Courting the Doctor's Daughter (12 page)

Tears clogged Mary’s throat. “I’ll try.”

“You remember how much your mother loved the Lord, wanted to be His hands on earth. I know you worried about Sam, about his salvation. He had his problems and wasn’t a churchgoing man, but he claimed Jesus as his Savior. I believe Sam’s in Heaven with your mother, but that decision is God’s, not mine.”

Sam had believed, but his faith hadn’t kept him out of the saloons. Still, he’d regretted his failing and the pain he caused her. Nor had her own faith kept her from fearing what the future held. She sighed. No such thing as a perfect faith existed, but if it did, her father and mother possessed it.

“You and I must accept their loss and find our own peace about their deaths. And when we do, we’ll sleep better, be happier and ready to love the way God created us to love.”

For once Mary didn’t see her mother’s disease-ravaged body. Instead she thought of the happy times they’d shared. But, wait, her father had spoken of love. “Are you like Mr. Kelly…looking for a wife?”

“No one could take your mother’s place. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to ask another woman to live around my schedule. But you’re young, Mary girl. I want you to find happiness so when I’m gone you’ll have a husband to love, someone to love you.”

“I have the boys.”

“Yes, but time moves quickly. Before you know it, they’ll have their own lives.”

“You tell me not to worry, well, don’t worry about me, Daddy. I’m happy. Really. I don’t want another husband.” Perhaps the time had come to share her dream with her father. A shiver of excitement mounted her spine. “I want to do things. Accomplish things. Make you proud. Make me proud of myself.”

“I couldn’t be prouder of the woman you are.” She started to speak, to share her goal to become a doctor when her father held up a hand. “Just know all men aren’t like Sam. Look at his brother. Charles grew up in the same house, suffered the same abuse at his father’s hand and he’s a wonderful husband. He traveled a rough road to get there, but
I’m sure he’d tell you every step was worth what he gained. Don’t run from life. Follow his lead. Love isn’t without pain and disappointments, but love is always worth the risk.”

Mary kissed her father’s cheek. “I’ll remember.”

Why had her father given her this talk now? Did he believe Luke cared about her? Hardly. Well, she had a dream of her own and that didn’t include a husband.

“I’ve got to pick up Ben.” She squeezed his hand. “All I need is my children and you.”

Heading to the parsonage, Mary relived her day, a draining day full of pain and emotion, and looked forward to spending time with her sons. She retrieved Ben at the Foleys’, and they cuddled on the sofa, waiting for Philip and Michael.

“Mary,” Ben said, peering up at her. “Are you my mother?”

She kissed his forehead. “Yes, I am.”

“So…can I call you mom?”

“Nothing would make me happier.” Mary cupped his cheeks with her palms. “And I will call you son.”

He giggled, his eyes shining.

Michael and Philip tromped in. She fed them all a snack of cookies and milk, then followed them out into the afternoon sunshine. Ben carried his new ball, his favorite possession.

In the distance, a figure loped toward them down Sixth Street. He waved, and Mary’s breath caught. Luke Jacobs. What did he want?

As he neared their yard, the boys raced to greet him. Luke laid a gentle hand on Ben’s shoulder. The boy beamed with delight. “Mind if I toss a few balls with them?” he said, his gaze resting on her.

He appeared to enjoy all three boys. She no longer believed Luke had a special interest in Ben. If he did, he’d
have made that apparent by now. His thoughtfulness toward her sons touched her, softening the sharp edges of her resolve, and leaving her open-mouthed, standing on shifting ground. Sam never supported her parenting. He’d never shouldered the responsibilities of a father. Every time she thought she knew Luke, she saw another facet of his character.

Mary opened the gate. Luke tickled Ben’s tummy then scooped him up, dangling the boy’s legs over his head before settling him on his shoulders, then trotting into the yard. “How’s the view from up there, Ben?”

“Great!” the little boy crowed, holding on to Luke’s thick hair like a saddle horn. “I can see the church’s tower!”

Michael and Philip, their eyes full of longing to do the same, giggled. Obviously a man could give her sons something that didn’t come naturally to her. Boys loved to roughhouse, to be tossed in the air, to ride on a man’s broad shoulders and get a bird’s-eye look at their world.

She remembered at the cemetery Philip had asked her for a dad. The boys needed a man in their lives. Not a grandfather, but a father, young and strong, full of adventure. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she’d never fill that void in the boys’ lives.

