Magic in Her Touch

by Donna Dalton

  Moving on. Alice urged him to do that. With Moira. He smiled. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

  He picked up the fork. “Mrs. Reese, would you be so kind as to scramble another batch of eggs? I find my appetite has returned.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Moira sat on the tree swing, idly swaying while a group of children played nearby. It had been over a week since she’d returned to Seaton House. As much as she wanted to stay at the office and tend to Anson, she had honored his request for time alone to think. It helped knowing that he was well cared for. Nel had agreed to bring him meals and look after him until he could get back on his feet. Her friend’s daily messages reported a slow recovery, both mentally and physically.

  He’d languished at first, refusing to eat or engage in any type of conversation other than what was required. However, in the past few days, he had brightened and was regaining his strength and his outlook. He appeared to have found something compelling him to get better. Was it the desire to return to his beloved medicine…or to her?

  A child’s trilling laugh pierced into her gloomy thoughts. She looked up as a young boy darted from behind a bush and chased after two of his playmates. A few yards away, Sophia and another girl were playing in the grass with their dolls, smiling and chatting like little magpies. She heaved a heavy sigh. The happiness that surrounded Seaton House failed to cheer her. Everything felt bleak and empty.

  A movement caught her eye, and she turned to find Meredith lumbering across the yard, her bulging stomach leading the charge. She was due any day now. The babe was head down and seated at the birthing canal.

  “He’s coming, Moira,” Meredith called out.

  Moira shot off the swing and rushed to Meredith’s side, grasping an elbow. “The baby is coming? Did your water break? Why aren’t you in bed?”

  Meredith smiled and shook her head. “Not the baby. He won’t be here for a few more days. It’s your Dr. Locke. He’s on his way to visit.”

  “You saw him?”

  Meredith had the ability to conjure visions of the near future, though she usually scried for children with special gifts who needed help. Her friend had saved many a child from torture and worse. She knew that first hand.

  “I was at my vision tree when the image jumped to Doctor Locke on horseback. I recognized Mr. Tyson’s farm in the background. Your good doctor will be here in less than an hour.”

  That wasn’t a lot of time to prepare. She gathered a handful of skirt. “Thank you, Meredith. Wish me luck.”

  She fled into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. Her head swam with conflicting thoughts. Was he coming to officially relieve her of her position at the office? Or was he going to ask her to stay? And if he wanted her to stay, what kind of relationship did he want? She knew what kind she wanted.

  She peeled off her simple day dress and donned her Sunday best – a yellow muslin gown that Anson had once remarked made her look like a songbird. She hoped she trilled the words he wanted to hear.

  The image in the mirror stared back. Circles ringed her eyes. Her skin was pale and a bit dry. She scrubbed a smudge from her cheek. Not much she could do about an appearance sapped by little sleep and a poor appetite. Anson would just have to accept her for who she was. In more ways than one.

  She clattered down the stairs, through the foyer, and down the hall to the kitchen. As she pushed through the door, Mrs. Clement started and tossed her hands in the air. Flour dust billowed around her.

  “What the devil, Miss Moira? You scared the verra life out of me.”

  The woman’s Scottish burr rained over her, a pleasant sound that brightened many a gloomy heart. Hers was feeling lighter already. “My apologies, Mrs. Clement. I shouldn’t have rushed in like that. But I need the picnic blanket and a jar of lemonade, right away. Oh, and two of those delicious scones from breakfast, if there are any left.”

  “Are ye having a picnic, then?”

  “I hope so. Meredith said Dr. Locke is on his way to visit.”

  “Is he now?” The housekeeper wiped her hands on a rag, a smile ploughing into rounded cheeks. “The blanket is on the top shelf in the pantry. And you’re in luck; there were two scones left from breakfast. I’ll put those, the lemonade, and some glasses in a basket for you.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Clement. You’re a dear.”

  She scurried to the pantry and gathered the blanket and two cloth napkins. Once Mrs. Clement packed the food, she snagged the basket and rushed through the door. She nearly collided with the brick wall on the other side.

