Loving Bella

by Renee Ryan

  Oh, but she would be. She was sure of it, yet not for the obvious reasons. She sensed, down to the bottom of her slippers, that she would find a kindred spirit in Lizzie, the prostitute.

  And that, Bella thought miserably, told the true state of her wretched sinner’s soul.

  Stepping quickly to the ground, Shane studied the area surrounding his feet. Confident the last remaining rat had fled, he proceeded to Miss O’Toole’s side of the carriage.

  “Ready to start our day?” he asked in what he hoped was a pleasant enough voice, one that would soothe away the majority of her fears.

  At her wide-eyed stare, a thread of discomfort wiggled through his conscience. Perhaps he should have brought her to the front door after all. Perhaps his scheme to toss her immediately into the thick of things wasn’t as well-thought out as he’d told himself.

  Unfortunately, it was too late for second guesses. What was done was done. He’d simply have to do his best to protect her from this point forward.

  Inching toward the edge of her seat, she squeezed her eyes shut a moment then said, “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Shane stifled a smile at the muffled squeak in her voice, the one she was trying so hard to hide behind a brilliant smile.

  Oh, she was a brave one. He’d give her that.

  In spite of the fact that her eyes brimmed with mistrust and she glared at the ground around his feet, Shane knew Miss O’Toole would exit the buggy. Eventually.

  He wished she’d lift her head and look at him, though. She would only make herself miserable if she continued searching for rats—especially since there was a high possibility she’d find one. Or twelve.

  Well, rodents or not, they had a schedule to keep.

  Stretching out his hand, he waited patiently for her to gather her courage.

  Still glaring at his feet, she took a fortifying breath, boldly placed her palm into his and finally looked him directly in the eye.

  An unmistakable scratching noise filled the silence.

  Her face drained of color.

  He opened his mouth to make some inane comment about nothing to fear, he would protect her from the big bad rats, but words failed him. “I…” He broke off, wrapped his hand tighter around hers and gave an encouraging squeeze.

  She gripped him back with equal intensity.

  He should release her. No doubt about it. And yet, Shane clutched her fingers as though she was the most important thing ever to come across his path.

  Lord, what’s happening here?

  Struggling for air, he drew her slowly to the ground. Only after she found her balance did he release her hand.

  This was going to be one very long day.

  “After you,” he said.

  “Right.”

  To his amusement, she set out at a slow, careful pace, tiptoeing as though she could escape notice one baby step at a time. He allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips.

  The woman was anything but dull.

  And her rat phobia was oddly charming.

  Still grinning at Miss O’Toole’s wretched attempt to avoid detection, Shane lifted his medical bag and took off after her.

  Thankfully, no furry creature dared tread in their path thus far. Pulling alongside her, Shane gripped Miss O’Toole’s elbow and led her to the backdoor of the brothel.

  With each step he silently reviewed the prescribed plan in his mind. In spite of his previous doubts, he knew it was important to stay the course this morning. Everyone, especially their patients, depended on Miss O’Toole fulfilling her appointed duties without hesitation just as she’d done yesterday with Ethan.

  No matter what they came across today, Shane would not gloss over any portion of the work that lay ahead. If Miss O’Toole was to remain as his assistant for any length of time, she needed to understand exactly what a brothel looked like from behind the scenes. No false sheen. No glamour. Just the harsh reality of shame and early death.

  Standing on the back doorstep, Shane considered his assistant’s nervous profile before knocking. Regardless of her “woman of the world” platitudes, she was in for a shock this morning.

  But it was Shane who received the biggest surprise when the door swung open and a young woman stared at him from the other side of the threshold.

  Two thoughts came to mind. The girl couldn’t be more than fifteen, and he’d never seen her before. She was well-dressed, and unbelievably attractive with her brown hair, blue eyes and light brown skin. Even more startling, innocence radiated out of her.

  But there could be only one reason for her presence in the brothel at this time of day. She was one of Mattie’s newest girls, another casualty of the harsh western frontier.

  Which made no sense.

  Unlike most madams in the territory, Mattie Silks had her own unique set of standards. She had never hired anyone this young before.

  Unaware of his thoughts, the girl’s gaze flitted from him to Miss O’Toole and back to him again.

  “May I help you?” she asked in a voice just above a squeak, sounding much like Miss O’Toole had when she’d discovered the alley’s rodent problem.

  Shane stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Bartlett. Would you please inform Miss Silks I have arrived?”

  The girl’s gaze dropped to the medical bag in his hand. “Oh. Yes, of course.”

  The relief in her young voice made Shane smile. She was not one of Mattie’s girls. Yet.

  But how long would that hold true? Had Mattie relaxed her standards for this beautiful child?

  Watching the young woman pivot and then walk out of the room with guileless elegance, Shane shuddered at the inevitable tragedy her life would become if something wasn’t done soon.

  Yet, what could he do?

  He would alert Pastor Beau of her existence. Surely, the preacher would know what course of action to take next.

  Feeling a bit more hopeful, Shane dragged an unsteady hand through his hair and offered up a silent prayer. Lord, You are the Great Protector. I pray You keep that young girl from falling into the sin of this house.

