She dashed the tears from her cheeks, splotches of red marring her delicate complexion. “I . . . I’m fine, thank you.”
The desire to rush to her defense rose strong in Gabe’s chest, but he held back, realizing she needed to handle this on her own.
“Is Delia . . . ?”
“The same, I’m afraid.” He crossed his arms. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a word.”
“Of course.”
“Not you, Miss Hastings. I was speaking to Mr. Montgomery.” His hard brown eyes pinned Gabe in challenge.
“As you wish, Doctor.”
Aurora clutched Gabe’s arm and shot him a look filled with anxiety.
“Don’t worry. I promise we’ll keep it civil. Why don’t you go and check on my niece for me?”
She gave a tremulous smile. “I’d be happy to.”
Once Aurora had gone inside, Gabe followed the stiff back of Dr. Reardon down the hall to his brother’s office. The room hadn’t been used much of late, with Rylan so preoccupied with his daughter.
“Have a seat,” the man said as if he owned the office.
“I’d prefer to stand, thank you. What is it you wish to say?”
Dr. Reardon remained standing, as well. “I’ll be blunt. I want you to leave. Your presence here is a distraction and is hindering Miss Hastings’s work. Since you’ve passed the incubation period with no symptoms, I give you permission to leave the building. You may go back to your . . . firefighting.” A definite swirl of animosity laced the doctor’s tone.
Several rebuttals came to mind, but Gabe focused on the one that seemed the most rational. “I’m here first and foremost for my brother. With his daughter fighting for her life, Rylan needs all the support he can get. I’ll not be leaving until the crisis has passed.”
Dr. Reardon snorted. “I’m not a fool. I see your true motivation.”
So he wanted to spar, did he? Gabe took a step toward him. “Let’s address the actual issue at hand, why don’t we? You’re in love with Aurora, and you can’t stand that she seems to prefer my company.”
The doctor’s posture stiffened, his mouth a straight line beneath his mustache. “You are nothing but a passing fancy, a novelty. But you’ll soon be back on a ship, an ocean away, whereas I’ll be here for the duration.”
Gabe’s gut churned with that uncomfortable truth. “Aurora is a grown woman who makes her own decisions. My leaving the orphanage won’t change our friendship.”
Dr. Reardon crossed his arms and moved closer. “Just so we’re clear, I plan to wed Aurora.”
A stab of jealousy hit Gabe hard. “And how does she feel about this? Or have you even asked?”
“I don’t have to. We have a solid connection—one borne of mutual respect and a shared love of medicine.” His nostrils flared. “If you care about her, you won’t dally with her affections when you’ll be leaving soon and not returning.”
The thought of never seeing Aurora’s beautiful face again created a painful spasm in Gabe’s chest. Could he really walk away forever? Suddenly his reasons for going home seemed to diminish in importance. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”
Something akin to fear flared in the man’s eyes. “Go ahead and break Aurora’s heart, Mr. Montgomery. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces.” He pushed past Gabe toward the door. “My initial request remains. Please leave and let us tend the sick.”
The grip on Gabe’s temper slipped, and he held back a growl. “Not until my niece is on the mend and my brother and Aurora no longer need me.”
The door slammed behind the doctor, leaving Gabe with an uncomfortable sensation in his gut. He couldn’t dispute most of what Dr. Reardon had said. Did Gabe have the right to disrupt Aurora’s life, or should he do the noble thing and back away?
It was true that the doctor and Aurora shared a bond through their work, and with a doctor for a husband, she would be guaranteed a secure future.
And her father seemed determined to keep Gabe away from Aurora. If he pursued a relationship with her, he risked splintering her family.
He let out a long breath. For now, he’d keep his feelings to himself and concentrate on getting through the epidemic before making any life-altering decisions. Once the danger had passed, he would figure out how Aurora felt about him, if he was indeed a passing fancy, or if they might share a more lasting connection.
