Читать книгу Restless Hearts - Marta Perry - Страница 10

When no one answered his knock at the old Landers house, Ted pulled open the screen door and stepped into the hallway, glancing around. Come to think of it, he’d have to start calling this the Flanagan place. Or Flanagan clinic, maybe. Rumor had it she was starting a midwife practice here.

Whatever she was doing, Ms. Flanagan really shouldn’t leave her door standing open that way. Then he noticed that the latch had come loose when he pulled on the screen door, probably one of hundreds of little things to be fixed.

“Ms. Flanagan?”

The two large rooms on either side of the central hallway were empty, except for a few odds and ends of furniture left by the last inhabitants. He could see what attracted the woman to the house—under the dust and neglect were beautiful hardwood floors, and the rooms were graciously proportioned, with bay windows looking out toward the street.

“Hello, is anyone here?”

A muffled call answered him from somewhere upstairs. Taking that for an invitation, he started up the staircase, running his hand along the curving banister. An oval stained-glass window on the landing sent a pattern of color onto the faded linoleum someone had been foolish enough to put over those beautiful stairs.

Sunlight poured through the tall window at one end of the center of the second floor landing. He paused, blinking at the sight of a rickety stepladder under what had to be the opening to the attic. A pair of sneakered feet balanced on the very top. Nothing else was visible of Fiona but a pair of trim legs in dust-streaked jeans.

The stepladder wobbled dangerously, and he grabbed it, steadying it with both hands. “What on earth are you doing up there? Trying to break a leg?”

As soon as the words were out, he realized that was more or less what he’d said that first night when he’d spotted her. Now, at least, she owned the house, but that was no excuse for endangering herself.

Fiona poked her head down from the dark rectangle of the attic opening, looking disheveled and annoyed. “What are you doing here?”

“At the moment, I’m keeping this ladder from collapsing under you.”

“It’s perfectly fine.” Her weight shifted, and the ladder swayed.

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to let go?”

Her lips clamped together. “No.” She seemed to force the word out. Then, hands braced on the edge of the opening, she started lowering herself.

He caught her elbows and lifted her the rest of the way to the floor. The stepladder, relieved, collapsed in a heap on the dusty floorboards.

For a moment Fiona looked as if she’d like to kick the recalcitrant ladder, but then she managed a rueful smile. “Much as I hate to admit it, it looks as if you’re right.”

“I’ll find something sturdy to stand on and close that for you. No problem.”

“I’d say I don’t need help, but that would just convince you I’m totally irrational.” The smile warmed a bit, and her eyebrows lifted. “Did you come for something in particular?”

“Just being neighborly,” he said mildly. He glanced around, spotting a solid-looking chair in the nearest room, and hauled it over. Fiona wouldn’t be able to reach the ceiling from it, but he could.

He climbed onto the chair, reached up and eased the hatch back into place. It set off a puff of dust as it settled into its groove. He stepped back to the floor.

Fiona, apparently aware of how dirty she was, attempted to transfer the dust from her hands to her jeans, not looking at him. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

That fierce independence of hers amused him, but it also made him wonder what was behind it. If she couldn’t accept a little nosy neighborliness, she’d never fit in here. He’d had to get used to that again when he came back.

She straightened. “I’m glad this isn’t an official call. As you can see, I’m rather busy just now.”

“Looking over your new purchase from top to bottom,” he agreed. The girls he’d grown up with had had plenty of spirit, giving as good as they got, but Fiona was different. Defensive, almost, and the cop part of his mind wondered what she had to be defensive about.

“It’s a beautiful house, really. It’s just been neglected.” Her smile flickered, and he thought her pride of ownership was getting the better of her wariness with him. “Once I have the renovations done, you won’t know it’s the same place.”

“What do you have in mind to do?” He was happy to keep her talking about the house, because it seemed to put her at ease. Since she was moving in, she was part of his responsibility, and he liked to stay on friendly terms with folks.

“My living quarters will be up here.” She gestured. “At first I thought I’d have to install a kitchen on this floor, but there’s actually a back staircase that leads down to the current kitchen, so I can just use that.”

