When the bell over the door rang, she turned, expecting to find a neighbor arriving. Instead, Gray’s lady friend swept in on a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume.
Snapping blue eyes in a pale, heart-shaped face framed by a cloud of sooty black hair scanned April imperiously.
Whoever she is, April decided, she’s absolutely gorgeous. And rich. Extremely rich, if those stones in her earrings are real. The dress she was wearing must have cost a fortune, and the ruby brooch pinned to her bodice was most certainly genuine.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re here.”
April lifted an eyebrow questioningly.
Closing the door, the woman crossed the room to run a gloved finger over the mahogany table serving as a receptionist desk—the only piece of good furniture in the room. “I expect this to be dusted properly every day and oiled once a month. The carpet is to be taken out and beaten at least once a week. And that vase. You do realize what it is?”
“I believe I do,” April said hesitantly, aware the woman had her confused with the cleaning lady.
“It’s of the Ming dynasty. It must be handled very carefully. It’s museum quality, you know. I’m sure even you understand that. Is the doctor in?”
“I believe he’s with a patient,” she said, not bothering to correct the woman.
“Well, remember what I’ve told you about caring for the wood.” The outer door opened again. “Oh, excellent!”
Two men came in, one carrying framed pictures, the other two potted plants.
“Put them down by…” Laying her fingertip on her cheek, the woman frowned. “Oh dear, it is a bit crowded, isn’t it?”
The door to the examining room opened, and Gray emerged ahead of a young boy and his mother.
“Don’t be putting anything else up your nose, young man,” he admonished, ruffling the lad’s hair affectionately.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Freeda Brown said. “Come on, Robert, you’ll not be missing school because of this.” She ushered her young son out of the office in a flurry.
“Francesca,” Gray acknowledged, closing the door behind the pair.
“Good morning, darling.”
When he glanced at April, his expression tightened. “Is your grandfather feeling worse this morning?”
Ignoring Francesca, who was suddenly busy directing the men on where and how to hang the new pictures and where to position the plants, April raised her voice to be heard above the fray. “He seems more like himself today, but I—” She glanced at the other woman, who was dragging a chair across the floor. “I’m concerned about him. You didn’t say what you thought…” She gave up trying to talk above the noise of the men hammering nails into the walls.
Gray regarded her quizzically, waiting for her to continue.
Suddenly feeling awkward and out of place, April wished she’d waited to speak with him. Apparently this wasn’t the best time to garner his concentration.
“I—I noticed yesterday that you didn’t actually say what you thought about Grandfather’s condition.”
Gray suddenly shouted, “Francesca. Can’t that wait?”
The hammering temporarily ceased. Her eyes wide, the beauty blinked back at him. “Sorry, darling. Go right on with whatever you’re doing. You won’t bother us.”
Turning back to April, Gray indicated for her to continue. “You were saying about your grandfather?”
“Just…is there a reason why you didn’t elaborate on his condition?” She found herself extremely conscious of him this morning. He had this special way of focusing on her as if she were the only person in the room. No wonder single women found any excuse to visit him. Why, if she didn’t have Henry, she might be tempted…. But she did have Henry, and Gray Fuller was a doctor, the last man she would be interested in.
“As I indicated yesterday, your grandfather needs to take it easier. Rest. Eat more vegetables and fruit. Take a long walk every day.” Gray leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. She detected a faint whiff of soap and water—French soap, no doubt. “And have him stay away from that elixir you’re selling.”
April felt a flash of anger. “Because of you, that won’t be a problem. Grandpa has forbidden me to sell the compound.”
“Good.”
When she stiffened with resentment, he continued. “Joe McFarland’s diagnosis, in my opinion, was correct. Your grandfather isn’t a young man. He needs to slow down.”
“I’ve told him that, but he won’t listen.”
The workmen were making so much noise again it was practically impossible to carry on a normal conversation.
“Do the best you can,” Gray said, smiling at her with candor, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.
She was stunned by her reaction. Her heart thumped like that of a foolish schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. Why, she was no different than the other besotted women in town.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re most welcome, Miss Truitt.”
He smiled again, as if he knew the effect his smile had on her.
“Gray, darling, come tell me what you think about putting this plant here—”
Turning on her heel, April strode quickly out of the office and closed the door firmly behind her. The giggle that had been threatening burst into full-blown laughter. You might be a fancy Dallas lady, but you have no idea what it takes to be accepted in Dignity, April thought. And Gray Fuller’s an even bigger fool if he believes the people of this town think fancy paintings and plants will make him a good doctor.
April giggled again, and Mrs. Handleman gawked at her as she walked past the bank.
Remembering her manners, April forced a straight face. “Morning, Mrs. Handleman.”
The banker’s wife nodded, looking as if she thought April had lost her mind.
Swallowing another giggle, April set off for the pharmacy, anxious to tell Beulah about Dr. Fuller’s lady friend, who seemed bent on making him the laughingstock of the town.
Riley was playing checkers with Jimmy on the side porch when April arrived home. Realizing she hadn’t spoken with Lydia Pinkham in a couple of days, and wanting information on Will and Henry and their efforts in Austin, she decided to visit her that afternoon. The woman wasn’t in the first flush of youth, so would likely be resting. But April would make the visit brief.
