Rhyme or Reason

by Amelia C. Adams

  Louisa rubbed her forehead. “Is this dangerous?”

  “We have some reported cases of diabetics dying, yes. But we aren’t sure what causes them to die.” He exhaled. “It’s complicated because we know so very little. I have one friend who has spent most of his professional career trying to work this out, and he sent me a letter last year telling me that they’ve discovered a link between the pancreas and diabetes. That’s the last update he’s sent me.”

  Louisa closed her eyes. “So, you’re saying that I have the symptoms of a disease you know very little about, but you’re not sure if I have it, and you can’t guarantee that I don’t.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, yes. I’m sorry, Miss Brown. I know that’s extremely frustrating, and believe me, I wish I had answers for you. I’ll send a telegram to my friend in the morning and see if he’s learned anything else.”

  “Thank you.” She sifted through the things he’d said, trying to make sense of them. “So, I should eat regularly and not allow myself to get hungry. I should eat less sugar, and I should eat more meat and eggs?”

  “Give that a try and see how you feel. If those things improve your health, we can be reasonably sure that you have diabetes.”

  “And if I have it . . . maybe I’ll die and maybe I won’t? This is an awfully vague disease, Doctor.”

  He chuckled. “You’re right, it is. I’d say that except for modifying your diet, you should continue to live as you always have. There’s no reason to alter your activities.”

  “What about changing my plans for the future? Tobias and I just became engaged.”

  “You did? Well, congratulations.” The doctor grinned. “I can’t see why you’d change that plan now. Miss Brown, life is meant to be lived. Get married. Be happy. And as the scientists are able to learn more, we’ll be able to implement that into your care. For now, we’ll manage your symptoms as best as we can.” He held out his hand. “Are you able to sit up?”

  She grasped his hand, and he helped her up. “A little dizzy still?”

  “A bit.”

  “My wife has made you some soup. Come out to the table and eat.”

  She was about to protest that she didn’t want to put him out, but she realized that eating was a key part of her treatment, and it was badly needed. “This is your home?”

  “Yes. We go where we’re needed, but we’re also set up to see patients here.”

  She exited the exam room holding on to the doctor’s arm. Tobias came to his feet from where he’d been sitting near the window. “Are you all right?”

  “Well, it isn’t leprosy, so that’s good news,” she told him. “The doctor thinks I have diabetes.” She moved toward the table and sat down, not realizing for a moment that Tobias had frozen in place. “What’s the matter?”

  “Diabetes?” His gaze flicked over to the doctor. “Are you sure?”

  “There’s not a way to be sure,” Dr. Thomas replied. “We’ll manage her symptoms and see if she begins to feel better.”

  Tobias sat back down with a thump, his face paler than Louisa had ever seen it. “I’ve read some articles,” he said. “This . . . this isn’t good.”

  A woman came into the room carrying a tray. “I understand soup’s the order of the day.” She placed a bowl on the table in front of Louisa. “Tobias? Come eat.”

  “No, thank you, Nora.”

  She gave him a stern look. “You’ll do no one any good if you don’t care of yourself. Now come over here and sit.”

  He stood and joined Louisa at the table. “Nora has several children. This sort of bossiness comes naturally to her.”

  “And it’s a good thing, too.” Nora set his bowl in front of him. “There’s plenty more when you’re finished with that.”

  The soup was rich, filled with barley, carrots, and potatoes. The broth was made of beef and thyme, and Louisa could have inhaled it all with one bite. Instead, she decided to be polite and eat like a lady and not a starving timber wolf. Nora refilled her bowl as soon as she’d emptied it.

  “Where are you staying, Miss Brown? Do you have an icebox?” the doctor asked.

  “I don’t. I’m renting out a room at Mrs. Handy’s.”

  “It would be good for you to live in a place with an icebox. You need to have access to food on a regular basis, and that means at home as well as from restaurants.”

