Читать книгу Heart And Home - Cassandra Austin - Страница 11

They buried Grams the next morning.

As he stood at the chilly cemetery with the others, Adam found himself watching Jane. She seemed in complete control but the tight jaw and rigid spine testified to what it cost her. Even from where he stood he could see the dark shadows under her eyes.

Following the service, everyone went to the boardinghouse. Adam was sure the entire town and half the countryside were crowded into Jane’s parlor and dining room. He found a place against a wall of the parlor and watched the proceedings with interest. It seemed more like a party than a funeral except that voices were kept appropriately subdued.

Three gentlemen nearby introduced themselves. “Gonna miss that old gal,” one said.

“Shame somebody so lively should come down with dropsy,” commented a second.

“It was pneumonia,” Adam said.

The man nodded. “Once she was down in bed, I figured that’d happen. Her granddaughter took her to Kansas City a month or so ago. Old lady was against it. Waste of money. But she was slowing down and her feet were always swollen, and the girl needed to know why.”

“Don’t dropsy mean a bad heart?” asked another. “Such a shame. The pneumonia was really a blessing.”

The three men left in search of food, leaving Adam to stare after them. Jane hadn’t mentioned a heart condition, though she had said something about it being hopeless. He should have questioned her.

But the pneumonia had been so obvious he hadn’t considered other illnesses at all. What kind of a doctor would make a mistake like that? A young one, he supposed. Still, it bothered him. A lot. He felt he owed Jane an apology for any additional anguish he might have caused her.

He had some thought of seeking her out for that purpose when a middle-aged woman stepped up beside him. “You must be the new doctor.”

“That’s right. Adam Hart.” He extended his hand.

“I’m Rose Finley,” she said, taking the hand and not letting it go. “I saw you get off the train, but you’re even better looking up close.”

Adam laughed self-consciously. “That’s kind of you,” he said, finally extricating his hand.

“But you’re so young,” she added.

His own thoughts exactly. “Yes, ma’am. Only time’s going to cure that.”

“Oh, and clever, too. Is your wife here?”

“I’m not married.”

“You poor thing,” she said. She looked anything but sympathetic.

“Would you excuse me?” He made his way around her and added over his shoulder, “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Finley.”

There was a steady flow of people in and out of the parlor, some carrying plates of food, others holding coffee cups. The hall and the dining room were nearly as crowded. The chairs that normally circled the table had been placed against the wall, along with at least a dozen others. The table was spread with the largest assortment of food Adam had ever seen in one place.

He searched the room for Jane and found her lifting a stack of plates out of the china cupboard. She set the plates on a corner of the table. Before Adam could make his way toward her, she turned and spoke to a woman who had approached her carrying a silver coffee server.

He watched Jane take it and thank the woman, then turn toward the kitchen. Evidently the woman had been reporting that the server was empty. Jane had gone to the kitchen to fill it from the pot that was too heavy for the Cartland sisters to lift.

George Pinter hampered Adam’s progress toward the kitchen. “Quite a spread, huh?” the little man asked with a smile.

“I hope she didn’t cook all of this.”

“You mean Jane? No, most of the women here brought something. Might as well grab a plate and dig in.”

Adam cast another look toward the open kitchen door before he followed Pinter to the table. “Is this what all funerals are like out here?” he asked.

“Somewhat. But everybody was fond of Grams. It’s a tragedy.” He shook his head and repeated, “A real tragedy.”

Adam expected him to add in the next breath that it was a blessing.

Pinter found two empty chairs and motioned for Adam to join him. From across the room, Adam watched Jane pour coffee into outstretched cups, accept dirty dishes and clean up one or two minor spills. “Isn’t she supposed to be the primary mourner here?” he asked.

“Jane? I suppose. But she probably wouldn’t accept help if anyone offered.”

“Has anyone offered?”

George shrugged. “Did you try this apple strudel? I’ll bet anything it’s Jane’s.”