  Strong hands reached out to steady her. She found her balance and looked up into tawny eyes. Gabe. In the gloom of the hallway, it was hard to tell if he had gotten over his anger with her or not.

  “I’m glad I caught you, Moira.”

  His tone held a quiet eagerness as if he’d been waiting on something and had found it. She heaved a soft sigh. She didn’t have time to dance around his tender ego.

  “Not now, Gabe.” She jiggled the basket hanging on her arm. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  “To meet Dr. Locke. Yes, Meredith told me.”

  Oh dear. He knew. Would he try to inflict another magical casualty on Anson? She sugared her tone. “Perhaps we can talk later? I promise to give you my undivided attention.”

  “That won’t be necessary. What I have to say won’t take long.” He dropped his hands to his sides and squared himself. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior at Nel’s wedding. It was childish of me to take my anger out on your beau. It’s clear how taken you are with him.”

  Not what she was expecting at all. “That’s very mature of you, Gabe.”

  “I hope you find all the happiness you deserve with the good doctor. He’s a lucky man.”

  “Thank you. But I’m the lucky one. I have kind and thoughtful friends like you supporting me. That means more than you know.”

  “I’m happy to call you friend as well.” He waved a hand. “Go. Get ready for your picnic. If Dr. Locke is half as smart as he looks, he’ll grab onto you and never let go.”

  From his amusing mouth to God’s ears. She smiled and clicked her way down the hall and out the rear door. All was quiet and still in the yard and nearby barns. Meredith had taken the children to another location to play. So thoughtful of her to give them some privacy.

  Moira unfurled the blanket beneath the big oak tree shadowing the yard. It was one of the spots where Meredith summoned her visions. A charmed place. Hopefully, it would be just the magic she and Anson needed.

  She set the scones on the napkins and poured lemonade into the glasses. Thoughts surfaced of the picnic they’d shared on the banks of Dancer’s Creek. Anson had been giddy with visions of their future. Of working together, of seeing the practice expand and grow. Did he still want that? Did he still want her? He cared for her. Said he loved her. She sank onto the blanket. Would that be enough to overcome what he knew about her?

  After what seemed like hours, a shadow pushed around the side of the house and then Anson was there. Her heart fluttered like butterflies flocking on a hot summer day. Oh how she loved this man. Every ornery inch of him.

  He approached, his gait a bit hitchy. He was still on the mend. But his pink coloring indicated he was well on the way to recovery.

  “Mrs. Booth said you were around back.” He pulled to a stop and cocked his head, his expression giving no hint as to his mood. “A picnic for two? Are you expecting someone to join you?”

  “Yes, you. Please, have a seat, Anson.”

  He dropped to his knees and grunted to a sitting position on the blanket. His face was freshly barbered, and he’d slicked his hair with tonic. The smell of bay rum washed over her, bringing with it the memories of their one night together. She hoped with all her heart there would be many, many more.

  “How are you doing? I assume your wounds are healing without issue. You look much better than the last time I saw you.” She was rambling. But she didn’t know what else to
say. The deeper conversation was his to carry.

  “I’m feeling much better, thanks to Mrs. Reese. She’s quite the task-master.” His face scrunched like an old rag. “How did you know I was coming? I wasn’t sure myself until a couple of hours ago.”

  She had trusted him with her secret. The secrets of Seaton House would be safe with him as well. “I told you about my healing ability. Well, everyone here at Seaton House is gifted in one manner or another. Mrs. Booth can summon visions of the near future. She saw me in the mine with Thacker and Mrs. Wentworth, and just now, saw you riding toward the orphanage.”

  “I see.”

  “Remember that voice you heard in your head telling you I was in danger? That was Sally. She’s the young girl who borrowed your handkerchief at Nel’s wedding. She uses personal objects to connect with people and send them mental messages. She did that with you after Meredith saw her vision of my abduction.”

  “I see.”

