He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the chair when Victoria entered the room. Her unexpected appearance startled him.
“I went upstairs looking for you,” she said. “I thought you were going to take a nap before supper.”
“I was, but I decided I could relax in here just as well. What time is it?”
She sat down in the chair opposite him. “Six o’clock. I told Mrs. Atwell to plan supper for seven. I thought to give you extra time to rest.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m feeling much better, my dear.” He didn’t confess it was the alcohol rather than sleep that had helped him to gain his state of relaxation. His wife wouldn’t approve.
“How are things in Rochester?” Victoria rang a small bell and, when a servant appeared, requested a pitcher of lemonade.
“Everything is as usual,” he said once the servant had disappeared. “Most of your friends are still summering abroad or at their summer cottages. At least that’s what their husbands tell me when I see them at the club.” He glanced outside. “I am glad most of the family has departed from the island. Now with the final disbursement of money given, I’ll be surprised to see any of them for some time. I trust it has been more restful for you, as well.”
She nodded. “There’s been little happening to speak of. Except for Fanny’s letter. But I imagine she mentioned she’d heard from Michael.”
Jonas perked to attention. “No, she didn’t say a word. What did he have to say for himself?”
The servant returned with the lemonade and glasses arranged on a tray. Victoria pointed to the small table across from her. She poured her husband a glass of the lemonade and handed it to him. “From his letter, it sounds as though he’s been extremely successful in his search for gold.”
Jonas snorted. “Well, one can’t necessarily believe he’s met with such good fortune. He may simply be hoping to keep her waiting by the fireside, so to speak.”
“Since he plans to leave the Yukon at the end of August, it would seem his letter must be truthful.”
“End of August?” Jonas sputtered and choked on the lemonade. Tears trickled down his cheeks, and he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket while Victoria clapped him on the back.
When he finally quit coughing and had caught his breath, Victoria returned to her chair. “Goodness, you gave me a fright. Was there a seed in the lemonade?”
He ignored the question. “Did you say Michael is returning the end of August?”
“Or early September. Fanny was hoping he would return even earlier, but it didn’t appear he could manage to depart any sooner. She’s already planning a wedding for mid-September.”
“We can’t permit her to marry him, Victoria. It just isn’t appropriate. The Atwells are nice enough people, but Michael wouldn’t fit in with our people.”
“I understand it could make for a difficult marriage, but Fanny is of legal age. If she wants to marry Michael, we can hardly stop her.” She poured herself a glass of lemonade. “I’ve done my best to steer her toward other young men, but Fanny tells me you’ve given your word, Jonas. The girl has her own fortune, and if Michael has met your requirements, I don’t see how you can possibly object. It simply wouldn’t be honorable.”
“Don’t you care if the girl becomes a social outcast?”
Victoria scoffed. “Our social community might treat her coldly for a season, but they would never banish Fanny for the long term. She is a Broadmoor and has inherited a third of her grandfather’s estate. And if Michael has made a fortune in the gold fields, his money will gain him acceptance in all the right social circles.” She took a sip of her lemonade. “Besides, some things are more important than social status and money. The Broadmoors have always recognized the importance of family.”
He stared at his wife, dumbfounded by her last remark. He’d never seen evidence that his relatives, except for his mother and father, cared one whit about family. Instead of encouragement, they provided gossip fodder for one another, each seeming to relish the other’s bad news rather than the good. In fact, they would likely be delighted if his investments failed.
25
Saturday, August 13, 1898
At the sight of the DaisyBee, Amanda hurried toward the dock. She kept to the path, her strides long and vigorous. For the past half hour, she’d been waiting for Clara Barton’s arrival. The older woman had accepted an invitation to join them for an afternoon on Broadmoor Island, and Amanda planned to use the time to her advantage. Mr. Atwell had departed some time ago. He planned to pick up a few supplies in Clayton, meet her uncle Quincy at the train station, and then stop at Pullman Island for Miss Barton.
