The pot of yesterday’s stew took little time to warm. Mim entered the kitchen as the rich-scented steam filled the room, and the two sat down to bowls of meat and vegetables in thick broth. A basket of biscuits and mugs of milk accompanied the hearty fare.
As Mim loaded a spoon with food, Letty stopped her. “We first give thanks for our food.”
The child sent her a quizzical look, and Letty chose to show rather than tell. Bowing her head, she said, “Father in heaven, we thank You for the blessings You give us each day. Your love and salvation let us come before You washed clean of sin, and Your bounty strengthens our bodies so that we may do Your will. Bless this food, those who grew it, and those who will share it. I ask for Your healing touch on Your child, Mim, and that You guide me in all I do. In Jesus’ holy name I pray. Amen.”
When they’d finished eating their stew, Letty broke the silence. “I have apple pie. Would you like some?”
“It’s my favorite,” Mim whispered. Her eyes sparkled.
Letty reached for a rose-festooned plate she kept in the cupboard under the window and hoped Mim would soon overcome her timidity. She wanted to become the girl’s friend; she wanted Mim to trust her. Then she might perhaps introduce the child to the One who would heal all her wounds.
The child’s wedge of pie soon vanished. Afterward, Mim sat smiling, relaxed, chin in hand, elbow on the table. By the time Letty cleared away the dirty dishes, her patient’s eyelids drooped.
“Come along, Mim. You need more rest.”
“But that’s all I did today,” she said, her words belying the exhaustion on her battered face.
“That’s all this doctor will let you do for the next few days.”
The girl gave no further argument, and Letty thought she saw relief in the soft violet eyes. She wondered how long the poor mite had been making decisions for herself. Mim was a child, one who still needed the direction of an adult.
After helping Mim to bed, Letty returned to the kitchen and finished cleaning up. As she dried her hands, she heard footsteps followed by a knock.
She found Eric at her door. A very angry Eric.
Before she could invite him in, he marched into the vestibule, taking up more space than usual, seeming taller and stronger than ever.
He yanked his arms out of his coat sleeves and thrust the garment at Letty. “Why must you ignore everything I tell you?” Now unencumbered, he stormed into the waiting room and added, “You’re too pigheaded for your own good.”
Letty closed the door, hung the coat on the hall tree, and followed him, bracing herself against his fury. He paced the perimeter of the small room. When he turned, a muscle twitched in his jaw as it had when Miss Anthony’s speech had angered him. Letty remembered her boarder, and Emmaline Whitehall’s censure.
“I see Emmaline wasted no time spreading the word,” she said, wiping palms damp with anxiety on her gray flannel skirt. She then slipped her hands in her pockets so Eric wouldn’t notice their trembling. “Mim has only been here a few hours.”
Eric stopped in front of Letty. A whiff of bay rum teased her senses. “Here?” he asked. “You have one of those women here?”
Letty stood her ground. “Hardly a woman, Eric Wagner. She’s scarcely older than Caroline Patterson and so badly beaten I couldn’t send her back to those brutes.”
Eric took two steps closer. As near as he was, as infuriated as he was, Letty felt no fear. He would never hurt her or anyone else.
“Of course not,” he scoffed. “You’d rather risk your livelihood for those girls. Why?”
While she appreciated Eric’s interest in her welfare, something else mattered more. “Because everyone turns a blind eye to the problem. These girls need someone to love and care for them.”
“Must you be the one to do it? Isn’t it enough for you to look after your patients and the Pattersons?”
“One thing has no bearing upon the other. I can’t turn my back on girls who hurt not just on the outside but also on the inside. I’m a physician and a Christian. God calls me to serve in His name.”
Letty hoped Mim was a sound sleeper. “Eric, the child has broken bones. I can’t send her back. She’s upstairs and, I hope, still asleep. Please keep your voice down.”
He frowned, and his lips disappeared under his mustache. “You’re housing her, feeding her, treating her. All this for a prosti—”
“How dare you! That’s a child upstairs. One who’s been thrown away, abandoned, and abused by the adults in her world.” She straightened to her full height. “I will not do the same.”
