An Unexpected Love (43 page)

As the carriage came to a halt in front of the Home a short time later, she wiped her eyes one final time and inhaled a deep breath. “You may pick me up at the usual time,” she called to the driver. With a determined stride she entered the Home and walked down the hall to the area designated for medical treatment.

Dr. Carstead pointed to the time. “I thought you’d decided to remain abed, Miss Broadmoor.”

Her shoulders tightened at the remark. She was only two minutes late, and he was already taking her to task. “I would remind you that I am a volunteer, Dr. Carstead. If I am two minutes late, I don’t expect to be chastised.” Her voice quivered, and he turned to look at her.

“Oh, please don’t cry. I didn’t think you were one of those weepy ladies who resort to tears when corrected.”

She forced herself to think of something pleasant, something happy, anything to keep from actually shedding a tear in front of this pompous man. “I am
not
crying. I am angry.”

His hazel eyes narrowed and considered her with great intensity. Then his voice softened with seeming concern. “You may not be crying at this moment, but you have been. What’s the matter, Amanda?”

She wasn’t certain if it was the gentleness of his final words or the fact that he hadn’t addressed her as Miss Broadmoor, but her tears coursed down her cheeks.

He yanked a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and shoved it into her hand. “If you don’t dry those tears, we’ll have enough water in here to compete with Niagara Falls. Come sit down and tell me what this is all about.”

Between hiccups she tried to explain, then finally retrieved the letter from her purse and shoved it toward him. “Read this.”

“You’re upset because they’ve denied you admission,” he said after perusing the letter. He handed the letter back to her. “So you plan to give up?”

“I wanted to appeal, but—”

He shook his head. “There’s no need for such drama, Miss Broadmoor—nor for that medical school. You can work and train with me. Few doctors are privileged enough to attend formal training at a college, but that hardly keeps them from becoming physicians. When I believe you’re adequately trained, you may be certified for medical practice.” He waved toward the patients waiting in the reception room. “There is no lack of patients here at the Home, and many of the women and children would prefer a woman doctor seeing to their needs.”

“You’re doing this because you feel sorry for me,” she murmured.

Blake laughed. “Miss Broadmoor, I have never felt sorry for you. You live a life of wealth and luxury that few will ever know. You are pampered and spoiled at every turn and are given your way so much of the time that a simple letter telling you no threatens to defeat you in full.”

Amanda sobered completely at his words. Gone were her tears and frustration with the school. “How dare you say I’m spoiled? You hardly know me well enough to make such judgments. I have never met a more objectionable man in all my life. All I want to do is learn about healing. I just want to serve my fellow man.”

He grinned and crossed his arms casually against his chest. “And I just offered you a way to do both.”

“But you said . . . you said that I was pampered and spoiled.”

“And you are. Do you deny that you have a new gown whenever you desire? Have you ever gone hungry because there wasn’t enough food in the cupboard?” He raised a dark brow and challenged her with his look to reply.

“Well, just because I have clothes and food hardly means I’m spoiled. I care about the people around me. I want to help others. Spoiled people do not seek to help anyone but themselves. They sit around focused on their own needs, and when they do not get their own way, they . . .” Her words trailed off. He was smiling at her, and the truth suddenly began to sink in.

“Yes? You were saying?”

“Oh bother.” She whirled on her heel. “There’s work to be done, and I’m not going to stand here and argue with you.”

“Good. I’m glad you see it my way.”

She turned abruptly and crashed against Blake, not realizing he had chosen to follow closely after her. He tried to steady her, but his touch so shocked Amanda that she pushed him away. The action served neither of them in good stead. They both landed on their backsides and could only sit staring at each other in surprise.

Amanda was mortified. She wanted to apologize but at the same time knew it would only bring another round of sarcasm from the good doctor.

Just then her uncle Quincy walked into the room. He looked at them both and grinned. “Are we so poor that we can’t afford furnishing chairs upon which you can sit?”

Carstead laughed and jumped to his feet. “Miss Broadmoor was merely showing me the lack of proper cleaning done in this room. No doubt she will wish to scrub the floor quite thoroughly after we tend to the sick.”

Amanda clenched her jaw but said nothing. Blake held out his hand in a rather tentative manner.

“If my touch doesn’t offend, might I assist you off the floor?”

Amanda looked at her uncle and then at Blake. “Thank you,” she managed to say. She took hold of his hand and was quickly on her feet.

“Well, if you two are done with the floor inspection,” Uncle Quincy said, “I believe I’ll get the papers you said you had for me, Blake.”

“Certainly.” Blake left Amanda and went to his desk.

“Amanda, should you wish to inspect the floors in my office,” Uncle Quincy said with a glance over his shoulder, “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Amanda shook her head and went to the hook by the door for her apron. “Men,” she muttered, knowing her uncle wouldn’t understand.

“Well, what do you think?” Paul asked when he and Amanda arrived in front of the house.

“The location isn’t bad, but let’s see what the inside is like before I render a final opinion, shall we?”

When the family had returned to Rochester the last day of August, Paul had anticipated a tour of the house with Amanda the following day and the finalization of the purchase—if it met with her approval. Unfortunately, his plans hadn’t coincided with Amanda’s. She’d been busy with her duties at the Home, and the Labor Day parade and celebration had interfered, as well.

“I’d begun to worry whether you would have time to visit the house before leaving for college,” he told her as they toured the grounds. “Mr. Jefferson has been anxious to sell, and I’ve been equally worried that he would sell to someone else. I’d hate to disappoint Sophie.”

“She would understand if the place was less than perfect for the two of you. But from what I see, it looks quite lovely.”

