Whit dropped his chin and a corner of his mouth turned down. “Well, no, I didn’t hear any talking coming from them.” He faced Adam. “Speaking as a witness, I’d say Bauer’s description is pretty accurate. Crude, but accurate.”
The petition sheets that Adam held fluttered from his hand as he dropped to his chair, chalk-white and perspiring freely.
As soon as the meeting concluded, Cole ran directly to Jessica’s office. “Now, aren’t you sorry you weren’t there?”
They sat in the parlor upstairs, surrounded by her trunks and cases, and she stared at him. “No—well, yes, I guess I am.” She had to laugh. “I’ll bet Powell Springs has never seen a town meeting like that one before.”
“Probably won’t again, either, with two scandals in one night. Plus Whit Gannon took Bauer into custody on a charge of drunk and disorderly conduct, and suspicion of theft over that jewelry he probably stole.” Cole leaned forward on the settee. “Anyway, Horace and Roland Bright decided that they will formally ask you to stay in town, permanently, since Pearson thinks he’s too good for a bunch of uncultured hicks like us. I suggested that the good doctor might even be interested in taking your spot in Seattle.”
“But I’m going to Seattle. That’s my position, and they’re expecting me. I got another telegram from them today.” She stood and turned to the box she’d been packing to fold a shawl.
He stood, too, and guided her back to the settee. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn black velvet box. “Jess, we have to make things right. We were meant to be, you and I. I knew you were supposed to be my wife from the time we were kids. Rough things have happened in the last few years, but we don’t have to drag them around with us for the rest of our lives. I made bad decisions, I’ve lost Riley—I almost lost you. I don’t want any more regrets than I already have.”
Regrets…regrets…Iris Delaney had mentioned them, Jess herself had thought of them, and now Cole was talking about the same thing. But—
“Cole, things have changed. A lot. What with Amy, and now the lynch mob that has it in for us, what can we do to fix any of that? That won’t go away just because Horace Cookson wants it to. He can’t order people into my waiting room. Even two boys on the street yesterday called me a whore.”
He winced but said, “Jess, you asked me to fight this battle. I did, and we won. The fuss will die down eventually. Besides, those people following Jacobsen and Leonard don’t represent the whole town.”
She dropped the shawl in a soft heap on her lap. “I guess you might feel differently if you were the one who’d been called names and had your moral character attacked. You know that women, and most especially physicians, are judged by their actions, perceived or otherwise. I…I feel crushed by the disapproval. I won’t have any patients here. They’ll end up going to Granny Mae before they’ll forgive me.”
“Well, maybe you could open an office in Twelve Mile. The ranch is about halfway between the two towns.”
Her brows rose. “What?”
“I’d even teach you to drive so you could get around more easily.”
He dropped to one knee in front of her and held out the black velvet box. “Jessica, I want you to marry me. Right away. No more waiting.” He pushed the spring catch on the box and its top flew up.
Astounded, she saw a ring. The setting was of an older style, and the diamond was cut in a manner that made her think of an antique.
He searched her face and gazed into her eyes with a look that shattered her heart. “It was my mother’s.”
“Oh, Cole…”
“You’re right—a lot has happened, good and bad. The only thing I know for certain in this world is that I love you. I always have. I want you for my wife, the way it was always supposed to be.”
She put her hand on his arm. “I love you just as much. But the hospital in Washington wants me.” Then an idea struck her, a flash of brilliance that she wished she’d thought of sooner. “I know—you could come with me! Seattle is a growing city, you could start a new business up there.”
He sat back on his heels and frowned at her as if she’d suggested they drive an oxcart to the moon. “How can I leave my family? Especially now that my brother is gone?”
“But all my education and hard work to get my degree and credentials—with no patients here, I won’t be able to use them. And I certainly can’t do research. At least I’m needed at that hospital.” She gazed unseeing at the pattern in the braided rug under her feet. “Everyone in Powell Springs abandoned me, including my own sister.”
“Jessica, you’re needed here. I need you here. If you go to Seattle, you’ll be running away again, just like you ran from New York.”
She pulled her hand away as if he’d slapped it. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”
He rose from the floor and sat in another chair, away from her. “I can’t turn my back on Pop and Susannah. They’re my home, my roots. They’re yours, too. So is this town, for good or bad. You and I—together we can face anything.”
She put out her hands in a gesture of appeal. “Cole, we can start all over again where no one knows us. I won’t have to see Amy every day or those hateful people who’ve been so cruel, when all I wanted to do was help them get well. Please, come with me.”
“So, you’d have to see them. I will too. I’m not ashamed of anything we did. Are you?”
“No, but—”
“And when we’re married, there won’t be much for any of them to talk about. It’ll be pretty dull stuff, especially now that Jacobsen has thrown the mob a new pork chop to chew on.”
“Will you at least think about coming with me?”
His gaze was cold and fixed, and she felt him pull back from her. It reminded her of that first day back in town when he’d gone into the café with Eddie. “No.”
Her hands closed into two tight fists in her lap and her voice shook with disappointment and anger. “Just once—once, I’d like to hear someone who claims to love me say, ‘I’d do anything for you, Jessica.’ But people keep expecting me to see their side of things and make exceptions for them.
