“Well?”
After the mayor confided in him, Enoch hadn’t had much opportunity to decide how best to share some of the information with his twin while leaving her ignorant of other portions of it. He put the words together quickly. “In addition to selling those patent medicines, Orville’s been trying to earn some money using those crazy machines Dr. Wicky left behind.”
“They’re working—at making people crazy.” Taylor shook her head. “I understand Orville’s part in the whole matter. But the mayor? Gustav Cutter hardly seems the type to rely on such quackery.”
Enoch pumped the water furiously, hoping he’d turned in time to hide his expression. Starting to rinse the cloths, he strove to sound nonchalant. “I believe that was the general cause of the disagreement.”
“Ohhhh. I suppose then it probably had to do with Dr. Somebody-or-Other’s magnetic girdle.”
Water splashed all over him. “Girdle?”
“Yes. Sydney and Velma told me about it as well as some other items Orville carted out of here. Sydney’s amusement over that one item’s advertising made it stand out in my mind. ‘For the treatment of social ills and baldness.’ ” Taylor barely paused to draw a breath. “If Orville was foolish enough to suggest the mayor might be in need of a treatment . . .”
“Someone might get hurt.” Enoch didn’t look at his twin—he couldn’t. She’d stare at him with such intensity, she’d read his every thought. “So that settles it. I’ll take care of the rest of this. Go on up and get some sleep.”
“That does not settle it.” Anger vibrated in her voice. “When it comes to the welfare of the citizens of Gooding, I’ll do whatever I deem best. I don’t need you to take care of this or to tell me to go take a nap as if I’m an irritable toddler. You’re nothing like the brother I knew a month ago. That Enoch respected my professional ability and judgment and never once interfered with my patients.”
“I did not interfere. If someone confides in me, I owe it to them to be worthy of their trust.”
“But if I’d treated my patient, he wouldn’t have confided in you.”
Her accusation hit home. He’d made a determination, stepped in, and treated a human patient—her patient, in her surgery, without so much as having glanced her way for permission. The magnitude of what he’d done struck him. By interfering, Enoch had given the mayor an excuse to say he didn’t need the doctor, when otherwise he’d have needed to either sign on to her list of patients or proclaim himself to be a hypocrite.
Still upset, Taylor kept right on talking. “The twin I had in Chicago would have respected a woman’s mind and sought her wishes.”
“Of course I did.”
“Not anymore, you don’t.”
Though tempted to argue the point, Enoch gritted his teeth. He’d earned her wrath, so he’d take it.
“The Enoch Bestman here in Texas is a complete stranger who acts as though neither his wife nor sister ought to be troubled by anything.”
“Come on, Sis. What kind of man would stand back and allow a lady to endure something when he could take the brunt of it?” I wouldn’t want you hearing what the mayor said.
“We’re not talking about a threat where a man’s physique would protect a woman’s smaller frame. The issue at hand is one where you’ve determined that it’s your place to be the gatekeeper of knowledge, weighing information and determining what is acceptable and what is deleterious or unacceptable.”
“That’s an oversimplification—”
“Ignorance is never admirable nor attractive, and if that has become your feminine ideal, you may as well go wear Orville’s girdle.”
Weak rays of sun slanted across her mattress, awakening Taylor from a short nap. Exhaustion and years of learning to sleep in short snatches helped . . . some. She had let her emotions loose in full force and felt none the better for it. As a matter of fact, she felt worse. Her twin was carrying an unbearable burden, yet she’d added to it. What is wrong with me? I used to be able to tease him. We once laughed things off or compromised. How is it that we fight over things now? Is that the way it’s going to be from here on out? A few months ago, I would have appreciated his bandaging a simple hand wound.
As soon as she tidied her hair, she went to check on Mercy. Enoch sat beside her, and Taylor murmured, “I’m here. You can go sleep now.”
Enoch shook his head.
They’d already argued enough. Taylor chose not to pick a fight, and certainly not while standing over Mercy’s bed. She assessed Mercy’s respirations and pulse and prepared to fold down the covers so she could inspect the dressing.
