The Doctor's Lady (9 page)

Central Pennsylvania

P
riscilla knew she’d never be warm, truly warm, ever again. Even though Eli had stopped more frequently in the preceding days as they rode hard through Elmira, New York, and past Williamsport, Pennsylvania, the nagging chill was her constant companion.

She rubbed her hands together under the blanket. She tried to muster enthusiasm for another stop in their journey toward Pittsburgh, but she could hardly find the energy to turn her head and look through the dusk to the two-story house where they had halted.

Eli hopped out, and John and Richard reined in their horses next to the sleigh. Dressed in warm clothes that supporters had donated, the two Indian boys hardly looked like the wild savages who had walked into her church the first time she’d met Eli.

He bounded up the front steps. “If they have room, we’ll stay here for the night.”

So far, he had managed to find willing members of local congregations to house them and provide a meal. But now, after almost a week, Eli had moved beyond the boundaries of his supporters.

As they’d traveled he’d shared tales of the adventures he’d had with Samuel Parker, his companion from his exploratory trip, and the people they’d met, the wild animals they’d encountered, and the beauty of the land they’d traveled.

Eli’s enthusiasm for the West and his excitement about returning was infectious, and Priscilla couldn’t help but get more excited with every day that passed. The more he talked about the details of the clinic he planned to build and the Nez Perce who lived there, the more she wished they were already there.

According to Eli, they wouldn’t arrive in Oregon Country until September. He’d explained that first they had to travel by steamboat from Pittsburgh to St. Louis. And then by steamboat up the Missouri River to the Platte River. Once they reached the Platte, they’d begin the overland portion of their journey.

It would take them six, maybe even seven, months—and that was if they didn’t encounter any problems along the way.

She shivered and hugged herself.

Richard, the older of the two boys, slid from his horse. “Mrs. Doc? Cold?” His ebony eyes narrowed with concern.

She nodded and gave him a tremulous smile, hoping she could convey her gratitude for his consideration. She guessed him to be no more than twelve years old, but he had the maturity of a young man. John was a year or two younger and more spirited but had been equally attentive to her.

“I’ll be very glad when spring arrives,” she said. Now that they’d entered the first days of March, she hoped they’d stumble upon warm weather soon.

Richard cocked his head. “Spring?”

She really must take it upon herself to teach the boys more English. Eli spent too much time trying to converse with them in their native Nez Perce instead of helping them better themselves.

Richard reached for her hands and rubbed them between his.

She’d resisted the first time he’d done it. But she’d quickly realized how much heat the friction brought her and had set aside decorum to allow it.

John jumped from his saddle and draped another blanket around her.

“It will surely warm up once the snow melts.” She gave the boys a grateful smile.

“My home not so cold,” John said.

“Then I shall be pleased to live there.”

The boys didn’t say anything.

Did they miss their family after months of being gone? Now that they’d seen the way civilized people lived, would it be hard for them to return to their savage way of living? She bit her lip to hold back her questions. They didn’t need her prying and reminding them of all they missed.

“There’s room,” Eli called, letting the door slam behind him. He raced down the steps, skipping every other wooden plank.

Priscilla rose on trembling legs, and Richard held her arm as she climbed out of the sleigh.

Eli rushed to her. “Let’s get you inside.”

He ushered her into the warmth of the building, which she soon realized was a wayside tavern. The landlord served them leftovers, a lukewarm supper of potatoes, soft carrots, and leathery beef slathered in gravy in which the fat had already started to congeal.

The evening passed in a blur of weariness, and she was grateful when Eli finally indicated that it was time for them to retire.

He led her up the stairs to the sleeping room. When he opened the door, she peered past him but recoiled into the hallway.

Eli glanced over his shoulder and jerked his head for her to follow him.

“I can’t sleep in there,” she whispered.

He backed out of the room and half closed the door. “Would you rather sleep in the barn with John and Richard?”

Though everywhere they’d traveled people were fascinated with the savages, they were too frightened to allow them to sleep inside their homes. John and Richard hadn’t complained about bedding with the animals. She supposed they were used to it. But she was most certainly not planning to join them. Nor was she planning to sleep in a room with a dozen strangers.