  “I have an icebox,” Tobias said. He turned to look at Louisa. “I have an icebox and a stove. I have dishes, and I even have utensils. I’m surprisingly domestic, considering that I know so very little about it. Marry me now, Louisa. Marry me as soon as we can possibly arrange it. Let my icebox be your icebox.”

  “That’s likely the strangest proposal I’ve ever heard, but also the sweetest,” Nora said, wiping her eyes. “Marry me and let me share my kitchen with you. Why don’t romance novelists think of these things?”

  “Because no one’s as romantic as Tobias,” Louisa replied. She reached out and took his hand. “I know I said I wanted to marry you quickly, but isn’t this a little too fast?”

  He shook his head. “If you knew from the first minute that you wanted to marry me, it’s definitely not too fast. Louisa, I wanted to be by your side before we got this diagnosis. Your illness hasn’t changed a thing for me—I still want to be by your side. Now we’re just adding a medical aspect to it that we weren’t expecting, and we’re going to get through it together.”

  She looked down at their hands, how their fingers were interlocked until they looked like one unit and not two separate beings. “Yes, Tobias. I will marry your icebox—er, you—as soon as we can get it worked out.”

  Tobias grinned. “Willie?”

  Louisa looked around, confused, until a teenage boy entered the room. “Yes, Mr. Redfern?”

  “Could you please go fetch someone who’s good at marrying people?”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  “Reverend Bing, Reverend Theodore, a judge—you choose.”

  The boy took off through the front door before Louisa could even ask what was going on.

  “My icebox is so excited to marry you,” Tobias said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’m probably all right with it too.”

  “I’m glad,” she replied. “It would be terrible if you and the icebox were in disagreement.”

  “It’s the worst thing ever. Hopefully you never have to experience such a horror in your life.”

  “I trust that you’re going to protect me from things like that.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I will protect you from absolutely everything I can, and when I can’t protect you, I’ll stand by your side and we’ll fight.”

  “Yes,” she said with fervor. “We’ll fight. Together.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The first marrying-type person Willie had encountered when he left the house was Reverend Bing, which made Tobias very happy. He didn’t care much for Reverend Theodore, and he didn’t know any of the judges. Reverend Bing, however, had been a good friend ever since Tobias first came to Creede, and he couldn’t think of a single person he’d want more to officiate at his wedding.

  The reverend had seemed amused, but not surprised, when he heard they wanted to marry immediately. Then his amusement turned to concern when he heard the reasons behind the rush.

  “Are you feeling all right, Miss Brown?” he asked.

  “I’m all right now, although I do feel a little wobbly still.”

  He nodded. “I’ll get everything arranged for a ceremony, but I do suggest that we wait until tomorrow to hold it. I’d like to see you get a good night’s sleep with plenty of rest first.”

  Tobias thought that sounded perfectly reasonable, although now that the decision had been made, he’d rather hoped to leap in immediately. “I’ll do a little tidying up and get my house ready for a wife.”

  “Why, Tobias. I never pictured you for a slob,” Louisa said.

  “I’m not a slob. I’m just . . . ill prepared for spontaneous wedd
ings. But note that I’m eager nonetheless.”

  Reverend Bing laughed. “Let me ride back to town with you and make sure Miss Brown is squared away, and then I’ll get busy with the other details. I have a strong suspicion that my wife and my sister will both want a hand in this—would you mind, Miss Brown, if they threw you a wedding?”

  “I’d appreciate the help,” Louisa replied.

  “All right, then. Let’s get you home. JT, Nora, thank you.” The reverend shook the doctor’s hand, then offered Louisa his arm as she stood.

  On their way back to Creede, the reverend in his carriage behind them, Tobias reached over and took Louisa’s hand. “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to marrying you. You’ve been the missing piece in my life—you will complete the fabric that makes me who I am.”

