When the Heart Heals (17 page)

Mr. Grisbee pocketed the remedy without looking at it. “Can't abide tea.”

The corner of Dr. Stewart's mouth twitched. “Hot water, then.”

“That's worse.”

“Peppermint tea is rather pleasant, Mr. Grisbee,” Rosemary said. “Faith has some leaves at the mercantile. I can stop in after five and explain the brewing.” She didn't add she'd also bring mullein with her.

“All right, Miss Rosemary.” He plopped his hat on and shuffled to the door. “See you after five.” Coughing, he left the office.

The doctor folded his arms across his middle. “You're prescribing again.”

For some reason, he didn't appear angry. He looked almost . . . amused.

“Mint tea isn't a prescription. People drink it all the time.”

“If you say so.” Shaking his head, he returned to his office. This time he didn't close the door.

At the end of the day, Rosemary gathered her things and prepared to leave.

“Miss Saxon?”

She turned, hoping he didn't want her to stay later. She had enough time to keep her appointment with Mr. Grisbee. Then she hoped to pay an additional call before sunset, if the doctor didn't give her more to do.

“Am I still welcome to visit you this evening? You were to show me how to prepare a comfrey poultice.”

Her hand flew to her lips. “Oh! I completely forgot. The incident with Miss Graves—”

At the mention of the young woman's name, his face reddened. “Can we set that aside for the time being? I'm asking about tonight.”

“Something has come up.” She didn't add that the “something” had to do with Jolene and Galen. “If you're willing, tomorrow evening would be suitable.”

Relief flooded his features, followed by a shy smile. “Tomorrow evening. I look forward to it.”

The doctor remained in her thoughts long after she completed her visit to the mercantile. She loved the creases that
formed in the wake of his smile, like ripples on a pond. Daydreaming, she reached the corner in front of the barbershop and paused to let Bodie catch up to her.

Reality jolted her back to the moment. She cupped her hand over her mouth to prevent a sob from escaping. Her dog wouldn't be running after her, now or ever.

The last traces of sunlight cast a beacon between the shadows on the road ahead. Squaring her shoulders, she marched the final block to the Frenches' house. She couldn't do anything more about Bodie, but she could attempt to help Jolene.

Clarissa answered her knock. Her face wore a harried expression, which smoothed when she saw Rosemary. “How good to see you.” The reverend's wife stood in their spacious entryway. The polished wood floor behind her shone in lamplight spreading from twin sconces on either side of a mirrored hall tree stand. “I must tell you, the tea you brought helps ever so much with my headaches. I wonder, though, the next time you drop by, could you bring some more?” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Just when I think Galen is adjusting, something agitates him. Then yesterday—”

“Yesterday is why I came to talk to you and Reverend French.” Rosemary wondered whether Clarissa could hear her heart thudding in her chest. “Is he home?”

“Oh goodness, I've left you standing on the porch while I chatter away. Please, come in. I'll fetch Ethan.” She led her into the sitting room and patted a high-backed chair upholstered in flowered fabric. “You'll be comfortable here. Would you like some refreshment?”

She felt perspiration tickle at her hairline. “Thank you, no. What I have to say shouldn't take long.”

“My gracious. Now I'm curious.” Clarissa bustled from the room. Within moments, she returned with her husband.

After he greeted Rosemary, he sat next to his wife on a settee. A frown creased the bushy eyebrows above his gray eyes. “You're concerned about something that happened yesterday? How can I help?”

Now that she faced Galen's parents, she didn't know where to begin. She closed her eyes for a moment to gather courage.

“I'm sure you remember Miss Graves, the young woman who stayed with me for several weeks.”

The two of them nodded in unison.

“Apparently she caught your son's fancy. He asked to court her.”

At this, Clarissa beamed. “Thank the Lord. I've prayed he'd settle down with a nice girl.”

“It's not that simple.” Rosemary hesitated, aware she was treading on shaky ground. “Miss Graves is expecting a child. The father left before she knew of her condition. When Galen showed an interest in her, she fled to her parents, not wanting him to learn that she wasn't . . . pure.” She leaned forward. “She cares enough for your son that she didn't want him to find her. Unfortunately, yesterday—”

Reverend French sprang to his feet and finished Rosemary's sentence. “Galen found her.”

