A Lady in Attendance

by Rachel Fordham

  “Of what?” her father asked.

  “That somehow my presence would make others unsafe.”

  “This isn’t your doing.” Her father came to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. “We didn’t stand beside you before, but now, this time we will. No matter what, we’ll be here for you and we want you here.”

  She put a tired hand to her forehead. “He’s a smart man—at least he must have been before he lost his mind. If this house is surrounded by officers, he’ll wait. He’ll wait until I’m alone.”

  “We’re smarter than Patrick, don’t you worry,” the shorter officer said.

  “Is that why he’s evaded you so far?” She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know you’re working hard. I’ve no doubt you’ll do all you can. I think I’ll go sit by Lizzy.”

  The night was ever so long. Each minute dragged by as she fought to stay in control of her nerves. Every half hour or so, she peered out the window and assured herself the officers were still present and awake and, to her relief, walking laps around the house.

  At four in the morning, long before the sun rose for the day, she heard a ruckus and ran to the window. The two officers were across the street and had a man pinned to the ground.

  Relief, sweet and real, poured over her. Could it be so simple? Patrick had come to her house and the officers got him right away? She sighed. Her eye darted back to the man on the ground, and the sick tension returned. She pressed her face to the glass, then shrieked and sprang to action, racing away from her charge and out the front door.

  “Let him go!” she shouted at the officers. “That’s not Patrick. Let him go! That’s Gil.”

  The officers’ heads shot up, and their eyes found hers. Gilbert was still pressed to the ground with his arm twisted behind his back.

  “Let him go.” She said each word loud and slow. “Now.”

  The officers released Gilbert and backed away.

  “Hazel!” Gil shouted back as he struggled to his feet. “I came as quick as I could.”

  She stepped down the stairs, not worrying about her slippered feet and thinking only of rushing into his arms and burying her head in his strong shoulder.

  “Go inside. It’s not safe out here,” she said as he crossed the street toward her. The police officers stayed back, looking away sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come. It’s not safe. Patrick is somewhere.”

  “This is where I want to be.” He was almost to her, and Hazel’s heart cried out in anticipation. Gilbert, her Gil, was there!

  “I forgot.” He turned back and crossed the street, bending down to pick up a package that lay in the snow. Hazel grinned. It was foolish to feel giddy considering the situation, but she couldn’t suppress it.

  A noise to her left drew her attention away from Gilbert and the package in his hands. In the dim early morning light, she saw a man approaching. He staggered but moved quickly. Hazel screamed, alerting the others. The two officers quickly approached from across the street, and Gilbert dropped the package again and raced toward her.

  They were too slow.

  A hand came around her waist. She screamed again, and for one second her eyes locked with Gil’s before the edge of something sharp came against her throat. The two officers and Gilbert moved together but didn’t advance toward Hazel.

  “Let her go, Patrick,” Gilbert said. His quiet demeanor changed into something fierce she’d never seen before. His fists were clenched, his jaw was tight, and his eyes were on fire.

  “No!” Patrick sneered, his foul breath striking her. “She ruined everything.” He pushed the knife against her neck enough that it pierced her skin. A warm stream of blood trickled down her neck. She flinched, but with his arm so tight around her waist, pressing her back against his chest, and the knife at her neck, she had no way to flee. “And now she’ll die,” he said. Hazel could feel his head turn toward the officers. “Drop your guns.”

  They bent and placed their pistols on the ground. Hazel’s thin nightdress and slippers offered little protection from the cold, but she barely noticed. Patrick spit, then pulled her with him as he walked backward away from the others. “You’re coming with me. I’m going to destroy you just like you destroyed me.”

  With the blade at her throat, she couldn’t utter a sound of protest. Death was near, looming and sure. Would all the years of struggle be for naught? She did her best to walk without stumbling, but going backward with an unsteady man was not easy. Gilbert and the officers inched along with them, always keeping their distance but never losing sight of her.

