by Amanda Cabot
Tabitha leaned back on the chaise longue that had come from Paris, stroking the purple satin covering. If her life wasn’t what she’d dreamed it would be—and it wasn’t—there was only one person who could change it. She’d done it before, exchanging a humdrum existence as a shopgirl for the glittering world of Cheyenne’s high society. She could do it again. She’d find a way.
Tabitha closed her eyes for a second, then smiled. A party. That was the answer. Hosting the city’s elite and showing off her beautiful home never failed to boost her spirits. So what if others didn’t hold parties this month. She would. And every important person in the city would come. By the time Thanksgiving Day arrived, they’d have a new reason to give thanks, for her gala would chase away everyone’s doldrums. Perfect.
She was still smiling ten minutes later when Nelson entered the room.
“We need to talk,” he announced.
Tabitha looked up, surprised to see her husband in the room that he had declared ostentatious. It had been months, perhaps even longer, since he’d crossed this threshold, but here he was. Her eyes narrowed, considering the man who’d been the object of her thoughts. It wasn’t like Nelson to be so abrupt, and it definitely was not like him to have that odd expression on his face. If Tabitha didn’t know better, she would have said that he’d just eaten something sour, but Nelson ate only at prescribed times.
“Certainly,” she said, smiling as sweetly as she could. Her smiles were practically guaranteed to improve Nelson’s mood. The silly man was drawn to them like bees to lilacs. “I wanted to talk to you too, sweetheart.” The endearment was his favorite, the one that never failed to put a smile on his face. Oddly, he did not smile today. “It’s time we host another party. I was thinking about inviting—”
“I’m afraid not,” he said, refusing to let her finish her sentence. His voice was harsh, his expression unyielding. Something was wrong, but for the life of her, Tabitha could not imagine what it was. “There will be no more parties,” he continued in that strangely cold tone. “There will be no more ‘we.’ It’s over.”
Tabitha shook her head, trying to clear her brain. Nelson was making no sense. It was almost as if a stranger had taken residence in his body. “What do you mean?”
He took a step closer, those brown eyes that had once sparkled when he looked at her now cold. “Exactly what I said. It’s over. Our marriage is over. I’m going to divorce you.”
Tabitha felt the blood drain from her face as the word registered. Nelson couldn’t be serious. This must be some sort of nightmare. If she waited a minute, she’d waken, and everything would be back to normal. She gripped the edge of the chaise in an effort to force herself awake, but it did no good. She was already awake, and Nelson was still standing there, that peculiar expression on his face.
“You can’t divorce me,” she said, blurting out her first thoughts. “I’ve given you no reason.”
“Don’t be so certain of that.” This time there was no doubt about it. Nelson was smirking, almost as if he were enjoying her discomfort. “You’ve refused to give me a child. That’s a mighty good reason for a divorce.”
Tabitha thought quickly. She couldn’t let Nelson divorce her. If he did, she’d be the laughingstock of Cheyenne. She knew people had laughed at Nelson when he’d married her, calling him an old fool. Tabitha hadn’t minded that. He had been a fool if he’d believed her protestations of love. But she would not let anyone laugh at her. There had to be a way to change his mind.
“You’ll never prove that was my fault.” The only person who knew about the ergot she’d taken the four times she’d found herself carrying Nelson’s child was her maid, and she would never divulge her mistress’s secret. Camille knew that Tabitha had not been joking when she’d said that the consequences of betrayal would be severe. Very severe.
“Won’t I?” Nelson’s lips twisted into a snarl. “Don’t underestimate my power or my determination. Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life, but staying with you would be even worse.”
Tabitha rose, moving slowly and seductively toward her husband. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. I know you love me.” She laid her hand on his cheek.
“Stop it, Tabitha.” Nelson brushed her hand away, then took a step backward. “Nothing you do will change my mind. This farce of a marriage is over.”
Tabitha stared at the man who’d promised to love and cherish her. There was only one possible reason that he was speaking such nonsense. “Who is she?”
