Banner O'Brien (12 page)

“Speaking of that,” Maggie broke in, and there was irritation in her face and in the movements of her arms as she rolled out yet another circle of dough. “Are you going to be here tomorrow, or are you going to traipse off by yourself again?”

Instantly the festive humor was gone from Adam’s eyes. “I’ll leave in the morning, as usual,” he said sharply, rising to his feet and ignoring Banner. “Have the food ready.”

Maggie’s annoyance seemed to equal his, but she only nodded and vented her anger on the pie dough.

Adam turned and strode out of the kitchen, leaving
Banner to draw her own conclusions about his plans for Christmas.

When she next encountered him, in the ward, he was examining Clarence King’s hand for infection. Having done this repeatedly herself, Banner knew that the wound was healing cleanly. In fact, now that he was over the shock of being stabbed, Clarence could have been released and sent on his way. Probably Adam was only keeping him because it was Christmas and the young man had nowhere else to go.

Banner went to the front windows of the ward, which overlooked Port Hastings and the now quiet harbor, too proud to approach Adam and strike up a conversation.

Francelle and Melissa were in the yard, laughing and flinging balls of snow at each other, and their voices were like songs rising on the wintery air. For all their commotion, Banner barely saw or heard them. She was thinking of the woman Adam would visit tomorrow, the woman he would take food to. Was she beautiful? Did he love her?

Banner’s eyes stung, and she bit her lower lip. She must be very special, Adam’s woman, whoever she was, if he would leave such a wonderful home and family at Christmastide to spend time with her.

In the snowy distance, a steam whistle blew, and the sound mingled with the joyous laughter of Francelle and Melissa, all of it combining to make Banner feel lonesome.

She lifted her chin, however, and thought of Adam’s woman again. I will take him from you, she vowed. She, Banner O’Brien, who had never wanted another man to come into her life, let alone coveted someone else’s love.

“Shamrock?”

She turned, slowly, not wanting to face Adam now but knowing that she must. “How is Clarence’s hand?” she asked, quite unnecessarily.

Adam grinned and folded his arms across his broad chest, his head tilted to one side. “It’s mending nicely,” he answered, and his dark blue eyes caressed her with a sort of quiet humor. Had he somehow guessed what she was thinking?

Banner blushed a little, praying that he hadn’t. “It’s still snowing,” she observed with an inanity that made her hate herself before the words were out of her mouth.

The indigo eyes laughed at her, but gently. “Yes, Shamrock, it is indeed still snowing.” He reached into the inside pocket of his gray silk vest and withdrew an envelope. “Here. It’s a month’s salary.”

Banner’s eyes widened as she took the envelope; it was thick with currency. “I haven’t worked a month,” she reminded him, but her heart was stirring within her. After all, Christmas was but two days away and she would spend it here with this family and she had been despairing because she couldn’t bring even the smallest remembrance to show her caring for them.

Adam shrugged. “I think I can trust you not to run off before a month is out, can’t I, O’Brien?”

Banner tallied the money tucked into the envelope with as much subtlety as possible. There were five twenty-dollar bills—a hundred dollars! Merciful heavens, she’d have been lucky to earn that much in a year working on her own. “Isn’t this rather a lot, just for a month?”

Adam’s grin eased to a half-smile. “Not really, considering the rigors of a practice like this one. It’s been easy so far, O’Brien, but the first time this ward is filled and we’ve got patients howling in the outer office, you’ll be demanding a raise.”

Banner looked down at the money and thought of the pretty lace handkerchief she’d seen in the window of the general store—that would be perfect for Mrs. Corbin—and of the beautiful, leatherbound book of
days she wanted to buy for Melissa. Suddenly, her low spirits were dispelled.

“Take a few hours off,” Adam said, and this time she knew that he
was
reading her mind. “Jeff is around somewhere—I’m sure he could be persuaded to take you down to town.”

Banner rushed to get her cloak with such eagerness that Adam laughed. She turned at the opening of the walkway leading into the main part of the house, her color high. “Thank you,” she said.

Adam shrugged and turned away.

Jeff was in the parlor, supervising the placement of the towering, fragrant Christmas tree. A movement inside the lush boughs indicated the presence of someone else, too—Keith?

“The windows, damn it—in front of the
windows!”
barked Katherine Corbin’s second son.

