Buttons and Bows (The Sewing Circle Book 3)

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Buttons and Bows (The Sewing Circle Book 3) Page 9

by Amelia C. Adams


  Justin was a bit bewildered. “People are talking about me?”

  Mrs. Brown chuckled. “Well, not in any sort of bad way. But news does travel fast, especially in my sewing circle. You know how us older women are—we get together and chat about nearly everything under the sun.”

  “I hope you’ve been discussing my grandmother’s birthday,” Kitty said. “We’re holding a nice little party for her on Thursday—you’ll come, won’t you?”

  “Of course! It wouldn’t be Bonnie’s birthday if we weren’t there to help celebrate it.” Mrs. Brown reached out and clasped Justin’s hand. Her skin felt thin, but he sensed this was no frail little old woman he was dealing with. “And as for you—I do hope you stay here with us a while longer. I could listen to you for hours on end.”

  “Wasn’t that already hours on end?” Justin asked with a smile.

  “Not quite.” She gave his hand a pat before stepping back. “I’ll go supervise the cleaning-up efforts now, but please feel free to come back any time and regale me with more.”

  “I will.” Justin watched her go, bemused. “What a delightful lady.”

  “We have quite the community of delightful older ladies in this part of town. They’re always up to something, and they’re always so sincere about it.” Kitty turned as Trudy walked up to them. “Well, Trudy? What did you think?”

  “I promised your friend here that I’d give him an honest assessment, and I’ll keep my promise,” Trudy replied. “I want you to know that I paid particularly close attention, knowing that I would be asked.”

  “And?” Justin was starting to feel a little bit of apprehension. He thought he’d done rather well, but he had no way of knowing exactly how he sounded to others.

  “I thought it was wonderful,” Trudy told him. “I’m not an expert, but I do take in concerts and other performances as often as I can, and I was deeply touched.”

  “Thank you. And I think I’ve just died a thousand deaths of nervousness waiting to hear you say that.”

  “Really?” Trudy looked at him curiously. “Why?”

  “Because just a short time ago, I wasn’t sure I would ever sing again. This place has brought me miracle after miracle—I couldn’t be more grateful that I came.”

  Kitty laughed. “I’m so used to hearing people complain about the dust and the wind here that it’s strange to hear someone expressing gratitude for it.”

  “That’s because they aren’t opening their eyes to how blessed they really are.” As Justin spoke, he realized that Kitty was one of those miracles. How could he tell her that without scaring her away? Not that she’d given him any indication of being ready to run, but would any girl in her right mind accept a proposal after half a week of knowing someone?

  Trudy excused herself to go help Mrs. Brown, and now the only other person left in the room was Geordie, who was leaning up against the wall with a grim look on his face.

  “Well, brother dear?” Kitty raised an eyebrow. “Why are you over there glowering?”

  Geordie pulled in a deep breath, then exhaled. “I understand it,” he said at last. “I don’t like it, but I understand it.” Then he too left the room.

  “What was that all about?” Justin asked, perplexed.

  “Oh, Geordie’s just referring back to a conversation we had earlier today,” Kitty said, her voice light. “He’s fine—he just doesn’t like being proven wrong.”

  “I don’t know of anyone who does like it.” Justin glanced around, making sure they were alone, and then he reached out and took her hand. “Tonight was magical, Kitty—there’s no other word for it. We read each other’s thoughts—we communicated soul to soul. How was such a thing possible?”

  “We both love music, and we’re both incredibly good at it,” she replied, giving him a teasing smirk.

  “Yes, we’re both talented, and I suppose we have all sorts of reasons to be smug about it, but I’m serious.” He looked into her eyes, noticing the little flecks of gray in the sea of blue. “There’s more here than just a singer and a pianist. There’s something far more.”

  She met his gaze unflinchingly. “I think you’re right, and we have so much to explore. For now, though, I think you need a drink of water and to stop talking. You’re getting a little raspy.”