As the long case clock in the hallway chimed the quarter hour, Tabitha watched Nelson carefully. She was right. Though he tried to hide it, the tightening of his lips and the downcast eyes betrayed his guilt.
“Who is who?” he demanded, his voice steely.
“The girl who’s caught your eye. That’s the reason you’re saying those things.” It was the only possible reason. “You’ve found someone younger than me. Tell me, Nelson, who is she?” It wasn’t anyone in society. Camille would have heard the rumors if that were the case. It must be another shopgirl. No matter. When she discovered her rival’s identity, Tabitha would make certain the woman understood that she would never, ever become Mrs. Nelson Chadwick. That was Tabitha’s name. She’d worked hard for it, and she wasn’t going to share it or the money it represented with anyone.
“There is no one.” Though his words were brave, Nelson still refused to meet her gaze.
“You’re lying.”
Half an hour later, Tabitha banged on Oscar’s front door.
“Let me in,” she shouted when he opened it. The fool had left her standing on the stoop for the better part of a minute. Didn’t he know that a lady’s reputation could be ruined for lesser offenses than calling on a single man? If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she wouldn’t have come, but there was no one else she could trust, and she couldn’t summon him to her house when Nelson was there.
“What are you doing here?” Oscar asked as he ushered her into his parlor.
Tabitha took a deep breath, forming her words. She hadn’t wanted to waste time having her carriage brought around, so she’d practically run the three blocks to Oscar’s home. Now that she was here, she wondered if she’d made a tactical mistake. Perhaps she should have summoned him, after all. It was too late for that. She was inside the modest building that Oscar called home. Though Nelson paid him a good wage, it didn’t compare to the profits Nelson took from the company. Oscar lived in a house a quarter the size of Tabitha’s and had no servants other than a woman who cooked, cleaned, and took care of the laundry.
Tabitha perched on the edge of a horsehair couch, patting the spot next to her. When Oscar was seated, she answered his question. “Nelson has gone crazy.” As she spoke, Tabitha watched Oscar’s expression. A feeling of relief rushed through her when he raised his eyebrows. It appeared that Nelson hadn’t confided his plans to Oscar. Perhaps he wasn’t serious. Perhaps there was still a way to change his mind. “He wants to divorce me.”
Oscar’s eyebrows rose another inch, his skepticism evident. “That doesn’t sound like Nelson. He loves you.”
Tabitha tried to control her exasperation. “Oh, Oscar, don’t be a fool. Nelson never loved me. He wanted me just like he wanted a fancy house and servants. Now he thinks he wants someone else.”
“Are you sure? The Nelson I know would never look at another woman.”
Hah! “I’m as sure as a woman can be. I told you before that he was seeing another woman. I thought it was a whore, but it appears that I was wrong. We need to find out who the woman is. Then we can plot our strategy.”
She hadn’t planned to say “we,” but when the word slipped out, Tabitha knew it was a stroke of brilliance, for Oscar’s expression changed. Instead of disbelief, she saw sympathy, and for the first time since Nelson had made his declaration, she realized that a divorce might not be a tragedy. Nelson would pay well for the privilege of divorcing her, and once he did, she’d be free. Free to convince Oscar they belonge
d together.
Tabitha smiled. Perhaps November wasn’t so bad after all.
She was tired. Bone tired. Elizabeth had heard that expression, but she had never before experienced the deep-seated ache that affected every part of her body. It had been a difficult two days as she found herself ministering more to her patients’ spirits than their bodies. The first day, Miriam had been so worried that her baby was no longer moving that she had sent Delia for Elizabeth. Even though the child was simply sleeping, Miriam had not believed Elizabeth’s reassurances and had insisted that she remain with her until she felt the baby move again. It had been then that Elizabeth had realized that bed rest, while essential for Miriam’s well-being, was giving her patient too much time to worry, and so she had agreed to pay a house call every day.