She peeked through the door and examined the large room with its rows of double beds, several of which were already occupied. “Why can’t we have our own room like we’ve had every place else?”

“It’s not that bad, Priscilla. In two months when you’re sleeping on the hard ground, this will seem like paradise.”

She’d tried not to complain about the long hours of riding in the sleigh or the cold stiffness of her limbs. She didn’t want to inconvenience him or have him regret his decision to marry her. But this—how would she possibly endure it?

She looked back into the room, swallowed hard, and nodded. What choice did she have? “You’re right. I’ll try to make the best of the situation.”

With a sinking heart, she tiptoed behind him, past the mismatched assortment of beds, until they reached one that was empty.

Through the rumpled blankets and sheets, she could make out the sagging mattress. “It looks like someone has already slept in it. Perhaps they’ll be back?”

Eli shook his head. “This is for us.”

“Us?” Surely he didn’t mean for them to share a bed, not after they’d been keeping the sleeping arrangement they’d chosen the first night—where she slept in the bed and he on the floor?

“You won’t get a bed to yourself here,” he whispered. “If it’s not me next to you, you’ll end up with a complete stranger.”

The man in the next bed shifted his hefty body and released a less-than-graceful bodily noise.

She shuddered.

“We can draw a line down the middle of the bed, and I’ll try not to cross it.” He tugged off a boot and let it drop to the floor with a clunk. “But you might want to sleep with your boots on. That way you can kick me if you need to.”

The grin in his tone made her heart do a funny flip. Would she want to kick him away? “Thank you for the noble warning,” she whispered back. “But I think I shall poke you with my hairpins instead.”

“In that case, I’ll help arm you.” His whisper turned deep. “I’m sure I’d be good at playing hide-and-seek in your hair for them.”

Longing curled in the pit of her stomach, and she couldn’t keep from imagining his gentle fingers burrowing through her hair. Strangely, the thought was a pleasant one.

Eli tossed his other boot to the floor and fumbled at his trousers.

Heat flamed to her face. She turned her back to him and sat down on the edge of the bed. She slipped off the sturdy leather boots Eli’s stepfather had made.

The bed squeaked under Eli’s weight.

She hesitated at the buttons of her dress. She’d never slept in her clothes before, but how could she possibly unclothe now, in the middle of a roomful of strangers and in the same bed as Eli? Especially if he was only half attired?

He gave a long weary sigh.

Gingerly, she leaned back. The pillowslip was greasy, and she wished she could toss it aside and sleep without it. But she was sure Eli already thought she was particular, and she didn’t want to give him more justification.

With a grimace, she settled her head and pulled up the covers. The sourness of unwashed bodies assaulted her. She pinched her eyes closed and tried not to think about who had lain in the bed before her and how long it had been since the landlord had washed the sheets.

Eli stretched.

Her lungs constricted. What if he brushed against her? The full-sized bed back home had always been big enough when she’d shared it with her sister, but this one was entirely too small.

He settled on his side facing her, and the heat of his breath washed over her.

A tiny bud of warmth unfurled in her middle and spread to her limbs. She twisted the band on her finger, and the intricate grooves of the roses caressed her skin. He was her husband, after all. In the sight of God and man, they’d made a lifetime commitment to each other. And so far, everyone believed she and Eli had a real marriage—everyone except Walt.

She stared through the dark at the slanted ceiling. Why hadn’t Walt believed Eli about their marriage? Moreover, why hadn’t his mother acknowledged him? She’d puzzled over his strange family all week, comparing their departure from her family to his. Whereas her family had shed tears and showered her with love, his had only heaped shame upon him and shoved him away with ugliness.

“Dr. Ernest?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Why was Walt so cruel to you?”

His breathing stopped then restarted faster. “That’s just the way he’s always been.”

She shuddered to think what his life had been like as a child, and she had the urge to reach out and caress his cheek.

“What about your sisters? Where are they?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then the bed creaked as he turned to lie on his back. “Walt used them—took away their innocence. When they were old enough, they got away from him as fast as they could. Married the first boys who offered them a way out.”

“And are they happy now?”

