Courting the Doctor's Daughter

by Janet Dean

  Then his stare slid to Ben and stayed.

  Ben giggled. “That’s not her name. Her name is Mary Graves.”

  “Mary Graves.” Her name rolled off Luke’s tongue. “Is this boy your…son?”

  Why would he ask such a question? Unless—

  Unable to continue the thought, Mary’s heart jumped into her throat and wedged there, closing off her speech. Still gripping Ben’s hand, she took a step, but the peddler blocked her way, looming over her. “Let me pass,” she said.

  But he didn’t move aside. If anything, he looked more determined. Warning bells clanged in Mary’s head.

  “Yoo-hoo! Mary!”

  Mary whirled toward Carrie Foley, eager for the interruption, for anything that’d take the focus off Ben.

  Carrie reached them and chucked a gloved hand under Ben’s chin. “Hello, dearest.”

  The little boy beamed at the woman who cared for him while Mary worked at the office.

  Carrie turned to Luke Jacobs. “Aren’t you the man peddling that remedy?”

  Luke tipped an imaginary hat, all smiles. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  “The sign on your wagon boasts your tonic will cure headaches and stomachaches. Does it work?” She waggled a finger at him. “Now, before you answer, I’ll have you know I’m a pastor’s wife.”

  “Yes, my remedy works.” He chuckled. “Even for pastor’s wives.”

  Mary shifted her eyes heavenward. As if the rogue didn’t grasp Carrie’s meaning.

  “Did you hear that, Mary? You ought to get a bottle for your headaches.”

  Luke Jacobs turned toward Mary, flashing the dimple in his cheek. Of all things, her legs turned to jelly, like she didn’t have the gumption to stand on her own two feet.

  “I’d be happy to give Miss Graves a free sample. She need only ask.” Mary started to protest, but before she could, the scalawag gave a nod. “Good day, ladies,” he said, striding away.

  Ben grimaced. “Ouch, you’re hurting my hand.”

  Mary eased her hold. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I…” What excuse could she give? She’d been so unnerved by Mr. Jacobs’s presence that she’d wrung Ben’s hand like the neck of a Sunday fryer.

  “Isn’t he the nicest man?” Carrie said. “I should’ve invited him to church.”

  Mary wouldn’t find Luke Jacobs’s name under Webster’s definition for nice. Nice would be seeing the man drive his rig out of town.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about my nephew’s rash. Is something going around?” Carrie said and then shot her a curious look.

  Heat rose in Mary’s face. “Ah, not that I know of.”

  “It’s probably that homemade soap. I told my sister it’s too strong for that boy’s skin, but it’s cheaper than store-bought and…”

  As Carrie chatted about the boy’s rash, Mary nodded, barely able to concentrate. Luke Jacobs exhibited interest in Ben beyond ordinary courtesy. Instinct urged her to rush Ben home.

  Evidently satisfied that lye soap caused her nephew’s mysterious rash, Carrie said goodbye, then touched Mary’s sleeve. “Oh, look. That peddler’s coming back.”

  Still clinging to Ben’s hand, Mary pivoted, almost colliding with Luke Jacobs. Wobbling on her feet, she gasped. He reached out a hand to steady her, then let go. A warm sensation shot through her and fluttered against every nerve.

  In his other hand, Mr. Jacobs held the ball Ben wanted. Mary swirled to the store window, to the empty spot where the toy had been.

  “This is for you.” The rogue bent down and put the ball into Ben’s outstretched hands. “I saw you admiring it.”

  “Thank you!” Ben beamed, clinging to it with both hands. “Look, Mary, look what the nice man gave me!”

  Hot anger sliced through Mary. Surely he’d heard her refuse to buy the toy. While she’d talked to Carrie, he’d gone into the store and bought it. She wanted to snatch the ball out of the youngster’s arms, but he’d raise a ruckus. Besides, that would be cruel. She couldn’t blame Ben that this cad took pleasure in undermining her authority.

  The peddler sat on his heels in front of her son. “I’m Luke. What’s your name?”

  “Ben.”

