Crossing Third Street, he saw Deborah Vandermark exit the commissary. Christopher couldn’t help but call out to her. Perhaps she was in town to borrow additional medical journals. He’d recently received several in a package from his mother.
“Miss Vandermark!”
Deborah looked across the street and saw him. He waved and she did likewise. “I have new journals,” he declared, closing the distance between them.
“How tempting,” she replied. “I will have to keep that in mind for my next trip into town. Right now, I’m afraid the workload at home is more than I can keep up with. There’s been no time for pleasure reading.”
“Just know that they are available whenever you’d like to borrow them.”
“So are you coming from a house call?” she asked, nodding toward his medical bag.
Christopher had decided to carry the bag with him when he went for his walks around town. That way people would get used to seeing him with it and perhaps realize he was the doctor. As it was, he doubted that he’d been able to meet more than a handful of citizens. He was a stranger to most.
“No, I just always take it with me in case there is a need.”
“I suppose that makes good sense.”
He chuckled. “Not really. Folks around here still don’t want anything to do with me. I suppose they all know that Mrs. Foster put a curse on me.”
Deborah laughed. “There aren’t many who haven’t had one of Mrs. Foster’s curses imposed on their peace of mind.”
“You?” he asked.
She nodded. “Once when I was quite young, I took some papaws from her yard. She ran after me with a broom yelling for all the world that with the setting sun, I would bear the thief ’s curse. Of course, I never knew exactly what that was. Mama heard about the situation and made me return with a batch of cookies and an apology. Mrs. Foster took the curse off and that was the end of that. I’ve avoided messing with Mrs. Foster ever since.”
“That’s no doubt for the best. Still, it seems most folks around here are afraid of her.”
Deborah looked past him toward the row of houses. “People fear what they don’t understand. In your case, medicine is a great mystery. Talk of things like bacteria and internal disorders makes no sense to them. You might as well be speaking a foreign language.”
“But there’s so much good that could be done. Women needn’t die in childbirth. Men needn’t die from injuries. Poor Mr. Perkins is beside himself. Here he is, taking money from the workers and giving me a good salary, and I’m doing nothing.”
Deborah put her hand up to block the sun. “It’s not for a lack of trying, though. Mr. Perkins knows you’ve made yourself available. He knows that you are willing to work at the task he’s hired you to do. You must hold on to the belief that time will change things.”
With the sun bearing down on them, Christopher motioned to the shade of the commissary porch. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if we got out of the sun.”
Deborah glanced around and nodded. “I’m actually waiting for my mother. She’s gathering the mail and seeing the paymaster.”
They made their way to the porch bench, where Deborah took a seat while Christopher remained standing. Her simple blue calico gown accentuated her trim waist and black hair, but it was her intelligence that continued to draw his admiration.
“So I presume your family is of Dutch ancestry with a name like Vandermark,” Christopher began. “Yet you have ebony hair and dark eyes.”
She glanced around and leaned toward him as if to share a great secret. “My mother’s side of the family had Spanish ancestry, as well as Dutch. I’m told that I take after my mother’s grandmother.” She eased back and grinned. “I just don’t say that too openly around here. There is still a fair amount of negativity toward Mexico and Spain.”
“Yet I’ve noticed that Mr. Perkins hires people of color for the sawmill work.”
“You will find that to be true in most of the mills around here. Workers are workers. If the men can be trained and prove capable, they are kept on. A lot of former slaves came here to work because Mr. Perkins has a reputation for being fair. My family has also hired former slaves for the logging business.”
“And what of your cook, Sissy? Was she also a slave?”
Deborah nodded. “She was with my mother’s family from birth. When the war came my grandparents thought to remain in Georgia. Things just got worse, however, and when the Emancipation was issued, my mother’s family took the matter seriously, much to their neighbor’s displeasure. Grandma and Grandpa told their slaves they were free to go. Someone set fire to their fields the next night. It nearly took down the house. They were worried about how much worse things would get, so they decided to board up the house and come stay with Mama and Papa.
