by Bess McBride
Jeremiah suddenly realized what he had said, but Leigh, sharp as a tack, had heard him.
“You mean alone?”
Jeremiah kept his gaze on Harry’s face in order to avoid meeting Leigh’s eyes. “I am not certain why I said that. Harry must have been a happy man at one time. He was apparently married and had a child. One wonders what happened between him and his daughter...and wife, I suppose. I never heard that he was married.”
If he hoped to distract Leigh from his self-pitying comment, he failed.
“So you’re worried you’ll end up alone?” She repeated her question.
Jeremiah turned to look at her. She regarded him with curious eyes. He saw no sympathy in them, and he breathed easier.
He shrugged, an uncharacteristic gesture for him. “Yes, I suppose that I do. I never imagined that I would not have a family, children.” He stopped, unwilling to say more.
Leigh chewed on her lower lip, as if thinking before she spoke. “Well, you’re not an old man. There’s time.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, hoping to end the subject that he himself had raised.
“I never imagined that I wouldn’t have children either, that I would be a widow at my age.”
“I hear a note of camaraderie in your tone, as if you wish to share a mutual absence of family. I appreciate your efforts, but you have suffered great loss. My loss seems minimal in comparison.”
“By loss, do you mean Tanya?” she asked, color flooding her cheeks.
“Yes, I suppose that I must.”
She frowned. “Well, you lost your parents as well. I think we’ve both lost a lot over the past year. So yes, I do feel a sense of kinship with you in that regard. I hope you don’t mind.”
Jeremiah surprised himself...and Leigh...when he reached for her hand and covered it with his own. “I value the connection.” He swallowed to clear the husky note in his voice. “That is to say, your empathy. You seem to be a very empathetic person. It is not at all difficult to bond to you.”
Leigh blushed charmingly. Jeremiah had not meant his words in a romantic way, and he hoped that she did not misunderstand.
“I feel the same way about you,” she said.
Jeremiah released her hand, almost dropping it. He rose.
“Of course, I mean that in the most respectful way. As employer and employee, I think we will get on well together. Now, go get some rest. I will tend to Harry.”
Leigh blinked and rose slowly. She averted her face, and Jeremiah gritted his teeth, suspecting that he had hurt her feelings.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” she said, turning and leaving the room.
Jeremiah stared at the closed door, regretting his impulse to confide his feelings to her, then attempt to put distance between them. He did not enjoy his conflicted feelings, but he did not wish to fall in love again, especially not with a time traveler.
“You have a lot to learn about women, Doc,” a raspy voice said from the bed.
Jeremiah swung around to see Harry’s eyes open.
“Harry!” he said, placing his stethoscope against the old man’s chest. Crackles and rales continued, though Jeremiah thought they were less raucous than before. He hoped so.
“How do you feel?” Jeremiah asked.
“Terrible,” Harry said, though his lips curved into a toothless smile. He had long ago lost all his teeth.
“Terrible in what way, Harry?”
“Tired, can’t breathe.”
“Will you not consider the hospital? They might have more available to help you beat this pneumonia.”
“Nope, not going. I’m gonna die right here in Kaskade.”
“Not too soon. I see that you had some soup. Would you like some more?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll have Mrs. Jackson heat some up.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll just drink it cold. Like I said, I’m used to it.”
Jeremiah picked up the bowl and spoon to feed Harry, but the old man took the bowl from him.
“I don’t mind the young lady feeding me, but not you. She’s a darn sight prettier than you, Doc.”
“Yes, she is,” Jeremiah said with a smile. If only Harry knew about Leigh.
Jeremiah was pleased to see Harry finish the broth. He took the bowl from him and set it on the nightstand.
“The little gal seems taken with you, Doc. Are you going to marry this one?”
Jeremiah, on the point of rising, drew in a sharp breath. “Harry! I only just met her. She is new to Kaskade. Surely I told you that.”
“You did. I just want to make sure you don’t let this one get away. You don’t wanna end up like me.”
