He placed a finger on her lips. “That sounds perfectly terrible. Why would I want that?”
“Because that’s what wives and mothers are supposed to do! I’m likely to forget to make dinner because I’m too busy chasing butterflies.”
Justin almost forgot to breathe. “Did you say butterflies?”
“Yes, I did. Is something the matter?”
“No. It’s just that I love butterflies. May I chase them with you?”
She looked at him as though she couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. “But . . . who will make dinner?”
“We’ll have bread and jam.”
She shook her head. “That wouldn’t satisfy you for long.”
“So we’d get a cook. Please, Kitty. At least think about it. Wait to give me your answer until my voice is back and I can ask you properly.” He wished he could say something more persuasive, something more eloquent, but whispering was hard work.
“I . . .” She finally nodded. “All right. I’ll think about it. But honestly, Justin, I’m flawed. You don’t want me.”
He grinned. “Just wait until I get my voice back. Then we’ll talk about how flawed you are.”
“But . . .” She shook her head. “Get some rest, would you? I’ll see you later.”
She turned and walked away. He wanted to call out after her, realized he couldn’t, and swallowed instead. He should just let her go—he’d just startled her, and she’d need time to sort it all out. There would be plenty of time to work things out later.
He just hoped she’d want to discuss it instead of rejecting him outright.
When Kitty arrived home from the hotel, she didn’t go inside right away. Instead, she sat on the front porch swing, giving herself a moment to sort through her thoughts. There were so many of them.
Justin Sorenson wanted to marry her. That thought loomed over everything else, obviously the most important of all her important worries. But was it a worry, actually? Wasn’t it wonderful and unexpected and everything she’d ever dreamed of? Maybe … but maybe not. What if they’d both just been swept away by the moment and the music? What if these feelings of connection were nothing more than a singer and a pianist finding a way to work together? No, that wasn’t it—that couldn’t possibly be it. This was more, and it was exciting and terrifying and so many other things all at once.
She pressed her fingers to her temples. She hadn’t told her mother about Dr. Wayment’s visit yet, but she’d have to because it would be unkind to leave her unprepared. Dr. Wayment would need to do an examination, and things like that shouldn’t just be sprung on a person. But how would Evangeline react? Would she be grateful that Kitty had intervened, or would she be angry?
And Geordie . . . Kitty sighed. Yes, she was worried about Geordie, but he would have to take care of himself. That was his responsibility anyway.
And her father . . .
And the twins . . .
Almost as soon as she had the thought, she heard a crashing sound coming from inside, and she opened the door just in time to see both Caroline and Kirsten go streaking past, jam all over their faces, and Geordie chasing them with a cloth.
“They got away,” he gasped. “It’s harder to hang on to them when they’re jammy—it’s slippery.”
“In about five minutes, it will turn sticky, and you’ll be somewhat glued to them,” she told him with a smile. She set the coat rack in the hallway upright—obviously the crashing sound she’d heard—and went in search of her mother. It was time to get at least one uncomfortable thing done.
She found her mother in her bedroom, sitting at the window with a book, but not reading it.
“Geordie told me I should rest, but I keep hearing the most outrageous noises from downstairs, and I’m a little frightened of what I’ll find when I go down there,” she said when she saw Kitty standing in her doorway.
“Everything will be fine. He’s certainly getting his exercise, but it’s good for him.” Kitty crossed the floor and sat down on the edge of her mother’s bed. “May I talk to you for a minute?”
“Of course.” Evangeline put her book to the side. “What’s bothering you?”
Kitty wanted to reply that everything was bothering her and to launch into the whole long story, but she held back. She needed to focus on one thing at a time. “I’m worried about you, Mother. You’ve lost so much strength and energy since the twins came—your coloring is paler, you’re sleeping more, and you look fragile. Geordie even noticed when he came home, and you know Geordie doesn’t notice anything unless it’s pointed out a dozen times. You’re not well.”
Evangeline leaned forward and patted Kitty’s hand. “You’re a good girl to be concerned about me, but I promise you, I’m fine.”
“No, Mother, you’re not.” Kitty clasped her mother’s hand and held it so she couldn’t pull away. “You’re not, and I’ve done something that will probably upset you, but it’s too late to take it back now.”
“What? What did you do?”
“I sent a note to Dr. Wayment, and he’s coming tomorrow afternoon.”
Evangeline let out a breath. “But why? Kitty, why can’t we leave well enough alone? I don’t need a doctor. I just need some rest.”
“If it was only a matter of rest, why do you still look so exhausted after I’ve taken the girls for the night so you can sleep? You should feel at least some better, but you never do. Mother, please. Do this for me. Do this for me and Geordie and Caroline and Kirsten, and for Father, too.” Kitty paused. “He doesn’t even know, does he? He thinks you’re perfectly well.”
“That’s what he thinks because I am perfectly well.” Evangeline did pull away, and she stood up. “I’m not upset with you, Kitty, but I do feel that you acted out of turn. Things like this should be my decision, not yours.”
She left the room, leaving Kitty sitting there by the window. Had Kitty done right? She believed so, but how would she know for sure? She just prayed that Dr. Wayment would arrive at an answer so they’d know how to help their mother once again become the woman she’d been before.