Shading her eyes, she peered toward the boat. She could make out two men and one woman. Perhaps Paul had accompanied Uncle Quincy. Sophie would certainly be surprised, for Paul had told her cousin that he would be needed at the Home this weekend. Squinting into the sun, she decided the man wasn’t Paul, for the man beside Uncle Quincy was somewhat taller. Royal Pullman may have decided to accompany Miss Barton. Her spirits sagged at the thought, for if so, she wouldn’t get as much time with the woman as she’d hoped.
She hastened forward to greet Miss Barton, but when the second man turned toward her, she stopped in her tracks and stared, speechless. Blake! Who had invited him to the island?
Mr. Atwell assisted Miss Barton from the boat while Amanda wondered if Dr. Carstead had come to meet Miss Barton. With her thoughts skittering helter-skelter, Amanda forced herself to take stock of the situation. Miss Barton was her guest, and she didn’t want to make a poor impression. “I trust you had a pleasant boat ride, Miss Barton?”
“Lovely. Too bad it wasn’t longer. I told Mr. Atwell that he could take the long way around when he delivers me back to Castle Rest on Mr. Pullman’s island. I do enjoy the scenery along the river. Of course, it’s always more fun to see a new guest’s reaction to the islands.” She smiled at Blake. “Dr. Carstead is quite impressed with this little piece of heaven we call the Thousand Islands, aren’t you?”
“That I am, Miss Barton. And your enjoyable company has made it all the more appealing.” He smiled at Amanda. “You didn’t tell me Miss Barton was a frequent visitor to the islands.”
A surge of unbidden jealousy caught her by surprise. “I don’t believe we ever discussed the islands at all. However, I am surprised to see you here, Dr. Carstead. I didn’t realize my mother had invited you.”
“Dr. Carstead is my guest, Amanda,” her uncle replied. His terse tone served to remind her that the island wasn’t the sole property of her father. Uncle Quincy and Fanny shared ownership with her father in Broadmoor Island. “Since he so generously donates his time and energy to residents at the Home, I thought he might enjoy a weekend of relaxation here at the island. A small way of extending my personal thanks.”
Miss Barton opened her parasol. “I’m pleased you agreed to accept Quincy’s invitation. Time to rejuvenate body and soul is important to those working in the medical profession. The first time Royal Pullman invited me to come for a visit, I nearly refused. I’m thankful he insisted.” She chuckled. “Now I invite myself.”
Blake pointed toward the house. “It appears there’s a game of croquet already in progress.”
Amanda nodded. “Most any time of day, you can find someone willing to play lawn tennis or croquet. Shall we sit on the veranda and watch? Or perhaps you’d like to join in, Dr. Carstead? I’m certain they wouldn’t object to another player.” If he agreed, she would have the time alone with Miss Barton she had hoped for.
“It appears they’re already well into their game. I’ll join them later if they should decide to play again.”
Uncle Quincy bobbed his head. “Absolutely. Sit down and have a glass of lemonade, Blake. I’m sure you and Miss Barton have many things you’d like to discuss.”
Amanda considered advising her uncle that Miss Barton was her guest, but she knew such behavior would be unseemly. Instead, she inwardly seethed
when the doctor positioned himself between Miss Barton and her. Couldn’t he at least let her sit next to the woman?
Miss Barton accepted a glass of lemonade and settled back in her chair. “Dr. Carstead tells me you’ve been quite an asset in the operating room, Amanda.”
A smile played at her lips. “He did?” She glanced in his direction, surprised by the revelation.
Blake grunted. “Don’t let a few words of praise go to your head. You still have much to learn.”
“But you did say she was more adept than some of the physicians you’d trained with, and that she doesn’t forget anything once she’s been taught.”
“He did?” Amanda repeated. She sat up straighter in her chair.
“Yes, but I also mentioned she needs a great deal more training,” he added.
Miss Barton tipped her head to one side. “Still, you had the highest of praise for—”
A scream erupted from the yard, and Amanda jumped to her feet. “It’s Sophie!” she shouted, racing toward the lawn.
