Samantha's Secret (A More Perfect Union Series Book 3)

by Betty Bolte

  "I applaud your intent. We need to better understand the causes of so many ailments. Medicine is still more mystery than not." Frank moved past and paused at a window overlooking the alley. He stood motionless for a few moments and then turned back to Trent. "Have you spoken to Miss Samantha about that slave woman?"

  "Not yet, but I expect to see her ere long." Trent looked at his father. "Based on the symptoms, Father, have you discovered a possible cause or at least a cure we missed? In order to prevent another similar tragedy, I'd like to know what happened."

  "As Frank said, we have much to learn about what makes people sick and die." Robert grimaced and slowly rotated his head side to side. "It's a shame, but from what you've shared, nobody could have saved the poor thing."

  "So Samantha couldn't have hoped to save her. That is good news." Frank strode back to stand in front of Trent. "The news will be quite a relief. Emily told me Samantha collapsed in her distress."

  "I'm sorry to hear that." Trent frowned as the vision of Samantha crying over her parents' defection rose yet again to his mind. In the event, despite her grief, she'd soon composed herself. To think his strong, courageous woman had buckled under the pressures of losing a patient. Surely she understood not every patient could be saved. It was good to commiserate with clients, to fathom their emotions and reactions, but not to fall apart when one died. The accusing words he'd uttered upon his arrival at the slave quarters echoed in his mind, berating him for assuming the worst of Samantha. She couldn't have saved Lydia; no one could. Yet he'd not given her the benefit of the doubt, merely sent her away. He needed to make amends. "I will speak with her. Come, the day is wasting."

  They descended back to the first floor. Ideas and plans spun in Trent's mind. First order of business included making a list of repairs and replacements needed. Locks, hinges, even some floor planks required attention. New doors would need to be made and hung. The whole place cried out for a good scrubbing, too. The windows barely let any light through, what with the dirt clinging to the outside of them. Where would he find the men to do the work? Perhaps Frank might know, or Father.

  "You have enough subscribers to afford this place?" Robert surveyed the spacious room on the first floor with his jaw slackened. "The building is much larger than I thought."

  "Nearly have adequate numbers of interested businessmen." Trent's financial status worried him, truth be told. How could he fund all of his desired properties? Perhaps he should not have dipped into his funds prior to investigating the current location. But he considered his acquisition an investment in his future. If everything worked out the way he hoped, the latest addition to his growing list of properties would be put to very good use. Still, possibly he should have delayed the unexpected expenditure. He eyed his father. "Would you know of any one else I might ask?"

  "I may. Let me think on it." Robert strolled across to open the door and went inside the apartment. Trent and Frank trailed after him, exchanging questioning looks as they moved through the door.

  The apartment included two rooms, a spare kitchen and an equally barren bedroom, neither graced with furniture or furnishings of any kind. The walls had no decoration except for the requisite wood chair rail. Above the fireplace, a simple mantel with carved scrolls attached to the wall. From the entrance, Trent could see through the open door connecting the two rooms that each had two windows overlooking King. They sauntered across the first room to peek into the bedroom and then turned back to the larger common room. The end setup for the kitchen consisted of a small fireplace with one metal hook along the wall shared by the bedroom. Living in the bleak apartment would prove a grim existence indeed.

  "This would suit my purposes." Robert paced through the rooms, pausing frequently to eye a loose board or inspect a stain. He muttered to himself as he drifted from one area to another.

  What purpose did his father have in mind? Trent sifted through their previous discussions, searching for hints but nothing surfaced. "What do you mean, Father?"

  "A minute." Robert inspected every corner of the quarters, before halting in front of Trent. "If you'll allow me, I would be interested in contributing the difference in what you require in exchange for these quarters for my practice as well as access to the surgery."

  Had he heard him aright? Trent gaped at Robert before grinning and pumping his hand. The last barrier overcome, he could proceed to make his hospital a reality. Joy and immense satisfaction filled his chest with pride. His plans for his professional future were falling into place in such a way as to make hope for his personal future swell in his heart. If only the foundation he'd laid for the intimate side of his prospects worked out as desired, then he'd feel confident of his ultimate success in both arenas. The next step would begin the process. "Thank you, Father. I shall inform George forthwith."