“A remnant from the days when people had servants, I guess. What happens downstairs?”

“The old parlor will make a perfect waiting room.” She started down the steps, gesturing as she talked, and he followed. “The other rooms will have to be partitioned to make an exam room and an office, maybe space for classes. The birthing clinic where I worked in San Francisco ran a lot of childbirth classes, but I don’t know how much demand there will be here.”

He shrugged, coming down the last step to stand beside her in the hall. “You may be surprised. Plenty of women among the Plain People prefer home births and might enjoy the classes. You should be able to build a good practice, if you stay.”

“If?” Her eyebrows shot up at his words. “I’m not going to all this trouble with the intent of leaving. Why would you say that?”

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t wonder if you knew how this state has been losing medical personnel to other places. We’ve seen too much coming and going, mostly going, to take anything for granted. Folks just start to rely on someone and then find they’ve moved on to greener pastures.”

Especially city-bred people like you, he thought but didn’t say.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She stroked the intricate carving of the newel post. “This place is going to be my home.”

Her voice actually trembled with emotion on the last word, touching him, making him want to know what lay behind that emotion, but he didn’t figure he had the right.

He was here because it was his duty to protect and serve all the residents of his township, he reminded himself. Not because he had a personal interest in a woman like Fiona Flanagan, with her quick tongue and urban manners.

“Well, if that’s what you plan to do with the house, I guess you’re going to need someone to do the carpentry work, won’t you?”

She nodded. “Is there any chance you might be able to recommend someone?”

“There are a couple of possibilities among the Amish carpenters, it being fall and the harvest is in. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Amish,” she repeated, and he couldn’t tell what emotion tightened her face for an instant.

“They’re good carpenters, and this is an Amish community. I’d think you’d want an introduction to them.”

“Yes, of course, that would be perfect.” Whatever the emotion had been, it was gone. “Do you think they’d be able to start soon?”

She looked up at him with such appeal that for a moment he’d do most anything to keep that hope shining in her eyes.

“I’ll see if I can get hold of Mose Stetler. Maybe he can come over today or tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much.” All her wariness was washed away by enthusiasm. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He took a reluctant step toward the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And while he was at it, he’d best give himself a good talking to. Fiona’s blend of urban sophistication and innocent enthusiasm was a heady mixture, but he couldn’t afford to be intrigued by a woman like her. If he ever decided to risk himself on love again, it would be with a nice, ordinary woman who understood the balancing act between two worlds that he maintained every day of his life.

By midafternoon, Fiona had finished cleaning the room intended for her bedroom and even hung some clothes in the closet. It wasn’t going to take much more than elbow grease and a little furniture to make her upstairs apartment livable. Now, if Ted came through on his promise to contact the carpenters, she could actually have an opening day in sight.

She’d already gone through the arduous process necessary to get her certification in order, and she’d contacted several obstetricians and the hospital in Suffolk, as well as a birthing center in the city that could use her services on a part-time basis until she got her practice on its feet. Now all that remained was to complete the office and find some clients.

Nolie, who knew the area well, had advised her to build word of mouth by meeting as many people as possible, and she might as well start on that today. After a shower and a change of clothes, she went outside, hesitating for a moment on the porch. She’d much rather be judged on her professional expertise than her personality, but if she planned to build her own practice, this had to be done.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her jacket, she headed for the general store. She’d already noticed how busy it was, and since it was right next door, it was a logical place to start.

The sign on the front door read Ruth Moser, Proprietor. Maybe Ruth would be the friendly type of neighbor who’d let her post her business card where people would see it. Another deep breath was necessary, and then she opened the door and stepped inside.

The store was bigger than she’d thought from the outside—extending back into almost cavernous depths where aisles were stocked with what she supposed were farming supplies, as well as hardware and tools she couldn’t begin to identify. The front part of the store carried groceries, and through an archway she glimpsed what must have been the tourist section—quilts, rag rugs, cloth dolls with blank faces—all the souvenirs a visitor to Pennsylvania Dutch country might want to take home.

