by Amanda Cabot
“Why don’t you stay for supper?” Though Kevin addressed the question to Elizabeth, he clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Your plan seems to be working. I’ve never seen so much food. It appears that every young woman in the congregation has brought me at least one huge meal. I may be able to hang up my apron soon.”
Bemused by the image of the tall rancher in a ruffled apron, Elizabeth did not respond. Jason did. “A home-cooked meal is one invitation I won’t refuse, but it’s up to the doctor.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Can you stay?”
“Please. You’d be doing me a favor.” Kevin added his encouragement.
“Thank you. I’d enjoy that.” While Elizabeth examined the girls and satisfied their curiosity about her stethoscope, the sound of pans rattling and the aromas of food warming came from the kitchen. Though it was a bit earlier than she was accustomed to eating, the delicious smells made Elizabeth’s stomach growl, provoking another peal of laughter from the girls. Their idea of playing, it seemed, involved inspecting the contents of Elizabeth’s medical bag and listening to each other’s heartbeats.
“Supper’s ready,” Kevin called before the novelty of playing doctor wore off.
“Come, girls.” Elizabeth gathered the baby into her arms and nodded to Rebecca and Rachel. “We need to wash our hands before we eat.”
Within minutes, they were all seated. Kevin indicated that Elizabeth should take the place at the foot of the table opposite him, with Jason and the baby in her highchair on one long side, the two older girls on the other. Though Elizabeth wondered whether the girls were disturbed by another woman in their mother’s chair, no one seemed to place any significance on it.
After Kevin offered thanks for the food, Rachel looked from Elizabeth to Jason. “Is he your pa?”
Jason sputtered and plunked the platter that he’d been holding for Elizabeth back onto the table.
“My pa?” Elizabeth was almost as amused at the idea of Jason being her father as he was and started to laugh. Her amusement faded a second later.
“She means your husband,” Kevin explained.
Her husband. Only in her dreams. Hoping no one noticed the flush that had colored her cheeks, Elizabeth turned toward the little girl. “Mr. Nordling is my friend, Rachel. I’m not married.”
“How come?” Rebecca demanded.
His lips twisted in a smile, Kevin turned to Jason. “How come? Seems to me you’re old enough to be married and have children of your own. Even if they do sneak candy, I wouldn’t trade mine for anything.”
Kevin gave his daughters a fond glance while Elizabeth tried to cool her cheeks by taking a sip of water. Though she knew the girls meant no harm, she hated the thought that Jason might be as embarrassed as she. The sooner they put this subject to bed, the better. Elizabeth looked from Rebecca to Rachel, keeping her voice neutral as she said, “I’m not married because I’m a doctor.”
Apparently content with the explanation, Rebecca nodded. “Oh, all right.”
Of course it was all right. There was no reason why Elizabeth should feel so empty inside, no reason why she wished she had a house, a husband, and children of her own. No reason at all.
Where was he? Tabitha arranged her skirts as she reclined on the chaise longue, trying not to frown at the realization that he was late. Though Oscar had once told her she looked seductive on the chaise, she was certain he would not find a frown appealing. Oscar liked women who smiled.
It wasn’t difficult to smile whenever he was near. He was young and handsome and, before she married Nelson, had made no secret of the fact that he found Tabitha attractive. Today there was an additional reason to smile. Oscar had sent a message, saying he had the answer she sought. Ten minutes later a discreet knock sounded on the door to her sitting room.
“Mr. Miller is here to see you, ma’am.” Tabitha’s butler inclined his head as he’d been taught. She hadn’t been able to convince him that he should click his heels the way she’d heard German butlers did, but other than that, he was the ideal servant. Tall, distinguished-looking, and obsequious.
“Show him in.” When the door closed behind Oscar, Tabitha extended her arm, expecting him to kiss her hand. He did not.
“I have good news,” he announced, taking the chair across from her rather than perching on the side of the chaise as she’d expected. Tabitha refused to be annoyed by his standoffishness. Oscar had brought good news. That was what was important.
