Touch of Tenderness (Nurses of New York Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I can imagine.” What Libby couldn’t imagine was being on a train for six entire days. The thought was enough to make her want to scream—she hated feeling trapped, and trains invariably had that effect on her. “I have some news of my own, and it might help the time pass by more quickly. For you, that is—I don’t know how to help your parents.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  She leaned forward and clasped her hands on her lap. “Dr. Wentworth has given me permission to bring you over to Dr. Russell’s house, where I live. There’s a beautiful piano, and I found someone who can help you write your song onto sheet music.”

  Mr. Franklin went so still that for a moment, she thought she’d offended him. But then he spoke, his voice raw with emotion. “You . . . did all that for me?”

  “I did. It wasn’t terribly difficult, so I hope you don’t think I went through a lot of trouble for it.”

  “No, no, it’s amazing. I can’t believe you were so thoughtful. Thank you, Miss Green . . . er, what is your Christian name? This kind of generosity—we’re friends now, lifelong friends, and I must know what to call you.”

  She smiled. “I’m Libby.”

  “Libby.” He repeated it after her in his mellow voice. “I’m Lewis.”

  She reached out and clasped his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lewis.”

  He squeezed her hand in return. “Now, not that I’m rushing through the moment, but when can we go find this piano?”

  “How about this evening? I’m not sure when the man who can write sheet music will be available, but if nothing else, you can play the piano to your heart’s content.” She paused, suddenly embarrassed. “You can play the piano without your eyesight, can’t you? I don’t play an instrument, you see, so I’m not sure how all these things work.”

  “I play with my eyes closed sometimes even when I have all my senses about me. It allows me to connect with the pieces on a deeper level, as well as blocking out unwanted distractions.”

  Libby smiled. “I’ve always wondered about that expression. Just what would a wanted distraction be?”

  “Well, if someone came in with a piece of warm apple pie, I certainly wouldn’t be upset.”

  They both laughed, then Libby said, “My shifts usually end at ten o’clock, but this week, I get done at six. I’ll be by then.”

  “Is it far to your house?”

  “Oh, no. It’s just down the block. If you trust me to lead you, we can walk.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’d love a chance to stretch my legs.”

  Libby stood. “All right, then. I’ll see you at six.”

  He gave a little wave and grinned. “And I’ll see you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lewis was sitting on the chair next to his bed when Libby arrived to get him, and a smile split his face as she crossed the room. “You can’t know how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “I’m sure I can’t, but your smile says a lot. Are you ready to go?”

  “I am. I believe I’ve been ready for a half an hour or more.”

  Libby had him place his hand on her shoulder, then walked slowly down the hall toward the stairs. “This is where things get tricky. Going down can be more challenging than going up when it comes to staying balanced, but hold tight to the rail, and you should be fine.”

  He negotiated each step without a problem.

  When they walked outside, he paused and took a deep breath. “Oh, that cool air feels so good. Can we move my bed out here? The smell of the flowers alone is enough to convince me.”

  Libby laughed. “I wouldn’t have any objection, but I think Dr. Wentworth might worry about his lack of ability to sterilize the great outdoors.”

  “Oh, I don’t think nature needs our help to improve. It’s perfect just as it is. So, which way?”

  Libby guided Lewis the short distance to Dr. Russell’s home, taking small steps and making sure he knew about each potential stumbling hazard. She’d come this way often enough that she knew every tree branch and every bump in the path.

  “So, you live at Dr. Russell’s house?” Lewis asked as they drew near.

  “That’s right. He turned it into a boarding school of sorts. He and his nurse, Miss Cantrell, instruct us in the mornings, and then we get our practical experience in the afternoons and evenings.”

  “It sounds like a pleasant way to learn, much more comfortable than staying in a hotel or a dormitory.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it. All right, we’re here at the front steps. Here’s the railing.”

  Once at the door, Libby ushered him inside and then into the parlor, taking him directly to the piano. The look on his face when he sat on the bench was one of reverence, and she wished whole-heartedly that his eyes weren’t bandaged so she could see the joy in them. He ran his fingers over the keys like a whisper, then began to play. It was a haunting melody, not the one he’d been humming before, but something nostalgic, with a hint of yearning. She sat in the chair closest the piano and allowed her mind to wander, soaking it in.

  When the song came to an end, she blinked a few times and saw that all the other residents of the house had drifted into the room, including Mrs. Everett, the housekeeper.

  “I’ve never heard anything like that in all my days,” Mrs. Everett said, wiping her eyes on the edge of her apron. “I tell you what, young man—you play another hour so it has time to bake, and I’ll go whip up your favorite dessert for you to eat when you’re done. What will it be?”

  Lewis grinned. “Would you happen to have the makings for apple pie?”

  “Would I?” Mrs. Everett scoffed. “It would take a famine and a drought both to keep me from having those on hand. Coming right up.”

  Libby hid her smile. Mrs. Everett was a dear.

  “Where did you learn to play?” Phoebe asked, scooting to the edge of her seat.

  “My aunt taught me the basics, and I sort of tinkered around from there,” Lewis replied. “We have a piano in our home—not typical, considering we’re homesteaders in Colorado, but my mother inherited it from her grandmother, and there you have it.”