“Sissy loved my mother and asked my grandparents if they might consider letting her accompany them to Texas. They did, and Sissy has been with Mother ever since.”
“And does she live with you?”
“No,” Deborah said, trying to adjust the ribbon in her hair. “She fell in love and married a man named George Jackson who works for us as a logger. They have a family and their oldest son, David, works for my family, as well. They have a house just north of town.”
The ribbon came free and Deborah’s black hair rippled down across her shoulder. “Goodness, but my hair can be a nuisance. Sometimes I think I should cut it all off.”
“No!” he responded rather enthusiastically. Deborah looked up in surprise, and Christopher laughed nervously to cover his excited reply. “I would hate to see you do that. I once treated a woman who needed to cut her hair following weeks of sickness and fever. The hair was hopelessly matted and falling out anyway, so she had it cut short. She was so miserable.”
“Well, it can be wretched with a mass of hair to contend with, too.” She managed to adjust the ribbon and pull the hair back up off her neck. “Especially in the heat.”
For a few minutes, neither one said anything else. Christopher thought of asking Deborah about the work she was doing for her family or maybe about her schooling back East, but he suddenly felt self-conscious as two young women made their way up the porch steps to the commissary. One was Mrs. Stevens; the other, he didn’t recognize.
“Hello, Sally,” Deborah called out. “Dinah.” She turned to Christopher. “You both know Dr. Clayton – don’t you?” The women turned rather shyly and nodded toward Christopher.
“Afternoon ladies,” he said. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Stevens?”
“Tired,” she replied. “Guess I’ve got about another month before the baby gets here.” She put a hand to her belly and nodded to the girl at her side. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. “We’re both tired.”
Deborah turned to Christopher. “This is Dinah Wolcott.”
He smiled. “Are you expecting, as well?”
The sallow-faced girl nodded and pushed stringy blond hair from her face. “Gonna have a young’un, come next year.”
“Well, congratulations. I’m sure your husband is delighted.”
Deborah turned to Christopher. “Her husband works for Vandermark Logging.” She smiled back at the young woman. “I’m sure Dr. Clayton will be able to help you when your time comes.”
The two young women exchanged a look. “Mrs. Foster’s been seeing to us,” Sally Stevens replied. “She said . . . well, that men got no good reason to be tendin’ women in a family way.”
“Bah,” Deborah said. “Women back East have men deliver their babies all the time. You know, there have been quite a few cases of childbed deaths in this area. Mrs. Perkins was quite upset at the number of young women passing on during delivery. That was one of the biggest reasons she brought in Dr. Clayton.”
Sally’s eyes widened. “You don’t suppose there’s a curse on this town – do you?”
Deborah shook her head. “I don’t believe God works that way. The Bible says Jesus became a curse for us – it also say
s that by His stripes we are healed. I think God has better plans for us than cursing us with dead babies and mamas. Just think about it. I know having a new doctor can be rather frightening, but I assure you Dr. Clayton is a knowledgeable man. Of course, I don’t have to tell you, Mrs. Stevens, since he saved your husband’s hand.”
She looked at the wood planks of the porch floor. “Miz Foster says it were her poultice that did the cure.”
Christopher started to comment, but Deborah got to her feet. “Mrs. Foster would, no doubt, say that, but you know as well as I do that your husband was in great pain when he came to the doctor. We both saw that hand. It wasn’t getting better – it was much worse than when Mrs. Foster began treating it. Wasn’t it?”
Sally Stevens nodded very slowly. “I reckon it was. I don’t rightly know what to believe. Mrs. Foster said my John could have lost his hand what with the doctor cuttin’ on it and all.”