  “You don’t think she’s—” Miss O’Toole let out an audible breath. “You know. A…a…”

  “No.”

  She turned to look at him.

  Their gazes locked.

  Held.

  Held.

  “You are sure of this?”

  “Completely.”

  Her brows drew into a delicate frown and she angled her head in confusion. “But how do you know?”

  “I know.”

  Her left eyebrow lifted a fraction closer to her hairline, giving her a slightly wounded look. “You can simply look at someone and know that sort of thing?”

  Realizing his answer was important to her, and not quite understanding how he knew or why, he nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off her stricken face. “Sometimes.”

  “Oh.” Her voice came out steady enough, but anguish was written all over her features.

  If the question of a young girl’s innocence could distress the woman this much, what would happen when she actually followed Shane upstairs and witnessed the ugly realities of life in a brothel?

  She thought playing the part of a doomed courtesan gave her an understanding of the world inside these walls. But there was no glamour to be found here.

  And suddenly, as sure as he knew his own name, Shane didn’t want to subject this fine, Christian woman to the dark world upstairs. Not yet.

  In fact, he never wanted to watch this bright, young opera singer lose her innocence simply because she agreed to assist him when no one else had the courage or the character.

  For some inexplicable reason, Shane desperately needed Miss O’Toole to keep her fantasies intact. He needed to believe there were people who still had such illusions. And most of all, he needed physical proof that there were people living in this world free of pain, death and complicated life choices.

  “Wait for me in the carriage,” he said in an unbending to
ne.

  Her face took on the stubborn edge Shane was beginning to recognize. And dread.

  “No.”

  “Miss O’Toole—”

  “I will not leave your side before I’ve had a chance to prove myself. I will not.”

  Stunned at the relief her words brought him, Shane lifted a hand to her, dropped it just as quickly. This was not about him. “It is for your own good. You shouldn’t see—”

  “Don’t do this. Please. Not now.” She placed a gentle, yet firm grip on his arm. “I promise you, I will be quite fine.”

  And perhaps she would.

  But would Shane?

  Chapter Seven

  Much to her shock and against all effort to the contrary, tears invaded Bella’s eyes. She would not buckle under Dr. Shane’s misguided attempt to protect her. She would not.

  Refusing to look at him until she had her emotions under control, Bella called upon the familiar breathing technique she used to calm her nerves. In. Out. In. Out.

  In…

  Out…

  But no matter how slowly she breathed, she could not seem to get her thoughts under control. What if this man could see into her heart and know what was there? Hadn’t he said he knew the young girl was innocent? Could he also know Bella was not, at least not in her heart?

  Still a bit unsteady, she continued breathing deeply. She was being ridiculous. It didn’t matter what Dr. Shane thought of her. God had given her this chance to atone for her sin with William.

  The urge to wrap her fingers around the locket came strong, but Bella balled her hand into a tight fist and cast a quick glance at Dr. Shane.

  He appeared lost in his own thoughts, looking toward the ceiling with grave interest.

  Perhaps he was impatient to begin his day.

  Or maybe there was something else on his mind.

  Before Bella could contemplate further, the beautiful child returned.

  “I am to tell you to proceed directly to Miss Lizzie’s room. My…” She let her words trail off, cringing with obvious embarrassment at some unplanned slip of the tongue. “That is, Miss Silks said she will join you in a moment.”

  The doctor nodded. “Thank you, Miss…”

  “Annabeth.”

  His lips cracked into a smile. Warm. Accessible. The man certainly had his share of charm.

  “Thank you, Miss Annabeth,” he said. “You may tell Mattie that I’ve set off for Lizzie’s room with my new assistant in tow.”

  Smiling at his choice of words, Bella followed her employer through a pair of swinging doors. She glanced over her shoulder in time to witness Annabeth retreating in the opposite direction.

  Bella paused. “I wonder why she isn’t at Charity House with other young girls her age.”

  “That’s a question I plan to ask Mattie as soon as the opportunity arises,” he ground out.

  Understanding his frustration, Bella remained silent as they made their way through the lower level of the brothel.

  A sickening dread crept through her stomach but she refused to flinch, not at the hideous decor or the stale odor of cigar smoke mingled with cheap perfume.

  In truth, the interior wasn’t as bad as she’d expected.

  It was worse. Much worse.

  Bella had never seen such an ill-staged setting, not even in her early days of playing smaller, seedier venues. The gaudy red-velvet furniture stood in stark contrast to the gold filigree wallpaper, lamps and tables. A trio of fake-looking Oriental rugs covered the wood flooring. Vulgar paintings hung on the walls, their bold colors and shocking themes made Bella think she was walking inside a cliché.

  Really, Miss Silks, must you be so obvious?

  More disturbed than she cared to admit, Bella inched closer to the doctor, nearly nipping his heels with her toes.

  A winding staircase took them upstairs to a long hallway with five doors along both walls. The carpet on this floor was much shabbier, a floral print long since faded.

  There was a sense of neglect up here, as though the madam had spent her time, effort and money decorating the lower level—for what it was worth.

  But how had Miss Silks decorated the individual rooms?

