Stone Dreaming Woman (34 page)

“I think the Hildebrands are bankrupt. Phillip let slip to Corporal Weller that he dared not go home without a firm commitment that I’d marry him and bring a substantial dowry with me.”

“Oh, bosh. James is practically carrying Northtown’s whole research program by himself.”

“I believe the term is deficit spending. He is spending beyond his means and desperately needs the Weston money.”

“You’d better have facts to back that allegation. I believe you’re making it up. You’re just trying to weasel out of keeping your word. But when you’re married to Phillip you may be First Lady someday. What do you think of that?”

Her lethargy snapped. She turned hard eyes on her father, and at once they brimmed caustic tears of helpless hatred. “Why do you even bother to ask? Are you enjoying rubbing the salt in, then?”

“After a few babies, you’ll think in an altogether different vein. You’ll be doing what women were put on earth to do.”

She rounded on him with surprising venom. “Father, you may force me to marry. You may even force me out of medicine. But there is no power on earth that can force me to have marital relations with a man I detest, or to bear his children. I will guarantee you this right now. I will never allow Phillip Hildebrand to consummate our marriage. I will force him to divorce me. It will be public and it will be messy, I guarantee.”

“If you do not have a child within three years of your marriage, I will disinherit you.”

“Didn’t your own father threaten the same thing if you married Mother?”

“That’s not in the least comparable, and you know it. I’m a man.”

“Oh! I understand now! Bullying a daughter is permissible. Coercing a son is not. Fine. Disinherit me this moment! I welcome it! I can make my way in the world. And like Uncle Richard, once I am out of your household, I want no further contact with you, ever. From this moment, I have no father. You are nothing more to me than the neighborhood bully all grown up.”

“You may feel that way now, but believe me, someday you’ll thank…”

That was the last straw. She felt a rush of anger so strong that for an instant lightning flashed in her head and she was within a scant inch of lashing out physically. She heard her voice low and harsh, interrupting him in a way she had never dared before. “I’ll tell you exactly when I’ll thank you. I’ll thank you when you and Phillip Hildebrand are both dead and I’m free!” She had heard the phrase
deafening silence
. Now it wrapped around them in the darkness of the hired cab.

“Jen?” he asked after a moment’s pause. She was too angry to catch the slight hesitance that crept into his voice.

“Yes, Father?”

“You and Inspector Adair—do you love each other?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. You’ve lost no opportunity to let me know that you couldn’t care a whit less what either of us feels toward the other.”

“Just tell me, Jen.” He suddenly sounded old and tired.

“Yes, we do. Why do you think he tried to follow me tonight? He knows you lied to him, and he also said that as soon as he’s well he’s coming to New York after me. You’ve not heard the last of him, and he’s one man even you can’t bully.” John looked at her, his expression thoughtful and worried at once. She resumed staring blankly at the front of the cab. He reached up and knocked on the roof, summoning the driver.

The teamster slid his small hatch open and leaned over. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

“Pull over a moment, please. I need to check my valise. I think I may have forgotten something.”

“Right away, sir.” Jenny heard him call “whoa” to the horses, and the cab stopped along the right-hand verge of the unpaved street. She did not move.

“Jen?” he asked.

“Yes, Father?”

“I loved your mother more than my very soul. She was charming and gentle and lovely, and she was completely content to let me do all her thinking. You look so much like her that it’s difficult for me to realize that you do think. And to boot, you think like a Weston.” He broke off with a deep sigh. For a moment she felt the merest glimmer of hope.

“How would you have felt if someone told you that you couldn’t practice medicine? What would you have done if someone picked out a wife who made your flesh crawl and told you your feelings didn’t matter? I meant what I said. Perhaps someday I will be grateful to you, but it will only come if you give up your heavy-handed interference in my life.”

“Then you’ll let Northtown go to the dogs.”

“I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. Tell the driver to go to the depot. But bear in mind that James Hildebrand is after your money. When you discover that he is indeed in dire financial straits, you’ll know I’ve been right all along, and you’ll have to live with the fact that you ruined your only child’s life for nothing more than the satisfaction of your own stubborn, selfish pride.”

