The Doctor's Wife
Book Jacket
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Tags: Physicians, Medical, Kansas, Contemporary, Romance - Historical, Fiction, Romance, Baby, Historical, Single fathers, Biography & Autobiography, Child, General, Non-Classifiable, Fiction - Romance
How Could She Say Yes?
People like Ellie Parrish did not get proposals of marriage from someone like Dr. Caleb Chaney. Even if his offer was the answer to her prayers, a man as decent and kind as Caleb didn't deserve a woman whose past was a lie.
Caleb Chaney could see that Ellie Parrish was a woman with a troubled soul. But he could also see a woman with a heart big enough to love his infant son as though she were his mother, and big enough to teach Caleb himself how to love again.
THE DOCTOR’S WIFE
CHERYL ST.JOHN
How Could She Say Yes?
People like Ellie Parrish did not get proposals of marriage from someone like Dr. Caleb Chaney. Even if his offer was the answer to her prayers, a man as decent and kind as Caleb didn't deserve a woman whose past was a lie.
Caleb Chaney could see that Ellie Parrish was a woman with a troubled soul. But he could also see a woman with a heart big enough to love his infant son as though she were his mother, and big enough to teach Caleb himself how to love again.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Prologue
Florence, Kansas, 1879
A shimmering silver moon spied upon the girl’s halting, labored progress as she crept through the stand of midnight-cloaked cottonwoods, their long-fingered branches snagging her threadbare dress and scratching her bare arms. She held the tiny shawl-wrapped bundle protectively against her breast and stopped often, fighting the trembling that shook her exhausted limbs and the weakness that threatened her ability to reach her destination undiscovered.
Another spasm racked her belly, and she fell to her knees, curling herself around the bundle and whimpering soundlessly. A cloud momentarily obscured her vision, or perhaps she blacked out, but too much time had passed when she could once again see clearly enough to move forward through the frosted moonlight and into the sleeping town. Quickly, she found the alley.
A cat yowled, startling her, and she nearly stumbled again. She gripped her concealed burden and hurried on. Finally, she came up behind the house she’d been heading toward with single-minded purpose. No light shone from the eyelike windows, the occupants having long ago retired.
The girl watched the house enshrouded in darkness for several minutes, torn with what she must do and what her heart and her body rejected as unendurable.
The infant moved against her breast, a helpless, tiny creature needing more care and protection than she ever could hope to give it. The feeble movement tore at her heart, but prodded her forward.
Once crouched in the concealing darkness at the corner of the house, the precarious safety of this rash plan struck her hard. What if no one came to the door? What if a dog or a wild animal was first to reach the mewling infant, who still bore traces of her blood?
Exhaustion hammered at her nerves and her thoughts, but fear pushed her forward. There was more chance for survival here than where she’d come from. A rock bit into the cracked sole of her shoe, and she picked up the stone, testing its size and weight.
She pressed her nose into the shawl, inhaled the musky scent that pierced her heart anew and resolutely placed the wrapped child on the wooden porch floor, a safe distance from the back door, yet in plain sight.
Without a lingering touch or a backward glance—by sheer force of will—she slipped back into the shadows, hobbled into the alley and steadied herself against the rough wooden side of a toolshed.
In the shadows of the porch roof, she couldn’t see the shawl or the remnant of her heart that lay within. The vigilant moon illuminated the glass-paned windows of the house. She stared heavenward for a full minute, garnering strength, purpose…courage. Then, with a prayer for accuracy and the last shred of stamina she possessed, she took aim and directed the rock with a skill born of desperation.
Breaking glass shattered the fragile silence of the night.
Her lacerated heart hammered against her ribs.
Her vision blurred, then cleared.
A yellow light came on in the house.
An eternal minute passed.
Another.
With an echoing creak, the back door opened. The long black barrel of a gun preceded a tall man dressed only in trousers. He took a wary step forward. Then stopped.
Cautiously, he nudged the bundle on his porch with the rifle barrel. The trembling girl who watched didn’t breathe, and her heart stopped.
Finally, miraculously, after glancing around, he knelt and touched the shadowy bundle with his free hand. His voice carried across the backyard, the words of astonishment indistinguishable. Another light came on behind him, and a robed woman appeared, silhouetted in its gentle radiance like a delivering angel.
As soon as the woman fell to her knees on the porch, the girl’s heart resumed a frantic beat. She turned and fled into the night, the silvery glow of the silent moon the only witness to the deed that would forever scar her soul.
Chapter One
Newton, Kansas, 1885
Up ahead, the locomotive whistled a long, urgent warning that roused the sluggish passengers. The chugging train swayed and slowed, and the tired travelers jerked forward in their seats. Stockmen, herders, businessmen and women gathered belongings and children and prepared to step from the car.
Elianna Parrish clung to the handle of her one small battered satchel, and allowed impatient travelers to move ahead. She was in no hurry. She’d been on a three-day pass and didn’t need to report back to her job at the Arcade Hotel until morning.
