Loving Linsey (8 page)

Linsey's skeptical expression must have given her away because Jenny remarked, “That surprises you?”

“Daniel just doesn't strike me as a man willing to do anything that doesn't gain him in the long run.”

“He's a doctor. It's in his soul to heal.”

Linsey decided not to voice her doubts about Daniel even having a soul. Instead she told her friend, “If things are that hard, I wish you'd let me help.”

“Oh, no. You know that Noah is too proud to take charity.”

“It wouldn't be charity. It would be a donation for the children.”

“Thanks just the same, Linsey, but we'll be fine. Are you in a hurry today? Do you have time for a visit?”

Knowing that this might be the last time she'd see her friend, Linsey spent the morning visiting with Jenny, helping her with the few chores she couldn't manage on her own, and entertaining the children, whose energy seemed endless. She soaked in all the little nuances of life and living that had seemed so trivial before: the creative comfort of baking pies, inane chatter over the latest fashions, the soft innocence of a child's hand clasped in her own. . . .

If Jenny noticed that Linsey got a little weepy-eyed now and then, or that she lingered at her side more than usual, she didn't say anything.

Neither did she bring up Daniel's name again, much to Linsey's relief, though he continued to hover at the back of her mind. She kept seeing him lolling on the sofa with a passel of children, kept hearing that rumbling from his lungs—that almost-but-not-quite laugh . . .

Linsey finally took her leave after she and Jenny put the children down for their naps, her heart aching at the thought that she might not see her friend again, yet knowing she could tarry no longer with all the things yet left to do. Back in Horseshoe, after she returned the carriage, she decided to stop by Granny Yearling's to see if Aunt Louisa might like company on her walk home.

Granny Yearling lived in a little cottage on
an offshoot road behind the schoolhouse. To get there, Linsey had to pass by the apothecary.

Voices coming through an open window at the back of the building clashed through the air like swords. Linsey's steps slowed. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but something about the tone tugged at her, compelled her to pick up her skirts and wander closer.

Reaching the sill, she stood on tiptoe and peeked inside an examination room. An open doorway in the far wall gave her an unobstructed view into the office across the hall. Daniel stood stiff and square-shouldered in the doorway while his father paced the floor in front of him.

“. . . the right, telling her she didn't have to pay?”

“She didn't have any money, Dad. I accepted the chickens as trade.”

“We aren't running a charity, Junior. We have a service to perform, and by God, if folks want that service they've got to be willing to pay cold, hard coin for it!”

“You know as well as I do that every penny she and Noah make goes into those kids and that house. If we demand money, we might as well be stealing food from the children's mouths. Even you can't be that heartless.”

“Heartless has nothing to do with it. Just you try paying the university admissions office with a bunch of damned farm animals, and see where that gets you. They want money, Junior.” He slammed one fisted hand into the palm of the other. “And every penny
you give away adds one more day to getting into the university.”

“Don't you think I know that?”

The reply came out in a harsh, anguished whisper that cut Linsey to the core.

Doc Sr. stared up at his son for several long, tense seconds before he finally said, “Yes, Junior, I suspect you do know that. And I'm beginning to wonder if you want that surgical degree as badly as you claim you do.”

He then burst out the door, out of sight. Daniel remained behind, alone in the room, his head bowed, his shoulders slumped.

As Linsey watched, her mouth agape, little things she'd given no significance to before started clicking into place. His pinched expression when Jenny told him she couldn't pay. His constant burning of the midnight oil, visible from her bedroom window on the hill. The fixed weariness in his features.

She'd had no idea he was still pursuing an education. It had been her impression that when he had lost his scholarship, he'd decided to remain in Horseshoe and help his father with his practice.

Obviously she'd been mistaken.

But if the reason Daniel couldn't attend the university was because of finances, why did he continue to refuse the money she offered in reparation? And why in the world would he tend the sick and infirmed, knowing he wouldn't get paid?

It's in his soul to heal.

