When the Heart Heals

by Ann Shorey

  After tucking the infant into a soft flannel gown, she wrapped him snugly in a blanket and cuddled him close to her chest. “Let’s go back to your mama.”

  She placed Mrs. Haggerty’s new son in her arms and stepped away from the bed. A lamp glowed on a bureau across the room. Dr. Stewart dropped his forceps into a leather satchel, then unrolled his sleeves and fastened the cuffs at his wrists.

  “You need to rest for a few days, Mrs. Haggerty. Is there a neighbor who could look after you?”

  She settled her newborn son at her breast. “No. There’s two ladies at Mr. Bingham’s now, but they’re about as useless as can be. Swan around doing fancy work and reading books. That old man who looks after the place isn’t likely to be much help, either.” She shifted her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. My husband can cook a fair bit. You tell him to come in now, would you?”

  Rosemary followed Dr. Stewart as he strode to the door and swung it open, allowing lamplight to flow onto the porch. The two little girls sat on the top step, bundled into coats against the chill of the evening. Mr. Haggerty sat in a rocking chair behind his daughters.

  He sprang to his feet when he saw Dr. Stewart. “Is Carlene all right?”

  “She’s doing well. You have a healthy son.”

  “I’m grateful to you, Doc, and you too, Mrs. Stewart.”

  Rosemary hoped the dim light hid her embarrassment. “Dr. Stewart and I are not—”

  “Miss Saxon and I are not married.” The doctor cleared his throat. “Miss Saxon is a nurse, employed in my practice.”

  Mr. Haggerty stared at the two of them. “Well, if that don’t beat all. I heard about you, miss, but never figured I’d end up with you in my house. No one told me you worked for the new doc. When he said he was waiting for his nurse, I thought he meant—”

  “Papa?” One of the little girls tugged at his trouser leg. “Can we see Mama now?”

  “Go on in. I’ll be there directly.”

  They scurried through the door. When they were out of sight, he fumbled in his pocket and brought out a small leather purse. “Here’s ten dollars.” He handed two gold coins to Dr. Stewart. “Don’t have to pay extra for the . . . nurse, do I?”

  “Same fee. I’ll compensate Miss Saxon.”

  Mr. Haggerty shook the doctor’s hand, tipped a nod at Rosemary, then dashed inside. As soon as he left, Dr. Stewart took Rosemary’s arm and helped her into the buggy. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour. I’ll take you straight home.”

  “Thank you.” She held her hands in front of her face and blew on her fingers to warm them. For the first time in several hours, she thought of her brother. By now, Curt would have gone home. She hoped he’d stop by in the morning so she could explain her absence.

  While the doctor lit the carriage lamp, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, praying none of the local gossips would notice her late arrival.

  The buggy bounced when he climbed inside and settled his weight on the seat. Yellow light from the lamp splashed the road and a half moon bowled shadows across the track. After guiding the horse down the rutted hillside, the doctor relaxed against the back of the seat.

  “You’ve never assisted at a birth before, have you?” He tilted his head toward her when he asked the question. His tone was conversational.

  Rosemary couldn’t see his features well enough to determine whether or not he was upset. “This is the first time. That particular issue didn’t arise while I was at Jefferson Barracks.” Amusement filled her voice.

  He snorted a laugh. “I imagine not. Not your everyday soldier’s complaint.”

  As much as she appreciated his good-humored response, she regretted making light of a serious question. “Please forgive my flippancy. You had a reason for asking. Did I do something wrong?” She held her breath.

  “On the contrary. You followed instructions perfectly. I’m grateful for your assistance.”

  Dr. Stewart seldom handed out compliments. Relieved, she murmured, “Thank you.”

  As they traveled the distance to town, Rosemary peeked at the doctor’s profile from time to time. The moonlight erased the tired lines that so often crouched at the corners of his eyes. For the moment the young physician she remembered rode beside her.