Her throat clogged. And neither had Sam.

For a second Mary envisioned a future with Luke. A future she’d never shared with Sam. Realization leapt through her, scaling the walls she’d erected around her heart, weakening her resolve to spend the rest of her life alone. She could get used to this, could care about this man. She envisioned having him to lean on, to share not only the burdens but also the high spirits of her sons. To be a family.

The image evaporated in the clarity of reason. Luke
Jacobs would leave. He had goals that didn’t include her or her sons. Why wouldn’t he be done with it and go, instead of bringing something into their lives that wouldn’t last? Something out of reach they couldn’t seize. Something they’d all miss when he left.

At the thought, Mary’s breath caught in her lungs. Had her life already become so entangled with Luke’s that she couldn’t imagine life without him?

F
ishing poles, some worms and Grandpa would fill the void in her sons’ lives. At least that’s what Mary prayed when her father had suggested the idea of some fishing after work this afternoon.

Mary hefted the basket of wet clothes and climbed to the bright patch of clear sky at the top of the cellar steps. She and the boys could indeed make do with the family they had. Hitching the basket on one hip, she tugged her bonnet onto her head, shading her eyes from the glare of the sun. If only she could protect her heart from Luke Jacobs as easily.

Across the way, Ben kicked his ball, waiting for Philip and Michael to get home from school. She smiled, happy to see him having fun. Ben was hers and always would be. Philip and Michael trotted into the backyard, calling to her. Arms stretched wide and shouting with joy, Ben raced to meet them.

Mary tugged Philip and Michael close, listening as they chatted about their day.

“Guess what?” she said, unable to resist sharing the news.

“What?” three voices asked in unison.

“Later this afternoon, if Grandpa doesn’t have any emergencies, he’s taking you fishing.” The boys danced with excitement at the prospect.

Philip tugged at her sleeve. “We need to find worms. Lots of worms!”

She tousled Philip’s hair. “You know where the trowel is.”

Philip sped to the shed, and in a few moments, all three of them had a muddy clump of squirming worms in a can.

With the laundry blowing in the breeze, Mary returned the basket to the cellar. Overhead she heard the clamor of excited young voices. When she reached the yard, her father carried poles and a tackle box, as surrounded as three boys could make him.

Luke stood off to the side of the little group. Sunlight glinted off his hair, kissing his features. Mary’s heart stopped, started again, her pulse skittering as crazily as the laundry flapping in the breeze. “Luke. What a surprise.”

He grinned. “I’m playing hooky—with the boss’s permission.”

Her father put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I told Luke we all deserved an afternoon off. I left a sign on the door, in case of an emergency.”

“Or in case Mrs. Whitehall suddenly catches something highly contagious,” Luke added, straight-faced, with eyes twinkling.

Her father chuckled. “We’re here to take you and the boys fishing.”

“Me? Oh, I can’t. I have signs to make for the pie social and a stack of mending to do. And I promised Lizzie Augsburger I’d—”

Luke took a step forward, and in an instant, she lost her words.

“Take the afternoon off, and come have fun with us.” He grinned. “Doctor’s orders.”

“If you need a second opinion, daughter,” her father added, “I have the same prescription.”

Ben beamed. “We’ve got worms! I helped put them in the can.”

“Show me,” her father said.

The boys raced off with their grandfather trailing after them, leaving Luke and Mary alone. The prospect of spending time with Luke, of getting to know him even more, made Mary’s stomach lurch. He was becoming too real, too much of a man she could care about.

“I shouldn’t go,” she said, trying her best to resist. “Once these clothes finish drying, I’ll have a pile of ironing to do.”

He leaned close, trapping the oxygen in her lungs. “You need to have some fun. The work will wait.”

“Easy for you to say. The work won’t get done if I don’t do it.”

He gave her an impish grin. “I’ll help.”

“With ironing?” She laughed. “That I’d have to see.”

“Maybe not ironing, but I could cut your grass, rake the leaves.” His gaze traveled to the back of her house. “Paint the eaves before winter hits.”

She could barely comprehend the idea of this man taking on some of the load. He was behaving like a husband. The husband she’d never really had. As much as she wanted to trust in the image, she knew better. Knew it was as fleeting as a cloudless sky on a summer day.

“There’s more to life than work, Mary.” He lifted a hand to her face, touching her jaw. “Much more. Time passes in a blink. Don’t miss these little moments with your sons.”

