Nan Ryan (22 page)

“Out here, Maria, come join me.”

She walked across the veranda to meet him and Dawson almost choked on his last big swallow of whiskey. She was wearing one of the new dresses Pedro brought from the village. It was a soft yellow muslin and it fit her perfectly. Dainty tiered ruffles went from the waist to her feet. The bodice was tight across her bosom and buttoned discreetly to her neck. Delicate sleeves just capped her brown smooth shoulders, on her feet yellow slippers fit snuggly. Her hair was glistening clean and brushed back off her face, held in place with a yellow hair ribbon. She was happy, smiling, and breathtakingly lovely.

“I can’t believe this is the same
señorita
I met in the cantina today. You look beautiful, Maria. Absolutely perfect.”

“
Gracias
,” she said and came to join him.

Sixteen

At twenty-eight, Annabelle Thompson was at the height of her beauty and knew it. Her voluptous figure, never touched by the rigors and weight of childbirth, possessed an eighteen-inch waist, one of the smallest in all Natchez. Her breasts were firm and high and her hips were delicately rounded, her legs long and slender. Her thick, dark hair she wore pulled neatly atop her head, setting off her finely chiseled high cheekbones and perfect nose. Her sparkling gray eyes were rimmed with thick, dark lashes and her full rosebud mouth, when turned up in a small smile, displayed small, perfect teeth. She was a very stunning woman, worshiped and pampered by her loving husband until his untimely death from pneumonia.

Six months after his death, Annabelle was lonely and lost. Too much of a lady to seek or even accept the companionship of men, she spent her days and nights alone, rarely leaving her mansion except to attend church services or to see the doctor about the headaches and heart palpitations that had plagued her since her husband’s unexpected death. Rembert Pitt had been her doctor since early childhood and she trusted and depended on the old physician.

Annabelle massaged her throbbing temples while her mammy dressed her to go into Natchez to see Doctor Pitt. She hadn’t been sleeping well and felt that if she didn’t get relief soon she would surely lose her mind. When Annabelle arrived at Doctor Pitt’s office, she was surprised when he came out and took her hand and said in a soft, fatherly voice, “Annabelle, dear, I do hope you’ll forgive me. We’ve had such a busy morning and I’m not feeling too well myself. I need to go upstairs and lie down before I see any more patients. I don’t believe you’ve met my nephew, Hunter Alexander, but I assure you he is a fine, dedicated doctor. Puts me to shame, as a matter of fact. I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind too much, you would see Doctor Alexander instead of me, just this one time. I know I’m presumptuous to ask this of you, but we’ve just been snowed under all morning, seems everyone in town is sick.”

“But, Doctor Pitt, I’ve come all the way into town just to see you. I’ve a terrible headache and I …”

“Oh, I know, dear Annabelle, but Hunter can be as much help as I and, as I told you, it would just be this once. I’d never let anyone else have you as their patient, you know that, don’t you?”

“Well, I guess if you …”

“Good, I knew you’d understand. Now, come with me. Hunter’s in his office alone right now. I’ll introduce you,” and he led her down the hall.

Hunter looked up from his desk and smiled when his uncle led Annabelle Thompson into the room. He rose immediately and extended his hand when they were introduced. “Mrs. Thompson, so glad to meet you. My uncle tells me you haven’t been well. I’m so sorry to hear it, I’ll do my best to help you. Won’t you have a chair.”

Annabelle smiled at the tall, blond man and momentarily forgot why she had come to the doctor. She had heard that young Doctor Alexander was a handsome man, but she’d had no idea how handsome. She had never happened to run into him on her visits to Doctor Pitt; if she had, she would have remembered. The drowsy brown eyes looking directly at her made her feel embarrassed, flustered, in a pleasant, unfamiliar way. She looked into his face, then had to avert her eyes, and quickly drew her hand from his as though she had been burned. Her heart palpitations were stronger than usual and she felt quite faint. The good-looking doctor must have sensed it or else she looked very pale for he hurried around his desk to her, took her arm, and lowered her into a chair.

“You just sit here, Mrs. Thompson, you’re going to be all right. Go on, Uncle Rembert, I’m sure Mrs. Thompson and I will get along fine.” He smiled at Annabelle.

“Yes, Doctor Pitt, by all means, go lie down. And thank you for introducing me to Doctor Alexander. I have complete faith in him, just as I do in you.” Annabelle managed a smile.

“Good, good,” Doctor Pitt said and left the room.