Chapter Fourteen
Dr. Wayment’s examination seemed to take forever. Kitty and Geordie entertained the twins as best as they could, finally resorting to filling up the bathtub and letting them play in three inches of water. They had just dumped the water out and gotten the children dressed when Dr. Wayment came down the stairs and asked to speak with Kitty.
Geordie opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again when Kitty gave him a pointed look, and he led the girls outside to look for snails in the garden. No doubt they’d need baths again—real baths, and not just distractions—before bedtime.
“Miss Clark,” Dr. Wayment began as he sat down in the parlor, “your mother’s case is severe, but not in the way you’re thinking. Let me begin by assuring you that I believe she’ll be just fine very soon.”
“She will?” Relief washed over Kitty like a torrential rain. “Oh, thank goodness. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m going to send a letter to my good friend Dr. Frank Russell in New York City. He specializes in women’s complaints and I trust him completely—in fact, he oversaw the training of my wife when she became a nurse. I’m going to ask him to verify my hypothesis, and then we’ll know for sure.”
“And what hypothesis might that be?” Kitty appreciated the fact that Dr. Wayment didn’t want to offer false hope, but he should at least say something, shouldn’t he?
“I’ll speak openly with you about these women’s issues given that you are a woman yourself, Miss Clark. When your mother delivered the twins, she lost quite a lot of blood. That’s not uncommon, actually, but as I spoke with her just now, she indicated that she’s had additional struggles ever since. I’ve encountered this several times, Miss Clark, and I’ve done some studying that suggests there are certain foods that enrich the blood. I believe that if your mother were to concentrate on a diet of these foods, her blood would become richer, and she woul
d have more strength and energy.”
“From her blood?” Kitty asked.
“Yes. It goes along with the principle of feeding someone nourishing broth when they’ve been ill—the body needs to build back up the nutrients it has lost. In the case of someone with a bleeding disorder, they need to eat a specific way too.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Kitty replied.
“I’ve encountered it in the past, but it seems to be happening more frequently over the last few years. I’ve treated it successfully with a diet of meats and vegetables, particularly green-leaved vegetables.”
“Mother doesn’t eat much meat. She says it makes her feel primitive.”
Dr. Wayment chuckled. “Be that as it may, it’s exactly what she needs. Perhaps you could cut it into small pieces and make meat pies or other things that aren’t so . . . rustic in appearance.”
Kitty nodded. “I can certainly do that.”
“Excellent. And see if you can grow some spinach in your garden, or find a farmer who will supply you. She says it’s not something she enjoys eating, but again, we do what we must.”
Spinach? That seemed like such a simple request when compared to the level of Kitty’s worry. “How long before we know if it’s working?”
“Oh, you should see a difference in her energy within a week.”
“So soon?”
“When the body is given what it needs, it thrives.” Dr. Wayment paused. “Is your father aware of her condition?”
Kitty pressed her lips together before answering. “Mother didn’t want to alarm him. Should he be told?”
“If my diagnosis is correct, your mother will be fine within a very short time. However, if I’m wrong and she has something more aggressive and life-threatening, your father will want to be here.”
Kitty looked at the doctor, her stomach churning. “Life-threatening?”
He held up a hand. “I don’t believe that’s the case, Miss Clark. I believe it’s merely malnutrition of her blood. But there are some signs that it could be more serious, and we want to examine the different possibilities.”
“I understand.”
She walked Dr. Wayment to the door, thanked him, then closed the door and leaned against it. All she could think about was her father and getting word to him. She glanced at the clock—if she hurried, she could send a telegram before the office closed. She grabbed her hat and raced for the door, wishing she’d thought to ask Dr. Wayment for a ride. “Geordie, you’ve got the girls!” she shouted as she dashed past him and down the lane.
“Hey!” he shouted after her. “What am I supposed to do with them?”
“Use your imagination!” She’d likely regret saying that, but he could figure something out on his own.
The ladies of the sewing circle took their seats for their Tuesday meeting, looking at Jane expectantly. She usually did conduct their meetings, but she could see that Esther was bursting to say something, so she motioned for her friend to go ahead.
“I met Mr. Sorenson the other night, and he’s simply wonderful,” Esther said. “I can plainly see why you chose him for Kitty, Jane. The young people had a party at my house on Saturday night, and the way he sang—oh, it was angelic. And the way Kitty accompanied him—they truly do belong together.”
Jane nodded. “My granddaughter Trudy stopped by yesterday and told me that she was quite impressed too.”
“Well, now I’m quite jealous,” Bonnie replied. “Kitty’s my granddaughter, but I haven’t met this boy at all.”
“It really can’t be too much longer until you do,” Jane consoled her. “I imagine she’ll be quite excited to introduce him to everyone once things are settled between them.”
“You sound as though it’s an inevitability,” Bonnie said.
“I rather think it is. Trudy said the two of them were quite the item at the party—she’d taken his arm as they walked around, and the way they looked at each other while he sang . . . Trudy thinks it’s definite.”
“That’s just wonderful,” Thora chimed in. “Another successful match—who shall we work on next?”