They stood toe to toe, neither giving an inch. Letty took a deep breath, about to challenge Eric to do something good with all that anger, but before she spoke, someone else knocked on her door.
“What a night!” she exclaimed. “I usually read myself to sleep. Now I have a damaged little girl in my bed, you’re steaming like a teakettle, and I might have a baby to deliver.”
She flung open the door, saw Caroline, and assumed the bundle of tattered blanket in her arms hid Willy. Alarm filled her when she realized the little one wasn’t at his usual perch on Caroline’s hip. “Bring him into the examining room.”
“Yes, Dr. Miss. He’s burnin’ up. An’ I cain’t get ’im to move. He jus’ wants to sleep.”
As Letty unwrapped Willy, a cough racked his chest. “Goodness gracious, Caroline. How long has he been coughing like that?”
“Pa broke the window in our room last night,” she whispered. “I tried to keep Willy warm, but all’s I had was ’is blanket. You saw ’is nose back at home earlier. He got the coughs jus’ after you left. He got real hot a while ago, and he’s been like this since.”
Caroline’s words sent icy fear through Letty.
Eric saw Letty blanch. He felt a corresponding shock. Willy could have died of exposure in the early spring chill.
The doctor burst into action. She checked Willy’s breathing, his pulse, his skin tone. She took a stethoscope from the black leather bag, slipped the earpieces into place, and listened to the child’s chest. Her teeth worried her lower lip.
Eric’s rage found a new object upon which to focus: the irresponsible Horace Patterson. The children’s resourcefulness impressed him in view of Slosh’s neglect.
“I believe it’s bronchitis, and I thank the Lord it’s not pneumonia,” Letty diagnosed after patting the thin chest with the bell-shaped instrument. “The deep, congested sounds in his chest and his fear while breathing tell me he’s fighting thick mucus. He’s also very drowsy. Antimonium Tartaricum should work wonders.”
She dissolved pellets in a small amount of water and spooned drops of medicated liquid between Willy’s lips. When the cool fluid touched his tongue, the child turned his head, and a dribble slipped from the corner of his mouth. Letty spooned in some more.
“Willy is fortunate,” Eric murmured, watching her repeat the process. He then asked Caroline about the broken window and, from her description, figured he could make temporary repairs with some wood and nails.
When Letty couldn’t coax the baby to take more remedy, she hugged him close and began to hum.
“What did you do with my coat?” Eric asked her. “There’s a broken window to fix.”
Letty flashed him the most radiant smile he had ever seen. “Thank you,” she whispered then bent back to the baby.
“Letty,” Eric said, needing to be on his way, “my coat. I must return these two to their beds.”
She closed her eyes. Frown lines appeared on her brow. “Couldn’t I . . . oh, Eric, could I please keep them? Must they go back to that house?”
Eric knew regret. He’d have given her the stars if she asked, but these children weren’t his to give. “They have a father, if not a good one,” he said.
Letty cuddled the baby tighter. Her longing glance swept Caroline from head to toe. Silently, she swaddled Willy again and handed him to his sister. Turning her back, she went to a shelf, opened a remedy jar, and counted a numbe
r of pellets into a dark amber-glass vial, capped it, and gave it to Caroline with the necessary instructions.
Letty’s concern moved Eric, and a knot tightened his throat. He coughed to clear it away. At the sound, she turned her startled gaze toward him. “Oh, yes. Of course. Your coat is on the hall tree by the door.”
As he left, Eric realized just how dangerous Letty Morgan was. She had just broken through his protective wall once more.
10
While he took the Patterson children home, while he repaired the broken window, and even during the return trip to town, Eric thought only of Letty. Whether he wanted it or not, she’d found her way into his heart. He had tender feelings for Hartville’s lady doctor.
That didn’t mean he would act on those feelings. He’d told Letty about Martina, and in the telling his anguish had lessened. The dark misery hadn’t returned since that afternoon in the barn, and he’d even found the courage to enter his dead son’s room, to grieve his loss. It seemed Letty had doctored even him; his healing had begun.
