Ginny Aiken (6 page)

He’d let her see too much. It shouldn’t have happened. He couldn’t let her care for him. He couldn’t let himself care for her. Now he recognized the trap he’d set for himself when he’d offered her friendship. Even for friendship one needed to invest emotion, and that price was too high.

The best thing would be to leave, but Eric didn’t have it in him to hurt her. Letty had given him silent comfort when he’d needed it. So he settled for treating her like the businesswoman she was. No more, no less.

He retrieved his hand and took up the hammer again, but the silence grew uncomfortable, and Eric knew he had to diffuse the tension. “Why homeopathy and not allopathy?” he asked. “Why would you choose to provide what some consider outmoded treatments?”

Letty straightened as if bitten by a rattler. “I happen to agree with Dr. Hahnemann, homeopathy’s ‘discoverer.’ A doctor must treat the patient, not the disease. Our remedies stimulate the patient’s natural powers of healing, while allopaths use harsh treatments to battle the disease itself. Large quantities of harmful substances aren’t necessary. An infinitesimal dose of the right remedy will stir the body to heal itself.”

He’d known he would get a response, but he hadn’t bargained for a lecture on the principles of homeopathy. Before Eric could change topics, Letty began pacing, her cheeks bright with enthusiasm, energetic hand gestures punctuating her discourse.

“We treat symptoms, since they reflect the body’s general condition. By studying those symptoms, we identify the remedy that most closely causes the same reaction in a healthy body and then prescribe its minimal dose. Although we don’t understand why, a greater dilution of a substance is more efficacious.”

Eric stared trouble in the face. Any minute now, obscure medical terminology would start flying around the room. How could he stop the flow of knowledge?

Business. He had, after all, decided to keep their acquaintance on that level. “How do you plan to reach patients in outlying areas?”

Her pacing stopped. “I’ll need a horse and buggy, won’t I? Do you know where I might buy them at a fair price?”

He remembered her saying she was close to the end of her
resources. “No need. The community needs a physician. I’ll arrange for a horse and buggy.”

Her eyes narrowed to scalpel-sharp silver slits. Eric braced himself for another dose of the good doctor’s pride.

“I’m hardly as naïve as you think,” she said. “I have wondered just who is providing my lovely home. I’m aware that church members donated many items, but the house itself must belong to someone. I still don’t know my landlord’s name.”

Eric stared at a spot on the wall above Letty’s head. “Ah . . . I own the house. It sat empty for a number of months, and surely you’ll agree it’s better to use it as a clinic.”

With a lift of her chin, she said, “Then you have two options. You can either name a monthly rent, or you can sell it to me.”

“But—”

“Two choices. I will not be a kept woman. Under any humanitarian guise.”

Eric’s cheeks burned, and he conceded defeat. He named a modest sum, close to the value of the property yet low enough not to empty her coffers.

When she nodded, he smiled. “I’ll have the necessary documents prepared by my lawyer.”

“It’s for the best. Now, about the horse and buggy—”

“I’ll provide them.”

“I must again decline your offer. I pay my own way.”

“Of all the obstinate women! Very well, Dr. Morgan, I’ll take you to buy a horse, but I have a perfectly good buggy going to waste in my barn. You’ll take it and use it to benefit the people of Hartville with no further argument.”

“I’d much rather not.”

Turning from the maddening woman, Eric cursed the overblown sense of responsibility that had compelled him to find a lady doctor. He’d never expected this much trouble.

When they returned to their individual tasks, uneasy silence
again settled around them. Still, they continued to work, and the clinic came closer to reality.

At noon Letty offered Eric a bowl of soup. One taste and he decided he’d been wise to stay. “Delicious!” He helped himself to a slice of crusty bread. “I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me for my uninspired cooking.”

“Oh, it’s not much,” she said, smiling. “Just vegetable soup with barley and beef. The guild ladies are most generous.”

“Stands to reason. They were quite vocal about our need for a woman doctor. I have it on good authority that they’re pleased with our choice.”

Letty’s hands burst into motion. She broke off a piece of bread, reached for the butter dish, and applied a liberal coating. Her spoon fell to the floor.

This wasn’t the first time a compliment had flustered the good doctor. Eric suspected her discomfort came from their scarcity. “Prepare yourself for more praise,” he said. “That’s all I hear from everyone who meets you.”

Her silver eyes sparkled. “Slosh speaks well of me?”

Eric laughed. “More like curses. He insists he was winning and you killed his hopes for victory.”

“Pshaw! The nerve of the man. They were beating him to mush. Why, I even saw to his wounds. The ingratitude of a sodden mind!”

Eric tried to keep from laughing, but her eyes flashed, her cheeks blazed, her lips pouted then spewed indignant words.

“Do you mock me, Mr. Wagner?”

“Hardly, Dr. Morgan. I suspect this is the beginning of a safer Hartville. If you fight for our health as doggedly as you challenged me to stop a brawl—”

“I’m sworn to protect human life. I live and work by certain principles. Don’t you?”

Eric remembered learning such things as a child. Pity his teacher never learned them first.