The melancholy feeling that always accompanied her on returning from a visit with her two younger brothers washed over her like the claustrophobic taint of unwashed bodies and cigar smoke that filled the railcar. Even though she traveled to see the boys each time she could get a pass from her job, she missed them terribly. The Heaths, who farmed a few miles outside Florence, tolerated her visits and put on as if they were actually fond of the boys.
Ellie knew better. For the past year, her brothers had been laborers, expected to perform the tasks of men while receiving stingy meals and lumpy bunks in the barn. Ellie’s high hopes of immediately getting them out of there had faded as quickly as the vaporous smoke from the train’s engine. She hadn’t been able to save enough to get herself a place, let alone provide for Benjamin and Flynn.
A portly man with a smelly stogie clamped between his stained teeth jostled her, and she stepped away.
Resentment built in her like a head of steam. Why, for once in their cheerless lives, couldn’t the boys have a decent home? They deserved to know the security of a home and family before they were completely grown.
Like her.
Passengers filed out ahead of Ellie, and she waited her turn patiently. Finally, the eager crowd moved forward, and she stepped out into the sun. A dry prairie wind kicked up dust that filled her nostrils and caked her teeth. She squinted and worked at keeping her dress down around her ankles.
Several men stood on the platform, scru
tinizing the arrivals. Ellie identified the fakirs, the Monte men and sneak thieves immediately, and skirted them while they made their moves on the businessmen who looked as though they had money lining their pockets.
“Come to see the city by gaslight, did you, little lady?” A man of medium height in a dusty brown suit cut off her departure.
“Pardon me,” she said, and attempted to move around.
“Here to see the elephant, hmm? A lovely young thing like you should have an escort.” Deliberately, he prevented her from passing.
She met his small gray eyes directly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my way.”
His eyes widened at her bravado. “Well, la-di-da, don’t she take the whole biscuit?”
The throng of passengers converged on the hotel restaurant, jostling Ellie and the man to one side. Once again, she tried to move around him.
“You’re gonna wish you was nice to me.”
Ellie stepped back in an attempt to move another direction, but succeeded only in stumbling. A sharp yelp pierced her ears and, too late, she glanced back. She’d stepped on a small dog. The leashed animal jerked away frantically, tugging its smartly dressed female owner off balance, and the three of them lurched off the edge of the platform.
Ellie landed with her bag under her side and her arm twisted beneath it. Pain shot up the limb, and she cried out.
A handful of concerned men leaped down from the wooden platform, and a porter came running.
“Oh, my gracious!” Sitting up from her delicately sprawled position and blinking at her surroundings, the pretty young woman fanned herself with a lace hankie. She cradled the dog to her generous breasts and spoke obnoxious baby talk into its panting face. “My darling sweet pea, are you awright?”
The whining dog darted its tongue in adoration over her chin.
Those who’d run to their aid stood mesmerized, watching the woman croon and the rodent-faced canine bathe her face.
If her arm hadn’t hurt so badly, Ellie would have laughed. Instead, she sat up. Racking pain shot through her arm, and she bit back a wail.
One of the gentlemen awoke from his reverie and transferred his attention. “Are you hurt, young lady?”
“My arm,” she replied with a grimace.
“Could be broke.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“We’d best get you to the doc’s.”
Ellie moved to stand and nearly fainted.
“Stay put,” the stranger said, extending his palm to stop her. “I’ll get my wagon.”
She nodded and gratefully leaned back against her lumpy bag. It took three grown men to assist the other young woman to her feet and lead her to the stairs. The sun beat down mercilessly, and the wind blew dust across Ellie’s face and clothing. Belatedly, she glanced around, already knowing she wouldn’t see hide or hair of the con man who’d brought on this whole fiasco.
Her arm throbbed. The scorching sun beat on her shoulders. Perspiration trickled between her breasts, and her blouse stuck to her itchy skin. She blinked back tears of frustration and pain.
After what seemed like an hour, the Good Samaritan returned and, with as little jostling as possible, assisted her into the back of his wagon.
A woman and small boy sat up on the seat beside him. He called to the team and guided the wagon through the rutted streets, reining in the horse before old Doc Thornton’s place.
The chalkboard beside the door had had Back at Three scribbled on it since Ellie had first come to Newton six months ago.
After banging on the door and shuffling from one foot to the other, the man stepped to the edge of the boardwalk and took stock of Ellie in his wagon bed. “Doc must be out.”
Passed out. Or down at the Side Track Saloon, more than likely. Ellie squinted down the dusty street. It was common knowledge that the old doctor spent part of his days and most of his nights with his belly pushed up against a poker table.
The woman on the wagon seat turned. “Take her to Doc Chaney’s, Clive.”
Clive squinted at Ellie. “You trust the young doc?”