“What do you mean, end up like you?” Jeremiah asked, though he was sure he understood Harry’s reference.
“Old and alone, dumb for letting the best thing that ever happened to me get away.”
“What is that?”
“My wife. She was real sweet, Doc, a great gal, but I spent too much time down at the tavern, and she left me. I wish I could go back and change that.”
“I’m so sorry, Harry. Is she still alive? You haven’t mentioned her.”
“No, Nancy got word to me that my wife passed about five years ago. I didn’t go to her funeral. I was too ashamed. Hadn’t seen her or Nancy since she left.”
Jeremiah’s chest felt heavy. What a wasted life. He had not known that Harry was a drinker or that his wife had left him. The summation of his life sounded very sad.
“I don’t think I knew you drank, Harry. Do you still?”
“No, Doc. I gave it up the day I heard Mary Anne died.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Harry.”
“You’re going to help me, right, Doc?”
“Do you mean help you try to reconnect with your daughter and granddaughter? Yes, Mrs. Peters and I are going up to Orting tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Peters? Where’s her husband? I thought she had a look in her eyes for you.”
Jeremiah’s face heated. “That’s just nonsense, Harry. Mrs. Peters is a widow, but she does not have a ‘look in her eyes’ for me.”
Jeremiah looked toward the door, remembering Leigh leaving the room.
“Sure she does, Doc, but you can believe what you want. I just don’t want to see you old and alone like me.”
Jeremiah ignored the image of his future, and wanted to tell Harry that he wasn’t alone, that his great-granddaughter was watching over him, but he couldn’t.
“I am not afraid to be alone, Harry. But thank you.”
“So whatever happened to that other young lady? She was quite the looker. I thought you two were gonna get married, but then I heard she left?”
Jeremiah swallowed the knot in his throat. “We were going to get married, Harry, but she changed her mind and she left.”
“Oh, sorry, Doc. I didn’t know it was her idea. I thought you had backed away.”
“No, not me. I loved her very much,” he said simply. Leigh’s blue-and-white-flecked eyes popped into his mind. “At least I thought I did.”
“Well, now you got another chance. I just really like that young lady. Marry her if she’ll have you.”
Jeremiah rose. “That is enough of matchmaking, Harry. Let’s get you out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom.”
After finishing Harry’s ablutions, Jeremiah washed and shaved him, being careful to keep him warmly covered in a large towel.
“What are you fancying me up for, Doc?” Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
“Well, what if we are able to persuade your daughter and granddaughter to come visit you? You wish to be presentable, do you not?”
Harry’s laugh was much like a cackle. “Oh! That’s a good idea. Thanks, Doc.”
“Additionally, Harry, cleanliness is important for good health.”
“Where did they teach you that? In that fancy school in Seattle?”
“As a matter of fact, my father was a firm believer in an association between cl
eanliness and good health. But yes, Harry, I learned that in medical school as well.”
He finished combing Harry’s sparse hair and grabbed up his dressing robe to drape about the elderly man.
“Let’s take you back to your room and I’ll get a clean pair of pajamas for you.”
Jeremiah put his arm under Harry and largely carried him back to the bedroom. He lay him down on the bed, thinking that Leigh would be pleased to see her great-grandfather cleaned up. He certainly hoped so.
He fetched a pair of pajamas from his bureau and returned to help Harry into them.
“How about a cup of tea with lemon to warm you up? Would you like that, Harry?”
“Sure, Doc. Sounds good. You’re spoiling me.”
“Not at all. You’re my patient.”
Jeremiah turned for the door. Hand on the knob, he heard Harry speak.
“I can’t pay you, Doc. I haven’t got any money.”
For a moment, Jeremiah recalled that Tanya had told him of a system where the elderly received some financial and medical benefits starting in about three more decades. He wished such a thing were in place in his time.
He looked over his shoulder. “I know, Harry. Don’t worry about that, not one little bit. I can afford you.”
