Ginny Aiken (19 page)

Urging his horses to a faster pace, Eric soon reached Silver Creek Church. He secured the team and ran up to the manse.

“Eric!” Adele Stone ushered him inside. “How may we help you?”

He knew how the fervent matchmaker would view his request, but he couldn’t avoid it. Letty needed help.

Glancing in the oak hall mirror, Eric saw that he still wore his hat. He tugged it off and twisted the brim with his fingers, wondering how best to voice his request. “I don’t need help, Mrs. Stone, Le—Dr. Morgan does.”

“Oh, no. Has something happened to that dear child?”

Eric squashed a curse. “I’m sorry, I’m not doing this well. No, Le—Dr. Morgan is quite well. Or at least she was when I last saw her a few hours ago, but she has gotten herself into a predicament.”

Mrs. Stone tightened the belt of her wine-red robe, reminding Eric of the late hour. About to apologize for his intrusion, he saw Mrs. Stone’s determined expression. He kept his peace.

She wagged a finger at him. “If it’s about her consorting with pros—er . . . with soiled—you know what I mean. At any rate, I don’t believe a word of it. Letitia Morgan is a fine, upstanding young lady who wouldn’t have a thing to do with fallen women.”

“There’s the problem. Dr. Morgan has been in contact with some of them. Twice, in fact.”

Mrs. Stone gasped.

He continued. “It came about because of her efforts to help the Patterson children.” He then described the scene outside the brothel, the injuries the two girls had suffered at the hands of Bessie’s patrons, and finally, how Letty planned to care for Mim, who had decided to leave that life.

Smoothing his mustache, Eric chose his next words with care. “Dr. Morgan has patients, she’s helping the Pattersons, and now she’s helping these two young tarts. She even has two roosters and three hens in her kitchen. It’s too much for one woman, even though she won’t agree. I fear she’ll exhaust her health. That’s why I need your help.”

Mrs. Stone crossed her arms over her bosom, a raised eyebrow accenting her frown. She held Eric’s gaze as she weighed his words.

“Of course we’ll help Dr. Morgan,” said Pastor Stone, who had descended the stairs unnoticed. “We’ll help her and the girls. Hers is a godly mission, one to which our Lord calls us. Scripture says, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these
my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ In fact, I’m ashamed it took the doctor’s efforts to show me my error.”

The pastor’s words settled the matter for his wife, and she started up the stairs. “I’ll dress quickly so that we can go to Letty’s house and collect the child. The pastor and I have more room here than she does. Most likely, she’s given the girl her own bed.”

Eric nodded. Yes, the little fool had. Affection and his reluctant admiration now gentled his irritation with Letty’s behavior.

At Letty’s house, they received no response to Eric’s knock. He waited and then tried again, louder this time. Still no answer. Then when he tried it, the doorknob yielded, and he pushed the door ajar.

Mrs. Stone followed him to the examining room, and both came to a stop. The doctor slept curled up on her examining table, a thin sheet over her slight form.

Eric’s anger boiled again.

Mrs. Stone clucked and said, “I’ll fetch Mim. You can carry our good doctor to her bed once it’s vacant. Surely between the two of us we can take care of these two girls.”

The pastor’s wife woke Mim and explained the situation, gently dispelling the girl’s distrust and wariness.

“I’ll still work for Dr. Morgan,” Mim said at the end of the conversation.

“Of course,” Mrs. Stone said. “Once you recover you can help the doctor all you want. Now, however, you’ll help most by coming with me and giving Dr. Morgan her bed.”

Eric admired how Adele Stone handled the situation, and he tipped his head in silent recognition. The older woman smiled and winked. He left the room to give Mim the privacy to dress, and before long, the two joined him in the examining room. He went to wake Letty, but the pastor’s wife stopped him.

“No, son,” she said. “It’s best if you carry her upstairs. Just place her on the bed and cover her. She needs her rest, so for once she can sleep in her clothes.”

Eric studied the inveterate matchmaker’s expression, wondering if she was indeed trying to strike yet another match, but her face revealed only concern. He set his suspicions aside and, after bidding her and Mim good night, he returned to Letty’s side.

With one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, Eric lifted Letty, surprised by how light she felt.

As he stepped toward the stairs, she stirred in his arms. A sigh escaped her lips, followed by a whisper that sounded somewhat like his name. He paused. Then, still asleep, she curled her arms around his neck. Her gesture caught him off guard, and he nearly dropped her. When she nuzzled his neck and murmured, his longing returned.

She whispered his name again.

Carrying his precious cargo to the bedroom in the eaves, his gaze caressed her pretty face, relaxed in sleep. Tenderness filled his heart. He reluctantly set her on the bed and drew up the covers. He ran a finger over an eyebrow, down her straight nose, over her cheek. She was so soft, so warm.

But he had to be strong. He was well aware that she shared the attraction, and as the more experienced of the two, he had to stay in control. He walked away.

“Eric?”

Her sleep-soft voice stopped him short of the doorway. He didn’t dare face her; he doubted he could mask his yearning and need. “Yes.”

