Wishes & Tears (20 page)

Faith tended to Andrew as the doctor watched intently, though pretending to eat his breakfast. She buttered Andrew’s biscuit and slathered it with jam. She removed the shell from his egg, sliced his ham into edible cubes, and poured maple syrup over his hotcakes. Andrew sat patient and still. After taking care of Andrews’s needs, Faith focused on her own plate. She delicately held her fork, she slowly chewed, and she sat erect and poised, knowing that he was observing her. As Faith looked up, she caught the doctor’s gaze.

• • •

Looking into her eyes was like looking into the future, deep and mysterious. The future! She claimed to be from the future! He felt flush and shaky and had to look away. A woman never had such an effect on him. Even his wife, whom he loved deeply, hadn’t touched him so completely. When near, Faith caused an earthquake to rattle his body as well as mind. The ensuing fire in his heart, soul, and groin was as difficult to extinguish. When Constance was in his life, he had an excuse to avoid Faith and to deny the feelings she stirred within him. Constance was gone.

Constance was the type of woman a man in his social circle and profession was supposed to be attracted to. She was young, beautiful, wealthy, spoiled, his social equal. Next to Faith, though, she was a mere child. Faith had the maturity, intellect, strength, caring, and spontaneity that he found stimulating and exciting. There was enough mystery surrounding her to keep him amused for decades. He chuckled at the thought. She was his child’s governess, though. A relationship with her would be social and professional suicide. His smile faded into the thin line of a grimace. After the breakfast dishes were cleared, Andrew asked to be excused. Faith rose from her seat to tend to him.

“Please stay, Miss Donahue,” the doctor invited.

“I must see to Andrew’s lessons.”

“Let the boy frolic for a while. I would like to talk to you.”

Faith hesitated for a moment and then sat.

“Bridget,” the doctor called.

“Sir?” Bridget peeked out of the pantry.

“Would you please mind Andrew? I wish to speak with Miss Donahue.”

“Yes, sir.” Bridget retreated. Soon, her booming brogue could be heard scolding the boy.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, analyzing Faith. She sat straight in her seat, her face in profile as she glanced toward the pantry after Bridget and Andrew. Her features were delicate and classical as if chiseled by a sculptor, her complexion as ivory and smooth as fine marble. Her hair was medium brown without a hint of gray, her eyes a youthful glistening aquamarine. He tried to guess her age but was stumped. He knew she was older than Constance, but younger than he, perhaps in her mid to late twenties? Unless, of course she was from 100 years hence which would put her somewhere around 135 or so. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Even though evidence pointed toward the theory of Faith being a time traveler from the future, he still had a difficult time accepting it as fact.

“Tell me about your world,” Doctor Forrester said, his curiosity growing.

As Faith turned to face him, she straightened up in her seat, adjusting her skirt, like a witness preparing to be interrogated at the bench.

“Are you sure you want to hear about my world?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I want to hear everything.”

“Haven’t I offered enough proof of my journey already?”

“Your picture book, the medical text, your miracle medicines, your clothing and ways, your predictions are certainly not of this place and time.”

She sighed and smiled.

“At first I thought it preposterous yet I can offer no explanation. I need to learn more.”

“So, you’ve finally come to the realization that I’m not crazy?”

He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “Perhaps it is I who am crazy for believing you. What you know and what you’ve done defy all human logic and scientific explanation.”

She grinned.

“Tell me, what is society and the human condition like in 2006?”

After drawing a deep breath she began a thorough explanation of technology yet invented, of appliances yet manufactured, of shifting morals and freely casual fashion, of modern convenience and ease and economy of travel, of medical milestones, and of history yet to be made.

• • •

Beginning at the breakfast table, continuing with a long afternoon stroll and sit in the park, the discussion carried over to the dinner hour. They found themselves seated at the dining table with Bridget serving fried chicken and country ham.

The aroma of fruit and spice awakened pangs of hunger in Faith. The all-day conversation had kept her so preoccupied she had given little thought to food. She closed her eyes and savored the scent of hot comfort food. When she opened them, they were met by the doctor’s dark, deep gaze. A different hunger gnawed at her and she shifted uneasily in her seat. She looked down at her plate to avoid his eyes.

