The Last Bloom

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  “You as well, Doctor.”

  He found his father sitting in a reclining chair by the window. The sun’s light cast a ray of warmth across his face. His complexion was not as pale as when he first saw him within a few days after his heart attack, but a worn look remained in his eyes. Brodie swallowed hard, the emotion rising to choke him. His father was always a hardy man, a gentle giant, able to do all things, from saving lives to fixing the roof. Now he appeared so small and frail.

  He forced a smile as he entered the room. “And so you’re out of bed?”

  His father turned from the window. “Brodie, me lad, ’tis so good to see ye.”

  He made his way to his father and bent to kiss him quickly atop the head. “It’s so wonderful to see you sitting up.”

  “Aye, and ’twould be even better if I was allowed me pants,” he mumbled. “Sittin’ here in this airy gown and robe, bare-assed, is not to me likin’ for sure.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Doctors make the worst patients.”

  “Aye, well, I’ve had enough o’ it all,” he grumbled on. “Time for me to be on the other end o’ this thing, doin’ what I do best—helpin’ others get well.”

  “And you will, as you’re coming along nicely,” he encouraged. “But you know rushing a recovery will only end up with a relapse, and none of us want that.”

  “Aye, especially yer mother…she can’t take seein’ me like this.” He looked down at the way he was dressed.

  He frowned. “Where is Mama?”

  “I told Betsy to keep her home today,” he said. “The poor woman’s been by me side from the start, sleepin’ in a hard chair with her head restin’ on the bed. Every time I opened me eyes, I saw her.”

  He smirked. “And you truly believe Betsy’s going to be able to stop Mama from making her way to you?”

  His father rubbed his chin, the way he always did when he was frustrated or annoyed. “Nay, but I had to try. I can’t be seein’ her sick because o’ lookin’ after me.” Sighing, the elder man continued, “I couldn’t bear life without that woman, as stubborn as she can be at times, she’s me everythin’.”

  He searched his father’s eyes; they were the same emerald green as his. “When did you know Mama was the right woman for you?”

  His father smiled. “The moment I set me eyes upon her, waterin’ her father’s horse out in front o’ the barn. She caught me fancy with her long, curly hair blowin’ in the wind.” He laid his head back against the reclining chair as he continued the memory. “I was just startin’ out as a doctor when I’d been summoned to see what ailed yer grandmother and had to pass by the barn to get to the house. There yer mother stood, takin’ care o’ the horse, her full lips mumblin’ calmin’ words to the animal. I wondered to meself…why would a daughter be tendin’ to a horse, instead o’ her mother, who was lyin’ ailin’ inside the house? So, the bold lad that I was…”

  “And still are,” he interrupted.

  “Aye, I suppose… Anyway, I stopped to ask her.”

  He chuckled. “And what was Mama’s answer?”

  “She looked me straight in the eyes, squared her shoulders and said, ‘Can’t feed me sick Mama without workin’ the farm, and this here horse helps with the farm work. If ’tis any o’ yer business.’ And right there and then I knew I’d be makin’ this woman me wife. Six months later I did.”

  Brodie moved to the window, looking out at the busy street. “I envy you and Mama. To have such a love for one another all this time—strong together and for each other—working side by side to make a good life for your children by leaving all you knew and loved and coming to America.” He turned to look down at his father. “I want what you two have.”

  “Well, me handsome lad, ’twill help to find yerself a woman first,” his father teased. Then added, cocking his head sideways, “Unless ye already have.”

  He gave a taut nod, his face warming.

  “Ahhh, ’tis like that, is it?” his father marveled. “And would I be accurate in assumin’ yer eyes have been caught by a Miss Cassia Rose Holmes?”

  “My eyes and my heart.”

  His father arched a brow. “Well then, there’s only one way about it, son.”

  “How’s that, Papa?”

  His father sighed. “Ye must tell her how ye feel.”

  He inhaled sharply. “Then what?”

  His father arched a brow. “I suspect yer plannin’ on stayin’ then?”

