by Bess McBride
The tiny lady lying in bed smiled at him.
“Thank you, Dr. Cook. I do feel better. I might have Mary help me dress and go outside for a walk today.”
Jeremiah looked at Mary, hovering by her mother’s bedside. He nodded but issued a warning.
“Just a very short outing,” he said. “Nothing too strenuous. You must build your strength. I see a bowl of Martha’s porridge there at your bedside largely untouched. You need to eat. I do not mean to be unkind, Mrs. Woodhouse, but you are emaciated. You cannot improve if you do not take care of your health. Mary can only fetch the food for you. She cannot force you to eat.”
Mary’s cheeks reddened, and Jeremiah favored her with an encouraging nod.
“Yes, Doctor,” Mrs. Woodhouse said with a gleam in her eye.
He knew the lady well enough to suspect that she would do as she wished. It was his job to warn her. He too could not force her to eat. Since the death of her husband from an accident at the timber mill the previous year, she had been declining, and her frailty suggested she had lost her appetite. He worried that she was willing herself into an early death to join her beloved husband, leaving her only child alone in the world.
“Mary needs you,” he said to her with a pointed look.
Mrs. Woodhouse looked at her daughter, who moved to pick up the bowl of porridge.
“I understand your meaning, Dr. Cook.”
“I am glad that you do. I will return to check on you in a few days. Mary, do keep feeding your mother and plying her with plenty of warm tea.” He picked up his bag.
“Yes, Dr. Cook,” Mary replied. “Please say goodbye to Mrs. Peters for me.”
“Mrs. Peters? Who is that?” Mrs. Woodhouse asked.
“She is new to Kaskade, Mama. She is going to work for Dr. Cook.”
“A nurse?” Mrs. Woodhouse asked him. “Has that lovely young woman, Tanya, returned to town? Married?”
Jeremiah swallowed and shook his head. “No, Miss Meadows will not be returning. Mrs. Peters will be doing administrative work for me.”
“But Mary could have assisted you,” Mrs. Woodhouse said. “Why did you not tell us that you were seeking help? At least she could have worked to pay for my medical fees.”
“Mama!” Mary fussed. “I am already employed down at the mercantile.”
“I thought Mary was quite happy at the store.” Jeremiah looked at Mary, whose distress was evident. Such a dutiful daughter!
“I am!” she responded.
“Then it’s settled!” Jeremiah said. “Please do not concern yourself with medical bills, Mrs. Woodhouse. You will pay when you can. If you cannot, then you cannot.”
He checked his watch. “I had better get on to my next patient. Good day, ladies.”
He turned for the door and made his way downstairs. Hearing voices in the kitchen, he walked down the hall, stopping short at the sight of Jefferson Lundrum sitting next to Leigh and favoring her with an appreciative stare.
“Martha, do make sure that Mrs. Woodhouse eats,” Jeremiah said. “She has lost a great deal of weight, and not simply due to her recent bout with pneumonia.” He nodded in Jefferson’s direction. “Good morning, Jefferson.”
Turning to Leigh, he asked if she was ready to go.
“I have one more patient to visit this morning, and several coming to the office this afternoon.”
“Then you do not have time for a cup of coffee?” Martha asked.
“No, I am afraid not.” He smiled at Martha to soften his refusal. He donned his hat.
Leigh rose. “Yes, of course.”
Jefferson rose with Leigh. He held out his hand, and she took his.
“It was so nice to meet you, Leigh,” he said gallantly. “If my old friend Jeremiah treats you poorly, you are always welcome here.”
Jeremiah knew a moment’s irritation. “Why should I treat her poorly?” he snapped.
All three faces turned to stare at him, and he had the grace to be embarrassed at his outburst.
“Relax, old fellow,” Jefferson said with a good-natured laugh. “I was only joking. I am certain Leigh knows that.”
“Oh sure!” Leigh said, though in truth, her confused expression showed that she was not at all certain Jefferson had been joking.
