Stephanie Mittman (29 page)

“The newspaper woman—Abidance, isn’t it?” Ephraim asked coyly, as if he didn’t know about their relationship, as if he didn’t know that Seth
knew
he knew.

“What about her?” Seth asked, figuring if the man wanted to go fishing, he’d have to bait his own hook.

“How’s her health?” he asked, looking innocently at Seth as if to ask what else he could be interested in.

“Good enough to be making wedding plans,” Seth said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. Good enough to have taken his breath away that night on the cot in the newspaper’s back room.

“She’s getting married?” Ephraim’s hand gripped the rail of the footboard. “Abidance Merganser? Are you sure?”

“That’s what she told me,” Seth said, picking up more books and tossing them into a carton. If Ephraim Bartlett had any matchmaking plans, he had best drop them now. “Made quite a good match, actually.”

“Do you know the gentleman?” Bartlett asked, looking at Seth as if he could see right through to his wounded, pathetic heart.

“He’s not from around here,” Seth said. “An old friend in St. Louis.” he added.

“I see,” Ephraim said, his death grip on the bed rail easing.

“I’m glad someone does,” Seth said sarcastically.

“Not seeing this particular patient clearly?” the man asked, an eyebrow raised as he rose and shook out his legs.

“Clearer than she sees,” Seth said. After all, he’d had a real close,
intimate
look. “Which reminds me, she’s got terrible vision, and she doesn’t like her glasses, so she’s somewhat prone to headaches.”

“So you attribute these headaches to her not wearing her spectacles?” Bartlett asked.

“She has no other symptoms that I am aware of,” Seth said, trying to be as professional as Bartlett. “And she assures me that Garfield’s headache powder works well on them, and if that junk helps, I’ve no reason to—”

“No, I didn’t mean you should,” Bartlett agreed. “Women tend to suffer from periodic headaches as well. What about her sister-in-law—Emily is it?”

“I did several tests on Abby when she first complained of the headaches,” Seth continued. “Or at least when my sister, Sarrie, told me Abby was suffering. Abby never complains. Neither did Sarrie, when she was alive. Something for you to know if Abby ever needs your help, Ephraim. If she even comes to you, there’s something wrong.”

“I’ll remember that,” Bartlett said. “I’m sorry about your sister. Loss is hard. What about Emily Merganser? Does she complain much?”

“Emily? No. Normal pregnancy the first time.
Things seem to be progressing as they should. Now, Abby—”

“And the boy you wrote me about—was it appendicitis?”

“Johnnie Youtt,” Seth agreed. “I’m hoping for it to have been an isolated incident. The truth about Abidance is that she’s been more accident prone of late, so I’d suggest you tell her to keep those glasses on or she’ll never make it down the aisle—”

“She started having these headaches when your sister was still alive?” Bartlett asked.

“Around the onset of puberty,” Seth said, remembering how frightening the whole passage into womanhood had been for her. Apparently Clarice Merganser had done nothing to warn her and, like so many things about Abby’s growing up it had fallen to him. Or maybe he’d sought them out, like when he’d taught her to dance. Maybe he’d been in love with her way back then and had just been waiting for her to grow up—

What good did all the wondering do him? Like drops of water on a stone, enough memories could wear him down, wear him away.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your packing. I’m sure you’re anxious to be moving on.” The older doctor let the words peter out as he headed for the door. “Think I’ll just look over some patient files downstairs if that’s all right with you.”

“If you think that perhaps I’ve missed something—” Seth began to say.

“Just want to have a look-see at what I’m up against, so to speak,” Bartlett said.

There was nothing in Eden’s Grove that belonged to Seth anymore.

“My goodness, but that is the loveliest dress I’ve ever seen,” Abby’s mother said, pulling the skirt away from Abby’s legs and fluffing it out as Abby stood on the chair waiting for her to mark the hem. “You will be the most beautiful bride Eden’s Grove has ever seen!”

“I was thinking, Mother, of perhaps going down to St. Louis to get married there. I could go down well in advance of the wedding and stay with Anna Lisa, and when the time comes she could send for you—”

“I don’t understand,” her mother said. “I thought that Emily was helping you arrange things here.”

“It was just a thought,” Abby said. Of course, it wouldn’t work. Anna Lisa was preparing for her own wedding. How could Abby go there to die? “I was just hoping to spare everyone a lot of trouble on my account.”

“Why, dear, whatever would make you think we want to be spared trouble on your account? We love you. We want to be part of whatever happens to you. That’s why parents have children, dearest—to add knots to the cords that tie them to each other.

“You’ll see,” her mother added just as the room began to sway dangerously in front of Abby’s eyes.

“Help me down,” she said, hurrying to get off the chair before she fainted away.

“The doctor is on his way,” Prudence was saying when Abby could finally make sense of the words. Prudence’s lips moved again, but try as she could, Abby couldn’t grasp what she was saying.

“I hope she didn’t break anything.” That was her father, his voice laced with concern.

“She looks so pale.”

Her mother, maybe.

“Isn’t that the loveliest dress? She looks like a bride.” Ah, that was Patience, no doubt wanting her dress.

“Uncross her hands! She looks like a corpse!”

Pru again, Abby thought. Abby moved her hands herself and opened her eyes. “Oh, thank God!” Pru said, touching her hand to Abby’s cheek.

“What happened?” her father asked, just as elephants came marching up the stairs.

“The doctor’s here,” Jed called. “Both of ‘em.”

“I tripped,” Abby said, answering her father as Seth came into her line of vision. “My foot caught in the hem as Mother was marking it and—”

Seth was staring at her, warmth radiating as if he’d brought the sun inside with him. Her hand began to twitch and she hid it behind her head, burying it in the pillows.

