The Bitter and the Sweet (Kansas Crossroads Book 9)

by Amelia C. Adams

“I was surprised myself. There I was, just stepping off the train, and he called out to me and offered a ride.”

  Felicity studied her over the rim of her cup. “And that was awkward for you.”

  “I can’t even describe it.” Sarah picked up a cookie and turned it over and over in her hands. “My biggest fear in coming back here was running into any member of the Howard family, and that’s the first thing that happened as soon as the train pulled in. Maybe I should look on it as a blessing—from here on out, it can only get better, right?”

  Felicity chuckled. “Right.”

  “Tell me about Aunt Clasby. Her doctor’s letter didn’t give many details.”

  “There aren’t many details to give, unfortunately. We’re still not sure what’s going on.” Felicity took a sip and then set her cup back on the saucer. “While I was down with Charity, Mother did everything—she saw to the boys’ baths, prepared the meals, did the washing. John arranged for a girl to come in and help out twice a week, but Mother did the bulk of the work. Once I was up and around again, our roles reversed—she fell ill, and I was the caretaker. Her doctor thinks she’s just exhausted, but it’s been a few weeks now, and it seems as though she ought to be doing better.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “I fear it might be, but her doctor says everything will be fine. She just needs more rest.” Felicity raised a shoulder, then dropped it again in apparent defeat. “He’ll be here tomorrow morning to check on her, if you’d like to ask him any questions.”

  “I’m sure I will. I just don’t know what they should be.” Sarah broke her cookie into fourths and ate a piece, not really tasting it. She’d been so hungry a moment before, but now it seemed she’d lost her appetite. She hated not knowing the answers. If the doctor felt Aunt Clasby would be fine, that contradicted her earlier thought—that he wrote the letter because he was concerned.

  Charlie ran into the kitchen just then. “She’s awake, Mama! She’s awake!”

  Felicity smiled at her exuberant son. “Thank you, Charlie. Sarah, would you like to take her in some tea?”

  “Of course.” Sarah poured a cup and dropped in two sugars, Aunt Clasby’s preference, then carried it down the hall.

  The door to the bedroom stood slightly ajar, and she nudged it all the way open with her elbow. “Aunt Clasby? Charlie says you’re awake now.”

  The woman lying in the bed blinked a few times. “Sarah, is that you? Come here and let me see you. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Sarah crossed the room and set the cup on the bedside table, then sat in the chair nearby. She took her aunt’s hand and held it between her own. “What’s this I hear about you not feeling well?”

  Aunt Clasby gave an impatient wave with her other hand. “It’s quite ridiculous, actually. One minute, I’m feeding the boys their supper, and the next, I’m in bed like an invalid. The doctor is all but worthless—he can’t come up with a single explanation that makes sense.”

  “How do you feel now?” Sarah asked.

  “Just as tired as I can be. I sleep and sleep, but the only thing I want to do as soon as I wake up is go back to sleep again. Now that you’re here, though, I want all the news from Topeka. Start from the moment I left and don’t forget a thing.”

  Sarah chuckled, then did as her aunt asked. She told her all about the weddings and impending weddings, births and impending births, and the few deaths that had taken place. Aunt Clasby absorbed it all like a sponge. Sarah knew her aunt had missed her friends in Kansas and tried to include as many tidbits about them as she could.

  “It sounds like they’re all doing well,” Aunt Clasby said when Sarah had reached the end of her long story. “Except for those who have passed away, but we’re told they’re in a much better place now, so I suppose they’re doing well too.”

  “Yes, I guess they are,” Sarah said, giving her aunt’s hand another squeeze before sitting back.

  “And what about you? You’ve told me about all your friends getting married—have any young men caught your eye lately?”

  “Not a one. I’m very busy at the hotel, though, and I don’t have much time for socializing, so it’s no surprise that I’m not seeing anyone. But I’m happy and fulfilled, and that’s really all I want out of life.”

  Aunt Clasby raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want to get married?”

