by Caroline Lee
She busied herself with folding up the blankets she’d used as a bed the previous night, and then rummaged through the kitchen cupboards as the rising sun slowly lit the house through the single window along the back wall. Since Doctor Carpenter still hadn’t come out, she thought that she’d make them some breakfast; not because she wanted to impress him, she told herself, but rather to thank him for allowing her to stay there the night before. She lit the fire in the stove, and began searching for something to make for breakfast.
Unfortunately, it was difficult to cook in someone else’s kitchen…and not just because she couldn’t find anything that remotely resembled the breakfast food she was used to. There was only the littlest bit of milk in the icebox, and no eggs or porridge anywhere. When he still hadn’t emerged by the time she’d finished her search, Meri rolled up her sleeves and made a batch of biscuits. After mixing the flour and salt and lard together, she rolled out the dough, cut them quickly, and popped them into the oven.
She was just arranging them on one of the four plates in the house, with a little of the jam she’d found in the cupboard, when Doctor Carpenter came out of his room. He was cradling a sniffling Zelle, but his attention wasn’t on her. Instead, he seemed almost riveted by the biscuits on the table.
He stalked towards her—towards them—and she watched his nose flare as he sniffed their delicious scent. She told herself that it was only her imagination that made him look like a great panther hunting for something juicy, as if she was his prey. A secret part of her was disappointed.
“You made these?”
It was a stupid question, and she raised a brow at his accusation. “Of course.” Who else would’ve made them? “You’re low on most supplies, but I found enough for biscuits.”
His expression turned wary then, and he pulled out a chair with his free hand and sat down, patting Zelle’s bottom comfortingly. She whimpered, and snuggled deeper into the crook of his shoulder, and Meri’s heart tightened at the sight.
This little girl loved and trusted her papa. Surely the man couldn’t be too coarse, too rugged, if he took care of her so well? The way he was rubbing her back now, absently, told Meri that he loved his daughter. He was still flicking his attention between Meri and the biscuits, though, so she moved the plate a little closer to him, and he all-but-snatched one, his movements strangely furtive, as if she was going to take the plate away again.
But when he bit into it, she watched those mysterious blue eyes close in what could only be bliss. He sighed, and then began to chew. Meri sank into a chair quietly, unwilling to disturb him. He finished chewing, and swallowed, and then opened his eyes again, finding hers unerringly.
“Thank you.”
That was it. Just thank you. No acknowledgement of how empty his kitchen otherwise was—she’d found the leftover beans that he was obviously planning on eating this morning—or how she’d had to hunt through all of his cupboards to find the ingredients. Just thank you.
Meri gripped her hands in front of her, under the table, and wondered why his thanks made her stomach flop over.
Doctor Carpenter took another biscuit—the first had disappeared already—more politely this time. Still watching her, he spoke to his daughter. “Miss Almassy made us some biscuits, honey. Maybe having a momma around this house don’t sound so bad.”
Meri’s eyes flew wide, and she pushed her chair back from the table, more to get away from his gaze and the strange flutterings she felt at his casual comment than any real reason to stand. But once she was up, she gathered two other plates and a small knife she’d found, and placed some jam on one of them for Doctor Carpenter.
While she bustled, she could hear him speaking to Zelle. “Come on, Princess. Just try a little bit. They’re much better than beans.”
When Meri turned back to the two of them, she saw the little girl sitting across his lap now, but her head was still buried in his chest, her little hands gripping his shirt—the same gray one he’d worn yesterday. She was making whimpering noises, and when he said “Come on, honey, just a little bit?” she shook her head and started to cry.
Meri placed another biscuit on Doctor Carpenter’s plate and put it in front of the pair, just as he popped the rest of Zelle’s biscuit into his mouth with a sigh. She was standing so close to him now that she could touch him. If she wanted to. Which she didn’t. Because he wasn’t what she wanted in a husband.
Was he?
