The Preacher's Daughter (7 page)

She led the way to the bedroom Lillith and Anna shared.

The walls were papered with pale lavender violets, and the bureau and two small beds had been painted with matching flowers. Dolls lined the window seat and an enormous dollhouse occupied one corner. Lorabeth’s breath had been taken away the first time she’d stepped in and seen the fantasy-inspired room created for their enjoyment.

Anna bounced on her bed and Lillith squealed at the sight of her uncle.

Lorabeth tucked Anna under her covers while Benjamin spoke with her sister.

“I am missing Mama,” Lillith told him with a pout.

“It’s only one night,” he assured her. “She’s busy, you know.”

“Bringing us a sister,” Lillith replied delightedly.

“Could be it’s a brother,” he reminded her.

“We got lots of them, but we only got me and Anna for sisters, so we need another.”

“I want a puppy!” Anna called from her bed.

Benjamin looked across at her and grinned. “You’ll have to talk to your mama and papa about that.”

“Wake me up when the baby comes,” Lillith told him in all sincerity.

Benjamin glanced at Lorabeth, but she wasn’t familiar with the customs of this family and didn’t know how to answer. She waited for him to reply.

“We’ll wake you,” he promised.

“’Night, Mith Lorrie,” Anna said in her sweet baby voice.

“Good night, Anna.”

Lorabeth traded places with Benjamin and he gave Anna a hug and kiss while Lorabeth spoke to Lillith.

Finally she turned down the wick until the room was in darkness and padded toward the door.

Benjamin was right behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body as she stepped into the hall lit only by a single reflecting tin lamp.

She was tempted to stop and experience the moment, but the door to Caleb and Ellie’s room opened and Sophie came out carrying a tray. Lorabeth hurried to take it. “Can I get you something?”

“I can manage,” she replied, keeping her hold on the tray. “But you must be exhausted. You’ve been working since dawn.”

“I’m pretty tired,” Lorabeth admitted. “I don’t think I could sleep, though.”

“Why don’t you go out for some air?” she suggested.

She turned to Benjamin. “Lorabeth needs a change of scenery. Ellie said she’s been running after her and the children all week.”

“It’s no problem,” Lorabeth assured her while the thought of getting out of the house appealed.

Sophie wasn’t going to be put off. “No arguments now. Are the children all in bed?”

Ben explained that the girls were down and the boys would be next.

“As soon as Nate and David are tucked in,” Sophie said, “Flynn can listen for a problem. I’m here for Ellie and Caleb. Benjamin, take Lorabeth out for some air.”

Lorabeth’s body was physically tired, but she never slept more than five hours a night. She read until her eyes were weary, and then she fell asleep only to wake while it was still dark. The thought of a walk in the night air with the heavens stretching out above sounded far better than attempting elusive sleep. And the anticipation that she would go walking with Benjamin rejuvenated her immediately.

Lorabeth thanked her and turned to him. “If you want to send the boys up, I’ll get a shawl from my room.”

Several minutes later, man and horse stood silhouetted by the moon, both handsome, both restless. Benjamin said something to the animal, patted its neck.

“Where to?” she asked.

“We don’t necessarily need a destination, but if you’d like a plan, we’ll walk to the park.”

“The park? Lovely!”

Lorabeth wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and appreciated that he didn’t seem inclined to walk slowly on her behalf. Darkness had settled over the city, and the moon was a mere sliver of silver in the sky. A train whistle blew, a melancholy sound that reminded her of all the places she’d never been and all the things she wanted to do.

“Where did you attend university?” she asked.

“Chicago.”

“Is it exciting, the big city?”

“It’s bigger…all hustle and bustle like the train station.”

She took a jelly bean from her pocket and extended it to him. He shook his head, so she placed it on her tongue where the sweet flavor melted. “Did you visit museums and the theater?”

He nodded. A gas lamp cast his face into interesting shadows. “Sometimes.”

“I read about Chicago in the
Florence Herald.
Dr.

Chaney subscribes to that and the
Newton Kansan,
and sometimes he leaves them for us to use in the kitchen.

I don’t read them when I’m supposed to be working, of course. I wait until bedtime. And in the morning I return them to the rubbish bin.”

“I’m sure Caleb doesn’t mind you reading the newspapers.”

“I asked his permission.”

Of course she had. Her interest made it sound as though she’d never read a newspaper until recently.

“Doesn’t your father read the newspaper?”

