The Secret Touch of Mary Kincaid

by Sarah Jae Foster

  He consented.

  “Do you attend church?”

  “I travel a lot.” At her questioning look, he realized the answer would not suffice and was more definite. “I do not, no.”

  “When I lay hands on folks to massage away their aches and pains, I do so while praying for them. It’s a silent prayer of course but that is what I do. I wanted to make sure you understood that it wasn’t only a physician’s kind of treatment, it’s a ministry.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand that. But I don’t see how that would preclude me from staying on here a while, or you beginning a clinic elsewhere.” He leaned forward and clasped her hand. “I know it’s been a few short days, Mary, but I want to know you more.”

  In her heart she knew there would be no partnering with someone who did not understand how important her faith was. She could not lead him to believe anything different.

  “Elias, I’ve been so grateful for your friendship. You will never know how much life you brought to this house during your stay, but I cannot ask anything of you. Please understand.”

  He removed his hand, graciously enough. “Is there someone else?”

  “No!” She was quick to answer. “I mean, no, not at all.”

  Yet all of a sudden she felt a twinge of guilt. Lying was not what she believed she did, it was more of an afterthought. But with the awaiting gift upstairs from Seth…well she couldn’t deny the spark of joy his note brought or the fact that all she wanted to do in that moment was read it again.

  “Very well, Mary. I have enjoyed your company and if you should ever change your mind, you may leave word at the telegraph office in Cheyenne, they’ll know where to find me.”

  ***

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two weeks later another leather-bound book arrived with a heartwarming note. Her one pleasure throughout winter had been reading by the fire, particularly the book of adventure Seth had initially sent—did he realize the blessing that had been? And now another so soon? Mary was ecstatic. When Mrs. Hines handed it to her, she did not receive the usual look of disdain, and Mary would have barely noticed her expression for being caught up in her new gift. But on her way up the carpeted staircase, she realized that Mrs. Hines had a look of pain cross her face and she’d favored her right arm as she passed her the package. Halting momentarily, she contemplated returning to her or leaving her be, as she assumed she would wish. Finally deciding any inquisition would not be welcome, Mary went to her room.

  Dear Mary,

  I want to inquire about your well being and to send you another book I ran across—The Practices of Ancient Massage. Admittedly, the first book I sent was a peace offering, one that I hope you accepted. When I saw the topic of this book, I could not resist indulging myself in its contents. Mary, if you have the gift to be able to alleviate the pain people acquire, then I sincerely desire to support you. Not that I presume any support from me would cause a care upon yourself, but I still needed to let you know that.

  Again, please accept this book. I couldn’t resist.

  Your friend,

  Seth

  Mary had no words. She flipped the book back and forth, from cover to cover, tracing the embossed title and coveting what was in between. Liang had shown her how and where to be effective in delivering rest to people’s muscles, but she’d never seen pictures or read about the practice. Seth was inching his way into her heart—with well-spoken words and books! But he’d signed the note as her friend and she would receive that much, wholeheartedly.

  During the supper hour, there was no escaping notice that Mrs. Hines had injured herself. Looking around the table, the guests clustered together familiarly, not paying heed to the hostess of the home. To the one who provided their warmth and hearty food for their bellies. Unable to help herself, Mary followed her into the kitchen, unnoticed by the others.

  “Mrs. Hines?” Mary tapped on the door and opened it without a welcome to, catching the woman in the midst of dropping a bowl of dried apples.

  She swooped in and began to clear up the mess. Mrs. Hines seemed speechless and shocked beyond measure. Unfortunately, she gained her words quick enough.

  “What are you doing in here, Mary?”

  Mary knew it was her pride that had been hurt. “I know you injured yourself, and I came in to help.” She looked up from the mess on the floor. “No one saw me, I made sure.”

  “I can pick this up myself. It’s not up to you to interfere in the kitchen.”

  Mary scooped up the last few apples and dropped them into the bowl. Standing, she set them on the table. “I have no desire to interfere in your kitchen, but I can help you—it’s your shoulder, yes?”

