Family of the Heart (20 page)

“H
mm, the bruise looks better. Still have a hard lump here above your hip bone though.”

The doctor’s fingers prodded his flesh. “Ugh.” Clayton scowled, gritted his teeth.

“Still tender, eh? How’s the head?”

“Fine. No pain at all.”

“Good, good.” Dr. Parker moved toward the foot of the bed. “You say you can lift your foot now?”

“Yes.” Clayton braced himself for the test that was coming.

“Lift it up.”

He held his breath, lifted his left foot, held it there, muscles quivering, until the doctor nodded.

“Good. You are doing better than I expected.”

The doctor gave him an assessing look. Clayton relaxed his clenched jaw, smiled—though he feared it was closer to a grimace.

“Think you can swing your legs over and sit on the edge of the bed?”

“Doc, if it will get me out of this bed, I will do a somersault.”

Dr. Parker chuckled, moved up closer to the head of the bed. “All right, then…easy now.”

It took everything he had, but Clayton managed to move his legs to the side of the bed and hang them over the edge. He gave the doctor a crooked grin. “Victory.”

Dr. Parker grinned back and gave him a clap on the shoulder that almost toppled him from the bed. “You’re as tough as your father was, Clay. Now where is that cane your grandpap used when his rheumatism outdid his stubborn?”

Clayton’s heart leaped. “In the cupboard by the fireplace—leaning in the back corner.”

The doctor nodded, walked to the cupboard and got the cane. “I’ll have your word that if I let you out of bed, you will not try it on your own. You only get up when Quincy is about to help you. A fall could do you a lot of harm.”

“I understand.”

“All right, then. Put your hands on my shoulders, brace your weight on me, and slide forward till your feet touch the floor. Good thing you got them long Bainbridge legs. You could never navigate them bed steps with a cane.”

Clayton did as ordered. His leg threatened to collapse under him when he stood, but he willed it to hold.

“Rest a bit, then we will walk to the chair there by the window—one step at a time, and rest in between.”

It took four steps with Dr. Parker’s help to cover what was normally one stride for him, but he made it.

“Rest a few minutes, son, then we will get you back in—”

“Doc! Doc!” A boy burst in the room, laboring for breath.

“What is it, Willy?”

“It’s Pa…he fell out the…haymow. He ain’t movin’. Ma said I should…come fetch you back with me.”

“Sorry, Clay, I have to go.” The doctor picked up his bag, slapped on his hat and hurried for the door. “I’ll tell Eldora to send Quincy up to help you back to bed.”

Footsteps clattered down the stairs. Clayton blew out a breath and stared at the bed, which suddenly looked a mile away. Quincy had gone to help Zach Miller with a sick mare. And there was no telling when he would be home. He looked down at the cane in his hand and shook his head. “Looks as if it is you and me, Grandpa.”

“Mr. Bainbridge.”

Sarah.
Clayton looked up, heart pounding. She was standing in the doorway to the winder stairs landing.

“Quincy is away, I have come to help you back to bed.”

He stared, drinking in the sight of her—her slender form, her beautiful face, her light-brown hair piled high on the crown of her head. His mouth went taut, the knuckles on his hand gripping the cane went white. He was starved for her presence, and a man had only so much strength. He had already proven he was weak, and if he put his arm around her…He breathed deep, shook his head. “You are too slight, Miss Randolph. Your strength is insufficient.”

She stared at him. His heart thudded, his pulse roared through his veins. He forced himself to look away, focused on her hand gripping the door latch. Remembered the soft warmth of it in his.

“We do not know when Quincy will return.”

He nodded, stared down at his hand on the cane. “Nonetheless, I will wait. You may return to Nora.” He put dismissal in his voice.

“Very well.”

Her skirts rustled softly. The sound drew nearer. The scalloped hem of her dark-blue gown brushed against his leg. He clenched his jaw, stared at the cane.

“Here is the bell.” There was a clang as she placed it on the chest beneath the window beside him. “Should Quincy tarry, and you tire, I will be in the garden with Nora.”

Her skirt billowed, disappeared from his view. He kept his gaze fixed on the cane until he heard her going down the stairs. When he heard the murmur of voices from the kitchen, he put his free hand on the chest, tightened his grip on the cane and pushed to his feet. His left leg quivered. He took his weight on his right leg, set his jaw and moved the cane forward.
Well, this is it. Sorry, Doc. I have no choice.
He let go of the chest, shifted his weight onto the cane, swung his left leg forward, and stepped forward with his right. He paused, stood there on his right leg, using the cane and his weak left leg for balance, and rested. One step accomplished—three to go.