“Welcome.” The woman who came toward her wore a print dress with an apron over it. A white prayer cap was perched on abundant gray hair pulled back into a bun. Her smile echoed the welcome. “I’ll spare you the usual Penn Dutch spiel. You’re not a tourist.” She held out her hand. “I’m Ruth Moser.”

Fiona found her hand caught in a grip as strong as a man’s. “I’m Fiona Flanagan. I just bought the house next door.”

“And you’re a nurse-midwife,” Ruth finished for her. “We already know that about you, we do. Hard to keep any secrets in a place like Crossroads, believe me.”

The woman’s smile was contagious. Bright blue eyes in a weathered face inspected Fiona, but it was a friendly inspection that she didn’t find intimidating.

“I guess I don’t need the explanation I’d planned to give you then, do I?”

“Ach, well, you’ll have to forgive us. Folks who live in an area like this all know each other so well that an incomer is a nine days’ wonder. Everyone in the township knows about the new midwife, and welcome news it is. The closest Amish midwife is nearly twenty miles away, and folks out here don’t like going clear into Suffolk, either.”

“I’m certainly glad to hear that.” This was going better than she’d imagined. “I’d hoped you might be willing to post one of my business cards where your customers would see it.”

“Give me a whole stack of them, and I’ll pass them on to anyone who might be thinking of babies,” Ruth said promptly.

“That’s wonderful.” She pulled a handful from the side pocket of her bag. “I’ll bring some more over later, if you can use them.”

“Sure thing.” Ruth took the cards and slipped them into an apron pocket. “I suppose Ted Rittenhouse told you how short of medical help we are around here, unless we want to go into Suffolk.”

Why would she suppose anything of the kind? “Ted Rittenhouse?”

Ruth seemed oblivious to the edge in her voice. “Ted certainly is a nice fellow. Born and bred in the township, and glad we were to have him come back home again after that time in Chicago. You like him, don’t you?”

“I—I thought he was very helpful. When I got lost, I mean, the first time I came to see the house.”

“Helpful, yes. Kind, too. Why, I’ve known that boy since he was running around barefoot. There’s not a mean bone in his body.”

“Yes, well—I’m sure that’s true.” And why on earth did the woman think she needed to know that? “Do you mind if I look around your store?”

“I’ll show you around myself. Not exactly busy on a weekday in the fall, though weekends we still get the rush of tourists trampling through, oohing and aahing over the Amish and blocking the roads every time they spot a buggy. Still, their money helps keep me afloat.”

“You seem to carry just about everything anyone could want in here.” A cooler marked Night Crawlers sat next to a rack filled with the latest celebrity magazines.

“That’s why it’s a general store.” Ruth looked around with satisfaction at her domain. Apparently she felt the same way about her store as Fiona did about her practice. “I have something for everyone from the Amish farmers to the senior citizen bus tours. No good Pennsylvania Dutchman ever turned down profit.”

Fiona glanced at the woman’s print dress. “You’re not Amish, I take it?”

“Mennonite. First cousins to the Amish, you bet.” She brushed the full skirt. “You can tell by the clothes. You’ll soon get onto it.” The bell on the door tinkled, and she gestured toward the archway. “I’ll just get that. Go on through and check out the other section. I’ve got some lovely quilts and handmade chests if you’re looking to furnish your house local.”

She hadn’t thought of that, but obviously it would be good public relations to buy some of what she needed locally. She walked through the archway. The rag rugs would be beautiful against the hardwood once the floors were cleaned and polished. And—

She rounded the end of the aisle and lost her train of thought. The back part of this area was a large, well-lit workroom. Finished quilts lined the walls, their colors and patterns striking.

Two Amish women bent over a quilt frame, apparently putting the finishing touches to a quilt whose vibrant colors glowed against their dark, plain dresses. Another sat at a treadle sewing machine. All three glanced at her briefly and then lowered their eyes, as if it were impolite to stare.

