The Thorn Keeper

by Pepper D. Basham

  She must have recognized his teasing because she narrowed those feline eyes and jammed one hand on her hip. “You enjoy that, don’t you?”

  “What? Cutting rations?”

  “Not once do you torment my sister with your teasing, and certainly not my mother, but me?” She wagged her finger at him, unleashing his smile. “You practically torture me with it.”

  “No one else is quite so entertaining.”

  “Indeed.” She waved a hand in the air. “I assume then, you know exactly why I need the extra money?”

  “And how you lost your coat.”

  “Yes, that.” Her gaze lingered in his for a second longer, tightening the inexplicable bond he had with her. She looked away. “All because of your ridiculous aunt.”

  “My aunt?”

  Catherine resumed her walk with a quicker step, a habit he’d noticed when she was particularly annoyed or thinking. He rushed to keep up.

  “The way she pushes people around in this town is ridiculous. The weak. The strong. She doesn’t care who they are as long as she holds them under her wrinkled old thumb. How can she be so unfeeling?” Catherine paused to send a scorching glare. “She is such a…such a—”

  “Buzzard? Snake?”

  Her brows rose. “To name a few.”

  He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “What about viper, or perhaps tyrant, or—”

  “Wait.” She stopped him with a raised hand. “Why are you helping me come up with insults for her? Aren’t you supposed to keep me on the straight and narrow?”

  “Admittedly.” He looked up to the sky, making a poor attempt at keeping his expression thoughtful. He preferred a lighthearted turn in the conversation, untainted by his aunt’s reputation. “But I can only imagine the choices I offered were of a kinder nature than the ones rolling around in that head of yours.”

  Catherine opened her mouth as if to object and then stopped, clearly revisiting a few unnamed insults. She offered a repentant sigh. “You’re right.”

  “And which of those horrible attributes of my aunt’s has inflamed your cause for justice today?

  “This time?” Catherine stepped onto Main Street and slid him a glare. “She’s in danger of becoming a murderer.”

  Chapter Two

  David grabbed Catherine’s arm before she entered Main Street and drew her back into the alley, away from curious onlookers.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Poor man. David Ross knew a great deal about taking care of wounded soldiers, but managing the likes of his notorious aunt? Catherine doubted he had much expertise. Despite his good intentions, his life had been one of shelter and care, with proper parents as guides. What did he know of manipulation and betrayal?

  The less for his kind heart, the better. Which certainly meant keeping her emotional distance. He was the type of man who could make a woman believe in glass slippers and magic – and Catherine had never put much stock in fairytales.

  “She’s made an edict throughout town.”

  “An edict?” His grin returned with a hint of disbelief to curl the edges but with no show of his infamous dimple, the one piece of his pristine disposition which hinted at mischief. “Like a king?”

  “Exactly.” She pointed at him. “It’s serious, Dr. Ross. She’s taken away a person’s right to buy and sell.”

  “How can she possibly do that?”

  “Because, as you said, she practically owns this village.” Catherine pinched her fists tight. “Oh, if I had the money I’d buy back those buildings. Hateful woman! What else should we expect from the old…the...the…”

  “Tyrant.”

  The tilt in his smile proved he still doubted the gravity of his aunt’s decree. Well, this news should sober him. “If any of her shopkeepers sell to those undeserving, then they are in danger of losing their livelihood.”

  “Undeserving?”

  “Yes. The poor, the outcast.” She waved a hand toward herself. “The fallen.”

  David stared at her for a full ten seconds as if processing the information took more effort than usual. “Why?”

  “Why?” Catherine gave a humorous laugh. “Because she can.” She pulled the coat to her chest to keep the warmth and scent nearby for sweet reassurance. It smelled of peppermint, a plant he grew for medicinal purposes, but the scent clung to him like a personality trait – refreshing, sweet, and inducing a Christmasy anticipation. “Something must be done before worse things than angry edicts occur.” She shrugged out of his coat, reluctant to part with its scent. “Much worse.”

  His jaw stiffened with purpose as he took the proffered coat. “You are right. Something must be done…and I should be the one to do it.”

  She turned and stepped from the alleyway, only to meet the triumphant glare of Mr. Dandy. He leaned against one of the few trees in the Public Park, pen and pad in hand, with a smile boasting enough wicked confidence to curl Catherine’s stomach.

  “Dr. Ross, I’m afraid we have an additional problem.” He followed the direction of her gesturing nod. “I can almost promise you that tomorrow’s news will not please your aunt one bit.”

  David pushed opened the door to Bree’s Gallery and savored the scent of fresh chop from the luncheon bar. His great aunt only dined in the finest places, and Bree’s boasted the best Ednesbury offered. He’d been on his guard since receiving her dining invitation, and Catherine’s news only heightened his suspicion. What could she possibly want?

  The host recognized David at once and ushered him to follow. Aunt Maureen’s silence since the day he’d moved his hospital to Roth Hall, the Dougall family estate, blared her disapproval. He’d never understood his aunt’s long-standing hatred against the family. Unworthy, she’d called them. She embraced the societal chasm like a tsar, and her black-and-white thinking skewed her vision. Perhaps he could take up his father’s mantle and attempt the impossible—logic. David smiled at the thought of his gregarious father – the one person in the family to shatter the stifling rules and marry outside of the Cavanaughs expectations. The decision had incurred disinheritance and broken his father’s heart.