Deliciously scented pine boughs moved, and Keith’s voice was recognizable, if muffled. “I can’t
see
the windows!” he retorted. “Will you just say ‘left’ or ‘right’?”

“Starboard,” instructed Jeff, with terse impatience.

The twelve-foot tree paused, then sidled a few inches to the right.
“Starboard,”
muttered the voice within. “This is the parlor, you idiot, not the decks of the
Sea Mistress!”

Banner had been enjoying the scene too much to betray her presence in the doorway, but a giggle escaped her and Jeff turned, grinning, his hands on his hips.

“Hello, Dr. O’Brien.”

“Am I in front of the blasted windows or not?” demanded the tree.

Banner laughed out loud, and her weary spirit soared. Somehow this simple spectacle had brought the joy of the season home to her. “Just a little to the left,” she said.

Obediently, the massive tree slid to the left, filling the huge, gracious room with its pitchy, festive scent as it went.

“Now?” implored Keith in baleful tones.

“Now,” confirmed Banner.

The tree rustled again as Keith came out, looking rumpled and patently annoyed. At the sight of Banner’s joy-flushed face, however, he flung a grin at Jeff and muttered, “Have you ever noticed that Adam always gets the best presents?”

Jeff nodded and just for a moment his Corbin-blue eyes were wistful.

Banner was puzzled by the cryptic exchange, but she didn’t explore the feeling. She wanted nothing to spoil the bright glow of the day. “Your brother told me,” she began, addressing Jeff, “that you might be willing to drive me to town. I want to do some shopping.”

Jeff executed a sweeping bow. “At your service, milady, I’ll have the carriage brought around.”

“The buggy would do,” said Banner, who was not accustomed to luxury.

“Not for you,” replied Jeff in a rumbling vibrato, as he caught her hand and suavely kissed it.

Keith rolled his eyes and then his gaze swung, warmly mischievous, to Banner. “Excuse my brother, please,” he enjoined her. “You see, Jeff sometimes gets his centuries confused. He changes, before our very eyes, from the captain of a modern ship to a swashbuckling pirate. Some of us even suspect that he swings from the rigging and stands at the end of the gangplank, brandishing a sword.”

“Go tend to your flock or something,” retorted Jeff out of the side of his mouth, his eyes never leaving Banner’s face. “There is a price, Dr. O’Brien, for my escorting you today.”

Banner knew better than to be alarmed; there was no danger in this man. At least, not to her. “And what is that?” she asked archly.

“You must let me buy your supper.”

“Done,” she agreed.

Keith elbowed his brother in the ribs as he passed. “I hope you’ve led a long and full life,” he told him mysteriously, and then he was gone.

Barely a quarter of an hour later, Banner was settled comfortably inside the family carriage, a bright plaid lap rug covering her legs. Jeff sat easily in the seat opposite hers, though the small space should have cramped him, considering his size.

They went first to Banner’s hotel, where she collected her best dress—a pale blue taffeta that had been packed away too long and needed pressing. When they had dropped the garment off at Wung Lo’s busy establishment, they went on to the general store.

Guessing, perhaps, that Banner wanted to shop alone, Jeff went off on business of his own.

The mercantile was well stocked, and heat radiated from a sizable stove in the back. The scents of spices, peppermint candy, saddle soap, and soot filled the place. On the yardage counter were bolts of bright silks mixed in among serviceable woolens, cambrics, and calicos. Enormous green pickles were sold from a barrel near the counter, and elegant dolls with china heads nodded between toy firewagons and tiny wicker baby carriages. Occasionally, a St. Nicholas dressed in the rough-spun clothing of a farmer or a millhand would come in to purchase one or two of the toys.

Banner explored at her leisure, dropping the planned handkerchief and the book of days into the basket slung over her arm, pondering an array of modestly priced perfumes until she found one she thought Maggie would like. After that, she selected books for Jeff and Keith and, following much study of the stock available, a pretty satin sachet for Jenny.

That left Adam.

Banner went back to the books, but none of them seemed right. Besides, she wondered if it was fitting to
give Dr. Corbin a gift at all, considering the way she felt about him.

But she had to, of course, if she was going to buy presents for all the others. Frowning, Banner traversed one aisle and then another, picking things up, putting them down.

“Problems?” interceded a masculine voice at her side as she paused before a display of toy Indian drums.