But she was the one who was being impolite, unable to tear her gaze away. Was that what her mother would have looked like now, if she hadn’t run away, if she hadn’t died? Dark dress, dark apron, hair parted in the center and pulled back beneath a white cap, seeming to belong in another century?

“Looks like plenty of work is being done in here.” The voice from behind startled her into an involuntary movement. Ted nodded coolly and strolled past her to lean over the quilt on the frame.

“Another Double Wedding Ring? Haven’t you made enough of those in the last year, Em?”

The woman he spoke to surprised Fiona by laughing up at him in what could only be described as a flirtatious way. “That’s what the English want, Ted Rittenhouse. You know that well, you do.”

“Well, give the customers what they want, I suppose.” He nodded toward Fiona, apparently not noticing that she stood frozen to the spot. “You meet the new midwife who’s setting up next door, did you?”

Apparently now that he had, in effect, introduced her, it was all right to stare. Three pairs of eyes fixed on her as Ted mentioned the women’s names: Emma Brandt, Barbara Stoller, Sarah Bauman. Emma was probably in her thirties, although it was difficult to judge, and the other two probably in their sixties.

Fiona nodded, trying to get past the unexpected shock she’d felt at the sight of them. These were people who might introduce her to prospective clients in the Amish community, so she’d better try to make a decent impression.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. The quilt is wonderful. I didn’t realize you actually made them here.”

“Ruth says the tourists like to see the work done.” Emma seemed to be the spokeswoman for the group. “We do special orders for folks, too.”

“That’s great.” Fiona knew how stupid she sounded, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She’d assumed all Amish women were cloistered at home, taking care of their families, instead of out earning money. How much more didn’t she know about her mother’s people?

Ted strolled back toward her. “Could I have a moment of your time? I’ll walk out with you.”

She nodded, saying goodbye to the quilters, and preceded him toward the exit. When the door closed, its bell tinkling, he spoke before she could get a word out.

“I’d say if you want to have an Amish clientele for that practice of yours, you’ll have to stop looking at them like they’re animals in the zoo.”

“I didn’t!” But she probably had. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t realize anyone was back there.” How did the man always manage to put her in the wrong?

“Uh-huh.” He managed to infuse the syllables with such doubt that her embarrassment was swallowed up in anger. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him what had precipitated her behavior.

“Excuse me. I have things to do.” She turned, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Don’t you even want to know what I had to tell you?”

She gritted her teeth. Be polite, Fiona. “Of course. What is it?”

“The carpenters will be coming around in an hour or so. Try to get over your feelings about the Amish before then, will you?”

Before she could respond, he walked off across the street.

“Well, it’s not exactly what I expected.” Fiona cradled the cell phone against her ear with one hand and continued scrubbing the kitchen sink with the other. She might have to rub all the enamel off to get it clean.

“Better or worse?” Tracy Wilton, her closest friend from midwife training, sounded as if she were in the next room instead of three thousand miles away. “You could always come back, you know. They haven’t filled your job here yet.”

“I’m not sure whether it’s better or worse, but it’s definitely different.” She thought of Ted’s obvious doubt that she’d stick it out. “I’m staying, though. I’ll make it work.”

“I bet you will. Listen, if your practice gets too big for one person, just give me a call. Especially if you’ve found any great-looking men among those Pennsylvania Dutch farmers of yours.”

Fiona pushed an image of Ted Rittenhouse from her mind. “I’m not looking for any. Trust me. Getting my practice up and running is enough to occupy me for the moment. All I’m worried about right now is whether my money will hold out that long.”

A rap sounded on the front door, and she headed into the hallway. “Listen, Tracy, someone’s here. I’ll give you a call later, okay?”

“Okay. Take care.”

Fiona snapped off the phone as she swung the door open and saw what appeared to be a whole congregation of Amish men in black trousers and dark shirts filling her porch. She blinked against the late-afternoon sunlight and realized there were only four, surveying her silently.

What on earth?—and then she realized they had to be the carpenters Ted had said he’d send. The oldest man, his beard a snowy white, nodded gravely.

