Ellie jumped away from the doorway.
“Oh, my!” He groaned, and water splashed again.
Ellie’s heart pounded and she dashed to the hallway, pushed Nate’s pram into the parlor and closed the doors. She perched on one of the wing chairs, pressed her right hand to her hot cheek and glanced around.
Good Lord, she’d walked in on the doctor in his bath! He hadn’t known she’d looked upon him, but she knew it! Would he figure it out? Would he realize she’d hurried back there and seen him? How would she face him again?
She glanced around, working to still the panic in her chest and distract her thoughts. Her gaze caught on the volumes on the shelves. She still hadn’t read one of the doctor’s books.
Ellie concentrated on standing and walking. Blindly selecting a heavy book, she carried it to the cushioned window seat and settled it in her lap.
She drew a deep breath and opened the cover. A line drawing of a man’s bare chest and muscled upper arm sprang out at her. There were words on the page, too, but her already befuddled mind closed in on the drawing. It looked very much like the doctor’s chest, but this flat black-and-white drawing held none of the life or dimension his had. In reality the skin was sleek and smooth and appealing, with intriguing shadows and…
Ellie slammed the book shut.
Gray’s Anatomy.
She practically ran back to the shelf to replace the book. The image was burned on her mind forever. Covering her face with her hands, she could still see his supple skin and muscled shoulders. Concentrate, she told herself.
This time, she focused on studying the titles and, finding one that seemed innocuous enough, she settled down to read.
There were no pictures, and the story was about a man who took a voyage on a whaling vessel. After a time she lit a lamp and curled up in one of the comfortable upholstered chairs. She’d been reading for hours by the time she looked up and realized how late it had grown.
She used the privy and closed up the house. The doctor had dumped the bathing tub, and it stood upended beside the back door. Avoiding thoughts of him, she fed Nate, then carried him upstairs to his cradle. Once he was settled for the night, she changed into her nightgown.
There was no lock on the door, so as she’d done the previous nights, she dragged a straight-backed chair from the corner and wedged it beneath the knob.
Ellie climbed into the bed and pulled the sheet up to her neck. A bed. Sheets. Regular meals. Water and soap and books. Numerous things she would never take for granted. They were worth the anxiety produced by having a man so near. Weren’t they?
It was just this one night that she had to stay near him. After this she’d sleep in the room he’d rented, but for now there was no choice. The doctor was too tired to care for Nate if he should wake tonight. Ellie had everything under control. And she had nothing to fear from Dr. Chaney. She was earning her pay by caring for Nate.
The baby woke once as he had the previous nights, and Ellie carried him down to the kitchen to prepare him a bottle. She had to lay him on the rug while she lit the lamp, and he cried in earnest. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, coming back to bend and rub his tummy. “I’ll pick you up as soon as I get your bottle ready.”
“I’ll take him.”
Ellie’s heart flew up into her throat at the voice behind her. She let out a startled cry and straightened.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the doctor said, moving closer.
Ellie backed away, and his dark gaze followed her. Wearing a full-length shiny dark robe that was belted at his waist, he picked up his son and looked at her with his forehead creasing in puzzlement. “Go ahead,” he said. “Prepare the bottle while I hold him.”
Ellie jerked herself into action, stoking the fire and warming milk with trembling fingers.
“Do you want me to take him?” she asked.
“I’ll feed him. You go back to bed.”
She placed the bottle on the table, rather than hand it to him. “His cradle is in the room I’m using.”
“He can sleep with me until morning.”
She nodded and moved to leave.
“Thank you, Ellie.”
She paused in the doorway.
“Not just for this,” he said from behind her. “But for every day since the fire.”
“I—I haven’t done much really.”
“You’ve given me peace of mind where my son is concerned. That’s a lot in my book.”
“Well…” She wasn’t sure how to respond. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had thanked her. “You’re welcome, I guess.” But she felt as if she was the one who should be thanking him. She’d been on the edge of hunger and homelessness again, until he’d offered a solution.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said.
Talk about what? She ran upstairs and barricaded the bedroom door, sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark.
Ellie glanced at the empty cradle in the darkness, finding she missed Nate’s company.
She sat for several minutes trying to remember for sure how old she was. She was certainly old enough to handle her life and have a conversation with a man. She wasn’t a helpless child any longer. She wasn’t a young girl with no means to help or protect herself.
She was an adult. And as an adult she could work and provide for herself and make choices about her life. And she’d made plenty of choices. She chose not to enslave herself to a man. She chose not to bring any more defenseless children into the world. She chose to earn a clean, honest living and make a way to provide a home for her brothers. She had decided that long ago and nothing was going to get in her way.
If fate had thrown a curve at her with this broken arm, she’d just have to make the best of it and turn it into something she could use to her advantage. And that was exactly what she was doing.
Dr. Chaney was paying her more than she’d made at the Arcade. And the work was infinitely easier and her sleeping area private.
Ellie could put up with a lot to earn these wages and make some progress toward her goal.
