Peg retrieved it and dabbed the tears from her eyes and cheek. His musky scent on the handkerchief filled her nostrils. A flutter of awareness that she was drawn to this man in a way she’d not been drawn to another in so many years coursed through her veins like a riptide. “We shouldn’t tease the gossips.”
“But it’s so much fun,” Matt snickered.
“True, but how many do you suppose might take our teasing humor and run with it?”
“Let ’em run. You and I know the truth. That’s all that should matter.”
“I suppose you’re right, and it is fun playing like this. I don’t know when I’ve laughed this hard in years.”
“Me, either. I guess Esther’s death took a part of myself.”
Peg sobered. “I would imagine it would. You said you’d been married for twenty years, and you said you had a good marriage.”
“Yes. We had a good marriage.”
Peg stepped back behind the counter and pulled her needlework out from behind it.
“What are you working on now?” He asked.
“Oh, something for a special family member.”
“May I see?” Matt reached out.
Peg held it up for him.
“John, God’s gift,” Matt read.
“It’s a pillow.”
“You really have quite a talent there. Names can be so powerful. Micah means ‘who is like the Lord.’ ”
She smiled, her eyes on her work. Since the twenty-eighth, she had felt the burden lifted from her shoulders. Bea was right, that day had marked the end of her sorrow. It had been time to forgive herself. Actually, she should have forgiven herself years ago but…what did it matter? It was done. She was at peace with the past.
“As much as I enjoy your fine company, I must get back to work. Would you be free this evening to join me for dinner?” Matt stood, his eyes fixed on her for an answer.
“What, and have them up the number of children we’ll have to four?” Peg teased.
Matt raised his hands. “Don’t start that again. I’ll not be able to keep a straight face when I meet some of the folks on the street.”
“Trust me, you’re going to have a hard time with it anyway. I’ll be happy to join you tonight, though. But how about if I fix us up something special? Could you use a home-cooked meal?”
“Woman, don’t tempt me.” Matt grinned. His green eyes sparkled with excitement. Maybe inviting him to her house wasn’t such a good idea, she realized. “If you’re offering a home-cooked meal, how could a man turn that down? When should I arrive?”
“Better make it six. I don’t close the shop until five.”
“Sounds wonderful. Can I bring some fresh bread or rolls from the bakery?”
“That would be fine.”
Matt nodded and proceeded toward the door. “Thanks, Peg. You’re a breath of fresh air.”
“So are you, Friend.” Peg waved him off. Perhaps they could be just friends. Not all men and women had to get romantically involved in order to have a relationship, right? She rehearsed the morning conversation through her mind once again. What would it be like to have a child with such a handsome man?
“Child?” Peg groaned. She didn’t even want to entertain that thought.
“Miss Martin?” A slender Hispanic girl stood in her doorway.
“Hello, Grace. Come in.” Peg started to shake. Could she go through with this?
❧
Matt continued to chuckle as he walked toward the center of the business district. The town was relatively quiet this morning. People hard at work, he presumed. He marched over to the baker’s and ordered a loaf of rye with raisins and chopped walnuts.
“I can make that. But you might have to buy the second loaf. Ain’t a normal order down here.” The baker stood with a white apron decorated with patches of flour and crumbs.
“I understand.”
“I’ll try and sell it to another customer but…”
Matt raised his hand. “No bother. I just haven’t had that bread for awhile. I’m willing to pay for both loaves.”
“You said you like it the way the French cook it?” The baker raised his furry gray eyebrows.
“Yes, is that a problem?”
“No, no. It’s a hard crust. Simple, really. You just brush on some water to the outside of the bread before it cooks. Do you want a thick crust or thin, hard crust?”
“Thin, if you don’t mind.”
The baker grinned. “No problem. I can make it. You come by my store later. I’ll fix you your bread. You see, Mario can bake anything.”
“I’m sure you can. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Bower.”