“Why are you here?” She glanced around the room as if to orient herself. “Mim!” she cried. “Where’s Mim?”

Blast it, she wasn’t going to let him escape.

“Mim . . . well, Pastor and Mrs. Stone want to house the girl. You need your bed.”

“And just how did they learn of her using my bed?”

Eric’s cheeks caught fire. “I saw the dark circles under your eyes earlier this evening, and I know how great a burden you’re bearing, so I fetched help on my way home from the Pattersons’.”

The feisty light of indignation appeared in Letty’s eyes. “I had very few patients today, and I don’t see how caring for a few children is too much work at all. Besides, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a keeper, Mr. Wagner.”

“Kindly stop that Mr. Wagner hogwash you start when you don’t like what I do. I’m sick of your ‘No, Mr. Wagner,’ ‘I don’t like that, Mr. Wagner,’ ‘You did the wrong thing, Mr. Wagner.’ I, too, am an adult and don’t need your permission to care for you, Letitia Morgan.”

Letty stared, her thoughts whirling, her heart pounding. Had Eric just said what she thought she’d heard?

Mustering what dignity she could, considering a man stood in her bedroom, she rose. “I told you once before, Eric, I won’t be a kept woman. You needn’t concern yourself with my needs. I see to myself.”

“So that’s why tonight you gave your bed to a harlot?”

“That child needs your sympathy and assistance, not your condemnation. Have you no mercy?”

“Plenty.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “And I act upon it when necessary. I saw a need earlier this evening. You obviously don’t know the risk you’re taking, much less recognize your needs.
You
need my mercy.”

Letty bit her lip. Yes, she’d ignored his advice, but she had a conscience. His attitude toward Mim and Daisy differed so greatly from his concern for the Pattersons. How could he feel such hatred without even knowing the girls?

And what did he mean by
her
needs? What had he said without coming out and voicing it? Did he really care enough about
her to worry over her lost sleep? Then perhaps she
had
heard correctly.

She measured his expression but found no gentleness there, just a wagonload of determination. He was likely protecting the town’s investment in a doctor.

Still, she couldn’t capitulate. “Oh, Eric, there’s such suffering among the Patterson children. They’re starved for a woman’s love.” Tears filled her eyes. “I have no children and probably never will because of my career. I’m not the kind of woman a man takes for his bride. Even my mother said as much. I came to accept that to obey God’s call to heal, I’d have to give up marriage and motherhood, but my heart still cries for a child. I have so much love to give.”

Her eyes sought his, pleading for understanding. She stepped closer. Only the slight easing in Eric’s features told her he’d heard.

She went on. “My mother devoted herself to my father’s career as an army doctor and spared little time for me. Especially since I showed no ladylike tendencies. I know how these children feel. I feel the loneliness, too.”

A shuddery breath quieted her impending sobs. “When I look at Daisy and Mim, I see motherless girls.” She doubted the wisdom of such candor but felt compelled to confess what she harbored deep inside. “Daisy and Mim are where I fear Caroline, Amelia, and even Suzannah might end up if no one loves them enough.”

Eric started as if she’d jabbed him with a hat pin, but before he could respond, Letty finished her plea. “Let me mother them. Let them be the children I’ll never have. I need them, and they need me—all of them. Why should I abandon them as everyone else has?”

Her words died in a sob. She’d bared her yearnings, shared her fears, and she prayed Eric wouldn’t think them inconsequential, or worse, a silly woman’s ditherings.

Eric didn’t betray her faith in him. He came to her side and opened his arms. Letty hesitated, then walked into the haven he offered. She laid her head on his broad shoulder, her tears flowing unchecked. The ache of her unwed, childless state poured out.

Eric nuzzled her temple. “Oh, Letty . . .” His lips found the curve of her cheekbone, where he traced a line of kisses. Down, down they went until they found her lips. His soft kiss brought tears to her eyes until she felt the texture of the caress change. It heated, deepened, making her heart race and her head spin. Eric’s arms tightened around her, and all doubt about his interest in her vanished in that hungry, needy kiss.

But there was more to his touch than mere passion. His hands held her firmly yet gently, and his kiss soon matched that gentleness again. If there were ever anything like heaven on earth, Letty knew this came mighty close.

With a final gossamer touch, he released her lips.

His tenderness sent her hope soaring. She knew he desired her; he’d made that evident with his every touch, and just a brief while earlier he’d said he wanted to care for her. She knew his feelings ran deep. Yet she recognized his continued anguish over the death of his wife. Did Martina’s memory remain too strong for him to love another woman?

Letty appraised his face. Affection gleamed in his dark brown eyes, a blush colored his cheeks, and the hand she held over his heart picked up the wild tempo of his pulse. She remembered the evening in the barn.

Evidently, so did he.

With a rough sigh, Eric slowly moved Letty away. He fisted his hands then sent his gaze over the small room, pausing on those details uniquely hers. A stethoscope lay atop a chest of drawers. Her cape was draped over a chair by the window. The rose dimity
nightdress hung from a hook on the wall by the oak washstand, and the womanly scent of violets hovered everywhere.