  “Are you sure that my illness isn’t going to be a problem? I don’t want you to feel obligated or burdened—”

  “Now, let’s get one thing straight, missy.” He looked at her as directly as he could while still driving the carriage. “You’re all I can think about night and day. My insides feel like they’re on fire when I’m near you, and like the coldest night when we’re apart. Does that sound like marrying you is going to be a burden?”

  “No, but all that fire does sound painful.”

  “Oh, it’s not painful. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “This illness isn’t going to become who we are. It’s something we’ll face together, but it won’t overshadow this relationship we’re building. I promise you that.”

  She scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. “I like hearing that.”

  “Then I’ll say it again. We’re going to do this together. You’ll never have to face one second of it alone.”

  ***

  Millie McRae bustled into Louisa’s room, a blanket-wrapped bundle draped over her arm and a pretty blonde woman following behind. “Louisa, this is my brother’s wife, Celeste. We’ve come to show you a dress.”

  Louisa stood up from her desk and blinked. “Already? But we only met with Reverend Bing last night.”

  Millie laughed. “When it comes to weddings, we have our ways. My sisters-in-law are hard at work making the refreshments—we thought a white wedding cake, and then ginger pear tarts. Do you like that idea? And we’ll hold the reception at Hearth and Home, since we have tablecloths and decorations all ready to go for events.”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Louisa found herself suddenly teary. “I can’t believe everything you’re doing for me.”

  “Well, thank you for letting us,” Celeste said. “Millie isn’t joking when she says we love weddings. This is like Christmas for us.”

  Millie unwrapped the bundle she held. “This was my wedding dress, and if it doesn’t fit, we can borrow one from someone else. I have dozens of friends who would be eager to help.”

  Louisa stepped out of her dress and into the one Millie held for her. The fabric settled over her shoulders like a soft cloud.

  “Oh, it’s lovely,” Celeste said. “You look like an angel.”

  Louisa turned to the mirror. “I don’t even know what to say,” she said after a long moment. “I’ve never imagined what I wanted my wedding dress to look like, but if I did, it would be this.”

  “We’ll want to take in the sides a bit, but it fits in every other way,” Millie said, her eyes shining. “Oh, Louisa, I’m so happy for you. And for Tobias. He’s such a good man—I can’t help but feel his goodness whenever I speak to him.”

  “I thought the same thing from the first moment I met him,” Louisa replied. “His quality of character is nearly visible on his face.”

  “I think I’m going to cry,” Celeste said, and they all laughed.

  Millie wrapped the dress back up after Louisa changed. “I’ll get this altered right away,” she said. “We’ve planned the wedding for six o’clock tonight, if that’s all right with you.”

  “It’s more than all right. Thank you.” Louisa took a deep breath. “Can you believe it was just a week ago that I stepped off the train? A week, and look at all that’s happened. My entire life has been flipped upside down and around in a circle, and I’m breathless and in awe at the same time.”

  “A lot can happen in a week,” Celeste replied. “If my husband were here, he’d say that the Lord created the entire world in a week.”

  “But then he’d add that some scholars believe that means seven periods of time rather than seven actual days,” Millie said.

  “And then he’d stroke his chin and say that it doesn’t actually matter, and that the point is that we focus on the creation itself, and not specifically how long it took,” Celeste finished.

  Louisa laughed. “Does he know the two of you imitate him like this?”

  “Oh, I hope not,” Millie said. “I don’t think he’d be angry, but it would make it less fun if he knew.”

  Louisa was still chuckling as she opened the door for Millie, whose arms were too full to do it herself, and almost ran right into Mrs. Handy, who had just raised her hand to knock.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a man downstairs to see you, Miss Brown.”

  “What sort of man, Mrs. Handy? Is he dark and mysterious?” Louisa asked.

  Mrs. Handy seemed confused. “No, he’s just a regular man. Gave his name as Mr. Yancy.”

  Louisa suddenly couldn’t feel her toes. “Mr. Yancy?”

  “That’s right.”