“Diphtheria.”
James Randolph stopped pacing and looked at his parents. “I shall leave for Cincinnati immediately and bring Sarah home.”

“No, James.” Elizabeth smiled at the son, who was so like his father, but made her voice firm. “Your father and I agreed that we would trust Sarah to the Lord’s care.”

“So I did, Elizabeth, but diphtheria…” Justin Randolph scowled, clasped his hands behind his back and rocked forward on his toes. “I agree with James, I think we have to get Sarah out of that city.”

Elizabeth shook her head, tapped the letter in her hand. “Sarah says the epidemic is on the wane. And time has already passed since she wrote the letter. By the time James arrived the epidemic would be over and all danger would have passed. And Sarah is needed to care for the little girl and, now, to nurse Mr. Bainbridge.”

Justin’s scowl darkened. “Common sense—most frustrating at a time like this. But, you are right, my love—” his scowl turned to a smile “—as usual.”

“I could go to Cincinnati and care for the toddler.” Mary cast a hopeful look at her father. “That will ease Sarah’s burden. And I am good with children. Aunt Laina says so.”

“No, Mary.” Justin’s voice was firm. “It is good of you to be concerned for your sister, but one daughter so far away is enough. You will stay here. Though your idea is a good one. I will send Ellen back.”

Elizabeth looked at him.

Justin gave an exasperated growl. “You know how Sarah sickens at sight of the slightest injury, Elizabeth. Ellen can nurse the man and—”

“And destroy what the Lord may be doing, not only in Sarah’s life, but in Mr. Bainbridge’s and the child’s, as well?” Elizabeth placed her hand on her husband’s arm, looked at her children. “I know you all want to protect and help Sarah—as do I. But can you not see, bringing her home or easing her burden would be doing her a disservice.”

“Mother, you always think the Lord is in everything that happens to one of us.” Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes things simply happen.”

Elizabeth eyed her daughter. “Mary, Sarah, our
Sarah,
is nursing Mr. Bainbridge. She has cleansed his wound, and cared for him day and night. And she is caring for the child, as well, because there is no other to assume the tasks. And she is praying for Mr. Bainbridge’s recovery and asks us to pray for him. And to continue praying that God would unite father and daughter. You do not see the Lord’s hand in all of that?”

Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes. “Sarah is
praying.
She is returning to her faith. And I believe the Lord—in His own mysterious way—is answering her prayers. And ours. And those of Mr. Bainbridge’s housekeeper and her husband. ‘
Grant it, O Lord
.’” She laughed in sheer delight at the story Sarah had related in her letter, of Eldora’s attitude and prayer. “Sarah is furious with the two of them. And, I believe, it is because she has growing feelings for Mr. Bainbridge and is frightened by them. But that will pass when the Lord has His way.”

Elizabeth looked at her family, saw agreement in her husband’s eyes, doubt in James’s, and rebellion in Mary’s.
If only you could deposit your own faith in your children.
She sighed and continued her explanation. “I see God’s hand very clearly in this situation. I believe He has used the unfortunate circumstances of Sarah’s grief over Aaron, Mr. Bainbridge’s accident and the diphtheria epidemic to force them and the child into a…a
cocoon
of closeness that can bring about healing for them all.” She looked up at her husband. “Would you send Ellen to free Sarah from her nursing duties and perchance destroy what the Lord is doing?”

Sarah grabbed her straw hat, plunked it on her head and hurried down the winder stairs. She had listened to Nora’s chatter and Clayton’s deep-voiced responses long enough. She would follow his suggestion and go for a walk.

She stepped out into the kitchen, redolent with the scents of a meal in progress, and strode to the door. “I am going for a walk, Eldora. I shall return shortly.”

“No need t’ hurry.” The housekeeper buried her hands in the ball of dough on the table and pushed. “Now that Lucy’s back, she can answer the bell and take care of things.”

Yes. So I have been told.
Sarah nodded and stepped outside. Rays of golden light beamed down from a sun riding high in a cloud-dotted, bright-blue sky. A breeze whispered through the air to rustle treetops. It was a perfect summer day.

She walked out the gravel way, glanced at the town and turned to follow the road up the hill. She was in no mood for people. She wanted to throw stones across a pond and cause the smooth, serene surface to splash and ripple. What she
really
wanted was to cause a ripple on Mr. Clayton Bainbridge’s serene countenance. The man had no emotions! Except when it came to Nora.

Sarah slowed her ground-eating pace. It was amazing how Clayton had changed about his daughter. He spent time with her every morning and afternoon. And Nora loved being with her papa. And she was happy for Nora. She truly was. She was thrilled the little girl had her father’s love and attention. It was only…Only nothing!