  With the recent news about his aunt, David was all the more thankful for the distance which lessened the Cavanaughs influence…lessened, but not extinguished.

  David slowed his approach to his aunt. Although his mother had only died a month ago, an ache of loss remained a constant presence. Aunt Maureen had never approved of his mother.

  She sat at a table overlooking the rest of the lower level of the restaurant, a perch to keep her aware of all the goings on around her. Her throne.

  “Aunt Maureen.”

  Her steel gray eyes kept their hold on him as he sat. “David.”

  He never allowed his gaze to waver. Aunt Maureen brandished intimidation with the precision of a skilled surgeon, cutting people down to her will. He would not be one of those victims, for both his parents’ sakes.

  “I was surprised to receive your invitation. I assumed, after I moved my patients to Roth Hall, I’d lost your favor.”

  She gestured toward the seat across from her. “I have considered the situation and…regret I made such a hasty decision in not supporting your efforts with more clarity.”

  David folded his hands on the table, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. Her scripted speech curved with a hidden agenda that squeezed out the slightest hope he’d entertained on his walk across town. “I think your lack of support was crystal clear, Aunt.”

  She raised her brow and, if he wasn’t mistaken, upturned one side of her smile. Maybe his stubbornness impressed her a little.

  “I realize you could not have controlled the Zeppelin attack on our village or the destruction of your hospital. And I understand you needed immediate housing for your wounded, a service I could not provide at the time.”

  Could not? Or would not?

  “I’ve come to appreciate the necessary benefits of having a hospital in town and recognize your giftedness i
n your occupation.”

  No doubt the prestige a war hospital brought holds no bearing on her sudden change of heart?

  “Even though a doctor doesn’t increase one’s social status?”

  She met his challenge with a narrowed gaze, taking time to stir her tea before answering. “I wouldn’t expect you to choose a socially advantageous career with your father as an example.”

  “My parents taught me to value what matters most. Compassion over social status and kindness over pious edicts.”

  She took a sip of her tea, unflapped by his response. “I will take your own customary insolence as part of the grieving process for your mother and overlook it this time.” There was a distinct warning in the downward turn of her mouth. “And I did send your father twenty pounds as evidence of my condolences.”

  Because money solved everything.

  “Is that all you have to say, Aunt Maureen? Your regret for the negative public response to your lack of support for the hospital and an insult about my family’s choices? Your change of heart doesn’t have anything to do with the Dougalls allowing me to use Roth Hall as a hospital, does it?”

  She almost imperceptivity halted her movements as she dusted scone crumbs from her fingertips. “I’ve already stated my regret over my lack of support for you. As far as the Dougalls?” She spat out the name. “I’ve never hidden my distaste for Victoria Dougall and any of her family.”

  “Why all this anger for a family who have done nothing to you?”

  Her fist tightened on the table and then relaxed. “Nothing? How little you know of the power of the heart to forget. It never forgets. Should mind and body fail, the heart remembers.” She looked away and drew in a deep breath, her attention returning to him. “I have an offer for you, to make amends for my lack of support and to provide a long-term opportunity for your service.”

  David remained silent, waiting.

  “I am certain the financial stress and emotional demands of not only housing wounded soldiers but also war orphans in her home has caused some… discomfort for Moriah Dougall.”

  He couldn’t deny it. Mrs. Dougall’s frayed nerves proved as unpredictable as Germany’s movements in this war. She neither had the financial resources, long-term space, or emotional fortitude, to secure his needs for the wounded soldiers coming in from the Front.

  “I’ve made a list of possible facilities for your new hospital, all of which are within the town limits. They each require some form of renovation or repair before they are fit for your medical needs, but I plan to cover those costs for the purpose of ensuring your service as administrator.”

  She slid a slip of paper across the table to him. David scanned over the names of the properties, each carefully chosen for location, space, and garden areas. Perfect places, and convenient to the train depot and supplies.

  “These…these properties are superior to anything I could have imagined.”

  Her smile teased larger, more confident. “Along with this facility, I plan to provide a regular stipend for supplies and equipment. Based on my figures, I propose this initial amount.” She slid another paper to him with a number scribbled.

  David blinked at the unexpected generosity.

  “And, of course, a comfortable salary for you, to ensure you can complete your tasks but also support a family in your future. I have written the salary below the stipend costs.”

  “This is quite generous of you.”

  “I see the need to change my expectations as our village continues to grow. And perhaps this agreement will lead to a reconciliation of your father’s position to the family, something we both recognize is a desire of his heart.”

  David measured each of her words, waiting for the dark unveiling of her well-placed scheme. She’d secured all of her marks, but at what cost?

  “It’s an overwhelming proposition.”

  “One over which you shouldn’t hesitate, but knowing your mind, I will give you two months to answer. We should be able to come to an agreement before Christmas, don’t you think?” She nodded, taking another sip of tea. “Two months. And I’ll even make the announcement at my Annual Christmas Gala. You only need do one, small thing for me.”

