Cassandra Austin (7 page)

“I ought to get back,” he said, finally. “I forgot to put the note on the door.”

She turned and smiled. “See you at dinner, then.”

After the easy dismissal, he walked across her yard and his and entered through his back door. For some odd reason he couldn’t imagine Doreena following him.

Jane watched Adam leave and let the forced smile fade. If she believed her grandmother, which she thought she did, she should be warning Doreena away, not feeling jealous. More evidence that she wasn’t thinking clearly.

But how could she when he looked at her the way he had? And what had he read in her face? Her weakness wasn’t her loneliness. Her weakness was Adam Hart. And it was possible that he knew it.

Over the next several days, Jane threw herself into her housecleaning. Adam sat next to her at meals twice a day but he never stayed to help. She made sure of that. When he offered, she told him she had some other task she needed to do before she started the dishes. Eventually, he quit offering.

After a few cold days that changed the leaves to gold and brown, the weather turned warm again, making it possible for Jane to continue airing out curtains and bedding.

Adam was seeing more patients now, she noticed.
Not that she was watching his house. He lived right next door. She couldn’t help but notice.

He stopped by nearly every day with questions about one family or another, sometimes because they were patients, but usually because they had asked to be considered as homes for the orphans. Jane was always busy with the cleaning, and he always pitched in for a few minutes.

Since the school term wouldn’t start until November, Jane still had an occasional small visitor. Suzy Gibbons skipped in during one of Adam’s visits. Jane was on a ladder removing the parlor curtains, and Adam was trying to convince her to let him take her place.

“Whatcha doin’, Aunt Jane?” queried the youngster.

“Aunt Jane is trying to break her neck,” Adam answered.

“Why you wanna break your neck?”

“Adam,” Jane scolded, forgetting for a moment that she should speak to him no more than necessary, “don’t lie to little girls.”

She tried to ignore Adam’s laugh as she released the rod from its bracket and let the curtains fall to the floor. “I need to clean-the curtains,” she said as she backed down the ladder.

“Did you get jelly on ‘em?”

There was Adam’s laugh again. “No, they’re just dusty,” she answered, trying to ignore him completely.

Suzy scowled at the curtains, then shrugged off
the dust as unimportant. “I came to see if you had any cookies. Mama didn’t make any ‘cause I was bad, so I’m running away.”

Jane responded as casually as she could, “This is the third time, isn’t it?”

Suzy pinched her eyes closed and scratched the end of her tiny nose. She raised the fingers of her other hand to keep count. “There was the jelly on the curtains, the torn dress, the broken egg. and this time.” She opened her eyes to look at her fingers. “Four.”

Jane tried to keep her voice stern. “And this time was…?”

Suzy’s brow furrowed. “This time was nothin’!”

“Suzy?”

Suzy stomped one little leather-clad foot. “Do you got any cookies or not?”

“Not until you tell me.”

She seemed to think it over for a minute. “Mama says I sassed but I was just sayin’ what’s what.”

Adam came forward and knelt down at Suzy’s level. “What does your mama do when you break the rules?”

Jane wanted to push him aside and tell him to let her handle Suzy. How was she supposed to fall out of love with him when he displayed so much concern for a little girl?

However, his charm seemed to be lost on Suzy. She scowled at him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Hart. I’m a friend of Aunt Jane’s.” He tossed a questioning look over his shoulder, but Jane
only gazed at him. She knew what he was getting at. She didn’t think there was anything wrong at the Gibbons’s house, but Adam might get different answers than she had.

Suzy pointed at Adam. “If you’re her friend,
you
ask her for cookies.”

“I think I can talk her into cookies,” Adam said. “But I want to know what your mama does.”

“Grown-ups always want
somethin’,”
the little girl grumbled. “She sends me to my room and forgets I’m there.”

“How long does she keep you in your room?”

Suzy’s eyes got big. “For weeks!”

“Suzy,” Jane said in a warning tone.

“Well, sometimes clear ‘til supper.”

“And that’s all she does?”

Suzy leaned toward him, her cheeks turning pink. “She plays with the dumb ol’ baby. She makes the baby laugh while
I’m
stuck in my room. They’re
glad
I’m gone.”