“Is something wrong, Miss Donahue?” he asked.

“No,” she lied. Something was wrong even when destiny was proving it right. After the fiasco with Brad, she tried to keep all sexual and romantic notions buried. Time spent with Doctor Forrester, the sound of his dusky voice, his spicy mint scent, his seductive smile, and intense gaze was stirring them up.

“Miss Donahue, I have another question.”

“It seems I’ve answered quite a few already today.”

“Why did you come back in time? What explanation do you have for appearing in San Francisco in 1906 and coming into my life? Surely, you could have traveled to other times and places and touched other lives?”

Her heart stopped and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t look at him and sat frozen. She was unraveling. I came to meet you, to love you, to marry you and bear a child I so desperately want!

“What is your theory, Miss Donahue?” He was staring through her.

“I … I don’t have a theory. I don’t know,” she lied.

He leaned forward. “I have a theory.”

“You … you do?” Her heart now was beating faster than ever and she was growing flush and faint.

“You came back to save my life,” he said in a calm, unaffected tone.

“Your life?” She was staring at him with eyes wide open and mouth agape.

“Yes, several times.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to. Unknown to you, before and after your arrival here, I have spent the early dawns in the shanty town South of Market tending to the poor and unfortunate. I felt it was my call to help those without as well as those with an overabundance. If not for your warning, I would have been there during the earthquake and been trapped in the midst of the fire. With the high death toll, Andrew would have surely been without a father.”

“I never knew,” she mumbled at the shock of the revelation.

“The second time you saved my life was when you saved Andrew’s life from that wretched bout of diphtheria. If Andrew died, I, too, would be dead. I couldn’t and wouldn’t live without him.”

She choked back tears.

“The third time was how you made me come to my senses about Constance LaDue. Comparing your attributes to hers made me realize what a mistake I was making by becoming betrothed to her. Though I was born into it, I am not a man who lives by high society’s standards. Health care isn’t something that should be bought and neither should love and happiness.”

She dabbed at tears settling in the corner of her eyes.

“See, you’ve saved me from certain death, from smothering myself in a profession of hand-holding society matrons when my passion is in healing the less fortunate, and, in realizing that, I was about to marry the wrong person.”

“I don’t know what to say, Doctor Forrester.” She really didn’t. “I won’t take credit for acts of fate.”

“Then, for acts of Faith?” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand.

Her hand seemed so small and insignificant in his large, firm grasp. As he squeezed her hand, currents of electricity tingled up her arm and down her spine. She could feel the hairs rise on her neck and shivered at the effect. He was holding her hand and staring at her with equal intensity. Sparks ignited within her and seemed to arc between them. She never felt so moved in her life. No man ever made her tingle. Until now.

“Papa!” Andrew called, wriggling out of Bridget’s grasp and bolting into the dining room. “Miss Donahue!”

“Andrew!” Faith and Doctor Forrester said in unison, exchanging a silent glance.

The doctor released her hand in time to gather his son up on to his lap and into his arms.

“I’m sorry, sir. The wee one was determined,” Bridget apologized. She snickered at the doctor and winked at Faith.

“No need to worry. He just takes after his father,” Doctor Forrester said.

“Are you and Miss Donahue getting married?” Andrew asked.

“Why?”

“You were holding hands!”

“So tell me, is the governess about to get betrothed to the good doctor?” Bridget asked, hands on her hips as she confronted Faith in her attic bedroom.

Faith looked up from her seat on the lumpy mattress and stopped brushing her tangle of hair. Attired in her flannel nightgown, she was ready for bed, not interrogation.

“Well?” Bridget persisted.

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“I’m not blind.”

Faith sighed. “I know it would be very hard for you to understand.”

“There’s a great deal I don’t understand about you, Miss Donahue. One thing, though, I am certain of.”

“And what’s that?”

