The last time someone had looked at Grace with that grim set to his lips and announced he had something to tell her, it was bad news. Pa had told her Ma wouldn’t live out the week. Grace clutched her arms to her chest. “What is it? Your mother’s worse?”
“I don’t mean to scare you. No one is ill. I—I have to leave town.”
She expelled a shaky breath. “On a trip?”
“I mean, I need to find a new job.”
Her stomach clenched tight. “Why?”
But she knew already. Pa.
She sank to the bentwood chair in the corner, wrapping her arms around her torso.
“Your father is a skilled doctor, Grace. Learned, good with patients, my mentor and friend. But he wants God kept out of the clinic, and I won’t stop praying for our patients. Can’t stop. It’s who I am. God’s the Master Healer; I can’t be a physician without His help.”
“Pa’s a doctor, he knows people get sick and d–die.” Grace fought the panic rising in her throat. “He just couldn’t accept it in his own family. Give him time.”
Mitch sat on the floor at her feet. “For a while, I’ve felt God calling me to head my own clinic. I’ve prayed for discernment, but the instruction hasn’t changed.”
She couldn’t argue against God’s call on Mitch’s life, but she didn’t like it a lick. Working alongside the two men she admired most was what made her happy. Losing that would be harder than anything since losing Ma. Even now her insides trembled, her mouth dried, her fingers shook.
Maybe—maybe she couldn’t argue against Mitch opening his own clinic. But she could still keep him close.
“Is there more to it? You want to leave Emerald to find a s–spouse, like Bess?” The words blurted out before she could stop them, and they tasted bitter on her tongue. “I could play matchmaker for you, just like I am for Myra and Nell and Flossie—”
“My parents’ marriage was terrible, you know that.” His words were as gentle as his touch on her arm. “The fighting over my father working late at the law firm, my mother’s resentment at his choosing his clients and partners over her. I don’t want a marriage like that, Grace. And I would. I keep odd hours. My wife would come to resent me, too.”
She nodded. The information wasn’t new, but it still hurt that Mitch was wounded this way. She’d tried arguing that her mother never minded Pa attending births or deaths, no more than the pastor’s wife objected to her husband’s odd-hour calls. But Mitch was resolute, and it saddened her that he’d closed himself off to love.
To her shame, however, relief spiraled through her body like warm, soothing steam. The idea of him wedding some faceless woman didn’t sit well on her stomach.
Mitch rose from the floor, extending his hand to her. “Besides, I can’t stay in town to rival your father, Grace. I respect and care for him too much. That means I have to leave Emerald.”
She took his fingers in hers. “Emerald needs you.” I need you.
“Change is hard, Grace, but you fight it like no one I’ve ever seen. Look what you’ve done to keep Bess in town. Things are still going to change, though. Once she marries Elmer, she won’t be in our Saturday group anymore. She’ll live on the farm, and you won’t see her as much, especially since her superintendent will make her stop teaching once she gets in the family way. She’ll still love you, but it won’t be the same.”
The truth of his words sunk into her bones. She’d known it, but everything was so good right now. Couldn’t it stay like this forever? Or at least a little while longer?
She stood, facing him, but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “You and Bess are my best friends, Mitch. I can’t say good-bye to either of you.”
“I’d never say good-bye to you, Grace.” He pulled her arm so her hand rested on his shoulder, and then he wrapped her in a gentle hug. “You’re my best friend, too.”
Then why are you doing this to me?
“I’d like to be the one to tell your father, when the time is right.”
She nodded into his chest. The hard bone of his jaw rested atop her head. It was easy to enjoy this, his bay smell and closeness, so comforting and at the same time, singularly unsettling in the unfamiliarity of it. She’d wanted things to stay the same. But there was nothing the same about this hug of his, so unlike his other quick squeezes. This made her stomach flip. No, her nerves caused that sensation because she was sad.
“I won’t fight you, Mitch. I understand. Forgive me for pressing.”
“I’m glad to know you’ll miss me.” He released her but stood there, as if waiting for something, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. Then he sighed. “I’ll close up. See you at church tomorrow?”
She nodded, turned on her heel, and hurried out the back door. She’d missed people before. Grieved. This didn’t feel like those had at all. This was panic twisted with something she couldn’t name.
If only there was a scientific explanation for how she felt, she could treat it. Until then, all she could do was pray for peace.
Peace settled over Mitch’s shoulders Sunday morning as the final chords of the hymn trilled from the organ. Another worship service concluded. How many more would there be for him, here in Emerald? A sad thought, but God had the situation in hand.
