The Love Comes Softly Collection

by Janette Oke

  “Well, I’m not hesitant to talk,” the woman said. “What would you like to know?”

  Belinda smiled. “Whatever you would like to tell,” she responded.

  “I’m a widow,” she began.

  “Windsor did tell me that,” said Belinda.

  “What else?”

  “Thet yer husband had been a noted lawyer. Thet he died quite young with a heart attack. Thet ya lost both of yer children.”

  “My,” said Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. “How did you evah coax all of that from him?”

  “He was a mite reluctant,” smiled Belinda. “But he did like my tea.” They laughed comfortably together.

  “Mr. Stafford-Smyth was only thirty-nine when he had his heart attack,” the woman went on thoughtfully. “So young and with so much promise.” She thought for a few minutes and then hurried on. “We lost our Cynthia when she was only two. It was whooping cough that took her. My husband was still with me then, so I had someone to share my sorrow, but when I lost our son, Martin . . . I had to bear it all alone.”

  “I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” said Belinda.

  “Martin was only thirty-two when he died. He had been to Europe several times with me. He liked it much bettah than Boston, I’m afraid. Then he fell in love with a French girl and they were married. He brought her home to Boston, but she nevah really did care for it, so they were back and forth—back and forth. Finally they bought a new home in Boston and tried to settle down. They had two sons, but they still both loved to travel, so the boys were raised more by nannies than by their parents. I guess there’s no harm in that—if one has good nannies. Just because one is a parent doesn’t mean that one knows about children.”

  Belinda found herself wanting to argue the issue, but she kept silent.

  “Anyway,” Mrs. Stafford-Smyth went on, “on one of their trips abroad there was an accident. They were both killed. They were buried in France. Of course I went over for the funeral. I was devastated. Martin was all I had left. Except for the boys. I brought them to my house and we raised them—my staff and I—with the help of their nannies, of course. They are both grown men now—and I don’t see them much. Right now they are in France visiting their family on their mothah’s side. Some days I feah I have lost them, too.”

  She paused, and Belinda was afraid the woman might start to weep, but instead she shifted herself on the pillows and lifted her chin.

  “So I travel,” she said. “Just as much as I can. ‘Gadding,’ Windsah calls it, and he doesn’t approve of it much. Usually I take my nurse with me, but this trip—well, we already had our plans made, our tickets purchased when she took sick. Gall bladder. She had to have surgery. Well, one can hardly travel after surgery, can one? Windsah and I had quite a fuss ovah it. He said I should cancel my plans and stay at home. I said I was old enough to care for myself.” She smiled. “So I went.”

  There was a pause. “Evah been to San Francisco?”

  Belinda shook her head.

  “Well, I have. All the way from Boston to San Francisco. Just to see what it was like.” She smiled again, then sobered. “My, what a long, long dusty trip. And the trains! Some of them are so dirty and appalling and nevah on time.” She shook her head again at the thought of it. “But don’t evah tell Windsah I said so,” she hastened to add. “He already thinks he’s been proven right.”

  Belinda smiled. She did enjoy getting to know Mrs. Stafford-Smyth but didn’t like the thought of this fascinating lady leaving them when she was recovered and would be able to travel home. However, she was a long ways from total recovery yet.

  “I think ya should rest a bit now,” Belinda cautioned, and without fuss the woman allowed herself to be tucked in and the drapes pulled to shut the sunlight from the room.

  Fourteen

  A Busy Summer

  “You’ve been so busy I’ve scarcely seen ya,” Rand commented, sounding rather disappointed, and Belinda had to admit he was right.

  “You’ve been pretty busy yerself,” she reminded him.

  “I’m hopin’ things will slow down some fer me now,” he said gently. “Now thet I have the house fer the grocer done, seems I should catch my breath and look to other things as well as buildin’.”

  Belinda wasn’t sure what “other things” Rand was referring to. Perhaps he meant that he didn’t want to build every waking minute, she decided.

  “How’s yer special patient?” he asked her.