The scene of him with the children replayed in her mind over and over like a melody on the
phonograph. He never actually cracked a smile, but his hands were gentle and his voice soothing. That much had not changed since he'd tended Addie ten years ago.

It's in his soul to heal.

A germ of an idea began to form. A broad grin broke out on her face. She'd have to put that nature to the test, then, wouldn't she?

With a deep sigh, Daniel pushed away from the doorjamb and left his father's office to find someone to take the half-dozen layers Jenny had given him. He'd known even when he took them that he wouldn't keep them. He had no more use for the chickens than he did the sows, the quilts, or the buckets of coal that the majority of his patients paid him with.

He couldn't fault any of them; times were hard. But, damn, if this kept up, he'd never get into Johns Hopkins. Never regain his dad's respect.

Not that he really cared what his dad thought, he told himself. He just hated being reminded of his failures.

As he stepped outside, he caught a glimpse of a familiar redhead strolling down the road beside the school yard. She stopped, stooped, picked something up off the ground and tucked it into her pocket, then continued on her way with a cheerful spring to her step. Seeing Linsey stirred a long forgotten hunger for impulsive touches, sparkling conversation and laughing—just for the sake of laughing. It was as if she had no care in the world, and that cupid's-bow mouth of hers was forever smiling.

What brought out such a carefree spirit in a person? Why did it seem as if burdens were not a portion of her plate?

Daniel started, then cursed. What was wrong with him? Why this renewed fascination with her?

If not for her he'd be in Maryland right now, working to prove himself in the medical field under the tuteledge of the most renowned surgeons in the country, a member of an elite team of surgical pioneers discovering new and innovative treatments for some of the most perplexing disorders known to man.

He sure as hell wouldn't be stuck in this one-horse town, taking orders from a sour-hearted old codger determined to mold him into his own image.

Daniel's eyes squeezed shut. No, he wouldn't think about this. It was done, it was over.

The only thing he could do was make the best of the hand dealt to him. But as he reached for the crate of hens in the buggy, he vowed that one day he'd leave Horseshoe and become an accomplished surgeon, even if it took him ten years to save the money. And nothing or no one—especially not Linsey Gordon—was going to divert him from that plan.

“You keep scowlin' like that, Dan'l, your face is liable to freeze,” a scratchy voice teased.

Daniel glanced up and spotted Jarvis and Potter ambling toward him.

“Wish it would,” Oren piped in. “If he went ugly, the ladies hereabouts might give the rest of us saps a shot.”

“Speak for yourself, Potter; I've got wimmen chasing me from dawn to dusk.”

“Yeah, with a rolling pin.”

His friends continued to hurl insults at each other, but Daniel paid them little notice. Normally he would have found the exchange between his pals amusing, but today . . . well, Daniel just didn't find himself in an easily amused mood.

He lifted the crate out of the stanhope and set it on the back stoop.

“Heckfire, Dan'l what's got you so down in the mouth?” Jarvis prodded.

Daniel raised up and brushed his hands together. “Linsey Gordon.”

The lanky lamplighter grinned. “What did she do, try drowning you again?”

“You heard about that?”

“It's all over Horseshoe.”

Wonderful
. “Don't these people have anything better to talk about?”

“You oughtta know better than that, Daniel,” Oren said. “A body can't go to the outhouse without everyone knowing about it.”

Daniel didn't argue that. He raised his forearm against the wall and leaned into it. “Tell me something, fellas. You ever get the feeling someone is plotting your downfall?”

“Someone like . . .” Oren made a rolling motion with his hand.

“A woman,” Daniel finished.

“You're askin' us?” Jarvis exclaimed.

“Well, yes.” Who else would he ask? His father? Any time he brought up the subject of
women to his dad, he wound up listening to an hour's worth of “They're a trap, boy, and you don't got time for traps. . . .” Maybe Jarvis and Potter weren't experts on the gentler sex, but he had to get this off his chest, and they were better than no one.