“Oh, no. It’s not edifying.”

He’d sat through a good many of her father’s Sunday sermons, but had never heard Reverend Holdridge express concern about people spoiling their minds with current events.

She glanced at Ben with a new look of concern. “Do you think less of me for reading a worldly publication?”

As though it mattered what he thought of her. “No.

I read the news myself. Would your father disapprove of me reading it?”

“I couldn’t say. He requires more discipline of him self and of his children than of others.”

Benjamin didn’t think it was undisciplined to read the newspaper, but he didn’t want to speak against her father or his convictions, so he said nothing.

They reached Broadway and neared the entrance to the darkened park. There had been gas lamps along the street, but in the one square block between Broadway and Seventh, there were only dark brick walkways, hedges and fading flowers lit by the moon.

“It’s so dark,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

“I don’t think so.”

“We don’t have to go into the park, we can walk around the outside…or we can head back.”

“No. No, I want to go in.” She took a forward step, but halted. “I want to, but it’s a little frightening.”

“Let’s head back—”

“No.” She extended her arm. “Just hold my hand, will you?”

Touching her was a liberty he didn’t feel he should take. The time they’d spent together already was too much.

His pulse thumped guiltily.

She was waiting. She would feel safe with him holding her hand, how ironic was that? This young innocent preacher’s daughter trusted him to keep her safe. She was the most naive person he’d ever known. He wouldn’t be the one to spoil that.

“Let’s turn back,” he said abruptly, and turned away from her.

She walked to his side, and he headed back the way they’d come.

“I’m sorry,” she said, staying beside him. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. Forget it.”

The easy conversation they’d shared was behind, and it was okay, because he should never have let his guard down in the first place. Keeping it like this would be easier.

They walked in silence all the way back to the Chaney home where the only light from an upstairs window shone from his sister’s room. He held open the front door, and Lorabeth entered into the foyer ahead of him.

“If you’d like to lie down, I can make up a bed for you,” Lorabeth offered, always kind, always thoughtful.

“I’ll wait in the library,” he said, accustomed to holding back, keeping himself apart from others. “You go ahead and rest.”

She moved toward the rear hallway.

“Aren’t you going to your room?” he asked.

“I’m going to use the wash room first,” she told him.

He turned away, feeling more foolish than ever.

Lorabeth drew water from the back of the stove and carried it to the wash room. She was exhausted, it was true. Every new experience was exhilarating, and she didn’t want to miss out on a thing. Benjamin hadn’t wanted to take her hand, that had been the problem, she guessed, and she felt awkward and ignorant. In her excitement, she’d made a blunder that had put a wrinkle in things between them.

She was confused, and confusion was an unfamiliar feeling. She was used to having things straight in her head. She’d always known what she wanted. Or she thought she’d known. She’d wanted more. A way out. A life without censor or deprivation.

And here she was, living in the town doctor’s home, privileged to a way of life she’d only dreamed of until now. She should have been content.

But she
did
want more. There was still so much to explore and dreams to indulge.

Benjamin stirred up all those dreams and longings she’d held dear for so long. He was the first man besides her father and brothers that she’d spent any time with, and he intrigued her.

He was waiting for her when she returned, and the sight created a warm glow in her chest.

She studied him in the golden flicker of the lamp that hung on the foyer wall. He had nice eyes, friendly but sort of sad, a straight slim nose and a generous mouth that rarely curved into a smile. Looking at him made her stomach feel funny.

A thin wail traveled down from the upstairs hall.

Benjamin’s face tilted upward in expectation. The cry was the only sound in the enormous house. Seconds ticked by and their gazes met and held in expectancy. Gooseflesh rose along Lorabeth’s arms and down her spine.

Finally the wavering cry ended, and a door opened and closed. Dr. Chaney appeared at the head of the stairs wearing rumpled clothing and a tired grin.

“It’s a girl,” he said, making his way down to where they waited, and Lorabeth had to move aside to let him pass on the stairs.

“Ellie?” The single name was Benjamin’s only question.

“Ellie’s just fine,” Dr. Chaney assured him. “Tired but fine.”

Relief crossed Benjamin’s features.

“As soon as Sophie helps Ellie change and freshen up, you can go in and see them.”

Lorabeth thought Benjamin might simply head on home now that he knew everything was all right, but he nodded and perched on the bottom stair to wait.