“You’ll not have to prove to me that you can keep a promise,” he sighed. “in spite of what you may think now, my heart isn’t made of granite. I’ve alienated you enough already. I don’t want you to hate me for the rest of your life.

“You never knew your grandfather because we did not move to Parkfield until after his death. I thought I did not treat you as he treated me because I never made you address me as ‘sir’ or stand whenever you were in my presence. He did storm and fume and rage at me when I announced that I wanted to marry your mother. He objected most strongly to her Southern roots. We wed completely against his wishes, and he did disinherit me. I only shared in his estate because Mother, Richard, and Martha felt I had been treated unfairly, and they gave Parkfield to me. He also broke up your Aunt Martha’s one true romance because he disapproved of the man’s religion. Richard did not escape his wrath, either. He wanted at least one son to follow him into the military, and I had already chosen medicine. He berated Richard ceaselessly for choosing what he deemed to be a less than masculine career. And you know how your grandmother eventually came to feel about him, largely because of the callous way he treated his children. I confess I loathed him to his dying day, and yet I find myself behaving exactly as he did.” He paused and sighed deeply again.

“You mean…” There was a sudden glimmer of light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

“Doctor MacBride says you’ve done sterling work while you’ve been sharing his practice, and I’ll admit I felt no small pride when he said that. He’s right. You’re needed here, and if you choose to be a country doctor, then be the best. You can, you know. You’re a Weston.” He gave her a quirky, bittersweet half-smile.

“You’re not making me go with you?” By way of reply he drew the train tickets from his pocket and eloquently tore them in half. “And what of Northtown?”

“Our Lord said let the dead bury the dead. Northtown can raise its own funds. There are enough rich widows who need charitable causes. Need I say that I am an eligible widower? I can appeal to them regardless of what James Hildebrand does. And if you and Inspector Adair decide you want to be married, I’ll give you the grandest wedding New York ever saw.”

“Even if his grandmother is a full-blooded Iroquois?”

“You’re a lady of taste and breeding. I trust your judgment.” She did not believe her ears. She sat dumbfounded until he tapped on the roof of the cab. The driver leaned down again.

“Sir?”

“Go back to the hospital, please. I did indeed leave something important behind. You needn’t hurry. I’ve missed tonight’s train at any rate.”

“Yes, sir,” the teamster responded. He chirped to his horses, and the cab swung in an unhurried, deliberate half circle.

Jenny felt slow, relieved tears tracing their way down her cheeks. She decided to try to talk them away. “Shane is a wonderful man. He’s sophisticated, kind, brave, honest, and gentle. He’s also talented and intelligent. And his maternal great-grandfather was a person of some note. Remember your French history? Claude des Roches?”

“The name is familiar. Wasn’t he some sort of royal advisor, supposed to have been executed in the Reign of Terror?”

“The truth is that he escaped to Canada. His youngest son by his much younger second wife was Shane’s grandfather, who raised him after his parents and his older sister died in a smallpox epidemic.” She had hoped she could distract herself from tears, but it did not work. They still fell, spotting the front of her traveling outfit.

“Jenny,” her father said quietly, reaching toward her. She came into his embrace and sobbed against him for a moment. “Jenny, don’t cry now. It’ll spoil your complexion and make your nose red, and your young man is upset enough as it is, if you told him what I think you did. Go to him and make things right between you. I’ll talk to him later, too, when everything has settled down.” She dug into her reticule for a handkerchief, but her father produced one from his pocket and mopped her face as he had done countless times after childhood tumbles and bruised feelings. He pressed it into her hand. “There. Keep it. It’s a lot more utilitarian than those lacy things you ladies carry.”

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely, gulping back fresh tears. She felt the surprising strength of her father’s arms about her, and suddenly she was a little girl again, letting him keep the big, frightening world at bay. She cuddled against his chest and gave herself over to the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the rocking of the cab.

