When the Heart Heals (4 page)

Flipping to a new page in the receipt book, she asked, “May I know your name?”

“Miss Jolene Graves.” Her voice trembled. “I've never been to a doctor before. Girls in town told me this one's nicer than the old one—Dr. Greeley. Is he?”

“Definitely.” She smiled reassurance, recalling the town's senior practitioner's opinionated personality.

After several silent minutes, Dr. Stewart emerged and escorted his patient to the exit, then turned and nodded at Rosemary. “Please show this young lady into the examination room.”

Jolene blanched.

“Don't worry, ma'am. My nurse will stay with you.” He stepped to the open door and stood to one side. A lamp glowed on the side wall, casting yellow light over the long table under a curtained window.

Rosemary took Jolene's arm and led her to one of two chairs inside. Stepping back, she waited under a second window while Dr. Stewart closed the door behind them.

“This is Miss Graves, Doctor,” Rosemary said.

He straightened his black coat. “What can I do for you, miss?”

“I've been terrible sick. Can't keep nothing down. Took everything I've got to get dressed and come here today.” She sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment. “I can't hardly do my work at Miss Lytle's Millinery—can't do nothing.”

Rosemary stifled the impulse to ask Miss Graves if she'd tried raspberry leaf tea.

Dr. Stewart leaned toward the patient. “I need to take your pulse. Would you please remove your gloves?” When she complied, he lifted her wrist and rested two fingers at the base of her thumb, his other hand holding his watch. After a minute, he closed the timepiece. “A little rapid, but nothing abnormal.”

He palpated the glands in her neck. “No swelling.” Stepping back, he studied her face.

“How long have you been ill?”

“A few weeks.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“No . . . well, I'm tired, but that's because I'm sick.”

He leaned against the table. “Is there any possibility you might be expecting a child?”

Her face grew whiter, then flushed scarlet. “Yes,” she said, her voice nearly inaudible. “I was hoping you'd say it was something else.”

“A baby's certainly better than a disease. I believe the druggist carries Hoofmann's German Bitters. That should help with your nausea. Tell him I sent you.” Compassion softened his features. “You'll need to tell the father.”

“He's gone. Went north looking for work. I don't know where.”

“Your parents, then.”

“I dassn't. They'd kill me.” Tears rolled over her cheeks.

“I doubt that, Miss Graves,” Dr. Stewart said in a gentle voice. “I suggest you talk to them.” He turned to Rosemary. “There'll be no charge for this visit. You may see the patient out.” He entered his private office and closed the connecting door behind him.

Jolene covered her face with her hands. “What am I going to do?” She choked the words through her sobs.

Rosemary put an arm around the girl's shoulders. “Come with me. I have some ginger water in my carryall. It might help settle your stomach.” She kept her voice low, mindful of the doctor's prohibition against her “potions.”

She settled Jolene on the sofa and poured ginger water into a cup. “Sip this slowly,” she said, then perched next to her. “You can't hide this from your parents.”

“Yes, I can.”

“They're sure to notice as time passes.”

“I don't live with them. I share a room in town with two other girls.” Fresh tears slid from her eyes. “But I can't work. I can't pay my part of the rent.”

Rosemary threw a glance at Dr. Stewart's closed door. “I can show you how to brew a tea that may help you. That way you won't have to spend money on patent medicine. Can you come to my house this evening, say around half past five?”

Jolene's woebegone features brightened. “Oh, thank you, miss. I know I could think better what to do if I wasn't so sick all the time.”

Her heart constricted at the hope in the girl's eyes. Helping her with the nausea would be simple compared to what faced Jolene in the months ahead.

R
osemary bustled around the kitchen, building up the fire, heating water in a kettle, all the while trotting back and forth to the sitting room to keep an eye on the clock. She'd given Jolene clear directions to her house. It was the only one on this block to have a four-foot-high picket fence surrounding the yard, so it shouldn't be difficult to find. As the minutes ticked toward six, she went to the front window and peered along the deserted boardwalk. Perhaps the girl had second thoughts about trusting her.

Water sputtered on the stovetop, drawing her back to the kitchen. She slid the kettle to one side. If Jolene didn't arrive in the next few minutes, she'd return the jar of dried raspberry leaves to the pantry and fetch the remainder of last night's soup from the springhouse.

In the quiet, she heard Bodie gnawing on the bone Jacob had given him. Every now and then his tail thumped the floor. When a knock sounded, he looked up and gave a halfhearted “woof.”