  A scene from a twenty-bed ward at Jefferson Barracks entered her mind. The night had been late, like this one. She’d leaned over one side of a bed holding a towel while Dr. Stewart administered laudanum to a soldier whose coughing threatened to reopen the stitches in his side. The expression on the doctor’s face showed his own agony at the man’s suffering. She’d observed that same expression when he assisted Mrs. Haggerty through the birth of her son.

  “This isn’t the first time we’ve treated a patient late at night,” she said, then covered her mouth. Perhaps he wouldn’t welcome the reminder. Her brother spoke little of his wartime experiences.

  Dr. Stewart didn’t respond until several seconds had passed. “Why do you say that? Of course it is.” He guided the horse right onto King’s Highway.

  “I mean at Jefferson—”

  He jerked on the reins. The buggy jolted to a halt in front of the house next to Rosemary’s. “There’s a light in your window. Didn’t you say you live alone?” Alarm spiked through his voice. “Someone’s inside. Wait here.”

  Jolene. She grabbed his arm to stop him from jumping out of the buggy. “I have a guest. She must have left a lamp burning for me.”

  “How can you be sure?” He shook her hand loose and coaxed the horse forward to the hitching post outside her gate. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I insist. I want to be certain you’re safe.” He helped her from the buggy and kept a firm grip on her elbow as they walked to the porch.

  The pressure of his hand sent a crack through the professional wall between them. Warmth coursed along her arm. Could it be he saw her as more than a nurse who worked in his office? She faced him when they reached the steps. “Good night.”

  He leaned toward her. She lifted her face, wondering what he’d do next.

  The door swung open. Jolene stepped onto the porch holding the lamp. “I’ve been worried sick. Your brother came here looking for you hours ago.”

  Dr. Stewart swung toward Jolene, then stared at Rosemary. “She’s your guest? What possessed you? We can’t be involved in our patients’ lives.”

  “There’s no ‘we’ to it, Doctor. I am the one involved.” She stalked past him, tucked her arm under Jolene’s, and banged the door behind them.

  7

  Elijah traveled the additional distance to his home in a daze, stunned at finding Jolene Graves in Miss Saxon’s house. Visions of his physician father seared his memory. His father had started with the best of intentions, trying to help the needy, but instead had taken a dishonorable path. Elijah had promised himself he’d never succumb to the same temptations, yet his nurse’s actions were too familiar for comfort. Not here. Not now. Not ever.

  He stabled his horse, scooping extra grain into the feed trough. After hanging the bridle, he brought the carriage lamp from the barn and climbed the back steps to his house. A cold kitchen greeted him. Too weary to bother with a fire, he slumped onto a chair. Without revealing his father’s shameful actions, he had to find a way to tell Miss Saxon she couldn’t continue to house Miss Graves.

  Depression weighted his bones. His steps dragged as he walked through the spacious dining and sitting rooms of his home, removing and discarding his jacket over the back of an armchair. His vest followed, landing on a writing table under the bay window. He grasped the newel post at the foot of the stairs and rested his forehead on its smooth oak surface. A solid night’s sleep would restore his good humor—at least on the face he presented to the world.

  The following morning, Elijah strode toward West & Riley’s for breakfast. He needed something more substantial than his usual oatmeal to fortify himself for his planned confrontation with Miss Saxon.
/>   Thaddeus Cooper overtook him a few feet from the restaurant’s door. “Want company with your eggs?”

  He tacked a cheerful expression on his face. “Sounds good. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  The sheriff tugged at the corner of his moustache. “Been courting Amy Dunsmuir.” His lean face reddened. “She’s the widow gal who looks after old Judge Lindberg. Pretty little thing.”

  The two men entered the restaurant and took places at one of the long tables. Plates and tableware were set before each unoccupied chair. Once they were seated, a serving girl approached with a steaming pot and poured coffee into their cups. Another patron passed a platter heaped with fried eggs and bacon. A bowl of biscuits followed.