Adam shook his head. “Save this seat.” With a purposeful stride, his dirty plate held out in front of him, he made it to the kitchen without being stopped for more than a greeting. He set his plate on the table and blocked Jane’s way as she headed out with another server of coffee.

“Go sit down,” he said.

“What? People are waiting for more coffee.”

“They can get their own coffee.” At her shocked expression he put his hand next to hers on the silver handle. “Or you can let me pour it. Fill a plate and go sit by Mr. Pinter.”

She made no move to relinquish the server and Adam wondered what was going through her mind. “This is crazy, you know,” he said softly. “Your grandmother dies and you’re expected to throw a party for the whole town? We should all be waiting on you.”

She almost smiled, but her grip on the coffee server tightened. “That’s a little hard to picture. Look, Doctor, I know you mean well, but this is what I do.”

Adam eased his hand away, and she brushed past him. He made his way slowly back to his chair.

“What was that about?” Pinter asked as Adam sat down.

“I offered to help. You were right”

Pinter laughed and the sound grated against Adam’s ears, as had all the other laughter he had heard this morning. “Don’t take it so hard, son. Your mama’d be proud you offered.”

Adam swallowed laughter of his own. He knew some woman had given birth to him, but it had been years since he had thought about it. The notion that she might have a moment of pride on his account seemed ludicrous. “That wasn’t the point,” he muttered.

A few minutes later the first of the guests decided to leave. Adam kept his seat and watched them approach Jane. A few remembered to offer their condolences along with their thanks for the lunch. Scattered dishes on the table left with their owners. The pace of the departures increased until he was the only one remaining.

Jane walked slowly back to the dining room after seeing the last of the guests out. She knew Dr. Hart was still sitting in there. She would have noticed if he had left with the rest. It was too much to hope that he had gone out the back door while she wasn’t looking.

No, she was right. There he was. At least he had the manners to come to his feet when she entered the room. Could that possibly mean he was finally ready to leave?

That hope died with his words. “You look exhausted.”

“Is that your medical opinion?” She decided to tackle the table first, starting with the empty platters.

“Yeah, but it’s free.”

“That’s about what it’s worth.” She didn’t want to find the doctor amusing. She didn’t want to be attracted to a man engaged to a beautiful, wealthy woman. If he would just go away she wouldn’t have to think about him—at least not as much. “Don’t you have patients to see?”

“Apparently not. This may be the healthiest town in the country.” He was using a large empty platter as a tray and filling it with cups that were lying around the room.

She watched him a moment, marveling at his efficient movements. Actually, marveling at more than that until she remembered she wanted to send him away. “How will you know if you have patients if you aren’t home when they come?”

“There’s a note on the door that says I’m here.” He carried the platter of dishes into her kitchen.

She quickly followed him. “Are you mad at me for not letting you pour coffee? Is that why you’re hanging around?”

“No.” His back was to her and it took her a moment to tear her eyes away from the wide expanse of shoulders and notice what he was doing. He pumped water into her dishpan and placed it on her stove. Flicking a drop of water on his finger he tested the temperature of the stovetop.

When he started to remove his suit coat, she found her voice. “What are you doing?”

He paused for only an instant, then the coat came off, reminding her of the other time she had seen him in his shirtsleeves. A suspicion tickled the back of her mind but he spoke, distracting her. “I was going to wash, but I could dry if you’d rather.”

“Do I look so bad that you think I need help?”

He was removing his tie, and it demanded her full attention. Long, clever fingers worked a collar button loose. Then another. In a moment the collar and tie were stuffed into a pocket of the coat he had kept over his arm, and his throat was exposed.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, and she found herself reaching for the coat as he handed it to her. He rolled up his sleeves as he talked. “I was wrong about your grandmother.”

Jane blinked. “Apparently not.”

“I mean, I was right about the pneumonia. But I didn’t know about the dropsy.”

