As Jeanette told Abigail about her agreement with Dr. Wayment, her sister’s eyes grew larger and larger, and soon she didn’t look sleepy at all anymore.
“So I’ll still be living here at the hotel. Mr. Brody says I can do the ironing to pay for my keep.” Jeanette sat back, waiting for Abigail’s response. She wanted to close her eyes so she couldn’t see the expressions dancing across her sister’s face, but she didn’t.
“I think that’s wonderful,” Abigail said at long last. “But why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I was worried that you’d be upset with me,” Jeanette said, reaching out and taking her sister’s hand. “We’ve always been a team, you and I. You might not want me to do this.”
“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy,” Abigail replied. “Everything I’ve done is so you could someday be happy. This is exactly what I would wish for you.” She wiped away a tear with the hand that wasn’t clasping Jeanette’s. “I’m a bit sad because this means we’re no longer children and things are changing, but I couldn’t be more pleased. Dr. Wayment will be a good teacher, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh, Abigail,” Jeanette said, gathering her sister into a hug, “when were we ever children?”
Abigail gave a bitter laugh. “So we shouldn’t reminisce about something we never had?” She gave Jeanette a last tight squeeze and then leaned back. “Where are you off to this morning?”
“I’m going to see Dr. Wayment to tell him that Mr. Brody just hired a replacement and to ask him when he’d like me to start. Mr. Brody feels that Rachel will work out well.” Jeanette stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “How do I look?”
“Very nice. Exactly like a new nurse should look.” Abigail leaned over and grabbed her reticule from the bedside table. “You’re missing one thing, though.” She dug around for a moment and produced a small gold brooch. “You should wear this today. It would make Mother proud.”
Jeanette reached out with trembling fingers. This brooch was the only nice thing their mother had ever owned, and it had been passed down to Abigail as the oldest. “Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure.” Abigail took the brooch and fastened it for Jeanette just under her collar. “There. Now go and learn and do wonderful things.”
“Thank you.” Jeanette caught her sister up in another hug, but this time, she didn’t let go for several seconds. “Thank you,” she said again, this time whispering.
When Jeanette stepped back, she glanced around and saw that Olivia and Rachel were awake. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”
“That’s all right. It was almost time for us to get up anyway.” Olivia rubbed her eyes. “Good luck today. I hope Dr. Wayment’s easier on you than my father is on his nurses.”
Jeanette stifled her instant flash of irritation. It was beyond her why Olivia could never just let someone be happy. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll get along well.” She stepped lightly down the stairs before she could inadvertently wake anyone else—there were three guests in the hotel, and she imagined they were all quite tired from traveling the day before.
“You look very nice,” Miss Hampton said approvingly as Jeanette entered the kitchen. “I’ve just pulled some bread out of the oven. Sit down and have some before you leave.”
“Thank you, Miss Hampton. I appreciate your understanding—I imagine I’ve put you in a bind, leaving like this.” Jeanette accepted the plate Miss Hampton handed her and then sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen.
“I’m very happy for you, actually.” Miss Hampton buttered a slice of bread for herself and sat down across from Jeanette. “Any time a woman can better herself, she should. This is a rough world, even more so out here on the western fringes of this new country. Any education you can get will only work to your favor.”
“Mr. Brody said something very similar to me when I told him my plans. I suppose this progressive way of thinking runs in your family.”
Miss Hampton smiled. “Perhaps it does. It certainly hasn’t made us popular in certain circles.”
Jeanette played with the crust from her bread. “Miss Hampton, may I ask you a terribly impertinent question?”
A smile played around the edges of Miss Hampton’s lips. “Those are my favorite kind.”
“You . . . you never married.”
“True. But that wasn’t a question.”
Jeanette took a deep breath and tried again. “Was that by choice, or did you never have the opportunity?”
