Ellie had often wondered, sometimes raged at a questionable God for allowing babies to be born to people who didn’t want them, who didn’t love them or take care of them.
Nate finished the bottle, and she carried him to a chair and sat him up in her lap. He leaned against her breast contentedly, and she supported his back with her cast. She recalled nights of listening to her brothers’ bellies growl with hunger while she ignored the gnawing, hollow ache in hers. Here was a child who would never have to experience hunger or neglect. Ellie envied him. She rejoiced for him. He burped and she chuckled.
Dr. Chaney arrived, out of breath and looking more tired than ever. He held out a key, but her good arm was filled with his son, so he placed it on the nearby desk. “Your room is on the second floor at Mrs. Ned’s boardinghouse. Do you know where that is?”
She shook her head.
“It’s just across from the park on Broadway.”
“I can find it.”
“We’ll have to arrange for someone to help you carry your things over. How is Joanna?”
“She didn’t make a sound. I checked on her a couple of times, but I didn’t know what to do for her.”
“She’s sedated.” He moved to the other end of the room to check on the motionless figure. “I’ve done everything that can be done.” He glanced back at Ellie. “I suppose we should get some dinner.”
“Dr. Chaney—” Ellie began.
“Caleb, please.”
She stood and carried the baby to the end of the cot where the woman lay, frightfully still and silent. “Why don’t I just go ahead and take Nate to your house? I can stay with him until you come home—whenever that is. It will be one less thing for you to worry over. I promise you he’ll be safe with me.”
He studied Ellie briefly, and a frown crossed his weary features. Was he having second thoughts about her? She swallowed against the fear that he would change his mind. “Have you eaten?” he asked.
His words eased her worry and amazed her. His thoughtfulness in the midst of his weighty problems caught her by surprise. She had to gather her thoughts. “I—I’ll stop and get something on my way and I’ll have something sent for you,” she said at last.
He nodded gratefully. “Thank you. It would be a relief for me to think of nothing but taking care of my patient. I have no idea when I’ll be able to leave here. If you should need anything, I have accounts at Swensen’s Grocery, Hintz’s Bakery and Dymond and Arnold’s Drugstore. There is food in the pantry. A young fellow delivers ice each morning.” He studied his son, then glanced back at Ellie. “Do you know how to milk a goat?”
“I’ll manage it.” She’d milked cows and goats in the dark of night, stealing milk for her brothers.
He reached into his pocket and brought out a leather thong, slipping off another key. He went for the one he’d placed on the table, used his strip of leather to tie them together, and handed them to her.
“Head north up Main Street. When you get to Seventh, it’s the third house to the east, on the north side of the street. Mrs. McKinley is my neighbor, and she’ll help you if you need anything.”
His fingertips brushed her palm as he placed the keys in her hand. She wrapped her fingers around the keys and stepped away quickly. “We’ll be just fine.”
“Thank you, Ellie.”
She lowered her gaze from his uncomfortably. “You’re welcome.”
He packed a few things into a bag. She slung it over her shoulder and tucked the keys safely in her reticule. He took Nate from her and hugged him gently.
The vision of the tall, strong man embracing the baby with such tenderness affected Ellie in a disturbing manner she couldn’t have explained. For one thing she’d never seen a man show affection for a child before. And for another, the only treatment she’d ever received from the male gender ranged from indifference to cruelty.
His enormous palm swallowed Nate’s fuzzy head and he pressed his lips to the boy’s hair.
Ellie’s stomach quivered.
He raised his gaze and met hers.
Her heart skipped a series of beats and her breath caught. Embarrassment blistered her cheeks.
Studying her openly, he handed Nate back. Ellie carefully avoided the doctor’s eyes.
“Wait a minute,” he said.
Her heart thudded uncomfortably.
He opened a cupboard and produced a cap, which he tied on Nate’s head while Ellie studied the wall. He was so close, she could smell the outdoor scent of his hair and the medicine he’d been using on his patient.
