CHAPTER 21
The next day, Jonathan stopped at the door to the military hospital, willing his feet to keep moving. Was he making a huge mistake? He took in a breath, forced his mind to think of Emma and their amazing kiss last night and the reasons why he needed to conquer his inner demons.
She’d actually kissed him back, and for the first time, Jonathan had hope that they might share a future together. And if so, she deserved a whole man, not one broken on the inside.
“You need a minute before we go in?” Beside him Reggie leaned on his cane. He’d made great strides in wearing his new leg. Today marked the first occasion to wear it in public.
“I’m fine.”
“There’s no shame in being apprehensive. I think treating a physical injury is easier than what you’re facing.”
Jonathan agreed. He’d far rather be dealing with a gunshot wound, something tangible he could worry about. The horrors in his head were something he might never be able to erase. “You ever have flashbacks, Reg? Nightmares?”
His friend grimaced. “I did a few times, especially right after that last battle. But I think the fact that I was hit from behind and blacked out right away saved me.” He gestured to Jonathan. “You saw everything—the bodies and the destruction. I escaped all that.”
“Maybe so.” For a moment, he envied his friend and immediately hated himself. Reggie had lost his leg and his fiancée. “You don’t have to come in with me, you know. I’ll be fine.”
“Hey, it’s like I told you. You were there for me. Now it’s my turn.”
“Thanks.” Jonathan inhaled deeply. “Let’s go.”
They took the elevator to the third floor, where the main offices were located. They found the right place and entered a comfortable-looking waiting area, entirely different from Dr. Clayborne’s dingy office in the basement. Plush chairs sat around the perimeter of the room, flanked by tables with a variety of newspapers and magazines. At least Reggie would have a nice place to wait.
Jonathan gave his name at the reception desk, then sat down.
“It was nice of Doc Clayborne to get you in with his own doctor.” Reggie flipped through a magazine. “He must be good if he fixed the doc.”
Jonathan threw him a wry glance.
“Not that you need fixing.” A flush invaded Reggie’s cheeks.
“No, mate. You were right the first time. I do need fixing. I’m just not sure if that’s even possible.”
“You’re in the best of hands, if that’s any comfort.”
“It is. Thanks again for coming with me.”
“What are friends for?” Reggie tossed the magazine down with a grin. “While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me more about your fabulous date with Emma?”
Emma watched her sister attempt to lift her leg. “That’s it, Marianne. Five more repetitions on that side.”
While she waited, Emma could barely resist the urge to twirl about in the middle of the room as a way of expressing the joy bursting inside her. Life could not be going any better. This morning, when Emma had approached Randall, he had wholeheartedly agreed to her idea for a fundraiser at the children’s hospital. In fact, he’d been so enthused by the concept that he’d already started making phone calls and plans.
To make this day even sweeter, he’d smoothed the way for Emma to work with Marianne twice a week after Marianne’s tutoring in the afternoon. She could tell that Vera hadn’t readily given her consent, and that he’d had to put down his foot about the matter. Yet Emma was determined to win the woman over—if not by helping Marianne, then by assisting Randall with his campaign. After all, wasn’t one of Vera’s worries, and Mr. Fenton’s as well, that Emma posed a threat to Randall’s career? By joining efforts to improve Randall’s public image, they would see how sincere she was in her desire to help her father achieve his dream.
And then there was Jonathan . . . Her pulse sped up just thinking of him.
“Emma, I’ve finished that exercise. Which one is next?” Marianne’s question pulled Emma from her daydreams.
“Sorry, love. I got distracted.” She crossed the room to remove the weights from Marianne’s legs. They’d been using the music room as their exercise studio, mainly because of the wooden floors and open space. Other than a grand piano and a music stand, the room was virtually empty. Marianne told her that Corinne also used the room for her dancing lessons and for her oil painting, since the large windows afforded great light in the area.
“You’re doing wonderful, Marianne. One more set and then you can rest.”
The girl smiled, but the perspiration shining on her forehead bore evidence of the effort the exercises were taking.
“Don’t push her, but at the same time don’t go too easy on her,” Dr. Hancock had said. “Slowly increase the repetitions until she can do each exercise with little exertion. At that time, I’ll give you some new ones to implement.”
Emma grabbed a wooden chair and moved it over to the bench where her sister sat. “I’m going to assist you with this one,” she said, taking a seat. She lifted one of Marianne’s legs and took her foot in her hand. “I want you to push your foot as hard as you can against me. Almost as though you were trying to push me off my seat.”
