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Authors: Molly Jebber

BOOK: Change of Heart
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She raised her eyebrows. “Start at the beginning.”
Matt chuckled. “There is not much to tell. Miss Bloomingdale is a brash woman. Her laugh, mannerisms, and opinions about life in general are the opposite of mine. No matter, they understand I am not available. Next, Miss Bloomingdale chattered on and on about meeting President McKinley and the First Lady. I might have found this part of the conversation interesting, if anyone else but Miss Bloomingdale had been talking about it.”
Dorothy laughed and almost dropped her coffee cup. “You must have been miserable having to spend the evening with such an arrogant woman.”
“Yes, miserable would describe the evening quite well.”
The door opened and startled the three of them.
A bodacious woman in a low-cut dress and tangled red hair hanging halfway down her back barged in. She held a blood-soaked towel to her cheek. Her two front teeth were missing. “I'm Gertrude Evans. I work over at the Horseshoe Saloon. A fight broke out between two men. One of the men threw a glass at the other man. It hit me instead. Will you look at it for me, Doc?”
“Yes. I am Dr. Carrington. This is Dorothy Watts, and this is Becca Yost, my nurse.”
The woman picked up Dorothy's trash can and spit a disgusting wad of tobacco in it.
Dorothy winced.
Matt stifled his chuckle and followed Becca and Miss Evans into the exam room. “If you will have a seat on the table, I will take a look at your cheek.”
Matt removed the towel from her wound. The bleeding had slowed. “Becca, will you please gather what I need to suture Miss Evans's wound. I will clean it.”
Becca gathered what he needed and brought them to him.
“Cute little nurse you got there, Doc. Are you and she courtin'?”
“I do not discuss my personal life with my patients.”
“Whew, Doc, you're a little grumpy. You might want to come visit me. I'll lighten your mood. Why, I'll only charge you half as much as I charge other men.”
Becca blushed.
“Miss Evans, please remain still while I suture your cut. If you cooperate, I will do my best to leave you with the smallest scar possible for this type of wound.” He paused. “You owe Miss Yost an apology for your rude remark.” He waited for her reply.
“Sorry. I shouldn't have been so mouthy. I'll behave.”
“I accept your apology. You can call me Becca.”
“Call me Gertrude. I don't like bein' called Miss Evans. I'm only twenty-three. It makes me feel like an old woman.”
Matt could not believe it. Becca did not judge Gertrude and treated her with respect, even after the woman had been offensive. She amazed him once again.
After the patient left, Dorothy pushed through the door. “Gertrude Evans has to be the most brazen woman we have ever had in this office. I had to fight the urge to gag when she spit tobacco in my trash can.”
Matt and Becca held their stomachs and laughed.
Matt caught his breath. “She is different.”
“She obviously leads a hard life. I don't understand what goes on in a saloon, and I don't want to. I've had men stagger into me when I walk by there. They smell like alcohol and struggle to stand. I don't understand why she would want to work in a saloon.”
The sheriff burst in and interrupted Becca. He breathed heavy and bent over to rest a minute. His hat fell off his bald head, and a button popped off his tight-fitting shirt covering his round stomach. His ruddy face was streaked with dirt.
Matt put his hand on the sheriff's shoulder. “Something is wrong. What is it?”
“Micah fell again. I told his mother I would find you. She said the boy is asking for Becca. I've got my wagon outside We can all ride together.”
Becca's face drained of color. “How bad is he hurt?”
“His mother told me Micah worked all afternoon building a mound of dirt. He jumped off the back porch, aiming for the pile. Instead, he landed on a pile of wood. She managed to walk him in the house and to bed but said he complained of a headache.”
Matt grabbed his bag. “Dorothy, if anyone comes in, explain to them Becca and I had to tend to a patient and will be back as soon as we can.”
Becca and Matt climbed in the sheriff's wagon. The wheels bounced on the uneven ground and rocked Matt into her.
Becca straightened the hem of her dress. “He might have broken a bone. I hope his injuries aren't serious.”
