Embers of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  Deborah could see that Lizzie was notably impressed. “There are a great many dangers no matter where you live. We had our share of desperate beasts in Philadelphia, as well,” Deborah offered. “Most were two legged and wore trousers, however.”

  Mother met her gaze and smiled. “I’m sure your experience here helped to keep you safer back there. However, I’m very glad to have you home now.”

  “Have you a beau, Miss Vandermark?” Annabeth asked innocently.

  For a moment, the question took Deborah by surprise. “I hadn’t the time for such things. I needed to get my education so that I could come back to Perkinsville and help my family. It was what my father wished for.” Deborah saw Mother frown, but continued. “As I understand from Uncle Arjan, we need to totally modernize our methods of doing business. I’m going to see to it that this happens in an orderly fashion.”

  “Oh, I would hate to have to work,” Maybelle said, fanning herself furiously. “Just the thought of trying to add up numbers and keep track of orders . . . Goodness, but you are more – oh, what’s the word I want? Well, I suppose industrious would do. You’re more industrious than I, what with your interests in things related to business.”

  Deborah knew that the comment was a veiled insult. What Maybelle really seemed to be inferring was that Deborah was less womanly – more masculine in her concerns. But again, Deborah held back. There was certainly nothing positive to be gained by cutting Maybelle Perkins down a peg or two.

  “Oh, we simply must tell them about the new gowns we have ordered,” Annabeth said, as if to cover up for her sister’s indiscretion. “Mother ordered us new dresses from France. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “To be certain,” Lizzie answered with a sympathetic glance at Deborah. “Of course, there aren’t quite as many grand occasions to wear them as we enjoyed in Philadelphia, I suppose.”

  Deborah appreciated her friend’s effort, but didn’t wish for the Perkinses to dislike Lizzie. She smiled and patted her friend’s hand. “I hope we shall see your new gowns at the Christmas dance, perhaps?”

  The girls tried unsuccessfully to suppress their excitement. “That is our desire, as well. Mother was assured they will reach us in plenty of time.” Annabeth’s volume was increasing with her enthusiasm. “My gown is lavender, and Maybelle has one of iced blue. I am positively delirious at the thought of actually wearing the gown for the first time.”

  Mother lifted the china pot. “I’m sure it will be an occasion to remember. Now, would anyone care for more coffee?”

  “None for me,” Mrs. Perkins replied. “In fact, I’m afraid the hour has slipped Mr. Perkins’s attention. We should be making our way back. I’ve so enjoyed our evening.”

  Deborah watched her mother replace the pot and offer Mrs. Perkins a gracious smile. “As have we. I’m so glad you were able to talk Mr. Perkins into bringing us a doctor. The community will benefit from such generosity.”

  “Well, there’s still Mrs. Foster to deal with,” Rachel Perkins said in a conspiratorial tone.

  Deborah’s mother nodded. “She’s served the area as healer and midwife for a very long time. She will, no doubt, be put off at such modernizing.”

  “But with all of the deaths we’ve suffered over the last few years – especially with our women,” Mrs. Perkins replied, “I hardly think we can do anything else. Perhaps it’s her age, but Margaret Foster is clearly unable to deal with the needs of our town.” The two Perkins girls bobbed their heads in agreement. When their mother got to her feet, the sisters followed suit.

  “Do come see me when you are next in town,” Mrs. Perkins told Deborah’s mother. She turned then to Deborah and Lizzie. “You are also welcome. It’s so pleasant to have good friends drop by for a visit.”

  “Thank you, Rachel. I’m sure we will take you up on the offer very soon,” Mother replied.

  They departed, and Deborah was relieved to see them go. She thought the nonsensical Perkins sisters absolutely exhausting. “And to think I considered encouraging G. W. to take up with one of them.”

  “What was that?” Lizzie asked.

  Deborah shook her head. “Nothing much. Just glad to see this evening come to an end. Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “I found it all very fascinating.” Lizzie looped her arm through Deborah’s. “Your family all seem to genuinely enjoy one another’s company. What a concept.”

  Deborah laughed and squeezed Lizzie’s arm. “At times we are less congenial, but for the most part we are quite companionable.”

  “I wish I might have known the same in my family.”

  Her wistful tone caused Deborah to stop. “You can be a part of my family now. We shall love you as our own. And who knows – maybe one day you will truly be a part of it. I do, after all, have two unmarried brothers.”

  Lizzie laughed and playfully nudged Deborah with her elbow. “Yes, and one seems to constantly notice my every move like a child with a new puppy, while the other has no interest whatsoever. Hardly encouraging.”

  Deborah joined in her friend’s laughter. “Well, take heart, Miss Decker. Your visit has only begun. Who is to say what will happen in the days to come?”

  CHAPTER 5

  Christopher Clayton frowned as he caught sight of the unpacked crates. He felt he’d been unloading supplies all morning. When Zed Perkins hired him to be the new company doctor, Christopher had given him a long list of things that would be needed for a proper medical facility. As far as he could tell, Mr. Perkins had purchased everything he’d requested. Now it was his job to find a place for each article.

