Choices of the Heart, page 4
Beyond being useful to one another, though, they’d grown to be good friends. Burke hadn’t had that in a long time. He kept in touch with Alexander but hadn’t seen him in years. From all Burke had learned of Patrick’s history before returning to his family in Hope Springs, that man had wanted for friends as well.
“I thought Joseph was going to topple right over when he realized his ma was here all the way from Baltimore,” Patrick said with a laugh. “And he seemed even more shocked that her companion had arrived whole.”
“That still strikes me as odd. Miss Kingston seems reliable and calm headed. But that does not seem to be Joseph’s impression of her.”
“Have you sorted out her connection to all of them?”
Burke shook his head. A great deal about Miss Kingston remained a mystery.
“Miss Emma is doing a fine job looking after her granny, from all I can tell,” Patrick said. “You might have yourself the makings of a fine nurse there.”
The oldest Archer girl was reliable as the day was long, and she had a good head on her shoulders. But Burke had learned over his three years in Hope Springs that she worried tremendously when people were unwell. There was no telling if those anxieties would prove too much when tending to patients who were in a bad way.
“My Eliza’s been a bit nervous with Miss Kingston here,” Patrick said. “She and Mrs. Archer are the most elegant people we’ve had at our inn. Likely the finest we’ll ever have. Joseph’s been one of us for so long, ’tis easy to forget that he has claim to that too.”
“I had a patient in Chicago not long after I finished my schooling whom Mrs. Archer reminds me of. She, too, was quite flush in the pocket and, as Mrs. Archer seems to be, a good sort of person. She also paid me generously enough for me to purchase the doctoring bag I am still using.” That had been the best sort of surprise. “The well-to-do patients were in no way more important, but when they were generous, it was a very helpful thing.”
“The grandest building I ever worked on was the viceroy’s residence in Ottowa.” Patrick had traveled about as a builder before settling down in Hope Springs. “The people who call that building home have more money than the likes of you and I will ever see. Yet, I can’t say those of us who toiled at that building site were paid terribly well.”
Burke nodded slowly, his mind filling with far too many similar remembrances. “Generosity from the wealthy is welcome, but stinginess seems more common.”
“A full shame, that.”
“And yet,” Burke continued, “there are folks like your family who haven’t a great deal to their names, but what they have they share willingly and readily.”
“M’parents and siblings are good sorts, though I say it m’self. They gave me hope when I hadn’t any of m’own.”
The entire O’Connor clan had made Burke feel welcome in Hope Springs from the very first. He was deeply grateful for that. And Patrick and Eliza had become friends, which he’d needed. Still, there was a hole, a gap in his life.
Patrick’s family offered him the hope and reassurance he needed. Burke didn’t have any family to speak of. And he felt that lack more often than he cared to admit.
During the brief silence between them, Miss Kingston arrived in the public room. She’d arrived a bit disheveled the day before. She’d since put herself to rights. And yet, something about her didn’t entirely fit the prim impression she was giving. A few tendrils hung wild from her very properly styled hair. Her fashionable dress was paired with very sensible shoes rather than elegant ones. Her eyes darted about the space with an eagerness that contradicted the sedate expressions most of her station adopted.
She was so very intriguing.
“Good afternoon.” She smiled at them and crossed directly to them. “I’ve come looking for a task.”
She was a decidedly direct person, there was no mistaking that.
“How are you with a hammer and nails?” Patrick asked.
“I haven’t the first idea.” Miss Kingston made the admission without any indication of embarrassment. “But I’m willing to try my hand.”
“You’ll end up pounding your hand, is what you’ll do.” Patrick barely held back a laugh. “Sanding’d be a safer choice.”
“I’ve never done that before, either, but I’m a quick study at most things.” Miss Kingston watched them both with seeming eagerness.
“Why is it you’re not looking after Mrs. Archer?” Burke asked. He needed to know if his one and only patient had been left alone with no one to answer her call should she be in distress.
“It seems half the town is looking after Mrs. Archer,” Miss Kingston responded. “The younger Mrs. Archer, all three of her children, a Mrs. Dempsey, whom I’ve not met before, as well as a Mrs. O’Connor, are all up there attempting to be in the room with our ailing patient, despite there not being nearly enough space for so many people.”
“The rooms may be small and humble, but they’re adequate.”
Her brow pulled in confusion. “I wasn’t insulting your rooms.”
Why was it she managed to put his back up so quickly? It had happened before in the twenty-four hours she’d been in Hope Springs. He didn’t dislike her; not at all. But she had him on edge.
“Have you any idea which Mrs. O’Connor is visiting?” Patrick asked.
Miss Kingston smiled. “Not your wife. That is the extent of my ability to identify her.”
“Your options are a lady who wears green-tinted spectacles, one who is a bit older than I am with a sweet disposition, or a woman old enough to be my mother.”
“Because she is your mother,” Burke said.
Amusement sat entirely naturally in Miss Kingston’s expression. “The woman visiting upstairs was not wearing spectacles, and, while she was quite lovely, I suspect she is not the sweetly disposed woman of about your age.”