  “Sally’s older brother knocked over Nel’s wedding placard, not you. Gabe can move objects with his mind. He thought there was something between us and became jealous. He pushed the placard over, trying to stop you.”

  “I see.”

  Was that all he was going to say? Shouting or scathing remarks would be preferable to the blandness. At least she would know which side of the fence he stood on.

  He picked up the glass of lemonade and took a sip. “Quite the eclectic mix of orphans you have here at Seaton House.”

  Was that a good thing or bad? His expression remained as unremarkable as day old porridge. She nibbled on her scone. She was stalling, but she couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject that sat like a boulder between them.

  “I appreciate you telling me about everyone’s gifts.” Hurt whispered across his face, a hummingbird darting from danger. “But it’s a little too late for confessions, don’t you think? If you loved me half as much as you claim, you would have revealed all of this sooner. Your distrust cuts far deeper than any knife wound, Moira.”

  He never was one to mince words, even if they bit. She pinched off a corner of scone. “I’m sorry, Anson. I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how. You accused me of peddling snake-oil and poisons. I had no idea how you would react if you found out what I could really do.”

  “I admit, if I had known about your talent when we first met, I would have banished you from the office immediately. This gift of yours is quite…peculiar. I have never believed in or trusted the miraculous.”

  He didn’t believe in her. Maybe never would. “That is who you are, Anson. The man I have come to love. The last thing I want is to cause you pain. Yet my unwillingness to trust you has done just that. I’m sorry for hurting you. I understand if you no longer want me at the office or in your life.”

  She dropped her head and studied the scone. The humps and bumps on the biscuit were much easier to look at than pain-filled eyes.

  “Moira.”

  When she didn’t look up, he grasped her chin and lifted. She met a gentle, loving gaze. Her pulse skipped a beat.

  “I have discovered that there are things beyond what can be seen and heard and touched. Wonderful, miraculous things.” He thumbed her cheek. “I love you, Moira Devlin. And I do want you by my side, at the office and in my life. Will you make me the happiest man on this earth and beyond and become my wife?”

  “Y-you want to marry me. After all you have learned?”

  “I want every particle of you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  Her insides bloomed with joy. She dove into his arms. “Yes, Yes. Oh, Anson. A thousand times, yes. I will be your wife.”

  ****

  Moira went up on tip-toe and shoved the last of her potions onto the storage shelf. From top to bottom, the pantry bulged with colorful bottles filled with a myriad of potions. A good thing. There would be no more harvesting of herbs. Winter had charged in, dumping snow and chilly temperatures over the town. All her plants had wilted into dormancy.

  There was a silver lining to winter. Now she had more time to spend with her husband. More time to wallow in bed with his arms cradling her. More time to indulge in pleasant lovemaking.

  Arms trapped her waist in a loving grip. She smiled and melted into the body pressed against her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Locke.” He nuzzled her neck. “You smell delicious. Like a sweet treat just for my enjoyment.”

  She turned and cuddled against him, rubbing her cheek over his cotton shirt. “You are my appetizer, main course, and dessert, all rolled into one.”

  He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Why don’t we go upstairs and sate that hunger?”

  The front doorbell dinged, announcing a visitor. She leaned back and smiled. “Duty calls, Dr. Locke.”

  He groaned. “Some days, I wonder why I chose this profession. Little sleep and even less time for enjoyment.”

  “You don’t wonder why at all.”

  He smiled and took her hand. “No, I don’t. Let’s go see who needs our help.”

  Our help. Her life couldn’t get any more complete.

  A girl just budding into womanhood stood in the foyer. Red curls rebelled against hairpins and ribbons. Her skirt buckled, wrinkling like waves in a gale. Even her boots were gray with dust. Had she ridden hell-bent for medical assistance or was this just Madelene Fontaine at her best? Either was possible.

  Moira hurried down the hallway. Sally hadn’t sent any mental warnings. Yet why else would an orphan from Seaton House come calling?

