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February 1892
Dear Mabel,
We have been married for almost two weeks and I still haven’t gotten up the courage to give these letters to you. I’m not sure I ever will. I know this may seem odd since we are married, but I think I’m falling in love with you. I just don’t know how to say it or if I even should.
Otis
***
Mary and Carter came to stay with Otis and Mabel until the Brookings family left two days after the wedding. Otis was quite certain that Mabel enjoyed having them around. He was grateful, too, since he was busy trying to figure out what to do about replacing Sarah.
After Mary and Carter left, Otis sat down with Mabel to have a chat with her.
“Do you have any plans on what to do now that you are married?”
“Cook and clean, I suppose.”
“But that won’t take you all day, will it?”
“No. Especially since you are so organized. The total opposite of me and Tyrel.”
He chuckled. “I never noticed Tyrel’s house being cluttered except the first time I saw it after you arrived.”
Mabel ducked her head. “That’s because I saw your office and house the next day and wanted to try better for myself.”
“Ah. I see. Do you want something else to do?”
“Stop beating around the bush and ask me straight out.”
He nodded. “Would you be willing to assist me when needed and be my receptionist if I’m not here?”
Her hand fluttered around in her lap. “I have no training.”
“You don’t need any. I can show you a few basic things, but mostly I’ll need you to hand me things and tell people where I am if they have an emergency.”
She picked at her skirt. “I can try.”
Otis smiled. “Thank you.”
For two weeks, she helped him. It didn’t take long for him to realize she didn’t even have the minutest skill for the job. When one of his patients told him about a quilting circle that met twice a week, he knew he had to suggest it. Of course, there was the possibility she hated sewing, but at least it would be something to do.
***
“Are you sure?” Mabel asked. Why would he say something like this? Did he think her incompetent?
“Yes,” Otis replied. “I can tell you don’t like helping, and it’s fine. I should be able to do everything by myself.”
“Thank you. Do you know when and where the quilting circle is?”
Otis shook his head. “I didn’t think to ask.”
She sighed. “I’ll ask around.”
He nodded and left.
As soon as his footsteps faded and then stopped, she slumped her shoulders. She was a failure. A doctor’s wife should be able to help her husband, but she couldn’t. She didn’t like sewing either, but how could she disappoint him again when he went to the trouble of telling her about the quilting circle?
“I can do anything for a couple of weeks,” she whispered. “And I need to learn anyway. I shouldn’t rely on hiring people to sew for me anymore.”
Mabel wandered through the house but couldn’t find anything to take care of. She needed to visit someone.
She hurried into Otis’s office. “I’m going to Olive’s and will be back later.”
Otis grunted in reply, and she rushed out the door.
***
A few hours later, Mabel returned to an empty house. She made a quick supper, humming while she worked. Olive was always so friendly and positive. She offered to teach her how to sew, knit, and crochet—all things Mabel had never had the patience to do before. Now she hoped she could master it after having learned some patience.
The minutes ticked by slowly. The sun set, stars came out, and still Otis didn’t come back. Panic rose up as she went through all the worst possible things that could have happened. She buried her head in her hands.
“Stop it! He’s probably with a sick person. Like always. No need to fret.”
She got ready for bed and, with a heavy heart, put the plate of food on the back of the stove before taking one last look out the front window. Still no one there.
With a sigh, she made her way upstairs and climbed under the chilly blankets. “God, I don’t know what to do. I want to know him better, but he seems to take little interest in me. I know he liked having me help him, but I can’t do that. I have no idea where I fit in around here. There are no parties, balls, dances, or anything like what I am used to. No one really goes visiting unless it’s for a quilting circle or some such thing.” She stopped as a thought came.
“That could work,” she whispered. A smile grew on her face. “That could work! Thank You, God!”
She lay back against the pillow and fell asleep with plans and ideas running through her head. All she had to do was present it to Otis and then Tyrel and Olive for approval.
***
Otis spent the night at the bedside of a dying woman. She had no family, so he had told her he would stay with her. He sat there and prayed or read the Bible to her. She died right after dawn. Otis left her covered in the house until they could make arrangements.
He stumbled home, half-asleep, and found Mabel already up and with a stove full of food. His stomach growled.
“Mornin’.”
“Long night?”
Otis nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Mrs. Carlyle died.”
Mabel gasped. “I’m sorry. And you stayed with her all night?”
Otis nodded again.
She placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and biscuits in front of him and sat down. “When you’re feeling up to it, I had an idea I’d like to ask you about.”
Otis stabbed some food, put it in his mouth, and chewed. All done without thinking. Was Mabel still talking to him? Why couldn’t he hear her? He blinked slowly. Her mouth moved and her face looked lovely with that big smile.
The plate slid away from him. Mabel said something, but Otis still couldn’t hear her, then he felt himself walking. When had he stood up? Someone held his arm as they went toward his bedroom. The bed came up to meet him, and he vaguely heard his boots fall to the floor as he fell fast asleep.
The sun shone into his window when he finally woke up. He got up, changed, and went downstairs.
Mabel stood at the stove again.
“Hi.”
“You’re finally up?” she asked. “You’ve been out for over six hours. No one came in while you slept, though.”
Otis nodded. “Thank you.”
She sat at the table with him. “Are you awake enough to hear my idea?”
“Sure.”
“We need money for a church building, right?”
“Mmhm.”
She smiled. “Good. I’d like to organize a lunchbox social and dance. The ladies can all make a lunch, and their man can bid on it, with all the money going toward the church building. Afterwards, we can have a dance with a small entrance fee.”