“Ma, then.” Patrick smiled fondly. “I’d wager she heard someone new had arrived and couldn’t contain her curiosity.”
“Their arrival put Miss Emma out of a job, though.” Miss Kingston looked to Burke. “I suspect she was not overly pleased to be relieved of duty.”
Burke nodded his agreement. “Losing the ability to help as much as she has since last night is likely a disappointment to her.”
Miss Kingston took up a bit of sanding paper and stood next to him. “What do you need me to do?”
“You truly mean to help us make furniture?” Burke had known a few socially prominent people over the years—those he’d treated in Chicago, those who’d made a point of coming to the orphanage to see if their charitable donations had been put to good use, those who’d turned up their noses at him when he’d attempted to find his place after medical school—and they’d never shown the slightest inclination toward physical labor.
“Emma is not the only one who is disappointed to not have a useful occupation.”
Interesting. She might have looked more polished than she had upon her arrival in Hope Springs the day before, but there remained an unpredictable liveliness about her. She kept still but gave every indication of preferring to be on the move.
“The sanding’s meant to take off any jagged bits or sharp edges,” Patrick said. “No real trick to it.”
“Perfect.” Miss Kingston sat herself on the other side of the chair Burke was working on and began mimicking his efforts. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing this wrong?”
“If you’d like,” Burke said, keeping his focus on his work.
“When do you suppose Mrs. Archer will be well enough to relocate to Joseph’s home?” she asked as she sanded the edge of the chair.
“Likely tomorrow. She’s doing quite a lot better today.”
“Emma said there is a party of some kind on Saturday. Will Mrs. Archer be well enough to attend?”
“That’s our weekly céilí,” Patrick said. “It’ll be out on my da and ma’s land, since the weather promises to be good.”
Miss Kingston paused her sanding, her expression turning contemplative. “Does it grow terribly cold at night? She might not be well enough to endure a chill.”
That would likely not be Mrs. Archer’s biggest objection to the weekly gathering. Or Miss Kingston’s. “The céilís aren’t much like the soirees you’ll have attended in Baltimore.”
She looked over at him. “I can’t imagine they’re anything sordid, or else Emma wouldn’t have spoken of them with familiarity and approval.”
Burke shook his head and could see that Patrick did the same.
“’Tis families gathered for music and dancing and merrymaking,” Patrick said. “Nothing unseemly in it.”
“It’s not very staid and proper, though, either,” Burke said.
She did hesitate at that. He wouldn’t want Miss Kingston and Mrs. Archer to arrive at the céilí and feel uncomfortable or make the town, who loved their Saturday gatherings, feel self-conscious. The warning had been well worth giving. Regardless of what the women chose, they’d not be caught unaware.
Miss Kingston chatted, mostly with Patrick, as they all worked. She was an easy conversationalist. That would make her time in Hope Springs more pleasant.
Aidan O’Connor, one of Patrick’s nephews, stepped inside the inn. He was sixteen and done with his schooling. Most days he helped in the fields at home, but now and then he looked in on his aunt and uncle at the inn.
“What brings you ’round, Aidan?” Patrick asked.
“I heard the doctor had a patient.” Aidan, like many of the children born here to Irish families, carried hardly a hint of their ancestral homeland in his manner of speaking. “I thought maybe he could use some help around the place.”
“Emma Archer’s been here looking out for the patient,” Burke said. “She’s her grandmother, in fact.”
“Oh.” Aidan shifted about a bit awkwardly. “Emma’ll do a good job.”
“Yes. I have every confidence in her.”
Patrick eyed his nephew with something of a grin. “Could it be you heard Miss Emma was here and thought you might snatch a bit of her company?”
Aidan tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and eyed his uncle with a bit of annoyance. “Ain’t like that at all.”
“At all?” Patrick sounded on the verge of laughter.
The poor boy looked in need of an escape.
“I received a few apothecary jars in the last mercantile delivery,” Burke said. “They’re in a crate in the corner of my sitting room. If you have a few minutes to unpack those, I’d appreciate it.”
Aidan nodded eagerly and slipped back out of the inn.
“Is the boy truly sweet on Emma?” Miss Kingston asked.
Patrick shrugged. “I can’t say with any certainty. But they’re near in age and Miss Emma’s been turning a number of heads among that set lately. Couldn’t resist a little teasing.”
“I’ve known her since she was little and Joseph was making the trip back to Baltimore on his own with his daughters. I can hardly believe how much she’s grown up just in the last year or so.”
“How long have you known the Archers?” Burke never had sorted her connection to them.
“All my life, really. Though I’ve only lived with Mrs. Archer for a little over two years now.”
She lived with Mrs. Archer. So, likely an honorary daughter of sorts or an informal lady’s companion.
“Our families were friends in Baltimore. But my family now lives in Boston, and Mrs. Archer’s family is here. So, rather than being entirely alone, we look after one another.”
A family friend who was, if Burke were to guess, like family herself. And both claimed exalted positions in Baltimore’s high society.
Hope Springs was going to be quite an adjustment for them.
And they might very well prove an adjustment for the people of Hope Springs.
“There’s nothing wrong with having a few peculiarities, but it’s best if you don’t indulge in them around those who would not understand.”