Marianne giggled. “That wouldn’t be very nice, would it?”
“Don’t worry about being nice. Or about hurting me. I’d be thrilled if you actually knocked me over.” Emma smiled. “All right, whenever you’re ready. And hold it as long as you can.”
After ten minutes of Marianne’s valiant pushing, with one leg proving stronger than the other, Emma set her foot down. “Very good. Now you rest and I’ll get you a drink of water.”
“Wait, Emma.”
She stopped, worried that she’d overtaxed her sister. “What is it? Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” But Marianne’s cheeks seemed a touch too red.
“Shall I help you into your chair?” Emma fanned the air in front of her. “Let me get you that water.”
Marianne shook her head and threw Emma a pleading look. “I want you to help me stand up.”
The air whooshed from Emma’s lungs. As much as she’d love to grant Marianne’s every wish, something told Emma it was too soon. “Oh, honey, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You need more time to strengthen your legs before you attempt that. It would defeat our purpose if you fell and hurt yourself.”
Marianne jutted out her chin. “I’ve done it once before. I know I can do it again.”
“But that was with Dr. Hancock, right?”
“He’s more qualified to know if you’re ready. Why don’t we wait until next week when you go to see him again?”
Marianne frowned and scooted toward the end of the bench.
Emma reached out to place her hands on the girl’s shoulders, just in case she had the notion to try standing on her own. “You don’t want to undo all the hard work you’ve put in. Come on, let me help you back into your chair.”
“Emmaline is right, Marianne. Your muscles have worked hard today and need time to recuperate.”
Emma stiffened at Vera’s cool voice. She offered up a quick prayer of thanks that she’d followed her instincts and not tried to help Marianne stand up.
“Cook has a snack ready for you in the kitchen. I’d like to talk to Emma in private, please.”
“Yes, Mama.” Marianne’s thunderous look didn’t match the meekness of her reply.
Emma wheeled the chair over and helped her sister into it, glad she was now adept at doing so. “I’ll come in and say good-bye before I leave.” Emma smiled brightly, yet her stomach jumbled at the thought of being alone with Vera.
As soon as Marianne wheeled out of the room, Emma braced herself for what was to come.
“I’m sure you know I was against you working with my daughter,” Vera said in a clipped voice. She folded her arms over her chest, her rope of pearls bouncing at her neck.
“Yes, and I want to thank you for allowing me to. I only want to help, and at the same time, get to know Marianne better.” Emma smiled. “She’s a wonderful girl.”
The rigid planes of Vera’s face softened a fraction. “Thank you. She is indeed a special child.” Vera went to move the chair Emma had been using back against the wall. “Randall accuses me of babying her too much. I can admit that he’s right about that.”
Emma rushed to help Vera lift the piano bench Emma had used for Marianne’s therapy.
“I came by to make sure that you didn’t overdo these exercises.” Vera set the bench down by the piano. “Thank you for not giving in to my daughter’s request.”
Emma straightened. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Moore. I promise I’m following the doctor’s instructions to the letter. Although I will admit I was tempted by her pleas.”
“She does have a way of making you want to grant her every wish.” Vera smiled, and it struck Emma that she was actually a very attractive woman. “There’s another topic I’d like to discuss.”
“Yes?”
“Randall told me about your idea for the hospital fundraiser.”
Emma held her breath. Would Vera veto the whole project?
“I think it’s a fabulous idea. An event like that would give my husband the right kind of attention to boost his image.”
“That’s exactly what I thought. People need to see him as more than just a law professor.”
Vera tilted her head. “You’re a very astute young woman. I was worried that you being here might derail Randall’s career. But I’m seeing now that you could actually be an asset.”
Emma’s heart soared. Had she really won the woman over at last? “That’s all I ever wanted. To get to know my father and to help him in any way I can.”
“Randall has already received approval from the hospital board to go ahead with the event. He’s asked for my assistance in getting this project off the ground, which is going to require a Herculean effort on everyone’s part since the only date the hospital had available was July 19.” She studied Emma. “Would you be willing to work with the campaign team on this?”
“I would love to.” Emma hardly dared to breathe.
“Good. Let’s schedule a meeting with the committee so we can all put our heads together.” She led Emma out into the hallway. “We’ll need all the help we can get to pull this off within such a short time frame.”
“I’m ready and able. I’ll do anything I can.”
“Excellent. I’ll be in touch.”
The next morning, Mrs. Chamberlain entered the dining room where Emma sat sipping the last of her morning tea. “You seem very happy this morning,” she said. “Anything you care to share?”