She glanced at the road ahead and turned down the path to Clayton’s private place. She settled her straw hat firmly on her head and stayed as far away from the thornapple trees as possible. Tears filmed her eyes. She hurried past the spot where she had become entangled—where Clayton had freed her—and broke out into the open glade. The pond glistened in the sunshine, peaceful and calm. She gathered a few stones, walked to the large boulder and sat down. All desire to throw a stone into the smooth surface disappeared. She turned the stones over in her hand, studying the coloring and veining that made each unique.

Why was she excluded from Clayton’s time with Nora? Why did he now call on Lucy if he had a need? He had banished her from his life. What had she done to make him so repulsed by her presence? And why did it matter so much?

Sarah lifted her gaze and stared at the water. Perhaps it was time to think about going home. She had accomplished her goal. Not the one for herself—she had come to escape grief and now suffered a greater hurt—but she had accomplished the purpose she had found on her arrival. Clayton loved his daughter. Nora had her papa. Yes. Perhaps it was time to go home.

She sighed, rose and walked to the water’s edge. As soon as Clayton was completely healed and his life had returned to normal she would tell him she wanted to go back to Philadelphia. She would wait until then. For even though he no longer had need of her care and did not desire her company, she could not bear to go until she knew he was all right.

Tears flowed down her cheeks. Sarah dropped the stones into the water, lifted her hands and wiped them away. But still they came, faster and faster as the hurt in her heart grew and spread like the ripples on the water. She was unable to stem the tears, unable to restrain the sobs that burst from her throat in broken gasps. What had happened to her? She did not want to go back home. Did not want to leave Stony Point—or Eldora and Quincy. And Nora. Oh, how could she endure to leave Nora? And—

Sarah caught her breath, refusing to think further, to give words to the ache in her heart. She looked down and studied the stones at her feet, picked up a small, smooth gray one and clasped it tight in her hand. It was a fitting symbol of Stony Point. She would keep it with her always. And whenever she looked at it she would remember.

“H
ere is the thread you asked for, Eldora. And I have something else for you.” Sarah handed the housekeeper a paper-wrapped parcel.

“A present?” Eldora frowned. “There ain’t no reason for buying presents.” She picked up a knife and cut the string.

Only that I will soon be leaving.
“I know, but I saw it in Mrs. Avis’s store window and—” Sarah stopped at the housekeeper’s gasp. “I hope you like it. I thought it would look lovely with your gray church dress.”

Eldora lifted the black knit shawl out of the paper, fingered the wide lace edging. “I ain’t never had nothing so fine as this.”

“Then it is time you did.” Sarah smiled at Eldora’s pleasure. It took some of the sadness away. “And here is something for Quincy.” She handed her a penknife with a bone grip. “I know little of such things, but I am assured by Mr. Jackson that it is a knife of finest quality. I hope Quincy will find it useful.”
And that you will both remember me when I am gone.

“Oh, my.” The housekeeper turned the knife over in her hands, looked up. “Sarah, what—”

“Me gots a puppy!”

Sarah looked toward the door as Nora burst into the kitchen. Her gaze met Clayton’s. He stopped in the doorway. She jerked her gaze to Nora, knelt to catch the excited toddler in her arms. “What is this?”

The toddler threw her arms about her neck and squeezed. “Papa gots me a puppy!” She leaned back, grabbed her fingers in her small hand and tugged. “Come see!”

“I would like to, sweetie, but…” She looked toward the door. Clayton was gone. And Eldora was watching. She fixed her mouth in a smile and kept her eyes down so the housekeeper could not read the hurt in them. “All right. I will come see your puppy.” She took Nora’s hand and walked outside.

“Hurry, Nanny!”

Sarah’s throat closed at the feel of Nora’s small hand tugging at hers. Tomorrow it would end forever. She blinked back tears. Everything she did today was so hard, so…devastating…because it was for the last time. There was no more clanging bell to be answered. Clayton was fully recovered. He had returned to his work on the Miami Canal last week. She had waited until she was sure he would not do himself harm, but it was only an excuse to delay her departure. Clayton was fine. It was time for her to go. Leaving would be excruciating, but staying was unendurable.

Sarah focused on the business at hand, lifted the bar and opened the carriage-house door. A small black-and-white bundle of fur barked and came running, tail wagging, ears flopping up and down. Nora plopped to the floor, giggling and squealing as the puppy jumped up and down licking her face and tugging on her hair.