She nodded. “Would you please explain the circumstances to him? Whether or not he decides to pursue a friendship with Miss Graves, he deserves to know.”

The reverend and his wife exchanged an agonized look. “I'd tell him if I knew where he was,” Reverend French said. His voice choked. “He didn't come home last night. No one's seen him.”

A
fter leaving the Frenches' house, Rosemary covered the distance to her home feeling like she'd been trampled by a team of horses. Galen missing. Although his parents said he'd disappeared on other occasions since returning from the war, she felt in some way responsible for yesterday's events. If she weren't working in the doctor's office, Galen would never have gone there to ask about Jolene. Then Dr. Stewart wouldn't have interfered.

He meant no harm,
a little voice inside said.
He must have a good heart.

He does
, she told the little voice.
He cares about his patients—even to the extent of worrying that I'll harm them with my herbs.

Rosemary crossed the street and passed his house, noticing the windows were dark. He was probably at Jacob's restaurant for supper. If she weren't so tired, she'd bake a small treat for him before he called on her tomorrow evening.

She climbed the stairs to her porch, her steps dragging. Tea would have to do.

Cassie opened the door before she could reach for the latch.
“When you left the mercantile, I thought you'd go straight home. Where were you?”

“I paid a visit to Reverend French and his wife.” She hung her shawl and bonnet next to the door and sniffed the air. “Do I smell food?”

“I put last evening's pea soup on to warm.” Cassie lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “I may not know how to cook, but I can heat the stove.”

“I'm grateful. Today has been . . . trying. After supper, I'm going straight to bed.”

“Didn't you say Dr. Stewart was expected this evening? I tidied the sitting room.”

The loose cushions on the settee had been fluffed and scattered reading material stacked in the bookshelf. The basket holding Cassie's tatting rested beside one of the chairs.

Rosemary gave her a one-armed hug. “Bless you. I asked him to wait until tomorrow. I'm sure the room will still look lovely.”

She wondered whether she should tell the doctor about Galen. Probably not. No telling what he'd do.

Rosemary woke from a fitful sleep at the sound of someone pounding on the front door. She clutched her nightdress at her throat. What if the person who'd damaged her greenhouse and her plants had returned? Unlikely he'd knock, but—

The pounding continued. She pulled on her wrapper, lit a candle, and stepped into the hallway. Cassie stood at the top of the stairs, a small revolver in her hand. The light bounced off the pearl handle.

“Good heavens, Cassie. Put that away.”

She shook her head. “My father taught me to use this when the war started. Mother has one too. There were soldiers
at our door more than once, coming to take our food and valuables.”

“Rebels?”

“From both sides.” She linked her arm with Rosemary's. “Let's go see who's there. Could be your brother. Maybe something happened to Judge Lindberg and they want your help.”

“It isn't Curt. He'd call my name rather than scare us to death.”

She led the way down the steps. When they reached the entry, Cassie clicked the hammer back and stepped to one side, allowing her the first glimpse of their visitor when Rosemary opened the door.

“I wish you'd put that away,” Rosemary whispered.

“No.”

Lord, please protect us.
She slid the bolt away and inched the door open a crack.

A black boot shoved the opening wide. Dr. Stewart stood on the porch, a limp bundle of fur in his arms.

Rosemary's muscles went slack. The candle fell to the floor, leaving them in near darkness. She held both hands toward the doctor's burden. “Bodie?”

“I'm sure it's him.” Silver moonlight silhouetted his frame as he stepped inside.

Rosemary moaned and lifted the dog from his arms. Trembling, Bodie licked her chin. She sank to the floor and buried her face in his muddy fur. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you.” The hammer snapped closed on the revolver. She looked up as Cassie slipped the weapon into a pocket in her wrapper, then moved to the sitting room and lit the lamp. Dim yellow light traced the outline of ribs and hip bones on Bodie's emaciated body. A frayed rope dangled from his neck.

With gentle hands, Dr. Stewart helped Rosemary to her feet. “Would you please carry him to a table so I can examine him?”

Clutching her dog close to her chest, she led the way to the kitchen. Cassie followed with the lamp and placed it on a shelf where the light would reach them.

When Rosemary laid Bodie on the worktable, he thumped his tail against the wood. Tears slipped from her eyes. “Where did you find him?”