“‘I thought you broke off with me so I started courting your sister.’ ‘I decided you didn’t deserve Cole, so I told him you weren’t coming back.’ ‘Whore.’ ‘Female physician.’ ‘You’re running away again.’ Everyone has an excuse for what they’ve done to me, said to me. When is someone going to take my side?” she demanded.
He got up and put the ring box on the kitchen table. “Jess, you promised a long time ago that you would come back to Powell Springs and marry me. You promised you would take care of this town and carry on for your father when he died. Not everyone here believes Adam Jacobsen. Even Granny Mae has stuck up for you, twice, against those few. And yeah, there are some crackpots here, just like there are everywhere. You’ll find them in Seattle, too, if you go. People who don’t think women should be doctors, people who will talk about you. A few who’ll disappoint you. But you’ll be alone there. No place is perfect.”
Jessica watched him put on his hat and sheepskin coat, then he headed for the stairs. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. “You made promises here and if you don’t keep them, then you’re not the woman or the doctor that I’ve always thought you were.” He nodded toward the velvet box. “If you decide to stay, put on the ring. If not—well, I’ll be next door.”
Her eyes smarting with tears, she shot from the settee and said, “You might as well take it with you now.” He studied her for a long moment, then walked back to the table and pocketed the small box.
She heard his heavy tread galloping down the stairs and across the floor. The overhead bell rang when he opened the front door and closed it again.
Then he was gone.
Jessica spent a hard, sleepless night, reliving the scene between Cole and her. He had not only attacked her personal integrity, but her integrity as a physician as well. For a few hours, she wept in great, gasping sobs, punched her pillow, got up
twice to tuck in the sheets, and had a glass of warm milk. Nothing helped.
At last, she kicked off the covers, got up, dressed again, and packed the rest of her clothes. Crying and exhausted, she threw things into her suitcases without a care for how they would look when she pulled them out again, wrinkled and crushed. She would get out of this apartment and out of this town as soon as she could possibly manage it. The heavy things like the books she would send for once she reached Seattle. She left a note addressed to whoever read it that told where she was going. And maybe when she got there, she’d write letters to the people who deserved a better explanation for her departure. In time, she might even write to Amy. Might. For now, she’d had enough of Powell Springs and everyone in it.
After she washed the few dishes in the sink, stripped the bedding, and straightened the place, she stood at the mirror and put on her hat and coat. Her eyes were puffy from crying and felt gritty from lack of sleep. She couldn’t find her gloves, as usual, but those things were the least of her problems now. She turned and took one last look at the apartment where she had spent the last six weeks. Her final glimpse was of the bedroom, where she and Cole had made love, and where, for a few hours, she had at last felt safe from the world and the mountain of crises she’d encountered over the past two years.
The front door key she put on the worktable, letting her fingers linger over it for just an instant before she walked out and closed the door behind her for the last time.
Carrying a suitcase, her doctor’s bag, and one satchel, she walked to the train station in the predawn darkness, averting her eyes as she passed Cole’s blacksmith shop. She was determined to wait outside the depot, if necessary, until it opened.
But she caught sight of the warm glow of lights from the depot windows. She left her bags outside and opened the door.
“Miss Jessica! This is a surprise.” Abner Willets greeted her from his ticket window. She smelled coffee brewing from somewhere behind him. “You sure missed some hot town meeting last night!”
“So I heard. Mr. Willets, I need a ticket to Seattle, please, on the first train available.”
The older man looked at her from beneath his eye shade, a slight frown drawing his bushy gray brows together. “You leaving us? I kind of had the feeling that you’d stay since that Pierce fella is going.” Abner still hadn’t gotten that snob’s name correct. If she weren’t so miserable, she might find humor in it. “Cole made it sound that way, anyhow.”
She swallowed hard. “No, it was always my intention to go on to Washington as soon as he arrived.”
“Huh. Well, I guess we’ll be without a doctor again, then, since Pierce isn’t staying, either.”
“What time did you say the train is leaving?” she prompted, trying to get beyond the subject, and the feeling that her heart had swelled to the size of a cantaloupe and lodged in her throat.
He consulted his schedule and looked at the wall clock. “You’re in luck. The next one is due in at eight forty-nine. We only get two early trains a week here going to Portland. When you arrive, you’ll get your Seattle connection at Union Station.” She nodded, and with slightly trembling hands, pushed the fare he quoted her under the brass grillwork that separated them.
He peered at her from under his eyeshade. “Are you all right, Miss Jessica? I know you’ve had your hands full since you got here.”
She managed a wobbly smile. “I will be all right, Mr. Willets. It’s true, the last few weeks have been a challenge.”
He reached under the grill and patted her hand, where it rested on the counter. “We really appreciate everything you did for us. If you’re feeling bad about those other sons of—um, troublemakers, just know that. Most of us were grateful you were here.”
She tipped her head down to keep him from seeing her tears, then walked to one of the benches to wait for her train.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Emmaline was sitting at her kitchen table, smoking her last Lucky Strike and deep in thought, when she heard a light knock on her door. Since that horrible day when Lambert had burst in, she kept it bolted all the time. Glancing at her bed to make sure it was presentable—just in case—she rose quietly and tiptoed to the window, hoping she’d be able to see who was standing on her stoop. But the angle wasn’t right.