  “No, that’s not it at all,” Sarah explained. “I’m just not in a hurry. Things will happen in their own due time.”

  “Sometimes you need to give them a nudge in the right direction,” Aunt Clasby said. “I don’t imagine you meet too many young men when you’re tucked away in that kitchen all the time.”

  “True, I don’t. And I don’t think they sell husbands at the general store.”

  “That’s a shame, actually. Think of all the time that could be saved.” Aunt Clasby looked thoughtful. “Well, if you can’t meet anyone in Topeka, maybe you could meet someone here. How long will you stay?”

  “Until you’re up and around again. So it’s all up to you.”

  “In a case like that, I might have to stay in my bed an extra-long time.” She reached out and laid her hand on Sarah’s arm. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too. But the train ride was actually shorter than I thought it would be—perhaps we could visit more often than we thought we could.”

  “Maybe. I think you’ll be the one to do the bulk of the traveling.” Aunt Clasby patted her arm. “There’s a concert tomorrow night, and I want you to go. Meet some young men. Socialize. See what can be done about this sorry situation.”

  “What sorry situation?”

  Aunt Clasby shook her head as though she thought Sarah had lost her mind. “Your lack of male companionship, of course.”

  “Why do I need male companionship when I’m perfectly happy as I am?”

  “A kitchen isn’t going to fill all your needs for love and family, my dear. A kitchen can’t keep your toes warm at night.”

  Sarah laughed. “The stove is nice and toasty.”

  “The stove may be warm and toasty, but when you run out of wood, it turns cold as stone. Trust me, my dear. A good man is better than any job, no matter how much you might love the job you have. Go to the concert. I insist. In fact, the doctor’s son is a pleasant fellow, and I bet he’d be delighted to escort you. I’ll ask Dr. Ridley about that when he comes by in the morning.”

  “Oh, no, Aunt Clasby, please. I’m fine. I really don’t need you to arrange an escort for me,” Sarah protested. “Especially not with a pleasant fellow. You know what that means, don’t you? They’re missing some teeth and possibly even some hair.”

  Aunt Clasby smiled. “I would never do that to you, Sarah. I’ve seen him, and I can assure you that he has every one of his teeth and every bit of his hair. They’re even quite nice.”

  “Couldn’t I go on my own?”

  “Absolutely not. You must be escorted.”

  “But if the purpose is for me to meet several young men and I’m assigned to just one, how does that work, exactly?”

  Aunt Clasby shook her head again. “You’re only assigned to one for the evening. The others will see you, chat with you, and invite you out another time. You must trust me on this, Sarah. I’ve done my fair share of matchmaking over the years, and I know what I’m talking about.”

  Sarah heaved a dramatic sigh, knowing it would amuse her aunt. “All right, you may ask your doctor about his pleasant son, and I’ll try to make myself agreeable for one evening. I’m not going to promise to find a husband, though. That’s asking a bit much.” A sudden thought occurred to her, and she tilted her head to one side. “Just how did you know about this concert? You’ve been here in this bed for a while, from what Felicity told me.”

  Aunt Clasby looked uncomfortable. “Well, when I found out you were coming, I might have asked Felicity if there were any events that you might enjoy.”

 
“Did you plan this? Oh, please tell me that you didn’t conjure up this whole illness to find me a husband.”

  “No, the illness is real. I just took advantage of the situation to see what I could do to help you out. Don’t be angry with me—I want you to be happy.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I am happy, and I’ve said so a dozen times. When will you believe me?”

  “I’m trying, I really am. It’s just hard for me to imagine someone being happy without being married.”

  Sarah softened her tone. “I know you and your husband shared many joyful years together, and I’m so glad you had that. But maybe not everyone needs the same thing.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But you’ll try?”

  Sarah laughed. There would be no getting through to her aunt—at least, not that day. “I’ll try.”

  Chapter Seven

  Denver, Colorado

  1875

  Dr. Ridley was a distinguished-looking gentleman with silver hair and a white mustache. He looked Aunt Clasby over carefully, spending extra time on her heart with the stethoscope, before turning to Sarah. “I understand you have some questions for me, Miss Palmer.”

