Calico Ball

by Kelly, Carla

  “That’s helpful, but the northernmost county residents will travel more than two hundred miles. Journeys like that require time, and arrangements must be made. I want their invitations to go out in Monday’s mail.”

  Good thing Dr. Pattison made up half of the invitation committee—or he would’ve messed this up. “You’re right. You have the information?”

  “You know I do.”

  No, he hadn’t, but he shouldn’t be surprised. This woman took responsibilities seriously. He admired that trait.

  Within a quarter hour, they’d set a table where light was best. With fountain pens, envelopes, and the list between them, Henry addressed his first invitation.

  “What do you think? Acceptable, Doctor?”

  She’d completed two to his one, her script perfect and spacing ideal. Lovely penmanship for a lovely woman.

  “Yes. Do continue.”

  Quiet minutes slipped past, the scratch of their pens the only noise.

  “I’ve a question,” she said, “and I’d like an answer, if you’re willing.”

  He finished the address and placed a check mark beside the corresponding listing on her sheet. “If I can, I will.”

  “Joe and Naomi tell me that you’ve liked Naomi well from the moment you were introduced. Naomi is a medical doctor.”

  Guilt pinched, hard. So far, no question, but he knew, when the question came, he wouldn’t find it easy to answer.

  “You avoided me quite successfully for nearly a year after I arrived in Evanston. I’m relieved to discover,” playfulness graced her tone, “you’re reasonably nice.”

  He chuckled. “Glad to hear it. And I’m glad to discover you’re reasonably nice.”

  “Why avoid me?”

  He’d been horrid. “I’m sorry for my rudeness.”

  “Had I offended you? I ask, because you evidently didn’t like me. You liked Naomi, despite her education and choice to practice medicine, but . . .”

  “First, let me assure you that you’d done nothing to offend me.” How could he explain something he didn’t understand? “Mrs. Joe Chandler had been introduced to me exactly as such. A married woman—and a physician.”

  “So, it’s unwed women you have no liking for.” Sadness showed in every plane of her face.

  “I see now why you called me an enigma. I am quite difficult to understand.”

  “Quite.”

  Flashes of that first sighting, coupled with sudden and overwhelming attraction, struck him once again. He chose to tell the whole truth.

  “I’d noticed you, found you lovely and appealing. Then I overheard you talking to the sign painter, clarifying the spelling of your name.”

  “You discovered my profession.”

  “Yes. Please understand. It wasn’t you. I saw the world, and everyone in it, through the lenses I’d learned to wear.” How narrow-minded he’d been. “Among my dental college enrollees was one woman.”

  Isabella completed another name and address. “You didn’t care for her?”

  “Quite the opposite. She was bright, competent, and charming.” He didn’t want to remember the best of Lenora nor the worst. But memories protected him from repeating lessons learned.

  “You felt threatened?”

  “Oddly, no. I found her intellect stimulating. Much as I do our conversations and debates.” He joyfully anticipated time with Isabella. Infinitely more than with Lenora.

  Interesting, the discovery he could remember Lenora without pain. Though he’d believed he’d love her forever, his love for her had faded into the past.

  Isabella listened with her eyes, ears, and soul. “She returned your regard?”

  “Yes, I thought so.” He beheld this woman who’d become dangerously dear. “Love wasn’t enough. She wanted to be a dentist more than she wanted me.”

  He searched her face, desperate to glimpse understanding. He must try harder. This painful past had driven him to state that women do not belong in dentistry, and that misstep had provoked Fisher to publish embellishments.

  If anyone deserved an honest explanation, Isabella did.

  “When news of my father’s death came, I was inconsolable. I’d been born to parents who loved me and did their best. I was alone.” He glimpsed understanding in her eyes. “Every day spent in school, rather than the mines, distanced me from former friends.”

  She nodded, waiting.

  “In my destitution, I craved someone to call my own. I wanted marriage and family. At the cusp of graduation, I acted in haste and asked Lenora to marry me.”

  Her rejection had stolen his last spark of hope. As if the loss had been yesterday, the pain resurfaced, a tight fist about his throat.

  He’d already voiced the hardest part. Lenora hadn’t loved him enough.

  “I’m sorry.” Isabella whispered without censure. “Perhaps she believed marriage and career are mutually exclusive.”

  Weren’t they? What dentist-wife could embrace both loves? No woman could keep a comfortable home and treat patients.

  Home.

  The immense craving resurfaced. Husband and wife, father and mother. Precious bonds between people committed to one another. He had to believe he’d find that miracle. Somewhere, sometime.

  As he tended to do when he ached for that elusive dream, he fingered the watch chain given to him by Dr. Ullman. While a student, he’d been invited a handful of times to dine in the professor’s home. Not only was the household well-run and comfortable, but both Dr. and Mrs. Ullman showered their children with unabashed affection. Dr. Ullman attributed the success of his marriage, home, and children to his wife: the mother is the heart of the home.

  With each visit, Henry had become more and more certain that he’d glimpsed heaven.

  As Lenora Baily didn’t want what he did, he’d determined to find the right kind of girl, one who cherished the same priorities as he. But not until the right time, when his business was established and he had the financial security to support a wife and children.