Suzy’s lower lip trembled. She brushed past Adam and ran into Jane’s arms. Jane gathered her up and let the little girl bury her face in her neck. “I know it’s hard to be a big sister.”

Suzy mumbled something that was too muffled to understand.

“She started running away when her sister was born,” Jane explained to Adam as she carried the little girl toward the kitchen. “I give her a cookie and send her home.”

“This time I’m not going back!”

Jane set Suzy on a kitchen chair. “I can’t make you, I guess,” she said as she got the tin of cookies. “But that seems kind of mean.”

“They’re the ones who’s mean.”

“Maybe,” Jane said. “But remember your first day of school? If it hadn’t been for Mandy next door, you couldn’t have done it. Who’s Becky going to go with her first day? Mandy will be done.”

“I don’t care.” Suzy reached for the tin, but Jane hadn’t opened it yet, and Suzy had never been able to make the lid cooperate with her little fingers.

“And who’s going to teach Becky how to climb a tree? Your mother?”

Suzy actually laughed. “She can’t climb a tree.”

“Becky’ll have to find some boy to teach her.”

Suzy made a face. “Yuck!”

“What’s wrong with boys?” Adam asked.

Jane bit her lip. “So, are you going back?”

Suzy let out a long, low groan. “I guess so. But I still think she’s stupid.”

Jane popped the lid off the tin and held it out for Suzy to choose a cookie. “She’ll get smarter. Just give her some time.”

Suzy grabbed a cookie and slid off the chair. She left a little trail of crumbs all the way to the back door.

“Doesn’t giving her cookies encourage her to run away?” Adam asked once the little girl was gone.

“I don’t know,” Jane said. “As long as she comes to me when she runs away, her mother knows where to find her.”

Adam sat in the chair Suzy had vacated and reached for the tin. “So you’ve talked to her mother?”

Jane turned to start some coffee. “She told me Suzy started throwing tantrums when her sister was born. Any little scolding can set her off. The baby, of course, is never in trouble for anything.”

“I was afraid she was being punished for what sounded to me like accidents.”

Jane sat down across the table from him. She shouldn’t be doing this. She had work to do. But she was so tired a cup of coffee might help her get through the rest of the day. “The jelly was spread on the curtain with a knife. The egg was broken against the wall, and the dress she tore was her sister’s.

“But I wondered, too, the first time. She was a little vague on what she had actually done and what her mother’s reaction had been. There wasn’t a mark on her, though, except a scrape on her shoulder from going through the window.”

“I guess I’m starting to imagine things, after interviewing families for the orphans. I just don’t like to think of any child being mistreated.”

Jane got up to gather the cups for the coffee. “There’s only so much we can do, Adam. We can’t interfere with the parents.”

“What are you saying?”

Jane couldn’t turn to look at him. She watched the pot instead. “Not. all children are treated well by their parents. I let the ones who aren’t come for
cookies, too, or stay the night while their parents cool off. That’s all I can do.”

“Tell me who they are.” He rose and moved to stand beside her. She could feel his warmth, smell his clean masculine scent.

Jane shook her head. “If they ask for an orphan, I’ll tell you. But otherwise, the children wouldn’t want you to know.”

He was quiet—thoughtful, she supposed-while she waited for the coffee to brew. She was torn between wishing he’d return to the table and wanting to lean against him.

His fingers skimmed the side of her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I think you’re overdoing this housecleaning project.”

She reached a shaking hand up to her tingling cheek. “How can a house be too clean?” Her voice held the slightest quiver.

“What difference does it make how clean the house is if you work yourself to death?”

She grabbed up the coffeepot and brushed past him to the table.
Don’t turn your concern on me. I’m not prepared to handle it.
She forced a laugh.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“You look more exhausted every day. Having curtains with no dust isn’t worth that.”

Jane took a sip of coffee, trying to decide how much to tell him. “I have to work hard all day in order to sleep at night,” she said finally.

“You’re still grieving for your grandmother.”

“Yes.” That was part of it, of course, but finan
cial worries were a larger part. And dreams about

Adam himself. But she couldn’t tell him that.