“I would have to say a little of both.” Miss Hampton looked thoughtful, as though remembering. “I daresay I could have been married if I’d put a little more effort into it. I attended social functions and concerts, but I never felt comfortable around large groups of people. I’d much rather sit down and have a quiet conversation, like we’re doing now. Most of the men I met were looking for someone who would light up a room with her wit and grace, and I was more likely to empty a room with my tendency to be critical. So to answer your question, yes, I could have been married, but it would have meant becoming someone I was not. I chose to remain myself and stay single. I believe I’ve been happier this way than I would be otherwise.”
Jeanette nodded. “So you feel it’s all right for a woman to remain unmarried?”
“I do.” Miss Hampton tilted her head to the side and considered Jeanette. “You’re not asking these questions because you’re curious about me—you’re seeking answers for your own life’s journey. Why are you trying to decide about marriage at your young age? You have years to make such weighty decisions.”
Jeanette shifted in her chair. She hadn’t meant to be so transparent. “There are so few good men in this world. Mr. Brody and Tom are two of the finest exceptions, but the more I see of men, the more I think I’ll never find one who is truly good at heart.”
“I could say the same about a lot of women,” Miss Hampton said wryly. “Why men in particular? Did your scare in the dining room the other day affect you more deeply than I thought?”
“No reason. Thank you for the bread, Miss Hampton. I’d best be on my way—I understand that Dr. Wayment prefers to take his home appointments early in the day.” Jeanette put her plate next to the washtub and slipped out the kitchen door before Miss Hampton even had a chance to respond.
The walk to Dr. Wayment’s was pleasant, along well-maintained roads, and at this time of the morning, it wasn’t too hot. She arrived only slightly out of breath, determined to get more exercise for her overall health so a moderate walk wouldn’t make her feel tired. When she knocked, the door was opened by a stout gray-haired lady in a deep brown dress and white apron, who looked at her curiously.
“May I help you? Are you in need of a doctor?”
Jeanette took a deep breath. “My name is Jeanette Peterson, and I’m here to speak with Dr. Wayment about becoming his nurse.”
The woman nodded. “He mentioned you, Miss Peterson. Please, come in. I’m Mrs. Hadley, the housekeeper. You’re most welcome here.” She stepped aside, and Jeanette walked into the house. She hadn’t seen the interior before—the night Tom was injured, she’d stayed outside with her mount. Now she paused in the hallway. The floors were richly polished wood, and there were beautiful needlework pictures on the walls—it looked like a fancy parlor, not a doctor’s office.
Mrs. Hadley must have caught the direction of her gaze. “I thought this place could use a little sprucing up, so I brought in those embroideries,” she said. “They make the walls look a tad brighter, don’t they?”
“They’re lovely.” Although she was still distracted, Jeanette turned and gave Mrs. Hadley a smile. “Did you make them?”
“I did. Sometimes the winter weather keeps me from going out very often, so I sit by the fire and stitch. Keeps me occupied and out of my neighbors’ business.” She paused and chuckled. “And that’s where I’d be mistaken. I seem to end up in everyone’s business whether I seek it out or not.”
Jeanet
te smiled again. She liked this woman who wore her faults on her sleeve and spoke as if all people were equals. “Is Dr. Wayment in?”
Mrs. Hadley sighed and shook her head. “Well, would you look at me jabbering on, as if you didn’t have a specific reason for being here? Yes, dear, he’s in. No one came to fetch him away in the night, so he’s awake and in his office.” She moved to the side of the hall and rapped on the closed door nearest the entrance. Then she opened the door without waiting for a reply. “Miss . . . I’m sorry. What was your name again? Sometimes my memory for details is lacking.”
“That’s quite all right. It’s Peterson.”
“Miss Peterson to see you, Doctor.”
“Send her in.”
Jeanette entered the room and stood not too far from the doorway. She didn’t know exactly what she had been expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. The walls were covered in bookcases from top to bottom, which fit with her idea of a doctor’s office, but there were papers and newspaper articles and envelopes spilling out of the books, sticking up from the tops, poked down between them, and littering nearly every surface in the room. She’d never seen so many scraps of paper in her life.
“It’s rather overwhelming, isn’t it?”
