portray absolute calm until she could sort her feelings out.
“Am I that transparent?” he teased back.
Zoe glanced back at Mrs. Carter. “Can you manage with all these flowers on your own?”
“Of course, of course.” She shooed them toward the door. “You two run along.”
“I’ll just grab my medical bag,” Clark said. “Wait for me on the porch.”
Zoe took a moment to finish helping Mrs. Carter and then ambled out to the front porch. Thus far the autumn air had proved to be quite crisp in the mornings and evenings, but perfectly warm in the afternoons. Despite the mild weather, she shivered and hugged her arms around herself, searching the faces passing up and down the street. Standing on the porch she felt vulnerable, and exposed. Norman could happen upon her at any moment. There were times—like now—when she’d swear she sensed eyes upon her. Norman must be watching. She gulped and paced restlessly the length of the porch.
A Nurse for Clark Page 5