  Mrs. Hines frowned at her. It was confirmation enough. “I’ll allow you to get through dinner…” With a hint of humor she added, “Though I’ll refrain from eating anything apple you serve for dessert. I will return later to fix that arm of yours. No reason to go on in pain, Mrs. Hines, no matter how much you dislike me.”

  “Allow me to get through…! You’ll return later…! Why you are quite brazen.”

  Mary’s hand rested on the door, and pulling up a shield of grace to disarm the anger radiating toward her, she looked back. “So I’ve been told. I will see you shortly, Mrs. Hines.”

  *****

  Later, as promised, Mary slipped past the parlor, where Henrietta and Trudy were reclining and drinking tea. In the very spot she had shared with Elias, where the dream to begin her own practice had been planted by him. She snuck into the kitchen and this time did not startle Mrs. Hines, though she did seem to be terrified at what was to come.

  The woman was sitting at the servants’ table, staring at the entrance. With a teasing smile, Mary said, “You’re expecting me this time.”

  “I don’t know why you’d attempt to make me feel better. Anyway, I can’t allow it!”

  “Why on earth not? You’d rather be miserable?”

  The look she received was one of contemplation. She would not give in so easily. Mary was stubborn too, and it was pure silliness to endure pain from a sore shoulder. “I believe you pulled a muscle or tendon,” she said, using terminology she’d just learned from a chapter in the book from Seth—she did sound quite official and medicinal.

  She received an upsetting frown in response. “Is that…dangerous?”

  So now she was piqued. Moving closer to Mrs. Hines, who no longer looked ready to bolt, Mary answered, “Not necessarily. Now, please allow me to manipulate your shoulder back to its natural state.”

  “What all do you propose to do?”

  “Nothing until you sit back and try to relax. I’m going to place my hand here, and the other here.” She positioned herself. “See, that is not too terrible. This may be uncomfortable at first, but soon you will feel better, I promise.”

  As she knew would happen, the woman was as tense as a mouse expecting to be the meal of a hungry cat. She distracted her. “How did this happen?”

  She grunted as if disgusted with herself. “I knew I shouldn’t have lifted it, but I had a crate of those darned apples, well, I…” she stopped as if remembering who she was speaking to. As if realizing that her dislike was no longer apparent.

  Mary wondered if she’d give in to their past relationship—she hoped not, as she was making headway and didn’t wish to have the walls come up again.

  Blessedly, Mrs. Hines continued, “I didn’t have a good handle on the crate and when it started to slip, I didn’t let go as I should have.” She actually made eye contact with Mary and said ruefully, “I didn’t want to waste no apples.”

  Mary smiled. “And so you injured your shoulder.”

  “Indeed I did. That was two days ago, and it hurts like I never could have thought. I am no spring chicken. My body creaks when I get out of bed in the morning!”

  And then it was silent and Mary worked and kneaded and rubbed. Feeling everything pull together into good order. Mrs. Hines let out a sigh of satisfaction when Mary announced s
he was finished. “I will need to do a follow up session tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Hines looked at her. Had she seen a fragment of regret? “You were kind to me, Mary, when you had no reason to be.”

  “It’s not up to me to choose who to be kind to…we’re all equal in God’s eyes.”

  “Well I am a pitiful excuse and I mean to make up for it.”

  Mary set herself to leave. “You already have. Thank you for allowing me to treat you. Have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  ***

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mary did not receive an invitation for Christmas dinner from Graham, which saddened her. She wondered if he was still miffed that she’d turned down his offer for a better living arrangement. Mrs. Hines was allowing her to help decorate the foyer with spiced scented garlands of dried fruit. The tension was gone from their relationship, and surprisingly enough, Mary did not mind being around the gruff woman.

  She inhaled the fragrance of cinnamon and cloves as she hung the garland in the frame of the window. The smell drew forth a memory from her childhood before Liang had rescued her from certain death of freezing and starvation. Although he hadn’t had much himself, a flat in the slums of New York with nothing more than a thin bed, a kettle and a few ragged blankets, he’d always told her that God had him seek her out, that she had a purpose and was special. He had given a filthy, untrusting girl his bed while he slept on a pathetic looking pallet on the bitter cold floor. But one Christmas morning, Liang had acquired two tin-cups of hot cider and woke her up by bringing it beneath her nose. The scent was warm and inviting, something she had never before come across. They’d bundled up and went outdoors to the public fire, where they celebrated Christmas over a pile of burning garbage.

