12

Rosemary forced herself to remain calm in light of Jolene’s obvious distress. Leaning against the porch railing, she asked, “Did Cassie say something to upset you?”

Jolene shook her head. “She treats me fine. It’s Galen French. He said he wants to come courting. Did his ma tell you?” She made a sound partway between a laugh and a sob. “He thinks I’m a lady. I can’t let him find out different. I want to go home.”

Taken aback, Rosemary surveyed the young woman’s face. Since the morning sickness had subsided, her cheeks had taken on a rosy tint. With her walnut-brown hair and golden eyes, she’d draw the interest of any man. Right now those eyes held a frantic expression.

“At supper this evening we’ll ask my brother if he can take you.”

“Can you come too? Ma and Pa won’t light into me so bad in front of strangers.”

“I’d be happy to accompany you.” She rested her hand on Jolene’s shoulder. The thought of seeing Jolene reconciled with her parents lifted her heart. It would be her turn to say “I told you so” to Curt.

Rosemary sighed, wondering how she’d managed to commit every free minute of what should have been a restful day. When she entered the house, Bodie bounded over to her, his tail whisking back and forth. “Oh, mercy, I forgot about your walk.” She glanced at the clock in the sitting room, then dashed upstairs to change from her gray leather slippers to sturdy boots. If she hurried, she and Bodie could circle the block and return before two.

She left the house, walking east along the residential section of King’s Highway. When she reached the corner, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Dr. Stewart entering a two-story brick house across the street. Astonished, she realized she’d worked with him for a month and not known he lived four doors away.

“Come on, Bodie. Hurry.” Averting her head, she turned south.

Elijah leaned forward, hands resting on his writing table, and gazed out his bay window. Miss Saxon’s dog frisked in front of her as she walked in the direction of the railroad tracks. Over the past week he’d observed her friend Miss Haddon accompanying her home from Lindberg’s Mercantile in the evenings. Then this morning, both Miss Haddon and Miss Graves attended church with her. Taking in strays seemed to be a penchant of hers.

He settled in an armchair next to the window and opened a copy of the New York Medical Journal. After flipping past several pages without reading a word, he dropped the periodical on the table. A walk would help him focus. He stood to don his jacket when a closed carriage stopped out front drew his attention.

Torn, he glanced at Miss Saxon’s retreating back. Whoever his caller might be, the person had thwarted his opportunity to pretend an accidental encounter with his former nurse.

Elijah stepped away from the window, but not before he caught a glimpse of the carriage’s occupant. His scalp prickled. He could refuse to answer the door, but what if the man had seen him through the glass? Knowing him, he’d stand on the porch and pound on the wooden panels all afternoon.

With a sense of doom, he strode to the entryway and opened the door.

“Father. This is more than a surprise. You should have written ahead.”

Dr. Carlisle Stewart glared at him from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” His voice wheezed.

Elijah stepped aside. “Of course.” The elder Dr. Stewart’s well-tailored garments concealed his bulk, but years of prosperity had left their mark. Though they were the same height, he outweighed his son by at least fifty pounds. His sanguine complexion resembled the burgundy he liked to consume.

He handed his hat and coat to Elijah, then sank into one of the armchairs in the sitting room, leaning back to accommodate his belly. He cast a disdainful glance at his surroundings. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. You could do better.”

“I like it here.” Elijah gritted his teeth and seated himself facing his father. “You didn’t come all the way from Chicago to criticize my house, did you?”

“I didn’t come to criticize you at all. I’m here to ask for your help.”

He braced himself. His father saved that jovial tone for coaxing patients to allow him to perform painful procedures. “You don’t need my help with anything. Your practice has made you rich. The woman you married after Mother died is young and beautiful. What could you want from me?”

“I want you to return to Chicago as my partner.” He fumbled in his breast pocket and removed a handkerchief. After blotting his forehead, he balled the linen cloth in his fist. “You could carry on after I’m gone—inherit my patients and my bank accounts.”

“Your wife will expect the bank accounts, and I don’t want any part of your practice. I’ve said so more than once.”

“My wife left me last winter for younger pastures. Apparently she grew tired of waiting for me to die.” He surveyed the room. “What do you have against a successful business? Did you take a vow of poverty?”