He was a doctor, someone who would allow her to practice her art. He might be gruff, but he was gentle with his daughter, and kind enough to offer her a place to stay. Maybe he wasn’t so far from what she wanted, after all.
The sudden thought made her smile a bit at her own indecisiveness, just as Doctor Carpenter turned to look up at her. Her expression froze, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s been up all night, miserable, and now she doesn’t want to eat.”
Unthinking, Meri put her hand on the back of Zelle’s head, like she’d do to any of her patients. The girl’s hair was like cornsilk, such a pale blonde that it was hard to imagine what Doctor Carpenter’s wife must have looked like. Someone—the doctor?—had cut her hair haphazardly, so that the shaggy mop barely brushed her collar. In that regard, the little girl’s hair style looked remarkably like her father’s, despite the difference in shade.
So intent was she on the unusual paleness of Zelle’s locks that it took a moment to realize that they were also quite warm. Meri shifted her hand, just managing to touch the smooth little forehead before it burrowed deeper into her daddy’s chest, and confirmed her suspicions.
“She’s got a fever.” She moved her hand to the girl’s back, and was shocked a moment later when he laid his down on top of it. Her hand trapped between his big, warm one, and Zelle’s back, Meri could do nothing more than freeze and stare down at him. Again, he seemed not to notice the frisson of lightening that shot up her arm at their contact.
“I know.” Had his voice always been so deep? His eyes always so blue? Meri blinked, wondering if she was getting sick herself. Desperate to put some distance between them, she pulled her hand from under his and moved back around to the chair she’d claimed as her own. Funny, though, she wasn’t hungry in the least bit now.
“I thought she felt warm, but it’s not as bad as last fall. We stopped in Missouri on the way out here for two weeks, to help her get better. She’s not as hot this time, and is more…”
He trailed off, looking down at his daughter with a mix of hope and dread. Her heart went out to him, having seen parents with sick children so many times. Zelle was all he had—all he had of his late wife—and Meri could tell that he loved the little girl very, very much. He might be a doctor, but he was still a parent, first. “More lively?”
“Yeah.” Doctor Carpenter’s gaze caught hers again, and Meri felt like a trapped butterfly. Heavens, but she was being fanciful! “Yeah, she’s miserable, but not as miserable as she was then.”
She forced herself to nod. “Well, if you’d like, I’m happy to watch her while you go out to do whatever you need to do around the homestead." He hadn’t been out to take care of the morning chores yet. And besides, if she spent some time with the girl, Meri might be able to figure out which of her meager supply of medicines might help Zelle.
“No!” He pushed himself away from the table and stood a little too quickly. “No.” He repeated, softer, cuddling the little girl against him. “Zelle wouldn’t…wouldn’t like that.” He swallowed, and looked away from Meri. “I’ll stay here with her.”
“Of course.” Why did her voice sound so weak to her ears?
“But…we’ve got to go get some supplies. Last time I was at the post, someone mentioned there was a big storm coming through soon.” He began to pace with his daughter. “I figure that you could stay here until that’s passed. The stage won’t come near this place until next week, probably.”
“I can pay you.” She wasn’t sure why she blurted it, ot
her than trying to find a way to ignore the sudden tightness in her stomach.
He shrugged, and circled the table twice as Zelle mewled pitifully. “Don’t worry about it. If you can make more of those biscuits, I’ll consider us even.”
It was obvious that they’d been surviving on the basest of meals since his wife had passed away, but her biscuits weren’t that good, were they? Still, she nodded, and ventured a smile. “Deal.”
He smiled in return—a quick flash of white among the darkness of his beard—and the tightness in her belly intensified. Was she coming down with an illness? How else to explain why the sight of his smile, one front tooth badly chipped, could make her so lightheaded?
She was staying, for another few days at least. She had another few days to discover more about this mysterious not-quite-fiancé of hers. Another day to find out why he made her heart beat faster and her cheeks warm, when he obviously was nothing like what she wanted in a husband.