  “Oh, she’s doing much better. Luke feels thet she should get completely well. Well, almost completely—she may always have a bit of trouble with her left side. But it’s jest a matter of time now.”

  “Time?” said Rand with a trace of complaint in his voice. Then he softened and added slowly. “Seems to me such a long time already.”

  “I suppose it seems thet way to Mrs. Stafford-Smyth, too,” Belinda responded.

  “Yeah,” agreed Rand with a sigh. “I reckon it does.”

  They walked in silence. Belinda was enjoying the warm summer evening. She didn’t get out nearly as often as she’d like, and Marty had commented on her paleness the last time she went out to the farm.

  “So ya think ya’ll be needed fer some time?” Rand was asking.

  “Oh, she’s not nearly well enough to travel yet. Especially alone.”

  “Couldn’t thet there butler fella come an’ get her?” Rand suggested.

  “Thet would be awkward. She still needs help with dressing and all.”

  “What about her old nurse? The one ya said had her gall bladder out?”

  “We haven’t heard from her for some time,” explained Belinda, since one of her tasks was to assist Mrs. Stafford-Smyth with her mail.

  Belinda wondered why Rand had so many questions about her patient, but before she could inquire, he had switched the topic entirely.

  “Hear there’s a church picnic on Saturday. Sure would like to take ya iffen yer free to go.”

  Belinda thought for only a moment. “I’d love to go!” she responded enthusiastically. “It’s a long time since I’ve done anything like thet. I’ll see if I can work out the schedule with Flo.”

  For the first time this evening, Rand gave her a full smile. She noticed again his deep dimple. She had been missing Rand’s company, she realized, surprised at the discovery.

  “You’ve already finished yer second house?” Belinda commented to keep the conversation going.

  “Jest this week,” said Rand.

  “I didn’t even get to see it,” Belinda lamented.

  “Ya haven’t been seeing much of its builder lately, either,” Rand said with a wry grin. “I was about to hit my thumb with my hammer or fall off a ladder or some such thing jest so thet I might git to see the town nurse.”

  Belinda blushed but brushed his teasing aside. “I haven’t even been seein’ my own ma and pa for jest ages,” she confessed.

  “Well, we’ll take care of thet on Saturday,” promised Rand.

  And Belinda smiled. She really looked forward to the day off.

  Belinda was able to arrange for Saturday off, and she left with Mrs. Stafford-Smyth’s orders to “have fun as young girls were meant to do,” and prepared for Rand’s coming with extra care.

  Such a long time since I’ve been on an outing, she exulted as she bathed and groomed her hair.

  Lighthearted, she chose her favorite dress, a full-skirted soft blue gingham with lots of bows and flouncy frills. It kind of matches my feelings, she decided as she held it up to herself in front of her bedroom mirror.

  She was ready with time to spare, so she spent the extra moments playing with Ruthie. She had missed having time with her little niece.

  They were busy with a game of peekaboo when a male voice interrupted them. “Now, if that doesn’t make some picture,” he said.

  Belinda swung quickly around. She had not heard anyone knock on the front door.

  But it was in the entrance to Luke’s office that the male figure stood. Belinda’s eyes trave
led upward over sharply pressed suit pants, white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and broad young shoulders. Then she looked at his face and a little gasp escaped her lips. “Jackson! I didn’t know ya were here yet.” Luke had told her that Jackson was planning to join the practice, but she didn’t realize it would be this soon. She could not remember his being so tall—so good-looking. She flushed in embarrassment and turned her eyes back to Ruthie.

  “My niece,” she said, disentangling Ruthie’s small fist from her bodice frills as Jackson moved into the room.

  “I’ve already met the little charmer,” said Jackson evenly. “It’s her aunt who has eluded me.”

  “I . . . I hadn’t even heard ya were . . . were back,” Belinda repeated defensively.

  He crossed to sit down on the sofa beside her. “Actually,” he said, “I just arrived on Thursday, and I spent a few days with my mother. Then Luke said I should pop in and take inventory of his office supplies to see if I have any ideas on what we might add.”

  “Luke will be so glad to have ya here,” said Belinda. “He’s been worked near off his feet.”