“I could give you something to help you sleep,” he offered.

“No,” she said. “I think this is something I need to work out myself.”

She took a sip of coffee and changed the subject. “I have another boarder. A young man named Ferris Wood looking for business opportunities. You’ll meet him at dinner.”

“I suppose I should let you get back to work,” Adam said.

Jane passed him the tin of cookies and said with a smile, “Don’t scatter crumbs like Suzy did.”

A
dam had taken to walking to the post office every day. So much time had passed without a word from Doreena that he was surprised when a letter was actually waiting. He hurried home to read it, feeling an odd sort of dread as well as anticipation. After he had gone through it twice, he tossed it on his desk and paced across the room.

It was the kind of letter he had expected her to write when he first arrived. It was filled with descriptions of all the functions she had attended, all the friends she had seen here or there. Somehow, after the dozen letters he had sent her, he had expected a little more.

He had thought she would say something about coming west, even if it was a refusal. He had thought she would at least comment on his practice or something that he had written to her.

Maybe she hadn’t gotten his letters. He hurried back to the desk and skimmed the letter again. No,
there it was. “I’ve received your many letters and find them a comfort, as I miss you very much.”

Well, at least she missed him.

Moments before, Adam had been hoping there would be no interruptions. Now he found himself relieved when the door opened, at least until he turned and saw Rose Finley enter with her third daughter.

“Good morning, Mrs. Finley,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “This must be Rosemary.”

“Why, yes.” Mrs. Finley was evidently pleased he had been asking about her family. “Rosemary.” She gave her daughter a shove. “Meet Dr. Hart.”

“How ya doin’, Doc.” Her mother cleared her throat, and Rosemary tried a mock curtsy.

Adam couldn’t resist a smile. Jane was right. He liked her already. “What seems to be the problem?”

“You know, I think I feel just fine, now. Sorry to bother you, Doc.” She turned to leave, but her mother effectively blocked the way.

“Now, we wouldn’t want your condition to go untreated, Rosemary, in case it’s serious.”

Rosemary hung her head and turned back around. “Which way?” she asked.

Adam pointed toward the examination room. Once she was out of her mother’s sight, Rosemary perked up. “Isn’t Mama something?” she asked as soon as the door was closed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, is there?”

Rosemary shrugged. “I’m supposed to show you
the scrape on my knee if I can’t think of anything better. You want to see it?”

“Might as well.”

Rosemary hopped up on the stool and flipped up her dress without displaying the least bit of bashfulness. “I’ve been puttin’ Mama off for weeks, then this happened, and I couldn’t do it anymore. It’s a honey, though.” She rolled down her stocking and unwound a white bandage. “I got it getting Riley’s ball off the roof. That’s my brother. He was scared to try to climb the trellis. I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I’d been wearing pants. Try to explain
that
to Mama.”

Rosemary had taken most of the skin off the lower part of her knee. Adam knelt on the floor to get a better look. It seemed to be healing nicely. “Did you treat it with anything?”

Rosemary bent forward and poked at the edges. “I put honey on it. Mama wanted to wash it with vinegar, but I lied and said I already had.”

Adam rose to get some ointment that might be a little more effective than honey or vinegar. “You lie to your mother at lot, do you?”

“Oh yes! We all do. It’s the only way to live with her. You should hear what my sisters told her happened in here.”

Adam winced. “I think I can live without that.”

Rosemary shrugged. “I know what really happened ‘cause they told each other. We never lie to each other.”

He returned to the girl with the jar in hand. “I’m more curious what your mother told you.”

Rosemary laughed. “Mama wants you for a sonin-law. You should be flattered. She’s letting you have your pick of the litter.”

Adam spread the salve gently on the wound. “So, what are you going to tell her?”

“First I’m going to tell her that you’re awfully old.”

Adam looked up to see her smiling down at him. “You don’t know how nice it is to hear that.”

She laughed. “You should tell her this is terribly infected, and it’ll cost a lot to take care of it. In fact, I should stay with Aunt Jane ‘til it heals or you’ll have to cut off my leg.”

