by Lori Wick
A Place Called Home
Lori Wick
"... and to my coachman, Dobbins, I leave 300 dollars, the roan mare from the stables, and my black riding crop..."
The words became distant and far away to the black- garbed young woman, who sat as though she were made of stone. She sat in the large study that had been her grandfather's. This room had been his haven. It had been in this very room, on her grandfather's lap, that he had told her her parents were dead. They had drowned in a boating accident when she was six years old.
She used to love visiting her grandfather in this room. It was big and masculine, as he had been. Of course everything about Joshua Bennett had been big-his laughter, his temper, his love for life. She let her eyes wander around the room, whose walls were lined with books. She had learned to read and write in this room. Large, comfortable chairs were scattered about, and in the middle of it all was her grandfather's massive desk. The desk, the bookshelves, everything was walnut. The dark wood would have made it gloomy but for the two huge windows that sat behind the desk and overlooked the street. Her eyes went to the windows. It had begun to rain.
It was fitting that it should rain on the day of her grandfather's funeral and will-reading, since he never liked the rain. But her thoughts were brought abruptly back to the present at the mention of her name.
"... she will receive the house and stables along with the rest of my holdings. In the event of her death, the inheritance will go to my partner, Vince Jeffers."
Again the words of the lawyer faded from her ears. "In the event of her death everything will go to Vince Jeffers." Something is terribly wrong! Grandpa would never have done this! She tried to slow her racing thoughts as she brought her eyes to the man sitting not ten feet from her. Vince was watching her with a look that made her stomach
6turn. His too-thin face held a self-satisfied smile, making his long nose and dark eyes appear evil. It came to her at that moment that this man might in fact want every dime of her grandfather's money.
She rose and went to her room on legs barely able to support her. Once in her room, she sank into a chair and sat looking out at the pouring rain. Again the lawyer's words returned to her: "In the event of her death." My death? Grandpa would never write such a thing, since he was hardly leaving a fortune.
Her mind went back to her grandfather's study and the man who smiled so cynically at her. Fear welled up within her as she thought of her own death. With her grandfather gone, who would care? She didn't care about the money; all she wanted was her grandfather back. The tears she had held in until now streamed unchecked down her face. She had never felt so alone.
7
Mark Cameron paced the spacious entryway of his large, two-story house and looked at his watch for the fifth time. He walked to the foot of the stairs and called up, "Sue, are you almost ready? We're going to be late."
"I'll be right down," came the soft reply.
Mark resumed his pacing until the soft rustle of skirts sounded on the stairs. He turned just as his wife, Susanne, reached the bottom. His eyes lit with appreciation and he moved to take her hands in his. "Is Emily all settled in for the night?"
She answered as he helped her into her sweater, "She's cuddled into Maggie's lap with her favorite book and a blanket."
"And how is this little one down here?" Mark's hand moved down to rest tenderly on his wife's swollen abdomen.
Susanne laughed softly and covered her husband's hand with her own. "If he continues to move like he did today, he's going to make the next two months feel like a year."
Mark's thoughts went back nearly three years in time to the night Susanne had Emily. Mark was 25 and Susanne 23. He was a doctor and she a nurse, and both were experienced and confident. But their medical knowledge was little help that night with Susanne's long and hard labor. After Emily was born Susanne assured Mark it had been worth it all, and, looking at his beautiful baby daughter, he had to agree. Nevertheless, tonight his doubts began to surface and the concern he felt was evident in his voice. "Sue, are you sure you're up to this? If you're too tired, Mac and Julia will understand."
Susanne opened her mouth to reply, but someone pounding on the door stopped the words in her throat. Mark
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swung the door open quickly to reveal one of the boys from town trying desperately to catch his breath. Mark listened patiently as the boy spoke. Each word came out with a gasp. "Doc Cameron... a boy... in the alley... by the livery ... stabbed... please hurry."