  After making their way west, it had become tradition to drink hot cider. Her stomach clenched, knowing she would not have Liang with her for the first time.

  The window was fogging up from her breath but through it she saw the shape of a large carriage, black as night, pull in front of the boardinghouse. With her sleeve, she scrubbed the fog away. Her heart did a flip when she saw two Hatchett men emerge and head toward the front door. Mrs. Hines came up behind her and smoothed out her apron. “Why didn’t you tell me to expect guests?” she scolded.

  Mary rushed up the stairs to check her own appearance. “I had no idea!”

  In her room she quickly pinched her cheeks and ran jittery fingers through long strands of her hair—desperate to calm the curls. Surely they’d meant to spend Christmas with her! And she had nothing for them. She was being called down the stairs by Mrs. Hines, leaving no time to attend to her simple attire. “I’m coming!” she hollered, sure to gain disapproval for her unladylike response.

  Graham stepped forward to greet her. “You’re coming to the ranch for the holidays.” He pecked her cheek in his fatherly way. “Now go pack your carpet bag, and we’ll wait here.”

  The spark of pride at being told what to do lit up in her spine. Seth…sweet Seth seemed to quickly discern it and amended, “He means to request your presence at the ranch. Would you like to spend Christmas with us, Mary?”

  Graham emitted something of a grunting sound while she admired Seth’s empathy and respect. Had he changed so much since their last encounter, or had she? Either way, joy overcame her as she took him in. “I would love to.”

  “I have coffee ready if you gentlemen would like to wait in the parlor as Mary readies herself.” Mrs. Hines tossed her a glance. Did she look pleased at the turn of events for the holidays? Mary believed so. Sending Mary off to the Hatchetts would look good in her favor.

  *****

  Seth had not been able to stop thinking of Mary since he left her with his dreadful appeal to stop the practice of massage. She seemed to accost his thoughts morning and night and compassion stirred within him. It had begun as compassion, but when he received a letter of gratitude for the books he’d sent, his feelings turned into something bigger, a deep desire to know everything about Mary Kincaid.

  He felt his uncle’s eyes on him as he watched her disappear up the winding staircase. Clearing his throat, he answered Mrs. Hines. “Yes, thank you. We’ll be in the parlor.”

  “Well I had no idea on you two. What did I miss?” Graham asked, removing his hat and placing it upon his knee, eyes twinkling in a teasing manner.

  Seth looked at him. “I don’t know. Honestly, I didn’t realize…”

  His uncle sobered. “She has that affect on people, until they find out where her passion lies.”

  “It doesn’t bother me anymore. Uncle, I believe I would like to court Mary.”

  Mrs. Hines arrived with a silver tray of coffee items. The way she halted at the door made it clear to Seth that she’d heard. He waited until she served them before continuing. “It’s why I came for the holidays, apologies for the earlier pretense.”

  “As opposed to you wanting to spend time with me? Huh! I already knew that was the case, do you think me a fool?”

  “Of course not. But I had to make sure, and then I saw her…”

  “No need to go on. Let’s just drink our coffee and be done on the subject.” Graham eyed him hard in warning. “Though I’ll have my eye on the both of you, you can be sure of that!”

  Seth chuckled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  ***

  Chapter Fifteen

  The symbol of a large H with a T centered below it came into focus along an arch between fencing that went as far as the eye could see. Soon after came the Hatchett ranch into view just as snowflakes began to litter the ground. A flake fell lightly upon her cheek as she turned toward Graham’s words.

  “We were lucky, Mary. I was afraid the snow would come swiftly again and we’d not be able to come for ya.” He pulled the team into the generous sized barn and halted them before the stable boy. “Now,” he said, “we need to make sure to get you home before another storm comes along.”

  “Already trying to be rid of me?” she teased.