Sarah closed the door so the dog could not escape and walked over to the horses. Pacer nickered a welcome, tossed his head and thrust it forward to be petted. She rubbed his silky muzzle and combed her fingers through his forelock. It was always tangled. He lowered his head and nudged her chest. She stepped back to keep her balance and something attacked her exposed ankle.

Sarah leaned down and scooped up the gray kitten who had flopped onto his back and was batting at her skirt hem. He was big enough to do damage now. She tucked him under her chin and scratched behind his ears. He purred his contentment. She reached out and patted Sassy’s neck, then sat on the feed chest and stroked the kitten’s fur. Wiggles was her favorite. Perhaps she would get a kitten when she went home.

Home. Not Randolph Court. Not anymore. Stony Point was her home. Her heart squeezed tears into her eyes. She wiped them away and held her breath to stop the flow. She would cry tomorrow. Today she must stay calm for Nora’s sake. She fixed a smile on her face.

“What is your puppy’s name, Nora?”

The toddler shrugged her shoulders.

“You have not named him? Well, that will not do. How will you call him to you if he has no name?” She put Wiggles down, walked over to Nora and lifted the puppy into the air to better see his face. He wiggled and twisted his body, trying to reach her cheek with his tongue. “What a rogue you are.” She put him back in Nora’s lap. “You could name him Scamper…or perhaps Trouble.”

“Uh-uh.” Nora shook her head, grinned up at her. “He be Rogue.”

Sarah looked down at the toddler sitting on the dusty, straw-strewn barn floor, holding a wiggling puppy in her pudgy arms, and memorized the picture she made. Every detail, from the bits of straw in her golden curls, to her happy smile, to the smudge of dirt on the stockings covering the short little legs sticking out from under the yellow-checked cotton play dress. This was the image she would remember when she thought of Nora in the years to come.

Sarah straightened the books and rearranged the stuffed animals that sat neglected on the shelf. Nora had lost interest in them since she was now free of the confines of this room and could go outside and play with live animals.

She turned and glanced around. So much had changed since she first walked into this room and was greeted by a harried young maid and a squalling toddler.
She
had changed. And she could not go back to simply being a pampered daughter in her parents’ house. When she returned to Philadelphia she would work full-time at the Twiggs Manor Orphanage. Her aunt Laina would be glad of the help. And there were always so many children in need, it would keep her too busy to dwell on memories. Her shoulders drooped. It seemed all she did was run from memories.

Sarah swallowed back a rush of tears and walked to the dressing room to check her appearance. It was time. Delaying the moment of truth only increased the agony. She brushed a few stray hairs into place, pinched some color into her pale cheeks and headed for the hallway door.

It seemed strange to use the main stairs. She had become accustomed to using the winder stairs that opened directly into the kitchen. They were much more convenient when Clayton was ill and she had carried food trays up and down at every meal.

A strip of golden lamplight gleamed under Clayton’s study door. He was still working. Sarah stopped, gripped the railing and held her breath for a count of ten. It helped. She continued down the last few steps, lifted her hand and knocked on his door.

“Come in!”

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away and lifted her chin.
Almighty God, please help me not to cry. Please. I know pride is a sin, but right now it is the only weapon I have to keep my feelings from being revealed.
It was a prayer unlikely to be answered, but it still made her feel better. She squared her shoulders and opened the door.

“Put the—” Clayton glanced up, rose from his chair, snatched his jacket off the back and shoved his arm into the sleeve. “Sorry, I thought you were Eldora with my coffee.” He shoved in his other arm and shrugged the jacket into place on his broad shoulders.

She did her best to ignore the frown furrowing his forehead. And his eyes. Though she need not have bothered. He seemed not to want to look at her. Well, she would be out of his life soon enough. “Forgive me for disturbing your work.”

“Not at all. I was going to talk with you when my report was finished.”

How ironic if he was about to dismiss her. Well, he would not do so!
Sarah clenched her hands at her sides and dug her fingernails into her palms. “I have come to tell you I wish to return home to Philadelphia—immediately.” She took a breath, dug her fingernails in deeper. “Lucy can care for Nora until you can hire another nanny.”
Thank You, Lord. I said it without breaking down.
“I will leave tomorrow.” She stared up at Clayton. His face had that stony look again.

“I am afraid that is impossible, Miss Randolph.” He looked down, straightened his suit coat. “I believe I once mentioned to you that the fourth of this month is the tenth anniversary of the opening of the Miami Canal. And that as the engineer in charge of the repair work, I am to accompany the governor on a gala celebration trip up the canal to Dayton aboard a specially outfitted packet.” He looked up. “If you remember, I told you, the governor has requested that all those accompanying him bring their families along, and that provision has been made for young children and their nannies.”