  “Ben. Ben,” the man repeated, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

  Mary’s heart tripped in her chest. He’d used the gift as a way to obtain Ben’s name. She took a step closer.

  “Red’s my favorite color,” Ben said, still smiling at Luke, chattering on as if he’d made a new friend. “I have a red truck, and now I have a red ball with yellow stripes and blue stars.”

  Under Ben’s direct gaze, Luke wavered, as if he didn’t know the first thing about children. Well, good.

  “Ah, red’s my favorite color too,” he said.

  Ben smiled. “Do you like stars?”

  “Yes, ’specially stars in the night sky.”

  “Mary showed me the Big Dipper.” Ben lowered his voice. “I didn’t see it, but I pretended cuz Mary is real nice.”

  The vendor chuckled, his expression exhibiting fascination with Ben, his gaze never leaving the boy’s face. “You’re a smart young fellow.”

  Touched by Ben’s obvious delight at the man’s words, Mary’s heart twisted, then unfurled. Luke Jacobs wasn’t above using every trick at his disposal to entice Ben, a boy hungry for a man’s attention.

  Ben nodded. “I know my colors and I can count by tens.” He took a deep breath. “Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, seventy, oh, ah, I mean sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, one hundred.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Michael taught me.” Beaming, Ben’s small chest puffed with pride. “Want to play catch? Mary can’t play good cuz she wears dresses. Girls don’t like playin’ catch.”

  Luke Jacobs glanced around, as if uncertain how they’d manage a game on the walk.

  Mary tugged Ben closer. “We don’t have time to play.”

  The boy’s lower lip trembled and his eyes glistened.

  Luke ruffled Ben’s hair, then dropped his hand to his side. “Maybe next time.” He rose and turned his dark gaze on Mary, full of interest, sending a shiver down her spine. “Would you allow me to take you and Ben to lunch, Miss Graves?”

  The nerve of that man. Shaking her head, Mary scooped up Ben, pushed past her adversary and hurried up the street, listening for his footsteps, but she heard nothing but her breath coming in harsh spurts.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The peddler remained where she’d left him. Still, she couldn’t risk letting him know where she lived. Her hands trembled. He could show up at her door, demanding to see Ben.

  Instead of going home, she’d go to The Ledger. Charles would know how to get that man out of this town.

  The sooner, the better.

  Realization crashed over Luke, kicking up his pulse like a runaway mustang. The boy’s name was Ben. He looked to be around four. The fact he called Mary by name and the resemblance to his childhood pictures left no doubt in his mind. This boy was his son.

  Luke’s throat clogged. I’ve found him. I’ve found Ben.

  The youngster looked well cared for and happy. He’d give Mary Graves that much. As soon as he determined Ben’s condition and sold the rest of his inventory, he could return to New York and his lab, assured the lad would be fine.

  The prospect of never seeing his son again twisted in his gut. Odd how he’d found the boy’s every word and action enchanting. Ben’s innocence and delight tugged at Luke. That pull left him shaken, unsteady, as if the earth had shifted under his feet. He tossed the strong feeling aside, refusing to be drawn into Ben’s life.

  If he did, he’d only ruin it.

  But before he could leave, Luke had to know if the child had inherited the family curse. Only then could he depart in good conscience, knowing he’d armed the child’s new family with the proper knowledge, so Ben wouldn’t suffer as Luke’s brother had.

  Yet, something else nagged at Luke. Why did his son call Miss Graves Mary, instead of mo
ther? Did Ben feel unconnected?

  Luke knew the feeling, knew the necessity of keeping his distance. Until he could leave, he vowed to maintain his reserve in a town that appeared woven together as tightly as a well-made blanket.

  He’d already seen wariness in Mary Graves’s flashing green eyes. He suspected she could make trouble for him. How much trouble remained to be seen.

  Chapter Five

  Holding Ben in her arms, Mary hustled toward The Ledger, greeting the people she knew but avoiding conversation. She couldn’t waste a moment in idle chitchat, not after that disturbing encounter with Luke Jacobs.