Before Mitch could slip the hymnal back into its pocket in the pew, a figure appeared at his elbow. Grace in her spring-green Sunday dress, which was prettier than a May day with her reddish hair and freckled complexion. “Morning.”
“Good morning.” Her mouth was set in a grim line.
He stifled a laugh. He should’ve guessed she’d continue last night’s argument. She was predictable, his sweet Grace. And stubborn as the proverbial mule about change. He escorted her to greet the pastor on the way out.
“I have a basket lunch waiting at the house for you and your mother.”
So that was her plan, to get his mother on her side. Well, it was time he told Ma his plans, anyway. “She’ll be glad to see you. Will your father join us?”
Her head shook. “He’s researching possible diagnoses for Mrs. Dooley, but he sends his regards. Which reminds me, I stopped by Mrs. Dooley’s house before church. I know why she won’t stay overnight at the clinic. Bertie.”
Bertie? But Mrs. Dooley had no family. No husband. Unless—
Grace brushed something off her sleeve that looked suspiciously like cat hair.
Mitch laughed. “Bertie is a feline companion?”
“Orange as a pumpkin and almost as round.” Her hands spread as if she described a Thanksgiving turkey. “I told her Bertie could stay at the clinic with her, and she agreed to come next time the pains overtake her.”
Surely the cat couldn’t be that big. “If it brings her comfort, it’s a wonderful idea.”
They passed Lou, Silas, Irvin, Flossie, and Myra, clustered around Nell. It was good to see how they cared for their friend. Hopefully Nell and her mother found something to eat today. Then the ladies looked up and waved at Grace, giggling. Myra batted her eyes at one of the fellows. No doubt Grace took mental notes as data for her matchmaking hypothesis.
After thanking the pastor for his message—and accepting the pastor’s request to call on Ma, who’d been unable to make it to church today—Mitch and Grace retraced the steps they’d taken after the party for Elmer and Bess. It was hard not to think of Grace’s distasteful offer to make him a match. If she only knew how he’d struggled with his determination not to get married since falling in love with her. One look at her freckled cheeks and sparkling eyes, and he’d been a goner.
When they reached her house, he realized neither had spoken a word. “You’re still mad at me.”
“I’m not mad. Just a minute.” Grace left him on the street to stomp around the house to the kitchen door. Within seconds she returned with a basket.
He took it in one arm and offered her the other. “If you say so.”
She rolled her eyes, but at least she took his arm as they strolled the two short blocks to his whitewashed house. “I’m not angry. I’m upset. I think it’s a fair response.”
“So you’re enlisting Ma’s help in your cause?”
She craned her neck to look up at him. “Is that what you—I figured you hadn’t told her yet. I just thought I’d like to spend time with both of you if you’re leaving Emerald soon.”
If his heart could grow from love for her, then it swelled against the confines of his rib cage. “I’m glad. But you’re right, I haven’t told her yet. Maybe today.”
Ma was propped on the horsehair sofa in the gold-papered parlor, a quilt in hues of green over her lap. She’d dressed and combed her fading blond hair into a neat bun at her nape. Setting aside her Bible, she grinned at them. “Grace, land sakes, you look pretty today. Doesn’t she, son?”
Clearly, Ma felt well enough to jab at him. He smiled, but glared at Ma. “She does.”
Grace bent to kiss Ma’s cheek. “It’s good to see you smile. Sorry you weren’t up to church today.”
“I’m better now. The salve helps my joints. Not so bad, having a doctor for a son, eh?”
Ma’s extreme swelling and joint pain concerned Mitch, especially considering Ma wasn’t much over fifty, but he’d seen young suffer from rheumatoid arthritis as well as old. “Grace brought lunch.”
“Pa sends his regards.” Making herself at home, as she always did here, Grace ambled to the kitchen. Mitch followed her, pulling plates from the cupboard while Grace emptied her basket onto the table.
The savory smells of ham and dill wafted through the air. Mitch’s stomach rumbled. “Mustard-dilled green beans?”
“Of course.” She grinned, as if she’d made them just for him. Then she sauntered out to poke her head into the parlor. “Would you like to sit at the table, ma’am, or may I bring you a plate?”
“Let’s picnic in the parlor.” Ma’s voice was stronger than it had been in a week.
Within minutes, he and Grace found spots on the matching green velvet embroidered parlor chairs near Ma. They gave thanks, set their plates on their knees, and tucked into the cold food, telling Ma about the sermon and Nell’s attendance.
“After last night’s fainting spell, I wasn’t sure she’d be there,” Grace said.
