Ginny Aiken (31 page)

He sought her gaze and caught his breath. Lamplight fell on her braided crown, catching the strands of gold among the richer brown hair and giving her a regal bearing. Her eyes blazed, and her cheeks bloomed the same shade of rose as her lips. And she was furious.

Why did he anger her so much? And why did he lose his temper with her? Was the attraction between them to blame? Or did his fear for her come out as rage, just as his fear for Steven had the day they nearly ran him down? Honesty nudged him with the truth. He didn’t want to face it.

Yet he must. While he admired Letty’s fiery response each time they argued, ever since she’d accused him of casting her in the same light as Martina, he’d used their arguments as an excuse. He wanted to push her away, and their differences provided him with fragile but effective protection against her appeal.

He had to maintain that barrier. Especially if all it took was keeping his opinions to himself.

“I challenge you,” she said, breaking into his thoughts, “to give Daisy a chance to prove herself. If your newspaper suffers from her presence, I’ll make restitution for your loss. Since you
know how few means I have, you’ll also know that I’m confident she’ll please you with her work.”

“Enough, Letty. Go home. Take the girl with you. Ford will let you know our decision.”

She measured his words and his expression. Whatever she found there must have reassured her. On her way out, she added, “You won’t regret hiring her. I guarantee it.”

The scent of violets remained in the room after she’d left. Eric breathed in, enjoying its freshness. Everything about Letty pleased him. Well, not her mulishness, but certainly everything else.

And he couldn’t pursue such pleasures.

“Ford!” he yelled.

When the reporter appeared, he wore a besotted expression.

“Dare I request an explanation?”

Ford’s glasses flew off again. He dropped to his knees, crept under the desk, and retrieved the eyepiece. A grunt escaped his lips when he hit his head on the chair.

“Of course,” he finally said, setting his spectacles on his nose. “I told you last week. We need more help, someone who can type and is organized. You agreed and even ordered another machine. Daisy is perfect.”

Eric cocked an eyebrow. “Are you aware of her former trade?”

A harsh look appeared on Ford’s youthful features. “I am, and like you, I hate it. I hate everything about it, but I like her.”

“Enough to behave foolishly because of her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to risk your reputation?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to fall in love?”

Ford faced him, uncommon gravity in his expression. “Afraid so, Eric. The Lord does call us to show compassion.”

Eric recognized his reporter’s maturity. “What power women wield to make fools of us men.”

“And we help them, but God—”

“How goes it with the Swartleys?” he asked, turning away.

Ford sighed. “Everyone knows Slosh sold out to them and died making merry. Beyond that, you and I appear to be the only ones who suspect they have outside backing.”

“So there’s nothing new.”

“Nothing.”

“We just need something, anything, with which to pin them.”

“What we need, Eric, is help.”

“Yes, of course, but whose?”

As Ford visibly struggled to contain a response, Eric returned to his desk. “You’ll have to cover the upcoming Silver Celebration. The workmen are already building the dais for the speakers on Main Street. This leg won’t let me do much.” Turning to his calendar, he added, “Plans are for the second week in June.”

Ford glanced at the notes. “Everyone is pitching in, and the town means to have itself one bang-up party.”

“And the
Hartville Day
will cover every minute of it.”

On the sidewalk outside the newspaper, Letty didn’t know whether to rail against Eric’s stubbornness or to give thanks for Ford’s infatuation with Daisy. The girl now stood a chance of supporting herself by decent means.

Letty turned to Daisy. “Why don’t you return Prince to the livery? I have some thinking to do, and on a sunny day like today, I’d rather walk.”

Fearful of meeting Hartville’s folks under normal circumstances, Daisy hadn’t strayed from the shelter of the parsonage and Letty’s house. Knowing the girl had to make a place for herself, Letty refused to let her put off a first step.

“Well . . . I . . . oh, Doc, you have that look about you. Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”

Surprised that Daisy had so easily read her, Letty said, “No.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Letty shook her head.