  Elijah forked the food onto his plate with a contented sigh. If this didn’t cheer him up, nothing would. Around a mouthful, he asked, “Is that the same Lindberg who owns the mercantile?”

  “Yup. Guess he still owns it. The judge’s mind isn’t quite as keen as it used to be. That’s why Amy looks after him.” He swigged his coffee. “Faith Saxon, his granddaughter, manages the business. She’s the one I warned you about. Her and Miss Rosemary are quite a pair.”

  Elijah considered the sheriff’s remarks as he chewed a strip of bacon. Small towns had histories that took an outsider like himself a long time to decipher. Nothing like Chicago, where he’d lived before the war. There, no one expected to know everyone who had lost a family member in the conflict, or why one neighbor didn’t speak to another. Between Miss Saxon and Thaddeus, he was beginning to understand the community he’d chosen for his practice.

  He slid his chair away from the table. “Time I left for the office.” His mood deflated at the prospect of speaking to Miss Saxon about her guest. He enjoyed the moments they spent together with patients, yet every time they had a disagreement she retreated behind a revetment as unyielding as any he’d seen on a battlefield. He shook his head. No help for it—she’d crossed a line he never thought he’d have to defend.

  “Good seeing you, Doc.” Thaddeus reached for the platter and helped himself to more eggs.

  “Always a pleasure.” The words were rote, but he meant them. After the camaraderie of the Army medical service, he found his spare time in Noble Springs to be lonely. Maybe one of these Sundays he’d visit the church across the street from his house.

  “Rosemary! Someone’s trying to get in your door.” Jolene’s shrill warning sliced through the early morning stillness.

  Rosemary glanced down at Bodie, who dozed behind the cookstove. “Must be my brother. He stops by most mornings. Otherwise the dog would bark.”

  She hurried to the entry and slid the bolt. Jolene scurried partway up the stairs and then paused, watching.

  “Where were you?” Curt said as soon as she opened the door.

  “Good morning to you too. Want to come in, or would you rather stand on the porch and hector me?”

  “Sorry.” He stepped inside and bent to kiss her cheek, then glanced up the stairs at Jolene. “Did Miss Graves tell you I was here last night?”

  “She did. Come where it’s warm and I’ll tell you where I was.” Rosemary spoke over her shoulder as she led the way to the kitchen. When Curt took a chair, she sat at the table opposite him. “Dr. Stewart asked me to assist at a birth out in the country. There wasn’t time to let Faith know I’d be gone.” She leaned forward and rested her hand on his. “I apologize. I knew you’d be worried.”

  “I just don’t like the idea of you being here alone. Anything could have happened.”

  “As you see, I’m not alone right now.” Rosemary folded her arms over her chest.

  “Faith said you’d like me to bring Miss Graves’s things over here.”

  “Yes, please.”

  He lowered his voice. “She also said you plan to visit the girl’s parents.” Frowning, he shook his head. “We can’t get our mother to talk to us. Why do you think you can influence Miss Graves’s family?”

  “I have to try. She needs help beyond what outsiders can provide.” She stood and moved to the oven, wrapped her hand in her apron, and lifted a pan of golden brown biscuits to the stovetop. With a spatula, she scooped three onto a plate and placed them in front of Curt. “Put some honey on these. It will sweeten your disposition.”

  He split open a biscuit and drizzled honey on the cut surface. Around a mouthful, he said, “Meals are another thing. How can you feed an additional person?”

  Rosemary felt a laugh bubble up inside. “Ask me next month. Right now she’s too sick to eat much.”

  He sent her an exasperated look. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “I know. I love you for your concern, but I’m a grown woman. Please let me make my own decisions.”

  After seeing Curt to the door when he left for the academy, Rosemary sagged against the frame. Somehow she’d believed he would support her decision to help Jolene. Neighbors and friends had reached out to them once their parents shut them out. She was merely repeating the kindness. After a moment, she straightened her shoulders. No matter what he thought, she’d done the right thing.