  “Hmph!” was all he said before climbing down, leaving Seth to assist her.

  Seth had been quiet most of the way home, with barely one-word answers to contribute to the conversation. She wondered after all if she’d misread him at the boardinghouse. Would he rather not have her there celebrating Christmas with his uncle? Readying herself to ease down the side of the carriage, her thought had to be dismissed. He was there, hands raised upwards to bring her down and he appeared…shy. It was true that she’d lived a very sheltered life, but she did not miss what was in his eyes. He was interested in her. To what capacity she was unsure, but it was there—interest. Smiling down upon him, she allowed his assistance, and was somewhat at a loss for words other than a softly spoken, “thank you, Seth.” Had she turned shy herself? No, that was impossible.

  *****

  Once inside, she took in every elaborate detail of Christmas. The pine tree she knew to have hailed from a train in Montana and boasting the height of three of her, stood stoically in the corner of the vast room. The servants had every table and nook adorned with treats, holly wreaths and berries.

  “May I show you to your room?”

  Mary focused on Tessa, the housemaid. “I know where to go.”

  She heard a throat clearing and turned to Seth, behind her. He stepped up and whispered, “She’s really not asking Mary, it’s her task.”

  Tessa, whom she’s known for years, appeared nervous to be disobeying. “Why this is ridiculous! I know my way around this place.”

  Seth picked up her carpetbag, undermining Mary’s desire to not be waited upon—such silliness, all of the sudden formality – and said, “Come along then. If you won’t allow Tessa to do her job, you’re stuck with me doing it.”

  Tessa sent her a very quick, nearly missed, satisfied smile. Well! She had not refused her help for Seth’s help, that was not her intention at all. Embarrassment stole up to her face, and she desperately hoped he did not think her capable of such parlor
games.

  “Here we are.” He opened the door and deposited the bag onto the settee beneath the window, she saw that the snowflakes had tripled in size and were coasting down beautifully.

  Catching her admiration, Seth stood next to her and they watched Mother Nature in silence. Moments later he said, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  *****

  Mary was as striking as he remembered her to be. Even more so. She lit up every room she entered. He knew it was her faith—there was no other explanation for it. His uncle had shared with him her past, how she was once an abandoned city urchin, digging in the remains of tossed out food and garbage for her next meal. The thought of being abandoned, let alone not having the security of love and family in his life brought a shiver through him. Especially for a precious little girl. As soon as he’d proclaimed that he knew best for the direction in her life, their last encounter, he’d been miserable. Who was he to say what she could or could not do? How utterly ridiculous.

  He arrived at the bottom of the stairs and went to request for warm drinks to be prepared for when Mary came to join them. What she had endured…yet she held on to her pleasant disposition and caring for people. Then to have a man from a different culture come to her rescue… brought his entitled upbringing to shame. He had been raised with opportunity and had never been in want or need of anything. How vastly different their lives had been and it was clear she was the better person, the one who did not judge, the one willing to serve. It was why he couldn’t get Mary Kincaid out of his mind. She was too good for the likes of him, but he wanted her in his life. There had to be a reason they landed on his uncle’s doorstep all those years ago. He had to believe it was because, even then, God had a plan for them to meet. Now, he needed to convince her of the same, but she was a highly cautious being and he couldn’t blame her. Let him be the one who could love her unconditionally. Even as he stood there, before entering the kitchen, a slice of fear cut his heart…what if she wouldn’t have him?

  ***

  Chapter Sixteen

  From her carpetbag, Mary pulled the dress that seemed to offend Graham to no end and held it to her chest. It reminded her so much of Liang, but as she pulled it to arm’s length, she had no choice but to see it for what it was. Once beautiful, now ragged. She had no desire to hang onto old and raggedy things anymore and that included her farm. She laughed at the idea that she’d even brought the dress, knowing how much her host despised it. The innate feeling of professing her independence to anyone who would listen, that she could do it all alone, had finally begun to drift away. It had been slipping for some time and she hadn’t realized it. She looked toward the sky in prayer. “Does this mean my pride is finally leaving me?”