When the Heart Heals Page 6

  “Jacob—”

  He lifted a hand to stop her. “It’s the least I can do for my favorite nurse.”

  In spite of her embarrassment, she chuckled. “How many nurses do you know?”

  “One. But she’s special.”

  Rosemary left the grocery with the image of Jacob’s face before her. The Lord must have guided her feet to the store, knowing how much she needed a kind word. Fortified by the encouragement, she turned west on High Street toward Lindberg’s Mercantile.

  Faith needed to know what happened, but Rosemary quailed at telling her. She’d been so proud of finding a way to support herself and now she was right back where she’d been before. Barely enough money to feed herself, let alone Jolene.

  Clouds blurred the sky, blotting out the feeble rays of the sun. She drew her cloak tighter against the gusting wind. She’d endured storms before—she would do it again.

  She turned onto King’s Highway, passed the newspaper office, and slipped inside the mercantile. Faith glanced up from an open ledger at the sound of the bell over the door. Her eyes widened when she saw Rosemary.

  “This is a lovely surprise.” She closed the book with a snap and darted around the counter for a hug. “Did the doctor send you here for supplies? Paper? Ink?”

  “No.” The enormity of the morning’s happenings engulfed her. Her eyes stung. “I came to say . . .” She cleared her throat. “I told Dr. Stewart I wouldn’t work for him any longer.”

  “What? Come, sit.” Faith took her hand and led her to the chairs near the stove. “Please tell me. Was he unkind to you?”

  Rosemary dropped her grocery-filled carryall next to a chair and sank down. “He said he couldn’t allow me to shelter Jolene. He told me she’d have to go.” Remembering the scene, her anger boiled afresh. “Can you imagine? He said it reflected on him, of all things.”

  Faith leaned back, a bewildered expression on her face. “How absolutely odd. I must say, I’m surprised. He seems such an affable soul. In fact, for a doctor, he’s quite friendly.”

  “Yes.” She remembered the conversations they’d had in his office. He enjoyed learning about the townspeople and often went out of his way to chat with patients. His reaction to Jolene’s presence in her home left her baffled. She rubbed the back of her neck. “I remember him from when I first started at the Barracks. No matter how bad the injury to one of our soldiers, he remained calm.”

  “You didn’t tell us you knew him.” Faith’s voice squeaked with astonishment. “Did he recognize you?”

  “No. I was only there for a month or so before he was sent to a battlefield depot.” She glanced at her sister-in-law, feeling a flush creep up her neck. “I must confess I hoped he’d remember me.”

  “No wonder you wanted to work for him.” Faith sent her a knowing look. “He’s very attractive.”

  “Doesn’t matter now, does it? I’ve got bigger things to worry about.” Rosemary stood. “I need to go home, but I’m afraid if I tell Jolene what happened, she’ll blame herself. The poor girl is frantic with fear already.”

  Mr. Slocum entered the store and meandered over to them. “Miss Rosemary. Thought you was working for the new doc.”

  “Was. Not anymore.”

  “You coming back here again?”

  “I’ll give it some thought.” She leaned over and kissed Faith’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  Drops of rain spat at the boardwalk as she strode home. There had to be a way to explain today’s events to Jolene without upsetting her. Rosemary wished she knew what it was.

  “I’ll leave right now.” Jolene jumped up from the settee.

  Rosemary blocked her path, arms extended. “You’re not leaving. I want you here.”

  “You lost your job because of me.” Tears streaked the girl’s face.

  “No, I lost my temper. I cost myself my employment. I should have tried to explain things to him.” She dropped onto one of the chairs in front of the window and blew out a weary breath. Not having the job was bad enough. Explaining the particulars to everyone was worse.

  Bodie padded over and poked his nose under her arm. She reached down and scratched his silky ears. “Good boy,” she murmured.

  Jolene settled back onto the settee, sniffling. “Say what you want. It’s my fault. If I left, would he hire you back?”

  “I wouldn’t work for him under those circumstances. My life is my concern—not his.”