“I told you…” She watched him shake his head and realized that she hadn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it was my fault. I should have asked more questions.”

How many men could admit their mistakes so easily, or were willing to accept blame that was partially hers? How many men had eyes that shade of blue?

Jane shook her head. Dr. Hart was a distraction she didn’t need. “You’re forgiven,” she said, “and you don’t have to help with the dishes to make amends.”

He grinned at that, that charming little-boy grin that made her want to smile. “Let me be honest,” he said, as if he were about to share a secret. “I’ve never lived alone before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been alone before. That house gives me the creeps.”

He turned away, opened a cabinet door and withdrew a tray. “I bet there are dishes in the parlor.”

Jane followed him with slow steps, stunned by the turn of events. His steps, on the other hand, were purposeful, and he outdistanced her in a moment. She stood in her messy dining room, staring at the empty doorway to the hall.

And caressing Dr. Hart’s suit coat. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she put it over the back of a chair. He was determined to stay and help her clean up. It was foolish to argue about it. First, because she didn’t think he would give in, and second, because she was exhausted.

She would concentrate on his “secret” and put her grandmother’s death out of her mind for a little while. She was still standing two steps inside the dining room when he returned with the tray of dishes.

“You need a dog,” she said as she followed him into the kitchen. He turned and grinned at her. He looked exactly like a little boy who had just been offered a puppy. “How old are you?” she asked.

He laughed. It was a very pleasant laugh, and she decided she needed that even more than she needed his help.

He found a place for the tray and turned back to her. “Think of how much trouble I’d be in if I asked you that”

“All right. I’ll assume you’re older than you look, and you can assume I’m younger than I look. How’s that?”

“You really think I look so young?”

His grin was the kind that took over his whole face. It was incredibly charming. And incredibly dangerous. “Let me wash,” she said. “You can dry if you want to.”

“You’re avoiding the question, but I suppose that’s an answer. Maybe that’s why I don’t have any patients. They think I’m too young.”

She moved the pan of warmed water to the counter, glad that she could turn her back on him. She had a tendency to want to gaze at him and not get her work done. “You don’t have any patients yet because folks aren’t used to going for help. They tend to take care of themselves.”

Until they’re desperate, she would have added, but she didn’t want any reminder of his visits to Grams. It was there, of course, always between them, but unspoken was preferable to spoken.

He was silent for a few minutes, giving her a chance to get some glasses washed in peace. “In other words,” he said, opening the drawer that contained her tea towels, “I can expect to see only severe cases at first.”

There it was, too close to spoken. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Yes,” she managed to answer.

She was grateful that he said no more about it. She washed and he dried, carrying trays full of her dishes to the cabinet in the dining room and bringing back more dirty dishes with each trip. “That’s the last in there,” he said finally. “Why don’t you do something with the food while I clean up the table?”

He found the furniture polish and was gone before she could agree or disagree. But why would she have disagreed? They were making their way through the mess much more quickly than she could have on her own. And he was surprisingly efficient help.

Oddly enough, she had wanted to disagree. It was her boardinghouse, and she prided herself on being self-sufficient. She hated to admit she needed help. She hated even more to admit she enjoyed his company. She had no time for a man in her life, even if she wanted one, which she most certainly did not. Besides, he had Doreena.

He returned to the kitchen, put the polish away and grabbed a fresh tea towel. “So what happens if I get a dog and he bothers the neighbors?”

His eager tone made her laugh out loud, surprising herself. “Since I’m your only close neighbor, I suppose that would be me. Let’s see.” She was washing the large platters now. She could hear the gentle clatter as he carefully stacked them on the table.

“As a matter of fact, your dog could cause me a lot of trouble. He could pull my laundry off the line, chew up my favorite tablecloth, dig up my flowers, accost my guests—”

“No,” he interrupted. “No accosting. I’d train him better than that.”

“So what about my flowers and my clothes?”

“Puppies are puppies.” There was that grin again, so infectious she couldn’t help smiling.