Without making a sound, she picked up her loaded shotgun and pointed it at the door. “Who’s there?”
“Em, it’s me. Whit Gannon.” She must have been buried in her worries if she hadn’t heard his automobile pull up outside.
“You got anyone with you this time?”
“No, I’m alone.”
Still holding the shotgun by its barrel, she breathed a relieved sigh and opened the door a crack. His snow-frost hair and mustache were a comforting site.
When he saw her weapon, he smiled. “I promise I won’t make you use that on me.” She heard humor in the low rumble of his voice, but still—
“Are you here on official business, Whit?”
“No, no, Em, nothing like that. I’m not even here for your business. I just want to talk for a minute.”
Carefully, she opened the door and looked over his shoulder, and to the right and left. She saw nothing but the wet, gray day and the tangle of weeds in her yard. “All right, then. Come on in.”
His tall, rangy frame made the little shanty seem even smaller when he stepped inside. “First of all, I’m sorry, again, for that mess with Bauer. I should have known he was bringing me up here on a wild goose chase.”
She returned her shotgun to its spot beside the door and motioned him to her table. “I don’t blame you, Whit.” She smiled slightly. “At least, not all that much. Lambert said he’d make trouble for me.”
He settled in the chair opposite the one she took and hooked his ankle over his knee. “Well, I thought you’d like to know that he won’t be bothering you again for a long time. Later that night, he confronted the man you knew as Frank Meadows at a town meeting, and I arrested him for being drunk and disorderly, and he had possession of some valuable jewelry he couldn’t account for. He was pretty belligerent until he sobered up some in my jail cell. Finally, he admitted that he’d taken it off people before he buried them. He said it wouldn’t do them any good where they were going.”
She shook her head and picked up the cigarette she’d left burning on a saucer on the table. “God, I can’t believe I ever had anything to do with that man.”
“I’m going to have a time sorting out who the stuff belongs to. But I did find something on him that I think you can use.” She looked at him, wary and apprehensive. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of greenbacks. “There’s about a hundred dollars here. I figured you could use it more than him.”
She stared at it. “But is this—is this legal? Can you just take it without getting in trouble?”
“No, it isn’t, and yes, I can. Like I said before, this is my jurisdiction, and Bauer’s in so much hot water, I don’t think he’s going to make any fuss over this money.” He pushed it across the faded oilcloth.
She took the cash and smiled. “Thanks, Whit.”
He peered at her playfully. “Why, Emmaline, I didn’t know you had dimples,” he said.
She ducked her head for a moment, her grin widening. “They only show when I smile.”
“Then I’m glad I gave you a reason to show them off. Oh, and in case you were wondering, Frank Meadows’s real name is Adam Jacobsen. He was the minister in Powell Springs, but I think a lot of people were happy to see him tumbled off his high horse. He’s made trouble for them with the government.” He fiddled with the box of matches near the saucer holding her cigarette. “Bauer was the one who ratted on him at the town council meeting, so maybe some good came from that day.”
“Jacobsen—he told me he was a tractor salesman. I always thought there was something not right about that. I figured he was married.”
“No, not married, but not the honest man of the cloth he pretended to be.”
Whit pushed his chair away and stood up. “Well, I’ve got to be getting back. That flu business is almost over, but there’s always something going on around here. I just thought you’d like to know what happened. And to have a little money for all the trouble that husband caused you. Maybe you can file for divorce and be shut of him once and for all.”
She smiled again. “Yeah, maybe I can.” She walked him to the door. “You’re a good friend, Whit.”
He kissed her cheek, tickling her with his big mustache. “So are you, Emmaline. I’ll see you one of these nights.”
“For you, my door is always open.”
Cole noticed Muley tied up at Tilly’s hitching rail as soon as he was within a block of the saloon. Dodging puddles in the afternoon downpour, he supposed that could be a good thing. The father he knew, the one he remembered from just a month earlier, would want to relive and hash over the town council meeting.
Cole just wanted to sit in a corner and get drunk.
He’d barely slept, having spent the night tossing on the cot in the tack room, thinking of Jessica lying in her own bed just next door. A dozen times he’d almost gotten up, put on his pants, and gone over to reason with her, apologize to her, make love with her, chew her out.
There was no question that he couldn’t leave his family. Yet the feeling that she’d been right—that no one had really backed her up—had nagged at him throughout the night.
And she had made promises that she hadn’t seen through.
But that was because others had failed her. Including himself. He’d wanted her so much that when he thought she’d broken things off between them, he’d settled for what he’d believed was the next best thing—Amy. He’d ignored her hints and flirting for months, but eventually he’d given in.
Late this morning, he’d finally gotten up the nerve to tell Jessica that he’d been wrong and to beg her to stay. When she didn’t answer his knock, he’d tried the knob and found the door unlocked. After he discovered that she had gone, leaving no word but an impersonal note saying that she would send for the rest of her things, he’d walked to the side yard at the shop and began chopping wood.
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