“There,” he said. His voice startled her, and she felt foolish.
She turned to the door quickly and carried the baby down the outside stairs. Nate squinted at the sky from beneath the hat’s brim.
Relief flooded Ellie. Her plan to get away from the office and the doctor had been successful. She’d worked with the hotel manager and several of the male kitchen helpers at the Arcade, but she hadn’t been in closed quarters with them, nor had she suffered their company without others present.
“Well, let’s get your father some food and then find your house,” she said and set off at a brisk pace. At the Arcade, she ordered a meal sent to the doctor’s office, then continued on her way.
The third house on Seventh Street was a lovely two-story, the open shutters and the front door painted a fresh bright green against whitewashed siding. Fragrant red roses climbed an arbor trellis that arched above the gate Ellie passed through. Did this grand house really belong to the young doctor?
She approached slowly, climbing the porch stairs while glancing about. She fitted the key in the lock and the door opened silently. The scent of beeswax drifted to her. The dim, cool interior beckoned. Ellie stepped into the foyer.
She’d never felt so out of place. She couldn’t remember ever being in a house this grand. The only home she’d ever visited had been the Heaths’ rustic farmhouse, and she’d never been invited past the kitchen.
A small foyer held a highly polished piece of walnut furniture that served as a bench, mirror and hat rack. Ellie blinked at her reflection holding Nate, feeling as though she had entered a castle.
On a desk inside the next room she noted a scattering of envelopes addressed to Dr. Chaney, which confirmed that this was the right place.
Upholstered furniture had been grouped around a brick fireplace, and the flower-papered walls were lined with shelves of books. In awe, Ellie studied the titles on the spines. She’d been in the library in Florence, but she hadn’t known people actually owned so many books.
Perhaps if she was very careful with them and had all of her other chores done, Dr. Chaney wouldn’t mind terribly if she sat in here and read some of his books.
In the kitchen, she admired the nearly new cast-iron stove with a well for water and a shiny copper kettle atop a burner. On another wall, an enamel pan beneath a pump held unwashed dishes. Ellie placed Nate on a braided rug long enough to raise the pump handle a few times. She stared in amazement at the burst of water that gurgled and spurted across the soiled plates and pans.
The only indoor pump she’d seen had been in the hotel. What lavishness! The doctor must be wealthy beyond imagination!
An oak chest with heavy steel hinges caught her attention next. She opened the latch and cool air drifted across her midsection and up her face! Ellie reached in and touched the ready supply of butter and milk, finding them surprisingly cold. Amazed, she closed the door securely.
She picked up Nate and investigated a well-stocked pantry, a dining room without furniture, and then, with her shoulders and good arm aching, she made her way up the open front staircase.
Caleb’s bedroom was easy to find. A simple brass headboard stood against the wall, a faded quilt adorning the unmade bed, which had huge coil springs and a thick mattress. A hat and jacket hung on wall hooks, and a new black leather satchel sat against a wall.
Ellie spotted the cradle and walked toward it. The massive head-and footboards were carve
d with chains of spiraling ivy. Ellie studied the masterfully crafted wood.
“My goodness, Nate. You must sleep like a prince in this cradle.” She placed him in his cradle, noting his damp clothing, and stretched her aching back and arm. “We’d better find you some dry clothes.”
A nearby chest of drawers held crisply starched shirts and celluloid collars. Ellie shut the drawer quickly and opened another. To her relief, she found a pile of delicately embroidered garments with neatly pressed hems and ribbons. “You even dress like a prince,” she said. “Prince Nate. Is your name Nathan? Nathaniel? I’ll bet it’s Nathaniel.” Getting his clothing off with one hand wasn’t too difficult, but it took some maneuvering to fasten the pins and get his flailing arms into sleeves.