  Hazel tapped Patrick’s hand. He loosened his grip just enough so that she could speak. “Not that way.” The words burned her sore throat.

  “You don’t get to tell me where I can go.”

  He walked faster in the direction she’d advised against. Her years of relentless stubbornness helped her understand this wicked man. She tapped his arm again.

  “What?” he growled. “What now?”

  “Not this way,” she said again, leading him to the iciest patch of road around. It was so slick that if temperatures dropped, locals knew to avoid it at all costs. Hazel prayed the knife would fall when Patrick did and not injure her further. It was the only idea she had.

  “Shut your mouth.” He tightened the knife at her throat, making her wince. Patrick stepped onto the icy road, swaying before he even hit the worst of it. His feet jutted out, causing the knife to nick her neck again. As Patrick fought to keep his footing and steady himself with his arms, he let go of her. With no knife at her throat, Hazel turned and shoved him with all the force she could muster, then darted away, falling once on the ice herself. Gilbert ran by at full speed toward Patrick, the two officers at his heels. There was no time to pause and marvel at the sight of him—his long, lean frame not missing a step, a protective rage written across his tight features.

  Like a cougar, Gilbert leapt onto the still-struggling Patrick. His force knocked Patrick to the ground, and his fists kept him there. Gil unleashed one blow after another, his breath hard and heavy, his voice fierce and threatening. The officers retrieved the knife, which Patrick had dropped at his side. Patrick tried to get up and cursed between blows, managing to hit Gilbert only once. Threatening, vile words escaped Patrick’s bloody mouth. Gilbert pulled back his fist and let it land squarely on Patrick’s face, finally subduing the criminal. Gil got to his feet as the officers leapt in and put Patrick in cuffs.

  Gilbert wiped a hand across his face, never taking his eyes off Patrick.

  “Are you hurt?” Hazel rushed to his side. “Tell me where, and I’ll help you.”

  He shook his head, then looked at his bloodied hands. “I don’t know. Hazel, I—”

  “Come back to the house and I’ll clean you up.” She grabbed his hand and led him away.

  Gilbert looked back and forth between Patrick and her, his eyes finally focusing on her neck. “You’re bleeding! Your neck! Oh, Red, your neck.”

  Hazel ran a finger across her neck, and it came away damp and red. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against her injuries. “I’m sorry. When he was holding you—”

  “It’s nothing. It doesn’t even hurt.”

  He put his other hand on the back of her neck and brought her to him, then he pressed his lips against her forehead.

  “I’ve never hit a man,” he said, letting her go and looking back toward Patrick.

  “He was going to kill me.” She pulled on his arm, urging him away from the scene. “Gil, he was going to kill me, and I would have never—”

  “I wouldn’t have let him. I would have done anything to keep you safe.” Gil studied his bloodstained hands. “I’ve never acted like that before. Are you afraid?”

  “Afraid of you?” She shook her head. “No, not at all. You came when I needed you. You risked your life. Gilbert Watts, I have never felt safer in anyone’s presence than I do in yours—and not just because of what you did this morning.”

&
nbsp; They were near the house now. She pointed toward the package on the ground. “Is that yours?”

  “It’s a gift for you. I made it a few days ago and had planned to mail it. Ina mentioned a grand gesture . . . that’s, well, that’s my attempt.” He looked away. “Save it and open it another time. Right now hardly seems the right time.”

  “Very well.” Hazel picked it up, then opened the door for him. She’d planned to wash him up, look over his injuries, and fall into his arms in a pile of tears, but it was not to be. She barely had time to change her clothes. The house was soon alive and full of commotion. Police officers, doctors, and reporters trickled in, all needing to talk to Hazel and Gilbert.

  Gilbert cleaned himself up and sat beside her when she was free, but they had very little time alone. The day stretched on in much the same fashion until Gilbert said, “I promised a patient I’d get them their dentures tomorrow. It’s not a life-and-death thing, but I gave them my word.”