Mark turned to grab the black medical bag that was always kept in the entryway. He bent to give Susanne a quick kiss before moving out the door to follow the already- running boy. He heard his wife call "I'll pray!" as he broke into a run, hoping to cover the two blocks before it was too late.
Susanne closed the door and leaned against it. She took a moment to pray for Mark, the boy, and God's guidance this night. Removing her sweater, she walked up the stairs to tell Maggie the change in plans. Emily was nearly asleep. Once back in the entryway, she walked through a door that sat off to the right. Lighting lamps along her way, she entered her husband's office. She had no guarantee he would be bringing a patient tonight, but either way he would see the welcoming lights. She made sure the office door leading to the street was unlocked. Settling down to wait, she realized she must send word to Julia about supper.
Less than 20 minutes had passed when Mark came through the door with a limp bundle in his arms. He spoke quietly as he laid his burden down. "The cut isn't deep but he's lost quite a lot of blood. We need to get it stitched as quickly as possible."
Susanne picked up a cold, pale hand as her eyes moved over the boy. He was filthy from the top of his floppy hat to the boots on his feet (three sizes too large). His large pants and shirt were covered with a huge jacket, and the left shoulder of the shirt and jacket were stained with blood.
"I'll get his clothes, Mark, while you wash up."
As Mark entered the small equipment room, Maggie came through the entryway door. The two women moved silently and in one accord. First came the jacket. Moving
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the boy as little as possible, they cut the shirt away. Maggie pressed a cloth to the cut as it began to bleed again. The boy seemed to be wearing some kind of tight undershirt that Susanne cut off. As it fell away the women stared at each other across the body. Susanne moved first and reached for the hat. It was pulled on tight and took a bit of gentle tugging to break free. Again the women exchanged a long glance, before Susanne turned on her heel and walked into the equipment room.
Mark had dried his hands and was reaching for the tray holding all he needed to stitch the cut. Susanne stopped in front of him. "Is the boy ready for me?" He was met with silence.
Alarmed that something had happened, he moved to step around her, but Susanne caught his hand. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as Susanne replied, "Mark, your patient is not a boy-it's a young woman."
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Mark Cameron's brothers Luke and Silas rode toward town. The warmth of the day, even at 7:00 a.m., told them August was going to be as hot as July. The men were headed to Mark and Susanne's. Luke was then to catch the 8:15 train for Chicago.
Things were still pretty quiet as they rode into town. They tied their horses in front of a large, white, two-story house that had served the town's medical needs for nearly 40 years. Joseph Cameron Sr. had converted the parlor into an office, and with great pride had turned it over to his grandson Mark upon completion of his medical training.
As the men walked to the front door, Luke's eyes went to his brother's work clothes. After Luke caught the train, Silas would be headed back out to the horse ranch they
worked together, north of town. Luke was dressed in a suit that usually left the closet only for church. He envied Silas his comfort.
Susanne answered the door and each man hugged her. "We missed you last night at Julia's. Where's Mark?" Silas asked.
"He's upstairs with the patient who came in last night."
The fact that a patient was upstairs spoke of a serious injury. Each man knew better than to question Susanne. She was the soul of discretion, especially concerning Mark's practice.
She turned to the brother-in-law whose face mirrored her husband's. "Luke, will you take some things to Paul? It's not very much if you can fit them in your case."
"Sure, I'll work them in."
"Can you stay for breakfast?" Sue asked.
"I thought you would never ask!" Silas spoke as he moved toward the rear of the house. "Where's my niece?"
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Susanne answered as she and Luke followed him. "She's supposed to be in the kitchen setting the table."
Emily was hard at work when the three entered the big, sunny kitchen. Her mother's voice broke through her concentration.
"Emily, your uncles are here." A big smile broke across the little girl's face, and with an excited squeal she moved around the table toward her uncles. Upon spying the way her Uncle Luke was dressed, she stopped in her tracks.
"Is this Sunday?"
"No," Silas answered.
Emily continued to frown in her Uncle Luke's direction until he came over and picked her up.