After climbing into the buggy, Daisy tugged on Prince’s reins. “If I have any trouble, you’ll hear all about it.”

Letty agreed, glad for Daisy’s spark of bravado. The girl seemed well on her way to healing, head held high, shoulders straight and proud.
Father,
she prayed,
give me the words, the chance to introduce her to You
.

God had worked a miracle in Daisy’s life. Now, if He would just help Letty heal her tattered heart. How would she care for the Patterson children now that they lived at Eric’s ranch? How would she deal with the chance of meeting him anywhere she went? She was strong, but this, this was too much.

Oh, the irony of it. After being told most of her life that she would never attract a man because of her unwomanly career, she had attracted a man despite the career, only to lose him because of her womanly need to mother children he viewed differently than she did.

Yet matters were more complicated than that. Their differences were a symptom of a deeper malady. Haunted by undue guilt over his wife’s death, Eric wanted to assume responsibility for Letty. He believed her actions jeopardized her just as Martina’s refusal to avail herself of medical care had endangered her. Until he recognized Martina’s responsibility in her death and Letty’s responsibility for her actions, there was little she could do. She couldn’t overcome something Eric had to master himself.

More important still, until Eric accepted God’s forgiveness and forgave himself, they had no future.

As she neared the church, someone called her name.

“Mrs. Tilford!” she exclaimed. “What a pleasure.”

In a costume of purple tweed, the gray-haired lady bustled up and clasped Letty’s hand. “How have you been?”

“Busy.”

“More likely
too
busy,” Hubert Tilford reproved. He then grasped his wife’s elbow and tugged. “Come now, Agatha, this is unseemly.”

The bewildered Mrs. Tilford looked at her husband. When comprehension struck, her mouth formed a perfect
O.
She dropped her black bag on the wooden sidewalk and then looked down as if wondering what to do.

Letty solved the dilemma by gathering the purse and handing it to its owner. When she sought Mrs. Tilford’s gaze, the lady averted her face. “G—good day, Dr. Morgan,” she stammered and hurried after her spouse.

Letty felt the blood drain from her face. She’d lived through similar scenes in Philadelphia, but this time was worse. The people of Hartville had welcomed her with open arms until her career and her faith had demanded actions that offended their sensibilities.

They’d rejected her as a doctor. They’d disdained her as a potential mother, too. Yet Eric’s betrayal hurt most. At his side she’d truly felt feminine, wanted, a whole woman at last, but one he wouldn’t love.

She wondered how soon her practice would dwindle to nothing. Would she be left destitute because of her convictions? Would she have to uproot and move elsewhere? Would leaving be easier than seeing Eric everywhere she went?

What about the girls?
her conscience asked.
What about the Pattersons?

She looked up at the sky, knowing God had heard her, even if He hadn’t answered yet. “I will not run away, Eric Wagner. Children depend on me. And the hypocrites can continue to entertain sin!”

More determined than ever, she walked into her house, where Daisy had already arrived.

“I’ll be out for a bit longer,” she told the girl. “Would you like to stay and practice some more?”

Daisy gave the water glass in her hand a final swipe with a dish towel. “Could I, Doc?”

“Of course. I must look in on the Pattersons.”

Daisy’s gaze skittered away, as it did each time Letty mentioned the children. She sensed Daisy knew something about them, but she didn’t know how to ask without scaring the girl away.

Setting her speculations aside, she retrieved her medical bag. “One never knows when those scamps might need treatment.”

“You love them, don’t you?”

Sweet sensations unfurled in Letty’s heart. “Yes, I do. I wish . . .”

Wisdom showed in Daisy’s eyes. “You wish they were yours, don’t you? That you could keep them?”

“If this were a perfect world, then indeed those five would be mine. And you would as well.”

Daisy’s cheeks colored. “Really?”