  Millie turned and thrust the dress into Celeste’s arms. “Here. Take this over to Hearth and Home for me, would you? I’ll be along as soon as I can. I’m going to stay with Louisa for a bit.”

  “Of course.” Celeste took the bundle and scurried down the stairs.

  Millie put her hand on Louisa’s shoulder. “I don’t know who this man is, but I’ll be here the whole time,” she said, and Louisa nodded.

  When they entered the sitting room, Mr. Yancy stood to greet them. He was just as bald as Louisa remembered, with a white mustache and a small monocle that dangled from a gold chain.

  “Miss Brown,” he said, giving her a slight bow.

  “Mr. Yancy. This is my friend, Mrs. McRae.”

  He gave a nod in Millie’s direction as well.

  “I can’t imagine why you’ve come to see me, Mr. Yancy,” Louisa said after she’d motioned him back to his chair. She tried to get comfortable on the sofa, but it wasn’t a comfortable sofa, and she couldn’t pretend that it was.

  “Really? After the letter you sent? Surely you expected some sort of reply.”

  Heat flooded her face. “Yes, but I thought a letter would suffice. I also need to tell you, Mr. Yancy, that I never intended to mail that letter. It was a mistake.”

  “Do you often write scathing epistles that you don’t intend to send?”

  “Not often, but when I do, it helps me sort through my feelings. The letter I meant to send was worded somewhat more . . . politely.” She glanced over at Millie, so glad her friend had decided to stay. She needed her support.

  “I see.” Mr. Yancy cleared his throat. “Miss Brown, you asked why I was keeping track of your whereabouts, and that’s a fair question. I decided it would be best if I answered it in person, especially given your obvious state of hysteria when you wrote it.”

  She sat up a bit straighter. “Oh, I wasn’t hysterical, Mr. Yancy. I was angry. There’s a distinct difference. One implies that I’m an overly emotional female complaining about nothing, and the other implies that my rights have been trampled upon and I’m determined to fight for them.”

  He lifted a hand. “I chose the wrong word, and I’m sorry. You have every right to defend yourself when you feel you have been wronged. Perhaps when you hear what I have to say, you’ll feel less angry.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper, then handed it to her.

  She took it and unfolded it, holding it in such a way that Millie could see it too.

 
It is also my desire that upon her twenty-fifth birthday, my niece, Louisa Brown, should receive an inheritance of ten thousand dollars under the following conditions. First, she is not to know of its existence until that time. She is to believe that she is left penniless in the world from the time of my death. This will instill in her a proper work ethic and a sense of independence I believe is critical in the world today. Second, she must have demonstrated that she has successfully learned that proper work ethic and independence.

  Louisa looked up at Mr. Yancy. “My aunt left me money after all?”

  “Yes, she did, and I’ve kept note of your whereabouts so that when your birthday is reached, I will know where to deliver it.”

  “But according to this, I’m not supposed to know about it until my birthday. Haven’t you just violated the terms of the will?”

  “As the executor, I can be flexible.”

  Louisa looked down at the page again, but the letters swam before her eyes, and she blinked to keep from crying. “I honestly don’t know what to say. Yes, I understand the importance of hard work and learning to find one’s place in the world, but this was done in the unkindest way possible. Mr. Yancy, I was thrown out of my home. I was treated like refuse. Why was that a necessary part of my education?”

  “For that, I’m truly sorry, Miss Brown. There were a few things about the situation that were out of my control.”

  “But as the executor, don’t you have some flexibility?” She threw his words back at him. “I wouldn’t have expected you to do anything that went against your code of conduct as an attorney, but I would hope that the milk of human kindness would have influenced your behavior just a little bit.” She rose. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Yancy, I’m preparing for a wedding just now—my own. When my birthday rolls around, you may find me in care of the bookstore. I’ll use my inheritance to do something kind and good and noble. That’s the best sort of legacy I can build to my aunt—taking her money and using it to defy every selfish thing she stood for.”