He stepped out into the hall, at a loss as to what to do next. Quick footsteps sounded, and he turned to see Aurora rushing toward him. A clutch of anxiety hit him at seeing the tears streaking her cheeks.
“Gabe. Come quick,” she cried. “Delia is awake!”
23
THE BEAUTY OF THE WARM JULY afternoon did nothing to lighten Adam’s mood as he climbed the grand staircase at Irish Meadows. The door to the master bedroom stood slightly ajar, and Adam paused to steel himself before entering. What would he find waiting inside?
The moment he stepped over the threshold, the gloom of the interior surrounded him like a shroud. Heavy curtains were drawn over the large window, with only a small crack of light casting a beam across the carpet. The stench of sickness, mixed with a sweet medicinal odor, permeated the space.
Please Lord, don’t let me be too late.
James sat beside the bed, his head bowed over the still figure beneath the covers. Regret weighed like a two-ton load on Adam’s shoulders at the sight. He hesitated, unsure what do next. Would James allow him to stay or throw him out? He waited for him to acknowledge his presence.
At last, James raised his head and directed a bloodshot gaze to Adam. “So you came.”
“Of course I came. She’s my mother.”
James straightened and slowly rose from the chair. Haggard did not begin to describe his appearance, making Adam wonder if he’d turned to whiskey to ease his distress. His stained shirt hung out of his trousers, suspenders laying limply at his sides. His dark hair looked gouged from dragging his hands through it.
Adam watched him approach, inwardly bracing for a fist to the jaw. But James only stared at him. “If your presence will do her any good, then I thank God for bringing you.” He pointed to the chair he’d vacated. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone.”
James didn’t wait for a reply but walked out the door. His heavy footsteps thudded down the carpeted hall, leaving Adam alone to watch over his mother.
He pulled out the chair and perched on the edge, forcing himself to look at Mama’s wan face. Her labored breathing made her chest rise and fall beneath the thin sheet.
Never had Adam felt more helpless, except for the time he’d found Danny floating in the pond. Though he’d tried to breathe life back into the boy’s tiny body, nothing could be done to revive him. The sight of his little brother’s blue lips and white face had haunted him ever since.
That couldn’t happen again. This time he had to find a way to help.
Adam lifted one of his mother’s hands and warmed it between his own. “I’m here, Mama. You’ve got to fight this illness. You’re the cement that binds this family together.” He rested his forehead on her hand. “Please don’t give up now. We haven’t had a chance to work things out between us.”
He searched her face for a sign she’d heard him, but her features remained unchanged.
Adam hung his head in prayer and settled in to the vigil he would keep until his mother either got better—or didn’t.
“I’m sorry, son. I wish I had better news.” Dr. Shepherd, the family physician since Adam had been a boy, folded his stethoscope and placed it back in his battered leather bag. “There’s no change.”
Adam nodded, not surprised by his words. “But she’s no worse?”
“No. She’s the same, which for now we’ll take as a good sign.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Two days had gone by in a blur, with the family keeping watch in the room. Adam, James, and the others took turns so Mama was never alone for a moment.
“Kathleen hasn’t reached the critica
l point yet. If she makes it through the next forty-eight hours, she might have a fighting chance.”
Adam swallowed the ball of fear in his throat. “You’ll be around in case we need you?”
“I will. I have a few more patients to see today, but I’ll be back.”
James, who had been standing silently to the side, moved forward. “Let me walk you out, Doc.”
The moment they left the room, Adam sank onto the chair, no longer having to maintain his façade of strength. He bent over the side of his mother’s bed and closed his eyes. “Mama, you have to hang on. You’re the strongest woman I know. You can make it through this.”
Someone pressed a cup into his hand. “Here, you haven’t eaten all day. At least have a sip of tea.”
Adam looked up to see his sister. He blinked and wrapped his fingers around the warm mug.
Brianna rubbed a hand over his back. “Mama always said a cup of tea could fix anything.”
Adam’s lips twisted. “Yes, she did. I think it made her feel better, to make the tea for us.” He rose and offered Brianna the chair.
