by Laura Landon
He was frozen in the moment, afraid to press for a kiss, afraid to back away. But a moment later she saved him from his agony. Ever so slowly she reached a hand to his cheek and laid it there.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, no sound escaping from her lips that hovered so dangerously close.
It was apology and invitation all wrapped in two small words. Joshua felt the freeing force of them through his entire chest. He lowered his head and touched her lips that had been so tenderly tentative before. But this time they welcomed him with stunning eagerness. Her lips drew his into the kind of kiss that opened his heart. She returned his kiss with as much desperation as he felt. It was enough to carry him to the brink of control. And she answered his kisses with the same depth and desire as he commanded.
Lydia’s arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers threaded through his hair. Joshua feared he wouldn’t be able to stifle the passion that threatened to overtake him.
“We need to stop,” he whispered as he broke their kiss.
“I know,” she answered on a sweet moan.
They stood poised, whether for another kiss or to turn away. But Joshua couldn’t bring himself to release her. He was too desperate to keep her in his arms.
Beyond the window he saw the sun, usually a welcome sight. But today it only signaled the melting snow to come, the opening of the snowbound paths so people would come now to intrude upon their privacy.
“I was afraid James wasn’t going to live,” she said with her cheek pressed to his chest.
“So was I,” he answered.
“Were you?” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “You didn’t seem as if you were.” There was a look of astonishment on her face. “You seemed so in control. So sure of yourself.”
Joshua smiled at her. “For your sake I had to appear as if I didn’t doubt my abilities.”
“You’re a gifted doctor, Joshua. Promise me you’ll never doubt yourself again.”
Joshua smiled down on her. “I’ll try,” he said. “But no matter how excellent the doctor, God may have other plans for the patient.”
Lydia smiled, then returned her cheek to his chest. “You’re right. I know you are.”
Joshua kissed the top of her head and held her for a while longer before breaking contact. “Will you be alright if I leave for a little while? I need to go home to clean up and change clothes. I also need to bring back more supplies.”
“Yes,” Lydia answered. “I’ll be fine. James is sleeping peacefully, and I have plenty to do here.”
“Good,” Joshua answered. “I shouldn’t be gone long. Only a few hours.”
Joshua kissed Lydia’s forehead, then left. He was in a hurry to leave so he could return all the sooner.
To know someone would be waiting for him when he returned was a wonderful feeling.
Six
Once Joshua left, Lydia spent most of her time in the kitchen baking bread she’d started earlier and baking an apple pie for her brother. Apple was his favorite and she guessed that when he woke he would be hungry.
She’d just taken the bread out of the oven when there was a rather timid knock on the door. Lydia’s first thought was that Jenny had returned to call on James. This time she was determined not to let her in.
Lydia dried her hands on a kitchen towel, then went to the front door and opened it.
The visitor wasn’t Jenny, but Doctor Weatherby’s wife, Ethel.
“Good day, Miss McDowell,” the elderly woman greeted. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” Lydia answered. “Please. Come in.”
Lydia took a step to the side and ushered Ethel Weatherby into the house. She was surprised to see much of the snow had been swept away from the stepping stones in the dooryard. Dear, dear Joshua!
“Would you care for a cup of tea? It won’t take me but a moment to brew some.”
“No. No. I can’t stay. I just stopped by for a moment.”
This was the first time Lydia had conversed with the doctor’s wife other than a casual greeting after church on a Sunday morning. She studied the expression on Ethel Weatherby’s face. She seemed a pleasant woman with a sweet smile and a bit of the faraway dreamer in her eyes. She reminded Lydia of her grandmother and Lydia felt an immediate kinship with the woman.
“I have come to make amends,” the doctor’s wife said, holding out a carefully wrapped parcel. “A sort of peace offering, you see. My husband described the conversation he had with Doctor Jarvis.
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry to say Doctor Jarvis left several hours ago. He did say he would call on my brother later this afternoon, so I expect him at any time. Would you like to wait and speak with him?”
“No… no. That’s not necessary. I’ll just leave this bowl of my favorite soup. I brought it for your brother.”
Mrs. Weatherby held out the bowl of soup wrapped in newsprint and a kitchen towel to keep it warm. Lydia took the bowl and laid it on the sideboard before motioning Mrs. Weatherby to a seat in the drawing room.
“It smells delicious,” she said with a grateful smile.
“I often take it to my husband’s patients. He says he’s not sure if it’s his doctoring skills that heal his patients, or my soup.”
Lydia smiled. What a generous way for the man to speak of his wife.
“I doubt that, though. My husband is an excellent doctor. He’s cared for the people of Middleton for more than forty years and brought hundreds of babes into the world.”
“That’s quite an accomplishment,” Lydia said.
“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Weatherby agreed. “Now, I must be going. My son is waiting in the carriage. Please, be sure your brother has a bit of soup. It will help him get better soon.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weatherby. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.”
“Good,” the elderly lady said, then rose from her chair. “Just know that my husband meant no hard feelings, as I’m sure Doctor Jarvis didn’t either.”
“No, of course not. I’m sure you agree with me when I say that Middleton is a large enough village to keep two doctors busy.”