At length he drew a heavy breath. “Jenny, I know I should never have opposed your entry into medical school. But there’s more to it than the mere fact that you are a woman. Something deeper and much more personal. Do you remember your mother’s little fainting spells?”

“Yes, but in her era ladies did that sort of thing.”

She felt more than saw him shake his head slowly, sorrowfully. “No. She suffered from traumatic epilepsy after having been thrown from a runaway cart when she was four years old. Her seizures were neither severe nor frequent, and for the most part controllable with medication.

“Do you remember the day she died? She was standing on one of the garden benches picking roses, had a seizure, fell, and struck her head. She sustained an injury quite comparable to Inspector Adair’s subdural hematoma. However, we knew much less about them then. We took her to Northtown. Stuart Hoffman admitted her, and I scrubbed in on the surgery. I violated a primary precept of our profession in treating a member of my own family, but I was the only one with the requisite skill. And—God help me—we couldn’t save her. She passed away four hours post surgery. It tore my heart out. I couldn’t stand the thought that someday someone dear to you would die and you would be powerless to do anything about it. And, Jen, it almost happened.” She was shocked at what she was hearing. She had never imagined her reserved and unemotional father would ever bare his heart to her in that fashion. Her arms tightened around him.

“Oh, Father, I’m so sorry! I never realized. No one ever said anything to me. But then it didn’t happen again. You and I brought Shane through hell. It took both of us, and I’ll be forever grateful to you.”

“There’s an old saying that all’s well that ends well,” he said comfortingly, echoing what Shane had told her not so long ago. He held her against the warmth of his chest, and for the moment she remained content to take shelter in his familiar strength.

It was dark by the time they reached the hospital. She did not wait demurely to be helped from the coach. Instead, she hiked up her skirt and jumped to the sidewalk, then flew up the stairs, once again the tomboy of her childhood.

She paused outside Shane’s nearly closed door, gathered her composure, and nudged it open as quietly as she could. It was dim inside the room but not completely dark, and inside she saw a scene that would never fade from her memory. Angus was sitting at the far side of the bed, and Shane was staring up at the ceiling, ignoring whoever was trying to invade his private sphere of grief.

“Shane!” she exclaimed, her voice urgent but nonetheless soft. He looked around, and when he recognized her, an expression of disbelief came across his face but was quickly supplanted by a look of utter joy that all but lit the room.

“Jenny!” he exclaimed. She launched herself across the room and scooped him into her arms, and they clung to each other desperately. For the second time in an hour she found herself sobbing uncontrollably, her tears soaking into his butchered hair. Neither noticed when Angus left.

“What are you doing back here? Won’t you miss your train?” His voice was muffled against her neck. She felt her bonnet dangling down her back. She impatiently loosed the ribbon and let it fall.

“I’ve missed it, and there won’t ever be another unless we’re on it together.”

“Are you… You’re not leaving?”

“No, I’m not. Things changed very quickly. It’s a little more complex than I led you to believe, and I’ll explain it later, but no, I’m not going to Northtown.” She held him against her and felt his arms around her back. Then his hand touched her tear-wet cheek, traveled across it, and stroked her hair as though he had to touch her to believe she was real.

“Jenny, sweetheart, please don’t cry. It’s over now.” His voice was strangely tight, and she felt his shoulders shaking. She took a deep, calming breath and felt her tears diminish, but when she looked at him his eyelashes and her shoulder were wet. Her emotions had turned giddy, putting her very close to laughter.

“Darling…” She pulled him into her arms again.

“Whoever said grown men don’t cry certainly has a lot to learn,” he muttered, letting her hold him.

“That’s all right, sweetheart. Doctors do too, sometimes.” He pulled her down and kissed her, and she tasted the salt of tears that could have belonged to either of them. Then she realized he was shaking with fatigue and the effects of adrenaline wearing away. She eased his shoulders back against his pillows and stroked the ragged hair away from his forehead.

“Jenny, what…”

“Hush. I’m not leaving, ever. Father and I worked everything out, even where you’re concerned. He accepts you and my medical practice. He told me if I was going to be a country doctor, be the best.”