Hunter went back around his desk and sat down, “Now, Mrs. Thompson, what seems to be your trouble? You’re much too lovely and young to be ill.”

Annabelle blushed and looked down at her hands. “Doctor Alexander, I’ve been having the most terrible headaches and my heart just pounds in my chest until I feel it may explode at any minute.”

Hunter sat with his long fingers entwined on his desk top, looking at Annabelle and listening intently. It was impossible for him not to notice how lovely she was, but he put such thoughts from his mind and sympathized with her. “I’m so sorry to hear it, but perhaps it’s nothing too serious. I don’t mean to pry, Mrs. Thompson, but I understand you lost your dear husband several months ago.”

“Yes, Doctor Alexander, I did, but …”

“Mrs. Thompson, sometimes extreme stress makes our bodies suffer physical ailments and this could be part of your problem. Certainly we want to check every possibility though and be sure there is nothing wrong with your heart.” Hunter rose and walked to Annabelle. “Mrs. Thompson, if you’ll just step inside the next room, I’ll listen to your heart, make sure it’s as it should be.” He smiled and took her arm. Once inside the next room, he said, “Now if you’ll just sit right up here on the edge of this table, we’ll have a look.”

“Yes, Doctor Alexander.”

Hunter turned and picked up his uncle’s chart on Anna-belle, reading it hurriedly before placing it on the table beside her. He stepped closer to her and put a hand to her face. “I want to look into your eyes for a second,” he said, leaning close, pulling each eyelid up and looking into the piercing gray eyes. He felt her head, apologizing for having to touch the carefully arranged coiffure, then moved his slender fingers to her neck, carefully examining the vertebrae, finding the muscles knotted and tense. Hunter removed his hands, wrote something on her chart, then smiled to her again. “Now, Mrs. Thompson, if you’ll just unbutton the top three buttons of that lovely gray blouse, I’ll listen to your heart.”

“Yes, of course,” Annabelle stammered and fumbled with the tiny buttons. Hunter stood patiently, the stethoscope in his hand.

“That’s far enough,” he said evenly and stepped closer to her. He raised the stethoscope to her throat and said, “Now take a deep breath, please.” Annabelle gulped for air, so nervous her throat was alarmingly tight, making deep breaths next to impossible. Hunter seemed not to notice, simply said, “That’s good. Now another,” the stethoscope moving farther down. His face so close to hers was stifling to the young widow and she was afraid she might quit breathing completely if he didn’t move away. Hunter didn’t move back; he continued to ask her to take another deep breath and another, while the slender fingers holding the stethoscope moved the cold instrument farther and farther down inside her blouse until the soft skin under his fingers grew warm and tingling in spite of all Annabelle’s efforts to remain calm. “That’s good,” he said at last and smiled at her. “You may button your blouse.” He turned and wrote on her chart.

Back in his office, he sat behind his desk and extended his hand to the chair across from him. While he studied her chart thoughtfully for a few minutes, she sat nervously watching him, unable to take her eyes off the handsome blond head bent over the desk. He looked up at her at last and Annabelle blushed instinctively. “Mrs. Thompson,” he said, smiling, “I’m going to give you something for those terrible headaches. I want you to get plenty of rest. You must try to relax, though I realize that can be quite difficult at times. You have a strong heart, I assure you, and I really feel these palpitations are due to stress which is of course understandable after the tragedy you have gone through. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do about them, only time will help. I’ll be anxious to know if the medication I give you helps your head and I’ll be checking with Uncle Rembert to see how you are getting along.”

“Doctor Alexander,” she said softly, “I want you to be my doctor from here on out.”

“But, Mrs. Thompson, I …”

“Please call me Annabelle. We both know your uncle is growing old and will be thinking of retirement soon. I’ve heard he’s already transferred many of his patients to you. I want you to be my doctor, Hunter.”

“Very well, I’ll speak to Uncle Rembert, Mrs. Thompson … sorry, Annabelle. If you should need either one of us, you know we’re readily available. Now, good day.”

“Good day, Hunter. And thanks.”