Satisfied Riley would be fine for a few hours, she told Datha she’d be back by supper.
“He wouldn’t eat his fruit at lunch,” Datha complained. “Says it gives him a stomachache.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Yes, April girl. That would sure help.”
As she passed Dr. Fuller’s office for the second time that day, April noticed the Ming vase that had been of such concern to Francesca was now sitting on the sidewalk in front of the office.
Slowing her pace, she wondered how the piece had gotten out there. Had a young patient played a prank on the new doctor? She hoped not.
Not with a Ming vase.
The object was conspicuous by its shape and color. She noticed Jackson Myers swaggering down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, whistling a tuneless ditty. When he reached the doctor’s office he leaned over and spat.
Into the Ming vase.
She winced. He had used the vase as a spittoon. Francesca would have apoplexy.
As Jackson continued on down the walk, April hurried to rescue the vase. Gingerly picking up the expensive decoration, she carried it into the waiting room. The door to Dr. Fuller’s private office was open, and he was bent over a ledger. He glanced up as she entered, frowning when he saw the vase in her hands.
Leaning back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head, he regarded her with a half smile, his gaze sweeping her carelessly. It wasn’t hard to see she wasn’t making any points with him today.
“Forget something?”
“Fancy spittoon you have here, Doctor.”
“Spittoon?” His gaze moved to the vase. “That�
��s not a spittoon. That’s Francesca’s vase.”
Shaking her head, April tilted it and peered inside.
“No. Jackson Myers just walked by. It’s definitely a spittoon now.”
Gray paled as he straightened, his feet thudding against the wooden floor. “Francesca will have my head on a platter.”
“Ooh, is the doctor scared of the mean ol’ woman?”
Ignoring her taunt, he got up to circle the desk and take the vase.
“I’d suggest, Doctor, that you take better care of your gifts. Have you any idea what this ‘spittoon’ is worth? Your lady friend informed me it’s museum quality.”
“Her name is Francesca DuBois.”
“How fancy.”
He took the vase from her and carried it back into the waiting room, looking as if he didn’t know what to do with it.
Trailing behind him, April realized that she was enjoying this. Francesca had the poor, hapless man in a dither. “I understand you were having difficulty fitting it into the waiting room, but I don’t suggest leaving it outside. It makes a terrible spittoon, and I have very specific directions from Francesca on how it, and your other furniture, should be cared for.”
He turned, a scowl on his face. “I beg your pardon?”
“You should.” Her eyes hardened. “Francesca thought I was the cleaning woman.”
“I’m sorry. Francesca…” He appeared to be searching for the proper term.
“Is presumptuous?” April supplied.
“That, too,” he agreed, still standing in the middle of the room uncertainly.
“Use it as an umbrella stand,” she suggested. Then, curiosity overcoming manners, she blurted, “Exactly how presumptuous is she?”
Gray’s mouth curved in a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that distressingly attractive way.
“Sorry,” April murmured. “I guess that makes two of us, being presumptuous, I mean. I apologize. And I think I know a place it would fit.”
“There’s actually a spot left?” His smile was captivating, and she found herself smiling back. She hadn’t meant to, but he looked so appealing with his shirtsleeves rolled up.
“Over there.” She pointed to a tiny alcove beneath the wooden hat rack. Heat flooded her cheeks as she started for the door.
“Does Riley use refined sugar on his morning oatmeal?”
“Yes—” she turned back “—he does. Why?”
“Does he use jam and jelly on his biscuits?”
“Of course.”
“And he favors biscuits and gravy?”
“Yes.” Her pulse jumped. “Why? Is there something wrong with that?”
“Well, that sort of eating habit isn’t healthy for him.”
“But he’s eaten those things all his life.”
“I know, but your heart is the engine for the body. It’s what makes everything work. The heart needs proper nourishment to pump efficiently. Refined sugar, gravy, biscuits all clog the working parts of the body and slow it down, until one day it stops altogether.”
Moving back to the desk, she waited for him to go on. “Are you saying my grandpa is about to die?”
What would she do without him? She’d lost nearly everyone she loved. Riley was so important to her, and she loved him so much. Sagging against the desk, she let the frightening possibility sink in.
The doctor stepped toward her, his hand closing around her arm as if he was afraid she was going to faint. “Are you all right?”
“I-I’m fine. What about Grandpa—”
She forgot to breathe. The doctor was so close that her stomach started to flutter. She tried to attribute that to his warning about Riley, but deep down she couldn’t deny it was him. There was a softness in his warm eyes that melted her.
Gray stepped back, as if realizing she was about to pull away from him. “I’m saying that your grandfather needs to eat more vegetables, and honey instead of sugar. In fact, get him to take two teaspoons of honey with each meal, and walk a couple of miles a day. You’ll find he feels better, sleeps better and has fewer stomach complaints.”
April was skeptical. “What good is honey, other than it tastes good?”