“I don’t think they’ve ever known what it’s like to be happy.” Wistfulness tinged his voice.

She propped up on her elbow and tried to study his face through the dim light filtering through the shabby curtains. “What about your mother? Why didn’t she remember you?”

The blanket shifted with his shrug, but he didn’t offer an explanation.

What kind of mother could forget her own flesh and blood? For a long moment, Priscilla peered through the darkness, her heart aching for him. She wanted to know more but was afraid to ask.

Finally she took a deep breath. “What happened to your father?”

His body stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He flipped to his other side, turning his back to her.

“I’m sorry.” She wished she could take back her question. She longed to reach out and touch him, to tell him that he could take the pins out of her hair if he wanted. But the words stuck in her throat.

He had scars from his past the same as she did. But he obviously didn’t want her pity any more than she wanted his.

She’d do best to remember why she was traveling west. It wasn’t about them. She was going in answer to God’s calling, and she needed to remain faithful to that above all else.

Stifling a sigh, she lowered her head back to the dirty pillow. If only it were as easy as it sounded. . . .

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

D
o you see our boat?” Priscilla’s heart banged against her chest, and she gripped the seat of the sleigh, praying, as she had the past several days, that they’d reach their steamboat in time.

More gigantic vessels than she could count bobbed in the rushing current of the Ohio River ahead of them. The murky water, swollen from recent thawing, slapped against the levy.

Eli climbed out of the sleigh and scanned the waterfront. The wharf teemed with deckhands hauling luggage and dockmen loading heavy barrels as well as the firewood that would fuel the boats. Passengers clustered in front of gangplanks, waiting to board. And on a nearby three-deck steamboat, a number of ladies disembarked.

At the sight of the crisp silk of their day dresses and the shininess of their fur cloaks, Priscilla clutched a fistful of her wrinkled and mud-splattered skirt and inwardly cringed. In the two weeks since leaving Angelica, she’d dirtied practically every dress she’d packed. How could she make an appearance among such elegance looking as she did?

They had reached Pittsburgh late last night behind schedule. The melting snow and muddy roads had slowed them down—at least that’s what Eli claimed. But if Eli hadn’t taken the time to stop so often to refill the warming box for her, they could have arrived sooner.

If they missed their connection, it would be because of her.

“Oh, God, help us.” She stood and peered at the lines of steamboats, all shapes and sizes, their tall smokestacks belching black billows into the clear morning sky, their enormous paddlewheels churning cascades of water. “How will we ever find our boat and traveling companions in this chaos?”

Eli tipped up the brim of his hat, revealing the worried creases that cut through his forehead. “We’ll find them.”

A breath of spring had hovered around them the past few days. She lifted her face and relished the kiss of sunshine and the embrace of warmth. The mid-March sun dangled above the enormous cliffs on the southern side of the river valley.

She drew in lungfuls of the strange muddy scent of river water mixed with woodsmoke from the steamboats, and surveyed the enormity of the valley where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers met to form the Ohio. Eli had told her that Captain Meriwether Lewis launched his keelboat
Discovery
from Pittsburgh only thirty-three years earlier, and they would likely be following much of the same path the early expedition had taken, at least until they reached the central plains.

After days of traveling past small towns, rolling hills, and farmlands that varied little from her own New York home, they’d finally reached beyond the edge of all that was familiar.

The thrill of the adventure whispered through her, and she hugged her arms across her chest. This might not be what she’d planned—it likely didn’t come close to the exotic wonders of India—but it was like nothing she’d ever seen before.

John and Richard’s faces were alight with excitement too, and they’d made their way to the waterfront to watch the boats more closely.

“Well, it’s about time,” a voice called to them.

A grin spread across Eli’s face. “We got here as soon as we could.” She stood as Eli started toward the approaching gentleman. They shook hands, and when they stepped apart, Priscilla gasped.

With his tall black top hat, dark mustache, impeccably tailored trousers, and perfectly matching waistcoat, she found herself staring at Henry Spalding, the very man she’d considered marrying. She’d met him shortly after recovering from the mumps, during those days of wondering why she wasn’t having her monthly courses anymore.