  “I heard that it’s his nurse who puts in long hours.”

  Jackson seemed to be studying Belinda’s face, and she found herself flushing again.

  “Not . . . not really,” she stammered. “I’m taking the whole day off today.”

  “You are?” said Jackson. “Splendid! The inventory can wait until another day. Mother said there’s a picnic out at the church. I’d love to go and see how many of our old friends are still around.”

  “That’s a great idea,” put in Belinda. “Folks would all love to see ya.”

  “Then let’s go,” he prompted and stood, offering a hand to help Belinda to her feet.

  “Well . . . I . . . I . . . I can’t,” she stammered, not accepting the hand.

  “You can’t go? But I thought you said—”

  “I . . . I did. I mean . . . I . . . I am going but I . . . I already—”

  A knock on the door saved her from explaining further. Belinda lifted small Ruthie into her arms and went to answer it. She felt quite sure that she knew who was there, but she wasn’t sure he had come at the best of times.

  When Belinda opened the door, Rand stepped inside without comment. But he whistled softly as he stood studying her in the blue gingham dress. Belinda couldn’t help but note when she dressed that it emphasized her wide blue eyes, fair skin, and cheeks just touched with pink.

  “My feelings exactly,” said another voice, and Rand lifted his eyes from Belinda to the tall, well-dressed young stranger.

  Belinda’s cheeks turned even pinker as she looked from one to the other. “Rand,” she said, “this . . . this is Dr. Jackson Brown. Jackson, please meet Rand O’Connel.”

  For a moment Rand stood in silence, seeming to measure the man before him. Then he stepped forward, offered his hand, and said, “Welcome to town, Doctor. You might not know it, but seems I’ve been waitin’ on ya fer a long, long time.”

  Jackson obviously did not understand the implication of the words, but he took the offered hand and shook it firmly.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” said Belinda, “I’ll give Ruthie back to her mama and grab my shawl.”

  It was then Jackson must have realized what was happening. His eyes clouded for a moment and then he straightened his shoulders. He must have been deeply disappointed, but neither was he a man to give up easily.

  “And if you’ll excuse me,” he said to Rand, “I have some inventory to care for. Nice meeting you, Mr. O’Connel,” and he turned back to the office.

  “And nice to meet you, Doctor,” put in Rand just before Jackson closed the door.

  The picnic outing did not go as well as Belinda had hoped. It was obvious to her that the relationships in her family had not healed. She had prayed that over the months things would return to normal. She could see at a glance that they had not. For the first time in her life, she thought that her mother looked old. There was a weariness about Marty that surprised Belinda. Her mama shouldn’t have changed that much in only a few months’ time.

  Then Belinda saw young Abe, and she could see further deterioration in his arm. Abe hardly used his left hand at all, and Belinda knew that Luke’s worst fears were being realized.

  As she gazed around at the laughing, chattering picnickers, she realized that most of the girls her age were already married or being courted. That left very few of her old friends with whom to sit and chat. And just seeing her old classmates made her miss Amy Jo and Melissa even more.

  The quiet ride home probably was not what Rand had planned it would be. But he must have sensed that Belinda was troubled about something.

  “Ya seem bothered,” he finally broke the silence.

  Belinda responded with a sigh.

  “I’m sorry to be such sour company,” she responded. “It’s nothing, really. Least not any one thing. Just a lot of little things all pressin’ in together.”

  “Care to talk about ’em?” asked Rand. “All these ‘little things’?”

  Belinda smiled in appreciation. “Thanks,” she said, “but I think not. Not right now, anyway. I haven’t sorted through ’em myself yet.”

  Rand nodded in understanding and drove on without further comment.

  They were almost home when he startled her with a question. “This here new doctor—Dr. Brown? Ya knew ’im before?”

  “We . . . we went to school together,” she answered. “His ma was my teacher. She still teaches at our school. Been there for several years now.”

  Rand’s eyes narrowed. “An’ he’ll be workin’ with ya now?”

  “He’s to be Luke’s associate,” she answered simply.