Annabelle found it necessary to come in to see the young doctor at least once a week, much more often than she had been in the habit of seeing Rembert. Hunter was patient and understanding with her and treated all her complaints with the utmost interest and concern. He told her that physically she was very sound, but she refused to fully believe him. Or at least she said she didn’t. She was not well, she said, he must do something to make her better. Each visit Annabelle made to his office lasted longer through no fault of Hunter’s. The lovely young widow was obviously very attracted to him, though he did nothing to encourage her. No longer embarrassed in his presence, she flirted with Hunter and he could read in her flashing gray eyes a promise of further closeness if he would only say the word. He never did. He tried his best to remain only her doctor, nothing more, and found he was the one who was becoming nervous in her presence. When it was necessary to put the stethoscope to her bosom to listen to her heart, she willingly undid her blouse without his asking. Hunter’s hand sometimes shook, embarrassing him greatly.

“I’m sorry,” he said and looked at her sheepishly, “I suppose I haven’t been getting enough rest. I seem to be shaky this morning.”

Annabelle would smile into his eyes and say coyly, “Are you sure it’s a lack of rest, Hunter?”

Clearing his throat needlessly, Hunter would look away and say, “That should do it for today, Annabelle. The palpitations are improving, perhaps it won’t be necessary for you to come back for six months or so. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Would it?” she smiled and touched his shoulder, the blouse still seductively open.

Hurrying from the room, Hunter said over his shoulder, “You may get dressed, Annabelle. If you’ll excuse me, I’m quite busy.”

Annabelle did quit coming to his office so often. A discreet lady, she was afraid Doctor Pitt and the other patients might notice her frequent visits. Rembert had already noticed and had cautioned Hunter. “Son, I know you would never take an undue interest in one of your patients, but I’ve noticed Annabelle Thompson is here to see you at least once a week. Hunter, there’s nothing wrong with Annabelle but loneliness. You should try to persuade her to cut down on her visits, people might get the wrong idea, you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Uncle Rembert, but you are worrying needlessly. Annabelle is a lonely, confused woman, but she thinks she is sick. I can hardly turn anyone away when they feel they need a doctor.”

“That’s true, of course, Hunter. All I’m saying is I’m afraid the beautiful young widow is attracted to you and it could be a real problem if not checked in time.”

“I’ll take care of it, Uncle, now I’m late for dinner, so goodnight.”

A week later, Hunter sat in the library of Sans Souci after dinner. Kathleen and he had put Scott to bed and come down to read a while before retiring to their separate rooms. Hannah came lumbering into the room, a frown on her black face. “Doctor Alexander, that Mrs. Thompson’ servant be at the back do’. He say Mrs. Thompson be sick and need a doctor. She got lots o’ nerve if you ask me, bothering folks at this time of night!”

“Hannah, tell him I’ll get my bag and be right over. Ask Daniel to saddle a horse and bring it around to the front.” Hunter looked at Kathleen, “Sorry, dear. I’d better get out there and see her.”

“Hunter,” Kathleen looked up a him, “you are just too soft-hearted. Do you really think she would bother your uncle at this hour? Why didn’t she call him?”

Hunter coughed nervously and told her, “Actually, she is no longer his patient. She switched to me a couple of months ago. Guess I forgot to mention it.”

“You certainly did.” She rose from her chair. “Hunter, do you think Annabelle Thompson is beautiful?”

“Why would you ask a question like that, for heaven’s sake?”

Kathleen shrugged her shoulders, “No reason, but in case you haven’t noticed, she is very lovely. And I’ll bet she’s more than a little lonely since her husband passed away, don’t you?”

“I’m sure she is, dear. Now I must be going.” He kissed her cheek and left.

“Good evenin’, Doctor Alexander,” a black servant threw the door open and invited Hunter into the Thompson mansion.

“Hello,” Hunter nodded, “I’m sorry it took so long. It’s a long ride over here from my home. I hope it’s nothing serious with Mrs. Thompson.”

“I don’t know, Doctor. She be upstairs in her room. I understands why it take so long fo’ you to gets here. I keep tellin Miz Annabelle she needs to sell this big ole place way off out here in the country miles from everybody, but she won’t listen.” The servant shook his head, then said, “You can go on up, she be in the last do’ on the right, she be expectin you.”

“Thanks,” Hunter said and hurried up the stairs, carrying his black bag. When he reached her door at the end of the long hall, he knocked loudly and a soft feminine voice said, “Come in, please.”

Hunter opened the door and stepped inside to see that Annabelle was alone in the room. She was reclining on a blue velvet chaise lounge, a small lamp on the table beside her was the only light in the big room. She was wearing a long gray satin dressing gown and her long dark hair was down, falling in soft curls around her shoulders. Hunter took one look at her, swallowed hard, and walked over.