by Deeanne Gist
Flashing both dimples, he leaned in close. “You needn’t sound so surprised.”
She again gave him a once-over, this one much briefer than the last. “Where did you get all this? I don’t remember seeing it in your wardrobe.”
Joe took a quick glance about the lobby, offering no reply. She blushed, realizing how her comment might be misconstrued if it had been overheard. But with most of the men sleeping off their Saturday night revels, the entryway was, for once, lacking in spectators.
They stepped outside, but instead of heading down the boardwalk, Joe escorted her to a waiting coal-box buggy harnessed to Shakespeare.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Placing his hands at her waist, he lifted her up. “I believe they call it a buggy.”
“But church is within walking distance.”
Anna slid over, making room for him to mount. The buggy dipped beneath his weight, causing the fringe around the top to ripple and swirl.
“I was hoping to talk you into a Sunday ride after church,” he said.
Clicking his tongue at Shakespeare, he gave the reins a shake. She twisted around to get a better look at the vehicle. Coal-box buggies had been extremely fashionable in New York. She didn’t even know they had them in the Territory. This one sported a black carriage with broad stripes of dark blue and cloth trimming to match.
“Will you?” he asked.
She returned her attention to him. The derby hat he wore seemed so out of character she lost her train of thought. “Will I what?”
“Go for a ride with me after church?”
“Oh!” She couldn’t imagine what the wagon shop must have charged him for the buggy and could certainly understand that he wanted to get his money’s worth. “Well, all right.”
“Only ‘all right’?” he teased.
She folded her hands in her lap. “I’d like to very much.”
Smiling, he sat a little straighter.
For the first time, Anna realized the sun was out. Not because Mount Rainier postured in all its glory on the horizon, but because the sun and Joe’s green waistcoat had turned his eyes to an emerald-like quality.
“Are you feeling better this morning?” he asked.
“Much.”
“Your headache is gone?”
“It is.” That wasn’t exactly true—it still rumbled along the edges—but she was so struck with him she couldn’t quite get her bearings.
“I’ve missed you.” He wasn’t making any attempt to watch the road but centered his attention entirely on her.
A shimmer of anticipation rushed through her. Anticipation of something she was sure she shouldn’t be contemplating on her way to church.
Drawing in a raspy breath, she tried to lighten the mood. “You missed me or my cooking?”
“You.” His tone was low, intimate, not at all acknowledging her attempt at humor. “Definitely you.”
She faced forward. Time to move the conversation in a safer direction. “Wasn’t that our turn back there?”
He looked around, then gave a small huff of amusement. “I believe it was.”
Even with the detour, they arrived at church much too soon to suit her.
Jumping from the buggy, he held his hands up to her. “Why are you frowning?”
“I was just thinking the day was entirely too beautiful to be indoors.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders, but instead of grasping her elbows, he clasped her waist, then lifted her from the carriage.
“For shame, Miss Ivey,” he whispered, holding her even though her feet now touched the ground. “What will God think about your reluctance to enter His house?”
He smelled of the mint from his shaving lotion. “I think He’d understand,” she said. “After all, He made the day and asked us to rejoice in it.”
Stepping back, he released her waist only to then capture her hands. “Well, we’ll do both. First, we’ll praise Him in His house, then we’ll praise Him out-of-doors.” He brought her knuckles to his lips. “In any event, I’m sure He’ll be glad to see you’ve rid yourself of your vices before entering church.”
“Vices?”
His eyes took on a gleam. “Well, it was clear to me yesterday that you’ve developed a thirst for whiskey since you left me.”
She gasped. The quick intake of breath caused her to cough. She knew he was teasing, but she still wanted to explain. Instead of giving her an opportunity, though, he handed her his handkerchief, then whisked her inside.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Joe regretted his decision to leave the top up on the coal-box. If ever there was a day for riding in an open buggy, this was it. Seattle might enjoy more than its fair share of rain, but all it took was one day like this to obliterate from memory a month’s worth of gray ones.
He glanced at Anna. She’d worn her blue gingham dress, as he’d hoped she would. The temperatures were beginning to cool, though, and she’d need something more suitable before too long.
He couldn’t keep buying her fabric, though. Not until they were married or at least betrothed. He wondered again if she’d made use of his most recent offering, but refrained from asking.
She looked more rested than she had last night, but he could tell she wasn’t completely herself. Another subject he wished to broach, but one which wouldn’t exactly further his cause.
He bit back his impatience with the entire courting flubdub. It wasn’t as if they were animals whose only way of communicating was through elaborate rituals. He and Anna both spoke English. Why couldn’t he simply state what he wanted and then go see the preacher?
They hit a rut in the road, thrusting Anna against him momentarily. He was tempted to hit every furrow they came across just for the brief contact it would afford him.
It wouldn’t be hard. The road out to Lake Washington was hilly, bumpy, and gravelly. Dense forest and brush rose on either side as if the road were a river carving out a canyon.
Anna coughed.
“You cold?” he asked.