“And my favorite tablecloth?”

“I’d buy you a new one. If I ever get any patients.” She watched him slowly turn serious. “Probably not a good idea,” he said.

“I was teasing, Adam.” She had a sudden notion that perhaps he had never had a chance to be a little boy. She would bet his childhood hadn’t included a puppy.

“How’s this?” she suggested. “If you treat a farmer or his family and he offers you a pig as payment, ask if he’s got any puppies instead.”

Adam looked stunned. “Offers a pig as payment? You are joking, aren’t you?”

She laughed and turned back to the dishes.

“Pigs,” he muttered. He lifted the stack of platters and, just before he took it to the dining room, added, “If I get paid with a pig, I’m paying for my dinners with it.”

Jane fought the urge to giggle. The situation was too bizarre. Here she was laughing with a man whom she swore she didn’t like, letting him help her with dishes, of all things. Well, she did like him; she couldn’t help that. He would be as impossible to dislike as that puppy they were talking about.

She heard voices in the dining room and realized the clatter of dishes had kept her from hearing the front door. Grabbing a towel to dry her hands, she went out to investigate.

“He’s in the wagon,” a woman was saying.

“You go make sure he doesn’t move,” Adam told her. “I’ll be right out.”

The woman, a farm wife Jane knew only vaguely, hurried to do as Adam said.

Adam turned to her, tossing the tea towel over her shoulder. “Sorry I can’t help you finish.”

Jane shook her head, but he had already turned away. A need to watch him with a patient other than Grams sent her after him. She stood on her porch as he leaned over the wagon. The sideboards hid the patient from Jane’s view, but a small foot extending out the back made her realize it was the woman’s son, not husband that she had brought to town.

Adam spoke softly, the encouraging tones reaching Jane’s ears if not the words. The woman nodded and took his place at the back of the wagon while he ran into his house. Jane walked down her steps and joined the woman.

“What happened, Mrs. Tallon?” she asked, the name coming to her when she saw the six-year-old boy’s face. “How did Billy get hurt?”

“Oh, Miss Sparks,” the woman said, reaching out to her. “He fell trying to build a tree house. I told him to wait ‘til his father could help him.”

“Aunt Jane!” the boy cried. His mother moved quickly to keep him still. “Doc says my leg’s busted.”

“Well, don’t sound so proud,” his mother scolded.

“It hurt a lot at first,” Billy confided. “But now it don’t hurt less’en I move it.”

Adam joined them with splints and his medical bag. Jane stepped out of his way but watched over his shoulder as he cut the boy’s trouser leg from the ankle.

“So what do you think, Doc?” she asked. “Can little boys with broken legs still eat cookies?”

Even where she stood she could see Adam grin at Billy. “I don’t know. A diet of spinach and beets is what I usually recommend.”

Billy looked dismayed for a moment, then grinned back. “You’re just funnin’ me.”

Jane took Mrs. Tallon’s hand. “When the doctor gets through tying him back together, bring him over for a cookie before you head home.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” the woman said, “but we can’t. I’ll need to get home and start dinner. I’ll have Billy’s chores to do now, too.”

“Of course. Say, I have all kinds of food left from the funeral dinner. I’d be pleased if you’d take it home to your husband and boys.”

“Funeral dinner? Your grandmother?” Mrs. Tallon put her arm around Jane’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Miss Sparks. I hadn’t heard.”

“I understand,” Jane said quickly, not wanting to dwell on the funeral. “Now that dinner’s taken care of, you have time to bring Billy by for a cookie. I’ll go box up the food.”

Jane hurried back to her kitchen, uncertain why she had a sudden need to get away. The mention of the funeral, probably. She had managed to forget about it for a while. She had needed something like this to bring her back to her senses. She was starting to have too much fun teasing Dr. Adam Hart.

Grams was barely underground, and Jane was already forgetting her advice. Don’t trust men with anything but business. Don’t depend on them, and don’t let them know your weaknesses.