  “Yes, I came to tell you exactly that.”

  His father smiled. “Then ye marry her, son—make her yers forever more.”

  Just then a familiar voice from behind interrupted their conversation with, “I’m home.”

  Both turned to see his younger brother, Tucker, standing in the doorframe.

  His father whispered a warning, “And I’d say ye better be damn quick about it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cassia’s legs, heavy with fatigue, dragged her bone-weary body up the front steps to her home. She’d ridden the bicycle all over town, as it was an extremely busy day with three mothers giving birth, a case of severe ulcer pain for one woman, a fungus problem in an elderly man’s toenails, and coming to the aid of a young girl having an asthma attack. At a few patients’ homes, she trudged on foot through backwoods, the road too bumpy for bicycle wheels, while toting her nurse’s bag. Her back, legs, and feet were tired and sore. She missed lunch, hadn’t even taken the time to have a drink of water or use a bathroom. At any rate she couldn’t wait for Brodie to return. Another case load like today’s would be too difficult to handle alone. If such a schedule was exhausting for her, at twenty-three, it must have been grueling for Doc Clarity, a man in his early sixties. He took on days like this on a regular basis, and that wasn’t even factoring in the times he worked at the clinic.

  “No wonder the poor man had a heart attack,” she mumbled.

  When she entered the house, her parents were in the parlor. From the doorway she saw her father reading a book and her mother engrossed in her embroidery. Too tired to talk, she made her way to the bathroom, used the toilet with great relief, stripped off all her dirty, sweaty clothes, and washed at the sink. She covered her nakedness with a robe she always left hanging on a hook by the door, before making her way to her bedroom. After quickly brushing her short curls, she climbed upon the bed and fell asleep.

  A gentle touch upon her brow woke her. She opened her eyes to find her mother sitting at the edge of the bed.

  She blinked her eyes into better focus. “What time is it?”

  “Nearing seven,” Amanda supplied, the warm look of a loving, adoring mother twinkling in her sapphire eyes. “Oh, how I miss those long golden locks.” She pushed aside the wisps of hair covering her forehead.

  Cassia sighed. “Hair grows, Mama.”

  “I suppose,” she whispered, caressing Cassia’s cheek. “Did you have a rough day?”

  She nodded and yawned, turning onto her side.

  “Well, your father and I have already eaten, but I saved a dish for you.” Amanda gave Cassia a light pat upon her behind, the way she did when she roused her on Sunday mornings for church as a small child. “Come now, before it grows too cold, unless you think you haven’t enough energy to chew?”

  “I’ll manage.” She felt the gnawing pangs of hunger rumbling within her stomach.

  Her mother gave her one more loving pat before she stood and made her way to the door. “Oh, by the way…” She paused to look over her shoulder. “Tucker O’Clarity’s home.”

  Her mother’s last words shot through her like an adrenalin infusion. In one fluid motion, she was on her feet. “Do you know this for sure?”

  Her mother turned to face her squarely and arched a brow. “You know I don’t take well to gossip and would never spread a falsehood.”

  She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Mama. I only meant…”

  Amanda folded her arms beneath her bosom. “Truth be told, he was here this afternoon, looking for his mother
. I told him she was staying in Willow Creek with his sister Betsy so she’d be closer to his father while he was in the hospital. I also told him Brodie was back from Boston and was taking over for his father, but he’d gone today to Willow Creek to visit Sean. Then he explained how he hitched a ride with a traveling salesman who happened to be passing Eagle’s Landing, so he had no way to see his father. That’s when your father offered him the use of our horse and wagon.”

  Her heart raced. “Did he ask about me?”

  “He did at that,” her mother said.

  “What did you tell him?”

  Her mother frowned. “Why, the truth, Cassia—that you returned from England about a month ago and had been working side by side with Sean until he became ill. Now you are seeing patients with Brodie, but today you were covering calls alone so he would be free to visit Sean.”