“Mrs. Foster is just afraid that word will get around that her poultice didn’t help. I mean no disrespect to the woman, but you two must understand that for all her experience, she’s just a human being and she will make mistakes. Doctors make them too, but they have so much more training and understanding of the human body. I want you to really think about it, Sally. You too, Dinah. The lives of your babies, as well as your own life, might very well depend upon such reasoning. Don’t be afraid.”
The women murmured something Christopher couldn’t quite make out, then nodded toward him and Deborah and hurried into the store. He looked at Deborah, who was fussing with her rolled-up sleeves by this time.
“I appreciate your support,” he said softly.
Deborah glanced up and shook her head. “I hope they’ll listen. I would certainly hate to see more deaths in childbirth.”
“If Mrs. Foster would just listen to reason and sterilize her equipment and wash before and after tending to patients, it would help a great deal. I’m not opposed to herbal treatments and using nature for medicinal purposes, but it’s well-founded that thorough cleaning can terminate the growth of bacteria and save lives.”
“Well, I’m sure word will get around of what I said and I’ll receive another curse,” Deborah said with a grin.
He chuckled at the delight in her expression. “I’m still scandalized to know that you would steal from anyone.”
“I learned my lesson, Dr. Clayton. I haven’t stolen since. A green switch to my backside sealed the deal for me. I’m living a completely righteous existence now.”
Mrs. Vandermark came from the commissary just then, carrying several letters and a basket containing a variety of articles. Dr. Clayton offered to take the basket, but she waved him off.
“Thank you, but we have to get on home and the wagon is just over there in the shade. It’s good to see you again, Dr. Clayton. Do you think you could join us this evening for dinner? I figure if I don’t ask, you won’t just show up.”
“It hardly seems right to just drop by unannounced.”
“Around here, we don’t stand on such concerns,” Mrs. Vandermark replied. “I told you we wanted to see you joining us regularly, yet you haven’t been out since nearly a month ago. So will you join us this evening?”
He couldn’t think of anything he’d like better. “I would love to. May I bring something to help with the feast?”
She laughed. “Nothing but yourself.”
Deborah reached past him to take the basket from her mother. “We’ll see you tonight then, Dr. Clayton. I’ll take this now, Mother. Goodness, but it must weigh twenty pounds. What all do you have in here?”
Her mother laughed. “Only a small portion of what I needed. They’re bringing the rest by train when the supplies come in. Good day, Dr. Clayton. Dinner will be on at six.”
He watched them leave and felt a genuine loss in their going. The Vandermarks were among his few friends in Perkinsville. He especially enjoyed his conversations with Deborah, but knew it was probably just as well that she lived well out of reach. He had to remain focused. If he strayed from his purpose, others would suffer.
CHAPTER 11
Lizzie had never expected to see Stuart Albright again, yet here he was standing in the Vandermark living room. He pinned her with a stare that might have withered her had Deborah and G. W. not been standing at her side. A few feet away from Stuart, her mother, Harriet Decker, was conversing with Euphanel. It was all like a very bad dream.
Rob sauntered into the room casually after bringing the two visitors by wagon from Perkinsville. He just happened to be in town on one of his many Saturday evening courtships when someone from the boardinghouse had announced there were folks looking for the Vandermarks.
“It’s wonderful to get to meet you,” Euphanel told Harriet Decker. “Your daughter has spoken of you on many occasions.”
“Elizabeth is a thoughtless young woman,” her mother replied. “She has left us these many weeks worrying after her well-being.” With a quick glance around the simple room, the woman added, “And I see for myself it was with good cause.”
“Mother, there is no need for rudeness,” Lizzie interjected, trying her best to ignore Stuart’s continued glare. “Mrs. Vandermark and her family have been quite good to me. I have very much enjoyed living here with them.”
“Oh, the pleasure’s been ours, Lizzie. You are a great help to us,” Euphanel said.
“And you are an incredible teacher. Did you know, Mother, that Mrs. Vandermark has won awards for her canned goods? She’s been teaching me, and I find it all so very fascinating.”