  “Maybe Miss Lytle would give me piecework again. I’m feeling some better now.” Her large brown eyes reflected a sheen of tears. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “You’re not.” Rosemary crossed to the settee. Bending over, she hugged the girl’s thin shoulders. “I’ve already thought of something we can do together.”

  By the time Curt arrived that afternoon with Jolene’s possessions, Rosemary had changed from the drab clothing she wore in the doctor’s office into her pleated moss green outfit. Her skirt swished over the floorboards as she hurried to answer the door.

  “You’re very prompt. No students kept late today?”

  He blinked. “You didn’t tell me you’d be home. I expected Miss Graves would let me in.”

  “She’s upstairs, in your old room.” She pointed at a battered trunk next to him. “Could you carry this up for us, please?”

  He hefted Jolene’s belongings onto the entry floor, then tucked his thumb under Rosemary’s chin. “I’m always happy to see you, but why are you here? It’s only four o’clock.”

  After already explaining her actions to three people, Rosemary abbreviated her answer to her brother. “Dr. Stewart told me I couldn’t have Jolene here. I disagreed. Faith can give you the details.”

  Curt brought his heels together and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rosemary led the way up the stairs and tapped on Jolene’s door. “My brother brought your trunk,” she called.

  In a moment, the girl stood facing them wrapped in Rosemary’s striped blue dressing gown. Her hair hung down behind her in a long braid. “I must have fallen asleep.” When she noticed Curt standing in the hallway, she ducked to one side, cheeks crimson. “I thank you. Just leave it, please. I’ll unpack directly.” Backing away, she closed the door.

  Pity clutched Rosemary’s heart. From the girl’s swollen eyes, she knew she’d been crying. The sooner she got her busy on a new enterprise, the sooner Jolene would feel useful.

  The following morning, Rosemary woke with a sense of dread nagging at her. She’d promised herself she’d collect her share of the Haggertys’ payment today, but the thought of facing Dr. Stewart was enough to remove all joy from the morning.

  She shoved her feet into wool slippers and threw her wrapper over her shoulders. No sense delaying what had to be done. As soon as she opened the door, Bodie rose from his post, stretching. His body heat seeped from the floorboards to the soles of her feet.

  “You’re supposed to sleep in the kitchen, not outside my room,” she said to him, secretly pleased at the thought of him keeping watch over her.

  Bodie wagged his tail and ran down the stairs toward the back door.

  She stepped onto the porch after him, shivering in the early morning chill. He circled the yard with his nose to the ground. After a minute, he disappeared inside the greenhouse.

  Half-awake, it took Rosemary a moment to realize the door stood open. Her senses jangled. Although it was late March, the previous night had been chilly. Her tender plants might not survive the cold. She sped down the steps and along the path to the small outbuilding.

  Stepping through the entrance, she scrutinized the tidy tables. The mint plant appeared unaffected by the drop in temperature. Rosemary inspected each of the pots containing infant sprouts while Bodie nosed about the corners of the window-lined enclosure. On some of the stems, new leaves curled downward in the chill air. She shook her head. Nothing to do now but wait to see if they recovered.

  She took a final look around, trying to remember when she
’d last watered. Surely the door had been latched upon returning to the house. But perhaps the distraction of Jolene’s arrival had made her careless.

  “Rosemary?” The girl’s high-pitched voice warbled from the porch steps. “Where are you?”

  Bodie’s ears perked up when he heard Jolene. He bounded across the yard and stopped at her feet, wagging his tail.

  Rosemary ducked through the opening and fastened the door behind her. “I found the greenhouse open and went to check.” She rubbed her forehead as she crossed the yard. “I don’t understand how I could have been so forgetful.”

  “Maybe the door blew open. The wind howled last night.” She shuddered. “I don’t like that noise. Sounds like ghosts.”

  Rosemary slipped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. Besides, this house is stout. We won’t blow away.”

  She locked the back door, grateful for the heat radiating from the cookstove.

  “I got the fire going,” Jolene said. “The kettle’s on for tea. I think after a cup and a bite of toast I’ll be able to help you.” Her pale skin belied her brave words.