Otis stared at her. “Where did you come up with that idea?”
She bit her lip. “Um, while complaining to God.”
Otis tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. At least she joined him. “I see. I like the idea as long as I don’t have to help with any of the details.”
“You won’t. I’m hoping to get a few other ladies to help.”
Otis nodded. “I need to go see Tyrel about Mrs. Carlyle’s burial.”
“I’ll have supper on when you get back.”
“Thanks.”
Otis made a quick stop into his office before he left, a bounce in his step. That had been one of the first truly amicable conversations they had had since their marriage. Otis knew they had gotten married under difficult circumstances, but he’d also thought Mabel was a reasonable woman and one who would be able to do at least the easiest of doctoring things such as bandaging a wound. Nope. She was none of that besides being mostly reasonable.
Combine that with him being gone a lot and they had a recipe for disaster. So what had changed today? Had she really missed the social activities back home so much that the thought of organizing one herself would change her so much?
He arrived at the mine before he could figure anything out.
“Tyrel’s in the mine,” someone said.
“Thank you.” Otis headed inside and found Tyrel checking the placement of some dynamite. He waited until his foreman had finished.
“Otis! What’re you doing here?”
“I need to talk to Pastor Colton.”
He chuckled and shouted. “Robert, get everyone out and then light the charge. I’ll be a few minutes.”
They left the mine and went to a small office.
“What do you need?”
“Mrs. Carlyle died this morning. We need to bury her.”
Tyrel sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’ll go take care of that right away. Is she at her home?”
He nodded.
A muffled boom sounded, and Otis looked out the window in time to see a billow of dust come out of the mine.
“Thank you,” Otis said. “Oh, Mabel will probably be talking to you about an idea she had to raise money for the church.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Any clues?”
Otis winked. “Nope. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Robert burst into the office. “Good, you’re still here, doc. Some stupid miner stayed too close to the mine and got hit bad with a rock.”
Otis sighed. Bringing the letters to Olive would have to wait. “Coming.”
***
After treating the injured man, Otis hurried to Olive and Tyrel’s house, hoping Olive would be there alone. He breathed in relief when she was.
“Otis! What a pleasant surprise.”
Otis smiled. “I have a favor I need to ask you.”
Olive raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Otis pulled a stack of letters out of his doctor’s bag. “I need you to hang on to these for me. They’re letters I wrote to my future wife and now I’m afraid to give them to Mabel.”
Olive took a step back. “You need to give those to Mabel, not me.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. You know how guarded I am even with you. These letters tell some of my most inner thoughts. I can’t just readily give them up. Can you please do this one thing for me? Hold on to them either until I ask for them back or until you think she really needs to read them.”
Olive stared into his eyes for what felt like forever before nodding. “But I don’t agree with it.”
“Noted. Thanks, Olive. You’re the best sister a man could have.”
Olive forced a laugh. “I somehow doubt that.”
***
Another month passed. The lunchbox social was scheduled for two weeks away and Otis was busier than ever. He spent little time at home or with Mabel and missed being around her. When he had started, he’d had no idea he would be this busy. He also knew something had to change. He kept getting more and more tired and quickly came to realize he actually wanted to spend more time with Mabel.
Otis sat down with a pencil and paper and started writing out a few ideas. There were certain illnesses and symptoms he was not needed for. If he made that clear, it would eliminate quite a few of his most pesky patients.
It took him an hour, but he figured a few things out. All he had to do now was implement it. He brought the paper to Mabel, only he couldn’t find her in the kitchen or anywhere else in the house. A patient came in, so he left the paper with a note on the table and left.
***
Another note with a request. She almost didn’t pick it up, but curiosity got the better of her.
I’d like to spend more time with you. Do you think implementing these things will help? Otis
Mabel sighed heavily and picked up the other piece of paper. It was a long list with many terms she couldn’t understand. After reading through it, she set it down haphazardly. Too little, too late.
With a huff, she prepared a meal for two, ate hers, and left one on the back of the stove for Otis. She knew she shouldn’t be so upset, but she couldn’t help it. It had been weeks since her idea and the details she had to work on were more than she’d expected. Add to that the every evening absences of her husband, the unwillingness of him to talk, and all the thankless work she did for him...
Mabel closed her eyes and dug her fingers into her temples. After a minute, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and attacked the dishes with reckless abandon. She waited half an hour for her husband to come home. When he didn’t, she went to bed and cried herself to sleep.
***
Otis crept into the house, late. As he passed Mabel’s door, he thought he heard muffled sniffling, but knew he didn’t dare go in and ask. Maybe in the morning.
But the next morning, he woke up late and Mabel was already gone. She hadn’t written anything on his idea sheet, either. He knew she had read it because the note was gone. What did it mean? Did she not want to know him better? Was his attraction to her one-sided?
Otis’s chest clenched at the thought of her wanting out of the marriage. But if she didn’t want him, was it really worth trying to fight for her? He sighed and threw himself into his work.
For another week or more—he lost track—they lived on different schedules almost every day. She would get up early, make breakfast and put his on the back of the stove, then leave to do whatever she did. He would usually get up an hour or two later, eat his lukewarm or cold breakfast, and work until late at night, sometimes overnight.
As the days went by, Otis grew more and more frustrated. He hated being away so much, especially when it was for petty reasons. He tried hard to tell people what they could do on their own without his help, but they refused to learn or do what he told them. How was he supposed to heal people who didn’t listen to him?