“Silly!” Martha directed the smiling admonishment at her brother. “Leigh does not know us. She would not have known you were teasing.”
She turned to Leigh and held out her hands. Leigh seemed to show some reluctance to join hands, but she allowed the gesture. Jeremiah wondered what she was thinking.
“It is so lovely to meet you, Leigh,” Martha said. “I know you may not feel it now, but you will be a wonderful addition to our town. If you choose to stay in Kaskade, that is.”
“Thank you.” Leigh’s color was high, and she said nothing further.
Jeremiah was on the point of turning for the door, when he heard Jefferson speak. He turned to see Jefferson take hold of Leigh’s hands. Would the pair of them let the young woman go?
“I echo Martha’s heartfelt words, Leigh, and I hope to see you very soon,” Jefferson spoke.
Jeremiah drew in a sharp breath. He knew Jefferson well, heard an absolute sincerity in his voice. One would think the man had fallen in love at first sight!
Leigh’s color was high. He saw her throat move as if she swallowed several times before she withdrew her hands to lace them behind her back.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, dropping her eyes to the floor.
Jeremiah cleared his throat. “Good day, Martha, Jefferson.” He settled his derby on his head. He turned to Leigh, fighting the urge to tug at Leigh’s arm, as his instincts dictated.
“Shall we?” he asked.
Leigh nodded silently, and Jeremiah led the way from the kitchen. He reached the front door and held it open for Leigh. To his dismay, he noted that Jefferson and Martha had followed them.
“Good day again,” he said to the siblings.
“Goodbye,” Leigh said politely as she descended the steps.
“Are you on foot today?” Jefferson asked.
“Yes, we did not have far to go,” Jeremiah replied. “Otherwise, I would have taken the buggy out.” He wondered that he felt the need to provide excuses.
“Of course,” Jefferson said.
Jeremiah and Leigh set off down the road. He noted that Leigh glanced over her shoulder toward Jefferson and Martha.
“Very nice people,” he said.
“Yes, they are.”
Jeremiah searched for words. For some ignoble reason, he wanted to say something uncomplimentary about Jefferson, but he resisted. In doing so, he pressed his lips together.
“So you grew up playing with them?”
“Indeed,” he said.
“Why isn’t Martha married? Isn’t that uncommon in your day and age?”
“Uncommon?” he repeated. “I do not think so. I do not truly know why Martha has not married. Perhaps she has not met a suitable husband. Kaskade is very small, and she is very dedicated to the upkeep of the boardinghouse.”
“She called herself ‘an old maid,’ so she seems to have some thoughts about being unmarried. She’s about thirty, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is.”
“I just wondered,” Leigh said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jefferson saw her watching him. “I am sorry. I do not know. You could ask her, I suppose.” He was on the verge of stating that Jefferson was also unmarried, but as it happened, he actually did not want to remind Leigh of that fact.
“That would probably be rude,” Leigh said. “I just thought you might know since you have been friends for a long time.”
Jeremiah lifted an eyebrow. “I wonder now why I never paid attention to her marital status given, as you say, that we have been friends for a long time.”
Leigh chuckled, the first laughter he had heard from her. The sound was warm and charming.
“Men!” she murmured. “Okay, let me be frank. S
he seems to have a soft spot for you! You didn’t notice?”
Jeremiah paused and turned to her. “Are you suggesting that you believe Martha is enamored of me?”
Leigh shrugged. “Well, I don’t know if she’s enamored, but she seems to be very fond of you.”
“But of course she would be fond of me. As I said, we grew up together.”
“I think it might be a little more than that, Jeremiah.” She shrugged again and began to walk. Jeremiah fell into step beside her. “But it’s none of my business. The last thing I want to do is come here and upset everyone’s equilibrium.”
Jeremiah spotted the home of his next patient, Harry Johnson.
“Equilibrium indeed,” he murmured.
“Actually, Jefferson isn’t married either. Don’t you think it’s odd that none of the three of you has married?”