“You discovered who she is.” She made it a statement, not a question.
He nodded. “I did, and you have no need to worry. Nelson will never marry her.”
Oscar must be mistaken. The only reason Nelson would have demanded a divorce was that he wanted to marry some other woman. “Why not? Is she already married?”
“Hardly.” Oscar’s lip curled with disdain, and for an instant, he was less than handsome. Tabitha would have to advise him not to curl his lips like that. Not today, though. There’d be time for that later, once they were married.
“So, who is she?”
Oscar curled his lip again. “She’s a madam. The woman Nelson spends his nights with is Phoebe Simcoe.”
“Phoebe!” Tabitha took a deep breath, trying to control her alarm. Of course she’d heard of Phoebe Simcoe. Who in Cheyenne hadn’t? Everyone knew that Phoebe ran the most exclusive bordello in the city, catering to the wealthiest men in town. Men like Nelson.
Phoebe was almost as young as Tabitha, and she was pretty enough, if you liked light blonde hair and blue eyes. Tabitha did not, but she had once heard Nelson say that blue-eyed blondes always made him think of angels. Phoebe Simcoe was no angel. That was certain. But if the rumors were accurate, she knew exactly how to please a man.
Oscar leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I don’t understand why you seem surprised. You once told me you thought Nelson was visiting a whore.”
“That’s true, but I didn’t realize it was Phoebe.”
“What’s the difference? A whore is a whore. Nelson will never marry one.”
Even if he didn’t, once his connection with Phoebe became common knowledge, Tabitha would die of embarrassment. Tabitha Chadwick thrown over for a whore! It was one thing for him to visit Phoebe while he was married to Tabitha. He wasn’t the only man in Cheyenne who paid for pleasure. But to divorce Tabitha and still continue to patronize Phoebe—that was unacceptable. Tabitha would never recover from that disgrace. She’d become the laughingstock of the city. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let that happen.
“Your baby’s fine, and so are you.” Elizabeth folded the stethoscope and placed it back in her bag, saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving that she could give Miriam the continued good news.
“Does that mean I can get out of bed?” Miriam sat up, her back propped by several pillows, and fussed with the bow on her mint-green bed jacket.
Though she would have liked to agree, Elizabeth knew she could not. “Not until you deliver. The good news is that remaining in bed has prevented more bleeding or other complications. If you continue taking care of yourself, you should have a healthy baby.”
Miriam nodded. “That’s what Richard and I want. It’s just so boring, staying here all the time. Mama and my friends visit, and they do their best to entertain me. Mama keeps bringing me new bed jackets.” Miriam fingered the one she was wearing. “She thinks they’ll make me happy, but all I want is to be out and about like you.” Miriam narrowed her eyes slightly. “I heard you and Jason went for a ride yesterday.”
It was clear there were no secrets in Cheyenne, not that there was any reason to keep the ride a secret. “He took me to call on some patients,” Elizabeth explained. “It turned out that the man was one of Jason’s friends, so we stayed for supper.”
Miriam nodded again, as if she’d heard that part of the story. “I’ll say one thing for Jason. He’s taking this courtship business more seriously than I thought he would.”
Closing her bag, Elizabeth looked st
eadily at Miriam. “He’s not courting me.”
“I know.” Miriam reached for the glass of water she kept on her bedside table and took a sip before she continued. “I told Richard you knew that Jason was only trying to protect your reputation.”
Though she’d been ready to leave, Elizabeth stopped in midstride. “What do you mean?”
To her surprise, a flush colored Miriam’s cheeks. “Nothing.” She reached for the glass again.
Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s not nothing. What do you mean about my reputation?”
“I thought you knew. I thought you agreed that it was the only thing to do.”
Though Miriam was forming complete sentences, they made no sense to Elizabeth. “Start at the beginning,” she said firmly.