  “I do. What exactly is the matter with her?”

  “It’s hard to say, but I believe it’s her heart. There’s no other explanation for why she’s not recovering more quickly.”

  “My heart? You never said so before,” Aunt Clasby said indignantly.

  He smiled at her. “That’s because I wasn’t sure,” he replied. “It hasn’t given me any clear reason to be alarmed—the beats are still in rhythm, they seem reasonably strong, and you haven’t had chest pain. Sometimes, however, the heart can beat softer when it’s worn out, and that would lead to feelings of fatigue. You’re a new patient and I’d never examined you before this incident, so I don’t know how hard your heart beats normally, and therefore, I have nothing to compare it to.”

  “So this is an educated guess?” Sarah clarified.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what this is. I sent a telegram to your Dr. Wayment in Topeka to ask for past history, and based on what he said, I feel that the heart is a reasonable explanation.”

  “And so what do we do?” Sarah asked.

  “Just what we’re doing now. We give your aunt lots of rest and very little excitement, and we see if the heart gets stronger over time. I imagine she’s worked it too hard and it needs a vacation, if you will.”

  “This is my fault,” Felicity said from where she stood in the corner. “I put far too much of my burden on her shoulders.”

  “And I should have moved out here with her when she asked me to,” Sarah added.

  “Both of you, stop it,” Aunt Clasby said. “You’re not to blame. If something so simple as taking care of three boys could make me feel this way, it was just a matter of time. I imagine it could have happened while sitting in church or reading an exciting novel. Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

  His mustache twitched. “I’ve never heard someone put church in the same category as an exciting novel, but yes, this could have happened at any time. If your heart was already weak, anything could have nudged it toward this outcome.”

  “You see? No one is at fault. I’ll continue to rest, and in another few weeks, I’ll be back up and underfoot again. Let’s talk about more pleasant things than this old lady.” She cast a sidelong glance at the doctor. “Your son is home for a visit, isn’t he?”

  “That’s right. He’s on a break between classes.”

  “I was telling Sarah about the concert tonight. I’m sure your son would appreciate it too.”

  “Now, Mrs. Clasby, are you trying to arrange a match between my son and your niece?”

  She feigned an innocent expression. “Now that you mention it, it’s actually a nice idea. What if they went to the concert together? That would be an enjoyable way to spend an evening.”

  The doctor gave her a knowing smile. “I’ll suggest it to my son. I trust you’re not opposed, Miss Palmer?”

  “I’m not usually the kind who likes having these things arranged for me, but I’m willing to give it a try,” Sarah answered honestly.

  He chuckled. “Very well. The carriage will be by at eight o’clock to collect you.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience.”

  “Not at all.” He offered Aunt Clasby a few more bits of advice regarding rest, then excused himself with a slight bow.

  “Well, now that you’ve decided what I’m doing tonight, how about telling me what I should wear?” Sarah said good-naturedly. “I didn’t bring any party dresses with me—I wasn’t expecting to do anything like this.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Felicity has something you can borrow,” Aunt Clasby said with the comfortable air of someone used to getting her way.

  “I do. It’s pale blue, and I think you’d look lovely in it.” Felicity tucked her arm through Sarah’s and led her to the other room, keeping a tight hold on her hand. As soon as they were out of earshot, she whispered, “Mother looks better than I’ve seen her in weeks. I think you’re giving her a little bit of a change. It’s good for her.”

  “My social life is good for her?” Sarah shook her head. “Next you’ll be telling me that I ought to plan a wedding while I’m here, and she’ll be completely cured.”

  “I’d never tell you to do that, but if it were to happen somehow, I wouldn’t complain.” Felicity grinned, then threw open the doors of her wardrobe. “Here’s the dress I was talking about.”

  It really was a lovely thing—yards upon yards of frothy blue material. “It’s a bit thin for winter weather, but I have a wrap you can borrow too,” Felicity said. “I haven’t worn this since before Charlie was born—I put on a few inches, and never took them back off. It should suit you nicely.”

