He could picture the whole scene in his mind. The beautiful woman laid to rest in the casket, the children hovering around their governess’s knees. He could hear the organ music as they all stood in the large sanctuary. Somehow he knew that the beautiful woman was his wife, but he couldn’t recall her name. He knew their relationship had been strained, if nonexistent, since he’d returned from the war, but he couldn’t remember why. Was he sad that the beautiful woman had died?
No.
He remembered feeling apathetic, even annoyed at having to leave his business for this much overdone funeral! Thank heaven Richard had taken the time to plan everything.
The service, replaying so vividly in his mind, ended, and he remembered calling for the children’s governess. He recalled that she was one of many who had come and gone throughout the years.
Yes, that’s right. He and his wife sported a very demanding lifestyle.
And then he remembered more . . . the elegant dinners in lavishly furnished mansions, the parties and fine affairs. Was that what killed her? The beautiful woman? His wife?
No. No. He remembered that she’d frequently been ill.
In his mind’s eye, then, he watched as the middle-aged governess prepared to take the children away. He remembered it was close to Christmas, and he had promised the kids he’d come home for dinner. They could open a present early. In memory of their mother.
However, he never made it home that night. He rarely did. Business took precedence in his life, especially during the off-season, and attending social functions was essential to his economic success.
But what exactly was his business?
He saw himself at his wife’s funeral again, the vision unfolding like a scene from a play. He stood conversing with several prominent citizens who had come to pay their respects. They were important people in the community, he remembered—
Except he couldn’t think of their names or which community!
“Mr. Pirate Blackeyes?”
He recognized Nurse Fields’s voice at once, and its soft timbre swung him back to the present. He wished he could see her. She sounded so beautiful. Amusement frequently laced her tone, and he imagined that she stood over him now, smiling at the new nickname. Mr. Pirate Blackeyes.
He felt her warm hand come to rest upon his arm. Her touch reassured him somehow. This darkness could be so frightening at times, irritating at others. But Nurse Fields had become his fragile link to the world beyond this blackness and the images that taxed his memory.
“Are you awake?” she asked.
“Yes, of course I’m awake.”
A pause. “You’ve been sleeping for most of the day, you know.”
“I have?” He felt puzzled. “But you were just giving me a shave—”
Her palm gave his arm a comforting pat. “That was this morning, Mr. Blackeyes. It’s suppertime now, and I brought you a tray. It’s beef stew . . . I think.”
“You mean you don’t know for sure?” He grimaced.
She laughed, a light and delicate sound. “Try it and let me know.”
The challenging note hung between them. She helped him into a sitting position before placing the tray on his lap.
“On your right, at one o’clock, is your coffee—I managed to get you a cup.”
“You’re most kind, Nurse Fields.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.
He felt her closeness and smelled the increasingly familiar scent of the soap she used, like roses and soft powder. He inhaled deeply. She was like a breath of fresh air compared to those women he knew who doused themselves with French perfume.
“And at about three o’clock are your utensils.” He had to force himself to pay attention. “At nine o’clock is your napkin, and at eleven o’clock is a slice of the apple pie from your breakfast.”
“I’ll eat that first. At least I know it’s safe—and delicious. Compliment your mother for me, will you? My own cook, Isabelle, couldn’t even match that, I’m sure.”
“Isabelle!” Nurse Fields gasped in what sounded like delight. “You’ve remembered someone else! Very good!”
He heard the rustle of her skirts now as she moved away. “Are you leaving?” He hoped she’d stay. This darkness could be so very lonely.
“Yes. I am expected at home, and I’ve already stayed here too long. But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask my father to come back and visit you tonight. He works at the Chamber of Commerce in the exchange room where they sample grains, and he is a very faithful man in our local church. Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to speak with someone as dedicated in both faith and business as my father.”
“I’d like that.” Somehow he sensed that she was smiling at him from where she stood at the side of his bed.
“You may have come into this hospital a pirate,” she said on a teasing note, “but you’ll leave here a man of God!”
That seemed doubtful, but he pushed out a polite smile. What might such a conversion entail? It sounded drastic. From pirate to parson? Surely not! But something vague came to mind when Nurse Fields mentioned the grain exchange.