Clearly uncomfortable, Miriam shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know how it got started, but there was a lot of gossip after Jason spent a week in your infirmary.”
“He had diphtheria.”
“You and I know that, but the gossipmongers claimed it was just an excuse, that all kinds of illicit things were going on.”
“That’s absurd! No one would believe that.” But as memories of the Chadwick party and Oscar’s advances resurfaced, Elizabeth realized that at least one person had believed the vile rumors.
“Women were saying they didn’t want a doctor with low morals.” Miriam’s green eyes darkened with regret as she continued the story.
So that was why appointments had been canceled soon after the party. At the time, Elizabeth had been puzzled, but she’d thought it might have been pure coincidence that half a dozen women had broken their appointments. Now she knew the truth.
Miriam fiddled with her bow again, perhaps to avoid having to meet Elizabeth’s gaze. “Richard told Jason the only way to stop the gossip was to have everyone believe you were in love. If they were gossiping about your courtship, they’d forget about the time Jason spent in your infirmary. Folks will forgive almost anything in the name of love.”
Elizabeth stared at her patient, wishing the conversation had never begun, yet knowing that she would have learned the truth at some point. “So it was all a game.” No wonder Jason had never asked permission to court her. No wonder he had not tried to kiss her a second time. He wasn’t courting her. He was simply protecting her. “A game.” Elizabeth repeated the word, hating the very idea.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Miriam agreed. “I’d say it was awfully nice of Jason to help you. But don’t worry. He knows how important your practice is. No harm was done.”
“No, none,” Elizabeth agreed. At least none that she would ever admit. It was her own fault that she felt so empty inside. Though her heart ached as if she’d been betrayed, she knew that wasn’t the case. Jason had done nothing wrong. He’d never misled her. It was only her imagination that had transformed simple friendship and kindness into something more, something that had tempted her into wishing her life could be different.
She had asked God for a sign, and now she had it. There was no question of what her future would be. She would be a doctor. Nothing more, nothing less.
And yet, though Elizabeth told herself that it wasn’t Jason’s fault that she felt as if she had just lost something infinitely precious, anger bubbled up inside her, propelling her back to her office in record time. She heard her feet clacking as her heels hit the sidewalk, and her breathing was ragged by the time she opened Jason’s office door. Anger had turned to fury, and while most of it was directed at herself, part of her blamed Jason.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked and started to reach for his coat.
She shook her head, refusing to leave the hallway to enter his office. That was the place where they’d shared cakes and cookies and conversation. If she proceeded, memories of the happy times they’d known might overwhelm her. She couldn’t let that happen.
“There’s no need to continue the pretense.” Elizabeth kept her voice as even as she could, but there was no ignoring the anger that bubbled just below the surface. “Tell me, Jason. When were you going to admit the truth?”
He stared at her as if she were spouting nonsense. “What are you talking about?”
“The charade, the game, the ruse.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to her, his motion releasing the scent of soap and starch. Elizabeth wondered whether she would ever be able to smell that particular combination of scents without being reminded of Jason. He looked at her, his expression earnest as he said, “You’ll have to be more specific. I don’t know what you mean.”
For a second, Elizabeth considered the possibility that Jason was telling the truth, that Miriam had been mistaken. But that couldn’t be. There was no reason for Richard and Miriam to concoct a story of a sham courtship. Furthermore, the evidence all pointed to the truth of Miriam’s tale. Elizabeth drew herself up to her full height and stared at Jason, willing him to back down. “Did you or did you not agree to pretend to court me in an attempt to salvage my reputation?”
The blood drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale. “Yes, but . . .”
Elizabeth spun around to grab the door handle. “That’s all I wanted to know.” She swiveled her head, giving him a brief glance. “I suppose I should thank you for your kindness. Thank you, Mr. Nordling. Your services are no longer required.”
