Someone Like You (25 page)

He saw
that
as a turning point, the beginning of his journey up and out of the valley of the shadow of death he had been in for so long. He had his medical career back, but, more important, he had a woman to love, one who loved him in return.

He had come full circle. His life was good. Susannah would be his wife soon.

What could possibly stand in their way?

Chapter Twenty-One

The next day dawned a bit warmer, but the wind was blustery. The trees were bare now, and the leaves were piled against the side of the barn. With each blast of wind, the skeletons of dead plants rattled together while the leaves on the evergreen bush danced and flapped to a tune of their own. Everything looked as gray as the sky overhead, with only a hint of brown that was visible in the dun-colored pastures dotted with stubble from last summer’s crops.

Reed was in the tack room working on the worn harness and tracings, replacing the old leather with new. When he finished, he went to the house to get slops for Miss Lavender and her brood. He found Violette in the kitchen, coping with a mountain of vegetables from the root cellar that Susannah had cut up for today’s lunch of vegetable stew.

“I’m up to my elbows in here,” she said. “It’s my job to put these vegetables in the pot. But I’m having a bit of a problem.”

It was hard not to smile when he looked around the kitchen and counted seven pots and seven lids lining the counters and kitchen table. “What’s the trouble?”

“I can’t seem to find the right pot,” she said, exasperated. “This one is too little. This one is too big. I’m beginning to feel like Goldilocks.”

She turned to face him, and he saw she was truly vexed.

“It’s one of the things I hate about getting old. My memory comes and goes. Today it is mostly gone. I can’t seem to judge the size of these pots. I pour the stew base in one and it overflows. I pour it in another one and it barely covers the bottom.”

He looked the pots over, then went to the table. “Try this one,” he said.

She poured the broth from another pot into the larger one he handed her. “So far, so good,” she said, and began scraping the vegetables into the lid, which she placed just under the edge of the cabinet. When the lid was full, she dumped the vegetables into the pot. Three lidfuls of vegetables later, she declared the job done.

“A perfect fit,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”

“That’s the beauty of families,” he said. “There is always someone around to help when the going gets tough. I’m an excellent pot sizer-upper. Call on me anytime.”

Her eyes were bright and she looked at him with genuine fondness. “I’ll do that for certain.” She paused. “It is nice to be a part of a family, isn’t it? I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear you feel like part of ours.”

It struck him that he did feel a part of their family, and he found it strange that it had never occurred to him before. “It’s a nice feeling,” he said. “I dropped by to see if you needed any help. While I was here, I thought I’d take the slops and feed Miss Lavender for you.”

“You just missed Susannah. She took the slops on her way to feed the chickens. That was a while ago, so she’s probably milking Peony by now.”

“I’ll check there, then.”

He found Susannah in the barn. “Good morning,” he said, and bent down to kiss her on the top of her head.

“Good morning.” She gave him a warm smile and returned to her milking.

Next to her sat a basket of freshly garnered eggs and the empty slops pail. He turned the slops pail over and sat down to wait for her. He didn’t say anything but was content to listen to the rhythm of the milk squirting into the bucket as he watched her hands. When she finished milking, he offered to carry the pail.

They didn’t mind the cooler weather as they made their way back to the house in silence. He found it interesting that they could enjoy just being together, without the need for conversation. He walked beside her, carrying the bucket of milk. Susannah had the basketful of eggs on her arm.

When they walked into the kitchen, the stew was bubbling on the stove, its fragrant aroma a welcome reminder that there would be something hot and filling for lunch, but mingling with that was a strange, smoky smell. Violette was sitting at the kitchen table watching the leaves blow past the window as she waited for the teakettle to come to a boil. Dahlia was melting paraffin on the stove, a billowing column of smoke rising from the pan.

Reed and Susannah exchanged glances.

Susannah put the eggs down on the cabinet. Reed put the pail of milk beside the eggs. Then they faced her aunts.

“We have something to tell you,” she said.

