The Thorn Keeper

by Pepper D. Basham

  An apology shimmered in her eyes, her breath shaky and warm. “I know you well enough that if you make this decision, one inspired by the high emotions of the last few days, you’ll wake tomorrow to regret it.”

  “You can’t see the future, Catherine, or my heart. The only regret I’ll have tomorrow is not seizing the opportunity to express my…my sincere affections.”

  Her palm stalled his closeness again. “Don’t you see, dear Doctor, pairing yourself with me will change things for you. Forever. Once your reputation is marred, it cannot be undone. I would never wish that on you.”

  “You can’t keep denying what’s happening between us. I know you feel it.”

  She placed her palm against his face, her thumb caressing his cheekbone, a sad smile offering him little encouragement. “Acting on what I feel is exactly what got me into my current situation, and I’ve learned a clear lesson. I can’t…we can’t…” Her words trailed off, but the unspoken ending blazed with implications.

  Her hand dropped back to her lap, but he covered it with his own. “I know you care about me. It isn’t only a feeling. I see it in your kindness. In your concern. In all of your actions.”

  Pain and grief carved deeper lines in her brow, and she stood. “Exactly. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect you, even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

  With that, she turned and ran toward the house.

  Catherine’s pulse hammered at the same speed as her feet. One more touch, one more look of such unhindered and beautiful affection, would rip her self-control in half from the sheer craving. Oh, how her heart wrenched with love for that ridiculous man! Why did he have to trick his mind into thinking he cared for her?

  The sweet pull from those emerald eyes! The rush of warmth over her skin as he whispered her name. The endearing appeal of his tenderness which proved almost intoxicating.

  If she gave in at all, she’d succumb altogether…and forever. She wouldn’t chain him to her failures and reputation. Not a man whose every choice was weighed with a sense of rightness. No.

  She ran up the stairs to her room and closed the door, leaning against it, eyes pinched, until air came without a tremor into her lungs. All her attempts to keep him at arms’ length had failed miserably.

  Lord, why? Her soul ached with a battle between her mind and her heart. One knowing she made the right choice to run away and the other wondering…what would his lips have tasted like?

  “Like peppermint?” she whispered, palm smoothing over the small, hardening bulge at her abdomen. Her hand stilled. And how could David ever accept both of them?

  A knock to her door sent her spiraling from her momentary rest. Had he followed her? She didn’t have enough strength to stave him off again. She pressed her palm against the door and leaned close, listening.

  “It’s not him,” Fanny’s voice answered. “Open the door.”

  Catherine groaned and turned to place her forehead against wood. “It’s probably best if I’m left alone right now, Fanny dear.”

  “And I’d imagine you don’t want me to ask you these questions out in the hallway where anyone passing by can hear me.”

  Catherine pressed her eyes closed again and sighed out the fight. There was no use in it. Fanny knew the entire family so well, she predicted movements like a prophet. Catherine opened the door, allowing the ginger-haired woman inside.

  “I saw ya run in from the garden,” Fanny said, moving to the bed to turn down the coverlets. “Thought a wolf was on your heels from the pace you set up those stairs.”

  Catherine walked to the other side of the bed, helping with Fanny’s work but silent.

  “Then I noticed Dr. Ross was the wolf when he came in a few seconds behind you, lookin’ like he didn’t rightly know whether to chase you or leave you be.” Fanny glanced from across the bed with that piercing gray gaze of hers.

  Catherine considered redirecting the conversation, but with Fanny’s background, it would have done little to deter her. “He’s momentarily confused, but it should pass.”

  Fanny responded with a raised brow and went back to her work. “Are you certain about that? What I know of Dr. Ross, he doesn’t seem like the sort of man who is easily distracted from his plans.”

  Catherine placed the pillow on the bed and then dropped down into her high back chair. “I mean to make certain his plans change. He’s having a temporary lapse in his good judgment.”