The sheriff spit tobacco on the ground. “I didn't see him. She came running outside when I stopped by her house. I check on all the widows who live outside of town at least once a week.” He shook his head. “There's a sad story. Leah Shepler doesn't give her child much attention. Micah resembles his father. She's bitter and angry her husband left her for another woman a few years ago. She is twenty-eight and hasn't remarried. She delivers her baked goods to the bakery to sell and washes clothes for her neighbors to make a living. The boy fends for himself most of the time.”
Tying the rope to the hitching rail, the sheriff gestured toward the house. “Go and help Micah. I'll be in the house in a few minutes.”
Matt escorted Becca inside. They greeted Mrs. Shepler, and she hustled them to Micah's room.
“He is in pain but brave. I am worried he has hurt himself real bad this time.”
Micah grunted and moved to sit up. “I falled again. My back and head hurts.”
“You're not warm, but let me check your temperature.” Becca removed a thermometer from Matt's bag and put it under Micah's tongue. She chatted with him until it was time to remove it.
Her tenderness with Micah reminded Matt of all her positive qualities. He moved next to her and bent to Micah. “I will be gentle.” He eased the pressure of his hand each time the child groaned. He examined the large lump on his head and bandaged a bloody scrape on his back.
“You were a brave boy. My hands pressing on your body with these bruises must have hurt.”
The child grimaced when he shifted in the bed, searching for a comfortable position.
Matt returned the stethoscope to his bag, pulled out a bottle of medicine, and handed it to Mrs. Shepler. “A teaspoon every four hours for the next two days will help relieve his pain. Nothing is broken. His aches should get better and his bruises should fade in the next few days.”
Mrs. Shepler whispered in Matt's ear. “I apologize for my behavior toward Becca the last time I brought Micah to you. I resented her because I have been a terrible mother to my little boy. She shows him unconditional love, which is something I have not been doing. I was jealous. He talks nonstop about how nice and kind she was to him in your office. Two things I need to do.”
“I understand. None of us are perfect. I'm glad you have had a change of heart toward Micah. Thank you for sharing this news with me.”
They bid Micah and his mother good-bye and climbed in the wagon. On the way back to the office, Matt recounted Micah's physical condition to the sheriff. He shared with both of them Micah's mother's confession about her treatment of Micah and jealousy toward Becca.
“I'm glad the boy's all right.” The sheriff spat tobacco juice on the ground.
Becca grimaced every time he spit. “I'm glad Mrs. Shepler has had a change of heart toward Micah. They will enjoy a much better relationship because of it.” She reached over Matt and tapped the sheriff's arm. “I worry about you. You should give up that nasty habit.”
Matt stifled his chuckle at her discomfort with the sheriff's tobacco habit.
“You are forty-two. You may not make it to forty-three if you keep chewing tobacco.”
“Aw, I'll be all right. I love the stuff.”
The wagon stopped in front of Matt's office. The sheriff lifted his hat. “By the way, I hear congratulations are in order.”
Matt eyed him. “Congratulations for what?”
“Dorothy told me you two are courting. Best news I've heard in a long time.” He chuckled, flicked the reins, and left them standing there.
Becca's face reddened.
Matt shook his head. The sheriff gossiped more than anyone else. He followed Becca inside the office. “I'm glad Dorothy told the biggest gossip in town about us courting.” He laughed and held her hand. “I want the whole world to find out.”
Becca's cheeks pinked. “I'm tickled about it too.”
Dorothy had left a note stating she finished her work and had gone home. An hour later, patients trickled in with various complaints.
Matt treated the last patient. After the patient left, he circled his arms around her. “Becca Yost, I must say it. I love you.” Before she could say anything, he pressed his lips against hers. She stirred him like no other woman. He loved everything about her.
“I love you, too.”
His heart raced. He had found the perfect woman. Working alongside his potential wife had not entered his mind. He looked forward to tending to patients with her help each workday. She understood when he talked about medications, research, and treatments. Her smile lit up a room, and her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds. He enjoyed the sound of her sweet voice and infectious laugh. Kind and caring, she had a gentle heart. Their conversations about any subject matter had been interesting. She was strong and able to handle the most difficult situations with ease and wisdom. She possessed all the qualities he wanted in a wife. He was ready to share his life and home with her. When should he ask her to marry him? She'd had to adjust to life outside the Amish community. Should he give her more time?