  “You’re leaving?” Her heart sank. “I had hoped . . .”

  “I’m sorry, Hazel.” And she knew from his expression that he truly was, but that did not change the fact that she wanted him there with her. “But you are coming to the wedding, are you not?”

  “I’ll be there.” She touched his cheek gently. “Your poor face.”

  “It’ll heal.” He covered her hand with his. “Will you go to the wedding with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish it didn’t have to wait.” He stood to leave. “I’ll count down the days.”

  “As will I.”

  Lizzy moaned, and duty called. She kissed him quickly on the cheek, then, fighting tears, answered the cry of need.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was late into the night before the commotion of the day died down. The officers had left, the reporters had all been turned away, and Mathilda and Lizzy were both resting peacefully. Hazel sat at the dining room table and tipped her head back, resting it against the chair. She was tired, but she knew the wild feeling pumping through her veins would keep her from falling asleep. Over and over again she saw the wild, protective passion burning in Gilbert’s eyes as he leapt across the icy street and knocked Patrick down. He’d once confessed to often being afraid, and perhaps he was fearful in that moment too, but he acted like a man who had no doubts he would succeed. Butterflies danced in her heart each time she relived the moment and saw his face. He’d been gone only a couple of hours and she’d see him soon, but she missed him.

  Hazel’s mother entered the room with Gilbert’s box in hand. “Are you curious what he brought you?”

  “I am.” She took the package and hugged it tightly to herself. “He said he made this several days ago.”

  “It’s sweet of him to think of you. You should open it.”

  Hazel tore the brown paper from the package and found a note tucked inside. She opened it and read quietly to herself.

  Dear Hazel,

  Time has moved slowly since I last saw you. I know it’s only been weeks since we were in Buffalo, but it feels much longer. I thought you’d like knowing Alberta was in again. I nearly died. I think I need you to come back and take care of me after the tongue-lashing she gave me.

  Bianca Carluccio has learned a few English words. Not enough to easily communicate, but she’s trying hard. I watched her eyes when she came in. I think she was looking for you. If I’d been able to speak Italian, I would have told her I am always watching for you too. On the street when the door opens and even in my dreams, I look for your red hair and beautiful face.

  I miss my attending and her humming. I miss my friend. I understand they need you where you are. But know you are deeply missed.

  I told you once that I paint my heart into pictures. So today I give you my heart.

  Lovingly yours,

  Gil

  “Is it a nice letter?” Hazel’s mother asked.

  “Yes. Some of our favorite patients have been in.”

  “Oh, is that all?”

  “No,” she said slowly, enjoying the way her heart raced when she thought of Gilbert’s bold words and sweet confessions. “He said more than that.”

  Her mother didn’t press for details. Instead, she said, “Don’t you want to see what he brought?”

  She opened the gift, savoring the simple pleasure of discovering what was beneath the paper. Inside she found a painting unlike any other she’d ever seen. In the right corner was the profile of a face—her face. The features matched hers so well—her nose with its tiny curve and her eyes with their flecks of green. Little details that most would overlook. The rest of the painting was a mosaic of other items all blended together in an unusually artistic way. A flute, an autumn leaf, a stalk of corn, a fallen tree, and so much more.

  “It’s lovely but very unusual,” her mother commented. “Why do you suppose he put all that together?”

  “It’s me. All of it is. It’s my flute and my favorite season and my first corn husking and our hill. It’s all me, and it’s him. It’s us together.” She hugged the painting, wishing she were hugging the painter instead. “He paints his heart into his work. It’s a grand gesture of sorts, his way of telling me that I am his heart. And he is mine.”

  Her mother put her hands on her daughter’s cheeks. “I’ll forever be grateful he protected his heart today.”

  Hazel filled the remaining days before the wedding caring for Lizzy and Mathilda. Both were improving daily, causing a sense of relief to fill the house. The tense atmosphere turned light and jovial. Her anticipation grew with each passing moment until the day of the long-awaited wedding arrived.