  “And just what sort of calamity does he wish to bring on himself?” The glint of humor in her eyes told Catherine that Fanny knew a bit more than she displayed. “Or perhaps you?”

  “He fancies himself…attracted to me.” Catherine picked at a loose thread on the arm of her chair. “It’s ridiculous really. If he had his regular wits about him, he’d never make such a choice.”

  “I take it you’re not keen on his affections?”

  The undeniable humor in Fanny’s voice pricked at Catherine’s annoyance. “No, I’m not. It’s a horrible decision, really.” She shot Fanny a narrowed-eyed stare, but Fanny’s grin only grew wider. “Any logical man would give a wide berth to a woman with my past.” She patted her stomach. “And future. I can’t see why he’d even toy with the idea.”

  “He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who toys with anyone’s emotions.”

  “No.” Catherine sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “So the only other reason would be he’s been driven mad by his work.”

  Fanny laughed. “Or the simple fact he sees the good of such a match.”

  “There is no good in such a match, Fanny. David would be ruined by association.” She shook her head. “I should run away. Leave him to find another beneficiary for his beautiful affections.” Her voice softened at the memory of his palms touching her face, the closeness of his breath and lips.

  “I see.”

  Catherine blinked from her daydream. “It would be what’s best for him.”

  “What’s best for him?” Fanny tapped the bedpost as she stepped closer. “Or what’s best for you?”

  “Of course what’s best for him! Can you imagine the repercussions of his aligning himself with a woman who has a reputation of being a notorious flirt, compounded now by the fact she’s expecting another man’s baby?” Catherine raised a finger to add to her mountain of reasons. “Not to mention the reduced social circumstances of my family and the inevitable neediness involved in being attached to my mother in any possible way.”

  Fanny sat on the chair near her and nodded, pinching her lips closed in thought. “But for love, could not any of those be overcome?” She pinned Catherine with another stare. “I wonder if the true reason is you’re scared he might actually overcome all your objections…and then what? When you have no shame to hide your heart behind, what will you do?”

  “That’s preposterous, I—”

  “You’ve just been so good at keepin’ your emotions in amiable control, prided yourself on never givin’ too much of yourself. Even with the nasty Master Drew, you always planned out your decisions, carefully, keeping your emotions far from your heart.” She took Catherine’s hand in a gentle hold. “But haven’t you learned by now you’ve never been in control of your own life? And that maybe, in this, you’ve pinched off the sweetest part of what God’s offering you.”

  Catherine pulled her hand free. “I’ve never been the fairytale sort.”

  “No, but you’re the redeemed sort now, Miss Catherine. Even better than a faerie story. Don’t underestimate God’s ability to work miracles, but most importantly, don’t underestimate his joy in overwhelming you with his love.”

  “The idea of David’s love is too beautiful.” A sudden rush of tears caught her words and she paused, looking away from the hope on Fanny’s face. “Too good a gift.”

  “Do you think he is incapable of weighing his own choices?”

  Weren’t all men? But the doubt sliced through her middle, nudging at a hope she dared not taste. She turned to face Fanny, slamming
her fist against her chest, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I love him in some dangerous way.”

  “And how can that be bad?”

  “How can it be good? He deserves someone with a full heart.”

  Fanny chuckled. “Dear girl, I don’t think it gets fuller than yours. Your life is overflowing with purpose and passion. What could be grander than to give it to the man you love? This godly man who cares for you in return?”

  “I don’t deserve him.” Catherine rubbed at the tears. “Not someone like David.”

  “Isn’t that what grace is all about?” Fanny took Catherine’s hand again, warming Catherine’s face with the glow of her smile. “God loves extravagantly. He’s a generous father. Why can’t you accept this gift as you accepted his grace in her soul?”

  The tiny sliver of hope trembled with life. No, she couldn’t hold on to it. “What if David lives to regret his choices? What if he becomes bitter at the thought of this child? What if—”

  “There are many dreams and years of peace that have died at the doubt in ‘what ifs.’” Fanny gave Catherine’s hand a squeeze and then stood. “If David doesn’t mind your past, then perhaps it’s time for you to let it go too.”