She shook her head, but he slipped off his jacket and hooked it on her shoulders.
“Thank you.”
He searched for an appropriate topic of conversation, couldn’t think of one, then finally gave in to temptation. “Doc seems to keep you busy.”
“I can’t imagine how he’s done it by himself all this time. People think nothing of calling on him all hours of the day and night.”
“He gets you up in the middle of the night!”
“No, no. But one morning I arrived at his home only to find he’d never even gone to bed. Can you imagine?”
“Guess I never thought about it much.”
She sighed. “Neither had I.”
A dove high in a tree crooned to its mate. When she didn’t respond in kind, he tried again, his coo-oo-oo a sad, mournful sound. Joe scanned the maples, pines, and oaks, but the bird’s tan color made it impossible to spot.
His thoughts drifted back to Anna’s nursing. “Do you like it?”
“Like what? Helping Doc Maynard?” She cocked her head to the side, pondering his question. “I can’t really say I enjoy it, exactly. How can I when most everyone we see is in some degree of pain? Yet I can see why the doc finds it rewarding.”
“But you don’t?”
“Oh, I do. I guess.”
They started up an incline.
He placed his arm on the seat back, giving her extra support. “You don’t have to work for him, you know.”
“I know. But what would I do then?”
Marry me. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet, anyway. Come back to us. But he didn’t want to offer that either. The next time she set foot in his home, he wanted her to be Mrs. Joseph Roy Denton, not his cook.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t like how he keeps you out until all hours.”
“He doesn’t.” Her surprise was genuine.
“He did yesterday. Can you honestly say that was an exce
ption?”
She overlapped the lapels of his jacket, cocooning herself inside. “I’ve only worked for him for one week. It’s a bit early to have established a pattern, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. But last night you were almost sick you were so tired. And don’t try to deny it.”
They crested the hill.
“It was just a headache. Hardly anything to be alarmed over.”
He refrained from commenting. Doc said he’d be more diligent, so hopefully it was a moot point. After a bend in the road, the lake came into view. Several ducks paddled through the water. The males’ iridescent green heads and fawn-colored breasts were much more showy than the females’ drab, mottled plumages.
Just the opposite of people, Joe thought. With us, it’s the females who are resplendent.
Anna straightened. “Oh, Joe. Look how beautiful it is.”
Removing his arm from the seat back, he took the reins in both hands and picked up the pace, guiding Shakespeare to a break in the trees that gave way to a sloping shore.
Dark evergreens lining the distant side of the glistening lake looked like upside-down feathers against a backdrop of mountains far on the horizon.
“Whoa, boy.” Joe jumped to the ground, then lifted Anna from the buggy, resisting the temptation to pull her close.
They spread out a blanket he’d confiscated from his room at the Sires Hotel, anchoring it with a basket of food Owen Nausley had packed for them.
The serenity of the surroundings calmed him, and by the time they’d finished lunch, the old familiarity had returned.
She asked about his men.
He asked about her patients.
She wanted to know about his new cook.
He wanted to know how long she’d had her cough.
She asked about the securing of his land.
He asked if she liked the fabrics he’d bought her.
Averting her eyes, she pulled on a tendril of hair. “Very much.”
“Have you made anything with them?”
She tossed a piece of crust to one of the ducks waddling along the shoreline. “What exactly was it you wanted me to make?”
A wedding gown. But he couldn’t say that. Too late, he realized a declaration of that sort might scare her off. He loved her and he suspected she loved him, but it was their first Sunday drive. A little patience was in order.
“I figured you could use a new petticoat, I guess. Among other things.”
“It was terribly improper,” she whispered. “Giving me fabric for those kinds of things. We shouldn’t even be discussing it.”
He suppressed a smile, though her whispering amused him. The only thing close enough to overhear was the duck, and their conversation wouldn’t upset its sensibilities.
“You’re probably right,” he said. “But will you make something just the same?”
She raised her gaze to his. “Yes.”
The look in her eyes took his breath away and he could no more stop himself than he could stop the sun from setting. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her up against him and lowered his mouth to hers.
She offered no resistance, accepting him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it was.
The kiss began softly, slowly, then built. He splayed his hands along her back in an effort to touch as much of her as he could. But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t near enough.
She encircled his neck with her arms. He skated his palms to her sides, sliding them from the curve of her waist up to her raised elbows, then down again.
A tiny moan from the back of her throat tripled his craving. He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing her jaw, her eyes, her ears, her neck.
Tightening her hold, she pressed herself against him so hard he felt sure the buttons marching down her dress would leave imprints on his chest.
Marry me. When could he ask her? How much longer must he wait?
He wrapped his arms completely around her, holding her. Hugging her. Rocking her.
When she began to have difficulty breathing, he reluctantly loosened his hold. Still, she couldn’t catch her breath.
He frowned. “Are you all right?”
She tapped her chest. “It hurts.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Mine too.”
“No,” she gasped. “I mean it hurts.”
He reared back. “Anna?”