Enoch’s hand stilled her movement. “ ‘Beautiful dreamer,’ ” he began singing.
Mercy moaned.
“Do you hurt, sweet pea?”
Her eyes opened, and she bit her lip. Taylor smoothed back a few stray wisps of her sister-in-law’s hair and strove to ease the awkward moment. “Of course she hurts, Enoch. Your singing has to be one of the more painful things known to man.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Mercy agreed.
“You can give me voice lessons later.” Enoch reached for a glass and eased the straw between his wife’s pale lips. He seemed so casual and relaxed, but the tension in his shoulders and the infinitesimal shake of his fingers gave away his fear.
Is he afraid I’ll tell her the truth, or is it just that he hates the truth himself and doesn’t like her hurting? Whichever it is, I only made it worse today. I have reasonable matters to discuss with him, but I was unreasonable. Instead of being able to lean on me when he needs me the most, he’s on his own.
After a few sips, Mercy cleared her throat. “How long have I slept?”
“Four days.”
“Four days!” Mercy’s right hand flew to her mouth. “It can’t be. Heidi. The boardinghouse.”
“Everything’s being taken care of,” Enoch assured her.
“And now you need to be taken care of, too.” Taylor drew down the covers with great care, yet used a brisk move so it wouldn’t look as though she was fussing. “I need to inspect your dressing.”
Mercy fingered the button at the high neck of her flannel nightgown. “Yes. Of course.” Faint color washed her cheeks as she cast a quick look to her right. Her lashes lowered, and her grip on the button tightened.
“Let me help you.” Enoch reached for the button as he spoke.
“No!” Silence hovered over the three of them. Then Mercy whispered, “Please leave me alone with the doctor.”
“No.” Enoch said the word quietly, calmly, firmly. “I’m your husband, and my place is by your side.”
Her brother needed her. Her patient needed her, too. How was she to decide whose decision to support? Lord, please give me wisdom now and all of us help in the days ahead. Her stethoscope hung on the bedpost, a poignant reminder that she wasn’t there as Enoch’s twin sister, but as Mercy’s physician. Taylor steeled herself for the battle ahead when suddenly words threaded through her mind. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. . . .
“She’s my patient, and you’re her husband, and you’re making a pest of yourself. Being by her side puts you in my way. Go stand by the window, Enoch.”
Enoch gave Mercy a peck on the cheek. “Hurry up and get well. Sis is far too bossy for us to stay here much longer.”
“If you don’t like that window,” Taylor said, making a dismissive gesture, “go look out any of the others, and polish them while you’re at it. After all, you still haven’t hired a housekeeper, and that was part of our deal.”
“Deal?” Mercy asked faintly as she watched Enoch walk toward the far side of the bedchamber.
“For me to agree to come to Texas. You’re my sister now, so I expect you to stand beside me on this and make him hurry up. I think I’ve been remarkably patient.” Taylor pushed her sleeves up. “You just lie still. Your gown is nice and full, so I can leave the covers here at your waist and lift the gown instead of having to unbutton you and bother with the sleeve. I’ll inspect your dr
essing now. I do that a few times each day and change it once a day. Eager as Enoch is to escape from me, you can come have me change it as you continue to heal.”
“I’ll just do it for her at home.”
“You, Taylor. I want you to.”
“Hey!” Enoch protested from over at the window.
The stricken look on Mercy’s face cut through Taylor. If this was how she felt without knowing her diagnosis, how much worse was it going to be when she learned it was cancer? Patting her sister-in-law on the shoulder, Taylor used her crispest voice. “Enoch, don’t you dare say another word. You only treat animals.”
Enoch made an impatient sound. “The two of you are going to stick together, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” they said in unison, then Mercy winced as the gown snagged for just a second on the dressing. Intentionally, Taylor left the gown bunched up so her patient couldn’t see the bandaging. If there was any complication whatsoever, Mercy could be told about that later—not now. Not when she’d likely be absorbing at least part of her condition as soon as Taylor drew the gown back down. Whether Enoch wanted her to know or not, Mercy was too intelligent not to figure things out. It wasn’t fair to have her deduce the situation by herself; she deserved to have her doctor and family be honest with her.