“Some watchdog you are. Seduced by a bone.” She strode to the entryway and opened the door. “Jolene. I was afraid you weren't coming.”

The young woman stepped inside, then peeked over her shoulder. “Someone was standing by your gate watching the house. He left when he saw me on the sidewalk.” She spoke in a shaky whisper.

Fear prickled the hair on Rosemary's arms. She leaned past Jolene and surveyed the empty street, then slammed the door. “What did he look like?” Her pulse hammered in her throat. The note. Footprints. Now this.

“Hard to tell, miss. I only saw the side of his face under his hat. Might've been old—he walked kind of bent.”

Rosemary sucked in a deep breath. Her worries weren't Jolene's problems. “Perhaps it was a coincidence.” She moved toward the kitchen. “Maybe he merely paused to rest for a moment.”

“Maybe.” Doubt in her voice, Jolene followed her.

When they entered the warm room, Rosemary drew a chair away from the table. “Please sit. I'm going to show you how to brew raspberry leaf tea. I'm quite sure it will help settle your stomach.”

“I can't believe you'd do this for me. You're an angel straight from God.”

“No. I'm a nurse. It's a blessing for me to be able to help you.”

Jolene clasped her hands under her chin. “I've been praying. You're the answer to my prayers, and that's the end of it.”

Rosemary patted the girl's shoulder, then placed the jar of dried leaves on the table next to a teapot. While she measured, she explained how much to use and how long to steep the tea. “Be sure to drink it warm. A little honey won't hurt if you like sweetness.” She set the lid on the pot. “When it's ready, you can try a cup.”

Bodie padded out from behind the stove and laid his chin on Jolene's lap. Her eyes widened. “He looks like the dog we
have at home.” She put a tentative hand on his head, rubbing his ear with her thumb.

“Where is home?” Rosemary asked, her voice soft. She hoped she didn't sound prying.

Jolene pressed back in her chair. Dark circles around her eyes accented her gaunt features. “Between here and Hartfield. My folks have a farm. They wanted me to stay and work the fields along with my brothers, but I had hopes for better things. I came here and found me a job helping make hats.” She dropped her gaze to the top of Bodie's head. “I should've stayed home. None of this would have happened.”

Rosemary thought of the decisions she'd made that brought her to the place where she found herself today. If she hadn't volunteered as a nurse for the Union, her parents might acknowledge her existence. She'd probably still be living in St. Louis. Instead, here she was struggling for independence in Noble Springs.

She dusted her hands together. “No sense playing what-might-have-been. Let's see what we can do about your situation today.”

“The doctor was my last hope. Anything would be better than the fix I'm in.” She turned anxious eyes on Rosemary. “I do piecework for Miss Lytle, but when I'm too sick I don't earn anything. The girls I live with said they want me to move out so they can find someone else.”

Rosemary poured the tea and pushed the cup toward Jolene. “Try this. If it helps as much as I think it will, you could be able to return to your sewing tomorrow. Surely the other girls will give you more time if they see you can do your job.”

“They might.” She sipped the tea, made a face, and reached for the jar of honey next to the teapot.

“Start your day with this tea, then try some dry toast.” She studied the girl's peaked face, wishing she could do more to help.

Cassie slipped into Dr. Stewart's office midmorning the following Monday. She hastened to Rosemary's desk, her taffeta skirt rustling. “Mother's at the mercantile. She sent me over for her tonic. You said you'd have it today.”

“I do.” After casting an anxious glance at the doctor's closed door, Rosemary reached into her carryall and removed the valerian tincture. She thrust the paper-wrapped vial into Cassie's hands. “After this, you'll have to come to my house, either in the evening or on the weekend. Dr. Stewart doesn't want—”

The door to his private office opened. “Miss Haddon, isn't it? Paying another social call?” His gaze shifted to the package in her hand.

Rosemary closed her eyes, wishing Cassie would tuck the tincture out of sight.

Cassie looked confused. “You don't want people to come to see Miss Saxon? I do apologize. I had no idea.”

He cocked his head in her direction. “Miss Saxon is free to visit with callers anytime she's not occupied with her duties. However, keep in mind only one of us is a physician, and it's not Miss Saxon.”

Rosemary folded her arms across her chest. “I've had no opportunity to let my friend know that you're concerned about my herbal remedies.” She turned to Cassie. “The doctor is afraid I'll poison somebody and he'll be blamed.”