So once again he was forced to accept her presence. “I thought Lucy—” She stopped, stared at the muscle twitching along his jaw.

“Lucy is not capable of this undertaking.” He picked up a book from his desk, turned and placed it atop the pile on the mantel. “The journey will take two days. You will need to include bedclothes for Nora in your packing. Please have everything ready by tomorrow afternoon. Directly after supper tomorrow night, Quincy will transport everything to the packet. We will board at nine o’clock the following morning.”

Sarah stood staring at his rigid back, torn by the conflicting needs of her heart. She should refuse. She should leave tomorrow as she had planned and end the torture of being where she was not wanted. But she could not go away knowing Nora was on a
boat.
A canal boat to be sure, but still a boat surrounded by water. She shuddered. “Very well. I will do as you ask. But I will have my possessions packed, and I will leave for Philadelphia as soon as we come back to Stony Point.” She turned and left his study, the curt nod of agreement he gave her stuck like a sword in her heart.

Nora was beside herself, trying to see everything at once. It was her first ride in the buggy, her first trip away from Stony Point, and she peppered Sarah and her father with questions. Sarah welcomed them. The short ride seemed endless.

“Here we are.” The buggy rolled to a stop. Clayton stepped down and held out his arms. “Come here, Nora.” The toddler leaned into his arms, stared wide-eyed at the commotion at the boarding site, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Clayton shifted Nora to one arm and offered his hand.

Sarah steeled herself and placed hers in it. It was as she remembered, broad and warm, with calluses on the pads of the long fingers—but strong. Not flaccid and weak now, but so very strong.
She should have worn gloves.
She looked away from their joined hands, stepped from the buggy and held her arms out for Nora.

Clayton yielded his daughter to her, placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her through the crowd of people milling around a bandstand where a man was holding forth on a topic that was lost in the din. He urged her toward a packet boat decked out in red, white and blue streamers, with a large yellow banner that read Miami Canal—Ten-Year Anniversary, stretched along the pristine white railing that enclosed the open deck. A broad boarding plank slanted upward from the ground, spanned the narrow space of water between the packet and the docking area and continued its climb to the packet’s deck.

Sarah’s steps faltered. Her stomach knotted. She stopped walking and stared down at the water, felt the blood draining from her face, the strength leaving her legs. “Take Nora.” The words were a whisper, forced from her constricted throat.

“No. She is your charge, Miss Randolph. And ‘you are not so selfish as to put your fear above her needs’—are you?”

The challenge in Clayton’s voice firmed her will. “No. I am not.” Sarah lifted her chin, flashed a look up at him and stepped onto the gangplank.

He lowered his head. “Close your eyes. I will guide you. I promise, I’ll not let you fall. You are safe with me.”

His whisper fell soft upon her ear. His hand pressed more firmly against the small of her back, drew her ever so slightly closer to his side. It was amazing the courage his touch gave her. She braced herself against her response to his touch, to his nearness and hurried up the gangplank.

The courage left the moment she stepped onboard and felt the slight movement of the deck beneath her feet. She closed her eyes.
Help me, O God. Take away—

“Bainbridge! I have been watching for you.”

Sarah snapped her eyes open at the hail. A short, stout man, wearing a gray suit with a brocaded, maroon vest, separated himself from a small group of men on the forward open deck area and hurried toward them.

“Good morning, Commissioner Thomas.” Clayton smiled and shook the man’s offered hand. “It looks as though we will have fine weather for our trip.”

“Indeed. Yes.”

The man skimmed his gaze over her, lingered for a moment on her face. Did her fear show? She lifted her chin. He flushed and focused his gaze on Nora.

“Is this your child, Bainbridge?”

Clayton nodded. “This is my daughter, Nora, yes. And—”

“Beautiful child.” The man clapped Clayton on the shoulder. “We have to hurry, Bainbridge. The governor wants you with him when he speaks, and he is about to begin.” He turned toward the front deck area, filled with people, then turned back. “Have your nanny get the child settled. Little ones get restless at these sort of ceremonies—and we will be on our way after the governor’s speech.” He gave her a cursory glance. “The children and nanny quarters are that way.” He pointed toward the narrow deck that ran along the left side of the centered cabin area.

Sarah glanced over the side of the boat at the water, caught her breath.

Clayton stepped to the outside edge of the narrow deck. His broad shoulders blocked her view of the water.

“I wish to see my daughter settled, Commissioner. I will join you in a moment.”