  Sarah stepped out of her dress and slid into the one Felicity held out for her. It smelled a bit musty, as dresses do when they haven’t been worn, but Felicity said she’d take care of that small problem. The dress did fit well, which Sarah almost resented—if it didn’t fit, she wouldn’t have to go. Then again, maybe this son of the doctor’s would be handsome and charming, and she’d have a good time. She wouldn’t know unless she gave him a chance.

  After she took off the dress, Felicity whisked it away to freshen it up, and Sarah put on her own things again. It was like stepping back into her familiar skin after becoming a butterfly for a moment. The wings were exhilarating, but there was nothing like the comforts of the familiar.

  ***

  Sarah tucked a tendril of hair up into the bun at the nape of her neck, then surveyed herself in the mirror. Felicity had done a beautiful job with her dress, and she thought she looked rather nice. She only hoped the doctor’s son thought so too. What was his name, anyway? She couldn’t just go on thinking of him as “the doctor’s son” all night. With any luck, he’d introduce himself when he came to pick her up so she wouldn’t have to ask.

  Almost as if he could read her thoughts, a knock sounded on the door just then. John answered it, then stepped back to let their visitor in. Sarah put on a bright smile which froze when she saw who it was.

  “Dr. Ridley. What brings you by?”

  The doctor took off his hat. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Palmer, but my son was otherwise engaged tonight. I wondered if I might escort you to the concert instead.” Sure enough, he wore evening clothes, and Sarah caught a whiff of cologne.

  Too flabbergasted to say anything else, she nodded. “Thank you. That would be very nice.”

  He led the way out to his carriage, a large and comfortable-looking rig pulled by two bay horses, and gave her a hand up. Then he took his own seat and lifted the whip from its holder. “Let’s be off,” he said. “They generally start the concerts right on time, and I enjoy getting a good seat.”

  The carriage started with a jolt as he touched the horses’ rumps with the whip, and Sarah clutched the seat to make sure she didn’t go flying off and onto the muddy street below.
“It’s good of Mrs. Ridley to spare you for the evening,” she said after she caught her balance.

  “Mrs. Ridley, I’m sorry to say, passed away last spring,” the doctor said, giving another flick of the whip. Sarah was quite sure the horses knew they should keep moving—they looked like smart animals—and she was tempted to yank the whip right out of the doctor’s hand. But she didn’t.

  “Oh, that is sad,” she replied, not knowing what else to say.

  “She was sick for a good number of years before she finally succumbed,” the doctor went on. “She was prone to every kind of ailment—bronchitis, pneumonia, pleurisy . . .”

  He droned on, and Sarah politely nodded. She’d been worried that her companion for the evening would be boring. Well, she’d certainly never imagined this—a man who must be in his sixties, telling her all about his late wife with no signs of stopping anytime soon.

  “Ah, here we are,” he said at last, pulling the carriage up in front of the hall. “Allow me to help you down here, near the entry, and then I’ll move the carriage off to the side. It would be a shame if you soiled your dainty slippers with mud.” He gave her a smile that she supposed was meant to be charming.

  “Thank you,” she said. She stepped down as carefully as she could and then waited under the overhang of the roof until the doctor parked the carriage and joined her.

  They found seats easily enough, and soon the first selection began. Sarah was able to relax and immerse herself in the music until intermission, when the audience was invited to step out into the lobby for refreshments. Dr. Ridley took her arm solicitously and escorted her up the aisle. Sadly, his reflexes weren’t as quick as they should have been because he then plowed her right into a man’s back.

  “I’m so sorry,” he blustered as the other gentleman turned around.

  It was Gilbert Howard, and suddenly, everything in Sarah’s field of vision seemed blurry.

  “Not at all, Doctor. Think nothing of it.” Then Gilbert turned his head. “Miss Palmer! How good to see you. I didn’t know you were in Denver.”

  “I arrived yesterday.” Sarah tried to smile, but her face seemed frozen.