Sophie’s parents had issued that well-intentioned warning on more than one occasion. She didn’t think they’d been embarrassed by her tendency to jump at new things or throw herself eagerly into interesting pursuits. But neither had they appreciated the comments she’d received or the way her oddities had convinced people to reject her. She felt certain they’d suggested she hide her eccentricities for her own sake even more than theirs.
They would likely have a few things to say if they could see her just then, helping make a chair in a humble inn beside a tiny town out in the wilds of the west. She, however, was enjoying herself immensely.
She couldn’t sort out Dr. Jones, though. He had a friendly manner about him. He’d helped Mrs. Archer without hesitation and had accepted Sophie’s help, as well as Emma’s, without looking down on their lack of experience. He seemed a good sort, but there was an unmistakable discomfort about him when he interacted with her. And he’d warned her about being out of place at the town party so often and so pointedly that she couldn’t help but think he didn’t want her to attend. Why was that? What possible objection could he have?
He kept very quiet as they worked. Fortunately, Eliza wandered by now and then, and Patrick filled in a lot of the silences. None of the moments between them became truly awkward.
They’d only been at their work for a short time when a wagon came to a stop in front of the inn. The public room had large windows, offering a view of both the road and the distant mountains.
A woman climbed down off the wagon seat. She didn’t come inside the inn but went directly to the infirmary door.
“It’s likely she’s looking for you, Doctor,” Patrick said.
“She didn’t appear entirely calm about it either.” Dr. Jones had already stepped away from the chair and was making his way outside.
Unsure if she would be of any help but wanting to do what she could, Sophie followed. The moment they emerged on the porch, the man who’d been driving the wagon, and who was climbing down himself, spoke.
“We’ve brought the children, Doc. They’re feverish and sluggish. They ain’t talking much. We’re worried about them.”
Dr. Jones nodded. “You did the right thing, Lorenzo. Let’s get them inside and see what we can find out.”
Lorenzo took a child from the wagon bed. Dr. Jones fetched the other. The two men carried the children inside. Sophie hesitated on the porch, not wanting to cause trouble and wishing she knew what would be best.
Over his shoulder, the doctor said, “If you don’t mind, I could use your help.”
It was as unexpected as it was welcome. She followed through the doors and into a sitting room. Tucked up against one wall was a little table, beside which was a cabinet containing jars and tins and various instruments. She’d not seen this part of his house, Mrs. Archer having been taken directly to a room above to lie down.
The woman Sophie had seen climbing from the wagon was there, apparently having been talking with Aidan. They both turned to look as everyone entered.
“You found the doctor,” the woman said to Lorenzo, whom Sophie guessed was her husband.
Dr. Jones sat the child he was carrying on the table and motioned for Lorenzo to do the same.
The two children looked to be the same age, twins, most likely, and somewhere near three years old. Their deep brown eyes took in the scene, but there was a decided lethargy about them. Sophie didn’t know what they looked like when feeling well, but she was certain their current pallor was not natural.
Dr. Jones was as quick and expert at checking their temperatures and pulses as he’d been with Mrs. Archer. He used the same calm and reassuring tone he had then. It was a fine skill for a doctor to have. It likely made treating people easier.
“How long have they been feeling poorly?” he asked.
“Only a couple of days now,” the children’s mother said. Her words were rushed and clipped. Her brow pulled fiercely. “They were so much worse this morning, so we headed out straight off. It took a couple hours to get here.”
Dr. Jones nodded. “I’m glad you came.”
“And we’re glad you’re here,” the man said. “Before you came, we were on our own.”
“I’m afraid for them, Doc,” their mother said.
“I’ll do all I can, Flora.”
Dr. Jones continued his examination. He asked questions: how often had they been sick of late, what were they eating and drinking, was anyone else living near them feeling poorly? Lorenzo answered most of the questions, while Flora grew more distressed. Sophie put an arm around the woman, hoping to offer some silent reassurance.
“I can help,” Aidan said. “Tell me what you need, Dr. Jones. I’ve been working on the cabinet and shelves, so I know where lots of things are.”
Dr. Jones took him up on the offer with no hesitation, no insistence that he was too young or too inexperienced. Aidan proved an able assistant, though he did occasionally not know what it was the doctor was asking for. Still, Dr. Jones was patient, and Aidan was not easily ruffled.
After a time, the doctor asked Lorenzo to pick the children up once more. He held one child in each arm, their little heads resting against his shoulders.
Dr. Jones turned to Flora. “Our first aim is getting their fevers down. Then, we need to make certain they have some nourishment. We’ll start with bone broth and move forward from there.”
“Are they in danger?” Flora asked, her voice quivering.
Sophie squeezed her shoulders.
“Now that they’re here, I can do everything possible for them.” Dr. Jones spoke gently but with authority. “Once we bring their fevers down, everything else will improve.”
Flora nodded. She leaned a little bit against Sophie.
Lorenzo, still holding his children in his arms, said, “You tell us what to do, Doc. We’ll do it.”
“Take them upstairs. The second door at the top has an available bed. We’ll tend to them there.”
“Can you give them any powders?” Aidan asked.