Dr. Chaney enlisted Lorabeth to help wake the children, share the news and ferry them one at a time from their beds to their mother and back. Each child was given a few minutes alone with their parents and new sibling while Lorabeth stood near the door and waited. More than once she saw Caleb and Ellie gazing upon their new child, on their older children, and sharing loving smiles.

Once Dr. Chaney leaned over Ellie and pressed his face to her hair as though she was the air he needed to breathe. The moment was so precious, so painfully intimate, that Lorabeth’s heart ached with yearning for a similar bond, a tender belonging.

By the time the last child had seen the new sister, Lorabeth had dozens of tender images stored in her mind.

“I’ll be heading home now,” Benjamin told her after he’d seen his sister. He plucked his hat from a hook on the coat tree in the foyer. “I locked the kitchen door and checked all the windows.”

“Thank you.” A lonely ache had swelled in her chest until she felt close to tears for no good reason.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Good night.”

“Thanks for supper,” he added.

“Thank you for all your help.”

He settled the hat on his head and strode off the porch.

Lorabeth watched him mount the black horse that whinnied at his approach and listened until the sound of hoof beats on the brick street faded into the distance.

After turning down the remaining lamp wicks, she climbed the stairs to her room.

There’d been a time when she’d seen the bleakness and toil of her mother’s days and dreaded growing up into the same kind of life. Her mother had known there was more, too. She’d been powerless to change things for herself, but she’d made certain to encourage Lorabeth to strive for more.

Now Lorabeth knew that one day she wanted her own home and a family. She’d worked for the Chaneys for two years, and in that time she’d had plenty of opportunities to be certain of what it was she wanted for her own life.

From her bedroom window, she gazed out into the dark night and tried to imagine where the park was. Why had she been so hesitant to go in? One of her dreams of freedom had been fulfilled this night, but she’d been afraid to plunge in all the way and dare the unknown.

Never again. She’d never again miss anything by holding back.

A
ppreciating the physical exertion that same week, Ben tossed down hay from the top of a stack in the barn and forked it to the stalls in the rear. He’d put a lot of enthusiasm into commanding his head and his will into submission over the past several years. He worked to use his energy in good ways because he had to be a man of strong character.

His life had been all about self-control, but it had been too easy. He should have known. He’d never been tempted from his purpose or distracted by physical or emotional desires. Until now.

Lorabeth was his weakness. He recognized it. He resented it. She was all he valued and respected. She was pure and innocent.

Doubly dangerous because of her perfection. She stirred up responses that he had vowed never to allow.

The sound of a buggy alerted him to the presence of a visitor or a patient. Dropping the pitchfork with a flurry of swirling dust motes, he strode out into the sunshine and met the female driver who stepped down.

“Mornin’, ma’am. Fine day for a ride.”

Her straw bonnet hid most of her face from view as she turned to the rear floor of the conveyance and took out a crate covered with an afghan. “I’ve brought my Minnie for your help, Doctor. It seems the foolish girl has managed to get a fish hook stuck through her paw.”

A loud mewl from inside the crate told Benjamin that the feline inside wasn’t any happier than its owner.

He stepped forward. “Let’s have a look at Minnie.”

The woman held the crate forward at the same time she introduced herself. “I’m…I’m…” She flattened her palm against her chest and stared at him as though she’d seen an apparition. “Oh, my.”

“Ma’am?”

“I’m—Susanne Evans,” she said haltingly.

Ben took the crate, but her eyes didn’t leave his face.

“You’re Dr. Chaney?”

“My brother-in-law is the medical doctor, as I’m sure you know. I’m the vet. Call me Ben.”

He guessed her to be in her mid-thirties.

She had black hair and ebony-winged brows above green eyes. She was a striking woman, full-figured and apple-cheeked.

She stared at him. Then, as though realizing she hadn’t let go of the crate, she jerked her hand away. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

“What?”

Her skin seemed unusually pale.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Evans?”

She nodded.

“Do you want to come into my office while I look at your cat?”

She nodded.

“Do you need a drink of water or somethin’?”

She cleared her throat. “No.”

He peeled away the afghan to have a look at his patient. The animal was a long slender Siamese with sleek silver fur, black ears and facial tinting and narrow blue eyes. “She’s a beauty.”

“She was a gift from my husband.” Mrs. Evans followed him into the house and to the area he used for his office and examining rooms.

Ben spoke to the animal in a low comforting tone to gain its trust, petted her and fed her a tiny piece of jerky.