  Another task would be to figure out how to keep the dust and soot from coating everything. Christopher was a firm believer that fresh air was healthy and helped to promote healing; however, the air quality in this town would not always be beneficial. If the wind was blowing just right, it appeared that Perkinsville could escape the worst of it. But if the day was calm, folks just had to endure the smoke and soot put out by the sawmill chimneys.

  He ran a finger along the windowsill and shook his head at the collection of blackened dirt. He would have to figure out something that could be done. Perhaps if he tacked up material across the windows? It would have to have a very fine weave to hold out the damaging elements while still allowing fresh air. Wiping his finger on his already dirt-stained trousers, Christopher turned back to the job at hand.

  He was generally pleased with the arrangements Mr. Perkins had made. The man had built the facility to the doctor’s suggested specifications. While most of the houses here were of unfinished wood, the new doctor’s office and infirmary was a stark white. Christopher had made a firm requirement that everything be whitewashed for easy cleaning. It stood out in the tiny town just as Christopher had hoped it would.

  The front door opened into a small waiting area, and behind that was a private office that led into the examination room. Beyond the examination room was the infirmary. There were four cots and a washstand in this room, with a back entrance that allowed for easy access from the mill. The thought had been that should a terrible accident arise, it would allow for a wounded man to be brought in without making a scene.

  A side door off the infirmary led to Dr. Clayton’s private quarters. There he had a small kitchen, living room, and bedroom. It was nothing fancy, but neither did it need to be. Christopher was quite content.

  “Hello?” A knock followed the female voice.

  “I’m in the back,” he called in reply. He hoped fervently that it wouldn’t be a patient in need, for he wasn’t ready to set up shop just yet.

  Deborah Vandermark marched through the doorway with a plate extended in front of her. She looked rather like one of the wise men presenting his treasure to the Christ child. “I have come bearing a gift,” she announced.

  He smiled. “I can see that.”

  She returned his smile, and he very much liked the way it seemed to spark a fire in her dark brown eyes. “Mother made fresh doughnuts and instructed me to bring
you a batch straightaway. I rode the train into town when they brought a load of wood.”

  He took the plate from her and put it on a nearby table. “Well, that was most kind of you. You will have to thank your mother for me.”

  “I will. It looks like I caught you at a bad time,” she said, glancing around the messy room. “Might I help? The train won’t be heading back for another hour.”

  “I couldn’t let you spend your day laboring over this mess.” He reached absentmindedly for one of the doughnuts and had it in his mouth almost before he realized it. The pastry practically melted on his tongue. “Oh, this is delicious.”

  Deborah turned and smiled. “My mother makes the best in the county.”

  “Along with biscuits?”

  She laughed. “And many other things. So what is all of this? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Not at all.” He moved to where she stood. “This box has medical supplies. I ordered them from Mr. Perkins. The next crate holds many of my personal books and medical journals, and the others . . . well, I haven’t opened them yet so I’m not exactly sure what they hold.”

  “I presume you will have an office?”

  He nodded. “The small room you came through on your way back here – the one with the bookshelves – will be my office. This is the examination room. Through that door over there is the infirmary, where I can care for long-term patients. Mr. Perkins had the entire structure built according to my suggestions.”

  “And are you pleased?”

  “Very much so. Mr. Perkins also ordered the equipment I asked for. I was rather surprised to find most everything waiting and ready. He even managed to get this examination table for me.” Christopher put his hand to the metal table.

  Deborah reached into the crate of books. “Why don’t I start by putting the books on the shelves? You can organize them at a later date, but at least it will get them out of the box.”

  “Thank you. It’s most kind of you to help.”

  “I’m just nosy, that’s all,” she said in a teasing tone. “I love to read. Books are simply irresistible to me. I think I shall miss the libraries back East most of all.”

  “I gather your love of literature is rather unusual around here.”

  Deborah took up several large books. “Sadly, that is true. Folks leave school at an early age in order to work or marry. Reading is a luxury and books are a novelty. So, too, is having a doctor. You do realize that you might not be well received at first.” She didn’t wait for an answer but trotted the books to the office.

  When she returned Christopher couldn’t help but ask, “Why is that?”

  “Margaret Foster has taken care of folks around here for as long as I can remember. She’s a widow with three grown sons.”

  Again she headed off with more books, then quickly returned. Christopher admired her petite form as she bent to pick up additional medical tomes. “And she’s the reason I won’t be accepted?”

  “Partly. People can be very odd. Mrs. Foster is superstitious, and she’s convinced a lot of other folks to see things the way she does.” Deborah straightened and smiled. “But she didn’t have to try that hard. Superstition walks hand in hand with ignorance.”

  “I’ve found that to be true,” he replied, nodding. “But somehow I don’t think that’s a concern with you.”

  “Hardly.”

  Christopher laughed. “So what is a concern of yours?”

  She shrugged and stopped to consider his question. “There are a great many things that concern me. My family’s welfare is probably at the top of the list. Helping the people of this community is another.”

  “I heard someone say that your father passed away a few years ago.”