  That wasn’t quite how he’d imagined she would receive his words, but he nodded. His throat was a little sore, and he appreciated her concern. She was one of the few who would hear the change in his voice and recognize that he needed to take care of himself.

  He went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, and then bid Kitty goodnight. He needed to return to the hotel and take his herbal concoction, wrap his throat in flannel, and get some sleep. It didn’t matter that he would much prefer to stay there with Kitty—he needed to listen to what his body was telling him.

  His throat might be telling him that he needed a rest, but all the way back to the hotel, his heart was telling him that he needed Kitty.

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite all the excitement of the party, Justin fell asleep rather quickly, but he woke up before dawn with a horrible soreness in his throat. He drank the glass of water he’d left next to his bed and it helped somewhat, but by the time he heard people moving around in the rest of the hotel, he was in quite a lot of pain.

  He dressed and went downstairs, whispering to the girl behind the front desk that he’d like to have a note sent over to Dr. Wayment. He hoped the doctor would come to the hotel to attend him there—he’d go to the office if need be, but his head was groggy, and it would be nice not to have to step out into the sunshine. But it was Sunday—he didn’t know what arrangements would be made.

  The girl promised him the note would be delivered immediately, and Justin thanked her. He imagined it would take a few hours for the doctor to respond, and he’d likely do that with a return note, but no—he came within half an hour and rapped sharply on Justin’s hotel room door.

  “So, you’ve gone and done it,” he said gruffly, motioning for Justin to take a seat on the wooden chair that came with the room. Sunlight streamed in through the window, making it the perfect spot for the examination, and Justin obligingly opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

  Dr. Wayment scowled. “What happened?”

  “I sang at a party last night,” Justin whispered.

  “You sang at a party? Well, that shouldn’t have irritated you this badly. How much did you sing?”

  “Five rather long songs,” Justin admitted sheepishly.

  Dr. Wayment coughed. “Five? Five songs all in one evening? Gracious, young fellow, are you trying to undo all the work we’ve been doing here?”

  “No, sir. I was just caught up in the spirit of the moment . . .”

  Dr. Wayment looked at him sternly. “I don’t care what caught you up—it had better un-catch you, and right quick. It’s going to take a few days for that irritation to go down, and then you’ll be lucky if you aren’t starting over from scratch with your exercises.”

  Justin’s heart plummeted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I honestly wasn’t thinking.”

  “That may have been your reason, but it doesn’t erase the consequences. Now, I mentioned that I’m getting a new shipment of supplies in tomorrow. I’ll make sure you receive everything you need, and you must promise me that you’ll obey me with absolute strictness. Furthermore, Mrs. Perry is downstairs waiting for you in the lobby, and you need to face her as well.”

  “Mrs. Perry is here?” This was getting worse and worse.

  “She is indeed. She and her husband were walking to church when I drove past, and I thought she should be told about your condition. Now, I don’t generally share my patient’s sorrows publicly, but considering that she’s been a partner of sorts in your rehabilitation, I thought she should know.”

  “Yes, you did right,” Justin replied. A few moments of heady exhilaration, and now he would have to own up to the consequences to the people he admired most. Why hadn�
�t he been more cautious? Kitty had known when she sent him away the night before—she’d guessed that he’d possibly overextended himself. If only that realization had been made a little earlier, and if only he’d been the one to make it because only he could feel the strain on his vocal cords and know when he was doing too much.

  “Keep up with your powders, and only eat soups or puddings for a few days,” Dr. Wayment went on. “Keep whispering rather than speaking aloud, and drink plenty of water. Tomorrow when I bring you the new supplies, I’ll examine your throat again, and I’ll expect to see about a fifty-percent improvement over what’s in there now.”

  Justin nodded, then rose and grabbed his jacket so he’d be presentable to go downstairs and meet with Mrs. Perry.

  As he approached the parlor, he saw Mrs. Perry sitting next to the fireplace with a kind-looking man seated near her. They both stood when Justin entered the room.

  “Mr. Sorenson, this is my husband, Nathan Perry,” Mrs. Perry said, stepping back so the two men could shake hands. “Mr. Sorenson, I’m told you’ve injured yourself. Please tell me that’s not true.”