Next Louis Seaman had somehow climbed the ladder into the barn loft and had fallen out, breaking his arm. Though it was a simple fracture, Laura had been too distressed by her son’s injury to drive the wagon into town, and Lloyd had been working at the other side of the ranch. A neighbor had summoned Elizabeth. Even though it had been a pleasant day for a ride to the Seaman ranch, between the distraught mother and the injured son, Elizabeth had found herself with two patients, and she’d spent more hours than a broken arm should have required, simply because she needed to assure Laura that she was not responsible for her son’s accident.
“Children are curious,” she told the sobbing mother. “They like to climb and explore, and they don’t yet realize the consequences of things like hanging too far over the edge.” Elizabeth had had her own childhood experience with a barn loft. Lured there by the plaintive cry of a kitten, she’d fallen off the platform. Fortunately for her, she had landed in a pile of hay and had suffered nothing more than a few scratches.
She had returned from the Seaman ranch, intending to climb into bed as soon as supper was finished, but while she was eating, Kevin Granger’s hired man had knocked on the door. It seemed that all three girls were ill, and Kevin was at his wit’s end. And so Elizabeth found herself in the Granger girls’ bedrooms, trying to determine what ailed them. She felt heads, peered at throats, listened to heartbeats, and when she was done, her diagnosis was nothing more than three upset stomachs.
“Have they eaten anything unusual recently?” Leaving the girls alone for a moment, Elizabeth returned to the kitchen to question the young rancher, who was trying to be both father and mother to his daughters.
He shook his head. “Nothing. In fact, they ate less than normal at dinner today. They said they weren’t hungry. That was part of what worried me. My girls are always hungry, and then when they started clutching their stomachs and vomiting . . . Well, Doctor, I don’t mind telling you, I was mighty concerned.” Kevin was silent for a moment, thinking. “It makes no sense, unless . . .” He opened a cupboard door and frowned. “That’s it. I didn’t think they saw me put it there, but it’s gone.”
“What’s gone?” He wasn’t making a lot of sense.
“The candy. I bought a bag of candy. It was supposed to be a treat for them, but it looks as if they ate it all.”
Elizabeth knew better than to laugh, even though the girls’ gluttony was a simpler problem to cure than an infectious disease. “Do you think Rebecca and Rachel gave the baby some too?” she asked.
Kevin nodded. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t. Ruby is starting to eat solid food, and she tries to imitate the others whenever she can.”
“Then I think it’s safe to say there’s nothing more wrong with them than too much candy.”
“I’m sorry to have called you all the way out here for that.”
Elizabeth gave him a smile. “I’m glad you did. At least now we know what caused the problem, and I’ve had a chance to meet your daughters. If something more serious happens, I won’t be a stranger to them.”
His relief evident in the color that had returned to his face, Kevin nodded. “How much longer will they be sick?”
“The discomfort will take another few hours to subside,” Elizabeth told him. “If you like, I can stay until they’re all sleeping again.”
The man’s grateful expression told her he would not argue, and so Elizabeth gathered baby Ruby into her arms, intending to rock her until she fell asleep, while Kevin headed to the girls’ room to read bedtime stories to the older two.
Pacing slowly from one side of the kitchen to the other, Elizabeth crooned to the baby. “You’ll be all right, sweetie,” she murmured. And so would Elizabeth, once she got some sleep. She shouldn’t complain, and she wasn’t, for this was what she wanted to be doing. From the beginning Elizabeth had known that her schedule would be unpredictable and that her patients’ well-being came before everything else. Perhaps it was only because she was so tired that her thoughts veered into a different direction, but as she cradled Ruby in her arms, a desperate longing to have a child of her own lodged itself deep inside her.
Was it possible? When she’d told her parents of her intention to become a physician, they’d warned her that pursuing her dream would exact a high price and that she might never have what other women would consider a normal life. They had asked whether Elizabeth was willing to forgo having a husband and children of her own. At the time, she hadn’t believed it would matter. She had believed that being a doctor would be her whole life. Now she wasn’t so certain. Now she wondered whether there might be more to her life than simply healing others.