“Excellent. The dressing is nice and dry.”
A whimper escaped Mercy.
Taylor didn’t look at her patient’s chest; she looked at her face.
Eyes huge and lips tremulous, Mercy stared downward. She’d lifted her head slightly and could plainly see the dressing. Her right hand came over and she barely grazed her fingertips over the flat surface. Too weak to keep her head up, it lolled back.
Slipping her fingers beneath Mercy’s, Taylor gave them a small squeeze. “Enoch—”
“I don’t want him here. I don’t want him to see me. Not like this. Oh, not like this.”
“Shhh.” Hastily, Taylor pulled the gown down and the bedclothes up. “You’re covered.”
Enoch hadn’t waited. Upon hearing his name and his wife’s anguish, he’d come at once. “Enough of that.”
Taylor wanted to kick him. His wife was distraught, and he was trying to be logical. Of all the male things to do, Enoch couldn’t have made a more boneheaded choice.
Mercy dissolved into a fit of tears. Clutching Taylor’s hand, she begged, “Make him go away.”
He glowered at her. “Don’t waste your breath.”
A keening wail split the air.
She knows. She’s figured it out. Taylor tightened her hold of Mercy’s hand.
“It’s gone. All of it. It wasn’t just a cyst, was it?” Mercy’s tear-filled eyes pleaded for reassurance.
Enoch said, “I’ll answer that.”
Twenty-Two
Everything within Taylor revolted. Enoch hadn’t wanted Mercy to know, and he’d gone so far as to give instructions to avoid answering—but this? He was prepared to tell an outright lie and have her be his accomplice? “That’s not right. I’m the physician here.” And Mercy is going to get the full truth.
Ripping the covers off the bed, Enoch half roared, “For Pete’s sake!” After shoving the covers into Taylor’s arms, he lifted Mercy and sat on the bed with his back to the headboard and her cradled on his lap. “You women are trying my patience. I’ve waited for this moment for four days.”
“Mercy, you asked me, and you deserve an answer.” Taylor reached over and held both of her sister-in-law’s hands—the small, slender right one and the left one that was painfully swollen from a common temporary circulatory reaction to the surgery. “It wasn’t a cyst.”
“It was a tumor, sweet pea. But Taylor got it all.”
“Cancer.” Horror and shock hushed Mercy’s voice.
Enoch’s head dipped. He brushed a soft kiss across her mouth. “Yes, but Taylor got it all. I’ve been waiting for four long days to give you the good news.”
Taylor slowly, subtly released Mercy’s hands and backed away from the bed. She couldn’t believe it. Clear up to the very last second, Enoch had fought with her. For the first time in their lives, they’d been diametrically opposed and unable to find a compromise. He’d been impossible, selfish, overbearing, and . . . now, absolutely the most loving husband she’d ever seen.
“We didn’t want you to hurt too much, so Taylor’s been giving you laudanum.” He nuzzled Mercy’s temple. Such a display of affection wouldn’t normally be acceptable with anyone else present—but this situation didn’t conform to ordinary rules. “The only reason I could wait for all this time was because I knew it would let you sleep through some pain. But here you are in my arms, and I’m going to hold you for years and years to come.”
Mercy’s head dipped. Enoch cupped it to his shoulder and murmured, “Tired?”
“Heidi?”
Did Enoch notice how Mercy had avoided answering him by changing the subject? Taylor’s eyes narrowed. The next minutes and days would form the ways this couple would deal with not only the challenge, but with one another during the recovery and beyond.
“Dan and Millie had her until today. Hope took her so she and Emmy-Lou could play together for a few days. And I’d guess you want to know about the boardinghouse now, too. Right?”
“Yes.” Mercy’s tone sounded flat.
“Linette’s handling it all. After having helped you for so long, she knows your routines. Widow O’Toole’s pitching in and keeping things going just fine.”