“The yard is nice, but it could use some bushes and flowers,” Amanda continued. “I like the large porch. Sophie can sit out here with the baby come springtime. And Fanny will have ideas for plantings. She’s the one who is talented with flowers and shrubs. I’m certain she’ll suggest lilac bushes along each side of the house.”

With paper and pencil in hand, Amanda instructed Paul to measure the rooms while she sketched them on the paper. Mr. Jefferson, the owner of the house, appeared baffled by the procedure, but he led them through the house and answered Amanda’s countless questions.

When they finally returned to the foyer, he rested his hands on his hips. “So are you going to buy? I can’t wait much longer for my money.”

Before Paul could reply, Amanda grasped Paul by the arm. “We need to speak privately for a moment,” she told Mr. Jefferson.

The older man heaved a sigh and ambled toward the parlor while Amanda and Paul stepped outside. “Down here,” she said, directing Paul toward the yard. “We don’t want him to hear what we say.”

“You don’t like the house?”

“I like it very much, but you should offer him less. He’s anxious to sell, and I think he’ll take a lower price.”

Paul frowned. “But the house is worth what he is asking.”

“Yes, but the economy has slowed considerably. Money is tight with many people, and everyone understands the need for compromise and bargaining.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Amanda said, hands on hips. “This is the way business is done. I’ve seen my father at work a hundred times before. Offer less.”

“How much less?” he asked.

She sensed his unease. “Let me talk to him.”

At Amanda’s urging, the owner agreed to lower the price by two hundred and fifty dollars. By afternoon’s end, the contract had been signed, money had passed hands, and Amanda’s sketches for Sophie were in the mail, along with a promise to add further details when she returned to the island for a visit.

She didn’t mention her admission to medical school had been denied. No need to mix bad news with good.

29

Saturday, October 15, 1898

The crispness of the fall air brought a smile to Paul’s face. He was anxious for Sophie’s return to Rochester, and he viewed each passing day as another step toward attaining his goal. His mother used to tell him such thinking was simply wishing one’s life away; Sophie had once told him her grandfather used to say the same thing. Apparently older people were more inclined to see it that way, but Paul didn’t believe it to be true. He believed his life would truly begin the day Sophie returned from Broadmoor Island.

For today, he would be content to surprise her with a visit. With new construction and additional residents at the Home, there had been little opportunity for him to do so. He and Amanda had made one journey to the island after his purchase of the house had been completed. Both Sophie and Fanny had been filled with excitement as they listened to the many attributes of the home. He grinned, remembering how his heart had swelled with pride when Sophie assured him she would be pleased with whatever he had chosen for them. Since that visit, their contact had been through letters. He’d been diligent in his effort to write, but Sophie’s letters had been sporadic. Seclusion on the island didn’t provide adequate fodder for letters, or so she said, but he would have been pleased with a daily update on her health.

Paul settled on the train, delighted he’d have the next few days to enjoy time with Sophie. His time at Broadmoor Island would also yield a brief respite for Fanny. Providing daily companionship for Sophie was no small chore, for his wife bored easily. He’d brought along several books for the two women to read, along with some fabric Amanda had sent with sewing instructions. If all of the baby clothes had been completed, Sophie and Fanny were to begin stitching kitchen curtains. He doubted Sophie would be pleased to see additional fabric and thread, yet he didn’t mention that fact to Amanda. After all, she’d done her share to put the new house in order.

Amanda had been by his side many evenings, helping to clean and decorate. She’d even enlisted Veda’s assistance. Paul wasn’t certain if the maid had come willingly, but she’d proved an excellent worker. In addition to her other good deeds, Amanda had convinced her father to release some of the household furnishings placed in storage after her grandfather’s death. Though Jonas had argued, he’d finally relented. But not without gaining Quincy’s agreement to reimburse him when the remainder of the furniture sold at auction. Paul had been taken aback by Jonas’s request, but Quincy had taken the matter in stride.

With his hand clutching the gift he’d purchased for Sophie, he dozed as the train moved from station to station, finally arriving in Clayton by early afternoon. He smiled when he noticed one of Captain Visegar’s boats waiting near the dock. It was late in the season, with few visitors arriving at the islands, and he had wondered if the captain would still be meeting trains arriving at the station. He strode down the aisle carrying his leather Gladstone traveling bag in one hand and a smaller canvas bag filled with the items from Amanda in the other.

Hoping to gain the captain’s attention, Paul dropped one of his bags at the end of the platform and waved his hat high overhead. It took but a moment before the captain saw him and motioned him forward. The captain cupped his hands to his mouth. “I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Come aboard.” His shout resonated across the wood expanse that separated them.

Paul handed his baggage down to the bearded man before stepping on board. “Glad to see you here. I was worried I might be forced to wait several hours now that the season has passed.”

The older man raked his calloused fingers through his mane of graying hair. “Don’t you fret, young man. You’ll find my boats on the water when most others are in dry dock.” He grinned and deep creases formed in his weatherworn cheeks. “You off to see your gal on Broadmoor Island?”

“My wife,” Paul corrected.

The captain tipped the brim of his hat. “That’s right. I had forgotten you married one of the Broadmoor girls. The darkhaired one that enjoyed the parties and dances over on Wellesley Island. I seem to recall she enjoyed the festivities at Frontenac Hotel, as well.”

Paul didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he said, “Sophie. I married Sophie. We’re expecting a baby around Christmastime.”

“Um-hmm. Doc said she was having some trouble, and he ordered her to stay put on the island until after the young’un was born. I’m guessin’ it’s a might hard for that gal to stay put. She never was one to let any grass grow under her feet.” He chuckled as he slowly maneuvered the boat away from the pier and then headed downriver. When they arrived at the Broadmoor dock a short time later, he once again tipped his hat. “Have a good visit.”