If only there were someone she could ask, but no one—not even her sisters—had been in this situation. Abigail had given up teaching when she married Ethan, and there’d been no question of Charlotte’s continuing to make dresses once she became Mrs. Barrett Landry. It was true that Charlotte was going to open a school for special children, but that was different. Barrett had been part of the plan from the beginning, and they’d both agreed it was the best way to give Charlotte’s son a close-to-normal future. For her part, Elizabeth had gone to medical school, intending to be a physician for the rest of her life.
Would she feel different if she had a child of her own? Would healing others become less important? Elizabeth didn’t know. All she knew was that there was a void deep inside her begging to be filled.
Help me, Lord, she prayed as she stroked Ruby’s head. Show me your plan.
She was the stupidest woman ever born. Gwen felt the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Soon they’d become a torrent. It had happened each night since Elizabeth had told her how dangerous the tonic was, but for some reason tonight was the worst. Perhaps it was because Elizabeth was on a house call and Rose had fallen asleep sooner than normal, leaving Gwen alone with her thoughts. Though those thoughts circled like a swarm of angry wasps, they centered on one thing: her stupidity. How could she have been so dumb? She had thought only of herself, never considering that the medicine that promised almost miraculous results might have harmed her, might even have killed her. If she’d died, Rose would have been alone. Her poor baby would have been an orphan, all because Gwen had been stupid.
She pressed her fist to her lips, trying to contain the sobs, but it was to no avail. Her sobs turned into wails as she berated herself for her mistakes. Gwen leaned against the wall that separated her apartment from Harrison’s as she looked down at her sleeping child. Rose was the most important part of her life. She’d known that, but still she’d jeopardized her daughter’s happiness. Stupid!
Tears bathed Gwen’s face as she tried to control her sobs. She couldn’t waken Rose. Her darling wouldn’t understand why Mama was crying. She shouldn’t even be in this room, and yet she found herself unable to move, unable to take her eyes from her daughter. Precious Rose.
As if from a distance, Gwen heard the sound of a door banging against the frame, followed by heavy footsteps.
“Gwen! Where are you, Gwen? What’s wrong? Is Rose ill?” Harrison barged into the bedroom, stopping short when the light from the kerosene lamp illuminated Gwen’s face.
She cringed. She hadn’t thought t
he day could get worse, but it had. Now Harrison would know how stupid she’d been.
“Rose is fine, but I don’t want to waken her.” Thanks to all the tears she’d shed, Gwen’s voice was barely recognizable. “Let’s go into the kitchen.” When she started to move, her legs began to buckle. Almost as if he’d anticipated that, Harrison crossed the room in three swift strides and wrapped his arm around her waist, steadying her. It was the first time he’d touched her like that, and though Gwen knew he meant to provide nothing more than support, the warmth and strength of his arm was comforting, helping to dispel the anguish that had filled her heart. She leaned on him as they walked the short distance through the parlor to the kitchen, and with each step Gwen felt her heart lighten. For the moment, instead of being alone, she was with the man she loved so dearly.
“What’s wrong?” Harrison asked again after he’d pulled out a chair and seated her at the table, treating her like a piece of fragile crystal rather than the lump of lard she knew herself to be. “Don’t try to say there’s nothing wrong. I heard you crying.”
That explained why he had come. When she’d succumbed to her misery, Gwen hadn’t considered that Harrison might be in his bedchamber this early and that he might hear her. Another stupid mistake. She covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t admit her stupidity. She couldn’t. And yet she needed to. Deep inside, Gwen knew that she owed Harrison an explanation. He’d cared enough to come here to learn what was wrong, and he’d tried to comfort her. He deserved the truth, even though it would reveal her foolishness. Resolutely, she lowered her hands and turned to face him.