“Last night, I asked Susannah to become my wife.”

“And I accepted.”

Violette sprang from her chair and rushed over and gave each a kiss. “I knew it was coming,” she said. “I just knew it. Of course you have my blessing.”

“You have my blessing as well,” Dahlia said. “A wedding. How exciting. I think we should get out Mother’s silver. The little silver bonbon dish will look lovely on the lace tablecloth, full of sugared pecans. Of course we’ll have to use the cut-glass cake plate for the wedding cake.” Her hands came up to her face, and she turned toward Violette: “Sister, you don’t suppose they are too badly tarnished, do you?”

“A little silver polish should do the trick,” Violette said.

“Perhaps I could mix up something that would do a better job,” Dahlia said as she turned back to the paraffin, which was smoking profusely by this point. “I think I should like to be in charge of things, Sister. I don’t want you overworking yourself. Yes, that is just what I’ll do. I’ll take care of everything.”

Violette was looking at the smoking pan. “Get that pan off the stove. What are you trying to do, Dally? Burn down the house? That stuff smells worse than singed chicken feathers. What are you going to do with it?”

“It’s a secret,” Dahlia said. She carried the paraffin to the sink and poured it into a copper bowl. On the cabinet beside her were two jars of herbs and a crockery pot full of lavender. Next to that was a bowl of dried dewberries and a bottle of vanilla extract.

“It’s either something to drink or rub over your body,” Violette said. “And if it’s the former, I, for one, am not going to try it.”

Reed noticed that Susannah looked distracted and that surprised him. This should have been the most important day of her life, but she was staring intently at her aunt, her mind obviously a thousand miles off. He looked at Dahlia and realized something about her was different.

“Aunt Dally, what have you done to yourself?” Susannah asked.

Dally looked down at her dress in an absent-minded way. “Done? Whatever do you mean, dear?” She pulled a clove of garlic out of her pocket and began peeling it, dropping the dry peelings into the other pocket of her apron but missing with most of them, which landed on the floor. “You need to start taking garlic,” she said. “Both of you. Garlic will keep you from getting sick, and you’re going to need your health with the wedding and all.” She looked around. “Now, where did I put my mortar and pestle?”

Reed and Susannah watched Dahlia search through the kitchen cabinets, unable to believe their eyes. Where once had been the picture of perfection, now stood a woman who looked as though
she
had dressed in the dark. Gone were the disciplined clothes, the well-matched colors and patterns. Strong blobs of color, none of which went together, adorned her body. Her blouse was an unrecognizable pattern with a black background and splashes of bright green, red, and yellow, to which she had sewn purple braid and gold tassels. Her skirt was a light blue with yellow
fleurs-de-lis
that looked awfully similar to the pillows she had made last week for the parlor. Come to think of it, they had gold tassels, too. The very idea of turning her loose on the wedding preparations made Reed cringe.

“I think I’ll let you ladies work out the plans for the nuptials,” Reed said, taking his hat from the peg. “I need to go into town and spend a few hours in the office. I’m sure there will be plenty of coughs and colds and sore throats to see to, and Mary Madison is due to have her baby any day.”

“Deserter,” Susannah whispered.

Reed laughed and blew her a kiss.

“Oh, I do hope Mary doesn’t have her baby during this nasty weather,” Dahlia said. “If you’ll wait just a minute, I’ll send her a tin of that nice sunflower seed salve I made last week.”

Reed waited until Dahlia handed him the salve, which he tucked into his coat pocket. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”

“Say hello to Mary if you see her,” Susannah said, and added, “Oh, Reed, it might be a good idea to stop by and see the reverend, so you can tell him about the wedding.”

“I’ll do that,” Reed said. He kissed Susannah on the cheek and departed.

Susannah watched him through the kitchen window. “I do hope he is muffled up and warm enough. I don’t want him catching anything.”

“He’s caught you,” Violette said. “That’s the most contagious thing he’s likely to come in contact with.”