“Yes, please. Ask your father to come. I’m desperate for the company anyway.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
A little laugh, and then he heard her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she walked away.
•••
Renna couldn’t help smiling as she left the hospital. The late summer sun shone from the sky but the wind had shifted, and now cool breezes blew off Lake Michigan. It suddenly felt a bit like fall here in Chicago.
As she walked the near mile home, Renna held her grin. Da would be the perfect companion for Mr. Blackeyes this evening. Da would likely read to him from the Bible—assuming Mr. Blackeyes agreed to it. Hearing the Word of God was exactly what that handsome pirate of a man needed in order to grow in his new faith.
The memory of him telling her how pretty she smelled this morning still lingered. Renna had felt awkward around him all day. He had a virile way about him that frightened Renna, for his manner implied he knew women very well. And of course he would, since he was a married man.
He’s married. Renna tried to shake the man from her thoughts. She shouldn’t think about him as anything other than a patient. And yet he spoke to her in such a personal manner. How could he with a wife and children? It didn’t say much for his character.
But things were different now. The pirate claimed to be saved by grace.
A fact that should please his wife greatly.
Renna continued with her walk home. She inhaled deeply, reviving her senses after the hours she’d spent in the sick ward. She admired the well-maintained lawns and white picket fences of her city neighborhood not far from the downtown area. It was by far the most exciting part of Chicago. This side of town had the stores, hotels, and other public buildings, such as the Chamber of Commerce building—where her father worked—and the courthouse.
She nodded politely as she strolled past those with whom she was acquainted, keeping a hand on her bonnet so it concealed the birthmark and didn’t fly away on the wind.
Finally she reached her block, where homes were slightly better than average. But Renna didn’t care about mansions and wealth. She was happy with her common existence . . .
Wasn’t she?
She suddenly spied her father climbing down from his buggy.
“Well, well, it’s about time you fluttered home, my little wren.”
Renna grinned, knowing he meant to tease her for arriving home as late as he did.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that a man can work from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.”
Nibbling her lower lip, Renna couldn’t contain her laugh. “You’re so poetic, Da,” she teased right back.
He tethered his horse to the hitching post. Then he and Renna walked arm in arm through the gate and up the walk to the front porch stairs.
“You work too hard, my little wren.” They reached the front door. “It isn’t right. You’ll grow old before your time.”
“Oh, Da, please . . . don’t start on that subject.”
“I don’t like to see you looking haggard.”
Renna brought her chin back. “My appearance is so bad?”
“No, no . . . ”
Da opened the door and motioned for Renna to enter ahead of him. Stepping into the small front hall, she pulled off her gloves and removed her bonnet.
“Don’t be insulted. I’m merely trying to protect you.”
Renna swallowed an exasperated sigh. She and her father—and all her family—discussed her occupation numerous times before. As a dedicated nurse, she worked long hours and sometimes odd shifts at the hospital. And, although she’d admit that her back ached and her limbs felt weary, she couldn’t just quit. What would she do? Society deemed her a spinster, so without a family of her own, she had to bide her time somehow. At least she was needed at the hospital.
Which reminded Renna of her pirate.
“Da, are you busy tonight?”
He looked a bit surprised, as she’d changed the subject rather quickly. “Why do you ask, Ren?”
“Well, it’s my patient. You know, the one you, Mum, and I have been praying for. Mr. Blackeyes.”
“Ah, yes. And what about him?”
“He needs some fellowship, Da.” Renna smoothed the folds of her skirt. “He’s so lonely. I try to keep him company when time permits, but what bothers me is that . . . ” Renna tried not to blush as she confided in her father this way. “Well, from what Mr. Blackeyes has remembered, it’s quite apparent that he’s married. And, well, he’s . . . he’s all too familiar with me, Da. I believe he’s probably been something of a lady’s man, and some of his words and gestures make me terribly uncomfortable.”
“I see.” A heavy frown settled on Da’s graying-blond brow. “I take it that nursing Mr. Blackeyes was easier when he was unconscious, eh?”