Her heart squeezed with dread. She could almost picture the scene in the parlor, not long after Dr. Baldwin had given her the devastating news. Henry had been on his knees holding her hand, begging her to reconsider his marriage proposal. And her final words were the ones Mother decided to tell everyone, the words that would hide the shame of her condition, shield her heart from rejection, and protect her family’s reputation: She would never marry. Ever. Not to Henry, not to anyone.

Priscilla dropped to the seat, ducked her head, and pulled her bonnet forward. And now she was married. How would she ever explain that?

“You’re several days later than you said, and I was beginning to get worried.” Henry’s smooth voice was the same as it had always been.

“For a while I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it at all.”

“Well, you’re the one who told me the Fur Company won’t wait for us if we’re late,” Henry said. “You said if we’re not in St. Louis by the time their steamboat heads out for Liberty, we might as well pack up and go home until next year.”

“And it’s true.” Eli’s voice tightened. “We’ll just have to get passage on the fastest steamboat—”

“Already done. When I got word of your arrival last night, I booked two cabins on the
Siam.
It’s leaving in three hours.”

“The supplies?”

“Being loaded even as we speak. And Mrs. Spalding is already on board.”

In the ensuing silence, Priscilla had the distinct impression Henry had shifted his gaze to her and was awaiting Eli’s introduction.

She shivered, not wishing to lift her head, hoping Eli would neglect propriety and forgo any formal presentations.

“Let’s get the rest of our belongings on board.” Eli strode back toward the sleigh and reached for Priscilla’s small trunk. “Then I’ll work on selling the sleigh and horses.”

She didn’t move.

He shimmied out the trunk and hefted it into his arms. “Where to?”

Henry cleared his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Dr. Ernest?”

“I may be a strong man, Henry, but this is about all I can carry at one time.”

“Your wife.” Henry stepped toward the sleigh. “You haven’t introduced me to your wife.”

She pushed herself back against the smooth seat, wishing she could disappear.

“You’re right,” Eli said. “Allow me to introduce you to the lovely young lady I met only a few weeks ago—”

“A few weeks ago?” Henry’s tone went up a notch. “Why, Dr. Ernest, I don’t understand. Is this not the young woman you were engaged to and spoke about last fall when we met?”

“No,” Eli responded slowly. “Sarah Taylor decided she didn’t want to go west with me after all—at least that’s what I assumed when I saw her with her new husband.”

Priscilla gasped and glanced sideways at Eli. She’d had no idea he’d been engaged. She searched the weathered lines of his rugged face, looking for signs of the hurt that would surely be there.

His jaw was hard and the winter blue of his eyes had turned cold.

“Then you’ve married a complete stranger?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. She was my last option.”

She ducked her head again. He’d always been honest with her regarding the nature of their relationship. And even though she’d known she’d been his last resort—the only choice after he’d exhausted all other possibilities—his comment stung nevertheless. She couldn’t understand why it would bother her—except that maybe she’d been secretly hoping he’d change his mind and see that she was a good option after all.

“Well,” Henry said, his voice laced with doubt, “I’m rather surprised at your rashness regarding such a critical issue. But we’ll just have to trust that you exerted wisdom.”

Eli didn’t say anything.

His silence stung her as much as his words had.

“You’ll have to forgive my surprise, Mrs. Ernest.” Henry held out a hand in front of her to help her from the sleigh. “I’m sure Dr. Ernest has chosen wisely with his wife, just as he’s chosen wisely with the rest of the decisions regarding our trip.”

She squirmed, not wanting to place her hand in Henry’s, yet knowing she couldn’t possibly decline his offer of assistance. Tentatively, she slipped her gloved hand into his.

“Mrs. Ernest, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance—”

She lifted her head and revealed her face.

He jumped back and jerked his hand away. “Priscilla White?”

“Hello, Reverend Spalding,” she whispered and clutched her hands together.

He blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision. “Miss White?”

She nodded, and her stomach twisted.

His face was pale, and he took another step away. “I certainly never expected . . . that is . . . I was under the impression—”

“I’m as surprised as you,” she said.

“You’re married?” Henry stammered.