Jeremiah faltered in his step. “No, I do not. Kaskade is a very small town, Leigh. We do not have as many opportunities to meet potentially eligible spouses as you might think.” He pursed his lips. “I did wonder when you might comment upon Jefferson.”
“You did? He’s a very nice man, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Jefferson is a nice gentleman. Did you like him?”
“Of course,” Leigh said.
Jeremiah shook his head. Why on earth should she not like Jefferson? He was a very fine man. Jeremiah wanted to speak further, but they had arrived at Harry’s small shack. He pointed to the ramshackle tiny building.
“Oh!” Leigh said, her eyes wide as she looked at Harry’s home. “Someone lives in there? It looks like a hut.”
“I am afraid it is little more than a hut, but yes, Harry lives here. He is an old frail gentleman with no family. He never married and has no children. Harry too has been suffering with a bout of pneumonia, but his conditions are more difficult. He has no running water, no working stove, no heat, though it is summer. I fear I must make some hard decisions about his situation today if he is no better.”
“It sounds like he might need to be hospitalized,” Leigh said. “Is that what you mean?”
Jeremiah sighed. “Harry has begged me to let him remain in Kaskade. We do not have a hospital in Kaskade. The nearest is in Tacoma.”
“Oh dear,” Leigh said. “Do you want me to wait out here?”
Jeremiah looked around at the surroundings. Harry lived across from a stable and blacksmith. The dilapidated buildings on either side of Harry’s shack were abandoned, though Jeremiah was not quite certain that squatters had not taken residence in them.
“Kaskade is generally a very safe town, but we do occasionally have itinerant people traveling through. I do not know if they take up residence in those crumbling buildings on either side of Harry’s house, but there have been rumors that they do. I think you should come inside with me.”
“Inside?” Leigh repeated.
Her face blanched, and Jeremiah regretted his decision to bring her given her discomfort with the medical profession. Her next words surprised him though.
“No, of course I’ll go inside.” She lifted her chin and held out a hand, indicating that he should precede her up the rickety wood stairs. He stepped lightly and in turn held out his hand to Leigh to assist her.
Jeremiah knocked on the door, and after waiting for a few moments, he turned to Leigh.
“I will just pop my head in and warn Harry that he has company.”
He pushed open the sagging door and thrust his head in. The shack smelled foul, and Jeremiah’s senses reeled. He had no doubt that Harry had not been attending to his hygiene in the outhouse at the rear of the shack.
“Harry?” he called out into the darkness. Harry’s house had no electricity.
“Doc?” Harry wheezed.
Jeremiah swung the door wide and hurried in. In his haste, he forgot to warn Leigh not to follow.
Harry lay on a thin mattress on his bed. An old cracked chamber pot rested on the floor next to the bed. Spotting a wad of newspapers on the only table in the one-room shack, Jeremiah grabbed one and dropped it on top of the pot to stifle the odor.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, but he expected more light from the open doorway. He turned around and saw Leigh standing in the door, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Please stay on the porch,” he directed. He turned around and set his bag down on the floor.
“Harry?” he said. “You sound terrible. How do you feel?” He felt Harry’s forehead, noting with dismay that it was hot and dry.
“Not too good, Doc,” the old man whispered. “I can’t breathe. I can’t move.”
“You need to go to the hospital, Harry. You cannot stay here like this any longer.”
Harry grabbed Jeremiah’s hand, his grasp weak. “No, Doc. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die here in Kaskade.”
“Harry, I cannot simply turn my back on you and let you die.”
“I’m not going to the hospital, Doc.”
Jeremiah noted a shadow move behind him. Then he felt warm breath near his ear. Despite the circumstances, the sensation was quite pleasing.
“What if I take care of him?” Leigh whispered at his side. “What do I need to do? Is he contagious?”
Jeremiah straightened and looked at Leigh. “Here?” He looked around the shack, unable to imagine her tending to the old man in the absence of electricity, running water, nursing skills and her particular phobia.
“I can take care of him, Jeremiah,” she whispered in his ear again. “He’s terrified, and I don’t blame him. I don’t want to die in a hospital either.”