  Wind gusts billowed Rosemary’s cloak as she walked the short distance between her home and the doctor’s office. From habit, she glanced at the hedge growing along the side of her neighbor’s property, looking for Bodie. He’d always accompanied her when she helped Faith at the mercantile. She missed him. Maybe today she’d ask the doctor if he would allow her to bring the dog to work with her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement in the neighbor’s yard. When she stopped to take a closer look, whoever it was appeared to duck behind the house. Her heart fluttered in her throat. Would Jolene remember to keep the back door locked? She turned, ready to dash home with a reminder, then realized she was being silly. Anyone could be walking between the houses. It was none of her business. She gave herself a mental shake and strode toward Dr. Stewart’s door.

  “Miss Saxon.” The doctor emerged from his private office the moment she entered. “I’d like a word with you.”

  From the sound of his voice, whatever he had to say wasn’t good. Remembering his reaction to Jolene’s presence in her home the previous evening, she braced for battle. If he thought he could dictate her private life, he’d better think again.

  She hung her cloak on a hook and faced him. “Yes, Doctor?”

  “It’s about Miss Graves.”

  She lifted her chin, determined not to make the conversation easy for him. “What about her?”

  He grasped the front of his coat, tugging it downward. His face reddened. “You can’t continue to shelter her. How do you think it would look if word got out that she’d been my patient?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Why should that matter? I’ll shelter whomever I want. It’s my home, not yours.”

  “You’re an exasperating woman.” He took a step closer. “It matters because your actions with my patients affect my reputation. People will believe you’re acting under my direction.”

  “You’d have me turn her out on the street?”

  “Just find another place for her to live.”

  “If she had another place, she’d already be there.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I can’t allow you to take in an unmarried girl who’s with child.”

  “That’s the most unreasonable statement I’ve ever heard. She’s already in my home, and she’s not leaving.” She thought about telling him her intention to visit Jolene’s family. Then anger burned through her. He was completely wrong. He didn’t deserve an explanation.

  “I’m not asking you. As your employer, I’m telling you.”

  Rosemary turned and lifted her cloak from the hook.

  “Then you’re no longer my employer. Good day, Doctor.”

  8

  Rosemary stalked toward home, her anger cooling. What had she done? Curt warned her to keep her temper. Now she’d cost herself the job she so desperately needed.

  She drew in a deep breath and held it while she
tried to think what to do next. Buggies and riders on horseback passed by on the street. Sheriff Cooper entered the barbershop on the corner. A small boy darted past, schoolbooks swinging from a strap. Everyone had someplace to go—everyone but her.

  Without any conscious plan, her feet carried her to West & Riley’s. She needed a few extra things now that she was cooking for two people. In spite of what she’d said to Curt, Jolene had begun eating small amounts.

  She’d spend what she had on food and then tomorrow collect what Dr. Stewart owed her for helping with Mrs. Haggerty’s baby. Her mind skittered away from another confrontation with him. She’d worry later.

  Entering the grocery store, her mouth watered at the combined aromas of coffee and fried bacon wafting from the restaurant portion of the building.

  Jacob West strode toward her, a smile lighting his attractive face. “What a fine way to start my day. Has the doctor changed his hours?”

  “No.” She swallowed. “I’ve changed mine, you might say.”

  He cocked his head. “How so?”

  After Dr. Stewart’s harshness, Jacob’s friendly interest was a balm to her spirit. “We had a . . . disagreement. I don’t work for him anymore.” She dropped her gaze, focusing on a crack between the wooden floorboards.

  “He was a fool if he sent you away. I hear nothing but good about your help in his practice.”

  A smile quivered on her lips. “Really?”

  “All the time.” He reached into a glass jar on the countertop and handed her a peppermint. “This’ll make a bad day look better. Now, what can I get for you?”

  “Just a few things. Two pounds of rice, a pound of oatmeal, and some baking powder.”

  “Would your dog like a ham hock? The butcher brought more than I can use.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’d be happy if you’d take it off my hands.”