Love takes wing (Love Comes Softly #7) (16 page)

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"Yes, but . . . but Luke hasn't even started trainin' the second girl yet, an' . . . an' Flo . . . well, she's not ready yet to take over--"

"It wouldn't be for a week or so yet--and besides, there are two doctahs now. They can relieve each other."

That was true.

"Maybe they could. . . could manage for a short time," began Belinda. "How many days would the trip take?"

Mrs. Stafford-Smyth did not answer at once. She hesitated, looking steadily into Belinda's face. Then she spoke slowly. "That's the complication. I had wanted you to stay on with me in Boston . .. indefinitely . . . as my private nurse . . . and now . .. now this young, good-looking doctah appeahs . . . and it is very plain to me that. . . that he has othah plans for you."

Belinda began to flush deeply. "Oh . . . I . . . I believe you are . . . are mistakin' friendship fer . . . fer something more," she argued. "Jackson--Dr. Brown and I were classmates, not . . . not . . ." She faltered to a stop, feeling she had already said too much.

Mrs. Stafford-Smyth did not appear to be convinced. "Did you write?" she quizzed.

"Fer. . . . fer a short while," answered Belinda honestly. "Did he return a married man?"

"No-o-o."

"Has he ever spoken of anothah young woman?"

"No," Belinda quickly explained, "but we have not been writing lately. There might very well be a young woman. . ."

But Mrs. Stafford-Smyth just smiled a knowing smile. "I rest my case," she said.

Belinda's head began to whirl. What was Mrs. Stafford-Smyth telling her? Surely, after all these years Jackson could not still think . . . ? Why had he invited her to dinner to discuss a case that could have been taken care of at the office or here in the

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sickroom?
What is going on? Oh my!
she thought.
Oh my!
But Mrs. Stafford-Smyth was speaking again.

"If I should be wrong--or if you should be interested," she began, "my offah stands. I would welcome you as my traveling companion and as my nurse in my home in Boston for as long as it would convenience both of us. The salary will be negotiated at such time as you decide. I will not pressure--but it would please me very much if you should decide to accept my proposal."

Belinda could only shake her head. It all seemed like a dream.

"Oh my" she said hesitantly. "I. . . I think I would enjoy the trip . . . but to stay on . . . well . . . thet's quite different. I've never been away from my family . . . and . . . well, I guess I sorta feel I'm needed here. Luke needs me an' . . . an' Mama needs me. Now that things are . . . are .. . now that Dr. Brown is here an' you are feelin' much better . .. I . .. I plan to go home more. I . . . I jest don't know. . ." Her voice trailed off.

"We'll let it rest . . . for now," said Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. Belinda was glad to dismiss the amazing idea from her mind and turn to other things.

At four o'clock sharp there was a rap on the door and a young girl from the hotel kitchen staff stepped aside when Belinda opened it.

"I was ta bring this to yer room at four," she offered.

"Oh my. Oh, oh yes," responded Belinda. She had quite forgotten Jackson's suggestion. She took the tray from the girl, thanked her sincerely, and turned back to the room.

Mrs. Stafford-Smyth, who was tucked back in her bed propped up with pillows, looked quizzically at her.

"Dr. . . . Dr. Brown ordered it," explained Belinda. "He thought thet a bit of refreshment might be . . . might be a good idea."

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"What a thoughtful young man," commented the elderly lady. She eyed the tray filled with hot tea, pastries, and fresh fruit. "It does look good, doesn't it? Could you help me sit up just a bit more?"

Belinda looked in surprise at her patient. Mrs. StaffordSmyth, who had needed to be coaxed and cajoled into eating even a small portion of her meals, was prepared to attack with enthusiasm the tray of afternoon tea things.

Perhaps we should have thought to try this long ago,
Belinda told herself
She might have taken to "tea" more quickly than to "dinner"

Belinda poured two cups of the steaming tea, added sugar and cream to Mrs. Stafford-Smyth's at her bidding, and then the two ladies settled down to enjoy the dainties from the tea tray. It was almost like having a party, and Belinda enjoyed the bright chatter of Mrs. Stafford-Smyth as she recalled some of the teatimes she had shared with others in her home in Boston.

I
must remember to tell
Jackson--Dr. Brown--over supper--dinner--how good this has been for Mrs. Stafford-Smyth, Belinda told herself

Perhaps it would not be long, after all, until the elderly lady would be able to return to her dearly loved Boston.

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SIXTEEN

Dinner

Belinda had ample time to bathe, do her hair, and dress carefully. She had gotten quite a few questions from her two small nephews and a few good-natured remarks from her brother Luke when her plans for the evening were known. She tried to brush it all aside and convince them that this was nothing more than a doctor-nurse consultation in regard to a patient. But by now she had difficulty convincing even herself of that.

She told herself that she would not dress "special," but even as she made the determination she found herself lifting a soft, full- skirted pink taffeta from her closet. She knew it was by far the most becoming dress she owned. She slipped it over her head and studied herself in the mirror, deciding just how she should style her hair to go with the gown.

She had just finished adding a touch of scent to her wrists and temples when she heard the knock at the front door and Luke admitted Jackson to the family parlor. Belinda felt her pulse quicken--merely because this would be a special evening out, she said to herself, and for Belinda those were few indeed. With heart pounding and cheeks warm, she waited for Luke's summons before leaving her room to meet her caller.

Jackson did not compliment her with words, but his eyes shone with appreciation as he looked at Belinda. She took a deep breath in attempt to calm herself as he held the door for her, but

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his light touch under her arm as they walked down the front steps sent a thrill through her that was both pleasurable and unnerving.

