Bluebonnet Belle (9 page)

“If you say so, Miss Truitt.”

Riley chuckled. “So that's where that delicious pie came from. Some woman baked it for you.”

“Pie?” April glanced at Gray.

He shrugged, looking guilty. “He was hungry. It was less stressful to feed him than to enforce his new diet at the time.”

“He's trying to starve me,” Riley groused.

“Don't be in a hurry to leave,” Gray said, directing his patient back into the examining room. “I want to listen to your heart one more time.”

April started to follow, but he closed the door in her face.

Sitting down in one of the padded chairs, she leafed through a magazine, listening to the muffled sound of men's voices behind the closed door. That was just like a doctor, thinking women didn't “need” to be involved in medical discussions.

When she heard Riley's laughter over some story the doctor was telling, she almost envied them their camaraderie. Dr. Fuller didn't find anything amusing when he was with her.

Tossing the magazine aside, she studied the office, finding it not much different than it had been when Joe McFarland had it. Evidently Dr. Fuller wasn't concerned about impressions. A vase, three feet tall, in shades of blue, purple, green and brown, didn't seem to fit the rest of the decor. She'd seen prettier. Maybe his French friend could lend some advice on decorating. The idea disturbed April so much that she snatched up the magazine and started leafing through the pages.

Straightening, she sighed, wishing Henry would get back. Obviously, she had too much time on her hands if she was thinking about Gray Fuller's personal life.

Her gaze returned to the closed door of the examining room as the sound of laughter drifted out again. What could Riley and the doctor find to laugh about?

Getting up, she started to pace. Finally the door of the examining room opened. Riley came out, buttoning his shirt, followed by Gray.

“Well?” April demanded, trying to decide if the flush on her grandpa's face was from exertion or laughter.

“Your grandfather should rest for a few days. Don't let him do anything strenuous.”

“I have a business to run,” Riley reminded him.

“Let someone else do it for a while. Your health is far more important.”

“Well, that's nice, but I don't have anyone who
can
do it. Most folks are skittish about letting someone new take care of their loved ones. I'll be just fine,” Riley said.

“Grandpa, the doctor said
rest
. And that's what you'll do,” April said. “Beginning now. Thank you, Doctor. What do I owe you?”

His gaze swept over her and she flushed. His eyes were the most unusual shade of green. Like pictures she'd seen of the ocean, just before a storm.

“A dollar.”

She paid him, then steered Riley toward the door.

“I like that young man,” her grandfather said, as they started down the sidewalk. The spring was out of his step this afternoon. “Seems to know his business. Nice office. Fancy.”

Dr. Fuller might be a barrel of laughs, but he hadn't given her a diagnosis of Riley's condition. It occurred to her that he'd not said anything definitive about it, and she wondered why.

Her own heart nearly stopped with fright. Was there something seriously wrong? So bad that he didn't want to frighten Riley by mentioning it?

Escorting her grandfather down the sidewalk, April realized she had to go back and talk to that infuriating man alone. Her gaze fell on the fancy buggy parked in front of the hotel.

If
he could spare the time.

“Where's the fire?” Riley blustered, trying to keep up with her.

“Sorry, Grandpa,” April murmured. She slowed immediately, aware that he couldn't be rushed. She wanted to get him out of Dr. Fuller's hands and into more competent care. Hers.

A
fter breakfast the next morning, Riley went straight to the side porch with a stack of journals and stayed there throughout the morning. Apparently he was taking the doctor's order to rest seriously. Jimmy Peters, a neighboring teenager, agreed to help with the heavy work. Other than Sadie Finley's service that afternoon, business was quiet.

The nagging suspicion that Dr. Fuller hadn't told her everything wore on April's mind. Midmorning she gave up trying to concentrate. She simply had to know if Gray Fuller thought Riley's weak spells were getting worse. Being as he was a doctor, his opinion wasn't of much value to her, but if she were to treat Grandpa effectively with herbal medicine, she needed to know what she was fighting.

Dropping what she was doing, she changed into a pretty, lavender cotton dress with matching hat and gloves. The change wasn't intended for Dr. Fuller's approval, she assured herself as she checked her hair once again in the downstairs hall mirror. She had made it a practice to look her best when she conducted business.

“I'm going out for a while,” she called to Riley as she passed the door to the side porch. “You stay right where you are until I get back.”

“What am I, a child?”

“Yes, and you're being punished.” She laughed at his indignant growl. “Jimmy's here if you need him.”

“I'll be fine. Stop your fussing.”

He seemed to be himself this morning, and April was relieved. Still, she was concerned about him, and Dr. Fuller was the only person who had the answers she needed.

