Healing Hearts (Proper Romance)

by Sarah M. Eden

She looked over her shoulder toward the empty depot, though she didn’t leave. “I’m a nurse.”

  “I know. That was one of my requirements.” Marrying a woman with medical knowledge and experience had been crucial to the success of this arrangement. He needed someone who would understand the professional demands on his time, especially when it took him away from town, as well as someone who could tend to people who came by in his absence.

  She paced, her fingers fussing with the leather strap wrapped around her notebook. “I came here for a job, and that”—she pointed at the schoolhouse-turned-chapel—“was a wedding.”

  The pieces fell quite suddenly into place. “You didn’t know you were coming as a bride.”

  “I came here for a job,” she repeated.

  He’d been clear in his correspondence with the Western Women’s Bureau. They’d obviously understood the requirement about her education and expertise. They couldn’t possibly have misunderstood that he was looking for a wife. But why would an organization with a reputation to uphold mislead a client so monumentally?

  “Are you certain you didn’t misunderstand?” he asked Miriam.

  “I am not a simpleton.” It was a fiercer response than he’d expected.

  “I didn’t say that you were.”

  Mrs. Wilhite stepped away from the crowd of wedding guests and moved determinedly toward them.

  “What a mess,” Gideon muttered.

  Miriam’s eyes lowered. She hugged her notebook to herself, turning away from everyone.

  Mrs. Wilhite stepped closer to her, worry warring with hope in her wrinkled face. “Gideon really is a wonderful person. We all love him.”

  “But I don’t.”

  This day kept getting better and better. “I appreciate your efforts, Mrs. Wilhite, but I don’t think this is the best way to address this difficulty.”

  “But this wouldn’t be difficult if only she realized how remarkable you are.” Mrs. Wilhite always had been a very vocal supporter of his. “She should consider herself lucky to have been chosen by someone of your caliber.”

  He tossed Miriam an amused glance. He was determined not to let his frustration boil over. She, however, didn’t even crack a smile.

  “He did choose you, after all,” Mrs. Wilhite added with emphasis.

  Miriam shook her head. “I understand that. I do. But I didn’t choose him.”

  “You’re turning him down?” Mrs. Wilhite could not have sounded more shocked.

  “She has every right to,” Gideon said. “No one should be forced to marry another, even if that person is shockingly handsome and disarmingly charming, as I clearly am. I realize it is difficult to believe, Mrs. Wilhite, but even my claims to being ‘wonderful’ might not appeal to every young lady.”

  “But—but this was supposed to be such a happy day for you.” The poor woman looked ready to weep. Meanwhile, Miriam looked ready to run. Again.

  Gideon motioned his anxious advocate aside. “I appreciate your defense of me, I truly do. But if Miss Bricks is set against the idea of marrying me, compelling her to do so will likely only make the situation worse than it already is.”

  “Oh, Gideon.” Mrs. Wilhite clasped his hands with hers. “This is so horrible. We weren’t too sure of your idea to send for a wife, but everything you told us about her and how excited you were—” She sighed. “We want you to be happy.”

  He kissed her wrinkled cheek. “When have you ever known me to be anything but happy?” He had learned from his father the art of appearing as though everything was grand, even when absolutely nothing was.

  Mrs. Wilhite offered a tremulous smile.

  He squeezed her hands. “Go tell the townsfolk to enjoy the cake and punch. There is no point letting it go to waste.”

  “Oh, Gideon.” She looked near to tears. “You poor, poor man.”

  He would likely hear that sentiment from everyone he encountered. Joy.

  “I need to see that Miss Bricks has a place to stay and a way home,” he said.

  “You are a good man.” Her eyes darted toward Miriam, who was pacing in tiny circles nearby. “Perhaps if I told her again—”

  He shook his head firmly. “She has made her wishes clear. Go on back inside. And try not to worry.”

  “We’ll find someone for you,” she promised.

  He waved his hands in protest. “Please, don’t. I would prefer to leave this aspect of my life alone for a long while.”

  She nodded, though reluctantly, and made her way back toward the schoolhouse and the crowd assembled on the front steps, watching Gideon’s humiliation play out. He summoned his best look of amusement, despite not being at all amused, and waved merrily to them. There would be fewer questions and fewer pitying looks if he hid the true extent of his frustration and disappointment.

  He turned back to Miriam and willed himself to see this current predicament through to some kind of conclusion. He was tired. Tired of the unending line of problems he had to address. Tired of women deciding they’d rather not marry him. Tired of returning home to an empty house day after day.

  “The hotel has vacant rooms,” he told her. “You can stay there until the stage comes through on Tuesday.”

  She didn’t look at him. “I was whisked here so quickly, my trunk and traveling bag were left behind.”

  Whisked here. Everyone had been extremely excited. That had made the prospect of marrying a woman he hadn’t met a little less nerve-racking. The bureau had provided him with a lot of information about Miriam. He’d been absolutely convinced they could have been as happy together as any married couple could reasonably expect to be. Happier than his parents, at least, which had been all he’d ever truly hoped for.