Her cousin was doubled over in pain and was using her croquet mallet to help maintain her balance. Embracing Sophie around the shoulders, Amanda met her cousin’s wild-eyed stare.
“You are going to be fine, Sophie, but you must tell me what is wrong.”
“Terrible pain . . . in my stomach,” Sophie sputtered between tearful sobs. “Oh, I cannot bear it.”
“We need to get her inside,” Blake said. “I’m going to carry you into the house, Sophie. There’s no need to worry. Amanda and I are going to take care of you.”
The doctor’s words seemed to soothe her, but then Amanda’s mother arrived from across the lawn and asked, “What’s wrong?
Is she going to lose the baby?”
Sophie twisted in Dr. Carstead’s arms. “Is that what’s happening to me?” she wailed. The frantic look reappeared.
“Mother!” Amanda pulled her mother aside. “We are trying to calm her. Please guard your words.” Without waiting for her mother’s reply, Amanda hurried after Dr. Carstead, Miss Barton close on her heels.
“Complete bed rest for a minimum of two weeks,” Blake instructed after Sophie’s examination had been completed.
“Two weeks? How can I possibly remain in bed with nothing to do for two weeks?” Sophie moaned.
Miss Barton wagged her finger. “No complaining, young lady. I completely concur with the doctor. If you want a healthy baby, you’ll do as he’s instructed.” She tipped her head close to Amanda’s ear. “We can count upon you to make certain she follows the doctor’s orders, can we not?”
“Yes. I’ll keep her in that bed if I have to stand guard over her. Or I’ll find some ropes down at the boathouse and tie her in.” Amanda smiled at her cousin.
A light tapping sounded at the door. Amanda hurried across the room and opened the door a mere slit. She glanced at Sophie and then at Blake. “Sophie’s father would like to see her.”
“Oh yes. Do let him come in.” Sophie pushed her palms against the mattress and attempted to inch herself into a sitting position.
Dr. Carstead shook his head. “Your father may come in for a brief visit, but no sitting up yet. After your visit, I want you to rest. Understand?”
Sophie didn’t appear totally convinced, but the doctor waited until he’d received an affirmative reply before permitting her father into the room. Blake then repeated the instructions to Uncle Quincy and bid Amanda to remain until the visit was complete.
“I’ll make certain she’s well settled and resting before I leave,” Amanda promised as she escorted Dr. Carstead and Miss Barton to the doorway.
Amanda stayed at a distance, observing Sophie with Uncle Quincy. Sophie had mentioned a conversation she’d had with her father after Wesley’s hasty departure, yet the obvious affection that had developed between the two of them caught her by surprise. When Uncle Quincy enveloped Sophie in an embrace, he appeared genuinely concerned.
He brushed a lock of damp hair from Sophie’s forehead. “I’m going to send a telegram to Paul. He can be here by tomorrow morning.”
“That’s not necessary. He’s needed at the Home, and you’re here. It’s not as though I don’t have family to look after me. Besides, Dr. Carstead says I’ll be fine with two weeks of bed rest. There’s no reason for Paul to come right away. He’s supposed to arrive next Friday.”
Her father frowned. “You know how much he loves you, Sophie. I doubt he would forgive me if I didn’t send word to him.”
“Then you may send him a telegram, but tell him I’m fine.” She grabbed his hand. “And tell him if he feels he must come, Monday will be soon enough, that I know he’s needed at the Home. Tell him I am well cared for and there’s—”
“I’m sending a telegram, not a letter,” he said with a chuckle. “I know Paul had special church services planned for Sunday at the Home, so I will tell him you want him to wait to come until Monday.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to come, but if he wants to come . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Perhaps I should figure out what to say and write it down for you.” She waved to Amanda. “Would you locate a pen and paper for me?”
“No. You need to rest. Your father is quite capable of choosing the proper words to advise your husband.”
Uncle Quincy grinned. “Thank you for your confidence, Amanda. Now if you two will excuse me, I’m off to send that telegram.” He glanced at his daughter then turned to Amanda. “I hope you have better luck getting her to obey than I did.”