“The good doctor has taken a liking to you.” Bridget raised her eyebrows, her lacy linen nightcap bobbing up and down. “I see the way he’s been looking at you of late. He’s been seeing more than his child’s governess. I think he’s seeing his child’s new mother.”

“Didn’t he see Constance as mother material also? Where is she now?”

Bridget chuckled. “Miss LaDue is probably setting her hooks in some other unsuspecting fellow. As for you, I’ve always thought that you and the good doctor were meant for each other. I always felt that there was a reason for your coming into our lives.”

Faith smiled. Even Bridget understood Faith’s destiny. During most of her years, Faith had thought that you created your own life and future. She never understood the mysterious outside forces that propelled, like a current, sweeping one along on a charted course through life. Everything had a reason. Life wasn’t just happenstance and circumstance. There was some divine plan. Somehow, she was meant to live in 1906 with Doctor Forrester, Andrew, and Bridget.

“Oh, Bridget, there is a reason for my being here with all of you,” she said. “I’m starting over in a place and time where I finally belong.”

Where I belong. Faith had never admitted it before, but she knew it was true. Her entire life had been spent trying to fit into society. She had thought that Bradley was her key. He had turned the shy, ugly duckling, farm girl entering her freshman year into a lovely, sophisticated swan by graduation. He made her feel wanted by marrying her and whisking her away to San Francisco. Teaching had opened up the diverse world to her, and Clarice had taught her about friendship and empathy.

Deep inside, though, she was the same insecure Faith who put on the public façade of confidence and social savvy. Moving away and losing her parents, and losing her marriage, made her travel full circle. Here she was, starting over. She was back to the simple things like mousy brown hair and no make-up, back to flannel nightgowns, and drab clothes, back to dreaming about marriage and children. There was a big difference. She was older and wiser. She also knew her future and she liked what she foresaw.

• • •

After settling Andrew down for his afternoon nap, Faith wandered into the library where she liked to spend quiet time among the worn leather volumes amply lining the shelves. Doctor Forrester’s collection was eclectic and ranged from classics like Homer’s
Odyssey
to Jack London’s
Call of the Wild
. As she perused the shelves, she admired the doctor’s taste in literature but what she wouldn’t give for a Danielle Steele tearjerker or a James Michener historical epic.

She turned to face the doctor’s mahogany desk. His wire-rim glasses lay atop an open book. Out of curiosity, she moved the delicate frames, and turned over the book to see its cover. The title made her gasp,
The Time Machine
by H.G. Wells. Lying next to it was her picture book of San Francisco.

“So this is where you spend your free time?” came a voice from behind.

Startled, Faith jumped, only to meet the gaze of Doctor Forrester, who stood in the doorway holding his medical satchel. His face was drawn with a four o’clock shadow shading it. His shirt collar was loose and his tie undone. He wasn’t his impeccable self and she wondered why.

“Doctor Forrester, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, putting down the book.

He set down his satchel and stepped into the library.

“So what are you reading today, Miss Donahue?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“You were holding a book.” He approached her.

“Oh that.”

The doctor walked up to the desk and glanced over at the open volume and his eyes met Faith’s. “I see that you’re more interested in my selection.”

“Just curious, nothing more,” she said, looking at him. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his lips were trembling. He looked like hell. “Doctor, is everything okay?” she asked. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m not well,” he muttered, plopping into the overstuffed chair. He lifted his hands to his head, grasping at his hair in torment. “Oh, God!” he cried, closing his eyes as tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Can I get you some water? Some brandy?” Faith asked. She had never seen him in such a state. He was usually so together.

“Just sit,” he said, pointing to the floor at his side.

She knelt down, looking up at him. “Shall I get Bridget? Is there anything I can do?”

“No. No. There’s nothing anyone can do. Nothing.”

“At least tell me what’s wrong,” she prompted. “It’s always better to talk things out.”

He opened his blurry eyes, wiping away tears with his hands. “Oh, Faith, I’m so sorry you had to see me like this. The last time this happened was when … when.” He choked on his words. “When Andrew was born. I … I couldn’t save his mother and this morning I couldn’t save Angelina either. It was like reliving the whole wretched nightmare.”