“I earn enough to get by.”

For a moment, his father’s face sagged. Downward lines fanned from the corners of his eyes. Before compassion had a chance to grow in Elijah’s breast, the lines hardened into their accustomed steely ridges. “You’re my only child. If a man can’t depend on his own family, who does he have?” He pushed himself to his feet and lumbered to the door.

His conscience pricked, Elijah trailed after him. “Please, spend the night before leaving for Chicago.”

“Not going to Chicago. I’m returning the carriage to a colleague in Hartfield and taking the train north in the morning.”

How typical of the man. He’d never travel just to visit him—he made the trip to see a colleague. Elijah was an afterthought, as always.

Carlisle Stewart swiveled to face his son. “My offer stands. When you get tired of beans and bacon as payment for your services, let me know.” He crossed the porch and strode toward the street.

Elijah gripped the door frame, trying to ignore the guilt that threatened to send him running after the carriage. Was he being manipulated? Or did his father truly need him? At any rate, he’d never stomach his father’s covert dealings with wealthy clients. Until that changed, he’d remain in Noble Springs.

As he stepped inside, an open buggy rolled past. Jacob West held the reins and Miss Saxon sat on the seat beside him. He banged the door shut. All he needed now was to find rats in the attic to make this a perfect day.

Rosemary tightened her hold on her hat as Jacob urged the team into a trot along King’s Highway. The redbuds had faded since her visit to the Graves’s farm earlier in the month, but the dogwoods were at their peak. The countryside wore a cloak of spring green. “This is my favorite time of year. I like all the flowers.”

“I like having more customers. People come to town when the weather’s better.” He kept his eyes on the narrow road.

She searched for something else to say that would draw him into conversation. For a moment she wished she’d paid more attention when her mother attempted to teach her social graces.

Jacob broke the silence. “A wagon’s coming.” He slowed the horses and guided them onto a grassy verge. Once they stopped, he met her eyes. “I’m glad you agreed to come out with me this afternoon. I hope we can become better acquainted.”

In their dealings at the grocery, she’d never taken time to pay attention to him as a man. With his darker skin and black moustache, he reminded her of illustrations in The Arabian Nights. Gray hair flecked his temples. Her heart stirred at the yearning written across his handsome face. Yet as hard as she tried, she felt nothing more for him than friendship.

“You’re very kind. I always enjoy the opportunity to visit the country.”

The oncoming wagon pulled even with them. Over Jacob’s shoulder, she glanced at the couple on the seat and gasped. Without a doubt, the tiny woman in the sunbonnet was Jolene’s mother. The rangy man with the lined face who held the reins must be her father. Once the two reached Noble Springs, inquiries would tell them where she lived. A pulse pounded in Rosemary’s temple. She wanted to be at home to provide moral support before Jolene’s parents found her.

“Jacob . . .” She hesitated. To ask him to take her home now would be an affront after what he’d said.

He looked at her, waiting.

The Graves’s wagon rolled out of sight around a bend.

“I must ask you to take me back.” She pointed at the dust trail that lingered over the road. “I fear that wagon is headed for my house.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You were expecting them when you accepted my invitation?”

“No, certainly not. I believe they are the parents of one of my guests—Miss Graves. She may fare better during their visit if I’m present.”

“She’s in danger, then?” Puzzlement clouded his voice. “Miss Haddon is with her, is she not?”

“Miss Haddon is indisposed this afternoon.” Rosemary clenched her gloved hands together in frustration. If she could, she’d take the reins and drive the buggy herself. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s a private matter. Please, if we turn around now, I’ll be most grateful.”

“As you wish.” He clicked his tongue and steered the team west onto the road. “Since our time together today is so brief, would you accompany me again next Sunday?”

She realized she was leaning forward, silently urging the horses to greater speed. She relaxed against the seat and nodded. “That would be very pleasant. Thank you.”

One more Sunday wouldn’t hurt and would relieve her of the guilt she felt over ruining his afternoon. Now if he would only stir the team to a faster clip. Her stomach knotted at the thought of Jolene facing her parents by herself.