“Well, that’s enough of that,” her mother replied. “We’ve come to take you home.”
Lizzie stiffened and looked to Deborah first and then G. W. “But I’m perfectly happy here.”
“But you have a husband who is not perfectly happy for you to remain here,” her mother said as she crossed the distance to where Lizzie stood. “You shamed this family by running away as you did. We were able to cover it up with the excuse that you were ill and needed to come west to take the cure, but now you need to return home.”
Lizzie shook her head. “No. I’m of age, and I choose to remain in Texas. And I hardly know why you call Mr. Albright my husband. We are not married. As you recall, I left before the ceremony.”
“But not before signing the papers,” Stuart declared. “It matters not that the traditions of religiosity were not performed. You are, by law, my wife.”
She would have laughed had Stuart’s expression not silenced her with its intensity. Married? How could it be? She had of course signed the papers given to her prior to the ceremony. They had been witnessed, and the minister had said that . . . that . . . Oh, what was it he had said? Something about it not being official until he joined them in the sight of God and man. Deborah and her father had both been convinced she wasn’t bound in any legal manner.
“I can see we’ve taken you by surprise,” her mother remarked. “See there, Mr. Albright. She didn’t run away as your wife. She simply had bridal nerves and thought herself still free to do as she pleased.” Her mother looked back to where Lizzie stood. “You know how I feel about marriage. I didn’t want you to marry in the first place. I saw no use in it. However, you’re married now, and that changes everything.”
Lizzie stumbled backward and might have fallen had G. W. not shot out his hand to take hold of her. Stuart’s eyes narrowed. He had always been very possessive of her – it was one of the things that drove her mother into fits and one of the reasons Lizzie had chosen to marry him.
“I cannot be married to you,” she said in a barely audible voice. “I made no vow.”
“Your vow was your signature. Now we must return to Philadelphia. I have work to do. My father is also quite anxious that I assist him with his legislative affairs, as well as our family investments.”
“I won’t go,” she said, shaking her head slowly. She looked at Euphanel and then Deborah. “I don’t want to go.”
“You needn’t go if you do not want to,
” Deborah said matter-of-factly. “Honestly, this is the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard.” She stepped in front of Stuart. “Why would you wish to be married to a woman who doesn’t love you?”
He laughed and Lizzie felt her knees grow weak. “Frankly, I have no love for her, either. In time, she will grow comfortable with my presence, and I shall enjoy being seen with her on my arm.” He sobered slightly. “In time I might even become fond of her.”
“And this is the life you want for your daughter, Mrs. Decker?” Deborah asked. “You would desire her to live in misery – to be used as ornamentation by this man?”
Lizzie saw her mother’s face contort. “As women, we will always be used by men. We might as well be the ones to decide who that man will be. My daughter gave her word. I care far more about her keeping her word than about whether or not she made a poor choice of masters.”
Lizzie could bear it no longer. “I can hardly believe that you, of all people, would say such a thing. I thought you believed women superior to men! I thought you said women had no need to be chained to a husband – they needed only to expand their minds with education and use them, in turn, to better their lives.”
Mrs. Decker looked taken aback for a moment, but it was Stuart who spoke. “I believe the choice was already made. This argument is a moot point. You are my wife, and you will return with me to Philadelphia.”
Deborah’s mother stepped forward in an attempt to calm the waters. “Why don’t we have some coffee or tea? We can all think better if we sit down and try to relax a bit. No doubt you two are very tired. You’ve been traveling for days, and we know how uncomfortable the train trip here can be.”
“I have no desire to take coffee or tea,” Stuart replied.
“Then you can return to Perkinsville,” G. W. said casually. “I’ll escort you back.”
Stuart looked at him in disgust. “Excuse me?”
“My brother is offering to take you back to the boardinghouse in Perkinsville,” Deborah interjected. “That way Mrs. Decker and Lizzie can have a bit of a discussion over coffee.”
Embers of Love Page 10