  * * *

  Samantha stayed in bed late, unwilling to face yet another disastrous day. If only she could snuggle under the quilt instead of emerging from the warmth and comfort and safety of her bedroom. The call of a mourning dove filtered into the stillness surrounding her, a lonesome, haunting sound in the comfortably furnished room. A knock at the door made her throw the covers over her head, hoping whoever was there would leave her alone.

  "Samantha? Are you awake?"

  "No." Go away. I don't want to get out of bed.

  A soft chuckle came from the other side of the closed door. "Are you talking in your sleep, then?"

  Samantha grinned as she stared at the door, immediately recognizing the voice. The day might be worth facing after all. "Yes."

  "I'm coming in to witness this phenomenon for myself."

  The door opened to admit Evelyn, dressed in a charcoal gray dress. Her mourning garb. Was it sacrilege to wish she did not grieve for her husband?

  "What brings you here?" Samantha sat up, pushed the quilt to one side, and swung her feet to the floor.

  "Emily told Amy how upset you've been, and I thought you could use a friend."

  Samantha sighed and shook her head, rising to stand facing Evelyn. "I'd rather talk to my new sister, if that's okay with her."

  Evelyn hugged Samantha, a tentative yet comforting embrace. Surprised at the unexpected sign of affection, Samantha hesitated a moment before returning the hug. Evelyn stepped back to peruse Samantha's face. "I like that idea, too. I'll put on some tea while you dress."

  "Do you know where everything is?" Samantha asked.

  "No, but I'm sure Emily's girl can help me put things together. Now hurry up so we don't get interrupted."

  "I'll be down in a few minutes."

  Samantha rushed through her morning routine, inwardly grimacing at the late hour, and then slipped on a cornflower blue dress with purple stripes radiating from the waist to the hem. Grabbing a pair of hair combs, she swept her thick curls up to the crown of her head and let the ends dangle down her back. She looked in the mirror one last time before straightening her shoulders and walking out the door.

  Evelyn met her in the downstairs hall, Jasmine behind her with a tray. "Come, we'll sit in the parlor and indulge in some quiet conversation."

  After they settled in their chosen seats, and Evelyn poured tea for them both, Samantha found she couldn't relax. She needed to do something, something that succeeded, but for the first time in her life she doubted her ability nearly as much as Trent. She half-heartedly engaged in some feminine gossip and other chit chat, all the while stewing on questions regarding her future.

  "What will you do now?" Evelyn held her porcelain cup gracefully as she studied Samantha, waiting for a response.

  Was Evelyn reading her mind? "I'm not sure what I can do. I've lost everything over the past several weeks." Samantha sipped her tea, delaying the need to speak further about her plans.

  "Amy asked me to tell you she's waiting for you to come see Benjamin, to help him." Evelyn peered at Samantha over the flowered cup she held poised before her mouth. "I know walking away from the responsibility is tempting. But you're not th
at kind of woman. You mustn't give up trying, or you'll never forgive yourself."

  "You have a point." She stared at Evelyn for the span of four slow breaths. She was a fighter, not a person who quit when the job became difficult. She placed her cup and saucer on the table, flowed to her feet, and then paced the oriental carpet, thinking about what her move should be. Then inspiration struck. Little Running Bear's remedy may be the answer they sought. "Will you help me?"

  Evelyn nodded, mischief lighting in her eyes. "What do I need to do?"

  "Go to the market and buy ten ears of corn and then meet me at Benjamin's."

  "Corn?" Evelyn gaped at her. "What for?"

  Samantha grinned. "You'll see. Now hurry. We're wasting daylight. I'll meet you there."

  An hour later, Samantha swept into the common room of Benjamin's quarters. Amy greeted her with surprise and delight.

  "How is he?" Samantha removed her cloak and draped it over a chair. "Any change?"