He grinned and left the room to fetch the tea. He passed Leigh’s room and paused at the door. Raising his hand to knock, he was startled when the door opened.
Leigh stood there, her hair down about her shoulders in an appealing way, but otherwise still dressed.
“What is it?” she asked in a tense voice. “Is it Harry?”
Jeremiah had no idea why he’d been on the verge of knocking, and he found himself without words.
Chapter Thirteen
Unable to sleep, Leigh had been resting on top of her bed, listening to the sounds in the house. She’d heard a door open nearby and peeped out into the hallway to see Jeremiah half carrying Harry down to the bathroom. She’d been worrying about Harry’s need to relieve himself, but hadn’t had the heart to awaken him.
Keyed up, she kept listening. Sometime later when footsteps stopped outside her bedroom, she jumped up and hurried to the door.
Jeremiah stood there, his hand raised as if he was on the verge of knocking. He looked tired, with a crease between his dark brows, lines on his forehead.
“What is it?” she asked in a tense voice. “Is it Harry?”
Jeremiah’s mouth opened and closed. Leigh leaned forward and looked down the hall. The bathroom door was open.
“I saw you take Harry to the bathroom. Is he all right, Jeremiah?”
Jeremiah opened his mouth again and took a breath. Leigh hopped from one foot to the other.
“What is it?”
“I...I...” he stammered. “Harry is fine. I was just on my way to the kitchen to fetch him some warm tea. I thought you would be sleeping.”
“Then why were you going to knock on my door? Oh! Do you want me to go watch him while you get the tea?” Leigh stepped forward, and Jeremiah jumped back...rather dramatically, she thought, as if he didn’t want to be touched.
“I wasn’t going to touch you,” she protested in embarrassment.
“What? No, of course not. I apologize. I was just trying to step out of your way.”
“So you want me to go down and sit with Harry?” she asked.
“No, not at all. I thought you would be resting.”
“I was. I just wasn’t sleeping. I’m a little keyed up tonight. What did you need? Do you want me to help you with the tea? I don’t know what time it is, but I’m sure Mrs. Jackson must be in bed by now.”
“Yes, I think she must be. No, I can make tea. Since you are awake, would you like some?”
Leigh nodded. “Yes, I would. I’ll come down with you.”
“Very well,” Jeremiah said, stepping back even farther.
Leigh decided to confront what she saw as an issue. “Jeremiah, you keep jumping back. I’m not going to touch you. You’ve handled my poor great-grandfather, so I know you’re not too worried about germs. I’m not going to make a pass at you.”
Jeremiah gasped, and Leigh was happy. His cheeks turned bright red, and he looked down at the red Oriental runner in the hallway, then over her head into the bedroom, then down the hall toward the stairs—anywhere but at her.
“Well, of course not. I thought nothing of the kind!”
Leigh smirked, then passed him and proceeded down the hallway, hoping she didn’t trip on her dress or some other ungraceful thing. She heard him following her and hoped that she looked poised, cool, confident, and not at all slightly infatuated with the handsome doctor.
They reached the kitchen to find Mrs. Jackson still awake and drying pots and pans.
“Oh, hello!” she said. “I’m just finishing up. Do you want anything?”
“I was just going to make some tea for Harry and take it up to him,” Jeremiah said. “We thought we would have a cup ourselves as well.”
“I have a kettle boiling,” she said. “I was going to take a cup up to my room.”
She bustled around setting up a silver tray with a ceramic teapot and cups. She handed the tray to Jeremiah and took off her apron before picking up a cup and saucer.
“Good night,” she said, sipping on her tea.
“Good night,” Jeremiah and Leigh echoed. Leigh followed Jeremiah from the kitchen and back up the stairs to Harry’s bedroom door. Before entering, Jeremiah paused.
“Would you rather take your tea to your room? You are supposed to be resting.”
“No, I’ll drink it in here. I can take over again if you need to sleep.”
Jeremiah shook his head, and Leigh tapped on the door and opened it. Harry, still awake, looked over at them.