What she couldn’t do was allow herself to do anything reckless or impulsive, like trust this caring man or accidentally answer any of his innocent questions about her past. It would be easy to become comfortable here, to allow a seed of hope to bloom in her heart. Her only hope lay in keeping her secrets and guarding her carefully tended barriers.
Her future, and that of her brothers, depended on it.
Chapter Four
Ellie woke with a start. Sunlight streamed through the crack in the rose-patterned curtains and warmed the mattress where she lay. She leaped from the bed, glanced at the chair still beneath the doorknob and awkwardly washed with the tepid water in the basin. She had to face her employer this morning…after seeing him in his bath the night before.
She dressed in a plain navy skirt and white shirtwaist, and pulled on her serviceable black boots. She concentrated on admiring the smooth, well-polished leather. They were the first pair of shoes she’d ever worn that hadn’t belonged to someone else first, and she never got dressed in the morning without being thankful for her job at the Arcade. The pay afforded her personal effects she’d never before owned.
She’d worn a threadbare gray union suit beneath her clothing until she was thirteen, when it had become too small. After Ellie had gone without for a week, her mother had begrudgingly released an old pair of drawers and a chemise.
Sometimes the church ladies had given her and her brothers cast-off clothing and occasionally someone anonymously left a bag at their door. Nobody seemed to think of stockings, however, and she’d worn men’s socks most of her life.
She’d had a new dress once, but she couldn’t even think about that dress without the nightmares returning.
Ellie struggled one-handedly with her bootlaces, finally tucking the loose ties into themselves, and scolded herself for wallowing in bleak memories when she’d already slept too late.
She wrapped her hair into a kno
t and secured it in the less than tidy fashion she’d made do with since her accident. The mirror reflected a young woman she barely knew. The new Ellie.
A phony.
The real Ellie was still in there. Still as frightened and alone as ever. But she was no longer weak, and she would never be weak again.
She removed the chair and hurried out the door and down the stairs. The smell of coffee wrapped her in its welcoming morning cloak, and Ellie hurried to the kitchen.
He was seated at the table, a cup of coffee and an empty plate before him. “Morning, Ellie.”
Nate was secured in the high chair, and she observed the streak of syrup that had crusted in the front of his hair. “Morning.”
“We’ve already eaten,” he said unnecessarily. “There are buckwheat cakes in the oven.”
That was surprising considering the amount on Nate and the floor.
Dr. Chaney raised a brow at her expression and, after glancing at his son, grinned and brushed at the sticky syrup. “He grabs at every bite.”
Warmth crept up her cheeks. Their conversation seemed so normal. Was it possible he didn’t realize she’d seen him in the tub? She took a few cakes and found a fork. “I know. I give him something to hold while I feed him.”
“That’s very clever,” the doctor said appreciatively.
She shrugged and took a seat at the other end of the table, stealing a glance at him in his fresh white shirt and string tie. She could forget. She was good at that.
A lovely resonating chime sounded, startling Ellie into dropping her spoon.
Caleb glanced at her and stood. “I’ll get it.”
Get what? She watched him leave the room and hurry toward the front of the house.
Voices accompanied his when he returned a minute later.
A tall, brown-haired man and an elegantly dressed matronly woman preceded him into the kitchen.
Ellie folded her hands in her lap.
The couple studied her curiously. She knew her clothes were nice, and she had taken care with her hair. There was no reason for the sense of inadequacy and shame that flooded her, but the feelings were strong and never far from the surface.
“Ellie, these are my parents. Mother and Father, this is Ellie Parrish. She’s Nate’s new caretaker.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Ellie said, standing and feeling out of place.
“You’ve found someone to stay with Nate?” the woman asked, looking Ellie over. “You haven’t been out to the ranch all week.”
“I was taking care of my patient, Mother. Remember the woman who was burned?”
“Yes, we heard she’d died,” the gentleman said, and then to his credit, he cast his son a sympathetic look.
The woman moved over to Nate’s high chair. “Hello, sweetheart. Have you missed Grandmama? Goodness, whatever is on this child’s head?”
“Just a little syrup,” Caleb replied.
Ellie hurried for a rag to wash the baby, and the woman reached to take it from her. “I’ll do it.”
Ellie stepped back and watched. The woman obviously thought Ellie was incapable of caring properly for her grandchild.
“Miss Parrish, you haven’t touched your breakfast,” Caleb said, addressing her more formally in front of his parents. “Please sit and eat.”
Keeping her gaze lowered, she returned to her chair and picked up the fork.
The doctor poured coffee for his parents. Some stilted conversation about Nate and the weather followed.
“Where are you from, Miss Parrish?” Caleb’s mother asked finally.
“I worked at the Arcade Hotel until I broke my arm,” she replied and took a bite.
“I see,” the woman said, though her tone revealed she didn’t. “Do your parents live nearby?”
The pancake tasted like paste. She swallowed. “No. My parents are gone.”