Was he?
“I think, under the circumstances, Doctor Carpenter, that you should call me Meri.”
He’d stopped pacing, at the furthest end of the cabin from her, and eyed her warily. She couldn’t shake the feeling that sometimes he was the panther, and sometimes the prey. Like he wasn’t sure what to expect from her. But then he nodded, hesitantly. “Then call me Jack, okay? Since you’re going to be a houseguest.”
A houseguest? Meri bit her lip, and began tidying up the kitchen. She’d come here to be his wife. And even now, a part of her still wanted that role. Was it that she just wanted to be a wife, or that she wanted to be his wife? She needed more time to determine her feelings about him, and then she could start to work on him.
CHAPTER THREE
Maybe he should’ve dragged the sick baby into town that morning, because it turned out that the threatened storm hit that afternoon, and they didn’t have a chance, after all. He worried that they weren’t going to have enough food…but then, he always worried about that. It was a hold-over from Sing Sing, when there hadn’t been enough food. At least here there were no responsibilities, beyond hunkering down and making sure Zelle’s unexplained fever didn’t increase.
He tried to remember what Osbourne had said about fevers. It hadn’t mattered at the time, because there wasn’t any medicine in the cells, beyond what the charities brought. Cold water baths and prayer was all he could offer, and Jack had plenty of that here. Maybe there were medicines at the general store, but he couldn’t get to them until the storm passed, same as the milk and eggs he knew he needed to buy.
In the meantime, the only thing to do was to close up the window and the doors tightly, make sure there was enough firewood, and read to Zelle. He had a whole bookshelf over the mantel; cooking books, household books, a few doctoring books, and some novels. Today he was about halfway through Dickens’ Oliver Twist, and Zelle dozed against his chest as he read out loud.
He wasn’t reading too loud, though, because Miss Almas—Meri was puttering around the house, too. It felt weird to have someone else in here with them. He’d only been here a few months, but had spent so long running and hiding that it was odd to have another adult squeezed in with him. Like being back at Sing Sing…except not. There, men were crammed one on top of the other, and there wasn’t any freedom to move or speak or do what you wanted. Here, he was in control—of himself and his destiny—and she was…well, having her humming in the kitchen didn’t feel anything like having a cellmate. It was nice.
With the fire burning so strongly in the hearth—the wind howled outside, but in here it was cozy—Meri had set a few big tubs of water to warming. He’d dragged them inside for her before the storm hit, and now he was glad of it. The tubs were steaming, and she was ready to wash all of the clothes that she’d worn on her journey.
His voice trailed off and the book fell against Zelle as he watched Meri roll up her sleeves and get to work. He’d never watched anyone wash clothes before, but Meri seemed efficient and no-nonsense. She’d rung out both of her gowns and hung them up over the line she’d strung, before sitting back on her haunches and facing him.
Her direct gaze flustered him; he didn’t want to admit that he’d been engrossed in watching her work. Being this close to a woman was still a new experience for him, and he liked learning new things. Maybe, once she left, he’d try washing his and Princess’s clothes himself, instead of bringing them to Mrs. Spratt in town.
“Do you have anything of Zelle’s that you want washed?”
Did he? Jack swallowed. “Sure. That is, if you don’t mind?”
A little smile, and a shrug. “The water’s still hot. We could even have a bath later.” She rolled to her feet and went into the bedroom, shut tight against drafts. When she returned, holding a bundle of not just Zelle’s, but his dirty shirts as well, he saw the way her nose was scrunched up, and knew why. The bedroom wasn’t any nicer than the rest of the house. The blankets on the bed weren’t any finer than the ones he’d laid out for her last night; remnants that the previous owner had left in the barn before he’d died last year.
Yeah, he and his princess lived a rough life, but so what? He was learning to get by on his own, thanks to all those how-to books he’d sent off for. They were doing alright; Zelle hadn’t starved yet, even if her little shirts weren’t the cleanest.