  Impossible. She pressed her eyes closed, releasing a new rain of tears. Wasn’t it? God, it can’t be that easy.

  “And I ought to mention,” Fanny said as she opened the bedroom door to leave. “We received a letter at the house today informing us that Miss Adelaide Moore will arrive tomorrow to offer her kind services to our hospital.” Fanny’s lips quirked along with her annoying brow. “If you’re bound to relieve David’s suffering in his affections for you, then perhaps you can give him over to the woman his aunt wishes him to marry. After all, it would make Maureen Cavanaugh happy indeed.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Somehow, Catherine Dougall inspired a vast mixture of feelings, starting with frustration and ending somewhere around fascination. The gamut produced in one glance nearly distracted David from completing his thoughts, though the glances were few since last night’s near kiss.

  He felt unsteady, like there was unfinished business between her lips and his. The idea nearly drove him to march across the crowded hospital and abate his curiosity. And then there was the absolute certainty stamped in his mind from comforting her in his arms. Why did she run? Protecting him? He released an irritated puff of air through his nose and watched her exchange a smile with Christopher as she assisted him with his rounds.

  David’s mind set with purpose. He’d never pursued a woman in his life, but that was about to change.

  “David.” His sister’s voice brought his attention round. A young woman stood at her side, walnut-colored hair tied back beneath her small dome-style blue hat, a hue which brought out the periwinkle of her eyes. “You remember Adelaide Moore?”

  David had no recollection of the petite and pale-featured woman before him, but he took her hand and bowed his head over it ceremoniously. “Miss Moore. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Her smile bloomed along with a blush to her cheeks, her interest as obvious as the hat on her head. “Thank you, Dr. Ross. I’ve often recalled our meeting with fondness. You are quite an impressive horseman.”

  She saw him ride? That must have been months ago, in the spring. Was it at his aunt’s last dinner party? He’d tried to wipe those hideous parties from his memory as much as possible. The social repartee and ingenuity exhausted him. Give him one-on-one conversations, or books to discuss, or work to do, and then he thrived, but music and—he shuddered—dancing? No, he was his father’s son.

  “I understand you’ve come to offer your services to our wounded?” David swept a hand to the first hospital room. “These are our patients who have been in rehabilitation the longest. We hope to send half of them home or to the long-term hospital in London by the end of the week.”

  She gave a wide-eyed look to the room. “I hope I can be of some help.”

  “All assistance is appreciated.” David gestured for her to follow him down the hallway.

  “But you’ll only be expected to do simple tasks, since this is your first visit,” Jessica added, shooting David a warning look. “Take dictation for letters, engage in conversations with the wounded, or fetch small comforts.”

  “I don’t think I could manage much more than that.” Her voice held a frail quality, almost afraid. “I must admit, I’ve had little practice with sick people, so I do hope I won’t faint at my first trial.”

  David raised a brow to Jessica who rolled her eyes but quickly offered Miss Moore a manufactured smile. “We’ll be sure to keep you to less…challenging tasks.”

  David led Adelaide through another doorway for more advanced cases, noting exactly where Catherine was in the room. “This is our other ward of patients.”

  “You won’t be in this wing as much as the former,” Jessica added quickly. “These particular cases require more medical intervention than you’re prepared to give.”

  Miss Moore nodded, lifting her gloved hand to her nose. “Then perhaps we should return to the other ward.”

  David shot his sister another severe look. Did she truly believe he’d feel an attraction for this fragile flower? No doubt she was all the things his aunt thought good and right as far as social standards dictated, but his emotions felt as cold as an ice block.

  “Of course, but first I should introduce you to some of the staff.” He made a direct line for Catherine, his grin twitching. Perhaps Adelaide’s presence would spark Catherine’s jealousy as Christopher’s had his?