Matt supposed everyone knew his name, but he was certain he didn’t know Mario’s—other than the fact that the outside sign to the bakery shop said “Mario the baker.” And he sounded Italian, which seemed odd. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, Mr.—”
“Mario Falluchi.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Falluchi.”
“Call me Mario. Everyone does.”
Matt nodded his head. “Mario it is then. When should I come back?”
Mario glanced up at the wall clock. “Four o’clock.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you then.” Matt stepped out into the balmy tropical sun. He really needed to get some cooler clothing if he was going to make his home here. He walked over to a small shop where men’s attire hung in the front window. In between the baker’s and this shop, he counted at least three vacant storefronts. Perhaps Peg was right; finding a place to rent wasn’t going to be a problem for her.
“May I help you?” A short, well-rounded Hispanic woman came from the back room upon his entrance.
“I was looking for something a bit more comfortable in this heat.”
“Sí, you need a Guayoubera”
“What’s a Guayoubera?”
“A Cuban male’s shirt. It’s light and gives a man relief. You don’t tuck it into your trousers like you wear your business shirts.”
“Could you show me one?”
The friendly woman walked over to a row of shirts and pulled a white, short-sleeved boat of a shirt off the rack. He would have to be out of his mind to dress in that.
“Come, try it on.”
“I—”
“Señor, try. If you don’t like, no problem.”
Matt removed his vest, tie, and then his dress shirt.
“Hijo! No wonder you’re so uncomfortable.”
Matt tried the strange shirt. He’d seen a few men dressed in these around the island. Even businessmen wore them in their offices. A tie was totally inappropriate for such a shirt. Perhaps he could adjust to them. They appeared comfortable.
“The shirt, it blocks the sun, but it’s loose so the body heat can escape, sí?”
“Hmm, are they supposed to hang so loosely over the shoulders?” Matt lifted the shirt on the top of the shoulders and let it drop back down.
“Sí.”
“Gracías. How much?”
“Five dollars.”
“Five dollars?” How could a simple shirt cost so much?
“Four?”
Hmm, he’d forgotten that some folks liked to barter and work their way down in price. He scanned the store and decided not to press the woman further. It seemed full of items and few customers. “I’ll take five shirts then.”
“Gracías, Mr. Bower.”
Her eyes sparkled. He examined the shirt more closely. It was well tailored, and he suspected the saleswoman had made it. “Did you make these?”
“Sí. Do you want all white?”
“Let’s add a little color—that light blue and pale yellow—the rest will be fine in white.”
“No problem.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“Can you give me another Guayoubera in a smaller size, one for my son. His shoulders are not as broad as mine.”
“Sí, I have just the Guayoubera for a young man.”
She pulled another off the rack. It looked identical to the one he had on. “Thank you. It will make a fine Christmas present.”
She nodded. Her smile stretched across her face and touched her eyes. Times had been tough on this island. Perhaps his company would help bring some welcome relief. The question was, how could he turn down an applicant? More would apply than he had jobs for. Matt sighed. I guess I’ll deal with that when the time comes, Lord.
He paid for his Guayouberas and brought them to the small cottage. At home, he fixed a light lunch for himself and determined his afternoon schedule. A trip to Mobile to check on shipping from there might have to be planned soon. His recent letters had come back unanswered. His business depended on the farmers being able to ship their cotton to him as well. He penned another letter and prayed this one would be answered.
A rap at his door made him slip with his pen.
“Mr. Bower, come quick!”
Twelve
Peg groaned. The gentle lull of the waves lapping the pilings confused her anguished mind. The throbbing pain made her open her eyes once again. She needed to focus.
“The pain!” she cried out.
“Hang on, Miz Martin. Help is on the way.”
Who called to her? Where was she? Her fingers grasped the wooden planks around her. She tried to move her right leg.
A cry of pain ripped through her throat. “Oh, God, help me.”
“Relax, Miss Martin. You’re going to be all right.”
Peg tried to focus. Who had spoken?