Banner turned, still musing, to look into the handsome, smiling face of Temple Royce. “Hello,” she said.

“Dr. Henderson tells me that you’ve joined Adam Corbin’s practice,” remarked Mr. Royce, and though he was still smiling, something disturbing lurked in the depths of his childlike brown eyes. “I must say, I was surprised to hear that.”

“Why?” asked Banner distractedly, wondering if a box of chocolates would be too intimate a gift for Adam, given the fact that such presents were usually exchanged by lovers.

“Adam isn’t an easy man to work with,” supplied Mr. Royce, raising one eyebrow.

Banner smiled. “No, he certainly isn’t. But he is a very good doctor, and I expect to learn rather a lot from him.”

A tiny muscle in Royce’s smooth-shaven cheek tightened, relaxed again. “Yes,” he said, after a long and rather unsettling pause. He turned his fine beaver hat in gloved hands and somehow managed to look elegant and uncomfortable, both at once.

“Is something wrong?” Banner asked.

There it was again, that discomforting smile. “No—of course not—it’s just that—well—”

“Yes?”

Mr. Royce assessed the sleeves of his tailored coat for snowflakes that had long since melted to glistening beads. “I would feel responsible, having brought you to Port Hastings myself, if anything—er—happened.”

“Such as?” prodded Banner, feeling slightly insulted but not knowing why.

Before the man could frame any sort of answer, halting or otherwise, Jeff returned, his powerful hands wedged into the pockets of his blue sea-captain coat. His collar was turned up and snow shimmered on his imposing shoulders and his eyes were angrily vigilent as they swept Banner’s companion.

“Royce,” he said, and whether the word was a greeting or a threat, Banner could not tell.

Temple smiled nervously. “Jeff,” he replied, with a nod of his head.

Jeff’s gaze swept to Banner’s face and softened. “Are you finished?” he asked.

Banner was careful to tilt her shopping basket so that he couldn’t see inside. She wanted his present to be a surprise. “Not yet. Could I have just a minute more?”

The great shoulders moved in a good-natured shrug. “I’ll wait,” he said, and as Banner walked away, she heard him speak, in a heated undertone, to Mr. Royce.

It was something she should have thought about, she knew, this thinly veiled hostility between her friend and the man who had persuaded her to come to Port Hastings in the first place, but with Adam’s gift still to be chosen, she had enough to consider.

Her attention was drawn back to the display of toy drums eventually, and in a rush of delicious daring, Banner selected the most colorful one for Adam, to commemorate the day they’d visited the Klallum camp.

Temple Royce had left the store, and Jeff remained at a discreet distance until Banner had made her purchases and the storekeeper had wrapped them all together in a length of heavy brown paper tied with twine.

While she waited just inside the front door, watching the snowfall and the brisk foot and wagon traffic in the road, Jeff made a purchase of his own. After tucking something into the pocket of his coat, he joined her.

It was but mid-afternoon, but Jeff gestured toward a dining establishment across the street as they went out. “Hungry?”

Banner was hungry since she hadn’t had lunch, but she was intent on claiming her taffeta dress from Wung Lo’s first. The next day, after the skating, there was to be a party, and she wanted to look nice, even though Adam wasn’t going to be there. Being a doctor, Banner knew that an emergency could come up at any moment and leave her with no time to recover her gown.

“I would like to stop at Wung Lo’s first, please,” she said.

Jeff nodded and offered his arm. “How well do you know Temple Royce?” he asked lightly as they made their way over the slick, crowded walks in the direction of the laundry.

“Not well, actually,” replied Banner, recalling the animosity she’d sensed between Jeff and Mr. Royce, back in the store. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“That is an understatement,” said Jeff, affably enough. He looked like an overgrown boy, with the snow gathering in his polished-honey hair. “Do you like him, Banner?”

She considered. “I hadn’t really thought about it, one way or the other. I’m indifferent, I guess.”

Banner had not realized that Jeff was tense. Now, as his body relaxed visibly, she did. “Good,” he said, and then they were at the door of Wung Lo’s and he was opening it for her.

The inside of that laundry was a cluttered, starchscented delight. Steam billowed from the washing vats behind the counter, and a machine for grinding rice made a great, festive clatter. On the shelves were packages of exotic tea, bags of rice, and bundles of clean, carefully wrapped laundry.