Chapter Six
Becca awoke to the aroma of hot coffee. She stared at the ceiling and hugged herself. Last night Matt said he loved her.
Ruth would be delighted to hear her news. She scrambled out of bed and dressed. In the kitchen, she joined Ruth. “Yum. I love the smell of hot coffee.”
Ruth whipped eggs in a bowl. “You look chipper this morning.”
“I have news.”
The eggs sizzled as Ruth poured them into the hot iron skillet. “Do not keep me waiting. What is it?”
“Matt told me he loves me. I told him I love him, too.” She bounced on her toes. “Ruth, I'm about to burst. I'm so excited.”
She clapped her hands. “What wonderful news. I love watching your life flourish with all these good things happening to you. Soon we'll be planning your wedding.” She checked the eggs and scooped the food onto their plates.
“Matt's mamm is my concern.”
Ruth sat across the table from her. “He has let her know you are the one for him. This is not her decision to make. Do not let her spoil your happiness.”
Becca poured two glasses of milk from the pitcher and handed one to Ruth. “You're right. Matt's everything I could ever want in a husband. I shouldn't fret about Mrs. Carrington's opinion of me. We haven't had much time to get acquainted.”
“Maybe your next meeting with Matt's mother will be a pleasant one.” She glanced at the clock, rose, and rinsed her plate. “I'll see you tonight.”
Becca swallowed the last of her coffee and hurried to work.
Dorothy hurried to embrace her. “The sheriff stopped by and told me Micah is all right.”
“Yes, he has a few nasty cuts and bruises on his back, but he'll be fine. He scares me. He's not afraid of heights. I worry about him.”
“You are good with children. They love you. You are going to make a great mother someday.”
Matt walked in. “I agree with Dorothy. You will make a good mother someday.”
Becca's cheeks warmed.
Matt motioned for her to follow him into his office. He gathered her into his arms. “I could not wait to see you this morning. Let me take you to Lizzie's tomorrow night for supper. I wish we could go tonight, but my father needs my notes on some important influenza research. I promised to mail the material to him tomorrow. Do you mind?”
Becca's heart thumped at the sight of him. The sound of his voice calmed her. He was the one for her. He loved her, and she loved him. It had changed everything for the better between them. “No, I don't mind at all.”
Patients trailed in for treatment one right after another. She loved the flirty glances Matt threw her way and the times he managed to sneak a squeeze of her hand between patients. The last patient departed at five-thirty. Becca readied the exam room for the next morning.
Matt gently tugged on her arm and pulled her close. His lips pressed against hers. Her eyes closed as she held her lips on his. She didn't want their kiss to end.
Matt stepped back and kept his hands on her waist. “Our first kiss was special, but all of them will be memorable.”
As she strolled home, Becca's lips tingled from his kiss. She loved and admired the man. He treated her with respect and continued to teach her about medications and patient treatments. She spent time with him in and outside of work. Could her life get any better?
 
 
The next evening, as Matt and Becca enjoyed dining at Lizzie's. The sheriff rushed in the door and bolted to Matt and Becca's table. His face was stricken. “I need your help. My best friend Jim Abington is hurt bad.”
Matt rose and lifted his bag. The sheriff normally handled the most difficult situations with ease, but not this one. “Take me to him.”
Becca lifted her reticule. “I'm coming too.”
Matt held her hand and clasped his bag in his other hand. He and Becca followed the sheriff outside and climbed into his buggy.
“What happened, Sheriff?”
“Jim was cutting wood for a fence and sliced his leg. His injury looks like fresh meat, Doc.”
Every morning, Jim and the sheriff sat on the bench outside the livery drinking coffee and gossiping before heading off to work.
Matt patted the sheriff on the back. “Try not to worry. We will do everything we can for him.”