She looked toward her boys to escape the mesmerizing warmth of Luke’s eyes. He was right. She should spend more time having fun with them. If Luke joined in for now,
so be it. “How can I resist when I have five handsome males asking me to spend the afternoon with slimy worms and stinking fish?”

Luke laughed. “If I’d known a few fish would win you over, I’d have thrown you a bass that very first day.”

All too aware of the pull between them, even at that first meeting, her pulse quickened. She had to put some distance between them. “Fishing makes people hungry. I’ll fix sandwiches.”

Inside her kitchen, she whipped up egg salad from the dozen eggs she’d boiled that morning, and then spread the mixture between thick slices of bread. She added pears, cookies and a jug of white grape juice, the only kind that didn’t stain her boys’ clothes.

As she worked, she thought about Luke. He’d allowed her a brief glimpse into his past. His parents had rejected him as a child. Could she really blame Luke for having grown up with his defenses in place? Could he let those defenses down? That remained the unanswerable question.

Tucking the food in the basket, a small flutter of pleasure traveled through her. To take care of a man, a man who wasn’t a member of her family, a man with no one to look after him, filled her with contentment. At the prospect of spending an afternoon with this vital, thoughtful man, her stomach tumbled.

She shook her daydreams loose. She’d been down this path before, and the man had let her down. Best not make much of a simple outing. She grabbed her shawl, her wide-brimmed hat, one of Addie’s creations, then the basket, and hustled outside. The men loaded the blanket, fishing equipment and picnic basket into the wagon and they headed off. Ben sat on the blanket surrounded by all the gear, holding onto the poles with all his might, his chest puffing with pride at the importance of his job. Allowing Luke to pull
it, Michael and Philip led the way, skipping ahead then running back to their grandfather, urging them all to hurry. Mary walked alongside, keeping a watchful eye on Ben and purposely lagging a step behind Luke.

Mary waved at the neighbors on the porches they passed, most giving the group second glances. A prickle of uneasiness traveled through her. This town loved to imagine romance where none existed. Even with her father along, people probably were speculating about her and the new doctor.

She glanced at Luke, took in his long stride, firm grip on the handle, his take-charge demeanor. He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. Her breath caught, and she ducked her head like a schoolgirl, instead of the matron she was.

They reached White River and then unloaded the wagon. The children wanted to wet a line, but Mary insisted they eat first.

“Luke claims to be one of the best fishermen in the country. I told him we’d have ourselves a little contest. See who the best really is,” her father said, helping lay out the blanket.

More and more Luke Jacobs was becoming part of their lives. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. When he left, he’d break Ben’s heart. Or hers.

She’d enjoy today and remind herself it meant absolutely nothing. “My father is known as the top fisherman in these parts.”

The boys devoured their sandwiches. Between mouthfuls, they boasted about how many fish they’d catch. After they’d eaten, her father took them to the bank.

Finishing the last bite of his sandwich, Luke licked his lips, and the sight of his tongue capturing a crumb coiled in her stomach. “I’ve never had egg salad before.”

All too aware of Luke’s every move, she barely ate a bite of food. “Egg salad isn’t on the menu in New York?”

He chuckled. “Well, probably, but not in my family. It was delicious. Thank you, Mary.” Their gazes met, held for a moment, then he got to his feet. “I’d better give Doc a hand.”

Even with Luke only a short distance away, Mary missed his presence; she felt aimless, as if she didn’t know what to do. She chided herself. As always, she had a mess to clean up. When she’d finished stowing the litter, Mary strolled to where Luke showed Ben how to hold his pole. Nearby her father helped Michael and Philip bait their hooks.

Soon the men settled on their haunches waiting for a strike. Mary couldn’t help but smile at the earnest expressions on their faces. They saw catching a fish as important, even crucial.

Philip’s red-and-white bobber dipped. “A fish!” The bobber moved across the water. “He’s getting away!”

“He doesn’t have a chance with you managing the line,” Luke said, helping Philip pull up on the pole, setting the hook, then cranking in the catch, a wiggling bass six inches long.

Dropping his pole, Ben leapt from his spot on the bank and trotted over to watch, her father following close behind. “Wow!” Ben said, lifting a tentative finger toward the flopping fish, gathering the courage to touch its scales.

Luke removed the hook from its mouth just as Michael’s bobber disappeared beneath the surface of the water. “I got one!” Michael shouted.

Mary hurried to her older son’s side, watched him handle the pole like an expert and bring in his catch, crowing with delight at the size of the bluegill dangling from the hook.