She was jolted out of her reverie by the amused voice coming from behind the desk. “I find it fascinating,” she said, turning her gaze toward the doctor. “You must have found value in each of these things you’ve saved, else why save them? I’m curious to discover which things you find useful and which you don’t.”
“I’m afraid I keep far too many things for Mrs. Hadley’s taste.” Dr. Wayment rose and offered his hand to Jeanette. “Please be seated.”
He was dressed casually, without a coat or vest, but his shirt was crisp and white. After his demonstration at the washtub the other day, Jeanette was tempted to ask him if he’d done his own clothing, but she didn’t know if he’d think she was being impertinent. He seemed younger in the morning light, less weighed down by the burdens of his profession. Jeanette began to relax.
“Mr. Brody has found a replacement for me, so I’m ready to begin any time you’d like,” she said. “He just asks that I find time to do the ironing.” Her face felt warm after she spoke. Dr. Wayment didn’t need to know the details of her arrangement with Mr. Brody, and he certainly didn’t care about her ironing. Perhaps she wasn’t as relaxed as she’d believed herself to be.
“I think we can work ironing into your schedule.” Dr. Wayment smiled again, that amused smile she saw from him so often. He must think her terribly funny. “The difficulty, Miss Peterson, is that I’m not sure what to do with you, exactly. I’ve never had a nurse before. What if you were to follow me around for a day and see what it is that I do, and then we can discuss it? You can tell me what you’d like to learn, and we can figure it all out together.”
“That sounds very reasonable, Doctor.” Jeanette appreciated the idea that she would have a say in what she learned—this would allow her to pursue her interests while still being useful to him. So many different concepts rushed into her mind all at once—in truth, she wanted to learn how to do everything. “What are you doing right now?”
Dr. Wayment lifted a cup she hadn’t noticed before. “Right now, I’m drinking my coffee. Would you like some?”
“No, thank you. I’m already quite jittery enough.”
He laughed. “Very well, then. Water? Tea?”
“No, thank you.”
He finished his coffee in a long series of gulps. “I am now done. Next on my list is reading the mail that came in yesterday.” He reached for an envelope, then quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry, but many aspects of my life simply aren’t very interesting.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “I’ll just sit here and wait.”
“If you’re sure.”
He picked up a letter opener and sliced open the first envelope, then pulled out the folded paper inside. It was heavily scented with perfume—so much that Jeanette coughed.
“Are you sensitive to fragrances, Miss Peterson? If you are, this might be a problem—I often use substances that are quite strong, and you would be encountering other things such as vomit or gangrene that you might find difficult to tolerate.”
None of that sounded the least bit pleasant, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “I’m generally fine around scents, Dr. Wayment. That particular fragrance, however, is a bit . . . cloying.”
He nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “That word not only describes the perfume, but the sender of the letter. This came from Miss Genevieve Hall, who decided at some point back that she would very much like to be a doctor’s wife. Because the other two doctors in town are married, I became her choice.”
Jeanette felt her cheeks begin to warm again. “I’m not sure I should be privy to your romantic life, Dr. Wayment,” she protested.
He held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken, and I’ll be more circumspect in future. But please know that Miss Hall has nothing to do with my romantic life. In fact, I don’t even have a romantic life—my time is devoted entirely to my patients. You will not have to suffer with me through long bouts of melancholia on account of some female.”
“I believe we are in agreement, then,” Jeanette said. Thank goodness—she’d never meant to become this man’s confidant.
“Do you know, I believe this mail can wait until later. Come with me, and let’s visit some of my patients. Why don’t you take a cup of tea with Mrs. Hadley while I hitch up the buggy?”
Dr. Wayment grabbed his coat and hat from a chair in the corner of the room and strode out. Jeanette sat there bemused. He hadn’t ushered her out or escorted her to the kitchen or any such thing. Well, she supposed she didn’t necessarily need more of an invitation. She stood and made her way toward the sound of chopping, where she found Mrs. Hadley busily dicing carrots at the kitchen counter.
“I’ve been sent to drink tea with you while the doctor hitches up the buggy,” she told the housekeeper. “Frankly, I’m not much in the mood for tea, so we can skip that part.”