  Inside the newspaper office, Teddy Marshall, Charles’s typesetter, ran the printing press. The noise drilled into Mary’s aching head until it throbbed. The strong smell of ink hung in the air, as if the printed words hung there too. In her mind, frightening headlines swirled: “Medicine Man Makes Off With Orphan. Local Boy Claimed By Peddler.” At the prospect of losing Ben, Mary could barely breathe.

  Charles rose from behind his desk, and Mary put Ben down. Still clutching the ball, the little boy ran to his uncle, throwing his free arm around Charles’s legs, and beamed up at him. “A nice man gave me a new ball!”

  Charles shot Mary a puzzled look, and then smiled at Ben. “That’s a great ball, Ben.”

  Though taller and leaner than Sam, her brother-in-law looked enough like her deceased husband to have been his twin instead of his older brother. Some days the resemblance hurt, fueling Mary’s regrets, but today the likeness brought comfort. Since Sam’s death, Charles had been her rock. He would help her.

  He kissed Mary’s cheek. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  “I’ve got a headache.”

  “One of your bad ones?”

  She nodded. If only Charles knew. This time her headache was six feet tall and refusing to leave town.

  Without a word, Charles ushered her into a chair, then led Ben into the back where he kept treats and toys for his children. Ben could play freely there while she unburdened herself to Charles.

  He returned and gave her a smile. “Ben’s nibbling graham crackers and rolling his ball into the wall.” He motioned across the street. “You just missed Addie. She finished her column, then walked over to her shop to go over the accounts. Why don’t you join her for a cup of tea? I know she’d like a break, and a visit might do you good. I’ll keep an eye on Ben.”

  Charles’s wife had become Mary’s best friend. She’d like nothing better than to confide in Addie. But her thoughts about Luke Jacobs were mere speculation. Still, they would alarm her sister-in-law, especially after what she’d been through with William and Emma.

  “Actually, I want to talk to you.” Mary glanced out the window, relieved to see no sign of Luke Jacobs. “Alone.”

  The crease deepened between Charles’s brow, and he took a seat across from her. “Sounds serious.”

  “Have you heard about the new peddler in town?”

  He nodded. “We’re always looking for news. Today, he was it.” He smiled. “From what my reporter said, you weren’t on the town’s welcoming committee.”

  Mary bit her lower lip. “That man has me in a tizzy, Charles. First selling a remedy he concocted himself, making all kinds of claims about what it can do. Folks can’t throw their money away fast enough.”

  Charles took Mary’s hand. “Just because your mother took ill from nursing a peddler isn’t a reason to judge them all.”

  Mary couldn’t think about her mother. Not now.

  But Charles’s words reminded her that the Bible had plenty to say about judging others—none of it good. Still, how could she protect her loved ones if she wasn’t alert when problems came knocking?

  “Ben and I ran into him a few minutes ago. From the rapt expression on his face, he has a special interest in Ben. He even went against my wishes and bought him a ball.”

  “I’m surprised he disregarded your authority, but I can’t see any harm in being generous.”

  “I do, if he bought the ball to get into Ben’s good graces and discover his name. Why would he do that? What does he want?”

  She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. Luke Jacobs meant trouble. Not merely for her or this town but perhaps for Ben, an innocent little boy she loved like her own.

  Charles rose and crossed to the window, staring out on the street. Her brother-in-law guarded his opinions until he had all the facts, which Mary found both endearing and frustrating. But today she wished he’d drop his editor hat and share her apprehension, instead of refusing to sense a threat when it stared him in the face.

  “Other than his expression, did he say something to alarm you?”

  “Well, no, but Sheriff Rogers said when he mentioned the orphans, Luke Jacobs’s eyes lit.”

  “I’d hardly call that evidence of a particular interest in our orphans.”

  “Mark my words, Charles. Nothing good will come from that peddler’s presence in our town. I can feel it in here.” She tapped the spot over her heart.

  Yet, if she hadn’t been taken with Luke Jacobs, why did she get lost in his dark, captivating eyes? How could that scoundrel have that control over her?

  The man was a magician, pure and simple.

  Charles crossed to her and took her hand. “Let’s not panic. Still, we should pray about this, asking God to put His shield around Ben.”