“I am Mose Stetler. Ted Rittenhouse said as how you are wanting some carpentry work done. Said you needed it in a hurry.”

“Yes, he told me he’d talked to you. I’m Fiona Flanagan.” She nodded to the men and held the door wide. “Please, come in. I’m glad you were able to come so soon.”

And a little surprised Ted hadn’t told them to forget about coming after their exchange earlier.

“Oh, we had to.” He jerked his head toward the youngest of the men, hardly more than a boy, with rounded cheeks above a rather straggly beard. “Young Aaron, here, he’ll be needing your services before long, won’t you, Aaron?”

The boy blushed, his prominent ears reddening. “My Susie…” He stopped, apparently embarrassed to actually say that his wife was expecting.

“Well, then, all the more reason to get my practice up and running. But I’ll be happy to talk to your wife anytime, even if my office isn’t ready.” She started to say the woman could phone her, and then realized that she couldn’t. “Just have her send a message if she’d like to talk.”

He bobbed his head, flushing when one of the other men said something to him in what sounded like German. She didn’t understand the words, but the teasing was obvious.

“So, now.” Mr. Stetler rubbed callused palms together. “You show me what you want done, and I will figure out a price.” His eyes twinkled. “A fair price. You’re one of us, after all.”

She blinked. Surely he couldn’t be referring to her mother. No one knew except the Flanagans. “One of you?”

“A resident, not a tourist,” he explained. Apparently tourists were fair game, but not someone who planned to live here.

She showed them over the downstairs, explaining what she needed. Mose made several helpful suggestions for the arrangement that she hadn’t thought of.

Finally he took out a stub of pencil and a scrap of paper and figured a price. She looked at the paper with a sense of relief. It was high, but she’d known it would be, with the cost of materials, and it was well within her budget.

“Fine. We have a deal. When can you start?”

Stetler beamed. “Right away. We do some measurements now, and then be back here at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent.”

By the time they’d finished up the measurements and were heading out the door, they were on a first-name basis, even with Aaron, the shy expectant father. She was just assuring him that he wasn’t going to feel a thing when one of the other men said something that made them all double over with laughter.

“He said unless Aaron’s wife hits him for getting her into that predicament.”

Somehow she wasn’t surprised to see Ted Rittenhouse standing by the porch, one large boot propped against the front step and a grin on his face.

“I’ll protect him,” Fiona shot back, her gaze challenging his. She’d let him see that she was getting along perfectly well with his Amish friends.

Ted nudged at the step with his boot. “Hey, Mose, you’d best put fixing this step at the top of your list.”

Mose nodded gravely. “Before you put your big foot through it, yes.” For some reason, everyone thought that was funny, and they all trooped off, laughing, toward the wagon and its patiently waiting horse.

She was very aware of Ted, standing silent beside her. When he didn’t speak, she realized there was something she had to say. She turned toward him, and found him watching her.

“Thank you very much for sending Mose and his crew over. I’m so relieved to have the project underway.”

“They’ll do a good job for you. And they’ll be honest about the price, too.”

She nodded. “I’m sure they will.” She hesitated, and then decided she’d better say the rest of what she’d been thinking. “You know, I thought maybe you’d change your mind and tell them not to come.”

He looked surprised. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, you weren’t exactly happy with me earlier.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d make things difficult for you. Maybe you have something to learn about folks around here.”

Those words might have been said snidely, but she couldn’t detect anything other than genuine concern in his voice. Concern, and perhaps even kindness.

“Maybe so.” She struggled to speak over the sudden lump in her throat. “This move is a big change in my life. I know I have to adjust some of my attitudes if I’m going to make a go of it here.”

His lips twitched in a slight smile. “You’ll be fine. You have something to offer. Just give yourself a chance. And give us one, too.”

The gentleness in his voice drew her. She looked up to find his intense gaze so focused on her face that it seemed to generate warmth. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t even seem to draw breath. Was it the afternoon sunlight dazzling her eyes, or was it the man?

And then he took a step back. It was hard to tell with that stolid face of his, but she had a feeling he felt just as shocked as she did.