“I’m afraid so.” Renna let a grin slip.
“Well, then, let’s see what your mother has planned for me tonight, and if there’s nothing pending, I’ll visit with Mr. Blackeyes for a while.” He cocked a brow and added, “It would be my pleasure.”
“Now, Da . . . ” Renna shook her head at him. “I’m an adult, not sixteen. You don’t have to protect me.”
“Your age doesn’t prevent me from being your father, and without a husband—”
“All right, Da. I appreciate your willingness to visit with Mr. Blackeyes.” Renna stifled a groan. Would she ever live a single day without being reminded of her spinsterhood?
Well, no matter. The important thing was, pending Mum’s approval, Mr. Blackeyes would have some good company tonight.
•••
Hours later Renna paced the parlor. As it happened, Mum had nothing planned for Da tonight, so after supper he climbed into his carriage and went over to the hospital. Now Renna anxiously awaited her father’s return. She hoped that Mr. Blackeyes would somehow remember more of his past. But, most of all, she prayed that he would get a taste of God’s Word and want to take his faith seriously.
“Renna, what about tomorrow night?”
Her mother’s soft voice interrupted Renna’s thoughts of Mr. Blackeyes. “Tomorrow night?” She turned her attention to Mum.
“Dinner.” Mum sat in a nearby armchair with mending in her lap. “Everything’s all planned.”
“But I work all day.”
“Could you, perhaps, ask off early?”
Renna shook her head and Mum sighed. “I must finish my shift or else the hospital will be short-staffed.”
Mum seemed disappointed.
“What’s happening that you need me here at home?”
“Your father invited his associate, Matthew Benchley, to have dinner with us.”
Renna had heard of Da’s young, unmarried associate before. “Mum, I don’t want to meet Mr. Benchley. I know he is an eligible bachelor, but—”
“And Mr. Benchley is the right age for you too, Renna,” Mum added. “He’s not too old. It’s hard to find an unmarried man over thirty and under fifty.”
Renna cringed inwardly. “Why do you and Da insist upon finding me a husband? I’m too old to be a bride. In fact, I don’t think I want to marry.”
“Oh, now, Renna . . . you don’t mean that. Every woman wants to get married.” Mum tipped her head, and several coppery tresses fell onto her forehead. “Clyde Montgomery was rather nice.”
Renna replied with a half-smile and a shrug. She supposed Mr. Montgomery had been nice enough, although he’d been fifteen years her senior. But his age hadn’t bothered Renna. Even the man’s ill-mannered fourteen-year-old son hadn’t discouraged Renna completely. It was Mr. Montgomery’s habit of addressing Renna as if he spoke to a very slow child and not a woman with a brain in her head that she found most infuriating. What’s more, Clyde Montgomery had claimed to know the Lord in a personal way; however, Renna didn’t see any evidence of his faith in his life. The latter had been the deciding factor.
“I understand, though, why you didn’t marry him,” Mum continued. She slipped her needle in and out as she darned socks. “But your father said Mr. Benchley is quite different. He’s not a widower. He has never been married, and Abigail Hoffmann told me that he’s very charming.”
Already warning bells went off in Renna’s head. Abigail Hoffmann was not a good judge of character, bless her heart anyway.
“So why do you suppose Mr. Benchley never got married?” Renna ceased her pacing and took a seat on the rose-colored divan.
Johanna Fields smiled, but her gaze remained on her sewing. “Perhaps he’s waiting to meet you, dear.”
Renna rolled her eyes.
“I’ll ask your father to send a message to him. We’ll dine later in the day so you can join us.”
Renna resigned herself to the fact she wouldn’t easily get out of tomorrow’s dinner arrangement. She would just have to attend and do her best to have a good spirit about it.
•••
The tall grandfather’s clock in the parlor chimed ten o’clock as the front door opened. Renna quickly stood and watched as her father entered the house. Mum had already gone to bed, but as exhausted as Renna was, she forced herself to stay awake until Da came home.
“How did it go with Mr. Blackeyes tonight?”
“Very well, my dear.” He stepped farther into the parlor. “The nurses allowed me to stay past visiting hours. Of course, they know that you’re my daughter. I suspect they did me a special favor.”