He gurgled cheerfully throughout the process, and Ellie had to grin. She was grateful when he fell asleep, and she could explore the rest of the house. Washing the dishes was a challenge, but pumping the water right there was such a luxury that she heated water both for washing and rinsing and had the job done quickly. By the time she’d set the spacious kitchen straight and carried in more wood for the stove, Nate was awake and howling.
She changed and fed him, then tugged a rocking chair out onto the porch where she sat and rocked him. She would get herself something to eat soon. The sweet scent of roses wafted across the porch, and Ellie closed her eyes and listened to the birds in the hedge and the sound of the train in the distance.
At the Arcade, the girls would be setting up for the arriving passengers, and the overbearing kitchen manager would be shouting directions and criticizing the table settings. Ellie felt as though she’d been given a lovely gift by being able to enjoy the evening, sitting here and resting. Yesterday her broken arm had been the worst thing that could’ve happened…today, well today it almost seemed like a favor—as long she ignored the dull throb.
Maybe this wasn’t going to turn out so badly after all. As long as she could keep her distance from the man who had hired her, everything was going to work out just fine. She and Nate were going to get along fabulously.
More tired and discouraged than he’d ever been in his life, Caleb made arrangements with the undertaker and waited for the man to come for Joanna’s body.
Three days. And during that time he’d never really had any hope. In his heart he knew no doctor could have saved her. She’d been too far gone. But he’d dreaded her death, not only because of the loss of a life, but more selfishly, because of the reaction of the townspeople.
Dr. Chaney had lost another patient.
After Joanna was gone, he wiped all the surfaces with disinfectant, cleaned his instruments, stripped the bed and carried the huge pile of laundry down the block.
Wearily, he walked home, regret and frustration churning in the pit of his hungry belly. Doctors couldn’t save all their patients. People died; it was a fact of life. His treatment hadn’t killed her. He had eased her suffering and made her death merciful, but he drew no comfort from those facts.
Fresh guilt ate at his already depleted conscience. He hadn’t seen his son for three days. Caleb glanced up at his house.
The brick walkway and stairs had been recently swept. The front door stood open to the late afternoon breeze, and through the screen wafted the smell of freshly baked bread. His mouth watered and his stomach growled.
An odd, welcoming feeling settled around him. For months he’d come home to a closed and empty house; this was the first time since he’d bought the place that it seemed as if someone lived here.
He entered the foyer and listened to the unfamiliar, but welcome sounds of habitation. A feminine voice beckoned him to the kitchen.
“Hello?” he called.
Ellie glanced over, her wide gaze startled, and recognition flared. “Dr. Chaney!”
Nate had been tied into the wooden high chair with a white dish towel, and the girl was standing on a chair, wiping the fronts of the cupboards.
When he saw Caleb, his son grinned and banged his palms against the wooden tray.
Immediately Caleb untied the knot that held him and raised the baby into his arms. He smelled good—healthy, like milk and baby and life. Caleb kissed his head and laid his cheek against Nate’s soft hair, regretting the time spent apart. Nate needed parents. For the thousandth time, he suffered distressing thoughts of this precious boy living day after day without a mother.
“Your—your patient?” Ellie asked, carefully climbing down from the chair.
Caleb carried Nate to the open back door and gazed out across the lawn. Soon everyone would know. “She died this afternoon.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Me, too.”
“I baked bread,” she said. “And there’s ham.”
“That sounds good.” He kissed Nate again, placed him back in his chair and got the ham from the icebox.
“Let me do that for you,” she said, bringing a loaf of bread to the table.
“Which one of us has two good arms?” he asked, and sliced a hunk of ham.
She backed away, and he felt her watching him fix his meal. It seemed strange to have her there, in his house, in his kitchen, but her presence was comforting, especially knowing that he needed to sleep and that she’d be here for Nate. Nate looked fed and happy. She’d obviously been managing quite well.
“Have you had any problems?” he asked, sitting and biting into the sandwich he’d made.
