Chapter 5

Dr. McNair cooked breakfast the next morning.

A flush heated Grace’s cheeks as she sat down to a table that seemed effortlessly prepared. Pancakes as golden as Mrs. Ackerman’s. Sizzling bacon that made her mouth water. Apple slices elegantly arranged in a bowl. He, a man, had done it all. Which only further compounded her failures.

He pulled back his chair and sat down, tucking a napkin into his shirt. She folded hers and laid it across her skirt.

“Everything looks delicious.” She managed a smile.

“It’s not very hard, and I’ve had years of practice.” He returned her smile.

Not very hard? Easy for him to say. She supposed he could also make biscuits fluffy as air and gravy creamy as pudding.

Dr. McNair asked the blessing before getting up from his chair and pouring coffee. Grace played with the edges of her napkin as steam swirled upward from her mug. She should be the one pouring while he sat and ate breakfast. Not the other way around.

“I’m going to be in my clinic most of the day.” He lifted a forkful of pancakes to his mouth.

She nodded and took a tiny nibble of bacon.

“If you need anything for the house or kitchen, don’t hesitate to go shopping. Just add it to my account. I pay the bills at the end of the month. Of course, in my profession, people often pay in trade, rather than in money. So things like eggs and milk I usually get in exchange for services.”

She nodded again.

“If you’d care to, you can come down to the clinic later and I’ll show you round.”

“Very well. After I do the dishes.” Though her empty stomach protested, she could scarcely eat a bite. What with him sitting across from her, able to observe her every move. They’d shared many meals together at the Whittaker home, but he’d always been Audrey’s betrothed. Not Grace’s husband.

“Fine. Fine. If you like, we could take a walk this evening, go visit your father. I’m sure he’d appreciate it. And if there’s anything you’d like to get from the house, you could do so.”

Like cookbooks? The old alarm clock? She hated being the last awake in the morning.

And a new set of brains.

“I’d like that.” She took a sip of her coffee.

He pushed back his chair. “Well, that’s settled then. We’ll walk over after dinner.” He tossed his napkin on the table beside his empty plate. “I’d best be getting downstairs.”

She nodded.

“Later, then.” He made a bow as politely as if they passed each other on the street.

As quickly and efficiently as she could, Grace did the dishes. Thank goodness, she at least had experience in that regard. After making sure the kitchen was in proper order, she untied her apron and went downstairs, stopping at the waiting-room door. This was his domain. Did she dare enter? Well, why not? He’d invited her, after all.

She pushed open the door. No patients sat in the waiting room, so she gave a rap on the closed examining room. She’d scarcely drawn her hand away before it swung open.

“Oh, thank the saints above you’re here, Grace. I need your help.” Dr. McNair dashed back inside. She followed him in.

And screeched to a halt.

A man sat on the exam table. Coughs and gasps emitted from his large form as he deposited the contents of his stomach into a basin Dr. McNair held. Vomit covered the floor, the man’s clothes, and the table. Grace pressed a hand to her mouth and took a step back.

“Don’t just stand there, Grace. Get that pitcher of water and a towel and help me clean this up!” Dr. McNair’s tone could have belonged to the captain of a warship. “Now, Mr. Cooper, I need you to take some of this. It will absorb whatever it is that’s upsetting your system.”

Dizziness swooshed over her. She gingerly crossed the floor and grasped the pitcher and a towel with shaking hands. Water splashed onto the floor. The man’s hacks and heaves rang in her ears. The rancid odor of bile sent nausea rising up in her throat. She looked helplessly at the mess on the floor then back at Dr. McNair. Spots danced before her eyes.

She couldn’t do this. Not wasting another second, she ran from the room and out the door. Kept going until she left the clinic and stood on the steps, gulping in fresh air, leaning against the edge of the building to steady herself.

Awful. It had been just awful. And he’d expected her to help with such a thing? How could she have summoned the nerves for it? She sucked in a deep breath, letting the warmth of the sun soak into her. She should go back in and assist. But how? Nausea threatened just thinking about it.

Tears needled her eyes. She was a failure. Not at all fit to be a doctor’s wife. She couldn’t cook, and she sure couldn’t handle medical matters. The only things she did well were run a first-rate dry goods store and keep a house tidy. The second might prove useful but never the first.

A strand of hair blew in her eyes. She swiped it away.

Lord, why am I so useless? Why can’t I be beautiful, brave, and an amazing cook? Why do I run whenever something upsets me?

She stared up at the cloudless sky. Obviously the Almighty didn’t know, either.

Then she’d just have to conquer it herself. Starting with going back inside and seeing if there was anything she could do to help.

This time, no matter what she faced, she wouldn’t run.

Now that he’d cleaned up the mess and had Mr. Cooper comfortably settled with some charcoal water to drink, a wave of guilt assailed Raymond. Who did he think Grace was? A Johns Hopkins intern? Her first introduction to his practice and he’d asked her to do something that made even him a wee bit queasy. She’d never want to come downstairs again. He’d acted without thinking, caught in the urgency of the moment, and she’d fled quicker than a frightened rabbit.

He needed to apologize and ought to do it quickly before she decided to pack her bags and go back to Whittaker Dry Goods indefinitely.

The door to the exam room opened. He turned. Grace stood outside. He followed her and closed the door, leaving Mr. Cooper resting within.

“You must think me a weak-kneed ninny.” She met his gaze, apology in her eyes. A strand of hair dangled near her ear, brushing her creamy skin. He nearly reached out and ran it between his fingers but drew his hand back before he could attempt it. Crazy thoughts like that shouldn’t be entering his head.

“On the contrary. I think you’re brave for staying as long as you did. Most first-time assistants would’ve lasted sixty seconds. You managed a full one hundred and twenty.” A grin tugged at his lips. “But in all seriousness, it is I who should apologize. I should have never asked you to help. Forgive me?”

Her smile warmed, reaching her eyes and turning them bright. She nodded. “How is Mr. Cooper now?”

“Resting comfortably at present. I’ll send him home in half an hour. You’ll be happy to know you’re not the only female who gets queasy. His wife left right after she brought him in, and I haven’t seen her since. Of course, she has the excuse of being in a delicate condition.”

“I’d still like you to show me around, if you want to.” She surveyed the waiting room. “Perhaps after your patient leaves?”

So the sparrow of a woman wasn’t quite as breakable as she first appeared. He had suspected there was more than first met the eye when it came to her. What other layers lay beneath the delicate tissue paper of her exterior? Would he ever know?

“I’d be glad to,” he answered. He needed to look away, avert his gaze from her smile and that distracting curl that brushed her cheek. Gazing at her wasn’t part of their convenient arrangement.

“I’d better go upstairs and make lunch. Will you have time to eat?”

“I’ll be up just as soon as Mr. Cooper leaves.”

She hurried away, and he returned to his patient. Yet, as he pushed open the windows to let in fresh air, a thought sprang to his mind and made him grin.

Audrey wouldn’t have lasted anywhere near a hundred and twenty seconds.