Could be true for all she knew. Her mother was dead, for a fact. Her father might as well have been, if he wasn’t. She’d never known him. If he’d been anything like Ben’s and Flynn’s fathers or any of her mother’s other nighttime callers, she wouldn’t have wanted to, either.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Chaney said politely, her curiosity obviously unsatisfied. She was too polite to pry any further, however, for which Ellie was exceedingly grateful.
The woman turned her attention to Nate while Caleb started a conversation with his father.
When she was sure her observation wouldn’t be noticed, Ellie studied the couple. Mrs. Chaney laughed at something her husband said, touching his arm in a familiar gesture.
He gave her a warm look Ellie couldn’t quite interpret.
She had noticed couples in the Arcade’s dining hall who interacted with each other in this manner. And she’d wondered if it was superficial…if, in the privacy of their homes, they cursed and fought. When he scowled at something she said, Caleb’s mother didn’t appear afraid of her husband. She laughed and poked a finger in his broad chest. He was a big man. As tall and broad-shouldered as his son. As capable of overpowering or hurting a woman.
The air caught in Ellie’s throat.
She forced herself to breathe evenly.
Caleb’s father didn’t look the least bit angry. In fact, the look in his blue eyes when he took his wife’s hand was tender, reaching a vulnerable spot inside Ellie.
She looked back at her plate and ordered her thoughts back into line. She made it a habit to keep her feelings neutral.
“Will you come for dinner tonight?” Mrs. Chaney asked her son. “Miss Parrish may join us.”
Ellie raised her gaze to the woman’s questioning face. “Oh, oh, no, I—”
“We really need to get Miss Parrish settled in her room at the boardinghouse,” Caleb said, coming to her rescue.
“Sunday then,” Mrs. Chaney said. “You have no excuse for not coming to Sunday dinner.”
“Of course,” he replied. “What would I do on a Sunday if I didn’t come out to the ranch? You can ride with us,” Caleb said, turning to Ellie. “You’ll enjoy it. Mother has a wonderful cook.”
Goodness, the woman employed a cook?
“It’s settled,” Caleb said with finality. “We’ll be there.”
“See you then, darling,” Mrs. Chaney said to Nate and kissed his head.
Mr. Chaney nodded politely at Ellie, and she gave him a hesitant smile. Caleb walked his parents to the door.
Whatever would she do? She didn’t know the least thing about how to behave at dinner in someone’s home. Would one of her work skirts be appropriate?
“You two have an enjoyable day,” Caleb said, returning from seeing his parents off and kissing his son. “I’ll see you around five, unless I have an emergency.”
Ellie nodded mutely and watched him leave.
Nate was due for a bath, so she warmed water and washed him in the enamel basin. He loved it, kicking and waving his arms until she was soaked. The entire time she dressed him and cleaned up the mess, she considered the upcoming dinner. As she laid Nate down for his nap, she remembered the cookbooks she’d leafed through, especially the one by the Methodist Episcopal Church ladies that had a page on table manners.
She’d set tables at the Arcade, but had never eaten in the dining room. Would the Chaneys use the same table settings, with the elaborately folded napkins?
She found the book and sat at the kitchen table, thumbing through to the chapter.
Nothing is more to be deplored than ignorance of the conventionalities of the table.
Yes, and surely they would all recognize her confusion. Oh, she didn’t want to do this!
An unwritten law covers every detail, and those accustomed to good society are themselves probably unaware of conformity to any special standard, but imitate unconsciously those with whom they habitually associate.
She could do that. She could imitate those around her.
The table is the touchstone of manners, and there a blunder is a crime. At a dinner to which guests are bidden, the ge
ntlemen assist in seating the ladies before taking their own places.
She’d seen the men at the Arcade assist their wives in this manner.
When seated, the body should be about a foot from the table.
Ellie adjusted herself in the chair and gauged the distance between her waist and the wooden edge.
The napkin is next unfolded to the half of its amplitude, and laid across the lap. No elegance of attire can be an excuse for tucking it about the person in any way.
She read on, memorizing, practicing, getting out a table setting and a napkin and going through the motions of a pretend meal. It would be good for her to learn this. She could teach Benjamin and Flynn when they finally got to live together.
All day Ellie spent her free time reading the pages in the cookbooks that referred to manners. She scoured Caleb’s library for a book on etiquette, but found nothing and laughed at herself. Why would the doctor need a book like that? Perhaps she could take Nate for a walk to the library the following day.
Caleb arrived home when he said he would. Ellie had used the cookbook to prepare him a meal of canned chicken and dressing. He looked at the table she’d set.
“I didn’t hire you to cook for me, too. I don’t expect a meal ready every day when I get home.”
“I’m here. The food’s here. I might as well do it.”
“Do you enjoy cooking?”
She’d never thought about it. She’d scraped and scrambled for every bite that she and her brothers ever placed in their mouths. Preparing food had only been something a person did to make it edible. It was part of survival.
Here cooking was…enjoyable. “Yes. I do.”
“Lucky for me. And even luckier that you’re good at it.”
Ellie blushed and filled his plate.
He stood beside his chair, noting the single place setting. “Aren’t you eating with us?”
The Doctor's Wife Page 5
