CHAPTER 17

Corinne stretched luxuriously in her bed and hummed to herself, remembering the wonderful events of the previous day. Her graduation from high school. The ceremony at the Academy and the grand party afterward.

It was everything she’d hoped for—except that she’d had no time alone with Will. In fact, she’d barely gotten to say hello or acknowledge the gifts he’d brought. One had been from Emmaline, which Corinne had pointedly ignored, gushing instead over Will’s present: a new edition of the Oxford dictionary, inscribed Affectionately yours, Will.

Corinne glanced at her dresser, where the book sat beside the unopened box from Emmaline. Why had Papa even invited her? Didn’t he realize that Corinne wouldn’t want her there? At least he had the good sense to seat her at the farthest table, where she wouldn’t interfere. That is, until that horrid photographer had pointed her out. Why did Mama hire him to take the pictures? Surely there were more qualified professionals she could have engaged. Knowing Mama, there was another reason why she chose him, though Corinne couldn’t begin to fathom her mother’s motives.

Fifteen minutes later, she headed down for breakfast, amazed to find her father at the dining table. The delicious aroma of pancakes and maple syrup filled the room.

“Good morning, Papa. What are you doing still home?” Even though it was Saturday, he usually went in to work for several hours.

He laid aside the newspaper and smiled at her. “I wanted to spend some time with my daughter. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Her father took the day off work to be with her? Excitement filtered through her chest. “Really, Papa? I’m so glad. What shall we do?”

“I thought we’d take a little drive around the city, then I’ll treat you to an early dinner at Chez Marie’s.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She took a seat and pulled a napkin across her lap. A maid appeared with the platter of pancakes and placed some onto Corinne’s plate.

Papa cleared his throat. “Tell me, Corinne, do you still enjoy painting?”

“I haven’t done much lately, but yes. Now that I have more time, I’d like to start sketching again.”

“Wonderful. Then perhaps we should visit the museum today. I hear they have an amazing Impressionist exhibit on display right now.”

“That sounds perfect.” She leaned to one side while the maid filled her juice glass. “Thank you, Ellen.”

Papa poured himself another cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting over to her. “After that, perhaps we can drop in to the English department at the university. Collect some brochures and see what courses are available.”

Corinne set her fork down with a clunk. “I thought I made myself clear. I have no desire to attend university.” She reached for the teapot, annoyed to find her hands unsteady.

“If English isn’t to your liking, I’m sure we can find something more suitable. Perhaps some courses in fine art?”

“No.”

Papa’s brows thundered together. “Then what do you plan to do with your time? You’re far too intelligent to just sit around this house all day long.”

“I intend to enjoy the summer, and in the fall I will join Mama with her charity work. She can always use the help.” She glanced up at her father. “I also thought I could assist Will with your campaign. I think we’d make a great team.” If she couldn’t work with Will at the university, then this was her next best option. She hoped Papa would be thrilled with her interest in his political career.

However, his mouth pulled down at the edges, and he released a slow breath. “I don’t know, Corinne.”

“Papa, what on earth would I do with an English degree? Join Mr. Wainwright at the newspaper?” She gave a light laugh to cover her discomfort and smiled brightly, her tried and true method of getting her way with her father.

Sure enough, he shook his head and chuckled. “I guess you have a point. But my darling girl, you have so much potential. I want you to do something great with your life. Please promise you’ll give the matter some serious thought.”

“That’s one thing I can do.” She smiled again and took a quick sip of tea to hide the gleam in her eye.

Little did he know that she’d given her future a great deal of consideration and had come to one unavoidable conclusion: The only thing she planned to accomplish was becoming Mrs. William Munroe.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to spend more time with you yesterday, Emma.” Marianne maneuvered her chair farther back into the hospital elevator car while Emma pushed the button for the third floor. “I wish you were at our table. Then we could have talked all night.”

As the elevator jerked into motion, Emma banished her disappointment from the evening before and forced a smile. “It’s a good thing that we have all day together today then. I was so happy when you asked me to come to your therapy session.”

The girl’s invitation had indeed lifted Emma’s spirits considerably. She’d been in her room, attempting to write in her journal. Wallowing in her disappointment, Emma could barely put pen to paper, and instead had spent most of the morning staring out her bedroom window. She’d even briefly considered taking Jonathan’s advice and booking a ticket back to England. After all, if her father was never going to accept her in his life, what was the point in staying where she wasn’t wanted?

Two things stopped her. First, the idea of disappointing Marianne. And second, the subtle and disconcerting shift in her relationship with Jonathan. On two separate occasions now, she’d sensed he’d been about to kiss her. The jumble of emotions that had rioted through her both times had left her shaken and unsure of where their relationship stood.

Jonathan had always been her best friend, her honorary brother.

Then why did his nearness scramble her pulse lately? Make her palms sweat and her breathing shaky?

Now that she thought back, there’d been a change in Jonathan’s reaction to her ever since he returned from the war. Heat warmed her cheeks as she recalled the embrace he’d given her upon their reunion at the train station, the way he’d held on to her as though she contained the very air that sustained him. He’d actually wept, which had rattled her, but Emma had simply put it down to the effects of surviving the atrocities of war. Could it have been more? And if so, how did she feel about that?