“Just what Aunt Jane needs,” he muttered. He got a clean bandage and rewrapped the knee.

“At least tell her you put twenty dollars’ worth of stuff on it. And tell her,” she continued as she rolled her stocking back into place, “that you think I’m dumb or ugly or something. Mouthy! She’ll believe that.”

Adam helped her off the stool. “I think you’re the pick of the litter, but you’re too young to leave your mama.”

Rosemary scowled. “That’s not going to help me for very long!”

Mrs. Finley seemed pleased to see him smiling when he escorted Rosemary back into the front room. She paid the dollar and nickel quite cheer
fully, and promised she’d be seeing him again soon. Rosemary rolled her eyes at Adam before she followed her mother out the door.

Jane thought young Ferris was fitting in nicely. He had found employment at George’s bank and seemed to be settling in as if he expected to stay awhile. With all four rooms upstairs filled, she needed to prepare to move out of the downstairs bedroom at a moment’s notice. Tonight after supper she would move all the things in Grams’s dresser into one of the trunks in the attic. Her own dresser could be quickly moved into the room off the kitchen when she got another boarder.

Jane was rushing around putting the final touches on dinner when Adam arrived. He didn’t come to the kitchen to see if he could help like he used to. The last several days he had waited in the parlor with the rest until she called them for dinner.

Still, she knew the moment he arrived. Even before she heard his voice, she recognized his step. She had thought the distance she had forged between them would help keep her from thinking of him. It hadn’t worked that way at all.

He even seemed to be cooperating with her plan. He spent less time with her, and when they were together the conversation rarely got personal. Not since he had told her she was working too hard.

Jane took a last inventory of the table, straightened her spine, put a smile on her face and went to
call the guests. She stood in the hall for a moment admiring her parlor. The furniture gleamed with polish and the windows sparkled. Fresh cockscomb and strawflowers graced every tabletop. She was sure the curtains and the rug looked a shade brighter for having been thoroughly cleaned. Grams would have been proud of her.

And proud of her, too, for not letting anything come of her attraction to Adam. He was watching her, of course. He was the only one who noticed her presence.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone,” she said.

They trooped to the table and took their usual places. Even Mr. Bickford was on time. The conversation centered on the activities of the town and was intended mainly for their newest member. The Cartland sisters vied for Ferris’s attention, much to the obvious relief of both Adam and Mr. Bickford.

Jane only half listened. She was already planning how to get Grams’s things up to the attic. What chore could she tackle tomorrow? Mr. Bickford’s room hadn’t been cleaned yet; he spent a lot of time there writing and hadn’t been receptive to the suggestion. Perhaps he would be willing to name a day when she could do a thorough cleaning. Once it and her bedroom were done the house would be as clean as she could make it.

The others were leaving the table when Adam said softly, “Let me stay and help you.”

He hadn’t asked for so long it startled her.
“That’s not necessary,” she said quickly. “I was going to sort through some of Grams’s things before I start on the dishes.”

Adam shook his head. “You can go through her things after the dishes are done. Or better yet, put it off until tomorrow. I want to talk to you.”

As soon as the others had left the room, Jane gathered a stack of dishes. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Adam do the same. It felt a little like old times, except now she knew she was in love with him and understood just how foolish that was. Her only defense was to pretend that nothing was different from the first time he had stayed to help.

“What did you want to talk about?” she said as they walked to the kitchen.

“I think you’re working too hard.”

“You told me that before. Want to wash or dry?”

“Jane, I’m serious. You’re too pale. You’ve lost weight. There are shadows under your eyes again.”

There was no use denying any of it. “You sure know how to compliment a girl,” she said, hoping her smile looked real.

“Are you getting any sleep at all?”

“Of course, I am.” She turned away to gather more dishes. He trailed behind her.

“Look, maybe it’s none of my business, but I thought we were friends.”

“It’s kind of you to worry,” she said. “But I’m fine, really.”

“No, you’re not fine.” He took the dishes from
her hands and put them back on the table. “This place is too much for you to handle alone.”