  “I will ask after your trunk,” he said.

  “That is the hotel, just there above the restaurant?” She pointed at the building sitting at the corner of the street.

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t wait for further discussion but moved swiftly up the road, nearly at a run. Yet another would-be bride had decided she didn’t want him. Three in a row.

  Gideon let out a frustrated breath. This was not how the day was supposed to have played out. This was not how his life was supposed to have played out.

  Chapter 3

  Gideon lay on his sofa, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what horrible childhood misdeed had earned him the wrath of every vengeful god in existence.

  Harriet Fulton had been the first to reject him, laughing coldly when he had asked for permission to court her. Eleanor Bainbridge had taken the experience to new heights, accepting his offer of marriage after a four-month courtship, only to change her mind mere days before the wedding, leaving him to make what explanation he could to their friends and family.

  There hadn’t been enough jests in the world to laugh his way through that nightmare. He’d had to grit his teeth, seethe, sigh, hurt, and swear he’d never set himself up for that kind of pain again.

  And now Miriam Bricks, who was supposed to have been a perfect fit based on a logical, unemotional evaluation of the situation, had waited until they were actually in the church, in front of everyone, in the middle of the ceremony, to jilt him.

  This was definitely the work of a spiteful deity or two.

  The front door, out of sight of the parlor, squeaked as it opened. He had long ago decided not to oil the hinges, preferring a bit of warning before bleeding and broken patients stumbled inside. This newest arrival, however, sounded neither ill nor injured.

  Gideon knew the rhythm of Cade’s confident stride. Everyone in Savage Wells did.

  “You ain’t dead, are you?” Cade asked. “It was only a jilting from a mail-order bride. It wasn’t as though you were desperately in love with her.”

  “This is not a broken heart, Cade. This is exhaustion.” He laid his arm across his eyes. “I need
a nurse, badly. And I want a wife, because your ugly mug is the only one I see with any regularity, and that is more than any man can be expected to endure.”

  “You ain’t the only one suffering.” Cade’s booted footfalls took him to the nearby chair. “You’re near about the only company I’ll have until the end of next week. Hawk’s got my Paisley knee-deep in some difficulty or another out toward Laramie. I swear that man’s purposely giving her overly long assignments.”

  Gideon appreciated the distraction from his own problems. “Hawk is probably punishing you for not following Paisley’s lead and becoming one of his deputy marshals.”

  Cade humphed. “Hawk can keep right on asking. Won’t do him any good.”

  Gideon lowered his arm, looking over at his friend. “You’re very cross whenever your wife’s away.”

  Cade tossed his hat onto an end table. He gave Gideon a look of clear warning. “If I hear you’ve whispered a word of my grumblings to her, I’ll skin you alive. Slowly.”

  “Women are a great deal of trouble, my friend.”

  “That they are,” Cade said. “What do you mean to do now?”

  Gideon took a long, deep breath. “I’ll go down to the cellar and fetch a bottle of MacNamara whiskey and drown my sorrows.”

  “I ain’t no dull-witted clod, Gid. You’re too responsible a doctor to incapacitate yourself, knowing a patient might arrive needing your help.”

  “I’ll tell them there’s a nurse at the hotel. She can see to them.” There was a fair bit of irony in that. “See how simple I’ve made my life by bringing her here? I can finally rest when I’m ill, travel to other towns without leaving this one helpless, maybe even sleep now and then. It all worked out so perfectly.”

  “I’m sensing a touch of sarcasm, there, Doc.”

  “I’m applying a rather thick layer, Sheriff.” Gideon sighed. “The Western Women’s Bureau looked for six months before finding a nurse willing to come to this backwater. I have my doubts they’ll be able to find another.”

  “I’d wager it wasn’t the town that the women were unsure of.”

  Meaning, of course, it was marrying him that had given any possible candidates pause. “Maybe the bureau could tell them they’re welcome to come and leave me at the altar. That seems to appeal to large swaths of the female population.”

  “You know, Miss Bricks is here already, and you need help. Have you thought about offering her the job she thought she was coming here for?”

  “Are you cracked?” Gideon sat up enough to look over at Cade. “I can hardly think of a more awkward situation.”

  “You lying here crying about how tired you are ain’t exactly comfortable,” Cade muttered.

  “Truth be told, I can’t afford to pay her.” Gideon wasn’t about to be sidetracked. “A wife would have benefited from the income of the practice and the comforts it provided here in our home. That’s far different than finding the money for a regular salary.” He dropped onto his back again, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’d have to pay her enough for room and board. She certainly couldn’t live here—not after today’s disaster.”

  “It was a daft idea to begin with.” Years of soldiering and sheriffing had all but drained Cade’s well of empathy. “No matter how many details the bureau sent you, you’d still have been marrying a stranger.”

  “But so would she. We’d both have come into this expecting the same thing. There would have been no emotional complications, no heavy history to overcome.” He shook his head. “It should have worked perfectly.”

  “‘Should have’ don’t matter, friend. All you have is ‘did,’ and what your plan did was fail.”