  Amy shook her head. "Please tell me you have struck upon a course to help him."

  Samantha grimaced. "I hope so. I'll need your help, though. Are you up for it?"

  "Of course. What do I need to do?"

  "You'll think I'm crazy." Samantha slipped her gloves off and laid them with her cloak. She met Amy's curious gaze. "Find a pot big enough to boil ten ears of corn and get the water boiling. Evelyn will be here any minute."

  "Corn?"

  Samantha grinned. "That's what Evelyn said as well. Please, hurry. While you do that, I'll put the rest of my plan in place."

  Amy pivoted, her long skirts belling around her slim figure, and scurried to do as asked. Samantha slipped into the bedroom, careful to not disturb Benjamin. He appeared asleep, yet his pallor and damp shirt spoke volumes about his condition. She searched the room, locating a stack of blankets on a shelf. Pulling them down, she placed them near her patient. A pang of guilt swept through her when she realized she'd not consulted Trent as promised, but she simply couldn't bear to see censure or disappointment in his gaze again. She heard the outside door open and close and hoped it was Evelyn arriving and not Trent. She needed time to make this last attempt to redeem herself.

  Before long, Amy poked her head into the room. "Evelyn is here with the corn. Do you want me to husk it first?"

  Samantha grinned at her. "There's no need. Just boil them in their wrapping until they're hot. Then bring them in here."

  Amy spun around and moved out of view toward the fireplace. Samantha unfolded each blanket and carefully covered Benjamin, until he lay under five warm layers. What else had the medicine man done? She snapped her fingers. She crossed to the windows and closed them. Keeping all the warmth inside aided the process. With any luck, Benjamin's fever would be over very soon.

  Scuffling drew her attention to the door. Amy and Evelyn carried a large wooden bowl between them, the ears of corn steaming. Please let this work.

  "Bring them here." Samantha indicated the table beside the bed. Using a fold of her skirt, she grabbed each ear of corn and placed them under the blankets so they surrounded Benjamin.

  "What are you doing?" Amy's surprise made her voice squeak.

  "The Cherokee use corn or rocks to sweat a person with a fever." Samantha tucked the edge of the blanket pile under the ears of corn to be sure the steam heated Benjamin's body. "Now we wait for the corn to cool and his body right along with it."

  "How does that work?" Evelyn asked. She stood near at hand, within easy distance to assist if necessary. "I don't understand."

  Samantha shrugged. "Little Running Bear used this technique many times while I was staying with him. He never explained how it works, but it certainly does."

  "I hope you have success." Amy stood at the head of the bed, lightly caressing Benjamin's good shoulder. She sniffled and glanced at Samantha. "I want to see him laugh and smile and tease me again."

  "He will, my friend." Samantha studied Benjamin. "This will work."

  An hour later, the corn was cool but Benjamin was not. What had she done wrong? Perhaps she should have used stones instead, but the corn was available, more so than rocks. She'd do it again and hope the next time would work.

  "Gather up the corn and let's reheat them." Samantha plucked two ears from under the blankets and dropped them into the waiting bowl. Amy and Evelyn followed suit, and Amy carried them all back to the boiling pot.

  Samantha laid a hand on Benjamin's brow, feeling the heat on her skin. "I'll make all this up to you, Benjamin. I will."

  "Of course, you will." Evelyn moved to stand at her side, looking down on the unconscious man. "Do not let a few setbacks devastate your confidence. I've seen you in action, remember?"

  "Thanks for the kind words." Samantha glanced out the window while she thought about Evelyn's sentiment and waited for Amy to return with the corn. After what seemed an eternity, Amy called to Evelyn to help her.

  Again, they placed the ears under the blankets, tucking in the edges, and then stepped back to wait. Samantha thought about sitting down, but didn't want to relinquish oversight of the sweat to Amy and Evelyn. She swayed on her feet, reaching out to brace herself against the wall.

  "What's wrong?" Amy wrapped an arm around Samantha's waist. "You need to sit down."