“I see you took my advice, Doc,” he said with a smile.
“What advice was that, Harry?” Leigh asked, responding to his smile as she seated herself in one of the chairs by the bed.
“Nothing,” Jeremiah said quickly, setting the cups down on the nightstand. He set the tray down against the wall.
“Wasn’t nothing,” Harry said. “I told him to marry you.”
“What?” Leigh, in the act of handing Harry his tea, almost dropped the cup.
“Harry was teasing, Leigh,” Jeremiah said, still standing. He eyed Harry severely and shook his head.
“Nope, I wasn’t. But I can see that I’ve embarrassed the girl.”
“Harry,” Leigh said reprovingly. She avoided looking at Jeremiah.
Harry smirked and managed to drink by himself, though he seemed weak still, and his hands shook. He gulped some, and Leigh grabbed the cup and saucer to prevent the liquid from spilling. He looked at her.
“You’re new in town, gal. You seem familiar to me though. Where did you come from?”
“Orting,” Leigh replied, her heart skipping a beat. “Who knows? Maybe we’re related in some way.”
Jeremiah cleared his throat beside her.
“Are we?” he asked. “That’s where my wife was from, where my daughter and granddaughter live. No, wait! That would make you related to her side of the family, not mine. My folks were from Kaskade.”
He was so short of air that he gasped out his last words. Leigh looked up at Jeremiah with concern, and he met her eyes and shook his head.
“That’s enough chatting for tonight, Harry. Get some sleep now. I’m going to watch over you, and Mrs. Peters is going to get some sleep.”
Leigh picked up her tea and rose. “Good night again, Harry. Sleep well.”
He nodded but said nothing. She walked toward the door, and Jeremiah sprang to open it.
“Night,” she said, without looking up. Harry’s “teasing” still resonated.
“Good night again,” Jeremiah said.
The door closed behind her, and she returned to her room, set the tea down and went back out into the hallway to use the bathroom. Upon returning to her room, she extricated herself from the voluminous clothing, slipped
into Mrs. Jackson’s nightgown and climbed into bed. She turned down the lamp and settled back against the pillows, feeling not a little guilty that Jeremiah had taken the night duty of watching Harry.
The next thing Leigh knew, a tap on the door awakened her. A sliver of gray light filtered into the room, and she realized she had slept all night. She climbed out of bed and crossed the room to reach the door. Pulling it open, she saw Jeremiah, one hand leaning against the doorsill, as if he was exhausted. His collar and tie were gone, and he had rolled up his sleeves.
“Were you awake all night?” she asked in wonder.
“No, I fell asleep as soon as I settled down into the chair. I thought I should awaken you though, as Katherine will come soon, and we should leave. Orting is not far, but it is far enough. Tanya once told me that it was only twenty minutes by one of your cars and that Tacoma was less than an hour away. Of course, the trains are quite fast, but they do not run at all hours.”
Leigh keyed in on the reference to Tanya. Apparently, the twenty-first-century nurse and twentieth-century doctor had talked a great deal. Good for them. That saved Leigh the time to explain how things operated in the future. She pressed her lips together.
“So we’re going up by wagon? That should be fun.”
“By buggy, actually. I hope that will be fine for you. It only has two seats, so if we are able to convince Mrs. Johnson and her daughter to come visit Harry, we shall not be able to given them a ride.”
“I’m sure they can find their own way down. I look forward to seeing how things have changed on the way up to Orting.”
Jeremiah tilted his head in a way that reminded Leigh of a puppy dog.
“If one thinks about it, they will change.”
“That’s true. How about I look forward to seeing how things were historically on the way up to Orting?”
Jeremiah smiled. “I am going to make myself presentable. I hear Mrs. Jackson up and about, rattling in the kitchen, and I assume she is making breakfast. She will let Katherine in. Do you need to access the bathroom before I wash up?”
Leigh thought about the clothing she would have to pour herself into again.
“Yes, please! I’ll be quick.”