“I’m fine now, really,” she said, smiling at Seth and seeing Dr. Bartlett over Seth’s shoulder.

“Why not let me be the judge of that?” he asked softly, and then his hands skimmed her arm, pressing here and there, taking her other arm out from behind her head and examining her hand. She gave a silent
prayer of thanks that it had stopped trembling. “It’s a lovely dress, Abidance.”

His words were as gentle as his hands, and she tried to memorize his face, the soft lines by his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks that played peek-a-boo as he smiled at her.

“Armand will be breathless.”

“Thank you,” she said wishing everyone else in the room would disappear so that she could have these few cherished moments alone with Seth.

“He’ll mistake you for a fairy princess,” he said, touching the tip of her nose with his finger. “And want to carry you away to his castle.”

“Legs all right?” Dr. Bartlett asked, clearing his throat before he did, as if to apologize for interrupting them.

“They’re fine,” she said, bending one knee and then the other. “See?”

“You’d best check for internal injuries,” Dr. Bartlett said. “Why don’t the rest of us go on downstairs and give this poor child a bit of room? You can tell me what happened while Dr. Hendon makes sure that Miss Abidance is fine. And perhaps she can let him know
exactly
what happened.”

“I already told you what happened,” Abby said. “I tripped on the hem of my gown. My wedding gown.”

Dr. Bartlett humphed at her and shepherded her family out of the room, telling Jed he’d like to have a look at his fingers.

She knew she should ask Dr. Bartlett to do the examining. He’d promised to look in his books and report back to her with any positive information he might
find. The fact that he didn’t suggest it meant that he hadn’t found anything that would help her. Still, she should stop him from leaving.

Being alone with Seth was not a good idea.

And yet she watched them all leave without uttering a word.

“You are exquisite, lying there, you know,” he said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t—” she began as he gently traced her bottom rib.

“Does it hurt you to breathe?” he asked, his own breathing shallow as his hands skimmed along her midriff. Did it hurt to breathe with him inches from her, with him touching her, with him close enough for her to take him into her arms and her confidence?

“No.”

He checked the next rib, and the next. And then his hand was grazing the bottom of her breast and she was arching against it.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, stopping his exploration to study her face.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said, scooting back on the bed.

“No? Why not? Can I still make your heart race? Or is it your impending nuptials that has you in this state?” he asked, his voice brittle. She almost believed that he hated her now, but his eyes were shining just a little too brightly, and his breathing was ragged.

Not a good idea
was certainly an understatement.

“And while I’m at it, tell me this. Why did you make me fall in love with you? Why work at me, month after month, telling me you’d never get over me, that you
loved me, only to turn away when I let myself love you back?”

“Things changed,” she said, not having any better answer. “I had no way of knowing how it would all turn out. Please believe me that I just had no idea that it would come to this.”

“Not good enough,” he said. “You loved me as much as I loved you, that night on the cot. You gave to me, not to Armand, your most precious gift. If I stayed here, Abby? If I didn’t give up my practice …”

Wasn’t dying enough punishment? Did she have to bear this, too, for one night of passion?

“Seth, I …”

“I didn’t say I would, Abby. I asked if it would have made a difference.”

When she didn’t answer, he rose from the bed. “I’m leaving in the morning. Unless you ask me not to go.” His eyes pleaded with her and finally the expresion in them turned cold at her silence.

“I’m sorry, Seth,” she said, trying to rise up on her elbows and finding it took too much effort.

“I expect you will be. You’ll have to do some fancy dancing with your husband on your wedding night.”

She closed her eyes. “I’ll worry about that later,” she whispered, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Seth balanced the carton on his knee so that he could open the door to the
Herald
. The little bell rang out as Seth opened it, and Ansel, apparently proofreading Friday’s paper, looked up and stared at him.

“Some of Sarrie’s things she’d have wanted Abby to have,” he said as he set the box on the counter.

“I’ll see she gets them,” he said. It looked as though he had a good deal more to say, but all that came out was, “So you’re really going.”

“Tell your sister to take it easy for a few days and—”

“Has something happened to Abby?” Ansel asked, jumping up from his seat. “Is she—”

“She fell off a chair this morning while your mother was helping her hem her wedding gown,” Seth said calmly, motioning for him to relax. “She didn’t break anything, as far as I can tell, but she was pretty shaken up. Out cold for a while, your mother says.”

“Oh, God,” Ansel said, as if Abby didn’t seem to injure herself on a daily basis.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine in a day or two,” Seth said. “She always is.”

“Is Bartlett with her?” Ansel asked. “Did she see him? What did he say?”

“I told you she’s fine,” Seth snapped, offended that Ansel already considered Bartlett his sister’s doctor.

“Do you still resent that I married Emily?” Ansel asked him, maybe wondering if that was where his anger was coming from. “I mean, in light of Sarrie and all?”

The past was the past, and Seth had finally come to accept it. “No, you were just granting her her last wish when she could still see it come true,” he said. “It must have been hard for you to do.”

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Ansel said. “So far, that is.” He sighed. “Do you think a person who is dying has the right to ask someone to do
something they don’t want to do? Just because they’re dying?”

“Has Sarrie’s request worked out so badly for you?” Seth asked. Ansel had a family, a home. It seemed to Seth that the man had no cause for complaints or second thoughts.

“She chose better for me than I might have for myself,” he admitted. “It’s taken me a while to see that.”

“Well, you could have left town with Ella Welsh, like I am,” Seth said with a laugh.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Ansel warned him. “Don’t do something that you’ll live to regret.”

“Would that involve leaving town, or leaving town with Ella?” Seth asked in return.

“Doc … Seth,” Ansel started. “I wish … If I could …”

“Abby will be happy, Ansel,” he said. “And that’s what’s important.”