  Suddenly every nerve in her body felt like it was beating. “How did he look?”

  “Well, I reckon you’ll have a chance to see for yourself, when he brings back the horse and wagon,” Amanda said.

  She gasped. “I can’t have him seeing me like this?”

  Her mother smirked. “No, you can’t.”

  She hurried to her wardrobe. “Oh mercy, what should I wear? And my hair’s such a fright.”

  Amanda chuckled lightly. “I’ll leave you to your task at hand while I go upon my own mission.”

  Frowning, she glanced at her mother. “And what mission is that?”

  Amanda sighed. “That being the effort of trying to keep your food warm.”

  Food. She’d completely forgotten how hungry she was. Could she even eat one morsel right now? Her stomach rumbled with an answer.

  “Yes, please, if you don’t mind, Mama. I’ll be done here quickly.”

  Amanda shook her head. “You will have to decide, Cassia.”

  “All I need to decide right now is which blouse to wear.” She reached into the wardrobe for both a light blue and a pale green one and held them up for a better look.

  “The blue. It will go nicely with your navy blue skirt,” her mother advised, before leaving the room.

  Her mother was right, about the blouse and the men, as she once faced the same dilemma. And it couldn’t be said of Amanda Holmes that she didn’t follow her heart against all protocol. Becoming the wife of an Apache and going to live with him in his village wasn’t something a white woman in 1864 did. And yet her mother made the choice she desired, despite all those who frowned upon her decision.

  Making her way to the bed, she sat on the edge and closed her eyes to calm the storm of doubts rising inside of her. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to because I am a smart, resourceful young woman and can take care of myself.” The positive affirmation strengthened her resolve. Opening her eyes, she squared her shoulders and stood, continuing to dress for the evening.

  She loved her mother’s cooking, but tonight she tasted nothing she ate, automatically spooning the lamb stew into her mouth to quiet the rumblings of a hungry stomach. After washing her dinner plate and tea mug, she chose a book containing verses by Keats from the shelf and tried to become absorbed in the words. Never did she have a problem enjoying the author’s work, but tonight her attention drifted constantly to the mantel clock. The anticipation of seeing Tucker again after so many years rose like the morning sun—bright and warm. Her parents said nothing, keeping their eyes and minds on their past times or making small talk between them. She swallowed the mixed emotions threatening to choke her, as her parents’ oblivious actions made Cassia want to scream, yet their refusal to notice her behavior was appreciated.

  Around eight a knock sounded at the door, Cassia hesitated to stand for an instant seemingly riveted to the chair.

  “I’ll go.” Her father held up a hand for her to stay seated and placed the book he was reading aside. As he stood, she watched him stifle a grin. “It’s probably that young chap, Tucker O’Clarity, returning our horse and wagon.”

  “No doubt,” her mother nonchalantly commented.

  Cassia clasped her hands in her lap. “I don’t even know what to say to him after all of this time.”

  “Hello, might be good for starters,” her mother quipped.

  She frowned. “I’m glad you and Papa find this amusing.”

  “I’d say more interesting than amusing.” Looking up from her embroidery, Amanda searched her daughter’s face. “Cassia, neither Brodie nor Tucker has asked you for or promised you anything. So, the way I see it, all three of you are free to do whatever you want and more than able to give the situation time.”

  “Yes, time,” she whispered. “I need time.”

  “And you should take as much of it as you need,” her mother advised. “Because whatever you do decide will affect your life for the duration.”

  Her frown deepened. “But what if there isn’t a lot of time. Brodie might return to Boston and Tucker to wherever his job takes him.”

  Her mother leaned forward. “Cassia, the man who is right for you will find a way to never be without you.” She smiled fondly. “Proud Eagle crossed barriers that almost cost him his life to be with me. And your father never gave up hope for us, which I am so thankful for,” she added. “If a man loves you, he will go to any extreme to be with you. And if you really love him, you won’t mind doing the same.”

  She cast her eyes to her hands. “You gave up your home to be with Proud Eagle.”

