Heart of Hearts (Nurses of New York Book 4)

by Amelia C. Adams

  That made Irene smile, but still, she’d feel better if she could see him for herself. Everything had changed between them, absolutely everything, and she felt as though she hardly knew what was what anymore. Was he still her mentor, her stalwart friend, or would he decide that with his forced departure from medicine, he didn’t need her anymore?

  A delivery came to the house immediately after breakfast, a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. With it was a note from Patrick, asking permission to call again the following evening. The messenger was waiting for a reply. Irene couldn’t help the warm bubble of delight that rose up in her chest at reading Patrick’s note over again while thinking about what she’d say.

  “Please tell Mr. Washburn that an evening next week would be better, as we’ve had some illness in the house,” she told the boy at last. She gave him a coin and he dashed away, no doubt heading to the candy shop the next street over. She didn’t want to delay Patrick’s visit, but she didn’t think it was fair to Dr. Russell to have guests invading his home when things were so uncertain.

  She turned to enter the parlor, ready to begin lessons for the day, but was brought up short when she saw Dr. Russell standing at the front of the room. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels as she came in. “There you are, Miss Cantrell. I was just about to make an announcement of sorts, and I couldn’t begin without you.”

  “An announcement, sir?”

  “That’s right. Please, take a seat.”

  She did so, bewildered. When he wanted a moment of class time, he usually consulted with her about it beforehand.

  “Rumors fly quickly, as does valid information, and I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that my neuralgia has reached a point where I can no longer perform surgery. This caused me some consternation yesterday. One might even say that I threw a bit of a tantrum.”

  A few of the girls chuckled.

  “I wouldn’t say it was a tantrum,” Irene inserted. “You didn’t stamp your feet even once.”

  “Very well then, it was not a tantrum. But it was certainly close.” Dr. Russell smiled at her, that warm, special smile that always made her feel like she had been invited into his private world. “I’ve spent the night thinking it over, and I’ve come to some important decisions. Some might think I’m acting in haste, but I believe I would have reached these same conclusions even after several days of thought, so I don’t see the reason to waste the time.”

  He strolled over to the window and looked out of it. “I never intended to open a nursing school. You all know that we put this program together in a state of emergency—the program at the hospital had been filled and there you were, eager to learn. I believed that a paperwork error should not keep you from attaining your education, so I took you in, asked Miss Cantrell to help me, and we cobbled together this rather unorthodox school. Miss Cantrell stepped up to the task and performed it admirably, but it was never part of her original job. Indeed, I’ve piled a lot on her shoulders.”

  Irene felt a knot forming in her stomach. What was he getting at?

  He turned from the window and addressed the group directly. “Fate has the most curious way of playing her hand. You believe you know what to expect, and yet, you don’t. What you find most often, however, is that fate knew much better than you did just what you needed, and you end up in a much better place. And that’s what I believe is happening here.”

  Irene closed her eyes. If he didn’t stop this infernal pontificating and get to the point, she believed she’d scream.

  “That is why I’ve decided to make this school a permanent institution, no longer an experiment or a stop-gap measure, and to begin advertising for next spring’s enrollment. That is, if Miss Cantrell will stay on and assist me as head instructor.”

  Her eyes flew open, and she met his gaze. “I . . . beg your pardon?”

  “I know it’s not the life you dreamed of when you became a nurse, and if you like, you’re more than welcome to go over to the hospitals and assist the doctors there as needed, but I’d be very gratified if you’d spend at least a portion of your time here, with me, running this school. What do you say, Miss Cantrell?”

  She glanced around the room and saw several pairs of eager eyes looking at her. “Well, of course I will,” she replied, and the students all but cheered.

  Dr. Russell grinned. “Well, now that we’ve taken care of that bit of business, I suggest you all settle down and allow Miss Cantrell to present the lesson she’s prepared for today. I have some newspaper advertisements to place—it’s time to let the world know this school exists.”

  He strode out of the room, and Irene watched him go. She was completely astounded at everything that had just happened.

  “You look startled, Miss Cantrell,” Phoebe said.

  Irene blinked, coming back to herself. “Yes, I am. I had no idea he was going to do that.”

  “Is it a nice surprise?” Tess asked.

  “It’s the nicest surprise I could have wished for.” Irene looked around the room, smiling at the girls, but found she couldn’t see them clearly for the unshed tears that were in her eyes. “I’m not quite up to teaching today. Why don’t you tell me what you read yesterday about the spine, and we’ll discuss it?”

  Chapter Twelve

  After lunch, the girls headed off on their afternoon assignments, and Irene went in search of Dr. Russell. She found him sitting in the garden out back of the house, sipping a cup of tea.

  “This is a lovely spot,” she said, pulling up a chair beside him. “I’ve never seen you out here before.”

  “That’s because I rarely take the time to enjoy it. My mother loved this garden and spent a good deal of her energy tending to her roses. Now I pay a gardener to do it, and while it’s still lovely, it misses her personal touch.”

  Irene inhaled the scent of roses that were just a bit past their prime, and yet sweet. “You never told me what Dr. Wentworth needed so early in the morning yesterday.”