Emma laughed. “Did my silly grin give me away?”
“That, and the humming I heard earlier.” Mrs. C. set a tray on the table. “Does this have anything to do with your dinner with Jonathan the other night?”
Heat climbed into Emma’s cheeks. “That’s part of it.” Another smile bloomed. “The other is that I’m finally making headway with my father and his wife.” Emma had recently confessed to Mrs. Chamberlain the true nature of her relationship to Randall.
“That’s wonderful, dear. I’ve been praying hard for just such an outcome.” She loaded the rest of the breakfast dishes onto the tray.
“You and me both, Mrs. C.” Emma set down her cup. “Jonathan kept telling me it would just take time. I guess I was too impatient.”
“As Reverend Burke is so fond of saying, the best things in life are worth waiting for.” Mrs. C. chuckled. The woman seemed extremely fond of the minister, often inviting him over for tea and scones. He, and now Jonathan, were the only men Mrs. C. let in the house.
Emma stood and placed her cup on the tray. “Speaking of Reverend Burke, you two seem awfully chummy. Anything you care to share?”
“Good gracious, child. At my age?” Mrs. C. chortled. “No, we’re merely friends. After each of us lost our spouses, we took comfort in our shared grief. But he has his life, and I have mine.”
“You could have a fine life together.”
For a moment Emma thought she saw a wistfulness pass over her landlady’s face. “I think it’s too late in the game for that. Now you, on the other hand, have many wonderful years ahead with that young man of yours.”
Emma opened her mouth to protest. It was the years ahead that were the problem. To acknowledge her feelings for Jonathan would mean that he would likely expect her to return to England with him. And with her relationship with her father finally improving, Emma was not prepared to walk away from the family she’d just begun to know. Yet how could she deny her longing for Jonathan?
“Take some advice from a woman who’s lived a good life: Don’t let a fine man like Jonathan get away. It’s clear to these old eyes how much he cares for you. A gift like that is rare indeed.”
The doorbell rang, and Mrs. C. hurried down the hall to answer it, leaving Emma somewhat disturbed by the woman’s words. It was almost as if she knew Emma had been having mixed emotions since her date with Jonathan. While she got light-headed at the mere recollection of their kiss, she was unsure how to act around him now. Part of her wanted more romantic moments, more wonderful kisses. The other part worried that if something went wrong, their friendship might never be the same again. And that thought terrified her.
“Emma, there’s a young lady to see you. She’s waiting in the front room.”
Emma frowned. Who could that be? Maybe Doris had come to see how she was doing after being let go from her position at the office.
“Thank you, Mrs. C.” She walked slowly down the hall and entered the parlor, then stopped in surprise.
Corinne stood by the fireplace, her purse clasped tightly in her gloved fingers. Though immaculately dressed in a peacock-blue skirt and white blouse, tension radiated from her frame. Her features were pinched, her lips pressed together.
“Corinne. Is everything all right?” Alarm leapt into Emma’s throat. “Is Marianne—”
“She’s fine.” Corinne’s voice was flat. “I came to speak to you about something else.”
Emma gestured to the sofa. “Please sit down.”
“No, thank you. I need to stand.”
A surge of compassion rose in Emma’s chest. No matter how unkind the girl had been to her, she was her sister after all, and still so very young. She walked over to Corinne. “I can see that something is upsetting you. What can I do to help?”
Instead of accepting Emma’s gesture, sudden anger seemed to rise in Corinne’s eyes. “Nothing. And after you hear what I have to say, I’m sure you’ll want to rescind your offer.”
Emma bit back a sigh and said a quick prayer for guidance. “Go on.”
Corinne lifted her chin with an air of defiance. “I was the one who spilled the ink in your drawer.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. Even though she’d suspected Corinne might have been responsible, hearing it stated so blatantly was a shock. And from the girl’s tone and body language, Emma knew it had been no accident. “Why, Corinne? Why would you do something like that?”
The girl shrugged and shifted from one foot to the other. Emma waited for more of a response, but Corinne remained stubbornly silent.
A flash of heat rose in Emma’s chest. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve never done anything to you. All I wanted was to get to know my family.”
Corinne’s head jerked up. “We’re not your family.” The furious words erupted from her. “Papa is my father. Marianne is my sister. The job at the university should have been mine too.” Corinne’s cheeks blazed red and her body shook.
Emma stiffened at the sheer force of Corinne’s anger. But she held her ground, determined to get the animosity out in the open once and for all. “I see,” she said slowly. “You feel threatened by me. That I might take something that belongs to you.”