The sheriff spit tobacco over the side of the buggy.
Jim's house came into view. The sheriff prodded his horse to go faster. Jim Abington's wife, Clara, and the neighbors were gathered around Mr. Abington's body stretched out on the ground. Color had drained from his face. Matt knelt and placed his hand over Clara's. The woman's small body trembled. Her stray brown hairs from her bun clung to her neck from sweat. She pressed a large blood-soaked towel firmly on the wound. He removed the towel. Blood gushed over Jim's leg.
Clara gasped. “Doc, please don't let Jim die. You gotta do something.”
Becca grabbed a clean towel from his bag and applied pressure. “The blood's not clotting.”
Matt motioned for the neighbors to move. “Please step away and let us have some room.”
Becca sat on the ground next to where Matt knelt over the patient and handed him everything he asked for from his bag.
Matt examined the injury again. The sheriff had been right. The man's leg wound resembled butchered meat. It continued to bleed. The man's arms were muscular. His legs were long.
He glanced at Becca and kept his voice low. “This is one of the worst injuries we have treated. How are you holding up?”
“Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I can handle whatever I need to. Tell me how I can help you.”
“Hand me a tourniquet from my bag.” He applied it to Jim's upper thigh and the blood slowed. “Men, help me move him inside.”
The men gently lifted their friend and carried him to a bedroom where they lowered him on a bed.
“Thanks, men. Becca and I will take it from here. Please clear the room.”
Matt irrigated the wound with Becca's help. “Becca, pull the anesthetic bottle from my bag and draw a syringe of medicine. I don't want Mr. Abington to wake up while I do the necessary suturing.”
She worked as fast as she could.
He finished, washed over his handiwork, and applied a large pressure bandage. He met Becca's eyes. “This was a difficult situation. You were calm and handled Jim's wound with ease. I admire you for it.”
Becca blushed and poured water in the bowl. “It provided me with another opportunity to learn more from you on how to assist with these types of injuries. I like working by your side, no matter how difficult the circumstances are.” She dipped a towel in the water and then held it out to him. “Let me wash your hands.”
Matt obliged, and Becca wiped the blood from them.
Jim groaned and moved his hand to touch his leg.
Matt grabbed his hand and leaned close to the man's ear. “Jim, Dr. Carrington. Do you recognize me? I am here to help you. You have a nasty wound, and I need you to stay as still as possible. You have lost a lot of blood, and I just finished stitching you up. If you move too much, the bleeding may start up again.”
Their patient groaned again.
Becca dumped the bloody water outside. She returned to the bedroom and knelt next to Matt.
“He needs a shot for the pain to help him relax and keep still.”
She moved to his black bag, drew the pain medicine in a syringe, and administered it in the man's arm.
Matt patted the man's cheeks. “Jim, open your eyes.”
The man's eyes fluttered until he focused. He spoke in a whisper. “Will I lose my leg? It hurts, Doc. You gotta save my leg.”
“I have given you something for the pain. I will come and check on you tomorrow. Stay off your feet and relax for a few days, until we see how it is healing. We do not want any type of infection. I have taken all the precautions we can. I will leave you some pain pills.”
Clara Abington stepped in the room and faced Matt and Becca. “You saved my husband's life.”
“We are happy to help. Do not let him rise for a few days.” Matt held her hand in his. “I will apply a clean dressing tomorrow. If you need me in the meantime, send one of your neighbors to my home or office. I will come right away.”
The woman thanked them.
The sheriff entered and went to his friend. “Jim, old buddy, you scared me. Either do what Matt says, or you'll have to answer to me. I'll visit you tomorrow. We'll have our coffee at your house in the morning.”
Matt motioned to Becca. They went outside and climbed in the buggy.
The sheriff headed toward them and heaved a big sigh. “Jim and I go way back. We've loaned each other money and caught more fish and gutted more deer than I can count over the past twenty years. Thank you both for what you did this evening. I'm in your debt.”
“You do not owe either of us anything. We are happy to help. Jim is going to be fine. Your friend will be as good as new before you know it.”