Luke laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Great work.”

Michael looked at Luke, his face glowing. “Thanks!”

Like he’d gotten too close to a flame, Luke took a step back, but Philip tugged on his sleeve. “Grandpa says blue-gills are good eating.”

Across the way, Ben’s lower lip quivered. “I didn’t catch nothin’.”

Luke knelt in front of her son. “Fishing takes patience.” Then he pointed to Ben’s pole snaking across the bank. “Better hurry before whatever’s on the end of your line takes your pole under.”

Ben’s short legs wouldn’t get him there in time.

Luke made a lunge for the pole. Amid shrieks of excitement and encouragement, Ben caught his first fish. The little boy’s face lit with satisfaction while Luke removed the hook and helped tuck the bass into the wire basket tethered at the water’s edge. Soon her father and Philip added another fish. Within minutes, her sons caught five more.

Watching Luke interact with the boys, Mary’s resistance to the man crumbled. He treated her sons like a father would. They, in turn, soaked up Luke’s attention like parched ground after a long drought. Even Michael appeared to warm up to Luke. For once, her father could take the role of grandfather.

Eyes glistening at the sight of the boys’ joy-filled faces, Mary crossed to the blanket. If only Sam had gone fishing with the boys, but on Saturdays, he’d barely managed the heaviest chores before heading to the saloon. Sundays, he slept it off, often still in bed when she and the boys returned from church. He’d had no interest in fishing or baseball or any of the activities his children enjoyed. Sam had failed her, but more importantly, he’d failed his sons.

But here on the bank of White River, they’d found a man
who cared, if only for an afternoon, about what lay on the end of their lines.

What if her sons relied on this? How could she protect them without denying them a few hours of fun?

Luke rose and said something to her father, then dipped his hands in the water. Wiping his palms on his jeans, he joined her on the blanket, grabbing an apple from her basket. Then he leaned against the tree, his face relaxed, contented. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

For a man who didn’t know children and occasionally looked out of his depth, Luke had a great way with the boys. But she must remember all this was temporary.

Good with children or not, she didn’t know much about Luke, not really.

In too many ways, Luke Jacobs remained a mystery. For a practical woman like Mary, that made him a risk, a risk she could not take.

Settling against the rough bark of the hickory tree, Luke stretched out his legs, his bones like butter softening in the sun. He took a bite of the shiny red apple, releasing sweet juice that ran down the side of his hand. When had he felt this relaxed?

Even Mary looked at ease. She had removed her straw hat, revealing her glossy thick hair, pulled back at the nape. One luxurious strand curled at her jaw. He had an urge to wind the tendril around his finger, to lean close and pull her to him. But her father and sons sat on the bank, a few feet away. Still, they weren’t paying attention. Maybe…

She raised her gaze to his. As if she read his thoughts—or dare he hope, shared them—color dusted her cheeks.

He smiled. “You’re lovely, Mary.”

Brows arching in surprise, she smiled, and the pure joy
in it knocked against his heart. Hadn’t her husband told her she was pretty? After that reaction, he’d make a point of complimenting her more.

“Thank you.” She glanced at the group on the bank. “And thank you for making time for the boys. You’re good with them.”

“Yes, well, fishing on a warm fall evening—doesn’t get much better than this.”

“I think you enjoy more than the fishing.” She appeared to look inside him, to see into the innermost part of his being. “I think you enjoy the boys, too, even if they chatter like magpies.”

He glanced away. He treasured time with all of them, but especially with his son, more than he wanted to admit, but he merely shrugged. “They’re nice boys.”

The spark in her eyes dimmed. His attempt to look indifferent hurt her. But he didn’t want to mislead Mary about his intentions toward her and the children. Didn’t want to make her suspicious if he appeared to care too much. Why didn’t he just tell her he was Ben’s father?

After keeping silent for weeks, Mary would never forgive him for not telling her. Her anger would either force him into leaving town or into demanding his son. He couldn’t bear to wound her or the boys. He’d not done right by Lucy. He wasn’t worthy to rear a child. But even if he were, he had no idea how to be a parent.

A thick silence fell between them. With his free hand, Luke fiddled with a blade of grass growing alongside the tree, while Mary kept her back to him, tucking the remains of their picnic in her basket. The sun lowered in the sky. Soon they’d have to head back. Something he didn’t want to do. Not yet. “Do you want to take a walk before it gets dark?”