  Catherine knelt near Lt. Davenport. She wore her usual pale blue gown, white apron, and white cap that barely contained her mass of hair.

  “Must all volunteers wear such…unseemly frocks?” Adelaide grimaced. “They’re cotton.”

  “Cotton washes easier than most other fabrics.” Jessica intervened. “And they’re durable. There are none of us in a fashion show here, Miss Moore.”

  David almost laughed. He could already tell Jessica regretted this decision which gave him all the more pleasure. “What would you suggest, Miss Moore?”

  Jessica shot him a heated look which he countered with an expression of mock innocence.

  “Well, they aren’t very flattering, are they? More like servants’ gowns than something as prestigious as a nurse.”

  “And a servant’s gown will not do for our nurses,” David stated with a little dramatic emphasis added to nudge his sister’s annoyance deeper.

  “Of course not. My mother has always made it quite clear that there are those who have, and those who have not. We must be attuned to the difference and distinguish ourselves.”

  “Your mother sounds like a true product of our times.”

  Miss Moore seemed oblivious to Jessica’s sarcasm.

  “Truly, she has set the standard of a modern lady quite high for me, but I strive to attain it.”

  David resigned himself to the notion of having Miss Moore with him for at least the morning. He doubted she’d last until noon, but if she held to her mother’s convictions, she might persevere to tea time.

  He quickly approached Catherine and gestured toward her work. “This is Nurse Dougall, one of the head nurses of our hospital.”

  Catherine stood, keeping her hand on Lt. Davenport’s arm dressing to hold her place.

  “Nurse Dougall, this is Adelaide Moore. She’s come to volunteer.”

  “Welcome, Miss Moore.” Catherine’s astute gaze took in the woman and then flitted to David.

  His smile spread and her lips fought an obvious battle with a response. Oh, I will win her.

  “What is she doing?” Miss Moore asked, backing away from the Lieutenant’s bed.

  He gestured toward the man. “Lieutenant Davenport suffered an arm wound from the debris of an exploding shell, so Nurse Dougall is redressing the injury to decrease the possibility of infection.”

  Miss Moore gasped. “How dreadful. I wouldn’t be asked to do such work,
would I?”

  Catherine and Jessica exchanged a glance.

  Yes, his sister was receiving the just desserts of her little scheme. Miss Moore for him? His arm brushed against Catherine’s shoulder, and he looked down into her lovely face. No, his sights were set on a much more challenging fare.

  “Nurse Dougall.” Marianne nearly ran into the room, face as bright as electric lights. “I have a letter for you.” Her voice lilted. “And some news.”

  David had never seen a smile so broad. She looked to each face, nearly bouncing with a wave of uncontained energy.

  “For heaven’s sake, Marianne. What is it?” Catherine laughed. “You’re brimming.”

  “Overflowing is more like it.” Marianne held up a note. “We’ve only now received confirmation from…” She hesitated and focused a shared, secret smile on Catherine before continuing. “Our contact in town says that both the bazaar and ball have been scheduled and completely outfitted by local benefactors. The date is in three weeks.”

  “To what is she referring?” David watched Catherine, knowing exactly where the scheme had originated…but why? “A ball? What would any of us need with a ball?”

  Catherine cringed a little as she took in all the curious faces before her. Suddenly, everyone’s attention felt a little overindulgent. David, Jessica, Miss Moore, and even Dr. Christopher, leaned in to hear the tale. This was not exactly the way she’d intended on sharing her grand ideas. “There are also plans for a Bazaar,” she clarified. “Both to raise money for the hospital and orphanage. Until we receive more support from benefactors, this is one way to raise money. I’ve had several successful bazaars in North Carolina, and I thought—”

  David’s full laugh burst into her explanation. “Catherine Dougall, you are easily the most interesting person I have ever met.”

  “Interesting?” Clearly, the poor man was mad. “It’s because there is so much to reform you have no idea where to begin.”