  “Maddie. What are you doing here? Is there a problem at the orphanage? Is anyone hurt?”

  “Everyone is fine. I came to talk with you. I have a proposal I want to present.”

  The gleam in Maddie’s eyes warned this proposal could have tricky edges. Moira glanced at Anson who had joined them in the foyer. Other than head cocked and eyebrows raised, he remained silent.

  “What kind of proposal?” she asked.

  “I’ll show you. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  Anson pointed down the hall. “You can use the office, if you’d like. I have some equipment that needs cleaning.”

  Red curls whipped around a puckered brow. “I’d like you to hear this too, Dr. Locke.”

  One eyebrow lifted farther than the other. “Very well. Come this way.”

  Once in the office, Moira settled on the spare chair while Anson took the desk chair. Maddie stood before them, hands balled in front of her. She was uneasy. Quite unusual for a girl who charged through life as if she owned it. This proposal meant a lot to her.

  “Go on, Maddie,” she urged.

  The fourteen-year-old swiped a tongue across her lips and focused on Anson. “I understand from Meredith that your medical practice is doing quite well. Your medical skills along with Moira’s potions and healing ability are a great benefit to the people of Mineral. I want to offer them more.”

  Anson leaned forward. “More what?”

  “More options. I can provide solutions to problems that you might not be able to help them with.”

  “Such as?”

  Maddie pointed to his head. “Receding hairlines, for one.”

  Anson scrubbed a finger over his temple where the hair was retreating faster than ants scurrying away from peppermint oil. “How would you do that?”

  “With this.” Maddie pulled a small vial from her pocket and held it out in her palm. “One drop massaged into your scalp every morning will prod your hair to start growing back.”

  He turned, his expression puzzled. “Are you able to make such a potion, Moira?”

  She wagged her head. “No. I don’t have the power or the knowledge.”

  He frowned and looked back at Maddie. “What makes this potion so special?”

  Maddie hefted her chin. “Me.”

  “You? How so?”

  Green cat-eyes shifted from her to Anson and back. Moira nodded. “Go on, Maddie. Tell him. Anson knows all about Seaton House and our special abi
lities. This shouldn’t be too overwhelming for him.”

  Maddie moved to the desk and set the vial on top. “This is more of a charm than a potion. I learned how to make such things from the Creoles who worked at my family’s estate in New Orleans. My ability expanded when I lived with the Choctaw Indians. Their medicine man recognized my skills and took me under his wing.”

  “You lived with the Indians?”

  Maddie smiled. “That’s a story for another day. What say you? Are you interested in having me provide remedies for your patients? My charms can cure warts, reduce wrinkles, and even increase fertility. I have amulets that can ward off evil, bring good luck, or encourage romance.”

  Anson coughed. “Let’s stick to the healthful remedies. The townsfolk might not be ready for those other nebulous ones.”

  Moira chuckled. He tried so hard to be accepting of their gifts, even if they baffled the life out of him. “If we agree to this venture, what would you get out of it?”

  “Money. Lily and I want to open our own restaurant in town…when we’re old enough, that is. We’ll provide people with the things they love…food and entertainment, sprinkled with just a touch of magic. We’ll know what they want.”

  Of course, they would. “Anson?”

  He studied Maddie. She held her ground, no fidgeting, no averting of the eyes. A strong girl, that one.

  Anson leaned back in his chair. “This sounds like it could be a promising business endeavor. If Moira is agreeable, we will stock and sell your remedies.”

  “I’m agreeable,” she answered.

  Maddie’s smile blossomed into a full out grin. “Thank you, Dr. Locke. Moira. You won’t regret this. We’ll make lots of money. You’ll see.”

  Anson crossed arms over his chest. “Since we’re supplying the warehouse and doing the selling, we’ll take twenty percent of the price.”

  Maddie mimicked his stance. “Fifteen. And I’ll throw in that hair growth charm for free.”

  Anson wagged his head. He knew when he’d been had. He stood and held out his hand. “It’s a deal.”