“Miz Martin, relax. I’ll take care of you.” Mo’s familiar voice called out to her. Someone she recognized. At least a voice she recognized. When she opened her eyes, she saw several figures with no definite shape or size. Mo, on the other hand, was a large man. She figured he was the dark blob kneeling down in front of her.
Peg moaned.
“Give us some space!” called another voice she thought belonged to Ellis Southard. “Relax, Peg, Mo and I will get you out of here.”
Out of where? Where was she? And why did it hurt so much? Why was she half standing, half lying face down. Wooden splinters bit into her cheek.
“Everyone move back. There’s no telling how rotten some of these other boards are,” Ellis ordered.
Peg heard various gasps from the crowd.
Water splashed below her.
“She’s bleedin’ bad. We’ve got to get her out, Mr. Ellis.” Mo now lay beside her. “I can see below. She’s pinned by a two-by-six that’s cut into her right thigh.”
Peg now understood. She’d fallen through a piece of rotten decking on the dock behind her store. She’d gone out there with Grace Perez to talk about private matters. Parts of that dock were unstable. She knew better. Peg mumbled, “I mustn’t have been paying attention.”
“Doc’s on his way,” someone yelled from some place off to her left.
Tears burned down her cheeks. “Oh, God, please help.”
“Can you lift your body, Peg?” Ellis asked.
Peg pushed the boards with her hands. The pain increased. She screamed.
“Miz Martin, listen to me. I’m goin’ to lift this here board, and Mr. Ellis, he’ll pull ye out. Iffin you feel too much pain, grab my arm. We’ll stop. All right?”
Peg nodded and placed her hand on Mo’s large muscular forearm.
Words were mumbled. She felt Ellis reach his arms under her own. “Hang on, Peg.”
Mo lifted.
“Stop!” she screamed clawing her nails into Mo’s arm.
“Get me a saw!” Mo hollered.
“And some clean rags,” Ellis added.
“I’m gonna cut the board, then when we lift it off you, it won’t be pressing in on ye,” Mo advised.
Peg licked her lips. Her stomach heaved. She closed her eyes and fought the onslaught of fresh pain. She couldn’t feel her leg below the board in her thigh.
“What happened?” Matt gasped. “Get her out of there,” he demanded.
“We’re working on it,” Ellis groaned.
Matt lay down on the boards beside Peg opposite Mo. “Hang on, Peg.”
“I’m trying,” she groaned through her teeth.
Matt reached in below the boards and held her thigh. She’d seen a flash of white linens in his hand but didn’t dare ask where it came from. The pressure added slightly to her discomfort at first, then seemed to be helping.
Peg heard the sawing of the wood. With each thrust the board jiggled in her leg. “Oh, God, help!”
“Almost through, Miz Martin,” Mo announced.
Almost wasn’t good enough. She wanted him to stop, and she wanted him to stop now. The wood cracked beneath her, and she started to slide down. Another strangled scream tore its way passed her lips. “Dear Jesus, this hurts. Please help me, Lord,” she cried.
“Clean rags,” Matt demanded. He lifted his hand off her thigh and tossed the now bloodstained rags aside. “Now, Mo.”
Mo pulled the board free from her leg. Ellis held on to her as she felt her body hang below the dock. Mo helped lift her as Matt continued to press the linens against her thigh.
“Bring her to my office. I’ll need to operate,” Doc Hansen ordered.
Peg blinked at the crowd. Blurred images of people standing there with horror on their faces slowly focused. Mo cradled her in his arms. Matt continued to press the rags on her thigh.
“Peg!” Daniel cried.
“Daniel,” she whispered.
“She’s goin’ to be all right, Mr. Daniel. I need to take her to the doctor’s office.” Mo continued to hustle her in that direction.
“What happened?” Daniel asked.
Someone filled him in, or at least she thought she heard someone mumbling something about rotten boards. Her body chilled and heated at the same moment. She floated away from the pain, away from Mo’s arms, into the deep recesses of her mind.