She took his place, picked up a cloth, and wiped Mama’s face. “She has to get better, Adam. I can’t imagine a world without Mama in it.” Her voice caught, and she bit her bottom lip.
“She is going to recover. We all have to believe it, so she will, too.”
Brianna turned her head to study him. “You’ve changed since you were . . . away.”
“It’s okay to say the word prison, Bree.”
A flush colored her cheeks. “I mean it. You seem more at peace. Less angry.”
Adam held back a snort. Ever since he’d learned of his true parentage, he’d been angrier than ever.
“Now that we’re alone,” she said quietly, “I want you to know Mama and Daddy told Gil and me . . . everything.”
“They told you?” Shock stung Adam’s senses. Remembering the shame and guilt on his mother’s face, Adam couldn’t imagine her telling the rest of the family.
“Yes. And it doesn’t matter to us. You’re still our brother, and we love you.”
She held out a hand to him, and he grasped it.
His throat constricted. “Thank you, Bree. That means more than you know.”
She squeezed his fingers and let her hand fall to her lap. “It must have been quite a shock.”
“Not totally. In a way, it’s a relief to know the truth at last.”
“It does explain a lot about Daddy’s attitude. Not that I’m excusing his behavior, but I can see how hard it would have been for him.”
Images of their childhood flashed in his memory. His gentle sister, ever the peacemaker, always managed to see both sides of every story. “Right now nothing matters except Mama regaining her health. The rest can be sorted out later.”
“Bree, Adam—” James entered the bedroom, his face even more drawn. “Deirdre and Connor are both showing symptoms. Dr. Shepherd never got out the front door.”
Maggie gave Colleen another full day before broaching the subject of her mother. By that time, Dr. Reardon had assured the worried parents that Delia had indeed turned a corner and was expected to make a full recovery. Maggie and Rylan had finally managed to coerce Colleen into one of the now-empty beds to get a decent sleep. She’d barely eaten or slept in the days since Delia had taken ill, and the toll it had taken on her body was obvious. Maggie only prayed she would regain her strength at the same rate as Delia.
The news she’d kept from Colleen now became a heavy burden on Maggie’s conscience. She could not keep it to herself any longer.
When Colleen came into the orphanage kitchen that morning, Maggie set aside the mound of dough she’d been kneading. “You sit. I’ll fix the tea.”
“I’ve been sitting far too much. It will do me good to get back to normal again.” Colleen tied an apron around her and began to inspect the cupboards. “We will need to get in a good order of staples. I’ll try to do that tomorrow. When is Mrs. Norton expected back to work?”
“The doctor said a few days’ more rest should do it.” Maggie washed and dried her hands, then crossed the kitchen. “Colleen, there’s something I must tell you now that Delia’s on the mend.”
Colleen closed a cupboard door with a frown. “Neill Fitzgerald hasn’t been around again, has he?”
The worry on her face gave Maggie a pang of guilt. “No. Nothing like that.” She twisted her hands together. “There’s no easy way to tell you this. . . . Your mother, Connor, and Deirdre have contracted typhoid fever. When the housekeeper phoned, I didn’t want to add to your burden.”
Colleen pulled out a chair and sank onto it. “How is that possible?”
Maggie took a seat across the table from her. “The doctor said the disease could be passed from tainted food. Did your family ever eat here?”
Colleen nodded. “Mama brought Connor and Dee-Dee one day. Mary had made a batch of peach ice cream, and they all had some.” A stricken look came over her. “Delia had some, as well.”
“And you?”
“No, I . . . By the time I finished tidying the classroom, it was all gone.” She put a hand over her mouth.
Maggie nodded. “I remember that day. Rylan and Gabe complained that they’d missed the treat. And I gave my portion to Johnnie.”
Colleen sat back with a thud. “How bad is Mama?”
“Her condition is quite serious.” Maggie paused. “I let Adam know. He’s gone to be with her. He was there when Connor and Deirdre fell ill.”