  “How do you feel about thet?” asked Rand.

  Belinda frowned slightly. She really wasn’t sure, but she answered as truthfully as she could. “Luke has been countin’ on it fer some time. He will have more time with his family now. Thet’s what he’s wanted fer such a long time.”

  “An’ you?” asked Rand.

  “I . . . I guess maybe I’ll have more time, too,” Belinda stammered.

  Rand smiled, his expression saying That’s what I have wanted . . . for a long time, too.

  He drove for a moment in silence.

  “This here doctor . . . he’s not married?”

  “No-o,” answered Belinda.

  “Got ’im a girl?”

  “I . . . I wouldn’t know. We haven’t been in touch fer . . . fer some time.”

  Belinda took a quick glance at Rand, and his face seemed rather stiff. She felt very uncomfortable, and she was relieved to see the doctor’s residence just ahead.

  Fifteen

  Confusion

  “And how are ya feelin’ this mornin’?” Belinda asked Mrs. Stafford-Smyth upon entering her room.

  “Oh, it’s good to see you!” exclaimed the elderly lady with feeling. “I’ve missed you all weekend.”

  “Problems?” questioned Belinda with a frown. She did hope nothing had gone wrong while she had been away.

  The woman shook her head and waved a pale hand feebly in the air. “No, nothing . . . nothing specific,” she admitted. “Flo does her best and so does that deah Mrs. What’s-her-name, but it just isn’t the same as when you are heah. They never seem to know . . .”

  She went on and Belinda let her talk, much relieved to know that there really was nothing seriously wrong with the woman.

  Belinda busied herself checking her patient’s temperature and pulse as Mrs. Stafford-Smyth poured out her woes. Without comment about the complaints, Belinda fluffed up the pillows, politely asking, “Would ya like to sit up in a chair fer a few minutes?”

  “Oh my, yes,” responded the woman. “I am so sick, sick, sick of this bed.” Then she hurried on. “You see, that’s exactly what I mean. Those . . . those other two. They nevah think of things like that. They just do the ‘necessaries.’ It’s as though they don’t want to bothah . . . just want to get th
e day ovah with.”

  “I’m sure they don’t feel thet way,” Belinda assured the elderly lady. “It’s jest thet they haven’t had much experience in bedside nursing care. Mrs. Mills has nursed neighbors fer years, but most of her time has been helpin’ mothers an’ newborn babies. Flo is just being trained in nursin’. Luke wants to have a second nurse available so thet one doctor an’ one of the nurses might get some time off now and then. He is even talkin’ of trainin’ a third girl to help jest so she’ll have some knowledge if he ever needs to call on someone. Mrs. Mills is gettin’ older an’ won’t want to nurse much longer.”

  “Well, I think it’s a splendid idea to train others. Believe me, I do,” insisted Mrs. Stafford-Smyth. “But you must admit that some folks are fah more adept at sensing needs than othah people are. You are one of those few, Belinda. You seem to feel for the patient—to understand the hardness of the bed and the misery of lying day aftah day on one’s back.”

  She hurried on. “I know you need time off. No one can work day and night. But I do hate the days or nights when you are not heah. Things just always go so much—”

  “And how is our patient this morning?” a man’s voice asked along with a rap on the door for their attention.

  Belinda recognized Jackson’s voice before she turned around to invite the tall young man to enter. Mrs. Stafford-Smyth’s face showed her surprise, and her eyes were filled with questions.

  “Mrs. Stafford-Smyth,” said Belinda without really looking directly at Jackson, “this is Dr. Brown, Dr. Luke’s new associate. Dr. Brown, Mrs. Stafford-Smyth of Boston.”

  Jackson crossed to the bedside and took one of the lady’s weak hands in his, smiling at her warmly. And though the patient was not aware of it, Belinda watched his trained eyes already picking up much information about her physical condition.

  “And how are you feeling this morning?” he asked her sincerely.

  She didn’t answer his question. Instead, Belinda could tell she was studying him, her eyes—as sharp in their own way as his—assessing everything about him.