“Yes,” he said, anger’s sudden fire sparking in his gut. “My late . . . father always said evil can’t flourish in the light. A newspaper’s mission is to enlighten the public on matters that affect it.”

“I’m glad we have something in common.”

When she smiled, Eric forced away his grim memory. He had to keep a tighter grip on his emotions.

After their meal, Letty waved aside his offer to help neaten the kitchen, and he returned to the examining room. Surveying the morning’s work, he saw she’d already filled some shelves with linens.

She resumed work over yet another box of medical supplies. Eric’s gaze strayed to her petite though shapely form more often than it should have. Dismayed by his thoughts, he wielded the hammer with greater force than needed. He spewed German as the hammer crushed his thumb.

“What happened?” Letty rushed to his side. She chuckled in sympathy as she examined his throbbing thumb, then returned to her crate, withdrew a remedy jar, and with a silver spoon scooped out a trio of pellets. “Take these. Arnica works better than waving your hand.”

Although he saw no further humor on her face, the sparkle in Letty’s silver eyes gave Eric the distinct impression that she enjoyed his discomfort. He tucked the remedy under his tongue to let the pellets dissolve.

Favoring his smashed thumb, he dismantled two empty crates, stacked the wooden slats for later disposal, and tried to avoid all thought of Letty. Being so close made his efforts futile.

A timely knock at the front door distracted Letty. When she ushered in a young woman carrying an infant, Eric welcomed the opportunity to observe her with a patient.

“Let me hold the baby,” Letty said. Eric noted her poignant expression, heard her soft crooning. In the examining room, she offered the mother a seat on an unopened crate. “What’s wrong?”

The young woman shot Eric a panicked look. “Well, I . . .”

Letty sent him a mute appeal. When he didn’t budge, she stood, the baby nestled in the crook of her arm, and hurried to his side.

“Can’t you see this is a sensitive situation?” she whispered. “My patient needs her privacy.”

With a glance at the mother, she continued in a louder voice. “I need a pillow and a woolen coverlet from the room upstairs. Please fetch them for me, Mr. Wagner.”

Reluctantly he followed her orders. At the top of the stairs, he found a tidy room, fragrant with the scent of violets. A quilt in white and rose covered a sturdy oak bed, and plump pillows hid the headboard. Comfort beckoned him inside.

Rose-colored slippers peeped from beneath a white bed skirt, and a matching nightdress lay across the foot of the bed, ready for the woman who wore it. He saw the woolen coverlet under the nightdress.

He reached for the blanket but stopped, his hand only inches away. In order to pick it up, he would have to touch Letty’s nightgown. The intimacy of that action held him back.

The baby cried downstairs.

She needed the coverlet. He had to touch that bit of cloth, and he did. So sheer that it felt like mist against his fingers, the nightdress bore the scent of violets, the sweetness of Letty. She’d slept in this garment the night before. Unable to resist, Eric brought the fabric to his face and took a deeper breath.

“Mr. Wagner,” she called, “we need the blanket.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m on my way.”

Partway down the stairs, he heard Letty’s patient speak again. “He wasn’t nursing proper, Dr. Morgan, and the breast turned
sore and red. Now it hurts something fierce, worse when he sucks.”

“Belladonna pellets should take care of the mastitis,” Letty answered. “Continue to nurse him and apply heat to the sore spot.”

Eric didn’t dare enter unannounced. The women would be mortified if they knew he’d overheard their discussion. He purposely stumbled, and the clatter of his boot against the step led to silence.

Then, “Did you find what I need?”

Going to her side, he said, “Yes, Dr. Morgan. Here you are.” He dropped the pillow and coverlet on a crate. To make sure Letty’s patient didn’t get the wrong idea about his presence in the house, he added, “Since it’s late and I’m not done building your shelves, I will head on home and come back to finish them later this week. Remember, I’m still your landlord until the sale of the house is complete. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything else. Good evening.”

Looking confused, Letty nodded. “Oh,” she said, as he opened the door, “before you leave, would you be so kind as to look at Mrs. Miller’s buggy? She had a problem with a wheel.”

He nodded. “On my way.”

After Mrs. Miller left, Letty resumed unpacking. What an odd day. At times she’d sensed Eric’s interest in her. At others, it had seemed as if he’d built a rock-hard wall between them. She wondered if he would ever overcome the loss of his wife and son.

And that wasn’t all. A grim expression had killed Eric’s humor at the mention of his father. Her curiosity, of course, had immediately leapt to life, but it had gone unappeased, since she had no right to pry into such matters.

She would never forget his kindness. He’d tried to make everything right for her, and his generosity encompassed others, too. After he’d examined Mrs. Miller’s buggy and determined
that repairs would take at least two days, he’d driven mother and child back home.

She couldn’t help liking the complicated, fascinating, irritating man she was coming to know. Although at times he appeared too serious and one could nearly touch his pain, at other times a sense of humor came into play.

When she realized where her thoughts had gone, she frowned. “Enough of that, Letitia Morgan. You have too much work to do.”