  Rosemary glanced at the corner of the worktable where she’d left a block of lard and a can of lye. “We’ll start this afternoon. Drink your tea and rest for a bit.” She blew out a long breath. “First, I’m going to see Dr. Stewart.”

  Dr. Stewart met Rosemary when she entered the waiting area. “Good. You changed your mind. I hoped you would.” He strode toward her, a broad smile on his face. “I’m willing to give you a little time to find a home for Miss Graves. Perhaps a week?”

  She wondered why he hadn’t noticed she was wearing her gray silk dress and spoon bonnet rather than her normal work attire of plain calico. “Miss Graves’s situation need not concern you further. I came to collect my share of the payment from Mr. Haggerty.”

  His eyebrows shot upward. “You’re not coming back?”

  “No.” She kept her voice steady, but her throat tightened. Spending the days with him had been educational as well as pleasurable. If Jacob were correct, she’d gained the respect of some of the townspeople in the process. She prayed their favorable regard wouldn’t disappear along with her employment.

  “Miss Saxon . . .” He held out a hand toward her, then dropped it. “How about two weeks?”

  The pleading in his deep brown eyes unnerved her. He looked like a boy—quite a tall, burly boy, but a boy nonetheless. She straightened her shoulders, determined not to weaken. “Miss Graves will remain with me as long as necessary. Now, I’d appreciate my wages, if you please.”

  “Of course.” He strode to his office and took a small envelope from his desktop. “Here’s your share from Mr. Haggerty. I set it aside last evening.” He placed the sum in her hand, but held on to an edge of the envelope. “You’re sure?”

  “I am.” She kept her tone brisk and dropped the money in her handbag, hoping her uncertainty didn’t show on her face. The next stop would be the mercantile for a talk with Faith. She’d find another way to remain independent. She had to.

  9

  Rosemary stood on her back porch, wearing an apron and wrapped in a shawl. She held a wooden spoon over a large glass bowl half-filled with water. “Be careful. Pour slowly,” she said to Jolene.

  “I know. I did this for my ma all the time. Just never had store-boughten lye—we always made soap from stove ash.” Holding the container close to the surface of the water, she poured the concentrated lye while Rosemary stirred.

  As the mixture dissolved, the sides of the bowl warmed. Rosemary wrinkled her nose as she set the water aside to cool. “Let’s go in. The lard should be melted by now.”

  Once in the kitchen, she removed the pot from the stove and carried it outside, placing it on a bench next to the glass bowl. When the liquefied fat cooled, they’d be ready to combine ingredients for her special shaving soap.

  Jolene sank into a chair and sniffled. “I miss my ma. Wish I’d never left home.”

  Understanding pierced Rosemary’s heart. “It’s the little memories that pain us the most, isn’t it? I remember my mother teaching me about herbs and plants. She loved growing things.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Jolene’s eyes filled with compassion. “I didn’t know your ma had passed.”

  “She hasn’t.” At least, not that she knew.

  “But you said—”

  Rosemary replaced her shawl over her shoulders. “I need to check the lard. We can’t let it get cold.” She escaped out the door, berating herself for letting memories run away with her. Her own mother might be unreachable, but surely Jolene’s would welcome her daughter back. The next time she saw Curt she’d ask to borrow his buggy.

  Jolene trailed her onto the porch, carrying a second glass container. She cast a curious glance at her before raising the pot and pouring the cooled lard into the empty bowl.

  Grateful for her help, and her silence, Rosemary lifted the lye mixture. “Ready?” This time she poured while Jolene stirred. When the spoon left traces in the white compound, she uncorked a vial of sassafras oil and tipped in two teaspoonfuls, then placed a square wooden box on the bench. A sweet licorice aroma rose when Jolene poured the soap into the mold.

  “Now what?” she asked. “Ma always made soft soap, nothing fancy like this.”

  “We’ll let this cure for a few days, then cut it into circles to fit shaving mugs.”

  Rosemary lifted the box and carried it indoors, remembering with a pang the elegant scented soaps her mother made as gifts. She wondered whether she’d approve of Rosemary’s intention to sell one of her recipes as a shaving compound.