  “It’s true,” he said softly, his tone of voice almost mirroring hers. “I was asked to sing at the party last night, and I overdid it.”

  Mrs. Perry closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, Justin,” she said, using his Christian name for the first time. Her disappointment rang through clearly, and he could imagine his mother speaking to him the same way. “We’ve talked about this often—you must approach your recovery slowly. You must always warm up your voice before singing, you must choose songs that won’t strain your voice, and when we do work on songs that stretch your capabilities, we must ease into them. How many songs did you sing?”

  “Five,” Dr. Wayment said from the doorway. He entered the room and set his bag on the table by the sofa. “Five long songs, he told me.”

  “Five? I’ve a strong inclination to take you over my knee, but you’re taller than I am. Perhaps the doctor could help me.”

  “I’d be glad to help,” Dr. Wayment replied dryly.

  Justin held up both hands. “I’m so sorry—really I am. It’s just that I haven’t performed for a crowd in such a long time, and I got caught up in the praise. It was prideful of me, I know. And Kitty’s accompaniment was so perfect—”

  “Ah. Kitty,” Mrs. Perry said knowingly. “Everything makes sense now.”

  “What does, my dear?” Mr. Perry asked.

  “We have ourselves a case of infatuation that I believe will blossom into much more, given time, but Mr. Sorenson will need to act more wisely than he chose to last night or the magic will disappear,” Mrs. Perry said. “Miss Clark and Mr. Sorenson were obviously meant to play and sing together—that was clear to me from the first—and it seems they were a bit carried away by their own combined geniuses.”

  “That’s exactly it,” Justin replied. “It was so perfect, I was scarcely aware of reality.”

  Dr. Wayment shook his head, his mustache twitching. “I’m not unfamiliar with the wonder of new love—I was quite smitten with my wife and remain so even now. But when one is recovering, one must use some sense!”

  “So, what’s our course of treatment?” Mrs. Perry asked.

  “No singing at all or speaking loudly for three days,” Dr. Wayment replied. “Soft foods only—I’ll speak to Ruth in the kitchen before I go and arrange it. On Wednesday, he may begin some gentle warm-up exercises, but Mrs. Perry, if you sense he’s straining at all, you must put a stop to it and not resume until Friday.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  Dr. Wayment picked up his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Sorenson. Rest, water, and recovery—those are your tasks now. Understood?”

  Justin nodded, although not as resolutely as Mrs. Perry had done. He felt terrible for wasting everyone’s time and betraying the trust they’d placed in his healing process. He would be absolutely strict with his instructions from now on.

  Dr. Wayment left, and the Perrys walked toward the door also. “We have just enough time to catch the second half of the sermon,” Mrs. Perry said. “I’ll see you at nine o’clock on Wednesday morning—unless you don’t feel up to it. You must let me know if you don’t feel ready.”

  He nodded again, figuring it wasn’t necessary to speak.

  She paused and gave his shoulder a pat. “You’ll be all right, Justin,” she said kindly. “This was unfortunate, but these things do happen. And someday, you’ll be able to sing your heart out without any consequences at all.”

  Mr. Perry shook Justin’s hand, and then they left as well.

  Justin pulled in a deep breath, then climbed the stairs back to his room. What a sad ending to what had been the most marvelous night of his life. He smiled, thinking about the way Kitty had looked behind the piano. She was truly lovely in every sense of the word. He would never regret the time they’d spent together—but next time, he’d be wiser about how they did it.

  Kitty had dressed with extra care that morning, choosing a pale blue dress with white cuffs and a white hat. Her hands trembled as she pinned the hat into place—she couldn’t wait to see Justin at church and maybe even sit by him. Of course, that was liable to throw Geordie into another fit of sullenness, but she had no real control over what made her brother sulk—that was entirely up to him.

  When the Clarks arrived at church, Geordie tied up the buggy while Evangeline and Kitty took the little girls inside. Kitty was immediately on the lookout for Justin, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found, and oddly enough, she didn’t see the Perrys, either. They usually sat near the front, so their absence was quite conspicuous.