Belinda walked by his side as calmly as she could manage, anxious to take her seat in the hotel dining room before the whole small town was abuzz with the fact that she was out strolling with the new doctor.

The dinner was an enjoyable experience for both of them. Jackson talked easily, sharing with Belinda stories of his experiences in medical training and his excitement over new medicines and treatments that were constantly being discovered.

"The field of medicine is moving forward so quickly that it is difficult for us doctors to keep up," he said, genuine awe in his voice.

Belinda could not help but feel some of his enthusiasm. For a moment her old wish came to mind.
I wish I'd been a boy. Then I could have been a doctor.
But she did not dwell on it for long.

When there was a bit of a lull in the conversation, Belinda dared present a question. She didn't know how Jackson would respond to being asked about a patient--by a mere nurse. She was so used to working with Luke, and they discussed all cases openly.

"What. . . what do you think about Mrs. Stafford-Smyth and her progress?" she ventured rather timidly.

"From reading all of Luke's reports and examining her today, I would say that she has made a remarkable recovery," he answered without hesitation.

Belinda relaxed. It was good to hear another doctor fresh from the latest in medical training agree with Luke about her patient. She had really become quite attached to the elderly lady, in spite of the obvious difference in their social backgrounds.

"I think that getting her up for a brief time was an excellent idea," Jackson continued. "Did she tire quickly?"

"She surprised me. But I didn't leave her up quite as long As

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she would have liked. I was afraid she might overdo."

"Good for you," encouraged Jackson. "She should gain her strength back quickly now as long as she doesn't do something foolish and have a setback."

"She is beginning to talk about traveling home to Boston," Belinda said slowly.

"Home? That might be rushing things a bit. Unless, of course, she has someone who will come and travel with her. Even then I would give it another week or two at the least."

A week or two.
That really wasn't very long.

"Someone mentioned a traveling companion," went on Jackson.

"Yes," said Belinda, "but we just heard from the woman. She hasn't recovered well after her surgery. She isn't able to come."

"Well, Mrs. Stafford-Smyth definitely won't be able to travel by herself for some time yet," said Jackson soberly. Then he brightened. "But perhaps something else could be arranged. I would like to see you freed up from your heavy responsibility as soon as possible."

Belinda looked up quickly. "I've rather enjoyed nursin' her," she said.

"I'm sure you have. And you have done a commendable job. But there comes a time when one must move on to other things. . . don't you think?" and Jackson smiled at Belinda in the soft light of the lamp.

She nodded.
Perhaps it is time to move on to other things,
she agreed, but she did not voice her thoughts to Jackson. Something told her that she and Jackson might not quite be thinking along the same lines. She wondered just what he might say if she were to tell him about Mrs. Stafford-Smyth's complimentary proposal. But she decided that this might not be the time. After all, the two doctors did need a nurse to assist in the office, and Flo was not yet knowledgeable enough to take over all the duties. Belinda

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decided she would not concern Jackson with the possibility that she might ask for a few months' leave. At least not just yet.

"Now, about that medication," Belinda began, but Jackson stopped her with a chuckle.

"In my hurry to pick up a very attractive young lady, I'm afraid I've forgotten to bring it," he said. Then he added quickly, "I'll be sure to bring it with me when I come to check Mrs. Stafford-Smyth in the morning."

"So .. . so you will be coming again tomorrow?" asked Belinda shyly.

"Luke and I went through all the patient files, and Mrs. Stafford-Smyth is one of the patients that we agreed I will take," answered Jackson simply.

Belinda nodded. "And the . . . the directions for giving the medication?" she prompted.

"Very straightforward--nothing other than one tablet morning, noon, and night--with water."

Belinda blinked.
Hadn't
Jackson indicated complicated instructions when he'd mentioned the new medication earlier? Or had she imagined it?

Jackson was talking about his desire to help bring culture, in some small measure, to their town.

"It would be so enriching and relaxing," he said, "to attend a play or a concert now and then," and though Belinda had never had the pleasure of either, she quite agreed.

"It would also help young suitors, such as myself," Jackson went on with a knowing smile. "What is there now to offer a young woman except a walk in the fresh air or a ride in the country?"

Is
Jackson thinking of courting someone? He couldn't mean me! Belinda's thoughts rushed frantically through her mind. To cover her confusion, she tried to make a little joke with, "Well, there
are
the school programs each spring." She was very relieved when

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they laughed together and Jackson, as far as she was concerned, completely changed the conversation.

"Mr. O'Connel seems like a fine young man."

"Yes," agreed Belinda innocently. "He is."

"Is he from the area or did he move in?"

"He grew up here. Went to our school, in fact. But I guess thet was before you came. He was ahead of me. He left to go off to work fer his uncle down state."

"Was he just paying a visit in the area when--?"

"Oh no. He's back to stay"

"What does he do?"

Belinda thought it was nice of Jackson to be so interested in Rand.

"He's a builder," she replied. Thinking of the fine house Rand had built for the Kirbys made her eyes brighten. "He built the most magnificent house," she continued enthusiastically. "He had a fella come and help him with the most ornate parts--the gables and fancy trimmin's an' all--but he built most of it himself."

"Is it the building or the builder that makes your eyes shine?" Jackson asked softly.

Belinda flushed. "Maybe . . . maybe it's just the lamplight reflectin' in my eyes," she countered. Then she responded truthfully, "Rand is a good friend."

"Just a friend?"

"Of. . . of course," Belinda answered.

"Nothing more? Because, if you have an understanding. . ." Jackson spoke softly and left the sentence dangling.

"We have no understandin'," Belinda offered quietly, though she did wonder why it was necessary for her to explain this to Jackson. She noticed his look of relief. He nodded and smiled at her.

"Then," he said with mock formality, "since there is nothing