  “Who is your favorite composer?” Millie asked.

  Lewis held up his hands. “Wait, wait,” he said with a laugh. “Let me catch up. Just how many people are in this room? I’m at a disadvantage.”

  Libby felt guilty for not making the introductions sooner. “Over on your left, you have Laura and Tess. Then next to them are Meg and Phoebe. Miss Cantrell, our teacher, is directly across from you. Then beside her are Millie and Jeanette, and then to my right is Sophie, and then there’s me.”

  “I had no idea. I’m sorry, ladies.” He rose and gave a half bow. “I’m Lewis Franklin. Libby is one of my nurses over at the hospital.”

  “We’re glad you could join us, Mr. Franklin,” Miss Cantrell said. “Miss Green told us you’d be eager to play the piano, but I don’t think we realized what a treat this would be for us.”

  “I appreciate it more than I can say. Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear? Anything popular I might know?”

  “I’d like to hear more of what you just played,” Tess said. “Did you compose it? Have you written more?”

  “I did, and I have. I’m sure there are other things you’d rather listen to, though—I’m not trained or experienced.”

  The girls all chimed in, protesting, and he laughed. “All right, I’ll play you the very first song I ever wrote. Then you can tell me all the ways in which my father was right when he told me to give it up.”

  This tune wasn’t as polished as the first had been, but Libby thought it was beautiful nonetheless. Meg was probably the most musical out of the group, and her eyes were thoughtful. “You have a lot of talent, Mr. Franklin,” she said as the last notes faded out. “I’m sure my brother will be more than happy to help you write down your compositions, and I wonder . . . well, I can’t speak for him, but I wonder if he’d be willing to introduce you to some friends of his
who are well connected. When he meets you, he’ll decide for himself, of course.”

  “I’m grateful for any help he can give me, even if it’s just a word of encouragement,” Lewis replied. “Now, what would you like to hear next? I’m in the mood for something fun.”

  He began a light tune that made Libby want to get up and dance. Gracious, how long had it been since she’d even gone to a party? This was the second time in as many days that she’d been reminded how much she’d given up for her studies. Her mind raced back to what Dr. Wentworth had said. If she were to go to medical school, she’d be giving up even more . . .

  It was silly, really. She had no reason to become a doctor. But why did her mind keep circling around to it, and why did she have to keep talking herself out of it?

  She was probably just flattered that Dr. Wentworth thought so highly of her. Many of the doctors she worked with thought themselves far superior to their nurses, and didn’t bother to listen to their opinions at all. Dr. Wentworth considered what she had to say, and that was sure to turn her head, as well as the fact that in many ways, he reminded Libby of her father. Who wouldn’t want to be praised by someone they looked up to? That must be it—her ego plus her homesickness. Just excuses, not real reasons to turn from her life’s plan and pursue something that would probably end in heartache and regrets.

  As Lewis finished another song, Mrs. Everett bustled in carrying a tray. “Now, this is hot, so be careful, everyone,” she said as she set the tray on the table in the center of the room. “Mr. Franklin gets the first piece. Here you are, sir.”

  He took the plate and grinned. “This smells like home. Thank you so much.”

  “Your mother makes apple pie, does she?”

  “She does, with the apples my father grows in the orchard.”

  “Well, I can’t guarantee you that mine will taste anything like hers, but I do hope you find it edible.”

  He took a bite, then another. “It’s probably just as well that my mother won’t be here for several more days or she’d take a paddle to me for enjoying this so much. Thank you. I haven’t had anything this good since I left home.”

  Mrs. Everett beamed. “Well, I tell you what. As often as you can get away from that hospital, come on over here and let me feed you. Dr. Russell is in and out, and everyone else here is female. There’s nothing like cooking for a hungry man, and I’d enjoy doing more of it.”

  “I’ll take that up with Dr. Wentworth and let you know,” Lewis said as he scooped up another bite.

  That was an interesting thought indeed. Libby considered it for a moment and then moved over to Miss Cantrell. “May I speak with you?”

  Miss Cantrell looked curious, but only said, “Of course.” She led the way to her room, which wasn’t far from the parlor, and motioned for Libby to take a seat in one of the two chairs near the window. She took the other. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I’ve had a thought, and perhaps I’m being too spontaneous, but what if Mr. Franklin were to stay here until his parents arrive? There’s nothing wrong with him besides the corneal abrasions, and he’s only a patient at the hospital because he has nowhere else to go. But if he were here, he could play the piano in the afternoons while we’re out on assignment, and that would free up a bed in the hospital.”

  “Hmm. That is an interesting thought. I’d have to ask Dr. Russell, of course, but there is a guest room sufficiently far enough away from you young ladies, and it is obvious that Mr. Franklin needs to be near a piano.” Miss Cantrell studied Libby carefully. “And what of this for you, Miss Green?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I couldn’t help but notice that you and Mr. Franklin are calling each other by your Christian names. Is something more going on that I should know about? We specifically spoke with each of you about keeping proper boundaries, did we not?”

  Libby looked down at her hands. “You did, Miss Cantrell. I’m sorry if my suggestion is inappropriate.”