“Not really,” she said.
“You milked the goat with one hand?”
She nodded.
Her puzzling yet appealing combination of strength and vulnerability intrigued him. That couldn’t have been easy. “The place looks cleaner than I left it,” he said. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Nate’s not very demanding,” she replied, turning and rinsing out the rag she’d been using. “I’ve had more time than I’m used to.”
“How long have you been at the Arcade?”
“Only a few months.”
“What did you do before that?”
She hung the cloth over a wooden rack to dry. “I—um—I worked in Florence.”
“Doing what?”
“The same things I’m doing now.”
Did she have a hotel job there? he wondered. He realized he was wolfing down his food and paused.
“Would you like a bath?” she asked.
Caleb glanced down at his rumpled clothing. He had changed his shirt once, but other than that he’d only washed his hands and face. She’d obviously noticed. “I would love a bath.”
Immediately she started pumping water.
“You can’t lift that,” he said, getting up but not wanting to step too close to her in case he smelled as bad as he felt. She had a kettle nearly full.
“I can as long as I don’t get it too heavy,” she replied, and moved it to the stove.
He sat back down and watched her heat the water and pump more. He carried the full pails and dumped them into the metal tub on the enclosed back porch. Each time he came for the water, she stepped well away from him and waited for him to perform the task. Once she had the kettle boiling, he carried that, too.
“This is warm enough,” he said. “Just enough to take the chill off.”
She backed away. “I’ll take Nate for a walk.”
“There’s a pram in the carriage house,” he told her. “The key’s on the peg by the door here.” He pointed.
Deliberately walking around him, Ellie took the key and removed her apron as she approached Nate. He must really smell bad, Caleb thought sheepishly.
She left and he collected toweling and a slab of soap and removed his clothing. The water felt wonderful to his tired body. He soaked and concentrated on relaxing his muscles and not thinking about the past few days. He’d done his best, and he would have to take satisfaction in that. There was nothing more he could have done. Nothing anyone could have done. If only his best had been enough.
Ellie pushed Nate in his handsome bl
ack baby carriage, chastising herself. It had never crossed her mind, after the day she brought Nate to the house, that the doctor would have little opportunity to leave his office even long enough to eat or order food. She hadn’t considered his situation, and she now regretted her lack of concern. She should have seen that he had meals sent regularly. She should have taken him clean clothing.
The late afternoon breeze grew cool. As Ellie strolled, she turned her thoughts to familiarizing herself with the nearby streets and homes.
Nate fell asleep and she grew tired, as well. She pushed him home. A woman waved from the porch next door and Ellie waved back hesitantly before maneuvering the pram up the porch stairs backward and entering the silent house. She stopped and listened.
The doctor must have gone up to bed. She’d taken the liberty of moving Nate’s cradle into a bedroom with her the first night. Dr. Chaney would have an uninterrupted sleep.
First, she’d see to dumping the tub of water. She’d done it for herself the night before, so she knew she could handle it. She left the baby sleeping in his pram in the hallway, and hurried through the kitchen.
Ellie stepped onto the back porch and drew up short, her breath catching in her chest. Dr. Chaney lay fast asleep in what had to be cold water, his dark hair washed and air-dried in dishevelment, his chest and shoulders bare above the rim of the metal tub.
Ellie stumbled back into the kitchen and flattened herself against the wall, her heart pounding, embarrassment warming her face and neck. She took several calming breaths and considered what to do.
She couldn’t leave him there, could she? How could she go about her evening knowing there was a naked man in the tub? Would he catch cold? She should do something, she was sure. But what?
“Dr.—” she began, but her voice didn’t work. “Dr. Chaney?” she called tentatively. No response. “Dr. Chaney?” Louder that time.
“M-m-what?” he replied, his voice low.
“Sir, I think you’d better get out of the tub and dry off. It’s late.”
Water splashed.
The Doctor's Wife Page 4