“Hm. Yes. That’s what Elias says. Middleton is large enough for both of them.”
Mrs. Weatherby made her way to the front door, then bade Lydia good day and left.
Lydia watched the elderly lady’s son help her into a little two-seater sleigh and click the reins. The horse took off at a steady pace as if it was used to taking the doctor or his wife about the countryside.
When Mrs. Weatherby was well on her way, Lydia carried the soup into the kitchen. It smelled delicious and she wondered what was in it to make such an appealing aroma. She would have to ask Mrs. Weatherby for the recipe, if she would give it up.
“Are you awake, James?” she called as she cut a piece of the bread she’d recently taken out of the oven. Unable to resist temptation, she tore off another piece of bread for herself. She just wanted a small taste.
“Yes,” his weak voice answered.
“I have a treat for you,” she sang.
Lydia dipped the small piece of bread into the bowl and ate it. It was absolutely delicious. She would definitely have to ask Ethel Weatherby for the recipe. Heeding her growling stomach, she quickly downed two large spoonfuls of the savory broth.
Lydia placed the bowl of soup and the bread on a tray, then carried it to James’s bedroom. As she crossed the threshold into James’s bedroom, she was struck with the most wrenching pain she’d ever experienced. It began below her heart, then plummeted through her abdomen, stopping her in her tracks and stealing her breath.
She placed the tray on the bedside table, then doubled over in pain.
“Lydia, what’s wrong?” her brother asked, but Lydia couldn’t answer him. The pain was too severe.
“Lydia!”
Lydia cried out in an agonizing moan, then fell to the floor as the world went black around her.
. . . .
Joshua was gone longer than he’d anticipated, but now that Lydia’s br
other was out of danger, he didn’t worry overmuch. There were several medicines he needed to add to his bag, including more laudanum, and creams to relax the stressed and damaged muscles.
By the time he hitched his horse, it was nearing late afternoon. He’d been gone most of the day and wanted to return before nightfall.
He was glad when he saw James McDowell’s cottage at the crest of the snow-covered hill.
He pulled his horse and trap into the cowshed, unhitched the mare, and made sure she had plenty of feed and water. Then, he made his way to the cottage.
“I’m back, Lydia,” he announced as he entered.
No one answered his call.
“Lydia?”
“Help!”
Joshua heard James McDowell’s call for help and raced down the hall. When he reached the bedroom, he found Lydia’s brother on the floor next to Lydia.
“What happened?” Joshua asked as he knelt. He touched her forehead and her cheeks. She was pale and her lips were tinged with blue. She was cold and clammy and her forehead was dripping with perspiration.
“What happened?” Joshua repeated.
“I’m not sure,” James replied. “We had a visitor. Doctor Weatherby’s wife came to call and she brought over a bowl of soup. It’s sitting on the bedside table. Lydia told me it was delicious so she must have tasted it. As soon as she set it down, she clutched her stomach and doubled over in pain.”
Joshua leaned over and smelled Lydia’s breath. “No!” he cried out on a painful moan. “Lydia, wake up!” He shook her gently, then more forcefully. “Wake up, Lydia!”
The familiar smell of arsenic threw him into mild panic, but it was the underlying odor he hadn’t detected before that caused his heart to shudder.
Belladonna. Or deadly nightshade as many knew it. Ten berries could kill a grown man.
The deathly combination set Joshua into swift motion. He pulled several pillows from the bed and propped Lydia into a semi-sitting position. Then, he reached for his medical bag and sifted through the items inside it until he found the bottle he wanted.
“What’s wrong with her?” James asked. Fear and panic was evident in his voice.
“She’s been poisoned.”
“Poisoned!”
“Yes. I’m guessing from the soup Mrs. Weatherby brought.”
“But why—.”
Joshua opened a shutter and tossed out the water that was still in the basin on the bedside table, then placed it on the floor next to Lydia. With care, he held her head and poured a generous amount of ipecac syrup into her mouth. He had to be careful not to give her too much, but enough to induce vomiting. He had to empty her stomach or she would die from the poison she’d ingested.
“Swallow, Lydia,” Joshua encouraged. “That’s a good girl,” he pleaded. “Swallow.”
Most of the liquid he’d poured into her mouth escaped and ran down her chin.
“Drink, Lydia. You have to drink this.”
He poured another dose of the ipecac syrup into her mouth. This time he held his finger beneath her chin to keep her mouth closed while he massaged her throat.
“That’s good, Lydia. Now, get rid of the poison that’s inside you.”
He’d barely finished his sentence before Lydia’s body jerked. Again and again she convulsed before giving up the contents of her stomach.
“That’s my girl,” Joshua said as he held her head over the basin. “Get rid of all of it,” he encouraged.
She clutched at his coat, her eyes huge with fear.
“Joshua!” Her fingers tightened as she fought the demons that dueled inside her. “Joshua, I—”
“Lydia? Stay with me, now. Lydia?”
Joshua willed her to win her struggle, and for a moment it appeared she would though her eyes remained wildly dilated. Then, with no warning, her body went limp. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head lolled to the side.
“Lydia!”
Joshua was horrified. Had he given her too much ipecac? Not enough? How could he know without being certain what she had ingested?