  The lynch pin emerged like a scalpel. “Your price.”

  “Everything has a price, my dear boy, it is the game of life.” She lowered her cup to the table, her eyes darkening with her smile. “We all must learn to play it, even clever, good-hearted men like yourself. And this menial price comes with the benefits of the financial security for your future, your father’s happiness, and the good of this dear village.”

  The sense of dread deepened with her summary. “What do you want, Aunt Maureen?”

  “Once the hospital property is readied for patients and you take command of your new facility, once I announce your allegiance at the Christmas Gala…”

  David braced himself.

  “I want you to cease all contact and communication with the Dougall family.”

  Chapter Three

  “I’m so glad you’ve arrived.”

  Ashleigh met Catherine at the door. Her sister’s calm voice belied the concern in her eyes. Ashleigh’s white nurse’s hat sat crooked on her dark head, another evidence of a long morning with the wounded, and her pale face marked the remnants of her recovery from pneumonia – a sickness which almost took her life.

  Catherine rushed forward. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Ashleigh placed a reassuring hand on Catherine’s arm and looked to the door as David entered, arms laden with more supplies. “But we’re out of morphine. I just used the last gauze.” She sent Catherine a pleading look. “And we’re in desperate need of more diapers.”

  Catherine waved the bag she held like a flag of victory. “Ask and ye shall receive.”

  Ashleigh snatched it away. “I’m not sure what’s worse—moaning wounded or screaming infants.”

  Catherine took a few items from one of the boxes in David’s arms. “I’ll take the wounded. They’re less terrifying.” She shot David a triumphant grin before turning back to her sister. “I seem to have a particular interest in the needy.”

  “I assure you, sister-dear, the infants we have upstairs are quite needy.”

  “Ah, yes.” Catherine lifted a bottle of the morphine and tipped it toward her sister. “But I prefer those who smile when they see me coming as opposed to little eyes which widen in fear.”

  Ashleigh laughed. “That’s not true.”

  “It feels true. Have you seen how Clara Cramer’s nearly bulge when I enter the room? One would think I was out to hurt the poor child.”

  “She responds that way to everyone.”

  “Except you.” Catherine shook her head. “You’re the calming angel to every little lost lamb.”

  “Come now, Catherine,” David interrupted, placing one box on the entry table. “You make a world of difference for those soldiers.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Certainly.” David’s lips barely twitched to warn of his teasing. “You significantly improve the view of any room you enter.”

  Catherine’s mouth swung unhinged. From the sudden flush of red saturating David’s face, he hadn’t meant to compliment her…especially in such a flattering way. The smile forming on her lips came all the way from her heart.

  Someone ought to rescue the poor man from his humiliation.

  She tipped her chin up to pose as she’d seen on an old Gibson Girl poster. “I have always enjoyed being admired. Clearly, I’ve found the perfect occupation.” She chuckled and walked toward the West Wing. “I shouldn’t leave my admirers waiting.”

  “Catherine.” Ashleigh stopped her. “I need to talk to you about an unexpected change of plans.”

  Catherine exchanged a glance with David. Sudden tension ignited a swell of nausea.

  Ashleigh drew a letter from the pocket of her apron. Her eyes, weary from a long day’s work, took on a hint of something more…something worse.

 
; Catherine’s hand went to her stomach. “Grandmama?”

  Ashleigh nodded. “She’s not recovered from her previous illness. In fact, as soon as Sam arrived back home from his visit here, he wrote me straight away. She’s not well.”

  “It would be like her to not tell anyone.”

  “No doubt where you got your stubbornness.” Ashleigh’s attempt at lightening the mood only deepened Catherine’s regret. So many years wasted on misplaced resentment against Ashleigh. So many lost moments while Catherine chased men’s attentions and heightened family status. She’d embrace any likeness to her sensible and gracious Grandmama. Even stubbornness.

  “How early can you travel?”

  “A ship leaves in three days.”

  David stepped forward. “You’ll have to catch the train by tomorrow.”

  “Yes.” Ashleigh looked back to Catherine. “And pray that’s enough time.”

  The gravity of those words ushered death’s reality into the room, as palpable as the wounded’s presence next door. It twisted her heart into a helpless patter. “There has to be enough time.” Catherine took her sister by the shoulders. “She…she’d want you there.”

  Ashleigh covered one of Catherine’s hands with her own. “She’d want both of us there.”

  “But she needs you, and we can’t both leave David.”

  His name slipped off her tongue as easily as if she’d always spoken it. She pinched her heart against the easy familiarity with a firm grip.

  “I’ll leave Kara in charge of the orphanage. With Fanny and Michael’s assistance, she should be able to manage.” Ashleigh shrugged one shoulder, her walnut eyes lighting with humor. “She practically runs it now since I’ve had to give so much time to the hospital.”

  “We never imagined the influx of soldiers, or the Zep attack.”

  She waved away the apology in David’s words. “I came to help you serve. I have no regrets. And I plan to leave Catherine in charge of the other two nurses. She has the makings of an excellent administrator.”

  Catherine’s gaze swung to her sister. “Me? That can’t be a good idea.”