  “Do you?” Isabella tipped her head to the side. Sunlight turned her tight brown curls to bronze.

  Did he what? Where had the conversation been? Oh, yes, that elusive sense of home. Of course he wanted that. With all of his heart. “Yes.”

  She might want those things also.

  She capped her pen, and set it beside the stacked envelopes. “I believe you’ve opened my eyes.”

  He waited, his heart pounding.

  Isabella turned in her chair, to face him. “Are you aware that Joe sent for Naomi, as a mail-order bride?”

  “Yes.” Joe had spoken of his happiness with Naomi and the circumstances that brought them together.

  “In contrast, consider Sophia and Chadwick. He’s an unusual man, one who sees no lines between women’s work and men’s.” She studied him. “I’m startled, and a bit ashamed, to realize I’d not recognized yet one more school of thought.”

  His heart pounded, harder. What school of thought?

  She examined him with care. “I believe I see your view.”

  “You do?”

  She seemed ready to reply, as if something wonderful were nearly said . . . but not.

  After all they’d shared, the secrets he’d told no one else, every hour in the wagon, discussing similarities and differences of medical opinion, setting up adjoining businesses . . . he’d taken her into his confidence. He’d trusted her with everything.

  For so long, he’d believed he wanted a traditional wife, but the past months had reopened his eyes to the joy found in a woman with a quick mind. After meeting and coming to care for Isabella Pattison, could he be happy with anyone else?

  Dare he open his heart to the possibilities?

  “Please. Call me Henry.”

  “Oh no. If you are now Henry, you must call me Isabella.”

  “Not Izzy? Not Belle?” He squinted at her. “Isa?”

  She laughed—sudden and intense joy. “My name, Henry, is Isabella.”

  “Mig
ht I call you Bella? Is that better than Belle?”

  “If you stoop so low,” teasing restored to her light tone, “I will address you as Hen. You’d like that.”

  He chuckled. “Understood. You were saying?”

  “Henry.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I believe, at last, I see.”

  They’d just left Almy behind, and had the entirety of the return drive before them. The early June sun felt weak and the air decidedly chilly.

  “You do realize, Isabella, you owe me a story or two.”

  She enjoyed, far too much, the musical quality of her name on Henry’s lips.

  In the week and a half since he’d asked her to use his given name, he’d shown respect and deference, consistently addressing her as Dr. Pattison or Doctor when in the company of patients.

  But when they were alone, he used her given name with relish.

  Most definitely not something a good man like Henry would do if he believed them to be business acquaintances and nothing more.

  “A story? What would you like to hear? A fairy tale?”

  “I told you everything about me. You know all my secrets.” His eyes sparkled with keen interest. “It’s time you do the same.”

  He’d maintained composure when speaking of heartbreak. Could she, as well?

  “I’ll begin.” He cleared his throat. “I decided to pursue dentistry . . .”

  She laughed at his silliness. “Do you want my story, or not?”

  “I do. I want to know everything about you.”

  Her heart thumped at his flirtation. Was he in earnest? “Then you mustn’t tease.”

  He traced a solemn X over his heart with one fingertip. A promise made.

  The wagon rolled onward, the team’s pace easy on the dry road.

  “My father is a physician in Los Angeles. I grew up watching him receive patients in his medical rooms in our home. Like him, I was drawn to healing. We talked of medicine, his greatest joys and greatest heartaches. He believed I’d make a superb doctor’s wife.”

  He listened, interest showing in a nod here and there.

  “I decided I wanted to be a dentist while still in school. I’d suffered from a toothache, and through the experience with a dentist near our home, discovered my passion.”

  “How did your parents react?”

  “With surprise. And objection. They’d seen my curiosity in Father’s work as acceptable, for every mother benefits from basic medical knowledge.” The expressions her parents had worn—disbelief mixed with a good portion of doubt—had haunted her since. “Father was always more indulgent than a father should be.”

  “Said who?”

  “Mother.”

  “Ah.”

  “Indulgent, he granted permission for me to attend dental college and paid every penny. He purchased my equipment, paid my room and board.”

  “Generous.”

  She nodded, reflecting on that difficult time. “He insisted I consider my decision with care. He warned that by choosing to study dentistry, I chose to relinquish marriage.”

  Henry’s expression conveyed understanding and compassion.

  “Father warned the best men wouldn’t be looking for wives among their classmates.” He’d been right. “He believed dentistry could never provide the same fulfillment as marriage and motherhood.”

  That conversation had been etched upon her memory in vibrant color. She’d sat on the patient’s side of his desk. Father had pushed his spectacles high on his forehead. She’d pleated her burgundy wool skirt with her fingers. Pleated and smoothed, pleated and smoothed.

  Because of the memories branded into that skirt, she’d never worn the favorite burgundy wool again. Longing and determination had fortified her then, preparing her to fight for what she wanted.

  “Was he right? Or have you found fulfillment in your career?” Henry’s questions resonated with kind support. And encouragement. Henry truly understood the joy she’d found in dentistry.

  “Indeed. I have.”