❧
Matt paced the length of Doctor Hanson’s front parlor. Daniel sat in a chair, huddled over in prayer. Ellis and Mo left, with stern words to fetch them when there was news. They insisted on going down to the dock to repair the damage in case small children would be curious. Matt had to agree with them on that score.
Dark woodwork framed white plaster walls. Various pieces of Queen Anne furniture were neatly placed around the room. Every few minutes, someone would pop into the doctor’s parlor and ask how Peg was doing. Did she have any idea how many people genuinely cared for her? Matt wondered.
“Mr. Bower, please sit down,” Daniel pleaded. “Your pacing is making me more nervous.”
“Sorry.” Matt plopped down on the nearest chair.
“Do you think she’ll be able to walk again?” Daniel asked, without really looking for an answer.
“I couldn’t say. I pray she will.”
“What was she doing back there on that dock anyway?” Daniel clutched his fist.
“I’m sorry. I was at home when it happened. I—I…” Matt mumbled.
“I’m sorry. I know you don’t have the answers. I guess no one does but Peg.” Daniel closed his eyes. “Lord, she has to be all right.”
Matt heard Daniel’s voice crack. He swallowed his own bitter tears. It’s my dock. I’m responsible. I saw the condition of some of the wood. I should have roped it off. I should have done something, Lord. Hindsight was always perfect. Matt folded his hands and kneaded the tension out of them.
He removed his pocket watch for the hundredth time. It had been three hours since he helped lay Peg’s motionless body on the table.
The dark oak door creaked as it opened. Dr. Hansen dried his hands off with a fresh white towel. Blood stained his apron. Matt’s stomach rolled. There was so much blood.
“Daniel,” the doctor called.
Daniel’s head popped up from prayer. “How is she, Doc?”
“She lost a lot of blood, but she’s going to be fine. I want her to spend the night here, possibly another. It all depends on how quickly she resp
onds.”
Daniel nodded his head. “Whatever it takes.”
“How badly was her leg injured?” Matt asked.
“There’s a lot of damage to the quadraceps muscle. With God’s grace, she won’t lose her limb. But it will take some time before she can use it. We have to monitor the limb, watch for any signs of gangrene. I might have to remove it in order to save her life.”
“No,” Daniel gasped.
“What can we do to help prevent that?” Matt stepped closer to the doctor. There had to be something he could do.
“Change the dressing regularly. Message the limb, encourage the blood to flow back and forth in the limb.”
Matt held his tongue. These were private matters for family, and he wasn’t family. He’d only been raising her son for the past twenty years.
“I’ll see to her care, Doctor.” Daniel raised his shoulders and strengthened his resolve.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me I have a patient to attend to.” Doc Hansen stepped back toward his inner office. “Daniel, might I suggest you find a couple of women to take care of her. She’ll need around the clock attention for a few days.”
Daniel’s face flamed as brightly as Matt’s felt. “Yes, Sir,” they mumbled in unison.
“Now go home and let me care for my patient. I don’t have time for dealing with brothers and lovers.”
“Lovers?” Matt and Daniel harmonized, looking at each other. “What?”
“You heard me. Now shoo, the both of you.”
“Can I see her?” Daniel asked.
“No, I’ve not cleaned up in there, and I don’t need another patient passing out on me. The nurse and I will have things cleaned up, and Peg should be awake by morning. Good day, gentlemen.”
The doctor stepped back into his office, not waiting for a response.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Daniel.” Matt took a single step toward the door.
“No, Sir. You’re going to tell me what’s going on with you and my sister,” Daniel demanded, his right hand fisted.
“Nothing, Daniel. Peg and I are friends. We haven’t so much as even held hands. It’s just this island and its silly rumors. In fact, Peg and I were joking about it this morning. Apparently, according to the gossip, we’re engaged and going to have three children.” Matt smiled.
Southern Treasures Page 9