  “I’ll be back soon.” Hazel kissed her sister’s cheek. “I’d stay by your side and read to you all afternoon, but Ina would never understand if I missed her wedding.”

  “You have to go.” A wistful look filled Mathilda’s face like a child staring into the windows of the candy shop. “Will you tell me all about it?”

  “I will. Every detail. What the dress looked like, what we ate, and even who I danced with.” Hazel pushed a rebellious pin deeper into her hair. “How do I look?”

  “Beautiful. I think Gilbert will be even more lost to you when he sees you. Mother always says you look fetching in lavender.”

  Hazel smiled at her reflection, loving how her new dress fit each curve of her body. “I do hope so.” A noise drew her attention to the window. She peered out. “The driver’s here. I have to go.”

  “Tell me if he sweeps you off your feet.” Mathilda sat upright in her bed, a forgotten book beside her. “I hope he does.”

  “He can be a little quiet. I might have to take the lead.” She winked at her sister. “Does that make me very modern? Or a complete heathen?”

  Mathilda pulled her mouth to one side. “Depends who you ask. Mother might say you’re a heathen, but I think it’s romantic letting a man know you care for him.”

  “Since I like your judgment, you are the one I will whisper my secrets to when I come home.” Her heart danced with excitement, amazed and humbled that after such a long stretch of heartache she’d found herself at the center of so much good.

  Hazel kissed her sister’s cheek, grabbed the little paper bundle that sat on the table, and rushed to meet her ride. She fiddled with the gift in her hands during the entire ride to Amherst. The crinkle of paper made her heart soar one moment and panic the next. Perhaps this was too soon, too presumptuous. But so much time had already been lost, and she didn’t want to wait just for the sake of waiting when she knew what she wanted.

  “Please drop me off here,” Hazel requested when she was near her destination. “I want to walk the rest of the way.”

  She stood on the side of the street, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. How great and marvelous to be back! Everything looked how she remembered, only now the snow was deeper and she was freer. She quickened her pace, lifting her skirts a little in a feckless attempt at keeping her hem dry for the wedding. Ina was a pra
ctical friend who she had no doubt would welcome her no matter how disheveled she was. It was Gilbert’s reaction she cared most about.

  Hazel stopped in front of his house only long enough to catch her breath, then she walked to the front door, knocked confidently, and waited.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the long-lost Hazel.” Eddie opened the door wide, letting her in. “I’m glad you’ve come. Gilbert’s been moping around since his return from Buffalo. I’ll go get him and let you two say your hellos. Or your I-love-yous or whatever it is you plan to say to him.”

  “I . . . well . . . I wasn’t going to—”

  “Save it for Gilbert.” He dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  She fidgeted with her skirts, trying to knock the snow off the bottom and smooth the riding creases. Her head popped up when she heard her name and the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

  “Gil!”

  “You’re here!” He crossed the entryway to her. His face still showed signs of the fight with Patrick, but his arms were outstretched. She was certain she’d never seen a more welcoming sight. “You’re really here. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I can hardly believe you’re real.”

  She reached out and took his hand and guided it to her face. “Flesh and bones. The real thing.”

  He stepped away, the smile still on his face. “I’m going to tell Eddie we’re leaving. Wait here.”

  “Does he want to come with us?”

  “He doesn’t get to. He’s a grown man and can find his own way there.” Gilbert dashed back up the stairs, returning only seconds later. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She took his arm and sighed. Holding on to him felt so natural and perfect.

  His eyes kept finding hers, and his smile never left his face. “Tell me how Matty is and all the others.”

  “There’s been a lot of activity since Patrick was arrested, but it’s been good. He’s behind bars, and I feel much more at ease knowing it. Matty and Lizzy are both doing well, and everyone else is glad life is going back to normal, though I’m not sure there is such a thing.”