“I hope so,” Susannah said, “but I can’t help worrying. What if something goes wrong? What if we have another epidemic or something and we can’t get married?”

“Lord-a-mercy! Listen to you carry on like an old worrywart,” Violette said. “Even if he did catch cold, Reed Garrett wouldn’t let a thing like that hold him back.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Susannah said.

“Well, now that we’ve got that settled, what else can you think of that could possibly happen to prevent the two of you from getting married?”

That afternoon, Tate Trahern went into Buck and Smith’s. He noticed Mr. Truesdale standing behind the post office counter, and had a twinge of regret that it wasn’t Daisy’s cheerful face he saw there. He would have gone to her funeral if he hadn’t been so sick with typhoid himself, but by the time he was on his feet again, Daisy had been buried for over a month.

He remembered her telling him that she was the only one working in her family, and wondered what they’d be doing now, not that he was really interested. What he was interested in was seeing if he had any mail.

“I was wondering if you were going to come into town anytime soon,” Mr. Truesdale said. “I’ve had a letter here for you for some time now. Course I knew you’d been sick. It’s a good thing that Garrett fellow turned out to be a doctor or you might be out there with all those other poor souls who didn’t make it.”

“Yeah, Garrett is a regular angel of mercy.”

“That’s the gospel if I ever heard it,” Mr. Truesdale said.

“How about that letter,” Tate said. “I’ve got a lot of business to see to today and I need to get started.”

Mr. Truesdale handed him the letter. “It’s from Boston,” he said. “At first I thought there was some mistake, since Dr. Garrett is the only one who’s been getting mail from Boston, but it’s got your name on it, sure as shootin’. That’s quite a coincidence, both of you getting mail from Boston.”

“Yeah, quite a coincidence.”

Tate took the letter and left the store. He stepped over Otis Crowder and Lee Roy Harper, who were sleeping off last night’s drinking binge on the boardwalk, before he went across the street to the Roadrunner Saloon. There he ordered a whiskey and carried it to a table in the back of the room, hinting to everyone present that he did not want to be interrupted.

He drank the whiskey, then ordered another. He took one sip and opened the letter from Boston. When he finished reading it, he folded the letter, downed the glass of whiskey, stood, and placed the letter in his pocket.

“Give everyone a round of drinks and put it on my tab,” he said to Frank Weatherby, who was tending bar.

Frank nodded and began lining up shot glasses, but Tate did not stay around to watch.

When Muriel Emenhizer heard about Susannah and Reed’s engagement, she went to her husband, Loy, and ordered him to drive her out to the Wakefield place immediately. Loy Emenhizer was president of the First National Bank and considered himself to be the busiest man in town, so he didn’t take too willingly to his wife’s intrusion.

“Honey lamb, I’m busy right now, but I’ll drive you out to the Wakefield place after we close.”

“Loy Emenhizer, I cannot believe you could be so unappreciative when you know full well that if it hadn’t been for that kind and dedicated Dr. Garrett, I wouldn’t be standing here this very moment ordering you to do anything.”

In the end, Loy drove Muriel out to the Wakefield place and sat patiently in the parlor with his bald pate shining in the lamplight as his rotund wife laid out her plans to give the betrothed couple an engagement party.

“It will be a party the likes of which the people in Bluebonnet have never seen. Loy and I want to show our eternal gratitude for what you did to pull me through that dark and trying time when I was so ill with typhoid.”

Muriel added, “I will spare no expense,” and there was a sound in the room remarkably like a groan. Susannah and Aunt Vi glanced at Loy, but he was gazing out the window as if he wasn’t hearing a word of what was going on.

Muriel went on talking. “I have taken the liberty of speaking with Sam Slater about the use of the Roadrunner Saloon for the affair.”

“Muriel, have you taken leave of your senses? You can’t expect decent folks—especially women—to go to a party at the Roadrunner Saloon,” Loy said. “It will be full of drifters and drunks, and it will certainly not be the kind of place where any self-respecting lady would put in an appearance.”