Her brother was a complete dolt. Instead of reassuring Mercy, all he was going to do was make her feel unnecessary! Taylor immediately tacked on, “But no one can begin to truly fill in for you. All of those things are inconsequential compared to you and your health, anyway. Most women who hear the news you were just given have some questions. Is there anything you’d like me to explain?”
Mercy barely shook her head.
“Over the next days or weeks, things are bound to occur to you. You might feel a bit numb right now after having been given such a shock.”
“Tell her how small it was,” Enoch demanded.
“Here.” In preparation for this moment, Taylor had formed a likeness of the tumor out of soap. “This is the size and shape. Not only did you detect it early, but when we did surgery, I was able to remove surrounding tissue that appeared healthy.”
“Do you remember Taylor telling you how tumors put down roots or send out seeds, so she always makes sure she trims out extra to be sure?”
“But it’s all gone.”
“Yes, sweet pea, it’s all gone.”
Sensing they meant entirely different things, Taylor decided to help. “Mercy, we did the mastectomy just as we discussed so we’d rid you of the cancer. Your breast is gone now, but the most important thing is—”
“That Heidi and I will have you for a lifetime.”
Understandably shaken and weepy, Mercy asked, “How long of a life?”
“Only the Lord knows that, but I fully expect it to be comparable to any other healthy young woman’s.” The strain had gone on long enough. Taylor motioned to Enoch to lie Mercy back down.
He ignored her. “I’m your husband, Mercy Bestman, and you’re not getting away from me. You married me, and you’re stuck with me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am!” Taylor exclaimed with a laugh. “I finally got rid of Enoch, and you’re not giving him back.”
Finally, Mercy slumped into Enoch’s chest. A hiccuppy sob shook her. “I didn’t want to give him back.”
“Then see to it you don’t. Oh, and by the way, over the next seven or eight years, I fully expect a couple of nephews and another niece or two. If there was justice in this world, the children would be hellions to pay their father back for all the times he’s bedeviled me; but I love you too much to wish such a fate on you, Mercy. Instead, I’ll pray for you to have children just like me.”
“It’s a good thing you married me, sweet pea. If you hadn’t, I’d be stuck here with a madwoman
.”
Karl helped Taylor into the buggy and then scraped the mud off his boots as he climbed in himself. “So Enoch took Mercy home?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase his concerns. “After two weeks. Is she better?”
“Recovery from surgery is never easy. You’re a particularly hearty specimen, and you sprang back faster than any patient I’ve ever had. Even so, for the first week or two, you fatigued rapidly. As a small woman, Mercy’s vital reserves are lower. I have every confidence she’ll spring back as long as we don’t cause her anxiety over her temporary weakness.”
He pulled the buggy to the side of the road. Curling his fingers around the doctor’s gloved hand, he searched for the right words. Until now, he’d not taken the liberty to make such familiar contact, but it came so naturally. “To do surgery on someone you love—it must be very hard.”
She managed a tense shrug.
“We have spoken about whether it is good that you became a doctor, and I believe it was the right thing. If only for this, then it was worth it so you could help your sister.”
“That would be very selfish.”
He let out a disbelieving snort. She seemed to be regaining her mettle, and that was good, but he still wanted to praise her. “You’re a scientist, but in many ways, you’re also an artist. This case, I’m thinking, must have been your masterpiece.”
Slowly, she pulled her hand from his. “Mercy is God’s masterpiece. I’m thankful for all He’s done for her.”
“Why can’t you accept any credit? You did the operation.”
She let out a long, shaky breath. “Mostly with my eyes closed.”
“If your eyes were closed, it was because you were praying. I’ve been praying, too. The difference God makes in the midst of difficulty . . . In my grief I railed against Him, and now I see how Enoch and Mercy turn toward Him and find strength. My aim is to walk so closely with the Lord that I lean on Him in every circumstance of life.”
“It’s a noble goal, and our heavenly Father must be pleased you’re pursuing Him with all your heart.”
“It is the way a marriage should be, as well.”
That Certain Spark Page 23