Although the pain had diminished, the facts remained the same. He’d proven a terrible candidate for marriage, and Letty deserved marriage. Eric could never offer marriage to a woman again.
A woman needed a man strong enough to help her through any adversity life sent her way. Eric had lacked the strength to protect Martina when her notions threatened her life. He’d failed to live up to the vows he had once taken before God.
Martina had trusted him, and he’d betrayed that trust. “You know so much more than I about such matters,” she’d often said, her blue eyes speaking her love for him, her hand patting his. She’d often admired his physical strength and always deferred to his intellect. If love had stripped him of the strength to care for such a gentle lady, how much less equipped was he to meet the needs of a woman as formidable as Dr. Letitia Morgan?
He could never be the spouse, protector, and provider she needed. Only a man who didn’t let his emotions—his love—blind him to his duty could aspire to that role. Eric didn’t dare accept Letty’s trust. He couldn’t risk betraying her at a vulnerable moment. For her sake, he had to keep his feelings from growing.
He could, however, try to protect her without her knowing. Letty didn’t seem to know when to stop. She’d taken on the medical needs of Hartville, especially those of the women and children, and as the days went by, she spent more time with the Patterson children. Now, as if she didn’t already bear enough of a burden, she’d decided to take in young tarts.
He admired how she stood up for her beliefs, but this time she’d gone too far. She needed help, and he’d make sure she got it. This time he wouldn’t let his feelings keep him from doing his duty by a woman he cared for—he wouldn’t let love make him a coward. He had to save Letty from herself. Like Martina, she was too stubborn for her own good.
Urging his horses to a faster pace, Eric soon reached Silver Creek Church. He secured the team and ran up to the manse.
“Eric!” Adele Stone ushered him inside. “How may we help you?”
He knew how the fervent matchmaker would view his request, but he couldn’t avoid it. Letty needed help.
Glancing in the oak hall mirror, Eric saw that he still wore his hat. He tugged it off and twisted the brim with his fingers, wondering how best to voice his request. “I don’t need help, Mrs. Stone, Le—Dr. Morgan does.”
“Oh, no. Has something happened to that dear child?”
Eric squashed a curse. “I’m sorry, I’m not doing this well. No, Le—Dr. Morgan is quite well. Or at least she was when I last saw her a few hours ago, but she has gotten herself into a predicament.”
Mrs. Stone tightened the belt of her wine-red robe, reminding Eric of the late hour. About to apologize for his intrusion, he saw Mrs. Stone’s determined expression. He kept his peace.
She wagged a finger at him. “If it’s about her consorting with pros—er . . . with soiled—you know what I mean. At any rate, I don’t believe a word of it. Letitia Morgan is a fine, upstanding young lady who wouldn’t have a thing to do with fallen women.”
“There’s the problem. Dr. Morgan has been in contact with some of them. Twice, in fact.”
Mrs. Stone gasped.
He continued. “It came about because of her efforts to help the Patterson children.” He then described the scene outside the brothel, the injuries the two girls had suffered at the hands of Bessie’s patrons, and finally, how Letty planned to care for Mim, who had decided to leave that life.
Smoothing his mustache, Eric chose his next words with care. “Dr. Morgan has patients, she’s helping the Pattersons, and now she’s helping these two young tarts. She even has two roosters and three hens in her kitchen. It’s too much for one woman, even though she won’t agree. I fear she’ll exhaust her health. That’s why I need your help.”
Mrs. Stone crossed her arms over her bosom, a raised eyebrow accenting her frown. She held Eric’s gaze as she weighed his words.
“Of course we’ll help Dr. Morgan,” said Pastor Stone, who had descended the stairs unnoticed. “We’ll help her and the girls. Hers is a godly mission, one to which our Lord calls us. Scripture says, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ In fact, I’m ashamed it took the doctor’s efforts to show me my error.”
The pastor’s words settled the matter for his wife, and she started up the stairs. “I’ll dress quickly so that we can go to Letty’s house and collect the child. The pastor and I have more room here than she does. Most likely, she’s given the girl her own bed.”
