When the Heart Heals

by Ann Shorey

  That evening, Rosemary and Cassie sat across the kitchen table from one another, each holding a cup of chamomile tea. When Rosemary explained her brother’s request, Cassie’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t utter a word. The oil lamp overhead tinted the steam rising from their cups into a golden mist that swirled upward and disappeared.

  “I want to do the right thing—by both of you. I never dreamed I’d be faced with such a choice.” Rosemary’s teacup clinked when she placed it in the saucer. “I know they wouldn’t have asked if there were another solution.”

  “There may be other unmarried ladies in town who could help.” Cassie’s voice wavered. “The war left many of us with no prospects.”

  “True enough. But Judge Lindberg’s mind is no longer clear. I doubt he’d take kindly to a stranger.”

  Cassie fiddled with the hem on the tablecloth for a moment, then took a deep breath and met Rosemary’s gaze. “I’m not a stranger. Perhaps he’d tolerate my company. Then you wouldn’t have to leave your house and your garden—and your employment.”

  Rosemary studied her, taking in her pale hands with their smooth nails, her fashionable rose chintz dress, and her auburn hair arranged in the latest style. No one looked less like a domestic than her guest.

  “There’s more to do than keep him company.” She gentled her voice. “Amy prepares the noon meal and keeps the house tidy.”

  Cassie’s eager expression faded. “I can’t prepare meals. I never learned how. We always had help—even horrible Mr. Bingham has a servant.” She lifted her chin. “If they would hire a cook, I could do everything else. Keep him company, read to him, play chess. Whatever he might need.” She leaned across the table and clasped Rosemary’s hand. “Please. You’ve done so much for me. I want to repay you somehow.”

  Rosemary carried their empty cups to the washbasin. A flicker of hope sparked through her quandary. Now all that remained was to convince her brother and Faith.

  18

  Rosemary shivered and drew her sunburst-patterned quilt tight around her shoulders. Rain ticked against the bedroom window, and gusts of wind rattled the panes. What had seemed like a simple solution earlier that evening now sounded improbable in the hours after midnight. Even if Curt and Faith agreed to have Cassie stay with Faith’s grandfather, they were bound to balk at the idea of hiring a cook.

  Lord, your Word says to cast my cares on you, so please take this one and show me what to do. Once she shifted her burden, her eyes drifted shut. Amy’s wedding wouldn’t take place until July, so she had over two months to make a decision. She sighed and snuggled farther under the quilt.

  A strong blast of wind screamed around the corner of the house, followed by a crash and the sound of shattering glass. Bodie burst into a fury of barking. Rosemary leaped to her feet and grabbed her flannel wrapper, then groped for a match to light the candle next to her bed.

  When she flung open the door, the dog bounded to the top of the stairs and continued to bark. He looked over his shoulder, inviting her to follow him.

  Cassie stood in the entrance to her room with one hand at her throat. “What happened?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.” She clutched the candleholder and followed Bodie down the stairs, through the sitting room, and into the kitchen. Everything appeared undamaged. If there were no broken windows, then where—

  Rosemary froze. Her greenhouse.

  Hands quivering, she hurried to the pantry and took a lantern from the shelf. She touched the candle flame to the wick, then settled the chimney in place.

  Cassie trailed her into the kitchen. “Surely you’re not going out in that storm.”

  “I’ll only go as far as the greenhouse. I have to know what happened.”

  “Maybe a tree branch—”

  “We don’t have any trees back there.” Rosemary lifted the lantern. When she opened the door, the dog bolted into the darkness. “Bodie! Come back.”

  He ignored her and raced toward the front of the house. Thankful he couldn’t escape the fence, she stepped into the pelting rain. In moments, damp chill penetrated her wrapper. Pebbles on the walkway pressed into the soles of her felt slippers.

  When she reached the greenhouse, she held the light high. Instead of reflecting off the panes in the door, the lantern beam shone through into the interior. Jagged edges in the frame showed where glass had been.