"How come you're dressed like Daddy today?" She, as well as the rest of the townsfolk, counted on the way the Cameron twins were dressed to tell them apart.
"I'm going on the train today."
"Will you be gone for my birthday?"
"I'm afraid so, but I'll bring you something from my trip."
Emily was more than pleased with his answer and was hugging him when her father joined them in the kitchen. Soon all five of them were seated at the table. Mark prayed, asking God's blessing upon the food, Luke's trip, and the patient upstairs.
After the prayer, Luke asked how serious the patient was.
"We're waiting out a fever right now."
"Is it someone we know?" Silas asked, concern in his voice.
"No, she's not from around here-at least I don't think she is." Mark's eyes went to his daughter and the conversation moved discreetly to Luke's trip. He would be gone about three weeks and planned to see Paul, the youngest of the Camerons, at the seminary he attended in Chicago. He was also to look into buying two mares and a stallion for the ranch.
The time moved quickly. Mark went back to work and his brothers were again on their horses and headed for the
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train station. Things were bustling at 8:00 and the platform was crowded as Luke bought his ticket.
The brothers talked as they waited for the train.
"You did get over to say goodbye to Grandma Em, didn't you?" Luke laughed at the question. "Let's put it this way, Silas: If I hadn't, I'd better not come back!"
Both men laughed and the train blew it's whistle. They said their goodbyes and Luke moved along with the crowd to board. He settled into a seat and then waved out to Silas as the train pulled away. With the train gathering speed, he reached into his bag for the book he was reading and settled back for his trip to Illinois.
13
Christine Bennett fought against the blackness that threatened to engulf her once again. She was warm now but not burning up, as she had been before. Lying flat on her back on something soft, she knew without opening her eyes that it was daylight. She intended to lie there and try to organize her thoughts, but the sound of someone moving around the room was too much for her.
Peeking out between lids that rebelled at the idea, Christine focused slowly. She was more than a little surprised to find herself in a lovely bedroom that was not her own. Her eyes slowly took in the brightly flowered wallpaper and furniture, all painted white. The bed she was in was big enough for two of her, and sat off to the left side of the room. The far wall had a large window covered with white lace curtains, allowing the sun to stream in. Her eyes also took in a dresser, mirror, and rocking chair before coming to rest upon a woman bent over a plant in the corner.
The woman was dressed in a dark blue skirt and crisp white blouse. Her medium-brown hair was pulled back in a very businesslike bun. She hummed softly to herself as she watered.
Christine knew a moment of panic at not recognizing where she was; the thought made her squirm. The sound of her bedcovers moving brought an abrupt halt to the humming, and the woman advanced upon her with a beaming smile.
"Well, well, my dear. I had begun to wonder if you were ever going to wake up. My name is Margaret Pearson- 'Maggie' to my friends. Your fever broke during the night after nearly three days. I can tell you the Doc was glad of that! You've had us quite worried. It would have been a terrible thing to lose you, not even knowing your name. So tell me, my dear, what is your name?"
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Christine looked into the face of this kind, smiling woman and realized she had never heard anyone speak quite so fast. Or maybe it was because she wasn't feeling herself.
Christine tried to speak, but the words came out in a croaked whisper. Maggie, immediately seeing the problem, drew Christine up with one arm and brought a glass of water to her lips.
Christine lay back and took a deep breath before attempting to speak again.
"My name is Chris-Christine Bennett. Please tell me whose house I'm in."
"Oh! Christine! What a lovely name. Makes me think of ChristmasI" Maggie said with her beaming smile. "As to whose house this is, it's the doctor's house-Doc Cameron, his wife, and his little girl. This room is kept special for patients who need to stay over. I'm Doc Cameron's nurse. Well! Listen to me chatter! The Doc will want to know you're awake and I'm sure you must be starved." Maggie spoke over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "The Doc is a good man, the best doctor around these parts, but let me tell you, my dear, how fortunate you are. A few inches lower with that knife and the doctor would not have been able to help you."