“Really,” Letty answered, tears misting her eyes. Seeing Daisy’s uncertainty, she opened her arms wide.

The girl rushed to claim the love Letty offered. “Oh, Doc.”

They held each other. Then, like a child, Daisy sniffled and backhanded her tears. Letty smiled. Helping this child out of the mess her life had become was one of the finest things she’d ever done. Scripture never failed. When it said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me,” it spoke God’s truth. Her actions had blessed her as much as they had Daisy.

“I must be on my way now,” Letty said, giving the girl one final hug. “Otherwise I’ll be late getting back home. Will you still be here? Or are you due at the manse soon?”

As if the sentiment they’d shared abashed her, Daisy hesitantly said, “I’ll be here . . . if you’ll have me.”

“Couldn’t be better, my dear. Not one bit better for me.”

On her way to the livery, Letty sang her praise to the Lord until a strident female voice cut through her joy.

“Bold as brass and walking down Main Street with not a care in the world,” Emmaline Whitehall proclaimed.

Letty squared her shoulders and waited for Emmaline’s further assault.

Emmaline obliged. “Fraternizing with tarts! Such disgrace you’ve brought upon yourself. Not to mention the smirch your scandalous behavior has brought down on Eric Wagner.”

“Enough, Miss Whitehall,” Letty said. “Consider that there, but for the grace of God, go you. If you hadn’t had a family to love and protect you, you might have been forced to resort to questionable means to support yourself.”

Emmaline turned puce. “Jezebel! And to think I helped prepare for your arrival. I’ve never regretted anything so much. My poor cousin must be spinning in her grave, seeing how you’ve besotted her husband with your loose ways.”

Letty’s curiosity curbed her anger. “Your cousin?”

“Martina would never have lowered herself to the level where you wallow, madam. She was a lady, and Eric worshiped her. Don’t think I haven’t seen you gawp at him, all cow-eyed and simpering. I know you covet him, but you’ll never win his heart. You’re only fit for the same as your floozy friends.”

Although she should have been immune to such an accusation, Letty couldn’t hold at bay the misery that cut through her. She felt ill wondering if Eric agreed with Emmaline. Did he see her as a temptation that could destroy him, like the woman he believed had ruined his father?

At least she now understood how Emmaline, the one who had hosted a suffragist who spoke of free love, could oppose a doctor who treated adolescent soiled doves. Emmaline feared Letty would usurp her cousin’s rightful place, and she fell far short of the standards Martina had established.

Emmaline’s hate-filled stare made Letty wince. “I regret your cousin’s untimely death,” she said sincerely, “but I have no aspirations
to the position of Mr. Wagner’s wife. I’m not the woman to marry Er—Mr. Wagner.”

Letty clenched her hands, unnerved by her near slip. Emmaline would have pounced and made the most of it. “You needn’t fear me,” she added. “I’m a doctor and in Hartville for that purpose, not to displace Martina in Eric’s affections.”

Too late she realized she’d said his name. Emmaline’s eyes narrowed. She sniffed and stalked down the street. “A likely story,” she muttered.

Letty stood frozen to the spot, unable to do more than gasp for air. She made herself put foot before foot and pace the distance to the livery. Thoughts, snatches of conversations, darted through her mind. Her mother’s criticisms, Mr. Forrest’s rejection, Emmaline’s indictment, even Eric’s warnings coalesced into a jigsaw picture of her, Dr. Letitia Morgan. Physician, healer, woman. The wrong woman for the man she loved.

She was glad she’d decided to call on the Pattersons today. It gave her something to do, something productive to prove she hadn’t erred by following her conscience. She hadn’t been the proper daughter Mother wanted, nor was she the delicate creature Martina had been. It would seem she’d done well to train as a physician.

She clambered into her buggy and forced all thought of Eric, Martina, Mother, and her failings from her mind. Instead, she thought of all she’d accomplished during her time in Hartville.