Mrs. Hadley smiled. “The doctor tries to be hospitable, but sometimes he forgets little things, like asking you if you’d care for whatever it is he’s offering.” She gave the last unfortunate carrot one more whack. “He’s a good man, despite all his bumbling. He just needs a little refinement, and then there could be no one better.”
“How long have you worked here?” Jeanette asked, taking a seat at the small table in the kitchen.
“Oh, since the doctor came to town. That was around four years ago.” Mrs. Hadley pulled out an onion and peeled off the golden yellow paper surrounding it. “I’d come to town to visit my sister, and heard tell of a new doctor looking for a housekeeper. I certainly had nothing pinning me down—I was a recent widow, a bit at loose ends, and at first I thought I could live with my sister, but that certainly wouldn’t have worked. She’s very set in her ways, just as I’m very set in mine. Perhaps you know her—she runs a boarding house down your direction. Her name is Mrs. Dempsey.”
“Why, yes, I do know her. And now that I study you, I can see the resemblance.”
“Well, don’t study me too hard, or you’ll start to see my flaws.” She chuckled. “I’m her older sister by two years, and fate left us both alone after a time. I believe we’ve each settled in nicely now, thank goodness. Many women don’t fare so well.”
“Tell me a little about the doctor,” Jeanette said. “I’ve assisted him at the hotel numerous times, but I know very little of him beyond that.”
Mrs. Hadley paused for a moment, her knife in midair. “He’s a very inquisitive man, that’s to be sure. He always wants to know the reasons behind things and what makes the world work. He’s headstrong about some things, and in others, he’s willing to listen to differing opinions. He’s very kind, but he can be quite firm. He’s calm in a crisis, which is an excellent quality in a doctor.”
Jeanette nodded. “And how old
is he, if it’s not too forward of me to ask? He seems rather young to be a doctor with so much experience.”
“He’s thirty-five. He studied hard and moved through his schooling quickly, and devoted nearly his whole life to medicine. I’d say he knows more than many men twice his age.”
“I chose well, then, when I asked him to be my mentor.”
“You certainly did. I know of no finer. And in Topeka? My goodness. Your choices here are definitely limited.”
Jeanette chuckled. “I believe Dr. Wayment called one of the other doctors a twit and another a womanizer.”
“And that’s entirely accurate.” Mrs. Hadley finished with the onion and scooped it into her pot. “Here comes the doctor.” She nodded toward the window.
Jeanette rose and peered out. She could see Dr. Wayment with his buggy out on the street. “Thank you for this chat, Mrs. Hadley. I trust it’s the first of many more to come.”
Mrs. Hadley smiled. “It was my pleasure. You’re a sprightly little thing—I daresay you’ll liven things up around here. We tend to get too quiet for our own good.”
Jeanette pondered that while she walked out to the buggy. If Mrs. Hadley was looking to her for noise and gaiety, she’d be sadly disappointed.
“There you are,” Dr. Wayment said, as though he’d been waiting for some time. “Are you ready?”
“I am. Where are we headed first?”
“First, we’ll go see Daisy Brown. She has acute gastritis, which we’re treating with milk and with good foods.” He climbed into the buggy as he spoke and took up the reins. Jeanette looked at him in disbelief for a moment—he hadn’t given her a hand up, which was the gentlemanly thing to do. “After that, we’ll pay a call on Mrs. Gillespie.” He paused and looked at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you need assistance?”
She bit back her sharp retort. “No, not at all.” She grasped the side of the buggy and climbed in, landing on the seat next to him. Her skirts were in disarray, but she was decent, and that’s all she cared about at the moment. “What is Mrs. Gillespie’s ailment?”
The doctor didn’t seem to notice that she was flustered. “She has a touch of catarrh in her lungs. Her treatment is also food related, but in her case, I’m encouraging her to go easier on the sweets.” He flicked the horse’s reins, and they moved down the street.
The Dark and the Dawn (Kansas Crossroads Book 3) Page 5