The sheriff reined in his horse in front of Ruth's. They jumped out and bid him farewell.
The light shone on the porch steps through the window. Becca swiped a bug from Matt's shirt. “Do you want to come in?”
He wanted to spend more time with her, but he struggled to stay awake. Sweat pasted his blood-stained shirt to his body. “Look at us. We are a mess.”
“You're right. I can't wait to get out of these clothes. I got my share of blood splatter too.”
He yawned and covered his mouth. “I better go home, bathe, and put on fresh bedclothes. In spite of Jim Abington's accident, I enjoyed our interrupted night out together.” He kissed her.
“I always enjoy time with you, no matter where we are.” She caressed his cheek before bidding him good night.
Matt walked with heavy feet to the livery. His large muscular brown horse shook his head and neighed. Matt steered him toward home. He breathed in the fresh air and glanced at the full moon. He looked forward to sharing a lifetime of beautiful nights like this one with Becca.
Soon, he would have to arrange a meeting for his parents to get to know Becca better. His mother was rude to people outside of her social circle. He didn't understand how several of the staff she employed could work for her as long as they had. She barked orders and didn't speak one kind word to them in his presence. He doubted Becca would ever meet her high standards for a daughter-in-law. If his mother was unkind, it might be their last meeting with his parents. He loved his parents, but he wouldn't stand for his mother's distasteful behavior toward Becca. He wasn't sure about his father. Not as judgmental, but he could be high-minded as well. He shook his head. He'd hope for the best.
 
 
The next morning, Matt sat at his desk and tapped his lip with a pencil. He listened to the sound of Becca's voice greeting Dorothy in the next room.
The two women escorted a little boy to his office. “This little one needs attention. He fell and hurt his arm.”
Matt guessed the dirty-faced boy at about six. His shabby clothes were too big and had holes in them.
The child squinted and held out his arm. “I fell.”
Dorothy left the room.
Becca stooped to look into the child's eyes. “What's your name?”
“Benjamin Evans.”
“My name's Becca.” She pointed. “This is Dr. Matt. We're going to make your arm better.” She guided him to the next room with Matt by her side. “Can you climb up on this table for me?” She offered him her hand.
Benjamin didn't hesitate to wrap his small fingers around hers.
Gertrude Evans charged in. “Benjamin, are ya in here? There you are.”
Benjamin cowered and his lips trembled.
Her hand behind his back, Becca helped him climb on a stool to sit on the exam table.
The child gripped her arm and hid his face against it.
Matt bit his tongue and approached Miss Evans. She wore the same garish dress she'd had on the day he treated the cut to her head a few weeks ago. He noticed the small boy's face paled when his mother barged in the room. Why was Benjamin afraid of his mother? Why were his clothes torn and his hair matted? The child looked as if he had not had a decent bath or meal for a while. He was skin and bones. “Hello, Miss Evans. We met when you were here for treatment the last time. You have a nice little boy. We'll take good care of him.”
“Yep, I remember meetin' ya.” She squinted at her son. “I didn't want no kids. He was a mistake I made six years ago. Gotta watch after and feed him, and I don't have time to take care of him. He's a pain in my side.” The woman shifted her bodacious body to one side and put her hands on her hips. “He went and hurt himself, and I had to take time out of my day and bring him here. I told him to stay out of trouble.”
Matt crossed one arm on his chest and his other hand fisted under his chin. Her obvious disgust concerning the boy sent chills up his spine. He glanced at Benjamin. The child hung his head and would not acknowledge his mother. She smelled of alcohol. Was she slurring her words or did she always talk this way? It was ten in the morning. Way too early in the day for anyone to be drinking. Those things did not matter. What did matter to him was how she treated this little boy. He stood feet apart and arms crossed. “Do you know how he fell?”
“I have no idea.” Benjamin's mother lifted the trash can and spit tobacco in it. “He'll tell ya what happened.”
“Are you going to stay here with Benjamin?”
“I don't have time to wait while you check him out. I've got work to do. Send him to the saloon when you're done patchin' him up.”

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