  "No, I must tend to Benjamin." Samantha's head was spinning, starting to ache, and her limbs trembled even though she was not cold.

  "Are you sick?" Evelyn moved to help Amy guide Samantha to a chair. "When did you eat last?"

  Samantha weakly shook her head. "I... I don't know." The hard wood supporting her as she sat down made her legs stop feeling like earthworms trying to keep her standing. "Yesterday, maybe?"

  Amy frowned and peered closer. "You need to go home, eat, and then get some rest. You're exhausted, and no good to any of your patients in such a condition."

  "I'll walk with her back to the Sullivans' house." Evelyn said. "Do you wish for me to return once I see her home, Amy?"

  Amy shook her head. "I'll cover things here. If anything happens, good or bad, believe me I'll send for you."

  "Let me know of any change, Amy, and I'll come back." Samantha peered at her friend, wishing the room would hold still and the dark spots before her eyes would go away. Yet again she'd attempted to provide aid and comfort, and her efforts failed to produce the desired result. Maybe some rest would do her good. With Evelyn's help, she gained her feet, lurching to and fro as she tried to keep her balance while they walked toward the door. "If this doesn't work, then I'll have at least a partial answer to the question of my future."

  Chapter 12

  The next afternoon, Trent lifted the knocker on the Sullivans' front door and let it fall with a resounding thud. He'd considered coming to visit Samantha the day before, but he'd elected instead to put the wheels in motion for the purchase of the building. He'd considered his next steps with utmost care, thinking through every angle and nuance. The process had taken time, but time well spent. Besides, he had to determine what to say to restore her faith in herself. Since his longtime aim neared success, he realized he didn't want to miss the chance to continue to work with her. But if she stopped believing in her abilities because of a misunderstanding, then he'd never convince her to accept his offer. He'd used the time to compose his thoughts, all the while longing to see her, be with her, and maybe steal another kiss or two. He smiled, recalling the last buss they shared. Maybe working together would lead to a more permanent arrangement. With his professional path determined, he could begin to seek the appropriate woman to be his wife and helpmate. After a few moments, Samantha opened the door with a slight frown marring her pretty face and then started closing the heavy door when she spied him. Her surprise equaled his, as he'd expected Jasmine to answer his knock.

  "Hold, Miss Samantha." He stepped forward to block the swing of the door and then removed his tricorne and held it in nervous hands. He'd practiced his speech for the past several hours, but the words suddenly seemed trite and stilted. Unworthy for the ef
fort to share them with her. Yet he'd walked over to do that very thing. "Will you permit me to speak with you?"

  "Have you come to belittle my abilities again?" She clung to the door, blocking his entrance. "If so, you have wasted your time as I have no patience for more abuse."

  She appeared drawn and pale, her face ashen against her coal black locks. Even her lips had lost some of their rosy color. An erratic pulse beat at her throat, from dread or excitement? Maybe she felt something for him after all. Her eyes narrowed as he stood studying her, and he cleared his throat to give himself time to summon his courage to begin the conversation.

  "Trent, I do not have time to stand here with the door open to the chill while you gape at me." Samantha made to close the door. "Good day."

  He blocked the door with one hand. "Wait. I beg your indulgence. May I come in off the street?"

  On a sigh, she stepped aside. "Very well, but know I am not afraid to physically remove you from these premises if your behavior warrants."

  The image of her carrying him through the door made him smile. It might be well worthwhile to aggravate her enough to have her make the attempt. Another day, though. "I shall do all in my power to avoid the necessity."

  She closed the door behind him. "I cannot understand why you should venture here today."

  "I promise to only take a short amount of time." He fingered the soft brim of his hat. "I have an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you."

  "We've just sat down to tea. Would you care for a cup?"

  "I'd enjoy some to take the cold from my bones. Thank you."

  She led him into the front parlor with its wall of books and a softly blazing fire to welcome him. Emily rested on a chair to the right of the fireplace. A silver tea service sat on the low table situated between the matching chairs and settee, a plate of biscuits and a bowl of what appeared to be apricot preserves nearby.