“Miss Saxon. I didn't say that.” Dr. Stewart's face reddened. “Don't put words in my mouth.”

“Well, words to that effect.” She turned her back on him
and faced a wide-eyed Cassie. “After this, can you visit me at home?”

“Yes. Of course. Soon, I hope.” She inched toward the door. “Good day, Doctor.”

He tugged at the hem of his coat. “Good day to you.”

Elijah watched through the window as Miss Haddon hurried west along the street. What must she think of him? Squabbling with the nurse as though they were children. He should have known better than to hire the woman. It wasn't as if her prickly nature came as a surprise.

Miss Saxon spoke from behind her desk. “I promised I'd have that tincture ready for her. I'm sorry you were upset. She won't bother you again.”

He flopped on the sofa and gave her a hard look. “She's not the one who's upsetting me. You are. I'm trying to build a practice in this town and I can't have people thinking I'm unsociable.”

“Well, you certainly didn't sound sociable toward Miss Haddon.” Two spots of red glowed on her cheeks. Her round hazel eyes sparked.

He gripped his thighs, fighting for calm. All his life he'd been accused of being too easygoing. This woman could raise his hackles with a single sentence. “I don't want you prescribing for my patients. Otherwise, I don't care if half the town troops in here to call on you.”

“That's not likely to happen,” she said. “I can count on my fingers the number of people who want to associate with me.” She sounded wistful.

The glimpse at her vulnerability touched him. He softened his voice. “I assumed you had many childhood friends here in Noble Springs.”

“No. I came here from St. Louis a year ago in March to join my brother. He passed through the area while he was in the Army and thought this would be a good place to settle.” A wry smile lifted a corner of her mouth. “Once word got around that I'd been a nurse, many of the proper women in town believed my morals had to be in question. I'm hoping to disabuse them.”

“Most nurses returned to their families after the war. Why didn't you?”

Her lips thinned. “I had no home to return to.” Her expression told him not to ask any more questions.

He stood, gazing at her with new respect. If her home had been destroyed, small wonder she needed to survive on her own. A question pricked at the back of his mind. No major battles had been fought in St. Louis—what happened to her family?

Bodie greeted Rosemary with licks and wiggles when she arrived home that evening. She locked the front door behind her, then sank to her knees and hugged his soft fur. “I missed you too.”

Dr. Stewart's question had pricked a scab over the wound that opened during her conversation with Jolene. A wound she hoped had healed. The war had ended, but not for her mother. Amanda Saxon's Carolina roots influenced her every action, and when her brother was killed at Gettysburg, she'd turned on Curt and Rosemary as though their Union affiliations made them personally responsible. The never-ending echo of her parents' door slamming behind her rang in Rosemary's ears.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she rose to her feet. If only there were some way . . . Rosemary shook her head. She'd
tried more than once, only to be rebuffed. She had Curt, and now Faith. The three of them would form their own family.

The dog nosed her hand.

“You need to go outside, Bodie. You've been in since noontime.”

He wagged his tail and ran to the back door. Smiling at his anticipation, she unlocked the door and followed him down the steps into her small yard. Rain clouds scudded overhead, but the sun pushed through from the horizon, propelling shadow arrows from the picket fence across the winter-stunted grass.

Rosemary strolled to the door of her greenhouse and slipped inside. An earthy fragrance rose from terra-cotta pots lined on shelves along three interior walls. In the southwestern corner, a large pot held her sprawling mint plant. Herb and flower sprouts nodded from their soil beds on two narrow tables in the center of the space. Another few weeks and she'd be able to transplant most of the starts outside.

Through the wavy glass panes spaced along the sides of the wooden structure, she saw Bodie sniffing along the gravel path that led to the front of the house. Suddenly his body stiffened. He growled. Taking one slow step after another, he stalked forward along the walkway.

Her hand at her throat, Rosemary grabbed a shovel and stepped out of the greenhouse. If the person who'd left the message on her porch thought he was going to scare her, he had a surprise coming. She raised the shovel and held it at her shoulder like a club.

Bodie disappeared around the corner.

She listened but heard no footsteps on the gravel. The dog must have frightened away whoever it was, unless he was biding his time until she appeared. Rosemary marched to the front of the house, her grip tight on the handle.

“Miss Rosemary? What are you doing?” Jolene stood inside the gate. Bodie leaned against her leg, his feathery tail waving.