  “No, I gave up a house—and one burning to the ground at the time—not my home,” Amanda corrected.

  It was moving and heartbreaking to listen to her mother speak of Proud Eagle. A tender expression crossed her visage, the memories both wonderful and painful. To love someone, bear their children, and then lose them had to leave a deep scar etched into the heart.

  Amanda’s voice softened. “Home would only be where the love of my life lived.”

  “But what if the love of my life wants me to give up being a nurse and a midwife?” she worried. “Lots of husbands don’t want their wives to work.”

  “True, but times are changing. Your occupation can successfully continue in any part of the world, as there’s always a need for medical help. So, wherever your husband’s career takes him, it can take you as well.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “All you say is true, Mama, but there’s no guarantee I’ll marry an O’Clarity man. Neither has made any proclamations. No promises have been spoken.”

  Amanda frowned. “Have I not raised a wise and independent daughter who cuts her hair, wears toe polish, and occasionally wears men’s trousers?”

  She gave a taut nod.

  “You will know not to choose a mate that does not foster and support the woman you are and want to continue to be,” her mother countered.

  “And what if I never find that mate?”

  “Then you will go on fulfilling your life with the work you’ve chosen to do,” Amanda said. “Life does not end because marriage and children aren’t a part of it. Helping others can be just as rewarding, but in a different way. And that’s completely fine. It would be a very dull world, indeed, if we all did the same things.”

  She smiled. “Dull, indeed.”

  Their conversation was cut short as her father entered the room. “Well, Tucker was kind enough to help me get Henry unhitched from the wagon and tucked away in the barn for the night.”

  Tucker followed her father close behind, looking more muscular and taller than when she’d seen him last. But what could she expect? At their last meeting, he was a teen-age boy. Now he was a man, and a very handsome one at that with large green eyes staring at her from beneath thick auburn brows. His hair, a deeper auburn, hung in waves to his collar. His skin was bronzed by the sun.

  “Hi, Cassia.” He eyed her with a similar awe.

  Her father cleared his throat. “Come, my love.” He extended a hand to his wife. “The hour is late.”

  Amanda nodded, accepting her husband’s help to stand. “Nice to see you again, Tucker
,” she said, as the two of them departed the room.

  And there she was, left by herself, facing the man she believed would be her husband and share with her the medical profession. She stood on shaky legs. Beside her heartbeat, the only other sound she heard was the ticking of the mantel clock.

  It was Tucker who finally broke the silence. “You’ve cut your hair.”

  Self-consciously she ran her fingers quickly through her short curls. “It is all the fashion.”

  A slow, easy smile spread across his face. “I like it; it fits you now.”

  Her face heated. “You’re different too.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Yes, in a scrappy sort of way.”

  “No. I didn’t mean…”

  “I’ve missed you, Cassia,” he interrupted, nearing her.

  Her stomach clenched. “And yet you never attempted to contact me.”

  He stood before her, looking down from his tall stance, smelling like leather and bay rum. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t always in my thoughts.”

  They were close, oh so close. All she had to do was lift her face a tiny bit and raise on her tiptoes, and her mouth would easily meet his lips. Did she dare?

  And then something strange happened. Unexpectedly she pictured the first day she saw Brodie, remembered his embrace and the confused feelings it sparked within her. Looking into his eyes was different than peering into Tucker’s, though they were the same shade of green. Brodie’s orbs held sincere warmth, a deep righteousness and respect. He was seeing her—and only her—and she felt admired and thrilled. Whereby Tucker’s gaze appeared like he’d practiced such a glance and probably used it often to melt the hearts of women. The thought offended her, and suddenly she felt cheap and used. The only thing special about her presence was she was the woman with him now and would suffice.

  She stepped around the chair she’d been sitting in, putting a distance between them. “It grows late, Tucker, and I’ve an early shift in the morning.”

  He arched a brow. “You wish for me to leave…so soon?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll see you out.” She made her way to the front door.