Nola held up a hand. “We can’t dismiss this project so soon, ladies. I’ve heard from a reliable source that Mr. Sorenson has strained his voice and can’t sing anymore.”
The ladies gasped.
“That’s horrible,” Maude said. “Simply horrible.”
“If he can’t sing, what will that mean for him and Kitty? If music is bringing them together . . .” Bonnie’s eyes filled with tears. “What will we do?”
The other women murmured their agreement that this was truly the death knell for their romance.
“Ladies, please wait a moment,” Jane interrupted them. “We don’t know for sure just what poor Mr. Sorenson’s condition is, do we? And we need to have faith that it was more than music that brought them together, and that the lack of music wouldn’t drive them apart. We really shouldn’t conjecture this way—not with so little information.”
“But we’re good at conjecturing,” Thora said. “We do it all the time.”
“Yes, we do it all the time, but we should stop,” Jane told her. “I’m not willing to give up on Kitty and Mr. Sorenson until we have some facts laid out before us. I happen to think they are a perfect match even if he never sings another note, and I want to see this through to the end.”
The ladies nodded their agreement.
“At the very least, we should check on the poor boy,” Maude suggested.
“Yes, that’s a good idea. Esther and I have met him, so I believe Esther and I should be the ones to pay a call,” Jane said.
“I suppose I shouldn’t insist on coming along.” Bonnie sounded morose. “Until things are decided between them, it would seem rather odd for Kitty’s grandmother to be seeking him out.”
“Yes, you’re right, but it really shouldn’t be much longer until you have the chance,” Jane said. “Esther, let’s go after lunch, all right?”
Esther nodded, and then the topic shifted to the ladies’ current crafts. Nola was getting along much better with her quilt, but now Maude had a question about a dress she was basting together. Jane felt sorry for Bonnie. She really couldn’t blame her friend for being curious about Mr. Sorenson—she imagined she’d feel very much the same—but everything did have its time and its season, and Bonnie would meet the boy soon enough. She had no doubt.
Chapter Fifteen
“Miss Clark! Oh, Miss Clark!”
Kitty looked up from her perusal of yarn at the general store and saw Mrs. Head bustling toward her, waving a piece of paper. “Hello, Mrs. Head. Is that a telegram for me? Did my father respond?”
“Miss Clark, I don’t know quite what to say.” Mrs. Head seemed to be in a downright dither. “This telegram concerns your father, but it’s not actually from him. It’s from the hotel where we sent his telegram yesterday afternoon. They say your father is no longer a guest there—that he checked out two days ago.”
“What? But … that can’t be right.” Kitty’s father always told them his itinerary—he never moved to a new location without telling them where he would be. “Why would he leave and not tell us?”
“I don’t know, dear,” Mrs. Head replied. She was often the one who took those informative telegrams from Kitty’s father—she knew better than anyone how careful he was to stay in touch.
“Well, this is dreadful. What should I do now?”
“Maybe he moved on to the next place on his list,” Mrs. Head suggested. “You could try sending a telegram there and seeing if he responds.”
“That’s a good idea.” Kitty dug in her reticule and pulled out the itinerary her father had sent. “It looks like he’ll be in Denver next. Will you please take care of this, Mrs. Head? Here’s the address, and just send the same message you sent yesterday.”
“Of course, my dear. I’d be glad to help.” She gave Kitty a sympathetic look, took the note from Kitty, and bustled off again.
Kitty r
ested her hand on the edge of the nearest shelf and pulled in a deep breath. Her mother was quite ill, and she’d either get much better or she might die. Her father was . . . well, quite frankly, missing. Justin had proposed, but he’d lost his voice again, and she wasn’t sure which of those two facts was the most worrisome.
And she really needed to stop listing everything that was bothering her. It didn’t help.
She needed to do something fun and lively and bright. Justin had been told to rest, but he hadn’t been told where to rest—she had brought the buggy into town. She’d go pick him up and take him back home with her. She’d make a nice lunch for everyone, see how Justin interacted with the girls, and perhaps most importantly of all, see how her mother liked him. She’d met him, of course, when they’d had breakfast, but that hadn’t been a long enough meeting to form any real opinions about someone. And hopefully, just hopefully, the hotel in Denver would tell Kitty that her father had arrived and it was all a misunderstanding.
“And so you see, Mr. Sorenson, we feel quite invested in your welfare, and so we’ve brought you some jam.” Jane Henderson finished her little speech with a flourish and handed Justin a little basket covered with a gingham cloth.
When Mrs. Brody had come up to Justin’s room and told him he had visitors, he was hoping for Kitty, but he’d been pleasantly surprised to find Mrs. Henderson and Mrs. Brown waiting for him in the lobby. He didn’t know what it was about these women, but he found himself delighted by them, and he felt almost as if they were his real grandmothers.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Won’t you please sit down?”
They sat, and Mrs. Henderson looked at him compassionately. “We won’t ask you to say much because we know you really can’t, but how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” he whispered. “Just resting my voice.”
“Good, good. We need you well again, Mr. Sorenson—we can’t go long without your amazing talent.”
Buttons and Bows (The Sewing Circle Book 3) Page 10