Colleen gripped her hands together on the tabletop. “I should go, too. But how can I leave Delia? She still needs her mother.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
Maggie covered her hands with her own. “Your mother has the whole family there, but Rylan and Delia need you here.”
Maggie hesitated. Now that Delia was on the mend, she felt she had to go to Adam. “I’m going to Irish Meadows tomorrow,” she said quietly. “I could deliver a letter for you.”
Colleen stared at her. “Why are you going there?”
Maggie lifted her chin. There was no point in keeping the truth from Colleen. Too many life-and-death events in the past weeks made hiding her feelings seem foolish. “Knowing how strained things are between Adam and your father, I want to be there for him. He needs someone in his corner.” She held herself steady under Colleen’s scrutiny.
“Maggie, you can’t get involved in Adam’s life. No good can come from it.”
Maggie gave a rueful smile. “You sound like your brother . . . and mine. But I’m afraid it’s too late for your warnings. Come what may, I have to follow my heart.”
Sympathy oozed across Colleen’s face. “Oh, Maggie. I know you feel compassion for him. Perhaps you’re confusing that . . . sentiment . . . for something else.”
With quiet determination, Maggie rose and went back to her dough. “I’m not confused, Colleen. Adam may have given up on himself—but I haven’t. And neither has God.”
24
WALKING PAST THE RACETRACK toward the barns, Adam inhaled the aroma of manure and grass. After days confined to the stuffy upstairs bedroom, the need for fresh air lured him outdoors. Though Mama hadn’t yet regained consciousness, she had passed the crucial forty-eight hours mentioned by Dr. Shepherd without her condition worsening, and for that alone he needed to give thanks. He could think of nowhere better than out in nature where the pure essence of God lived.
He headed to the pond at the rear of the property, where the tragedy had occurred many years ago. Maybe by being where Danny had departed this world, he could feel close to his brother again.
Adam stood beneath the drooping willow, looking out over the deceptively innocent body of water, but he could no longer conjure the hatred and self-loathing it used to evoke. He had to believe God had a purpose for calling Danny home at such a young age, just as he had to believe his mother’s life was safely in God’s hands, as well.
Adam bent to pick up a couple of flat rocks and skipped them out over the
water, watching the ensuing ripples skitter toward the shore. Events in his life resembled these stones, cast out into new territory, each creating its own set of ripples and consequences. Adam might not understand the way God worked in his life, but he had to trust it was all for the greater good.
One of John’s favorite verses came to mind. All things work together for good to them that love God, and to them who are called according to His purpose. Adam had clung to those words during his time in prison, gleaning hope from the promise there.
He bowed his head and offered words of praise to his Heavenly Father.
Thank You, Lord, for your mercy upon our family. Please pour Your healing graces on my mother and my sister and brother. Bless Colleen and Rylan. Give them strength to deal with the loss of baby Ivy and little Delia’s illness. I pray You see fit to grant healing unto Delia. They need her, Lord. Please use me as Your instrument to help in both these situations to the glory of Your name. Amen.
Feeling steadier, Adam retraced his steps toward the house. He’d stop by the kitchen to see what leftovers Mrs. Harrison had, since he’d missed the midday meal.
As Adam crossed the property, the grass soft beneath the tread of his boots, he found his thoughts turning to Maggie, as they always did when he had too much time on his hands. How he’d hated leaving her at the orphanage that day. Did she suspect how badly he’d wanted to kiss her? To hold her close and bury his face in the silk of her hair?
He thought he’d seen a similar longing in her eyes as they’d said their good-byes. But he’d steeled himself to let her go. It wouldn’t do them any good to ignite a passion that should be left to lie. It would only make them yearn for something that could never be.
He followed the white fence that surrounded the racetrack, intending to enter through the rear door near the kitchen. When he turned toward the house, though, he forgot to breathe. An apparition stood by the stairs leading to the porch, her long hair lifting in the gentle breeze.
Maggie. Had he conjured her from his imagination?
A Worthy Heart Page 23