A suggestion was one thing. Telling her what she couldn’t do was another. Especially when he was the primary cause of her sleepless nights. “I’ll have you know I’ve run this boardinghouse for years.”

“With your grandmother’s help. You’re alone now. You need to consider doing something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Sit down for a minute, Jane.”

“I have work to. do.” She gathered up more dishes and headed for the kitchen.

He followed her, of course. “What I’m getting at is that if you do decide to give up the boardinghouse, I’d like to buy it.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks. “You want to buy my house?”

She let him ease her into the chair that stood just inside the kitchen and lift the stack of plates from her hands. “I’d have to arrange something with the bank, or maybe Doreena’s parents.”

He turned away from her to begin washing the dishes. He seemed to be talking to himself more than to her. Or perhaps it was the buzzing in her ears that produced that impression. He wanted to buy her house. For Doreena. Was there any truth in his declaration of concern?

“I just wanted you to know there are other options besides working yourself to death at the boardinghouse.
I’ve seen you with children. You’d make a wonderful teacher.”

The logical part of Jane’s brain told her teaching was a good idea, since she loved children and would never have any of her own. Another part of her brain had no interest in logic. Female teachers weren’t allowed to marry. Was that why he’d suggested it? Pretty women found husbands in a matter of days, he had said. What did that make her? Such a poor catch she might as well give up?
He
didn’t know she had vowed never to marry!

He continued to talk about the house and Doreena, citing what she had been used to. Jane gathered he had received his first letter from her and hadn’t been encouraged by what she had said. Jane was in no mood to be sympathetic.

Yet part of her yearned to explain. While she couldn’t tell him her foolish longings were keeping her awake, she was tempted to tell him about her financial difficulties. She couldn’t sell him the house even if she wanted to because she didn’t entirely own it.
That
was why she worked so hard. She needed to maintain her reputation for running the best boardinghouse in the area.

Grams’s warnings kept her lips sealed. That would be telling him her weakness. Or her second greatest weakness. And what might he do with it if he truly wanted the house? One rumor of a less than healthful meal and her reputation could be ruined.
She would lose the house, and he could make his arrangements with the bank.

She told herself that Adam would never do such a thing. However, since she was blindly in love with him, she didn’t trust her own judgment. She’d have to rely on Grams’s advice.

“I can’t sell the house, Adam,” she said, rising and walking to the drawer that held the tea towels. She didn’t dare look at him; her pain was sure to show in her eyes. “This is my
home.” Or almost.

Whether he accepted that or not, Jane wasn’t sure. At least he quit describing how much Doreena would like her house. It was a wonder, she decided, that he didn’t suggest she stay on to cook and clean for Doreena. She realized she was drying a platter a little more forcefully than was necessary and tried to quit torturing herself with the prospect.

Half of the dishes were done before he spoke again. “Please consider slowing up a bit with the housecleaning.”

“I just want everything done before the children come.”

Adam turned to smile at her. “These children aren’t going to notice.”

“No,” she admitted, “but their sponsors might.” They were prospective customers, of course. But that wasn’t all there was to it. While Adam interviewed families and judged whether they could take a child or not, she felt a strong desire for him to find her worthy, too.

* * *

Adam knew he had hurt Jane’s feelings. He was truly worried about her. More than the symptoms of exhaustion that he had mentioned, there was a sadness about her that tore at his heart. But it was natural for her to miss her grandmother. The house must be full of reminders of happier days and terribly sad ones. He had thought she might welcome a chance to get away from it. He had hoped she might welcome a chance to do something less taxing as well.

Instead she thought he had insulted her. Questioned her abilities. Dismissed the importance of her home. He hadn’t meant to do any of those. He had only meant to help her.

And himself. The house seemed like the only thing that might possibly tempt Doreena to join him. He described it in his next letter, stating that he was looking into the possibility of buying it. It wasn’t exactly a lie, though there was no way he could persuade himself that it was entirely the truth.

All’s fair in love,
he thought as he took the letter to the post office.
Or better yet, desperate times call for desperate measures.

A few patients, interviews with prospective families and meetings with the other members of the placing board kept him busy during the next several days. The day the orphans were scheduled to arrive, he received Doreena’s response.