  She took one step inside. Shards glittered on the earthen floor. A quick survey of the area showed a pot overturned and a fist-sized stone on the ground next to broken pieces of terra cotta. The scene told her all she needed to know.

  Swaying from shock, she put out a hand and steadied herself against the wall. She took several deep breaths and waited until she felt calm enough to return to the house.

  Come daylight, wearing boots to protect her feet from glass, she’d clean up the damage. For now, she wanted the safety of her warm kitchen.

  Shivering, she marched along the pebbled walk with rain trickling down her spine. Cassie stood in the doorway, holding a blue-and-white-striped blanket in her outstretched hand. She took the lantern.

  “I built up the fire in the stove. Wrap yourself in this.” She dropped the blanket over Rosemary’s shoulders.

  “Bless you.” She let her soaked wrapper fall to the floor and kicked off her wet slippers. “Where’s Bodie?”

  “I thought he was with you.”

  “He must be on the front porch, waiting for me to let him in.” Rosemary clutched the blanket around her with one hand and carried the lantern in the other while she hurried through the sitting room. Cassie stepped around her and opened the door.

  Bodie wasn’t on the porch.

  Alarmed, Rosemary whistled the two notes that always brought him running. No response. “Bodie!”

  The only reply was the sound of rain drumming on the porch roof.

  “Where could he be? He can’t get out of the yard.” She descended the steps in her bare feet, holding the lantern in front of her. Halfway to the fence, her breath stopped.

  The gate stood open.

  Rosemary set her jaw in a hard line. First thing in the morning she’d find her dog, then repair her greenhouse. Whoever was responsible for this would soon learn they weren’t going to scare her away.

  After spending the remainder of a sleepless night listening for Bodie’s bark, she rose at daybreak. A glance out the window told her the rain had stopped. Water puddled in low spots behind the house. The greenhouse door stood open, as she’d left it. Maybe the dog had sheltered in there.

  She threw on her warmest dress and laced her boots.

  Mud from last night’s rainstorm sprayed from the wheels of Elijah’s buggy as he traveled east toward Noble Springs Academy. He grinned to himself at the thought of the message he planned to deliver.

  He bounded up the half-dozen granite steps in front of the largest of three brick buildings on campus. A rangy man with gray hair like sheep’s wool approached him with his right arm extended. “You’re Dr. Stewart. I’ve noticed you at church lately.” He pumped Elijah’s hand. “I’m Malcolm Robbinette, the principal here. What brings you to our school? No one sick, I hope.”

  “Nothing like that. I’d like to speak with one of your instructors—Galen French.”

  “Fine young man. Touchy about that missing arm, but he’ll adjust.” Mr. Robbinette pointed east. “You’ll find him in the next building. He teaches classic literature to the older students.”

  “Thank you.” Elijah had his hand on the door handle when the principal spoke again. “Been hearing good things about you from our mathematics instructor, Curt Saxon. According to his sister, you’re a skilled physician.”

  Warmth bloomed inside his chest. Miss Saxon approved of his methods. High praise, considering the number of physicians she would have assisted at Jefferson Barracks.

  “Happy to hear that. She’s a fine nurse.” Prickly, but a fine nurse nevertheless.

  “She’ll be an excellent wife for some
fortunate man.” A bland smile rested on Mr. Robbinette’s lips.

  “No doubt.” Elijah pictured Jacob West, his hand tucked under Miss Saxon’s elbow as he escorted her to his buggy. The warmth inside chilled.

  He followed a brick pathway next to the carriage drive toward a square building with chimneys towering at each corner of the roof. Granite steps, like the ones next door, led to a recessed entry. Signs attached to the walls of the center hallway identified the subject taught within. Gothic script spelled out “Classic Literature” outside the second door on the right.

  Galen French stopped in the act of unloading books from a satchel onto his desk. “Dr. Stewart. Is one of my students ill?”

  “I came to see you—with good news.”

  “Good news would be welcome.” Galen sank onto a chair and rubbed his forehead. “Heaven knows I’ve had little enough lately.” Sunlight angled through a window and sketched pinched lines around his mouth.

  The lines stretched into a face-lifting smile when Elijah delivered his message.