Maggie then moved out the door and did not see the little color left in Christine's face drain away at the thought of her own death.
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Christine lay looking at the ceiling as she listened to Maggie's footsteps recede down the hall. For a moment she had forgotten the alley, the man with a knife, and all the events leading up to her arrival in the small town of Baxter. She tried to shift around in the bed, but the movement brought a sharp pain to her shoulder. She decided to lie quietly, and as she settled in again she let her mind drift back to Spooner and the morning after her grandfather's funeral.
"Christie, Christie dear, are you awake?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hall, come on in." The bedroom door opened and Mrs. Hall, Joshua Bennett's housekeeper of some 20 years, came over to the bed carrying a small serving tray. / Christine pushed herself backward in her bed until she was propped up against the headboard. After setting the tray on the bedside table, Mrs. Hall sat on the edge of the bed and took Christine's hand in her own.
"How did you sleep, Christie?"
The gentle words brought tears that Christine thought she had cried out completely the night before. In an instant the women were both crying and in each other's arms. They clung tightly to each other in an attempt to soothe the hurt they were feeling and to fill the void hanging over them with the knowledge that Joshua Bennett was gone.
They separated after some minutes, each making an attempt to compose herself.
Mrs. Hall's smile was a bit shaky as she gestured to the tray. "I brought you some coffee and muffins."
Christine was not hungry, but as she looked at Mrs. Hall,
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this precious woman who cared for her and the closest person she had had to a mother since she was six years old, she knew she couldn't hurt her.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hall." Christine tried a smile that was even more wobbly t
han Mrs. Hall's.
Mrs. Hall squeezed Christine's hand and shut the door as she left the room and Christine to her own thoughts.
Christine reached for the coffee and tried not to let her thoughts wander. She noticed that the rain had ended. It looked like a good day for a ride on Raven, her mare. She would need to sneak down the stairs and go out by way of the kitchen so her grandfather wouldn't catch her in the boy's pants she wore when she rode astride. Christine felt tears sting her eyes as she realized where her thoughts were headed. Her grandfather was gone. She decided against riding.
Knowing that if she stayed in bed she would continue to cry, Christine jumped up and began to dress. Her grandfather would not have wanted her depressed. She pushed her sad thoughts aside and was dressed and brushing her hair when another knock sounded at the door.
Opening the door revealed Mrs. Hall again. "Christie, Carl Maxwell was here and he-"
"Oh, Mrs. Hall, please tell him I'll be right down!" Christine interrupted as she turned back to the mirror to finish her hair.
Mrs. Hall followed her into the room. "Christie, he didn't stay." Christine stopped brushing and turned to look at Mrs, Hall. "I'm sorry, dear, but he simply asked me to give you this letter and said he had to be going."
Christine looked down at Mrs. Hall's extended hand. She had not even noticed the letter. Christine took the letter even as she wondered why Carl had not stayed for coffee, as was his usual practice. She dismissed the idea when she realized he was being polite in her time of grief. The truth of the matter was that she would have liked to talk with him.
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So caught up was she in her own thoughts that she did not hear Mrs. Hall pick up the tray and leave as quietly as she had before.
Christine settled herself in a large, comfortable chair by the window and stared at the envelope. Christine's thoughts had wandered the night before over her grandfather's will and any involvement that Vince Jeffers might have had. Realizing what she was suspecting Vince of, she pushed all such ideas aside and opened the letter. She was not prepared for what she read.
Christie-
I'm sorry I could not stay to see you, but I had to let you know you are in danger. You must get away. Take the train to Fall Creek and stay there until I send for you. Tell no one where you are going and destroy this letter. When you get to Fall Creek go to the ticket office and find Mr. Franklin. Tell him I sent you. He will take care of you, see you settled, and keep in touch with me. I repeat, Christie, tell no one -just get out of the house tonight, and remember: You are in danger. Again, I'm sorry.