A brisk wind rolled off the water as April walked toward the center of town. The weather was cooler this morning. A distinct touch of fall was in the air. Low, pewter-colored clouds building in the west promised rain by evening.

Making her way along the cobbled street, April breathed in the smells of burning leaves and fresh bread from the bakery.

Tall ships crowded the port. Casks of whale oil and bundles of whalebone were piled high on the bustling piers. Not many big vessels came in this time of year, just enough to create a good business for everyone in town.

Weathered houses built seventy-five to a hundred years earlier lined the roads that intersected the main thoroughfare coming inland from the wharf. The houses were small and unassuming, with one room for cooking and dining, plus living and sleeping quarters adjacent for the husband and wife. Children and servants made do with a loft above the main room.

Toward the center of town, near the square, shop windows were filled with jewel-colored glassware, copper pans, drapes of fabric, ready-made dresses and millinery. Wonderful aromas drifted from a spice shop, exotic goods that came to Dignity from faraway places. Larger cargo ships passed by and put in at the Houston port, but many smaller ones stopped here first.

April paused at the shoemaker's window to look at a pair of red leather boots. Henry didn't like red, but Gray and his Frenchie friend obviously would. What better reason for April to pass up the boots?

Stepping around fresh mounds left by a flock of sheep being herded down the street in front of her, she heard the schoolhouse bell ring, and quickly moved out of the way of a young boy who was in a desperate race to make it to his seat before the last peal.

“Milk, cheese, butter. Get your fresh milk, cheese, butter churned just this morning.” A ruddy-faced farmer was making his morning rounds, hawking farm goods from a wooden cart. More than likely his wife had been up before dawn to help him milk, churn butter and wrap cheese for him to sell to the grocer, and then peddle what was left on the street. Grandfather's profession provided a comfortable income, and when she married Henry, he, too, would provide for them well.

The sight of the doctor's office set her heart to racing. Oh, how she dreaded facing his piercing gaze and his holier-than-thou attitude. She hated even more the way he could start her stomach fluttering with one careless look. What did she care if the new physician was the most sought-after man in town? Henry wasn't a troll.

Beulah's earlier words suddenly colored the pleasant walk.
Henry will never ask you to marry him.

Her best friend was wrong. April wasn't a fool. She knew Henry had faults, but who didn't? He would make a fine, solid family man, who would rear his children to believe and trust in the Lord. True, she'd never paid particular attention to him growing up. He'd favored the girls too much, preferring to play one against the other. But he was different now, just as she was older and more appreciative of his outgoing nature. At least he didn't kiss women on Main Street in broad daylight. But then, Henry could use a little more spontaneity—the sort the good doctor had in abundance….

Admittedly, Henry had taken her by storm when he'd decided to court her. Unaccustomed to such undivided attention, she was caught up in the excitement of having a man like Henry openly vying for her favors. Like Beulah, April wouldn't have thought she would be magnetized by a man with his propensity to flatter, but she was.

Too much so, she was afraid.

Dr. Fuller's waiting room was empty when she opened the door. She could ask her questions and leave. The hum of voices coming from the examining room told her the doctor was in and busy. She stared around the place, deciding again that she liked the way it looked. Plain and functional.

She moved around the room, studying the decorations. A wooden hat rack that dated back to Joe McFarland hung on one wall. She looked at a lithograph entitled
The Stag at Bay
, and a picture of two children standing on a bridge over a dangerous-looking chasm, with angels hovering around them with outstretched arms. Probably came with the office. She couldn't see a pigheaded man like Gray Fuller choosing anything so sentimental.

The ugly vase was in a corner, but somehow looking out of place.

Curious, April bent to study the piece. Three feet tall, it had an intricate pattern of crouched figures in purple and blue, entwined with ropy green and brown vines and tree branches. Noticing it was already dusty, April extracted a handkerchief from her bag and wiped the vase clean, looking closely at the small, intricate drawings that made up the design circling the base.

When the bell over the door rang, she turned, expecting to find a neighbor arriving. Instead, Gray's lady friend swept in on a cloud of expensive-smelling perfume.

Snapping blue eyes in a pale, heart-shaped face framed by a cloud of sooty black hair scanned April imperiously.

Whoever she is
, April decided,
she's absolutely gorgeous. And rich. Extremely rich, if those stones in her earrings are real.
The dress she was wearing must have cost a fortune, and the ruby brooch pinned to her bodice was most certainly genuine.

“Oh, I'm glad you're here.”

April lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

Closing the door, the woman crossed the room to run a gloved finger over the mahogany table serving as a receptionist desk—the only piece of good furniture in the room. “I expect this to be dusted properly every day and oiled once a month. The carpet is to be taken out and beaten at least once a week. And that vase. You do realize what it is?”