  She pictured a shelf in the mercantile filled with soaps, herbal teas, and tinctures. In no time, she’d compensate for the loss of income from Dr. Stewart.

  On Sunday, Rosemary tucked her arm under Jolene’s as they walked to the end of the block and crossed the street to the church. Reverend French stood at the top of the stone steps greeting his flock while the bell pealed from the steeple atop the square brick building. When they approached, he descended to the lawn and bowed in their direction.

  “Miss Rosemary. Always a pleasure.” His thick eyebrows raised in inquiry. “Who is your guest today?”

  She introduced Jolene and smiled through the reverend’s welcoming words. She’d never known anyone with such an ability to put people at ease. She sensed the tension leaving Jolene’s body.

  A younger man, his face a duplicate of Reverend French’s, stepped next to them. His empty left sleeve was pinned up at the elbow. The reverend took his good arm. “Miss Graves, this is my son Galen. He teaches at the academy with Miss Rosemary’s brother.”

  Galen’s eyes brightened. “Happy to know you, Miss Graves. Will you be visiting our area for very long?”

  Jolene’s face flamed. “I . . . I’m not sure.” She turned a frantic gaze on Rosemary. “Shouldn’t we go in?”

  Rosemary squeezed her arm. “Certainly.”

  Once inside, she scanned the pews. “There they are.” She nodded her head in the direction of her brother and Faith, sitting next to Judge Lindberg.

  When Faith noticed them, she patted an empty space on the seat beside her. After a whispered introduction between the judge and Jolene, Rosemary settled next to her sister-in-law.

  At the front of the sanctuary, Clarissa French, the reverend’s wife, stroked the keys of a piano. The hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy” rose over the sound of worshipers’ footsteps entering the building.

  Faith poked Rosemary in the side. “Look,” she whispered, pointing discreetly at a pew in front of them where Sheriff Cooper sat with Amy Dunsmuir. Although she couldn’t see the child over the couple’s shoulders, Rosemary knew Amy held her young daughter on her lap. Faith leaned close to Rosemary’s ear. “He’s at the house nearly every night. Amy seems happy with him, but needless to say, Curt’s not thrilled.”

  “As long as the sheriff has stopped trying to arrest him, he can relax.” They smiled at ea
ch other, remembering their campaign to clear Curt’s name after a robbery at the mercantile.

  A husky man with curly hair walked past, apparently seeking an empty seat. Rosemary sucked in a breath. “Do you know who that is?”

  Faith nodded. “The doctor. I’ve never seen him here before.”

  They watched while he entered a pew close to the front. “Wonders will never cease,” Rosemary said. “Maybe he’ll—”

  Reverend French faced the congregation and motioned for everyone to stand while his wife played the introduction to “My Faith Looks Up to Thee.” Out of the corner of her eye, Rosemary watched Dr. Stewart fumble through a hymnbook seeking the song. Her heart gave an unexpected twist. If she were standing beside him, she’d show him the place. She blinked, surprised at the direction her thoughts had taken.

  Jolene’s hand on her arm broke her reverie. “Sometimes Ma and Pa took us to church in Hartfield. I’m glad you brought me here today,” she said in a soft voice.

  “So am I.” She’d done the right thing in God’s eyes. That’s all that mattered.

  When Clarissa left the piano, Reverend French stepped to the pulpit and opened his Bible. “Our text today is from the Epistle of James, second chapter, sixteenth verse. Here James is speaking of caring for the needs of others. ‘And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit?’”

  Rosemary nodded as he read the verse. The subject matter had to be more than a coincidence. She hoped Dr. Stewart was listening.

  Elijah hunched over what had been Miss Saxon’s desk, grumbling to himself as he made entries in the ledger. Her pages contained tidy figures and dates, with patients’ names included. Each sheet was totaled at the bottom. He raked his fingers through his hair. If there was anything more tedious than record keeping, he didn’t know what it could be. Two weeks without her help, and already he’d fallen behind.