Jeremiah looked down at Harry, who had started to doze.
“If he won’t go to the hospital, I suppose I could bring him back to the house,” he said doubtfully. He was not in the habit of offering up his home to patients. He did not have the nursing staff to do so, and had no intention of asking Mrs. Jackson to care for the ill along with her other duties.
“That’s even better! Then Mrs. Jackson can help me make some soups or teas or whatever he needs.”
He looked down at Harry, then took Leigh by the arm and guided her out the door to the porch so that they might speak freely.
“Leigh, are you certain about this? He is too weak even to urinate or defecate without assistance. You would have to attend to his hygienic needs. I know you are fearful about medical matters.”
She shrugged and gave him a crooked smile. “I think I can handle it. I need to help you because you’ve been so kind to me, and Harry needs help. I’m more afraid of doctors than I am of patients, if that makes any sense.”
“You owe me nothing, Leigh.”
“Well, I do, but besides that, I feel so sorry for him. Let me take care of him, even if it’s here. I’ll come every day until he gets better. He will get better with better care, won’t he?”
Jeremiah glanced at Harry on his cot. “I certainly hope so. No, I cannot have you in this area alone and without support. I will have him brought to the house. Thank you, Leigh.”
She nodded, and he reentered the house to speak to Harry. He picked up the old man’s dry hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Harry opened his eyes.
“I am going to have you picked up and taken to my house, Harry. A friend of mine, Mrs. Peters, has offered to care for you there. Will that be all right?”
“Your house?” he repeated.
“Yes, here in Kaskade, Harry.”
“Can she come here and take care of me?”
Jeremiah shook his head firmly. “No, Harry. You don’t have electricity or running water, and this area is not a good place for a lady alone. Do you agree to come to my house?”
“Sure, Doc,” he said before drifting off to sleep again.
Jeremiah released his hand and walked out of the shack.
“Let me go over to the stable and see if I can arrange to have him delivered to the house,” he said. “I do not use this stable, but I believe I know the owner.”
He descended the wooden stairs and heard step
s behind him. Looking back, he saw Leigh following.
“Would you rather not wait here on the steps?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll come with you. I should probably travel with Harry, don’t you think?”
Jeremiah pulled his pocket watch out of his vest. He had an appointment in thirty minutes at the office, not enough time for him to facilitate supervising Harry’s transfer. Reluctantly, he acceded to Leigh’s kind offer.
“I do have a patient coming in thirty minutes, but I am loath to leave you here to fend for yourself.”
“I can handle this,” Leigh began to protest, but Jeremiah hurried on.
“I know you are competent, Leigh. It is not that which troubles me. You are so new to our time. You may be in doubt as how to manage things.”
“I can manage,” she asserted again.
“Very well. I cannot thank you enough. Let us go visit the stable so that I can pay for the wagon.”
Chapter Eight
Leigh waved when Jeremiah threw a last glance over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner of a building on his way back to his house. He moved fast, already late to meet with his next patient.
“Are you ready, miss?” the stable owner asked. A burly man with a head of frizzy hair under a cap and matching dark beard, Frank Davis seemed pleasant enough.
Leigh turned around and eyed the hitched wagon. A large sturdy horse stood ready to haul them back to the doctor’s house.
“I am,” she replied.
“Well, let’s go get him. I’m glad to hear Dr. Cook is going to take Harry out of that hovel, even if it’s only until he gets well. I’ve been worrying about him.”
He adjusted the grimy suspenders he wore over an equally soiled gray shirt and dark-green trousers as they crossed the street.
“He’s a small fellow. I’ll carry him over and set him up in the wagon.”
“Thank you!” Leigh said. “I’ll get a few things—a blanket, pillow and some clothing to bring along.”
Frank nodded. They reached Harry’s open door, and Frank stepped in first. He walked over to the bed and looked down on Harry, who appeared to be sleeping.
“He looks bad,” Frank said.