“You’ve already done that.” Corinne stalked across the room to stare out the front window. “Papa caters to you, Marianne dotes on you, and I’m forgotten. Nobody cares how I feel.”
Though the girl was exaggerating, her hurt was real. Hurt that had started, Emma suspected, long before she ever showed up. Yet Emma had to acknowledge that while she’d been trying to win Randall’s favor, she’d never taken the time to consider Corinne’s point of view. Never thought that Corinne might be vying for his attention too. Or that perhaps she suffered from feeling less important.
A wave of sympathy rose, replacing the momentary anger. “I’m sorry, Corinne. I had no idea. I suppose I’ve been a trifle selfish. And, to be honest, somewhat jealous too.”
Corinne whirled around. “Jealous? Of who?”
“Of you . . . and Marianne. You got to grow up with a mother and a father—my father—while I believed myself to be an orphan. All my life, I longed for the type of family you have.” She smiled sadly. “Perhaps I’ve been trying too hard, hoping that one day I might belong—like you.”
Corinne’s mouth fell open. She blinked several times but said nothing.
Emma took a hesitant step toward her sister. What was done was done, and in truth, Emma didn’t really want her job back anyway. She had nothing to lose by being generous. “Now that I’m no longer working at the university, perhaps you can talk to your father about getting the position. If he hired me on a trial basis, I don’t see why he wouldn’t give you the same chance.”
A hardness returned to Corinne’s features. “He won’t after you tell him what I did. That I’m responsible for your getting fired.” She flung out her hand in the direction of the door. “I’m sure you can’t wait to run over and tell him.”
Emma remained still. She’d assumed that Randall had sent Corinne over to confess. If her father didn’t know, what had prompted this visit? “What made you come here today, Corinne?”
She stared at the floor. “Papa says if we wrong someone, we have to admit our mistake and make amends.”
“But he didn’t make you come. And I’m having a hard time believing you had a sudden attack of conscience. What’s the real reason?”
Corinne’s bottom lip trembled. “It’s Will.” The words rushed out, and moisture glistened in her eyes. “He figured it out and”— she gulped in some air—“he won’t even speak to me now.” Tears broke loose and slid down her cheeks.
Emma took her by the arm and guided her to the sofa. She handed the girl a handkerchief and waited while she sobbed. Emma sighed, and not knowing what else to do, bowed her head. “Lord, I ask for your guidance and wisdom. Corinne needs your help to fix this situation, to atone for her mistakes. Please show her the best way to do that. And help me to understand and forgive my sister. Amen.” Then she reached out and took one of Corinne’s hands. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how we handle them that shows our true character.”
Corinne blew her nose. “I-I’m sorry for ruining your work and getting you fired.”
An actual apology. Could Emma be making a tiny bit of progress? “It’s all right, Corinne. I forgive you.”
The girl’s head snapped up. “You do?”
Emma nodded. “I don’t think I’m meant to be a typist anyway. I tried so hard to do a good job, but for the life of me, I couldn’t seem to get through one letter without making a hundred errors.”
Corinne’s lips twitched. “Will said you wasted a lot of paper.”
“More than a lot.” Emma laughed. “You’re welcome to take the position, if your father agrees.”
For the first time, Corinne’s features relaxed. “You’re not going to tell Papa?”
Emma held Corinne’s hopeful gaze. “From what I understand, being a tattletale is a cardinal sin among siblings, is it not? We sisters have to stick together.”
“I-I don’t know what to say . . . except thank you.” Corinne squeezed Emma’s hand.
Emma swallowed a rise of emotion. “You’re welcome.” She paused. “And if you think it would help, I could talk to Will. Tell him that you’re truly sorry and that you apologized to me.”
Hope fluttered over the girl’s face. “You would do that after I’ve been so horrible to you?”
“Of course I will. If you’ll do something for me.”
A shadow of suspicion flashed over Corinne’s features. “What is it?”
“Will you help me with Marianne’s exercises when you’re able? That way all three of us can get to know each other better.” Emma held her breath. She hoped Corinne would want to spend time with her, not feel forced out of some guilty sense of obligation.
“What if I say no?” Her chin jutted out.
“Then I’d be disappointed. But I’ll still talk to Will and put the poor man out of his misery.”
A flicker of hope sparked in Corinne’s brown eyes. “You think he’s miserable?”
“I’d bet my last shilling.” Emma grinned. “After all, he’s quite smitten with you, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Corinne let out a long breath and gave a tentative smile. “Maybe having an older sister won’t be such a hardship after all.”