Her heart fluttered at the thought.

Until she had time to sort through her feelings, she could not commit to going back to England with him.

“Emma?” Marianne’s voice broke through Emma’s confused thoughts. “The elevator has stopped.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Emma grasped the handles of the wheelchair and steered Marianne into the hospital corridor. “Which way?”

“To the right. Follow the signs to the physical therapy room.”

A few minutes later, they entered the designated area, and Emma was immediately fascinated with the array of equipment. When she glanced down at Marianne, however, the girl’s face had drained of color, and she clutched the arms of her chair with white-knuckled anticipation.

“Are you nervous?” Emma asked softly.

Marianne shook her head. “I just don’t like the exercises they make me do. They’re painful.”

Emma bent down to eye level. “I always find a reward helps me endure something unpleasant. How about we go for an ice cream sundae when you’re finished?”

“With whipped cream and cherries on top?” The spark of life in her sister’s eyes brought a smile to Emma’s lips.

“Absolutely.”

“And don’t forget the nuts,” a male voice said. “Sundaes aren’t complete without crushed walnuts.”

Emma straightened quickly to see a tall, handsome man dressed in a white coat enter the room, his gray eyes twinkling. He didn’t appear much older than Emma, yet he must be to have finished medical school.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Hancock, Marianne’s therapist.” He held out a hand to Emma.

“Emmaline Moore, Marianne’s . . . cousin.” She shook his hand.

“And where is Mrs. Moore today?”

“She had an emergency board meeting to attend,” Marianne said. “I asked if Emma could take me today, and Mama said it would be all right.”

Dr. Hancock turned his smile on Emma. “I’m very glad she did.” He pointed to a chair on the far wall. “You may have a seat over there while I get started with Marianne.”

“I’d like to observe a little closer, if I won’t be in your way,” Emma said. “I thought that maybe I could learn some of the simpler exercises so I could practice with Marianne at home.”

“Do you live with the family?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “But I could come over several times a week and work with her, unless that would be stepping on anyone’s toes.” She looked at Marianne. “Does your mother like to help you with that?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No, Mama doesn’t like to do anything physical. Sometimes Papa makes me do exercises, but only when he’s not working or out at meetings.”

“What about Corinne?”

“Heavens no.” Marianne giggled. “She doesn’t even like coming here with me.”

“So I’ve noticed.” The doctor grinned. “For a while I thought it was me she was trying to avoid.” He wheeled Marianne’s chair over to a set of parallel bars and a bench with some weights. “Let’s get your muscles warmed up first.”

The doctor elevated the girl’s legs onto the bench. Then he opened the lid of a metal box, reached inside with a pair of tongs, and lifted out a towel. “We use heated towels to relax and loosen the muscles before we begin,” he explained to Emma. He folded one towel and laid it across the length of one leg, then repeated the procedure with a second towel. “Now we wait five minutes for the heat to do its work.” He winked at Marianne.

“This is the easy part,” Marianne replied. “It’s the rest that isn’t so nice.”

“I’ll do my best not to hurt you.” Dr. Hancock’s features became solemn. “My mission isn’t to cause you pain, but unfortunately a little discomfort is necessary to get the muscles to function again.” He glanced over at Emma. “If you’re willing to work with Marianne at home, her future sessions might go much easier.”

“I’ll do my best. If her parents allow it.”

The doctor frowned. “Why would they object?”

Emma’s back stiffened. How could she explain without telling him the whole ugly story? “I’m sure it will be fine.” She smiled at him, hoping he’d let the matter drop.

He studied her, then nodded. “That would be a big help.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been suggesting they hire someone at home to do the exercises with Marianne, but I’ve sensed some resistance, which puzzles me. Why go through the trouble of bringing her here if they don’t really want the treatment to succeed?”

“Why indeed?” Emma shook her head. So many of her father’s attitudes remained a mystery to her. Would she ever get behind his façade and learn his true motivations?

“Sit or stand wherever you’re comfortable, Miss Moore. And if you have any questions, you may ask at any time.” The doctor turned back to Marianne and removed the towels.

The next forty minutes passed by in a flash while Emma watched with admiration as the doctor worked. True to his promise, he used the utmost gentleness with Marianne, backing off immediately as soon as he perceived the actions were causing too much discomfort.

“When will we try to stand again, Dr. Hancock?” Despite her fatigue from the draining exercises, Marianne still seemed optimistic.

“If you continue to work at home, we might be able to try in a few weeks. If I feel the muscles are strong enough.” He patted her shoulder. “And don’t forget to work on your arm strength as well. The next step in getting mobile would be metal leg braces and arm crutches. You’d have to be strong enough to bear your weight on your arms.”

He turned his full focus on Emma. “Would you like me to write down some of the exercises you can do with Marianne?”

“That would be helpful. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I’m glad Marianne has someone willing to work with her. I expect we’ll start to see great improvements over the next few weeks.”

Emma smiled but inwardly wondered at the battle she might face with Marianne’s parents. Why wouldn’t a mother do everything in her power to help her child walk again?

Perhaps she’d have a private conversation with Randall and let him smooth the way for Emma’s assistance.