What Jane knew about her father should have taught her those lessons, anyway. He had used her mother and abandoned them both. What little he’d left her when he died couldn’t begin to make up for the pain he had caused.

Surely all men weren’t like that, Jane had argued, but how would one know?

One can’t, had been Grams’s answer.

Jane busied herself transferring food into pie plates and bowls she wouldn’t miss before Mrs. Tallon had a chance to return them. She tried to convince herself that her relationship with Adam was still business, the same as her relationship with George or the guests in the boardinghouse.

He was just one of the first men she had dealt with who was close to her age. Her responsibilities kept her from socializing much except with boarders, who tended to be older. That was the root of the attraction.

And why shouldn’t she have a friend her own age? She was not quite twenty-two and couldn’t remember ever having a friend. That was all Adam was. He had, after all, the beautiful Doreena. His interest in Plain Jane was probably because of their ages as well.

Or more likely because of his stomach.

At any rate, it was pleasant to have a friend, Jane decided, tackling the rest of the dishes once she had started a small pot of coffee. And she was safe from Adam because of Doreena.

Adam couldn’t explain why he wished Jane had stayed. The boy and his mother were both cooperative and calm. He didn’t need or even want her help.

He tried to put her out of his mind as he set the boy’s leg and gave them instructions. “Don’t put any weight on that leg,” he finished. “I’ll come out to take a look at it tomorrow. Let me know immediately if there are any problems.”

“Thanks, Dr. Hart,” Mrs. Tallon said. “I’ll talk to the mister about how to pay you and get it taken care of as soon as possible.”

“Can we go see Aunt Jane now?” Billy asked.

“How am I supposed to get you in there?” his mother responded. “I’ll see if she can send a cookie home with us.”

Suddenly the excuse to be in Jane’s kitchen again was more than Adam could resist. “I’ll carry him in, Mrs. Tallon. You can get the door.”

“I always come see Aunt Jane when we’re in town,” Billy explained. “She likes little boys.”

“I think you like her, too,” Adam said, carefully supporting the injured leg as he lifted the boy into his arms.

“I shouldn’t do it since I hardly know her,” the boy’s mother confided, “but sometimes I let Billy play at Miss Sparks’s house while I do my shopping. She doesn’t seem to mind and Billy’s much happier that way.”

Adam was a little curious as to what the everefficient-and-tidy Miss Sparks thought of having a little boy underfoot. He guessed she let Mrs. Tallon take advantage of her, the same way everyone at the funeral dinner had.

But then, she was the one who’d offered cookies.

Adam carried Billy into the kitchen, spotless now and smelling of fresh coffee. Jane had already positioned a chair with a pillow on it to support the broken leg. When Billy was comfortably seated, Adam stepped back to watch Jane. She gave the boy a hug then knelt down on the floor. “That’s one fancy leg you’ve got now,” she said. “Dr. Hart went to a lot of work to keep you from climbing trees.”

“That’s not why,” the boy said.

Jane smiled at the child as she rose to her feet. She served coffee to the adults and milk to Billy, and set a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table.

Jane was comfortable with the farm woman and talked easily about weather and crops. She was obviously a special friend to Billy. Adam watched her wink at the boy and slip him another cookie after his mother had said he’d had enough.

“The leg set all right, didn’t it?” Jane asked him as Mrs. Tallon prepared to leave.

“It’ll be fine. I just want to keep an eye on it for the next few days to be sure the splint keeps it immobile and there are no other complications.”

“She can’t keep bringing him into town,” Jane said, wrapping some cookies in a napkin and tucking them into one of the boxes that sat by the door.

“I’ll ride out to the farm,” Adam said. He wondered what was bothering her. Mrs. Tallon had said they hardly knew each other. Was she worried about the boy or did she know something about the farm that he didn’t? Her comment about pigs came back to him.

But her mind was on a different track. “He could stay here,” she said.