But it was the worst thought that stole the breath from him. Was she the third patient he’d failed to save?
Was he the one who had killed her?
Joshua let out a cry of denial.
With both arms around Lydia he rolled her from side to side, then lifted first one of her arms above her head, then the other. Twice he repeated the process, watching every second for a telltale sign that her heart would resume its rhythm.
Then, a moment before despair set in, he felt a quickening in her body. In the same instant she gasped and flung her hand to grasp his lapel.
She was breathing.
“Thank God,” Joshua whispered. “Thank God!”
He sat on the floor rocking her back and forth.
His heart hammered at the thought that he had lost her, but her will to live had been stronger than his despair. All he could do was continue to rock her gently in his arms.
Eventually, she sank into exhaustion and Joshua reached for a damp cloth and wiped her face. Her eyes fluttered and she struggled to focus.
“You need to open your eyes, Lydia. You need to stay awake for a while.”
Again and again he encouraged her to wake. Finally, she opened her eyes and stared at him.
“What happened?” she asked.
He nearly laughed like a lunatic at the dear sound of her voice.
“You were poisoned.”
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head in disbelief. Her confusion was obvious.
“My stomach hurts.”
“I’m sure it does. And it will for a while.”
Joshua turned to where James lay on the floor. “I’m going to get your sister to her bed. Then I’ll come back and take care of you. Don’t move until I return. You’ve done enough damage to your leg. You can’t afford to injure it further.”
“I’m all right,” James answered. “But will she be?”
“Yes,” Joshua answered as he rose from the floor with Lydia in his arms. “She’s going to need to rest for a few days, but when her stomach has time to relax, she’ll feel better.”
Joshua coached Lydia to breathe deeply. In, out. And again. In out, until he was satisfied that her heart and lungs had emerged intact from the state of crisis. Then he carried her to her bedroom and laid her gently on her bed. He removed her shoes, then pulled the covers over her. The overwhelming enormity of his relief kept his own heart pounding long after he’d assured himself she was stable.
But at last his, too, quieted. It could do no less. Because the rhythm of his own heart now seemed impossibly joined with hers.
. . . .
She slept for a little while, then opened her eyes.
“Thank you, Joshua,” she said in a trembling voice. “I’m glad you came when you did.”
“So am I,” he said, pouring some water in a glass and holding it to her lips. She drank a little, but not as much as he would have liked her to.
“Do I smell some fresh-baked bread?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to take care of your brother, then go to the kitchen and bring you some bread. It’s the best thing to absorb whatever might be left in your stomach.” He didn’t tell her that after a brief time to allow the bread to absorb the dregs of the soup, he’d be giving her the ipecac elixir again.
“I’m not sure I can,” she moaned.
“You will. It will make you feel better.”
She didn’t answer him, but he knew the idea of eating right now wasn’t appealing.
“Don’t go to sleep until I come back, Lydia. I’ll just be a moment.”
Joshua kissed her on the forehead, then left her to see to her brother and fetch the bread.
“How’s Lydia?” James asked when Joshua entered his bedroom.
“She’s hurting right now but she’ll be fine.”
Joshua helped James to his bed, then checked his leg to make sure he hadn’t done any damage.
“Some. But I don’t want any more laudanum right now. Or morphine. I want you to tell me what happened to Lydia.”
“She was poisoned.”
“Was it the soup Mrs. Weatherby brought over?”
Joshua lifted the bowl of soup that was still on the bedside table and detected the unmistakable garlic smell of arsenic and the undertone of belladonna that made the soup lethal. Joshua set it back down on the table.
“Yes, it was the soup. Don’t touch it.”
“Why would she do something so horrible? She’s a doctor’s wife. Why would she poison Lydia?”
Joshua delivered a small plate of bread to Lydia, making her promise to eat at least half, then worked on James’s leg. He made sure none of the deep muscle stitches had been pulled out, and hadn’t caused any bleeding.
“I don’t think she brought the soup for Lydia, James. I think she brought it for you.”
James pressed his head into the pillow. “I think you’re right. She did. Lydia said Mrs. Weatherby brought me a bowl of soup. And, Lydia told me it was delicious. So, she must have tasted it.”
“She’s fortunate that she didn’t eat too much of it or it would have killed her.”
His own words circled in his head. Indeed, that’s what had happened. The soup had killed her. He felt the uneasy flutter as he realized he had actually lost her.
But she had returned to him.
Lydia’s brother looked him in the eyes. “But why? Why would she want to kill me?”
“Because of me,” Joshua answered. “You chose me to care for you instead of her husband.”
“Why should she care what doctor I chose?”
“I’m guessing that she considers me a threat to her husband’s practice. I should have realized it from the beginning. When Mrs. Smithers came to me, she poisoned her. And when I saw Ivan Crumbly, she had another opportunity to make it seem as if I had no skill as a doctor. No skill to save her husband’s former patients.”
“And I was to be her third victim. But how did she even know I was ill?”
Joshua was stilled by the question. How had Mrs. Weatherby known to bring her soup to James?
“Your visitor,” he said quietly as the realization hit him square between the eyes.