  But even as she heard Charles’s words and admitted their wisdom, Mary knew she would not stand by waiting on God and let Luke Jacobs destroy Ben’s world.

  Saturday afternoon, Luke climbed the stairs to the room over the Whitehall Café, his home in this town whether Mary Graves liked it or not.

  His landlords had equipped the space with old, mismatched furniture, shabby but surprisingly comfortable and clean. When he crawled into the iron bed at night, the springs creaked, but a cozy quilt covered the mattress. Quite a change for him, a man accustomed to posh dwellings and elegant restaurants. This trip had been yet another in a long string of lessons on what mattered. With a roof over his head and food in his stomach, he had everything he needed.

  When he’d spoken to the café owner Monday, she’d appeared glad to have him move in, gladder still to get his money, though disappointment he’d rent by the week had clouded her eyes. She’d asked for cash in advance, no doubt seeing him as shiftless.

  Not so long ago, her description would have fit him like a glove. If only he’d done right by Lucy. If only he could undo his past. How could he have repeated the family history he despised?

  He slumped into a chair by the window, staring aimlessly at the street. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t erase those years when he’d rejected God. He’d tried to make up for his past. Spent months searching for Lucy and his child, only to learn she’d died from complications not long after delivering his son. Every piece of the puzzle since that revelation had shaken him to the core.

  His eyes stung. That he could never ask her forgiveness for covering his responsibility with a pile of dollars rippled through him. His only recourse now was to ensure Ben was loved and would not pay for his father’s sins. Luke’s breath caught.

  Father. Luke could barely wrap his mind around the word. He didn’t feel like a father. He didn’t know how to be a father. He didn’t want to be a father.

  He rose and paced the room. His central goal, to find a cure for epilepsy without potent narcotics like laudanum, had evaded him. He’d interrupted his quest to find Ben. Now that he’d found him, he’d stay just long enough to evaluate his health and make certain he received good care.

  He couldn’t believe the aggravating woman who’d claimed his medicine contained spirits was Ben’s guardian. She’d be surprised to learn his remedy was a concoction of catnip, peppermint, chamomile and honey. Despite what catnip did to cats, he’d found the herb a safe and effective tranquilizer for humans and an excellent treatment for insomnia, colds, colic, upset stomachs, nervous headaches and fevers. This trip gave him
the opportunity to test his remedy’s effectiveness on a considerable number of people. Its success pleased him. When he returned to New York, he’d expand production.

  In the meantime, unless Luke planned to give up eating, he needed money. Setting up his lab had devoured most of his savings. The rest went to producing his medicine and buying his rig. He had no choice but to wire his housekeeper and ask her to close up his house. He could no longer afford to pay her salary.

  His sorry financial state was exactly what he deserved, according to his father, who ridiculed Luke’s refusal to spend a dime of the family money.

  But nothing came without a price and the price of sharing in the Jacobs wealth was more than Luke was willing to pay. First thing tomorrow he’d look for work.

  In the meantime, he’d find ways to spend time with his son without raising Mary Graves’s suspicion.

  Mary shifted in her chair, wishing she could be anywhere but here. Luke Jacobs had turned her life upside down, and she’d let her chores slide. The list grew longer every day: washing, ironing, mending, cleaning. She’d promised to take food to the Shriver family, to make sure Mr. Lemming took his medicine and then tonight she had a Sunday school lesson to prepare. Even with the boys’ help, she wouldn’t be finished by nightfall.

  But her father had pointed out it had been her idea to find another doctor for the practice and insisted she be present at the interviews with each candidate who’d answered her newspaper ad. She hoped this interview would bring the help Mary sought.

  The first applicant sat across from her. The hunched set of his shoulders and the way he twisted his hands gave Mary a bad feeling.

  Her father looked up from reading the young doctor’s résumé and shoved his reading glasses farther along his nose. “You finished last in your class, Dr. Edgar.”

  “Yes, but I passed the course.”

  “I’m not willing to turn my patients over to a doctor who barely passed medical school, especially a regional school like Central College of Physicians and Surgeons.” He rose. “I’m sorry, but I have to terminate this interview.”