The Doctor Takes a Wife. Laurie Kingery
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“This looks wonderful, Miss Sarah. I’ve been told you’re quite a cook—and now I’ll be able to discover that for myself.”
She looked at him as if she wondered where he could have heard such a thing or if he was trying to flatter her, but said only, “Well. I hope you enjoy it. But I don’t want to waste your time, Dr. Walker. Why don’t you have a look at my wound and then I’ll be going?”
He followed her into the office, closed the door behind him, then gestured for her to sit in the chair. He began to unwrap the linen roll, noting with satisfaction that as he had instructed, the bandage had obviously been changed from the one he had applied, and once he had completely removed it, the wound itself proved to be free of redness, swelling and drainage. His sutures had held. He pressed a finger into either side of the wound, and was pleased to see that she did not flinch.
“It’s no longer painful?”
She shook her head.
“It appears to be healing well,” he said. “I want you to continue to keep it clean and dry, and change the bandage every day, and by, say, New Year’s Day, you can leave the wrapping off, get it wet and so forth.” He saw a flush of color rise in her cheeks again and realized he no longer needed to hold her forearm. He released it.
“Oh, that reminds me,” she said, once again reaching for her reticule. “Prissy asked me to give you this for her parents.” She held out a vellum envelope.
Curious, he opened it, and saw that it was an invitation to an open-house party at the home of the mayor and his wife on New Year’s Day. “A party,” he murmured. “Are you going?”
“Of course. I live right on the grounds now, you know, in that little cottage with Prissy.”
She’d mentioned her move when she’d been in his office the last time, after her fall. She would have been surprised to know he thought of her every night when he went into the hotel restaurant right across the street from the mayor’s house for his supper. If he had been on better terms with Sarah, he would have called to bring her some little thing as a housewarming present, but he hadn’t thought she’d welcome such a visit.
“Good. I’ll see you there, and I’ll bring your cake dish and cover with me—unless you need them before that?”
She must have thought it was a dismissal, for she arose and said, “No, at the party will be fine. Good day, Doctor.”
He couldn’t bear for her to leave so soon, but he had no good reason to keep her here—unless she would allow him to share the concern that had been weighing on his mind. He’d thought about waiting to bring it up till he knew her better, but after Ada’s disturbing visit, he wanted to speak of it now.
“Please,” he said, rising, too. “If you have a minute, may I discuss something with you?”
She glanced at him sharply, her eyes wary. Probably she feared he was going to revisit their conversation about why she would not let him court her. He sat back down, and as he was hoping, she sank back into her seat, too.
“I’m worried about the lady who just left, Miss Spencer. How well do you know her? Are you friends?”
She blinked. “Friends?” She gave a shrug. “I used to think so…I’ve known her for years, and she was a part of the Simpson Creek Spinsters’ Club when it started, but lately…”
Her voice trailed off, and her eyes looked troubled. He wondered if that meant she knew about the baby.
“Why do you ask?” Her tone was curious, but not guarded. No, Ada hadn’t told her.
Here was the tricky part. He wanted to make sure Ada Spencer had friends to help support her, but he didn’t know if she’d told anyone about the baby she claimed to carry. He was no more certain than he had been at Ada’s last visit that she actually was with child, and had been troubled to see that once again she’d come alone, disregarding his request to bring another female with her. And she’d seemed even more brittle, emotionally, when she’d come today than she had before.
He took a deep breath. “It’s difficult for me to say,” he began, “without violating her confidence…but I will say she seems troubled. I—I’d hoped she had friends to confide in.” He waited to see what she would say.
She hesitated, but at last she said, “Ada’s been keeping mostly to herself lately. She used to seem as carefree as any of us, but…that all changed after that Englishman came to town—the first man who was killed the day of the Comanche attack, remember?”
He nodded. Despite all the horrors Nolan had seen in the war, the image of the arrow-riddled, bloody figure slumping on his horse was a sight he’d never forget.
“They were courting,” Sarah said. “She stopped coming to the Spinsters’ Club meetings once that began. Afterward, we all assumed she was grieving, but then…” Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip, looking away.
“Then?” he prompted.
“Forgive me, Doctor…Nolan…I, uh…thought that you—that is, the two of you—were…um…”
Her face was scarlet now, and he guessed what she had been thinking. It was exactly as he had feared, and he could guess Ada Spencer had given Sarah that impression.
“I’m not sure what you thought, exactly, Miss Sarah,” he said carefully, “but Miss Spencer is my patient. Only my patient.”
“I…I see.”
Did he imagine it, or did she appear slightly less distressed?
“She’s going through a difficult time,” he said. “I think she’s in need of friends, Miss Sarah. I know it’s asking a lot, but would you perhaps be willing to…be a friend to her?”
Chapter Seven
He held his breath as he watched her eyes widen in surprise, but to his relief, he saw no immediate resistance there.
“You think she needs my friendship? What makes you think she would accept me as her friend after distancing herself all this time?”
“I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t be glad of your friendship, Miss Sarah. I know I am.” He locked his gaze with hers.
Her lashes dipped low over her eyes. “Thank you, but I’m not sure Ada would feel the same, given the way she’s been acting lately. Perhaps you should approach Reverend Chadwick—”
“I thought about that, but I really think she needs to speak to another woman at least to begin with,” he said quickly. “All I’m asking is that you try.”
She was touched by his trust in her. “And you cannot say what is troubling her?”
He shook his head. “That’ll have to come from her, if she chooses to take you into her confidence. If she won’t open up to you, perhaps she will to another of the ladies, but please use discretion in who you ask.”
Sarah studied him. “Why do you care so much about this?” she asked.
“Because I know what it’s like to feel friendless.”
She looked as if she’d like to ask him more, but just then the bell over the entrance tinkled, announcing the arrival of another patient. The whimpers of a fretful child penetrated through the door between the waiting room and the inner office.
“Duty calls,” Sarah said with a wry smile, rising again. “I—I’ll try to talk to Ada. And thank you for looking at my arm,” she added, formal once more.
“You’re very welcome.” He placed the cake inside his rolltop desk and closed the cover over it. No sense giving anyone anything else to gossip about.
She opened the door, and Nolan saw that one of the young married women of the town stood in the waiting room, holding a red-faced, squirming toddler, while another child not much older clung to her skirts.