22
Elizabeth tried not to shudder as she looked at her patient. She had wanted something to take her mind off Jason, but not this. Never this. When she had learned of Jason’s deception, she had been hurt. Now she recognized her feelings for what they were—pure selfishness. She should have been grateful for Jason’s friendship and concern, especially since they both knew they had no future together. Instead, Elizabeth had reacted with anger, lashing out at Jason, when he’d done nothing to deserve it. If she’d needed further proof of how wrong she’d been, it was in this room. Elizabeth’s feelings weren’t important. What was important were her patients. She was a doctor, and though she’d done her best, she had failed. If only . . .
But there were no second chances for Sheila.
Elizabeth washed her hands in the basin of warm water that someone—perhaps Katie—had placed on the bureau. They’d used bucket after bucket of water, yard after yard of cloth, trying to prevent the inevitable. Now all that remained was the final cleansing.
Elizabeth bit back a sob. If she gave in to it, she’d soon be wailing, and that would accomplish nothing. She needed to devote every bit of skill she possessed to her remaining patient. She wouldn’t think about the one she’d lost. Not now.
“How is she?” Phoebe stood in the doorway, her royal blue gown with its pale gray fur trim looking incongruous in the room that had seen so much suffering over the past hour. This was a room of red and white, the red of blood, the white of skin now drained of its life-giving fluid.
“Sheila’s dead.” Oh, how Elizabeth hated pronouncing those words. Though she’d seen people die when she was training, this was the first time she had lost one of her patients, and it hurt more than she had believed possible. “By the time you called me, there was nothing I could do for her.” She’d found Sheila lying in a pool of blood, her heart barely beating. When she had realized Sheila would be unable to deliver her baby, Elizabeth had performed her first emergency Caesarian section, and though her heart ached, she had smiled when she’d seen that Sheila had been right. She had been carrying a daughter.
Elizabeth nodded toward the woman who stood next to the bed, a warm cloth and a tiny form in her arms. After she’d brought Elizabeth to the bordello, Katie had volunteered to assist Elizabeth, saying she’d helped her mother deliver her last three children. Now Katie held the infant whose birth had cost Sheila her life.
“Louella is so small, I’m not certain she’ll survive,” Elizabeth told Phoebe. Though her limbs were perfectly formed, Louella hadn’t taken a breath when she was pulled from the womb. Even the traditional swat on the buttocks had provoked no respon
se. In desperation, Elizabeth had dipped the infant into a bucket of cold water, feeling an enormous rush of relief when the baby had howled her annoyance. Since then, though her breaths were shallow, they continued, and the ominous blue tinge had left her fingers and toes.
“Louella?” Phoebe raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“That’s the name Sheila chose. She was certain she would have a daughter, and she was right.” But Sheila had never imagined that she would not survive to raise her child.
“I washed her the way you said, Doctor.” Katie held the infant out for inspection. When Elizabeth nodded, Katie swaddled Louella in a clean cloth.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth turned back to Phoebe. “The baby needs constant care if she’s going to live. I’m going to take her to my infirmary.” And, God willing, Louella would survive.
“What’ll you do after that?” To Elizabeth’s surprise, there was a hint of concern in Phoebe’s voice. She might pretend to have no tender emotions, but the sight of Sheila’s baby had softened her expression.
“I don’t know.”
“She can’t come back here.” Though Phoebe’s voice was stern, she gave the baby a long look, almost as if she were apologizing. “There’s no one here who can care for her.”
“I know.” Elizabeth nodded at Phoebe. The bordello was no place for a motherless child to be raised. “I’ll worry about that once Louella’s out of danger. Meanwhile, I’ve plenty to do.” It wasn’t simply the oath she had taken when she’d become a physician. Elizabeth also felt an obligation to Sheila. The woman had given her life for her baby. Elizabeth would do what she could to preserve that child’s life.
When Phoebe had descended the stairs, Katie turned to Elizabeth. “I wanted to call you sooner, but Sheila said not to bother you. She figured it was too early for the baby to be coming. By her reckoning, it would be at least three more weeks.”