“Have you picked a match for her yet?” Ma’s eyes twinkled. “Mitchell told me about your hypothesis.”
Grace patted her lips with her napkin. “I think I have.”
“Already?” Mitch’s question was for Grace, but his gaze fixed on Ma’s plate. She’d barely touched her ham. Was she too sore, or too excited? Either way, her eyes shone bright, and Mitch couldn’t help but give thanks she was happy.
Ma leaned forward. “Who’s the unsuspecting fellow?”
Mitch finished his beans. What was with women and matchmaking?
“Not a one is unsuspecting. I spoke to them this past week.” Grace smiled. “I believe they thought it a lark, but they are all interested in marriage, so they agreed.”
Mitch stretched his legs. “So, Irvin Brown, Silas Lee, and Lou Kohl are the gents, and Flossie Hawkins, Myra Olson, and Nell Vaughn are the gals.”
Ma rubbed her hands together. “Who with whom? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“After watching them interact this past week, as well as drawing upon my experiences during our years-long acquaintanceships, I don’t think I require more research. I’ve matched Nell with Lou Kohl.”
“Lou?” Ma clapped.
“He was the first to see Nell faint. He carried her to the clinic. I believe that means he is attuned to her, which is one of the criteria I use to make matches.”
“He’s sweet on her, then?” Ma grinned.
“I couldn’t tell for sure. I wasn’t able to feel his pulse,” Grace said with all seriousness.
Mitch swallowed. “Pulses don’t tell you everything.” For instance, his was steady right now, despite wanting to kiss Grace on her freckled nose.
“Well, Nell blushed when Lou spoke to her after church today. That counts as a measurable sign of attraction.” Grace shrugged.
“I always thought Irvin might be sweet on Nell.” Mitch set down his fork.
“Why?”
Something seemed to change in the air when he was in their midst. “Intuition, I suppose.”
Grace shook her head. “I don’t know Irvin well, true, in part because his hard work at the flour mill has prevented him from socializing much. In part because he’s the shyest fellow in the bunch. I think Myra Olson’s exuberance is a good foil to Irvin’s bashfulness. That’s another of my principles, complementary traits.”
“So Irvin and Myra. Nell and Lou.” Ma’s face hadn’t shown this much color in a week.
“Have a bite, Ma. You love Grace’s green beans.” Mitch pointed with his fork.
“You love them.” Ma speared a cube of ham. “Did you pair Flossie and Silas because they’re the only two left?”
“Not at all. Again, it was the principle of complementary traits. Flossie is chronically tardy. Silas is punctual, maybe because he runs his own business as the barber. And she batted her lashes at him. That settled it. I’ll tell them all of my findings, and then it’s up to them. Just as it was with Bess and Elmer. I imagine our Saturday night group will provide opportunity for each to pair up and talk.”
“How romantic.” Ma sighed.
Mitch snorted. “It’s not romantic at all.”
“It’s science.” Grace nodded. “Courting and weddings are romantic. But marriage is hard work, faith, and sacrifice.”
“That we can agree on.” Mitch gathered their plates. At least Ma had eaten part of her lunch.
“This town is romantic.” Ma pulled the quilt to her lap. “Folks think it was named because a miner found an emerald here during the gold rush, but in truth, one of the first settlers named it for his wife. Now that’s sweet.”
“Sweet as Grace’s blueberry pie.” Mitch grinned.
“Grace?” The way Ma said it took three syllables, and her eyes held a wicked, gleeful glint. “Why don’t you find Mitchell a match?”
Grace stood. “He’s not, that is—I should go. Keep the leftovers. You can bring the tins with you to the clinic tomorrow, Mitch.”
The sofa groaned as Ma pushed up to stand. “Why won’t you match Mitchell? Is it because someone has already caught his eye?”
He almost told his mother not to be ridiculous, but that would be lying. Grace spun to face him in a swirl of green fabric, her eyes wide. Not with curiosity. More like a deer caught munching lettuce in the garden.
He didn’t know why she’d look panicked, but he understood his alarm well enough. He’d hid his feelings for Grace for so long, he couldn’t reveal them now. He took a deep breath.
“Because I feel called to open my own clinic, Ma. And since I don’t intend to compete with Sidney, I need to leave Emerald. We need to leave.”
Ma unbent to her full height, the top of her head at Mitch’s chin. She tossed the quilt to the sofa with a thump.
“Over my dead body, Mitchell Aloysius Shaw. Unless that’s your plan, to kill me with this news. First, do no harm, Mitchell. Remember your physician’s oath?”
That was the tone he remembered from his youth. This was why he could never marry. Never.