Mrs. Evans was now making him self-conscious with her stare.

He looked her in the eye. “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head without a word and glanced away. Her attention fastened on the glass jars where he kept treats for his patients.

“It looks like the candy counter at the mercantile, but with bits of jerky and—what’s that?”

“Dried apple. When did this happen?”

“This morning. She got out when the children left for school and I found her in the shed where my husband keeps his fishing poles. I had to cut the poor thing loose from the line. Why the man left a hook on the line is more than I can figure out.”

“She’s gonna be just fine,” Ben assured her. “Why don’t you help me hold her.”

Once he had the cat’s trust, he hooked a short leash to her collar and secured her to the examining table.

“Look away and don’t breathe this,” he instructed Mrs. Evans.

Talking in a soft tone, he doused a cloth with ether and held it to the feline’s nose. The cat tried to pull away for a panicky moment, but succumbed to the fumes and fell limp on the table.

The cat’s owner released the pet and sat in a nearby chair to watch.

Ben quickly poured disinfectant over the paw, then cut the hook in two with a small pair of wire cutters. Once the prongs were disposed of, he pulled the hook out and firmly pressed a wad of cotton to the wound to stop the minimal blood flow, all the while aware of the woman’s scrutiny.

Within minutes Minnie’s paw was dabbed with ointment and bandaged. He washed his hands and placed his instruments in a pan of disinfectant.

“How much do I owe you?” Mrs. Evans asked.

“Two bits should do it,” he answered, drying his hands.

She took a coin from her purse and handed it to him. “You have a gentle touch. Confident and capable.”

“She’s gonna wake up groggy and disoriented. Maybe mad as a hornet.” Ben wrapped the cat in the afghan and handed her over like a sleeping baby. “I suggest you put her in the box and keep her there for a time so she doesn’t hurt herself when she wakes up.”

Mrs. Evans nodded and lowered the animal into the crate. “We’re fortunate you chose to practice in Newton.”

“Never thought about anywhere else,” he said, picking it up for her and leading the way out of doors. “Family’s here.”

“Your parents, too?” she asked, following.

“No. My sister and her family and my brother.”

He set the crate in the back floor of the buggy.

The woman’s questions continued. “Have you lived in Newton your whole life?”

The way she kept looking at him made him uncomfortable. “No, ma’am. We grew up nearby though.”

“Forgive me, but I’ve met Dr. Chaney—the other Dr. Chaney, I mean—and if you’re not his brother, how can your name be Chaney, too?”

It was a logical thing to wonder. Sometimes Ben questioned taking the Chaney name and the respect and history that went along with it, like borrowing the name as though it was a pair of shoes that didn’t fit.

“My brother-in-law adopted me and my brother,” he answered simply.

“So…your mother…is she…?”

“She’s dead. You wouldn’t have known her.”

That look of curiosity and suspicion that he hated to see in people’s eyes made him angry. He found a lap blanket and tucked it around the crate, so the cat wouldn’t wake up and escape.

“You must think I’m awfully rude,” Mrs. Evans said.

Without comment, Ben straightened and assisted her up to the seat.

“It’s just…”

He waited.

“I’d like you to meet my husband,” she said finally.

He nodded. “I’m sure it’d be a pleasure, ma’am.”

She gave him a last long look and shook the reins over the horses’ backs.

Ben watched her go, shrugged off his irritation and went inside to clean up his exam room. It was still early enough to make a trip to the library.

“Ben, I want you to take Lorabeth to Zeta Payton’s home social this Saturday night.”

“What?” Ben looked at his sister. It was Sunday evening, and they were sharing a simple meal. The extended Chaney family had headed back to Florence a short time ago.

It had been Baby Madeline’s first day at church, and the family was in good spirits.

Lorabeth had carried dishes into the kitchen.

“Sophie and I talked about this. The young people hold socials every Saturday night. They play games and the like. I’ve never known Lorabeth to take any time for herself. She even helps me all weekend and late into the evening. And I’m beginning to have my suspicions about her supposed mornings off.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think she goes to her father’s and does all their laundry and cleaning on those days.”

Ben thought about it and remembered Lorabeth’s mention of no time to go for walks or visit the library.

“She needs to get out and mingle with people her own age,” Ellie added. “Working all the time isn’t healthy. Please do this for me. I want to see her get out and have fun, and she’ll be more comfortable if you’re there to introduce her.”

“I don’t go to things like that,” he objected.