  After the close of the meeting, Kitty saw the Perrys outside on the lawn, and she lifted her hand in greeting. Mrs. Perry didn’t let her pass, though—instead, she gathered up her skirts and bustled over to speak with her.

  “Good morning, Kitty. I’m afraid I have some rather unfortunate news—Mr. Sorenson has strained his throat quite badly.”

  “What? Oh, no.” Kitty’s chest constricted. “This is from singing last night, isn’t it? Oh, I should have known—I should have said something sooner.”

  Mrs. Perry shook her head. “How could you have known? And he should have been the one to moderate his behavior, not you.”

  “I realize that, but still . . .” Kitty couldn’t believe it. This really was so dreadful. “I’ll go see him this afternoon. How bad is it, Mrs. Perry? It’s not permanent, is it?”

  “Oh, no, not at all. Dr. Wayment believes he’ll be able to start doing mild vocal exercises again by Wednesday.”

  “That’s good . . . but it sounds as though he’ll be starting over.”

  “He will be, but he’s wiser now.” Mrs. Perry met Kitty’s eyes. “You do have quite a lot of influence over him, but you mustn’t blame yourself. Not in the slightest.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Perry. I’ll try not to.”

  The Perrys bid her good morning and continued on their way, and Kitty turned and took Caroline from Geordie’s arms. As soon as the twins were down for their nap, she’d pay a call at the hotel. What a horrible, horrible turn of events.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Justin rose from the table after eating a lunch of soft eggs and pudding. The cook had done her best to prepare something palatable, but it was difficult to feel satisfied on invalid food when all around him, the diners were eating roast beef.

  As he left the dining room and entered the hall that would take him to the lobby of the hotel, he saw Kitty standing near the front counter, and he quickened his step.

  “Kitty,” he greeted her in a whisper. “What brings you here?”

  “You,” she replied. “You and this terrible situation.” She waved a hand at his throat. “Is there someplace where we can talk?”

  He held out his arm and ushered her into the parlor. She took a seat, but immediately stood up again and began to pace.

  “I just couldn’t believe it when Mrs. Perry told me what ha
d happened,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Justin. We never should have chosen out five pieces of music—I didn’t think we’d go through them all, but still. And I should have been more mindful, and . . .”

  Justin took both her hands in his and stilled her pacing. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “This was my fault entirely, and I’ve been scolded for it quite extensively. Now we’ll focus on mending what I broke, and all will be well.”

  “But . . . but this is terrible.” She pulled loose from his hold and sat down, staying in her seat that time. “You injuring your vocal cords again . . . It’s like me breaking a finger. What if you don’t recover this time?”

  Justin sat near her so she could hear him more easily. “The doctor and Mrs. Perry both think I’ll recover soon. Please don’t worry about me, Kitty.”

  “But I do.” She met his gaze with her anguished expression. “I don’t know why I care so very much, but I do.”

  “You don’t know why you care?”

  “No!” She shook her head. “A week ago, I’d decided I was perfectly fine on my own, but then you came to town and now I’m all sorts of confused. I’m this way and that way, far more muddled than usual, and I just don’t know what I want any more.”

  Justin couldn’t hold back any longer, even though it was likely the most prudent thing to do—but prudence didn’t always have a place in romance. “I know what I want, Kitty.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I want to marry you.”

  Her eyes grew huge. “You . . . you want to marry me?”

  He nodded.

  She sprang up again. “But . . . but you hardly know me. You know nothing about me. You don’t know how impetuous I am, how flighty, how silly . . . Just ask anyone in town. They’ll tell you.”

  Justin tried not to chuckle because he knew it would irritate his throat. “You’re not silly.”

  “Yes, I am! I admit it! Oh, Justin, you don’t want me. You want a serious girl, someone who knows the histories behind the arias you sing, someone who will organize your household and alphabetize all the recipe cards and line your children up according to height—”

 

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