  “Your parents preferred you wed?”

  “Naturally. My whole childhood, every privilege prepared me for my life as someone’s wife and someone’s mother. Quality education. Cooking lessons. Musical training.”

  “Yet they deferred to your wishes.”

  “Yes.” If only she’d retained their affection.

  “Brothers? Sisters?”

  “One sister.” Perfect in every way. “Florence is two and one-half years younger. She and her banker husband, Mr. Dudley Ketton, have three sons and one daughter.”

  He needn’t know she hadn’t seen the children for several years. She’d returned home one Christmas to nurture family relationships. But she’d been unable to withstand their constant pity.

  Or mother’s tearful entreaties. Please, darling. Come home. It’s not too late for marriage. You’ll find a good man, an upstanding member of the community, once you leave dentistry behind.

  As if any other life path were a travesty.

  “How old are they?”

  “The children? Nine, seven, six, and three.” Rough estimates.

  “They must adore you.”

  “Truthfully? No.”

  Her confession hung between them.

  She’d come this far. Why not purge her heart? If anyone might understand, Henry would. He knew how much she needed to work in her chosen field.

  “Through school, and every year afterward, I spent the holidays with family. Mother wept and pleaded with me to withdraw from school, allow her to introduce suitable marriage candidates.” Pain still burned, hot and deep. “She believes my foolishness prevented me from marriage.”

  “I’m sorry.” He settled his hand on her back, like he might with a child in need of comfort. But his soothing didn’t feel patronizing. His touch felt . . . right. So very right, and beyond wonderful.

  “Florence and I grew apart. She loves her life and cannot understand why I discarded the privileges and blessings of our sex to invade a man’s world.”

  “Common belief. But commonality doesn’t make it right.” He rubbed one more circle upon her back, then eased away. “Your brother-in-law agrees?”

  “He dislikes my independence and believes my desire to earn wages is unnatural. He forbade me to influence his children.”

  “Narrow-minded fool.”

  Henry’s quick reply, condemning Dudley, evoked laughter. “That he is.”

  The wagon wheels turned, the river rushed, and Isabella tipped her face to the sunlight. She might not have family, but she had this beautiful, wild corner of Wyoming Territory, free of coal soot and crowded streets, where she wasn’t expected to dine every Sunday with displeased family members.

  “When you turn quiet, I think you’re keeping parts of the story to yourself.” He gave a gentle nudge. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking that I love Wyoming and Evanston, the wide, clear skies. And before that, remembering one last uncomfortable visit at home, after graduation. Around that dining room table, with every member of my family, I was the only one celebrating.

  “To everyone else, my graduation signaled an end to my self-indulgence. I’d lost too much time. I needed to set aside distractions and focus on regaining all I’d lost.” An ache throbbed behind her breastbone.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing would change if I remained in Los Angeles, so I packed my trunks and left. I lived for a time in San Francisco, then Salt Lake City.”

  “Sounds lonely.” If anyone understood, Henry did.

  “I found patients wherever I went, but never a place to belong.”

  She’d already told him about the difficulty in finding someone—anyone—who’d welcome her into their practice or share a building. Those had been discouraging days.

  “That all changed when I read a newspaper article in The Salt Lake Tribune about Wyoming Territory’s stance on women’s rights. I read of Evanston’s female medical doctor and female attorney and their well-attended
leap-year ball in ’88. I wrote to Naomi and Sophia, and before long, the three of us were far more than acquaintances.

  “Time passed, then Naomi and Sophia invited me to visit Evanston. Before I left Salt Lake City, they’d suggested I plan a long visit to discover if Evanston and Wyoming Territory could be the place for me.”

  “You’re smiling.”

  “Indeed. I found pleasure in my one-way train ticket. I brought everything I owned in the UP baggage car.”

  He shared in her happiness, and her heart filled.

  “Here, I’ve found a place to belong. I have the dearest of friends in Sophia and Naomi—women who, like me, have gone against the grain of society’s wishes and make real and lasting contributions to those around them.”

  He nodded, obviously in agreement.

  “Here, I can be myself. Here, those who should love me most don’t shame me with tears and lectures and chastisement. No one asks me to come to my senses and marry like I’m supposed to, before I break my mother’s heart.”

  Henry tucked the reins in one hand and grasped her hand with the other.

  Driving along in the sunshine of a glorious Monday morning, returning from another purposeful day in Almy beside the man she adored, her hand in his, almost made her believe Evanston had one more immense gift for her.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying Henry’s touch.

  Almost like courting.

  “Isabella.” One more squeeze. “You are a fine dentist. You’re skilled. Talented. Have you noticed the good you’ve done in Almy?”

  She met the certainty in his handsome brown eyes. “Yes.”

  “Good. Believe me when I tell you that your value is not diminished because you chose a different path than what someone else wants for your life.”

  She turned his statement over and over. Weighing it, considering.

  “It’s the truth. You are astonishing. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

  Such a simple thing, holding hands. Gloriously, wonderfully simple.

  Astonishing, he’d said.

  Talented.

  Valued.

  His words gave wings to her long-held determination to embrace her chosen path and ignore the naysayers.