“It won’t hurt you, either,” she insisted.

“Ellie, you know I’m not like all those others.”

“Oh, you’re too special to associate with the commoners?” she asked with a raised brow.

Caleb shot Ben a look that said he might as well give in and do her bidding while he was ahead.

Ellie asked so little of him, and Lorabeth was her right hand. He could do this for both of them. “Oh, all right.”

Ellie smiled in satisfaction. “I’m going to get the girls ready for bed now.”

Caleb rose from the table. “Nate and I will take care of the dishes.”

Flynn had gone to visit friends for the evening.

“Lorabeth,” Ellie addressed her when she returned, “take off your apron and get some air now.”

Lorabeth glanced at her employers, immediately removed her apron and headed for the door.

Ellie stared at Ben pointedly.

He pushed back his chair and stood to follow her to the porch.

She was sitting on the top step, her forearms crossed on her knees. She glanced up at his approach.

He leaned against the column and studied the darkening sky. “The home social is at Zeta Payton’s this Saturday night.”

“What is that?”

He’d been a couple of times in the past. Those who attended had been classmates the short time he’d been in school in Newton and they invited him on occasion. “They drink punch and play parlor games.” He didn’t like participating because he didn’t know the children’s nursery rhymes they took for granted in some of the games. “Kind of silly. You might know a few of the girls from school, though, and it would be a good chance to make some friends.”

She was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Will you go?” he asked.

“A party? Have you invited me to a party? I’ve read stories about dances and social events, but the only activities I’ve ever been allowed to attend were church functions. I doubt I have the proper clothing. I would have to shop.”

“Ellie will help you.”

“We’re going then? To a party? Young people and maybe…maybe dancing?”

“Maybe dancing,” he answered with a lopsided grin.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks as though they stung. She dropped them immediately.

“What if my father finds out? He might make me go back.”

“Caleb and Ellie approve, and they’re serving as your guardians, aren’t they?”

“I suppose they are at that.”

“You’re safe with me, and I could always assure him of that.”

“I have to start thinking like an adult, don’t I?”

He gave her a grin.

“There’s another worry,” she said. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“It’s not hard,” he told her. “I’ll show you. Ellie will show you. Flynn’s a really good dancer.”

“Now? Will you show me now?” She stood expectantly.

With no music? And alone out here on the porch? Warning signals went off in his head, but he silenced them and straightened. How could he say no and dim the excitement in her eyes? She was eager and fragile, and he couldn’t reject her. He could endure anything for Ellie and for the young woman who took such good care of his sister and her family.

So he did something he’d avoided, something he knew wasn’t safe: he took her right hand in his left and placed it at his waist. He took her other hand and folded it in his while he rested fingertips on her back. He stood with Lorabeth in his arms, the scent of her fragrant hair under his nose.

Her nearness challenged his restraint, and there wasn’t a man in all of Kansas who worked harder at self-control. He had to.

The fact that she’d never been held by a man or danced in his arms humbled him and gave him courage. At that moment there wasn’t anything he’d rather do than teach her to dance.

Cicadas provided the background music, and he explained the steps and the count. She fell right into the pattern and followed him effortlessly. Each time they turned and passed before the light from the parlor window, the joy on her face took his breath away.

“I’m dancing!” she exclaimed, her voice breathless.

She laughed, and the sound whittled away defenses he’d built for the safekeeping of his heart and pounded at barriers that protected his sanity. He felt an overwhelming desire to draw her against him and bury his face in her hair. His body reacted with purely male instincts.

Ben fought to rebuild that wall, mentally corrected himself and took a step back, releasing her. What was Ellie thinking? “I have to go.”

She clasped her hands to her breast.

He opened the door and reached inside for his hat. “But I have something in my saddlebags for you.”

“What is it?”

He went to the horse and withdrew the books he’d checked out of the library with her in mind. Carrying them to her, he placed the stack in her hands.

“You remembered.” Her voice revealed awe. She closed her arms around the books.

“Just picked a few I thought you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

He looked away.

“I’ll see you on Saturday, then,” she said.

He hesitated. He’d made a promise. “Yes.”

He couldn’t reach Titus fast enough. A look over his shoulder showed him she was leaning against the pillar where he’d been earlier, watching him go.

He untethered the horse, placed his foot in the stirrup, launched himself onto the saddle and rode like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

Distance wouldn’t help. He couldn’t escape himself.