  “How’d you find out?” Galen sprang to his feet. “I’ve tried everything I know.”

  “Sheriff Cooper told me. He asked around.”

  The morning shone with rain-washed freshness when he left the school a few minutes later. Galen’s effusive thanks echoed in his ears.

  Elijah couldn’t stop smiling, thankful he’d been able to atone for his earlier treatment of Miss Graves.

  When Elijah opened his office door a half hour later and saw Miss Saxon’s haggard face, his high spirits crashed. Purple shadows rimmed her tear-bright eyes.

  He whipped off his hat and flung it on the sofa as he strode to her desk. “Ro—Miss Saxon. You’re upset. What’s happened?” Without waiting for her reply, he added, “I shouldn’t have left you alone. If someone has come in here and hurt you, I’ll—”

  “No one’s been here.” Her voice trembled. “It’s Bodie. He’s missing.” Tears brimmed and spilled over. “He’s never run away. I’m afraid something bad happened to him.” She groped in her pocket and removed a handkerchief, dabbing at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know he’s just a dog, but I love him.”

  He remembered the plump black mongrel that had been his constant companion when he was a boy. When Inky died, he’d been inconsolable. Without thinking, he stepped around the desk and clasped her shoulder. “Tell me.”

  Her weight settled against him as she fought for control. He resisted the impulse to drop to her side and gather her in a comforting embrace. Instead, after a moment he let his hand fall, then perched on the edge of her desk. “How long has he been missing?”

  “Since last night’s storm.” She told him about the open gate and the damage to her greenhouse. “I found this when I cleaned up the broken glass this morning.” She handed him a wrinkled piece of brown paper.

  You bin warned about them witchs brews. There won’t be no next time.

  Anger seared through his body when he read the scrawled lines. “By heavens, Miss Saxon. You’ve got to tell the sheriff.”

  “What can he do?” She drew a shuddering breath. “I just want Bodie back—unhurt.”

  “I’ll help you look for him.” The words were out before he could stop them.

  She gazed at him, a startled expression in her eyes. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t ask. I offered.” He retrieved his hat from the sofa. “Shall we go?”

  “You can’t just close the office.”

  “Miss Saxon. We’re wasting time.”

  Rosemary stood with Dr. Stewart in front of her house. He pointed at the muddy street. “There are dog tracks here. Did you see them?”

  “I did. But they’ve been trampled by horses on the road. You can’t tell where they lead.”

  He took her elbow. “We’ll do this scientifically. Search each yard and alley on your block, then go on to the next one.”

  “I already searched my block before I left for your office.”

  “Good. Then we’ll start across the street. You call his name and I’ll look under shrubbery and porches. Maybe he was spooked by the storm.”

  He kept a firm grip on her arm as they stepped over water-filled ruts to the other side of King’s Highway. They looked and called in front of each residence, stopped in to ask at the post office, then doubled back through the alley that ran between houses and the rear of West & Riley’s. The aroma of frying bacon drifted from the screen door of the restaurant’s kitchen. The scent reminded her of Jacob. Rosemary picked up her pace, heading for the front entrance.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To ask Jacob if he’s seen Bodie.”

  Dr. Stewart tipped his head to one side. “Don’t you think he’d have brought the dog to you if he found him?” His tone held an edge.

  She slowed. “You’re right.”

  The screen door squeaked open. “Miss Rosemary? I thought I heard voices out here.” As if she’d conjured him, Jacob stood on the threshold, an apron wrapped around his middle. He nodded at Dr. Stewart.

  “The doctor is helping me look . . .” She swallowed the fear that rose in her throat. “We’re looking for Bodie. He’s been missing since last night.”

  Jacob crossed the alley and faced her, concern shining from his eyes. “Your dog. I’m sorry. Can I help?”

  “Would you . . . would you please tell your customers he’s missing?”

  “Let them know there’ll be a reward if he’s found.” Dr. Stewart hovered close enough to her shoulder that she felt warmth radiate from his body.