“See, it's like this. I've run into her more times today than I have all year.” Daniel recounted each incident, ending with, “. . . then she shows up at Jenny Kimmel's when I'm examining that new batch of kids she got.”

Jarvis shuddered. “Jesus, Dan'l. Linsey Gordon, kids . . . you've just planted the seeds for a year's worth of nightmares.”

Daniel knew the feeling. Hearing the two in the same sentence was enough to give any sane man a case of hives. “The question is, why?”

“Maybe she's taken a shine to you.” Jarvis grinned and winked.

“Don't even joke about that.” The thought of Linsey setting her sights on him made a tremor of apprehension surge through his veins. “But I am beginning to wonder if this is just coincidence and I'm overreacting, or if she's got something up her sleeve and I've got a right to worry.”

“If ya ask me, you got a right to worry. The safest thing you can do is stay as far away from that gal as you can.”

“Isn't that the truth,” Daniel muttered.

“Here pal, I've got just the cure for what ails ya.” Jarvis slyly afforded Daniel a peek at the flask tucked into his inside coat pocket. “Cooter Hobart's special blend.”

The cure? More like the kill. “No, thanks. That stuff'll peel the hide off a steer.”

“Didn't hear no complaints the last time.”

Hell, that's because it had about blistered Daniel's gullet. He'd hardly been able to swallow, much less complain, the day Jarvis had decided to help him drown his sorrows over losing his fellowship. “Some other time, Robert. I've got a shipment to unpack before my dad has an apoplectic fit.”

“Suit yourself.” The lean man shrugged. “We still on for Saturday night? You can help me take Potter for everything he's got.”

“Shee-oot, Jarvis here is the one with pockets deeper than his pants.”

“Why not?” Daniel said without much enthusiasm. “If you fellas are so eager to throw away your money, you might as well throw it in my direction.”

“Throw it away, hell. I'm the poker king.”

Oren snorted. “You're the poker something, but it ain't king.”

As his friends continued down the road, Daniel shook his head. It was pitiful that his weekly poker game was the highlight of his existence. What had his life come to?

That wasn't a question he really wanted to explore. He had a feeling if he did, he'd discover a vital element he'd lived without for a long time, and start missing it again.

No, the only question he wanted an answer to was . . .
What the Sam Hill was Linsey Gordon up to this time?

Sneezing: One for a kiss, two for a wish,

three for a letter, four for a better,

five for silver, six for gold,

seven for a secret never to be told.

W
hen Linsey got that look in her eye, trouble wasn't far behind. Addie had been led down mischief's path too many times not to recognize the eager gleam and know that it didn't bode well.

She rose from her chair and stacked the books littering her desk. “Whatever idea you're cooking up, just leave me out of it.”

“But this is the perfect plan!” Linsey exclaimed.

“The last time I let you talk me into one of your ‘perfect plans,' I nearly wound up in jail.” She gathered the books, her gloves, reticule, and lunch pail in both arms and rounded the desk.

“I told you to knock on wood when you said that the mayor might catch us.” Linsey grinned, falling into step beside her as she
marched down the aisle. With a conspiratorial wink, she added, “But you must admit, that wine would have been worth spending the night in the calaboose.”

“There are those who still don't believe we were hiding from a tornado,” Addie grumbled. Thank goodness her students remained ignorant of the real reason they'd snuck into Mayor Harvey's cellar two years ago. She'd never live down the disgrace. And if their parents had any inkling of half the antics she'd engaged in thanks to Linsey, she'd be booted out of teaching altogether.

“C'mon, Addie, this will be different; I promise.”

“Says the spider to the fly.”

Linsey brought her to a halt outside the school-yard gate, a mere ten paces from the apothecary. “Haven't you always been sweet on Daniel?”

“Yes, but—”

“And haven't you said time and again, ‘If I were Daniel's wife . . .'?”

“You know I have, but—”

“Then go into his office and pretend to need medical attention.”

“For what? I'm in perfect health.”