  “Nearly three. He was killed in a logging accident.” Her expression sobered. “It was very hard on my family. We were all extremely close. We still are.”

  “I can well imagine. My own father was injured . . . in an accident.” He hesitated. “It nearly claimed his life, but instead left him crippled and my mother struggling to support my siblings.”

  “Oh my, and you’re the oldest of fifteen,” Deborah said, shifting the books. “How in the world does she do it?”

  He was touched by her concern. “Only the five youngest are still at home. The rest of us do what we can to help.” The conversation suddenly made him feel self-conscious. “It seems your family is good about helping one another.”

  “Oh, they are. Uncle Arjan and my father were brothers, and when Papa died, my uncle felt it was important to see to Mama’s needs. The boys inherited Papa’s land and business – that’s the way the law works down here. Everyone agreed, however, that Mama will never want.”

  “How was it that you ended up going to college?”

  “The blessings of a wealthy aunt – one of my mother’s sisters. My folks needed me to learn what I could in order to help the business. My brothers weren’t interested in an education. You’ll see that about most folks. However, I hope that will change around here. I believe most people are ignorant of the possibilities.”

  “And you intend to show them?”

  “I hope to. I want them to see how beneficial an education can be. There are some very hardworking people in this community. Education simply hasn’t been something that was valued.”

  “How do you propose to help them change their minds?” he asked, intrigued by this little powerhouse of a woman.

  “Mainly by example, I suppose. I’d like to show them how pleasant it can be to simply enjoy a good book – to be able to read the Bible for themselves. To better understand science, medicine. If they understand what you are able to do for them, Dr. Clayton, they will be more open to accepting you.” She headed back to the office once more with an armload of books.

  Christopher picked up several books and followed her. He waited until she’d secured the books on the shelf. “You really don’t have to keep doing this.” He placed his books beside hers.

  She eyed him intently for a moment. “Are you too proud to accept help?”

  He rubbed his bearded chin. “Not at all.”

  “Then what?”

  He liked her spunk. “The books can wait, actually. If you truly want to be useful, I need to get the examination office set up first.”

  Deborah dusted off her hands and headed back to the other room. “Very well. Let’s get to work. They’ll sound the whistle when the train is ready to head back up the line.”

  Helping Dr. Clayton set up his examination office was a great diversion for Deborah. She found it fascinating to unpack his medical equipment and listen to his reasons for placement. When she came upon a collection of medical journals, Deborah couldn’t help but thumb through a couple of them.

  “These look quite interesting.”

  “If you’re of a mind to read them, be my guest. Just bring them back.”

  She looked up to see if he was serious. His expression assured her he was. “I would like that very much.”

  “You may feel free to borrow any of my books, as well.”

  Deborah hugged the journals to her breast. “Do you always lend your books?”

  “Never,” he said, turning back to a crate he’d been emptying.

  Deborah thought about this for several seconds and was about to extend an invitation to him to utilize her book collection when someone called out from the open back door.

  “Doc, you in there?”

  “I am,” Dr. Clayton announced. He moved to the door and welcomed in a man and woman.

  Deborah didn’t know the couple, but she knew their type. They were dirt poor, ill-kempt, and probably had no more than six years of education between them. The woman looked tired and was clearly with child. Her face was edged with lines and her hair was stringy and dirty. Neither the man nor woman looked as if they’d had a bath in a week of Sundays.

  “I’m Dr. Clayton. What can I do for you?”

  The man held up his hand. “I’m John. My wife here wanted me to see yo
u. My hand is hurtin’ me something fierce.”

  “What did you do to it?” Dr. Clayton led the man to the examination table and drew up a chair. “Just sit here and rest your hand on the table.”

  The doctor went to a bowl of water and washed his hands. Deborah saw him pour something onto his hands before taking up a clean towel. He then took up a brown bottle and another clean towel.

  Deborah could see the man’s hand had swollen to nearly double the normal size and was clearly inflamed. A jagged cut oozed green-tinged fluid. She watched as Dr. Clayton took the matter in stride.

  “How did you injure your hand?”

  “Cut it at work. Didn’t seem that bad. Miz Foster put a poultice on it, but it don’t seem to be any better.”

  The doctor continued his exam. “When was that?”

  Deborah couldn’t help drawing closer to see what was happening. The woman stepped forward, as well. “He cut it near a week ago. Ain’t been right since. Cain’t work with it like that.”

  “Now, Sally,” he said, throwing her a grin. “You stop your frettin’. I came here like you asked.”

  “And it’s a good thing,” Dr. Clayton announced. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t lose that hand.”

  “What?” The man was clearly stunned.

  “It’s desperately infected. I’m afraid this will be quite painful. Miss Vandermark, would you please bring over a basin and my scalpel set?”

  Deborah didn’t even question him. She hurried to do his bidding, rather excited to be of some help. The procedure that followed was not at all pleasant. Without so much as an injection of morphine to kill the pain, Dr. Clayton cleaned the hand and applied the knife. The infection shot from the wound, filling the room with a hideous smell.

  Unmoved by the situation, Deborah continued to follow the doctor’s instructions, handing him the supplies he needed to treat the infected hand.