Amanda laughed. “I have ways of dealing with patients. I’ve learned a great deal from Dr. Carstead. Sophie wouldn’t dare give me any trouble. Would you, Sophie, dear?”
Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It seems the odds are already against me. I suppose I have no say in the matter whatsoever.”
Amanda heard someone crying and knew that the only person it could be was Fanny. She opened the bedroom door without knocking and called to her cousin. “Fanny? May I come in?”
Fanny sat in shadows by the open window. She sniffed back tears. “Yes, of course.”
“What’s wrong? I heard you sobbing.” Amanda came to where Fanny sat and pulled up a chair to join her.
“It’s Sophie. I’m so worried about her. I couldn’t bear to lose another member of my family.”
“What are you talking about? She just needs bed rest—that’s all.”
Fanny met Amanda’s look of puzzlement. “She could die. My mother did.”
Amanda began to understand Fanny’s worry. “Oh, Fanny. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about how that might cause you fear.” She scooted her chair closer and put her arm around Fanny’s shoulder. “Sophie is strong. I remember hearing that your mother was quite small and not at all hardy in her constitution. You know Sophie— she could run circles around us and not even perspire.”
“But childbirth is so hard on women. Many women die for seemingly no reason,” Fanny protested. “And now Sophie is suffering pain and has to remain in bed.”
“Only for a short time. She’ll be fine. She just got too excited and overdid things. We need to be strong for her, Fanny. We’ll need to sit with her and keep her entertained; otherwise you know how things will be. She’ll want out of bed and argue with us about how bored she is.”
Fanny wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “I want to be strong and helpful to her. I’m sorry for my tears. I suppose sometimes old fears creep in to stir up worry.”
“It’s all right. Together we will be strong for Sophie, and for each other.” Amanda smiled. “Agreed?”
Fanny nodded. “Agreed.”
Sophie rolled to her left side and forced her eyes open. Her gaze settled upon a pair of navy blue pants. She rolled to her back, now fully awake. Paul sat beside her bed and smiled down at her.
“Good morning,” he said. He softly touched her cheek.
“When did you arrive? I told Father you didn’t need to come.” Sophie blinked away the cobwebs interfering with her th
oughts. She’d lost all sense of time. “What day is it?”
“It’s Monday morning. I arrived on the early train, and Captain Visegar offered me a ride on the New Island Wanderer. Mr. Atwell didn’t know when I’d be arriving, so I accepted the captain’s offer. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling quite well. The pains have subsided, and I am weary of lying in this bed. But Amanda will brook no nonsense. Those are her words, not mine,” Sophie said with a faint smile.
“I’m pleased to hear that she’s making you follow the doctor’s orders. I spoke with Dr. Carstead last evening after he and your father returned to Rochester.”
She detected a hint of concern in Paul’s voice and wondered if Dr. Carstead had been completely frank with her. Surely he wouldn’t have given her false hope for the baby. “He said we would both be fine, didn’t he?” Paul wouldn’t lie to her. He was, after all, a man of God. If he affirmed the doctor’s report to her, she’d rest easy.
“If you follow his orders, he believes everything will be fine. He said it isn’t unusual to have difficulties such as you’ve experienced. He thinks you simply overdid things.”
She sighed and settled back against her pillows, thankful to have someone regale her with stories of the happenings in Rochester. In fact, she was even pleased to hear about Paul’s work at the Home, the special Sunday services, and his lengthy report on progress at the new addition—anything to help pass the time. When the maid arrived to tidy the room, Paul requested his meals be delivered to the room.
“You will soon be as bored as I am,” she said. “If only I enjoyed reading. I believe Amanda or Fanny would be content with a stack of books at their side.” She wrinkled her nose.
Paul jumped to his feet. “I’m going to move your bed so that you have a view of the river and a portion of the lawn. At least you will have something to see other than the walls of this room.” He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work. Bending forward, he lifted one end of the bed and grunted.
An Unexpected Love Page 29