  “Oh, that. Yes, we did get rather distracted by Mrs. Blewitt’s procedure, didn’t we?” He looked down into his teacup and smiled. “It would appear that two certain doctors who seemed intent on stirring up trouble for Dr. Sims have left town.”

  “They have?”

  “That’s right. An associate of Dr. Wentworth’s saw them get on a southbound train. I don’t know what they intend to do from here on out, but for the time being at least, they won’t be causing problems around here.”

  “I wonder, though, if the seeds of mistrust they sowed will take root in the New York medical community.”

  “They might. Dr. Sims has already been the topic of much discussion—this is hardly anything new—and those agitators might take this and throw it on the fire of their righteous indignation. The facts remain the same—today, in our hospitals in this town, we have improved the quality of life of countless women, and we cannot overlook that. Whatever Dr. Sims might have been at one time, he developed a procedure I can be proud of.”

  “He’s lucky to have such a good friend in his corner,” Irene said.

  “He has earned my trust.” Dr. Russell looked down into his teacup again and then set it on the small table between the two chairs. “Tell me your thoughts about my little announcement in there this morning.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t be more pleased. Thank you for asking me to stay on.”

  He seemed surprised. “Of course I’d ask you to stay on. You don’t think I could do this without you—you’ve practically run this by yourself from the very first day.”

  “Well, that’s true, but I just thought . . . with you retiring from surgery, perhaps you wouldn’t need a nurse anymore. I thought about applying at St. Timothy’s. I know they’re frequently understaffed, and it wouldn’t be much of a transition—”

  Dr. Russell came to his feet so fast, he knocked his chair over. Irene stared up at him, startled by his sudden movement.

  “St. Timothy’s? Irene, don’t you have any idea how I feel about yo
u?”

  She blinked, absolutely unable to answer.

  “No, you wouldn’t, would you, and that would be entirely my fault.” He ran his hand through his hair, then bent down, took her by the upper arms, and brought her to a standing position. Still holding her, he said, “I don’t know when it happened, really. Sometime over the years between the surgeries and the consultations, our successes and our failures and all the many times when you supported me, I fell in love with you. I didn’t recognize it at first. I assumed it was professional respect, or possibly even friendship. But then I began to wonder what it would feel like to touch your hair or to kiss you, and I realized how very much you’d come to mean to me.”

  Irene’s breath was coming so fast, she wondered if she was about to hyperventilate.

  “I have no right to be saying these things to you—I know it. You’re young and vibrant, while I’m older and uncertain about my health in the future. But how could I go on for one more minute letting you wonder where you stand with me? I love you. I’ve loved you for years, and I don’t just want you to be my nurse, by dang. I want you to be my wife.”

  She looked up into his eyes, eyes that were searching her face almost frantically. “You mean it?” she said, her voice small for fear that he’d say this had all been some kind of cruel joke.

  “I mean it. I mean every word. Please, Irene, give me your answer.”

  Words would not come, and she didn’t possess the power to force them. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. His arms came around her waist and she melted into him, feeling the rough texture of his jacket through the thinner sleeves of her dress, inhaling his scent of soap and pine, drinking in the moment like she’d never tasted water before. When at last she ran out of breath and had to pull back, he looked at her in wonder.

  “How long have you loved me?” he asked.

  “Probably as long as you’ve loved me.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Are we the most pathetic pair of lovers in the world? All this time wasted, denying our feelings when we could have been holding each other like this.” He traced her jaw with his thumb. “So, what do you say, Miss Cantrell? Will you marry me?”

  “Absolutely. As soon as possible.”

  “Really? You don’t want a fancy wedding that takes months to plan?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “We’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, most definitely.”

  This time, he initiated the kiss, leaving her breathless and weak in the knees. As he led her toward the house so they could talk to Mrs. Everett about a wedding cake, Irene said, “I just have one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Does this mean Patrick Washburn shouldn’t come calling next week?”

  She squealed as Frank chased her into the house.

  Epilogue

  Some might say that it’s impossible to put together a wedding in three days, but those people aren’t those who understand the power of true love. As Irene stood with Frank in front of a minister in their small neighborhood church, wearing an ivory tapestry dress with a red stain that could only be seen in certain lights, she knew that three days had been exactly right.

  It had been long enough to send a telegram to her parents and for them to take a train down from Albany. It had been long enough for her to take her things and move them into Frank’s bedroom—all but the few things she’d need until they were wed. It had been long enough for all her nursing students to pull out their best dresses and make them ready to be the prettiest gathering of bridesmaids the church congregation had ever seen. And it had been more than enough to convince a woman who never wanted to get married that being married was what she wanted most deep down in her heart of hearts.

  All the doctors and nurses from both hospitals who weren’t on call came to the house after the ceremony and congratulated them both. Patrick was there, looking disappointed, but he shook their hands warmly and kissed Irene on the cheek, calling her “Mrs. Russell,” which sent a thrill clean through her.

