Picking up a pillow, she whacked him soundly over the head.
Grunting, he fell back to the mattress, succumbing to a laudanum-induced sleep.
A fourth day passed, and April decided the doctor was not a good patient. He complained incessantly, found fault with every morsel of food she brought him, and when confronted with the news that she knew he’d been giving Lydia’s compound to his patients, he turned downright surly.
Still, she owed him much.
He’d taught her to shoot, had supported her, stood beside her, solved the problem of Grace and what had she done for him? Called him a quack, criticized him and got him shot.
She’d just settled him for a nap Thursday afternoon when a knock came at the door. Blowing a strand of hair off her forehead, she ran lightly across the room to answer it so Gray wouldn’t be disturbed. Patients came at all hours of the night and day, depriving him of much-needed rest. She’d made up her mind she was going to get firm with the incessant disturbances. They had to stop if Gray was to recover his strength.
“Yes?”
Francesca stood on the small landing, her mouth open in surprise. “Oh…you’re the…mortician’s daughter. I’ve seen you downstairs.” A frown creased her perfectly made-up face. “You are here…for what reason?”
“Shh, Gray’s sleeping.” April stepped onto the landing and closed the door behind her. This wasn’t the ideal person to take a firm stance with, but she had to start somewhere.
“Gray’s what?”
“Sleeping.”
Francesca’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’d better explain.”
Lowering her voice, April did so. “Gray’s been injured—not seriously,” she added at the stricken look on Francesca’s face. “But nonetheless, enough that he hasn’t been able to work. I’ve been seeing to his needs.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Seeing to his needs? In what way? Oh. You’re cleaning for him. He is very bad at housekeeping. I have asked him to—”
“I’m not his cleaning lady,” April said, recalling the woman’s autocratic attitude the first time they’d met.
“Then why are you here?”
“Gray is ill, and I’m caring for him.”
It seemed to April that the woman didn’t care one whit for Gray, or anyone else, for that matter. Why else would she insist upon staying in Dallas while he was here? She was constantly showing up unannounced, demanding his attention when he had an office full of sick patients!
What kind of love was that?
Francesca’s eyes widened. “How hurt is he? Oh, I must see him—”
“No, you don’t want to. He’s…caught something. It might be contagious.”
Shame on you, April Truitt! Lying was getting to be second nature to her!
“Contagious?” Francesca drew back.
April was ashamed of herself, but her nurturing side was stronger at the moment than her conscience. Besides, Francesca deserved it.
“All kinds of ugly blotches. Really ugly.”
Cocking her head, Miss DuBois glared at her. “Then why are you here?”
“I’ve already had…it.”
“It? What, may I ask, is it?”
Disturbed by the commotion outside the door, Gray stirred, opening his eyes. When he recognized Francesca’s voice, he groaned.
When the women’s talking grew louder, he struggled to the side of his bed, sitting up. Clasping the bedpost, he pulled himself to his feet, then slowly inched across the room on rubbery legs.
By the time he’d reached the door, the loud voices had turned to shouts that half the town was surely able to hear.
Yanking the door open, he looked out. April and Francesca were face-to-face on the small landing.
“You will move away from the door!” Francesca told April in a tone colder than a Minnesota January.
She stubbornly held her ground. “The doctor is resting. I won’t have him disturbed.”
Francesca took a threatening step toward her. “Why, how dare you—”
“That’s enough, both of you.”
April turned at the sound of his voice, her bravado slipping. “Gray—you shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“What is all the racket out here?”
“She said you were contagious!” Francesca accused, shooting poisonous looks at April. “She won’t let me in to see you.”
“I didn’t say never,” April protested mildly.
“You might as well have!” Francesca was worked up now, and getting louder. She stared at Gray. “You don’t have any hideous blotches on your face!”
He frowned. “What blotches? What are you talking about?”
“She said you had something terrible!”
“I did not—not exactly.”
“Francesca, lower your voice.” Motioning for the two warring women to come inside, Gray limped back into the room.
“I will not enter that room with her in it.”
The ultimatum in Francesca’s voice was hard to miss. Gray was being asked—no, ordered—to choose. The mortician’s granddaughter or her.
His choice.
And he’d better make it snappy, her tone implied.
Throwing up his arms in exasperation, he limped back to bed. “Do whatever you want, Francesca.”
She stamped her foot. “Gray Fuller!” she yelled. “You come back here! How dare you walk away from me like that!”
Pushing April aside, she stormed into the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
The curtains covering the door gyrated crazily.
Leaning against the railing, April suddenly felt weak-kneed. Why had she done that? Francesca was entitled to see the doctor.
What right did April have to stand between a man and the woman he was courting? She had made a vow to behave better, but the audacity of that woman made her forget her promise.
From inside she could hear Francesca giving Gray a piece of her mind in a strident voice. An occasional rumble came from Gray, but for the most part the French woman was doing all the talking—or rather shouting.
“And you’d better be back on your feet for the party in three weeks!”
Slamming the door of Gray’s apartment behind her, Francesca shot April a withering look and marched down the staircase.