  Bella had her answer as soon as the doctor opened the third door on their right.

  The smell hit her first. Musty, sour, rank. As she closed the door behind them, she decided she actually missed the rancid back alleyway. Rats and all.

  Squinting into the darkened room, she waited for her vision to clear before stepping forward. The ragged curtains and threadbare furnishings brought one word to mind. Forgotten.

  Dr. Shane set his bag on a chair near the bed and began unbuttoning his coat.

  Bella did the same.

  “Good morning, Lizzie,” he said in a low voice, placing his coat across the foot of the bed.

  Setting her coat next to Dr. Shane’s, Bella followed his gaze to the shriveled, pale form lying in the large bed in the center of the room.

  While the doctor rummaged in his bag, Bella studied the poor woman. It was impossible to determine her age. Her long, black hair hung in dirty tangles and her face was pinched into a grimace of pain.

  Much as the downstairs looked like a poorly constructed theater set, Lizzie looked like an actress bent on playing herself yet failing to bring genuine enthusiasm to the role.

  A wave of sympathy crested. Bella couldn’t take her eyes off the pitiful sight of the worn-out woman.

  Unaware of her morbid fascination, Dr. Shane wrapped a stethoscope around his neck and pivoted back to his patient. With practiced movements, he took Lizzie’s limp hand in his and pressed two fingers against her wrist. After a minute, he released her and touched her brow.

  Riveted, Bella stared at the doctor’s fingers as they made a rhythmic sweep across Lizzie’s forehead. The elegant gesture reminded Bella of an artist’s expert stroke across a canvas.

  And yet, it was the compassion in his manner that struck the strongest chord within her. Bella stood in awe. What depth of character he had, to look past the sin and straight into this poor woman’s tortured heart.

  This man was a true model of Christian integrity.

  “How are you feeling today?” he asked his patient.

  “Not so good,” she croaked.

  He patted her hand. “We’ll try to make it better.”

  His tone was so gentle, so patient, Bella nearly wept. She desperately wanted someone—anyone—him—to show her that same careful consideration.

  If only she could leave her memories of William behind. Perhaps then…

  Then, what?

  What did she want from Dr. Shane?

  As though sensing her inspection, he turned his gaze to meet hers. But his eyes were filled with an inner sadness, not curiosity.

  At the sight of his unguarded despair, Bella’s thoughts of herself disappeared. She had a compelling urge to rush to him, to ease his pain somehow.

  Just as she moved forward, Lizzie began coughing. Bella switched directions.

  Acting on pure instinct, she moved in behind Lizzie and lifted her head to a less awkward angle. “There, now,” she soothed. “Take your time.”

  She continued to speak softly, practically chattering, until she sensed the doctor watching her again.

  Compelled by some silent nudge inside her, she lifted her gaze to his and found that his eyes were no longer sad. They were filled with a mixture of surprise and gratitude.

  Her breath backed up in her lungs.

  No theater review had ever brought such instant pleasure.

  Without a word, he handed her a clean handkerchief and cocked his head toward Lizzie. Understanding his silent command, Bella placed the cloth against the woman’s lips and wiped.

  “You poor dear,” she whispered, never taking her eyes off the doctor.

  He held her stare, silent a moment, and then stepped forward. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Nodding, Bella lowered Lizzie’s head to the pillow and moved out of his
way.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand as she passed by him. “Thank you.”

  Choked with emotion, she simply nodded.

  In that moment, Bella realized why he had brought her to the brothel first thing this morning. He hadn’t wanted to test her, rather he’d wanted to warn her that this job would be hard, both physically and emotionally, and it would require a level of courage Bella wasn’t sure she had.

  Just then, Jesus’s words to his disciples came to mind. I tell you the truth, whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for Me.

  This work was vastly important for the Kingdom. And Dr. Shane had asked her to share in it with him.

  Her very soul trembled at the implication.

  Singing opera might have brought a moment’s enjoyment to others, perhaps even a brief respite in a complicated world, but this—this caring for the sick—was infinitely more significant than memorizing an aria or hitting a difficult note.

  “Miss O’Toole, would you be so kind as to hand me the elixir in the clear bottle on your left?”

  Determined to prove herself invaluable, she fixed her mind on the task at hand. “Of course.”

  Just as she made her way around the bed, the door swung open with a bang.

  Bella spun around at the noise.

  “What is the meaning of this outrage?” said an angry female voice from the shadows.

  Dr. Shane blew out a frustrated breath and cast his gaze to the heavens. “Not now. Please, Lord, not now.”

  He quickly lowered his head and shot Bella a pained expression. “Brace yourself.”

  With another deep inhale, he swiveled toward the woman who now stood silhouetted in the dim lighting from the hallway.

  “Miss Silks,” he began with forced patience. “I am attending Lizzie at the moment. Please be so kind as to wait outside until I call for you.”

  In spite of the doctor’s request, the woman swept boldly into the room. Each step she took was calculated, carefully placed and used for absolute effect. Bella should know. She’d trained for years to avoid making such an obvious entrance.

  Dr. Shane muttered something under his breath, but Bella was too busy watching Mattie Silks to decipher his meaning.