“South of town several miles. The Haggertys' girls were sick, and Mr. Haggerty came to fetch me. I spotted Bodie in a ditch next to the road on my way home. It's providential we had a moon tonight or I'd never have seen him.”

She fingered the rope. “And this?”

“Looks like someone kept him tied up and he chewed his way free.”

“Who would do such a thing?”

“Wish I knew. I'd have him horsewhipped.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Let's clean this mud off so I can see if he's hurt anywhere.”

“Of course.” She took a dishpan from a shelf under the window and held it under the tap on a reservoir beside the stove. “Thankfully, the water's still warm.” After setting the filled basin to one side, she dashed into the pantry, returning with a cake of soap and an armful of towels.

When the doctor reached for one of the towels, she shook her head. “Let me.”

He stepped to one side while she dipped the cotton flannel into the basin. Starting at the dog's neck, she used gentle strokes to swab the clotted dirt from his fur. “You'll be fine. Dr. Stewart will help you,” she whispered. The dog's trusting eyes didn't leave her face while she worked.

Elijah watched as Rosemary bathed her dog. She paid no heed to the fact that she wore nightclothes, with her black
hair twined in a thick braid hanging almost to her waist. Something about her intent expression stirred a memory.

He saw himself standing at the entrance to one of the wards in the Post Hospital at Jefferson Barracks. An incoming soldier lay sprawled on a cot, a bowl of water and a cake of soap resting on a low table beside him. A nurse leaned over the man and washed blood and grime from his upper body so Elijah could treat the wound in the man's side. While she worked, the nurse murmured encouragement to the soldier, who didn't take his eyes from her.

The picture in his mind sharpened. When Rosemary raised her head to look at him, her image sliced through the curtain he'd placed over his wartime years.
She's the same nurse.
Without further thought, he touched her damp hand where it rested on Bodie's side. “I remember you. From the Barracks. You were there during the first month of my medical service.”

A small smile flitted across her lips. “Yes. I recognized you the first time I called at your office.”

“Why haven't you said anything?”

“Clearly, you didn't know who I was. It would have been forward of me.” She moved to one side. “We can reminisce later. Please, examine my dog.”

He ran his hands along the animal's sides and down over its abdomen, then lifted each of its legs in turn, manipulating the joints. Resting his fingers on Bodie's chest, he felt for the heartbeat. Steady and strong. When he finished, the dog struggled to stand.

“Careful, boy, you don't want to fall off the table.” He placed a restraining hand on the dog's back and turned to Rosemary. “Fortunately, I find no visible injuries. He needs some warm food and plenty of water. Don't feed him too much at once.”

Cassie struck a match on the stovetop to light the candle
she held. “There's a tad bit of soup left from supper. I'll fetch it from the springhouse.”

Elijah looked around, surprised. He'd forgotten she was in the room. “Good. If you have any eggs, give him one.”

Cassie sent Rosemary a mischievous smile. “We have plenty of eggs right now.”

Pink crept over Rosemary's face. “Indeed we do. Please take a bowl with you and bring several.”

After Cassie left the room, Elijah cupped his hands under Bodie's belly and stood him on the floor. “After he eats, he'll no doubt sleep for quite a while. Why don't you spend tomorrow at home with him? I know you'll want to watch his progress.”

“Thank you.” She knelt beside her chair and Bodie wobbled over to her, tail waving. “I'm beyond grateful for your help tonight. To have him back . . .” She dipped her head for a moment, apparently fighting for control. “His return is an answer to prayer.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly embarrassed by the intimacy of the small room and Miss Saxon's dishabille. “Must have been. Why else would he have been in that spot when I rode past?” He inched toward the doorway. “I should go.”

She glanced down at her mud-stained wrapper, crimson staining her already pink cheeks. “Of course.” When she rose, she folded her arms over her chest. “I'll see you out.”

“No need. Best if you stay with Bodie.” He retrieved his jacket from the back of a chair. “If I may, I'll stop by tomorrow to see how he's doing—and maybe you'll teach me how to make a comfrey poultice.”

“I'd be happy to.”

The light in her eyes buoyed his steps as he crossed the street to his house. Finding Bodie had answered more than one prayer.