  “Good. I’ll match whatever you put up.” Jacob dropped a half bow in their direction and returned to the kitchen.

  19

  Rosemary left the church the following Sunday with her mind in rebellion against Reverend French’s sermon. He’d chosen a verse from the First Epistle General of Peter—Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.

  She held her Bible tight against her chest as she walked home through the balmy May morning with Cassie at her side. “I cast all my care on the Lord the night Bodie disappeared, and look where it got me.”

  Cassie gave her arm a comforting pat. “You’re always telling me the Lord takes his own time to answer prayers. Bodie could still come back. It’s only been a week.”

  “A week.” Her steps lagged. “We’ve posted handbills in every store. By now, someone would have seen him.” She blinked back tears. “He’s gone.”

  “Are you still planning to ride to Hartfield with Mr. West this afternoon?”

  Rosemary forced a smile, recognizing Cassie’s effort to change the subject. “Yes. I hope to pay a call on Jolene on the way.”

  Two buggies rolled past, throwing up a cloud of dust in their wake. Cassie waved a gloved hand in front of her face. “If it’s not mud, it’s dust. I don’t know which is worse.”

  “The mud. Definitely. Bodie always—” She gulped. “He loved to get dirty.”

  At the sound of footsteps behind them, she turned to see Dr. Stewart hurrying in their direction. He tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, ladies. Miss Saxon, I hoped for a chance to talk to you after services.”

  Excitement pulsed through her. “Do you have news of Bodie?”

  He lowered his voice. “No.” Apparently he noticed her crestfallen expression. “I’m sorry.”

  “Then why—?”

  “I paid a call on the Harper family yesterday to see how little Benny is faring.”

  She recalled the doctor’s objection to her suggesting comfrey root to the boy’s mother, and prayed there had been no complications in his recovery. “Is . . . is he well?”

  “Indeed. His hand is healing perfectly.”

  “I’m so glad. Thank you for telling me.” She half-turned, ready to continue toward her home.

  “One more moment, please.”

  “Of course, Doctor. What is it?”

  “I wondered . . .” He harrumphed. “Would you have time this afternoon to show me how you pre
pare a comfrey poultice?” The eagerness in his deep brown eyes sent tingles down to her fingertips.

  Rosemary fought disappointment. “I’d be pleased to show you, but unfortunately I have an engagement this afternoon. Perhaps another day?”

  “Would tomorrow evening do?”

  “That would be lovely. Miss Haddon and I will be at home.”

  After he strode away, Cassie turned to her. “This is the first time I’ve seen you smile since Bodie disappeared.”

  “I’ve hoped he—” She bit her lip. “Imagine. He asked about comfrey.”

  “I told you he might be interested. He wouldn’t have been reading that book otherwise.”

  “You could be right.” She clasped Cassie’s hand. “I hope so.”

  Rosemary had no sooner changed from her Sunday dress into her blue plaid skirt and a white lace-trimmed bodice when she heard Jacob’s knock. She gathered her shawl and bonnet and hurried to answer the door, wishing it were Dr. Stewart instead of Jacob on the porch.

  “You’re very prompt.”

  “Years of minding a business will do that to you.” He took her shawl and settled the fluffy wool wrap over her shoulders, hands lingering a moment before releasing her. “I don’t see your dog. He’s still missing?” His voice softened with concern.

  She looked down, willing herself not to cry. “Yes. I fear I’ll never see him again.”

  “Perhaps a new puppy would help? One of my customer’s dogs just had a litter.”

  “No. Thank you. Not now.” Not ever.

  “I understand.” He took her arm and escorted her to his buggy.

  The previous Sunday she’d been too preoccupied with Curt and Faith’s suggestion to notice the bright new wheels. Red spokes contrasted smartly with the ebony body of the carriage. From the appearance of the polished exterior, Jacob had spent extra time preparing for their afternoon together.

  She shot a glance at Dr. Stewart’s home as they traveled east, wondering how he was spending his Sunday. She knew he’d struck up a friendship with Sheriff Cooper, but now that the sheriff and Amy were engaged, she doubted the two men spent much time together.