“I believe I do,” April said hesitantly, aware the woman had her confused with the cleaning lady.

“It's of the Ming dynasty. It must be handled very carefully. It's museum quality, you know. I'm sure even
you
understand that. Is the doctor in?”

“I believe he's with a patient,” she said, not bothering to correct the woman.

“Well, remember what I've told you about caring for the wood.” The outer door opened again. “Oh, excellent!”

Two men came in, one carrying framed pictures, the other two potted plants.

“Put them down by…” Laying her fingertip on her cheek, the woman frowned. “Oh dear, it is a bit crowded, isn't it?”

The door to the examining room opened, and Gray emerged ahead of a young boy and his mother.

“Don't be putting anything else up your nose, young man,” he admonished, ruffling the lad's hair affectionately.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Freeda Brown said. “Come on, Robert, you'll not be missing school because of this.” She ushered her young son out of the office in a flurry.

“Francesca,” Gray acknowledged, closing the door behind the pair.

“Good morning, darling.”

When he glanced at April, his expression tightened. “Is your grandfather feeling worse this morning?”

Ignoring Francesca, who was suddenly busy directing the men on where and how to hang the new pictures and where to position the plants, April raised her voice to be heard above the fray. “He seems more like himself today, but I—” She glanced at the other woman, who was dragging a chair across the floor. “I'm concerned about him. You didn't say what you thought…” She gave up trying to talk above the noise of the men hammering nails into the walls.

Gray regarded her quizzically, waiting for her to continue.

Suddenly feeling awkward and out of place, April wished she'd waited to speak with him. Apparently this wasn't the best time to garner his concentration.

“I—I noticed yesterday that you didn't actually say what you thought about Grandfather's condition.”

Gray suddenly shouted, “Francesca. Can't that wait?”

The hammering temporarily ceased. Her eyes wide, the beauty blinked back at him. “Sorry, darling. Go right on with whatever you're doing. You won't bother us.”

Turning back to April, Gray indicated for her to continue. “You were saying about your grandfather?”

“Just…is there a reason why you didn't elaborate on his condition?” She found herself extremely conscious of him this morning. He had this special way of focusing on her as if she were the only person in the room. No wonder single women found any excuse to visit him. Why, if she didn't have Henry, she might be tempted…. But she did have Henry, and Gray Fuller was a doctor, the last man she would be interested in.

“As I indicated yesterday, your grandfather needs to take it easier. Rest. Eat more vegetables and fruit. Take a long walk every day.” Gray leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. She detected a faint whiff of soap and water—French soap, no doubt. “And have him stay away from that elixir you're selling.”

April felt a flash of anger. “Because of you, that won't be a problem. Grandpa has forbidden me to sell the compound.”

“Good.”

When she stiffened with resentment, he continued. “Joe McFarland's diagnosis, in my opinion, was correct. Your grandfather isn't a young man. He needs to slow down.”

“I've told him that, but he won't listen.”

The workmen were making so much noise again it was practically impossible to carry on a normal conversation.

“Do the best you can,” Gray said, smiling at her with candor, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

She was stunned by her reaction. Her heart thumped like that of a foolish schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. Why, she was no different than the other besotted women in town.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“You're most welcome, Miss Truitt.”

He smiled again, as if he knew the effect his smile had on her.

“Gray, darling, come tell me what you think about putting this plant here—”

Turning on her heel, April strode quickly out of the office and closed the door firmly behind her. The giggle that had been threatening burst into full-blown laughter.
You might be a fancy Dallas lady, but you have no idea what it takes to be accepted in Dignity
, April thought.
And Gray Fuller's an even bigger fool if he believes the people of this town think fancy paintings and plants will make him a good doctor
.

April giggled again, and Mrs. Handleman gawked at her as she walked past the bank.

Remembering her manners, April forced a straight face. “Morning, Mrs. Handleman.”

The banker's wife nodded, looking as if she thought April had lost her mind.

Swallowing another giggle, April set off for the pharmacy, anxious to tell Beulah about Dr. Fuller's lady friend, who seemed bent on making him the laughingstock of the town.

 

Riley was playing checkers with Jimmy on the side porch when April arrived home. Realizing she hadn't spoken with Lydia Pinkham in a couple of days, and wanting information on Will and Henry and their efforts in Austin, she decided to visit her that afternoon. The woman wasn't in the first flush of youth, so would likely be resting. But April would make the visit brief.

Satisfied Riley would be fine for a few hours, she told Datha she'd be back by supper.

“He wouldn't eat his fruit at lunch,” Datha complained. “Says it gives him a stomachache.”

“I'll talk to him.”

“Yes, April girl. That would sure help.”