Working in the Arcade Hotel, Ellie had overheard all the suspicions and mistrust directed toward Newton’s newest physician. His youth and modern practices gave the longtime Cottonwood Valley residents pause. Local gossip had it he’d even been unable to save his own wife’s life.
“Harvard University cost the man a king’s fortune, Clive. Least he can do is set the poor girl’s arm.”
Any doctor was better than none—or one who was drunk, Ellie reasoned. Every minute with this pain seemed like a day. She blotted a perspiring cheek with the sleeve of her uninjured arm. “I—” She held back a grimace. “I agree with your wife, sir.”
He vaulted back up onto the wagon. A few minutes later, they pulled alongside the boardwalk fronting Miss Eva Kirkpatrick’s Dressmaking Shop, and the man helped Ellie from the wagon and into the alley. A hanging wooden sign and a steep flight of stairs led to the doctor’s quarters above the seamstress’s shop. At the top of the stairs, Ellie gritted her teeth and feared she might faint.
Sunspots swam in her vision. Her head grew light. The stranger caught her before she tumbled down the flight of stairs.
Ellie’s arm throbbed. A monotonous pounding in her head matched it, beat for beat.
She cracked her dry eyes open a slit and discovered it was nearly sundown. An oil lamp had been lit near the bed where she lay, casting a golden glow on the brown-haired man who looked up from the thick book he’d been reading.
“Hello,” he said, a friendly smile lighting his comely features. “How are you feeling?” Lamplight glittered from the earpieces of the gold-framed spectacles he wore.
She looked away from his too-direct eyes. “My mouth tastes like I ate a pile of buffalo chips.”
He laughed, and the deep-chested sound almost made her want to smile, too. “I have some fresh water for you. Can you sit up?”
Before she could object, he slid a strong arm behind her back to help her sit, leaning in so close she could smell the starch in his white shirt and the sun-fresh scent of his hair. She fought the uneasy feeling that washed over her and made her want to scuttle away from him.
He propped a pillow behind her and released her. Her aching left arm hung uselessly in a sling, a plaster-of-paris cast holding her elbow in a bent position against her midriff. She glanced from her swollen fingers up to where the sleeves of her good traveling jacket and the blouse beneath had been cut away in an irreparable fashion. Mentally, she weighed the cost of making new ones against doing without.
“I had to cut them away to get to your arm.”
Realizing she’d been frowning, she ran her glance over the rest of her clothing. “My skirt and shoes have gotten your spread dusty.”
“Never mind that. Here.”
Ellie realized what she’d said, took note of her surroundings and, with a start, realized she was lying on a bed. The long narrow room held an examination table, glass-fronted cabinets for medicines and equipment, and a washstand and basin. A pleated curtain could be pulled across the back sleeping area where she lay. The creeping discomfort that had started earlier spread through her chest.
“You were out cold,” he explained, as though reading her mind. “I was afraid to leave you on the table for fear you’d wake up and fall off. Now drink this.”
Ellie drank thirstily and finished, touching her tongue to her lip. The doctor’s warm gaze rested on her mouth, and Ellie’s face grew hot. She brought her fingers to her cheek, noting the travel grime had been washed away.
“I took the liberty of washing your face and hands,” he explained.
Her cheeks burned at the thought of him touching her without her knowledge. Discomfort constricted her throat.
“Cleanliness is important,” he supplied.
“Yes, I know,” she managed to get out. Working in the dining hall, she’d had plenty of instruction on cleanliness.
“You have a nice, even break.
” He set the glass aside. “I heard a little about your accident from Clive Sanders.”
“Who?”
“The man who brought you in.”
“Oh.”
“He got you here before it swelled much. That was fortunate. Otherwise I’d have had to wait to put the cast on.”
“I’ll have to thank him. How long will I be like this?” she asked, dread sinking into her pores. Her disability wiped the other thoughts from her mind.
“In that cast? Several weeks at least. It will heal as good as new, I promise.”
The severity of the situation struck her full force. “But that’s impossible. I have to be at work tomorrow morning.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he countered.
“Oh, dear.”
“Is there someone to come for you? Parents? A husband?”
She shook her head.
“Where do you live? How will you get home?”
“I live in the dormitory behind the Arcade.”
“Ah. Well, I can see that you get there safely.”
Ellie’s meals and room were provided as part of her pay. What would happen if she couldn’t work? She had only small savings started toward the day when she and her brothers could live together again. Spending it on room and board until her arm healed would take it all.
Ellie closed her eyes and bolstered her purpose. She couldn’t afford to lose that money. She couldn’t afford to lose her job. The boys were depending on her to secure a place to live and bring them to Newton. She would work with one arm if she had to.
Cautiously, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and angled her hips to reach the toe of one shoe to the floor. “How much do I owe you?”
His brown-eyed glance traveled thoughtfully from her face to her arm and back again. “A dollar ought to cover the supplies and my time.”
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