Moving to a metal cabinet, he filed a document he’d picked up off the desk. “It’s part of getting back to nature. I’ve done quite a lot of study in that area.”
She tilted her head to one side, deciding that while he was an adversary, he was a well-educated one. Her admiration was grudging.
“Yet you charge Mrs. Pinkham with being a quack?”
He smiled. “Honey is pure, untouched. The body assimilates it easily, and uses it well. The ‘elixir’ that Mrs. Pinkham puts in those bottles is questionable.”
“You’re wrong about Mrs. Pinkham. I truly believe she is helping women, and I feel it is my calling from God to serve with her.”
He quirked a brow. “From God?”
“Yes, from God.” April felt a rush of blood to her cheeks, but lifted her chin. “God calls each of us to special service, and this is mine. Are you a Christian, Dr. Fuller?”
“As a matter of fact, I am, Miss Truitt. I believe God has called me to attend the ills of the citizens of Dignity, using the best medical knowledge available, not by using herbal compounds made up of who knows what.”
April straightened, crossing her arms as she faced him smugly. “You, good doctor, are jealous of Mrs. Pinkham’s results.”
He laughed. “You, dear woman—”
The outer door suddenly burst open, and they turned in unison.
“There you are, Doctor!”
Two wide-eyed young women, assisting a third between them who leaned an arm heavily on each of them, came into the office. April recognized the Gibson twins, Marilyn and Carolyn.
Manhunters.
Molly Nelson was the injured party.
“What’s the problem?” the doctor asked.
April could tell him the problem, but he’d know soon enough himself. The Gibson twins wanted husbands. They’d even sniffed around Henry, when it was plain he favored her. Marilyn and Carolyn each supported Molly with one hand, and held a freshly baked pie in the other.
Their intent was evident. It was hunting season.
“Why, we don’t know, Doctor.” Marilyn handed him a gooseberry pie. “We were walking by when Molly suddenly felt faint. We thought perhaps we should bring her in here to rest and…perhaps you could look after her?”
Gray glanced at April, and she couldn’t help grinning at his discomfort. “Why, Marilyn, the doctor was just saying how he was trying to cut down on sugar and lard. Good diet, you know, is very important to the digestion.”
“Let’s get your friend into the examining room,” Gray suggested, sending April a look of both censure and amusement.
April was still grinning as the women led Molly into the other room.
Pies, she thought. How transparent.
She spent the afternoon with Lydia Pinkham. Together they wrote advertising copy for the newspaper and assembled new flyers for Will and Henry to use in their sales efforts.
On the way back home she stopped by the pharmacy to tell Beulah about Marilyn and Carolyn’s outrageous behavior. Pies. She wondered who’d made them. Everyone in Dignity knew the twins couldn’t peel potatoes.
“A couple of teaspoons a day, now. You’ll be feeling like a new woman before you know it,” Beulah was explaining to a woman with four young children tugging at her skirts. “One in the morning, and one after supper.”
“Well, I guess it won’t hurt to try it. Thanks, Porky.” The woman held up the small brown bottle to inspect it. “Just two teaspoons a day, you say?”
“Just two.”
April held the door open as the woman shooed her rowdy brood out the door.
“Was that Mrs. Pinkham’s compound you gave her?” April asked as she closed the door.
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Give women a sample and tell them it’ll solve all their problems?”
“Yes, but you could be more enthusiastic about it.”
Beulah shook her head. “All that poor woman needs is rest. Four children in five years, and she hasn’t recovered from the last one, two years ago. How’s your grandpa today?”
“Dr. Fuller says he needs to change what he’s eating, and take a long walk every day. I don’t know how Grandpa is going to take to that. He loves his biscuits and gravy every morning, along with all the rest Datha insists on fixing. She cooks enough to feed a milling crew.”
“Speaking of Datha, people are saying that she and Jacel are seeing a lot of one another lately.”
“Let’s hope Flora Lee doesn’t hear anyone saying it. But Datha’s awfully crazy about that boy.”
“You think she’s too crazy? You know, do you think she knows how babies are made?”
“She’s sixteen—and the last of a whole line of children. I’m sure she knows. Why?”
“I was just wondering.” Beulah absently straightened a row of salves. “Jacel comes in once in a while. He’s been buying stoneseed root lately.”
Stoneseed root? April had heard the herbal remedy was used by Narragansett women to cause sterility. What use did Jacel have for it? Jacel knew and loved the Lord. He knew the marriage bed was sacred, and intimacies between a man and woman were reserved for marriage. Yet he was young and the young were impetuous, Grandpa said. And Datha had stars in her eyes for the handsome young man….
“That’s odd. Do you think I should say something to her?”
“No. It’s probably nothing…. It just seems to me that Datha’s awfully young to be so serious over a boy. Knowing how Flora Lee is so dead set against the relationship, I worry about her.”
“Jacel’s hardly a boy. He’s what? Seventeen now?”
Coming around the counter, Beulah wiped her hands on her apron. “Eighteen, actually. You know, most girls in this town are married before they’re seventeen. They don’t wait as long as we have—though it hasn’t been exactly our choice,” she finished with a grimace.
Bluebonnet Belle Page 9