Leaning over the railing, April called, “You should be ashamed of yourself! You don’t care about his illness!”
What kind of love was that?
She barely heard Francesca’s cold and impertinent response.
Chapter Nineteen
Datha was slowly regaining strength. Flora Lee insisted upon helping April with housework in her absence. She offered to cook, too, insisting that it kept her young—and besides, the Ogdens were family, and what was family for if they couldn’t do something nice for one another?
Flora Lee was slowly coming to terms with Jacel and Datha’s relationship, although she openly and frequently expressed her anger at Datha for the road she had chosen…one that had almost taken her life.
While Datha had been recovering at the doctor’s office, Jacel’s attentiveness had shown Flora Lee a new side of the young man. His love for Datha, and his constant devotion to her, gradually persuaded Flora Lee to be less judgmental and more tolerant, although she still called him uppity from time to time.
April looked forward to spring. The season held new meaning for her. She’d survived the duel, and she had close friends and family. She had much to be thankful for.
As for Henry, she hoped she’d never see the man again.
“Honest. You’ve never seen anything like it,” she told Beulah. “Gray was powerful—so heroic in the way he handled the ruse.”
“But he was shot.”
“Only because Grace—as he predicted—brought her own weapon loaded with live ammunition.”
“Wasn’t Grace furious about the blank ammunition?”
“She didn’t know it was blank—or if she did she was so embarrassed by her cowardly act she didn’t say anythi
ng. She left soon after, with Henry in tow. Of course, Gray couldn’t confront her about the loaded gun without revealing the ruse, so nothing was said by either side.”
Beulah turned from the sink, her face suffused with heat. The Odgens and Ludwigs were sharing Sunday dinner today. “I am so angry with you!”
“I know….” April tried to catch her hand in an attempt to mollify her. “I wanted to tell you, but I knew you would only worry, and the more people who knew about the duel the bigger the risk that Grandpa would find out—”
“You think I would have told him!”
“No, of course not. But it’s over now, and other than Gray’s wound, it turned out all right. Henry’s out of my life, and God saved me from marrying a man who would only bring heartache to a marriage.”
Sinking down in a kitchen chair, Beulah fiddled with a napkin. April knew that she had hurt her best friend’s feelings, but she’d had no choice. Other than a brief mention in the Burgess Courier—with no names mentioned—the duel incident had remained quiet.
God indeed had been merciful to April, and she had learned a valuable lesson: the next man she fell in love with would indeed be a man of honor, a man steeped in his faith.
“I know I’m forgetting something,” she muttered, trying to divert Beulah’s attention. She wiped her hands on her apron, trying to organize her thoughts.
“I can’t imagine what it would be,” her friend said. “There’s enough food here to feed Europe.”
Beulah had arrived early to help. With Datha still recovering and Flora Lee busy in the kitchen, April was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
In the smoking room, Eldon Ludwig and Riley visited by the fire. There was a huge stuffed turkey in the oven, sweet potatoes boiling on the stove to be mashed with brown sugar and butter, jars of pickles and relish ready to be put into dishes. Pies were cooling on the kitchen table. April already had the dining room table set, and it wasn’t ten o’clock yet.
“Sit down and relax a minute,” Beulah urged, taking her by the shoulders and lowering her into a chair. “You’ve worn yourself to a frazzle.”
“I can’t sit, Beulah! Eight people will be eating at my table in two hours!”
“There’s nothing left to be done,” her friend insisted. “Flora Lee’s run us out of the kitchen twice. Besides, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“Can’t it wait until later?”
“No, I’m bursting to tell you right now.”
“What’s so important that you have to tell me immediately?”
Beulah drew a deep breath. She leaned back, closing her eyes, grinning from ear to ear. “See what I’m doing?”
“Savoring the moment.”
She chuckled mysteriously.
Now April’s curiosity was piqued. Not only by Beulah’s strange behavior, but by the smile curving her generous mouth.
“Come on, what? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I’ve been seeing Raymond.”
April stared at her. “I know that.”
“But I mean, really seeing him.”
April absently rearranged a place setting, jumping when her friend swatted her hand.
“I mean, he’s coming by every week now.”
“I thought his work brought him to Dignity every two to three weeks?”
“It does, but he’s been altering his route so he can come through Dignity more often…to see me.”
A smile crept across April’s face. “To see you.”
“Yes. To see me.”
“And?”
“And Papa likes him, and he’s brought me little gifts, like this locket.” She held out the enameled heart on a delicate chain around her neck. “I think—oh, dash it all! I’m almost afraid to think. What…what do you think?”
“I think he sounds like a man who’s seriously infatuated with you, if not in love,” April said, laughing when the pink in her friend’s cheeks deepened.
“Do you think so?” Beulah whispered.
“I think,” April whispered back, “that we’d better start thinking about wedding dresses.”
“Oh!” Beulah wailed, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “I’m afraid to think of it, but I do like him. So much.” She giggled. “So very, very, very much. He…he says I’m perfect, just the way I am. He actually said that. I even…well, I asked him if he minded me being, well, fat, but he seemed surprised that I’d even ask. And it wasn’t an act, he was completely sincere. Do you think…do you honestly think he means it?”