Her face filled with panic. She sucked for air, but only made thin, rasping sounds.
“Anna?” His heart began to pound. “What is it? What’s happening?”
Her chest heaved as it struggled for breath. He had no idea what to do. Jumping to his feet, he pulled her up. Maybe standing would make it easier.
She squeezed her eyes shut. He placed her hands on his shoulders for support and she gripped him like a vise.
“Breathe,” he whispered, bracketing her waist with his hands. “Come on, love. Breathe.”
Her knees weakened. She wasn’t turning blue, but he could see she was struggling. A few moments later, her grip loosened, her shoulders relaxed, her breathing grew deeper.
He found his own breath keeping time with hers. When all was normal, he smoothed the hair from her face. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. All of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe.”
He blew out a puff of air. “Well, I’ve heard of a kiss taking a person’s breath away, but I thought it was just a saying.”
Her chuckle turned into a cough.
He pulled her against him, careful to keep his embrace loose. “Anna, something isn’t right. Has that ever happened to you before?”
“Never.”
He tipped her head up with his hand. “Well, you’re going to have to find out what it is, because if that’s what’s going to happen every time I kiss you, then we have a problem.”
Smiling, she slid her eyes closed. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I must be coming down with something is all.”
Joe wasn’t so sure, but he decided not to press her. He’d find the doc before he left town and ask him.
Scooping her into his arms, he headed toward the buggy. “Well, it’s time to go anyway. You rest while I get our things.”
“I can help, Joe. I’m fine now.”
“No. You took ten years off my life. You’re going to sit in that carriage and rest.”
She outlined his ear with her finger, causing him to miss a step.
“At least I didn’t wrestle with a tree and lose,” she murmured.
He scowled. “I didn’t lose. If I’d lost, I’d be dead.” He deposited her into the seat of the buggy. “Stay put. This will only take me a minute.”
Scrunching up the blanket, his concern escalated. He’d already lost one wife. He wasn’t about to lose Anna, too.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
“She was coughing throughout the day, then all of a sudden she couldn’t breathe.” Joe strode up First Avenue, the doc by his side. Between its being Sunday and the supper hour, the streets were all but deserted.
“Every time she tried, she gasped and hiccupped.”
Maynard frowned. “Do you know if it happens to her often?”
“Never. She said it had never happened before. It gave her quite a scare, too.”
“How long did it last?”
“Seemed like forever, but I think it was actually only about a minute, no more than two.”
“Perhaps something brought it on. What was she doing just before it started?”
Joe groped for an answer. “Um, nothing. She wasn’t doing anything.”
Doc gave him a sharp look. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”
Joe swallowed. Maynard stopped, grabbing Joe’s arm. The doctor wouldn’t stand a chance in any physical confrontation between the two of them, but he garnered a great deal of respect in the community and in Joe’s sight as well. So Joe allowed the rough handling.
“What was she doing?” Maynard repeated.
“Nothing that should h
ave brought that on.”
The men studied each other. Music and a burst of raucous laughter from McDonald’s Saloon two blocks down reached their ears. The longer they stood in silence, the more strained it became.
Maynard’s expression hardened. “Was she struggling?”
Had it been anyone else, Joe would have flattened him. “I cannot believe you have to ask.”
“It’s my job to ask.”
Debatable, but Joe let it pass. “She was not.”
“How far had it gone?”
The anger percolating just below the surface came perilously close to spilling over. Fisting his hands, Joe kept his voice low and even. “It went nowhere at all. We are through with this topic.”
Whirling around, Joe strode up the street. He’d told the doc about Anna’s ailment. That’s all the man needed to know.
September turned into October, bringing with it nature’s display of oranges, reds, and yellows on an evergreen backdrop. Descending the steps of the Occidental, Anna headed toward Doc Maynard’s home.
A gust of wind lifted yellow maple leaves from the ground and swirled them at her feet. Tightening the cape across her shoulders, she skirted a puddle, though moisture from the morning rains still dampened the toes of her boots and the hem of her skirt. But nothing could dampen her spirits.
Joe was going to propose to her tonight. She was certain of it. He’d courted her steadily each and every weekend for the past six weeks. In the entire time, he never failed to come to town, and as a result, the local men had ceased to shadow her every move.
Then last week, after a particularly potent kiss, he had told her to take extra care with her toilette for tonight’s supper, but wouldn’t say any more. She wished she could wear a brand-new dress for whatever it was he had planned, but she simply didn’t have enough coin.
With the money she’d earned, she’d tried to pay him back. He wouldn’t hear of it. Became downright angry over it.
So she’d backed down and instead purchased wool for two outfits, wearing them alternately. Her cape, meanwhile, needed to be read its last rites. It offered little to no protection from the encroaching cold.
At least she was no longer making house calls. After that first week as an assistant, the doc decided he no longer wanted her to accompany him on the road. Instead, Anna stayed in his surgery room. Cleaning, organizing, and taking his messages when he wasn’t there, assisting with his surgeries when he was.