Renna grinned. “I’ll be sure to thank them tomorrow.”
“We spoke quietly. I’m sure that helped.”
Impatience got the better of her. “So what happened?”
“Well . . . ” Da inhaled deeply, and the chest of his tan waistcoat puffed out. “I began with reading the Bible, starting with the book of Genesis. I figured that would be a good place. With God’s creation. And, oh, Mr. Blackeyes had the questions!” Da smiled and shrugged out of his dark brown suit jacket. “My, my . . . ”
Renna smiled. “Anything else?”
“I got as far as chapter twenty, just after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.”
“That’s good.”
“But I didn’t want to give Mr. Blackeyes too much too soon.”
“Very wise.”
“So, we talked for a while.”
“What about?”
“Things in general.”
“And?”
Da gave her a little grin. “And he’s a widower, my little wren.”
Renna averted her gaze. “A widower?” Why did she suddenly feel so hopeful?
“Yes. He remembers that his wife died, around Christmastime last year, but he can’t recall her name. He remembers, however, that he has children. Gabriel, Michael, Elizabeth, and Rachel.”
“He remembered their names,” Renna whispered in awe. “His memory is returning.”
“Indeed.” Da cleared his throat now. “And I have a vague sense that I’ve met this man somewhere, but I can’t place him.” He shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll come back to me eventually.”
“You think you might have met him before . . . ” Renna’s voice trailed off. She strode to the cold limestone hearth and toyed with a few knickknacks on the mantel. “And what about his . . . well, you know . . . his—”
“Getting too familiar with you?”
Renna blushed but nodded.
“I spoke to him about the matter, and he has promised to apologize in the morning. I believe him. He does nothing but sing your praises, Renna.”
“Well, he should be singing praises to God, not me!”
Da chuckled again. “In due time, daughter. I’m going to visit him again tomorrow afternoon—if your mother doesn’t object, that is.”
Disappointment flooded her being. “Mr. Benchley is coming to dinner tomorrow.”
Wendell Fields snapped his stubby fingers. “That’s right. How could I forget?” He smiled.
An idea formed. Renna arched a brow. “We could cancel it.”
“Yes, but—”
“Postpone it then?” Renna sent him a pleading look.
Da seemed to guess what she was up to and wagged his graying head. “You don’t want to meet Matthew Benchley?”
She shook her head. “I’ll meet him if you want me to, I guess.”
Da sighed. “Renn, we’ve had this conversation before—about your birthmark. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The reason you don’t want to meet Matthew?”
“No, I . . . it’s just . . . ” She gestured helplessly. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“I would have thought you’d gotten over that. My dear, one scarcely notices it at all. Now, then . . . ” Da came toward her and put his arm about her shoulders. “You must overcome this fear you have of meeting new people.”
“I’m not afraid, exactly.”
“No one notices the birthmark, Renna. Just you.” Da hugged her before moving away slightly. “Let’s remember, vanity is a sin. And it’s vain to be so self-conscious.”
Renna squared her shoulders. “Da, how can you say I’m vain? Have you ever experienced the look of horror on people’s faces when they first meet you? No, of course you haven’t. But I have!”
“Renna, it’s not horror on their faces; it’s just surprise. They’re surprised to see the birthmark on your cheek—just at first.” Da lifted one of his bushy brows. “I hope you’re not harboring an unforgiving spirit, Renna, toward those who might have hurt you in the past.”
She clenched her jaw and turned around without another word. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, affecting both her mind and tongue. She didn’t trust herself to reply. Of course she wasn’t vain or unforgiving. How could Da insinuate such a thing?
“Good night,” she said in a clipped tone as she headed for the stairs.
“Good night to you too, little wren.”
Da’s gentle tone did nothing to sooth her temper, which soured all the more as she thought about dinner tomorrow evening. She traipsed down the dark hallway to her bedroom, loathing the very thought of meeting Da’s associate.
But she would. She loved her father and knew he wanted only the best for her. With a deep sigh she resigned herself to his matchmaking schemes yet once more.