  After the wedding cake had been eaten and all the guests had left, Frank took his new wife by the hand and tugged her into his arms. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”

  Irene sighed. “I’m so happy, I hardly know how to explain it.”

  “Then don’t try. Show me instead.” He lowered his lips to hers, and for the next two and a half minutes or so, she did her very best to show him just how very happy she was indeed.

  THE END

  The Kansas Crossroads Series:

  A New Beginning

  A Free Heart

  The Dark and the Dawn

  A Clean Slate

  A Clear Hope

  The Whisper of Morning

  A Careless Wind

  A Narrow Road

  The Bitter and the Sweet

  The Calm of Night

  And many more to be announced …

  The Nurses of New York series:

  Sea of Strangers

  Cause of Conflict

  Touch of Tenderness

  Heart of Hearts

  And many more to be announced …

  The American Mail-Order Brides series:

  Hope: Bride of New Jersey

  Tabitha: Bride of Missouri

  The Brides of Beckham series:

  Mail Order Molly

  Visit Amelia at www.ameliacadams.com

  Have you had the chance to read Whiskey and Women, a new contemporary Western romance by Amelia C. Adams? Here’s a sneak peek …

  Chapter One

  “Yes, sir. I understand that. However . . .” Meg took a deep breath as the voice on the other end of the line interrupted her yet again. She’d never thought of herself as the type to ruffle easily. In fact, she was rather good at moderating disputes and coming to mutually beneficial resolutions. That’s what made her an effective lawyer. Right now, though, she was dangerously close to losing her cool. “Yes, I understand, but if you’ll recall, that’s not what we agreed . . . All right. You too.”

  She hung up the phone and leaned back in her desk chair, trying not to let loose a stream of words she knew she’d regret saying. What was the point of being a junior partner in a law firm when one of the senior partners came in and snatched a case out of her hands and renegotiated the whole thing and cost her client hundreds of thousands of dollars in the settlement and made Meg look incompetent in front of everyone? Not for the first time, she thought about starting up her own firm. She’d need to arrange a partnership buyout, but she didn’t think that would be too difficult.

  A rapid knocking sounded on her door. She glanced at her clock—it was midmorning, and her next appointment wasn’t until eleven thirty. “Come in?”

  Kate, her best friend, stuck her head into the office, her curly blonde hair bouncing around her face. “Hey, sorry to bother you. Got a minute?”

  Interesting. Kate only stopped by Meg’s work if there was an emergency, and she hadn’t even been around much at all over the last few weeks. This was a welcome surprise, although it made Meg worry that something was wrong. “Of course. What’s going on?”

  Kate practically bounced over to the desk. “Look what I have!” She held up a large manila envelope and waved it back and forth.

  “Um, I can’t look at it when it’s moving around in front of my eyes. You’re making me dizzy.” Thank goodness—Kate looked happy. It must not be bad news.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Kate put the envelope on the polished surface of the desk and stood there expectantly, her eyes shining. “Open it!”

  Meg couldn’t tell anything from the outside of the envelope—it obviously hadn’t come through the mail—so she flipped it over and pulled out the contents. Two first-class airline tickets, a brochure, some typed-up papers that looked like an itinerary—“What is all this?”

  Kate bounced again. “So, you know that charity auction I went to last night? The one you couldn’t go to because you were too busy with al
l your paperwork?” She made air quotes with her fingers, like she thought Meg had just been making excuses. Okay, maybe that was true, but still. “I won! Look—a weeklong trip for two to Nashville, where we’ll spend several hours with country music singing sensation Quinn Dawson!”

  Meg raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘we,’ Kate?”

  “Well, of course you’re coming with me. You can’t tell me no—not after everything I’ve done for you this year. It’s the ultimate reward—I’ll be in my favorite place, meeting my favorite singer, with my best friend. Please?” Kate clasped her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes dramatically.

  Meg sighed. Kate had done a lot for her that year—cheering her up after some rough first dates, helping her move into a new apartment and painting the entire thing, talking her through countless difficult days at the office. Kate probably knew more about the interoffice politics of this firm than Meg did, and Kate didn’t even work here.

  “You don’t want to take Kenny?”

  Kate waved that off. “This isn’t a husband kind of trip. This is a girls’ trip.” She took a step closer to the desk. “I know you don’t like country music and that you’d probably rather spend your time holed up with your paperwork instead, but please? This really means a lot to me. All expenses paid, Meg. Hotel, airfare, food—the works.”

  Meg leaned back in her chair and studied her friend. It felt like there was more going on here than just a fun getaway, but she knew Kate wouldn’t spill until she was ready. “Okay, I’ll go. I have some vacation saved up. What are the dates again?”

  Kate gave a little squeal and tapped the envelope. “Everything’s in the packet.”

  “I’ll put in for the time off, but please don’t ask me to enjoy this, all right? Being with you will be fun, of course, but the rest of it—the studio visit and so forth—it’s just not me.” Meg glanced down the itinerary again. “Dinner with Quinn Dawson. A Quinn Dawson concert. A tour of Quinn Dawson’s ranch. That’s a whole lot of Quinn Dawson.”