  Gideon rolled himself off the sofa. As cathartic as the admittedly dramatic posture had been, he really didn’t have time for theatrics. In deference to his wedding day, the town had solemnly promised not to suffer any illnesses or injuries, but he wasn’t foolish enough to actually expect any such reprieve. It hadn’t been a great day for making vows, after all.

  “I suppose I’d better prepare for the inevitable flood of patients.” He loved his job, but he wasn’t feeling particularly fond of it in that moment.

  Cade raised a single golden eyebrow, eyeing Gideon with annoyance. “Even if all you can give Miss Bricks is enough for room and board, it might suffice for now. What other choices does she have?”

  There was some logic to his argument. And who wouldn’t want to spend every day with a woman who had taken one look at him and promptly run away?

  It would likely be deeply unpleasant. But what was a little discomfort if it helped the town? Truth be told, it would help half the territory. That was why he became a doctor: to help.

  “Do you think she’d consider it?” he wondered out loud.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Think, Miriam. Think. She’d worked her way out of stickier situations than this; surely she could sort this one out as well.

  She paced the floor of the hotel room she was temporarily calling home. There had to be another doctor looking for a nurse. One who lived somewhere remote and relatively far from civilization and who was desperate enough to accept her first three years of employment history without batting an eye at the two-year gap that followed it. One who cared only that she could suture a wound and find a heartbeat. It would also be helpful if that doctor didn’t expect her to marry him.

  She sat on the bed, exhausted and overwhelmed. Finding employment was crucial; she hadn’t money enough for a full week’s lodgings.

  Women in her situation, but without her knowledge and education, had few choices, none of which were pleasant. They would either be forced to marry whomever would take them, or earn their keep in the only profession available to unprotected and unskilled women. Miriam could find respectable work. In theory, at least.

  Maybe Dr. MacNamara knew someone else in need of an employee. But how did one go about starting such a conversation?

  “I don’t want to marry you, but would you please help me find a job?”

  She let her shoulders droop. This mess was not at all her fault, yet she was paying for it. All she’d wanted was the tiniest taste of freedom.

  “The barest bit of it,” she whispered to the empty room. “No more bars on windows. No locked doors. No hallways echoing with sobs and screams.” She took a shuddering breath. “I just want to live again.”

  A knock at her door stopped Miriam mid-thought. Who would possibly be looking in on her? She didn’t know anyone in town. And she’d taken such pains to cover her tracks. Surely she couldn’t have been found so quickly.

  She tucked her sketchbook in a bureau drawer. It wasn’t particularly well hidden, but it wouldn’t be immediately found.

  Heart pounding, she opened the door an inch, peeking through the small opening. Dr. MacNamara stood on the other side. His unexpected but well-timed arrival could either be a good sign or a terrible omen.

  “Miss Bricks.” He gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

  “I haven’t changed my mind,” she warned.

  “I have given up on matrimony, I assure you.” He sounded entirely sincere. “I wish only to talk with you for a minute or two.”

  Seeing as she needed to talk with him as well, letting him in was more than reasonable. Why, then, was she so nervous? She had certainly faced more daunting situations.

  She opened the door the rest of the way and motioned him inside. Life had taught her not to be too trusting, so she left it ajar.

  “This is going to be uncomfortable,” he said, turning to face her. “I want to establish that from the beginning so we can proceed with the same expectations.” He stood with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, his shoulders hunched. “I need a nurse. Badly. And even with everything that happened this afternoon, I am hoping to convince you to stay.”

  S
tay? Work here as she’d originally planned? That couldn’t possibly be what he was suggesting. It seemed best to make certain she fully understood what he was asking, especially in light of the enormity of their earlier miscommunication. “You promised this wasn’t a marriage proposal.”

  He held his hands up in a show of innocence. “It’s not. I am offering you a job.”

  It seemed far too good to be true, and far too many people had lied to her over the past years.

  “I need help.” He pushed out a breath. “The town is growing, and with it, the number of patients I tend to. They also come in from surrounding towns, and I often travel to see those living in the far corners of the territory. I am only one person, and I am quickly reaching the limit of what I can do. I was hoping for a wife, but I need a nurse more.”

  She was never this lucky. “You’re offering me the job I came here for originally?”

  “More or less. But I can’t pay you well, only enough for room and board. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that at least part of your salary will likely be paid in eggs and fruit preserves, since that is how my patients generally pay me.”

  Work for a man who’d fully intended to marry her sight unseen? There had to be an angle in this, something more he was aiming at. Else, why would he be willing to subject himself daily to the very discomfort they were both feeling?

  “I would simply work as a nurse? That’s it? Nothing else?”

  “I assure you, that is all.” He sounded just annoyed enough at the idea that she found herself believing him.

  He was offering her a job, which she needed desperately. She could work for him, earn enough to see to her basic needs. She would be living a safe distance from Blackburn Asylum in a town few had ever heard of, let alone would think to search. Her stomach flipped a little. It was exactly what she needed, what she thought she’d come here for in the first place.

  “I—I accept.”

  “Well, then. It is all settled.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “I will see you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”