April patted her hand. “I honestly think he means it.”
Beulah bit her lower lip. “I know I shouldn’t be so happy—I mean, nothing is official yet, and I don’t want to make you feel bad.”
“Why should it make me feel bad?”
“Well, because of Henry.”
“Henry who?”
After a momentary hesitation, Beulah laughed, and April joined her. “Indeed, Henry who?”
Gray arrived promptly at eleven-thirty. He brought a large pan of onion pudding and admitted that Frances Marlow and her daughter had brought it by his office the day before.
He looked so striking in his dark blue suit and tie, with his hair slicked back and slightly damp. And he smelled so good she wanted to get closer, as Beulah would say, to savor the moment.
She glanced at his wounded leg. “Is everything okay?”
“Excellent. I’m seeing a good doctor.” He grinned.
“I’m glad you could come.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” He still favored his left leg, but she could see that he was getting back to normal. Stuffing his gloves into a pocket, he handed her the pudding and his hat and muffler.
“Grandpa has the checkerboard set up—”
“Just waiting for somebody to beat,” Riley called from the parlor. “Come join us by the fire.”
Gray laughed. “He sounds in rare form today.”
Grinning, April drank in the sight of the doctor. She hadn’t seen him in over a week, and she missed him.
“You coming or not?” Riley called. “Eldon and I haven’t got all day.”
“Anxious to get beat?”
“First time for everything,” Riley taunted.
April left the men to their game and went to the kitchen to get on Flora Lee’s nerves, asking whether the turkey was going to be ready on time and when to mash the potatoes.
Around one o’clock they sat down to eat. Holding hands, they bowed their heads and listened as Riley said the blessing.
Jacel and Datha sat across from April—with Flora Lee. The woman was bad to carry a grudge, but like Grandpa had predicted, she’d come around eventually. After the blessing, Datha picked up the bowl of potatoes and started it around the table.
“I have some news, Jacel’s been accepted for the fall.”
The old woman looked surprised. “He has?”
“Yes. And he’s already got a place to live in the city. He’ll go a couple of weeks early to find a job near the school to help pay for his books.”
“How’d all that get done?”
“Mr. Ogden wrote him a letter of recommendation, and so did Dr. Fuller and Mrs. Langston, his teacher. She’s even offered to tutor him.”
“Dr. Fuller found him some law books to read the last time he was in Dallas,” Beulah added.
The last time he was in Dallas seeing Francesca, April thought.
“Pestering me all the time, wanting to know about medicine.” Mr. Ludwig laughed. “Him and that Grimes boy.”
“Raymond?” April asked, glancing at Beulah. Seeing the flush rise in her friend’s cheeks, she grinned. “Does Raymond know a lot about medicines?”
“Nearly as much as any doctor.” Eldon Ludwig nodded. “Except for Dr. Fuller.”
“Thank you,” Gray declared. “You’ve been a great help to me, getting settled here and all.”
April brought them back to the subject. “Tell me what you know about Mr. Grimes.”
Beulah kicked her under the table, and she kicked back.
Mr. Ludwig paused with his fork suspended in midair. “What is there to tell? He’s twenty-eight, his parents are gone, only has an aunt he visits from time to time, has a good education, likes selling, doesn’t like the traveling. A good boy. Asks a lot of questions.”
“Oh? What kinds of questions?” Riley asked.
“He asks many questions about my Beulah. I tell him, ask her yourself.”
“Papa!”
April’s eyes danced as Beulah became even more dedicated to the food on her plate.
“He does seem the perfect mate for a woman,” April said, ignoring Beulah’s silent plea to let the subject drop. “No doubt he’ll be settling down soon.”
“He told me he would be coming through town every three weeks or so,” Gray said, “but I’ve noticed he’s making his rounds almost every week. I thought it was my stimulating conversation—” he winked at April “—but I see I was wrong.”
Beulah’s face was red as a beet from all the teasing. “Really, people, can’t you find anything more interesting to discuss?”
“More interesting than Raymond?” April asked.
Everyone burst into laughter, and Beulah turned crimson.
“This is a special day,” Riley began. “A day like any other day, but one when we should pause and give thanks for the good things sent our way. I’d like for each of us to share one thing that we’re thankful for. I’ll start.” Lifting his glass, he studied the contents. “I’m thankful for my granddaughter. She brings me much joy. And for friends, old and new.”
He saluted Gray.
Gray lifted his glass in return. “I am thankful for new friends and for the acceptance I’ve found here in Dignity.”
“For a good year, and hopes for another good year,” Mr. Ludwig intoned, adding his salute.
“For my sweet Datha being returned to me,” Flora Lee said. “Thank You, God, and Dr. Fuller.”
“Part of the thanks goes to April,” Gray said. Turning to her, he met her gaze as he lifted his glass in another toast. “Thank you for showing me that modern medicine can sometimes learn something from old-time ways.”
Bluebonnet Belle Page 24