But as he watched Meri wring out and hang up one of his socks, Jack couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder if maybe, having a wife to share all of this with wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe Zelle—still sleeping in his arms—wouldn’t mind having a momma.
Oh yeah, he’d seen the way Meri had reacted that morning, when he’d said the word “momma” to his princess. He’d watched her eyes go wide and her cheeks pinken. And he’d liked it. Had wanted to make her do that again, even if it meant calling her “momma” again and again.
He had to admit that while Zelle hadn’t let him put her down yet today, Meri was pretty good with the little girl. Their surprise houseguest had been quick to jump in with advice and suggestions when the girl refused any of the beans they’d eaten for lunch. Of course, Meri hadn’t seemed too thrilled with them either, but Jack didn’t defend his cooking. He’d learned to cook out of Mrs. Howard’s recipe book, and he didn’t know how to cook much else, yet.
But they’d eaten the leftover biscuits with his beans, and Hooooo-weee had they been good. Not the best thing he’d eaten over the last year, but the best thing he didn’t have to pay for. Her cooking was miles beyond his, and just the way the house smelled this morning made up for at least a year’s worth of prison fare.
Yeah, she was someone he could get used to having around.
Had someone—whoever’d set up that fake ad—done him a favor? Whoever he was, he hadn’t done Meri any favors; she thought that she was getting some citified dandy, and was stuck out here with him. Oh, he knew the city well enough. But he didn’t know damn well anything about being “citified”.
But maybe she didn’t need to know that. Maybe he could convince her…
He caught the direction of his thoughts, and scowled. Convince her to what? To stay? Just because she made his shirts smell like her hair, and because she could cook better than he could?
Jack scowled deeper at the thought, and turned his attention back to his princess, curled up against him. They’d been doing alright without anyone else. Zelle loved him, and that was all he needed. When she whimpered in her sleep, and he remembered Meri saying that she loved kids, he found himself wondering: Yeah, but am I all that Zelle needs?
He didn’t have time to wonder about that, because Meri had rolled down her sleeves and stretched—he tried not to notice the way her blouse pressed against her breasts—and then crossed to stand beside him. He turned towards her, and his expression must’ve been seriously ugly, because she actually took a step backwards.
“I’m…” She swallowed, but then—God love her—tried again. “I’m sorry to bother you, Doctor Carpenter.”
Guilty for making her feel
so hesitant, he forced a bland expression. “Jack, remember?”
“Jack.” She squared her shoulders, and Jack let himself watch. She certainly was a sight. Something good and fine that had been dropped into his life. More than he deserved, sure, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. Want her.
“Jack, have you noticed…” She trailed off again, but when he lifted a brow in question, she continued. “Zelle was tugging at her ear earlier, and rubbing her cheek. Could she be teething?”
It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “Be what-ing?”
“She looks about that age when her back teeth—the big ones—could be pushing through. Have you checked?”
It hadn’t even occurred to him that Zelle’s illness was due to her teeth. He knew how to pull infected teeth—using whatever tools he had on hand, usually—but didn’t know a damn thing about them growing in. Sure enough, he stuck one finger back in her mouth—glad that she was finally asleep—and felt around. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but the area behind three of her back teeth seemed warmer and harder than it should be. When he pressed on the skin, she whimpered suddenly and thrashed. He got his finger out of there just in time, and looked up to meet Meri’s dark eyes.
She smiled slightly. “I noticed that she was chewing on her hand a lot, and drooling.”
“She always does that.”
“That much?”
He shrugged, willing to concede. “Nah, I guess not. Drooling, rubbing her face, and her teeth feel funny. I’d say you’re right.” He gently shifted Zelle, and then stood, not minding the way he towered over Meri. Standing beside her made him feel…like a real man. Almost. And the way she smiled at the baby made him start wondering again…