She looked at Eli. His eyebrows arched. “Yes. I was Dr. Ernest’s
last option.
” At her clipped words, regret flashed through Eli’s eyes.

Henry’s slim face constricted with confusion and hurt. “But you told me you would never get married.
Ever.
”

“Whoa!” Eli cut in. “Don’t tell me this is
the
Reverend Spalding who proposed to you several years ago?”

“Yes.” She said the word at the same time as Henry.

Eli glanced between the two of them, his eyes narrowing with something akin to jealousy. “Then I guess I didn’t marry a complete stranger after all. At least one of us knows her.”

Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “How is that you’re married? Especially when you made it very clear you had no intention—”

“And I had no intention of marrying. Truly.”

“Was it just
me
?” Hurt laced the threads of his strained voice. “You could have just said so.”

“No. It had nothing to do with you.” She had regarded Henry fondly enough. And of all her suitors Mother had liked him the best, particularly the fact that he’d gone to a theological seminary. “It’s just that . . . at the time I wasn’t . . .”

What could she say? She certainly couldn’t tell him the truth about her infertility and chance the news reaching her hometown and bringing embarrassment to her family.

“I understand.” Henry’s face hardened into a mask of cool civility.

“It’s not what you think.”

He turned toward Eli and cleared his throat. “Well, Dr. Ernest, this is a most awkward situation.”

Eli looked at her with raised eyebrow. “The truth is . . .”

She pleaded with him silently—hoping he’d see that she didn’t want him to say anything that might reveal the painful truth of her situation.

“The truth is that Priscilla didn’t want to get married. I just happened to be in Angelica the day she got a letter from the Board of Missions telling her she couldn’t teach in India and that she needed to get married if she wanted to be a missionary.”

Priscilla let out the breath she’d been holding and nodded at Eli gratefully.

Henry was silent. He glanced at the long line of steamboats. His Adam’s apple bobbed again. Then he addressed Eli almost as if she weren’t present. “I’m sure Mrs. Spalding won’t be agreeable to continuing under these awkward circumstances, but since we’ve already come this far, we shall trust in the Lord’s plans and shall attempt to put the past behind us.”

When he spun and strode away, Priscilla released a long breath and let her shoulders sag.

“Of all the men we could partner with,” Eli mumbled under his breath, “it would have to be an old flame.”

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t possibly think she liked this any more than he did, could he?

He shifted her trunk in his arms. “Was he someone special?”

She hesitated. “He was always very kind and attentive.”

“And apparently you broke his heart when you told him you wouldn’t marry him.”

Had she broken his heart? Or simply wounded his pride?

A steam whistle blew long and shrill. Another boat drew near to the shore, water cascading through its side paddlewheel. Her heart churned with the same slapping rhythm. “I’d given him hope to believe we could marry. And he couldn’t understand why I changed my mind.”

Eli’s muscles bulged under the weight of her trunk. “Maybe if you’d been honest with him—”

“No!”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Please don’t tell him. I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“What difference does it make? Won’t everyone find out eventually—when we don’t have a baby—”

“Maybe.” Heat pricked her cheeks.

Her gaze swept over the milling crowds, and she caught a glimpse of Henry’s top hat and his squared shoulders. He was a part of her past, the part she’d hoped to put behind her. “I’d prefer to keep my issues private—including the nature of our marriage.”

“So now I need to lie about our marriage?”

“Not lie. Just not divulge the information.”

He shook his head.

“There’s no need to inform anyone that we’re not truly man and wife—that we’re merely partners.”

Eli snorted and started off.

“It’s our business and nobody else’s,” she called after him.

He didn’t stop.

She stood, shook the wrinkles out of her dress, and did what any lady would—calm her frantic heartbeat and compose herself.

But she couldn’t dispel the uneasiness. What kind of situation had she gotten herself into now?

The cool wind whipped at Priscilla’s cloak and threatened to tug her bonnet loose. She grabbed the middle deck’s promenade railing as the boat pitched her to and fro.

She’d hid in her stateroom in the stern long enough. As much as she wanted to avoid seeing Henry again and meeting his wife, she had to put aside her reservations. They would be traveling in close quarters for the next seven months and thereafter serving in a mission together.