  “The suggestion is only inappropriate if you have some ulterior motive for wanting him here. Are you forming a romantic attachment to Mr. Franklin?”

  Libby pondered that question for a moment, wanting to answer it as honestly as she could. “We’re just friends,” she replied. “I think he’s handsome, yes, and I am fascinated by his talent, but we haven’t spent much time in each other’s company, and when we have spoken, it’s been light and informal.”

  Miss Cantrell nodded. “And do you have any idea how he feels about you?”

  “He hasn’t said anything about it, but I believe he’s taken a fancy to Nurse Walters. They spent a good amount of time chatting this afternoon, and they both seemed to enjoy it very much.”

  “Nurse Walters isn’t under my care or I’d likely speak with her about that,” Miss Cantrell said wryly. “All right, Miss Green, if you believe that moving Mr. Franklin here would be good for his continued healing and wouldn’t interfere with your schooling or your dedication to your career, I’ll speak with Dr. Russell about it when he comes in. That is, of course, assuming that Mrs. Everett agrees. Should all of us be gone at once, his care would fall to her, and she might not want to be put in that position.”

  “Of course,” Libby replied. She had been foolish not to think about the extra work this would create for Mrs. Everett. She’d just been caught up in how wonderful it would be for Lewis to have regular access to a piano and to be able to leave that stifling hospital environment behind. She would have to start looking at things from all angles if she wanted to be successful at this profession.

  Miss Cantrell glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It’s getting late. Do you want the carriage to take Mr. Franklin back?”

  “No, I’ll ask a few of the girls to walk with us. It’s a lovely night.”

  “Very well. Try not to be too long, all right? I’d like to know you’re all accounted for by ten o’clock.”

  “Yes, Miss Cantrell.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lewis had to admit, it was quite flattering to be escorted by three bright, lively young women. He wished he could see what they looked like, but it didn’t matter terribly much—they were fun to talk to and they seemed to enjoy his company, and really, those were the most important things.

  Miss Jones and Miss Forsythe seemed to be doing most of the talking, however, and he realized he hadn’t heard anything from Libby for several minutes. When there was a lull in the girls’ conversation, he asked, “Are you all right, Libby? You seem rather quiet.”

  She shrugged, and he felt her shoulder lift and fall under his hand. “I’m fine. Just thinking about things, and wondering what to think about them, and wondering if I ought to be thinking about them at all.”

  “Well, that certainly sounds mysterious,” he said. “Of course, now I’m extremely curious, but I won’t press for details. Unless you’re in the mood to give them. In which case, I’d listen with rapt attention.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to share yet, but when I am, I know where to find you.”

  “Which is a good thing, because I’m not at all sure where to find myself. Blindness, you see.”

  She laughed again. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’ll find to joke about once your sight is restored. You’re making such a habit of this one topic.”

  “I’ll come up with something else, I promise.”

  They reached the hospital, and the two other girls waited downstairs while Libby took Lewis up to his room. They found Nurse Walters there, ready to give him his dose of opium. He’d hardly felt the pain in his eyes all evening and wondered for a moment if he should skip that night’s medication, but then realized that once his guests were gone and he was alone in the stillness, he wouldn’t be distracted, and the pain would most likely seem worse. He swallowed the liquid down, then turned to Libby.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening. It was one of the best I’ve ever spent.”

  She clasped his hand. “I’m so glad. And thank
you for sharing your music with us.”

  All too soon, she was gone, and Lewis sat on the edge of his bed to untie his shoes.

  “Do you need anything else, Mr. Franklin?” Nurse Walters asked from somewhere near the foot of his bed.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  She took one step away, but seemed to pause, as he didn’t hear her take another. “It was rather quiet here without you,” she offered.

  “I didn’t realize I was so loud,” he replied with a chuckle.

  “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. You were just missed.” Then she moved off across the room, her shoes echoing on the hard floor.

  That was interesting. Lewis shrugged as he unbuttoned his shirt. Some women were naturally more friendly and outgoing than others—Nurse Walters was most likely just trying to make him feel more welcome here at the hospital, knowing he was a visitor to the city.

  Once he was settled under the covers, he allowed himself to relive that moment when he had first touched the piano keys. It was like coming home and Christmas and a first kiss wrapped up into one, all the most pleasant sensations and heady experiences in one stroke. He hadn’t realized how much it would mean to him to play again. He’d only been away from his piano for two weeks, and yet, it felt like two lifetimes. He must never let that happen again.

  It had been startling to realize that the entire room had filled up with people as he played. He had been so caught up in the music, he supposed a herd of elephants could have stampeded through that parlor and he wouldn’t have noticed, but still, he wished he’d been more aware. He hoped he hadn’t seemed rude.

  And then there was Libby.

  He sighed.

  In the midst of the chaos of chattering voices and questions and requests, she was the anchor he leaned on, quite literally, to know where to go and what was expected of him. Her soft strength was somehow making him stronger. Perhaps that was merely because she was one of the first people he met here at the hospital. Or because she was his assigned escort. Whatever it was, he was so very grateful for her, and hoped that no matter where their paths took them after this, they would always remain friends.