Eric nodded. Yes, the little fool had. Affection and his reluctant admiration now gentled his irritation with Letty’s behavior.
At Letty’s house, they received no response to Eric’s knock. He waited and then tried again, louder this time. Still no answer. Then when he tried it, the doorknob yielded, and he pushed the door ajar.
Mrs. Stone followed him to the examining room, and both came to a stop. The doctor slept curled up on her examining table, a thin sheet over her slight form.
Eric’s anger boiled again.
Mrs. Stone clucked and said, “I’ll fetch Mim. You can carry our good doctor to her bed once it’s vacant. Surely between the two of us we can take care of these two girls.”
The pastor’s wife woke Mim and explained the situation, gently dispelling the girl’s distrust and wariness.
“I’ll still work for Dr. Morgan,” Mim said at the end of the conversation.
“Of course,” Mrs. Stone said. “Once you recover you can help the doctor all you want. Now, however, you’ll help most by coming with me and giving Dr. Morgan her bed.”
Eric admired how Adele Stone handled the situation, and he tipped his head in silent recognition. The older woman smiled and winked. He left the room to give Mim the privacy to dress, and before long, the two joined him in the examining room. He went to wake Letty, but the pastor’s wife stopped him.
“No, son,” she said. “It’s best if you carry her upstairs. Just place her on the bed and cover her. She needs her rest, so for once she can sleep in her clothes.”
Eric studied the inveterate matchmaker’s expression, wondering if she was indeed trying to strike yet another match, but her face revealed only concern. He set his suspicions aside and, after bidding her and Mim good night, he returned to Letty’s side.
With one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, Eric lifted Letty, surprised by how light she felt.
As he stepped toward the stairs, she stirred in his arms. A sigh escaped her lips, followed by a whisper that sounded somewhat like his name. He paused. Then, still asleep, she curled her arms around his neck. Her gesture caught him off guard, and he nearly dropped her. When she nuzzled his neck and murmured, his longing returned.
She whispered his name again.
Carrying his precious cargo to the bedroom in the eaves, his gaze caressed her pretty face, relaxed in sleep. Tenderness filled his hear
t. He reluctantly set her on the bed and drew up the covers. He ran a finger over an eyebrow, down her straight nose, over her cheek. She was so soft, so warm.
But he had to be strong. He was well aware that she shared the attraction, and as the more experienced of the two, he had to stay in control. He walked away.
“Eric?”
Her sleep-soft voice stopped him short of the doorway. He didn’t dare face her; he doubted he could mask his yearning and need. “Yes.”
“Why are you here?” She glanced around the room as if to orient herself. “Mim!” she cried. “Where’s Mim?”
Blast it, she wasn’t going to let him escape.
“Mim . . . well, Pastor and Mrs. Stone want to house the girl. You need your bed.”
“And just how did they learn of her using my bed?”
Eric’s cheeks caught fire. “I saw the dark circles under your eyes earlier this evening, and I know how great a burden you’re bearing, so I fetched help on my way home from the Pattersons’.”
The feisty light of indignation appeared in Letty’s eyes. “I had very few patients today, and I don’t see how caring for a few children is too much work at all. Besides, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a keeper, Mr. Wagner.”
“Kindly stop that Mr. Wagner hogwash you start when you don’t like what I do. I’m sick of your ‘No, Mr. Wagner,’ ‘I don’t like that, Mr. Wagner,’ ‘You did the wrong thing, Mr. Wagner.’ I, too, am an adult and don’t need your permission to care for you, Letitia Morgan.”
Letty stared, her thoughts whirling, her heart pounding. Had Eric just said what she thought she’d heard?
Mustering what dignity she could, considering a man stood in her bedroom, she rose. “I told you once before, Eric, I won’t be a kept woman. You needn’t concern yourself with my needs. I see to myself.”
“So that’s why tonight you gave your bed to a harlot?”
“That child needs your sympathy and assistance, not your condemnation. Have you no mercy?”
“Plenty.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “And I act upon it when necessary. I saw a need earlier this evening. You obviously don’t know the risk you’re taking, much less recognize your needs. You need my mercy.”
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