Child of Promise (7 page)

“But I can’t support myself for long on the fees generated by one patient a day!”

Doc had stepped into her office as she was restocking her cabinet. He came around to sit at her desk. Beth shot him a frustrated look over her shoulder, then turned back to her task.

“At the very least, I’ve room and board to pay. And I’m not bringing much money into the practice, either!”

“I know. That’s not a concern of mine, though. I knew it’d take a while. I can meet your basic expenses for the time being. Besides, I’m willing to bet Millie and Noah will give you time, too. One more mouth to feed won’t break them, either.”

“That’s not the point.” Beth could feel her voice going tight, her anger rising. “I have my pride, and I won’t accept charity. If I can’t pay my bills . . . well, I guess I’ll have to move back in with my parents!”

Doc chuckled. “Land sakes, my dear. Don’t make that sound like a fate worse than death. From what I hear, Conor and Abby would be tickled pink to have you back home to stay.”

Beth sighed in exasperation, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “What else can I do, Doc? I’m about willing to start treating livestock if that’s what it takes.”

“If you feel a calling to that, I suppose helping out some of the ranchers and farmers with their animals couldn’t hurt. Once they’d a chance to see you in action . . .”

She opened her eyes and glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

It was Doc’s turn to sigh. “Okay, it was just an idea.” He lowered his gaze. “Have you taken any of the patients up on coming to supper? And besides attending Sunday services, have you gotten out and socialized? That’s another way to build relationships and keep yourself foremost in people’s minds.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.” Beth clamped her lips. “It’s best to maintain a certain professional distance.”

Doc gave a snort of disgust. “I can’t believe I’m hearing that from you, Beth MacKay! You’ve grown up here. A lot of these people knew you since you were a child. And this isn’t some big, impersonal city where you rarely run into your patients. It also isn’t some place you plan to stay for a few years, then move on. You’ve got to build trust, and that takes a while. You’ve got to build lifetime relationships.”

Beth went back to stocking bandages in her cabinet. “I find I do my best work when I keep myself a bit removed from my patients. Emotions can cloud judgment and good diagnosis. Maybe in time, when I’ve had more experience .  . .”

“Pshaw!” Doc slammed his fist so hard on the desk it made Beth jump. “That’s the biggest load of hogwash I’ve ever heard, and from a physician, no less. What are they teaching in medical school nowadays?”

“A whole lot more than when you went, I’d say!” She wheeled around, her hands fisted on her hips.

Doc stared up at her. “Seems to me when you forget you’re taking care of a human being with needs, fears, hopes, and dreams, you might as well stop calling yourself a doctor. We’re called to care for the whole person, not just his or her symptoms and medical data. And if we don’t, in the course of our treatment, also touch their hearts, then we haven’t done our job.”

“I’m an excellent doctor. I graduated at the top of my class.”

“In the end, the patients decide who the good doctors are and who’re the bad. You can’t fool them for long.”

Tears stung Beth’s eyes. She blinked them away. She hadn’t cried during all those years in medical school or during her internship. Why was she so near weeping now?

“So you’re saying I’m not a good doctor because the patients don’t like me. Is that it?”

A sad, solemn look darkened his eyes. “No, Beth. I’m not saying you aren’t a good doctor. I’m just saying you still have some things to learn to be an excellent doctor.”

“Well, you’ll forgive me if I don’t care to give your words much credence. I know how to build rapport with patients. I listen to them. In the end, though, it’s my education, my knowledge, that they’ve come for. And it’s my professional responsibility to use it the best way I know how.”

“Suit yourself.” Doc rose from behind the desk. “I’ve worked long enough with you now to know your medical judgment is next to faultless, your treatments right on the money. I can live with your style of patient care if you can. But you asked for my input, and I gave it.”

I’ve gone and started another fight, Beth thought in frustration. Will I never learn?

“I’m sorry if I got a little defensive there.” She managed a conciliatory smile. “I guess I’m still finding my way, still searching for my own ‘style’ as you called it. But I’ll give your words consideration. I promise.”

“Beth, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but it seems to me you’ve got some things . . . some personal pain . . . that’s getting in the way here. If you ever want to talk . . .”

Once more the tears welled; she was on the verge of spilling her guts, but this wasn’t the time or place. She was a professional, after all.

She wheeled around to hide the traitorous tears. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” She made a great show of checking her watch. “Will you look at that? Time for lunch.”

Taking great care not to let Doc see her face, she hurried to her desk and picked up her hat and pocketbook. “Mind if I take an extra hour off? I don’t have any appointments this afternoon, and Millie could probably use the help.”

“Take the whole afternoon off if you want. I can manage, and if there’s some emergency, it’ll be easy enough to ring you up at the rectory.”

Beth nodded curtly, then all but fled for the door. “Thank you. I’ll do that then.”

Noah shrugged on his coat and grabbed his hat from the coatrack. As he did, a knock sounded at the door. He left the hat where it was hanging and opened the door.

Conor MacKay stood there.

“Come on in,” Noah said, smiling in greeting. “If you’ve come to see Beth, though, she isn’t here. You’d do better to head to the clinic.”

“I didn’t come to see Beth,” Culdee Creek’s owner muttered as he doffed his Stetson and walked in. “I came to see you, if you’ve got a few minutes to spare.”

“I’ve always got time for an old friend. I was just getting ready to pay George Wilson a call, but it can wait a while longer.” Noah closed the door behind Conor. “Where would you like to talk? Would the kitchen suit, or do you prefer my office? If it’s the kitchen, I’m thinking Millie’s still got a piece left of her famous apple pie, and the coffee’s always hot.”

Conor shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m not much in the mood for food, and I’ve already drunk more coffee this morning than Abby likes me to have in a day.” He used his hat to point in the direction of the kitchen. “We can sit in there, though.”

Noah paused to remove his jacket and hang it back on the coatrack, then followed Conor into the kitchen. He took a seat across from his friend, leaned his forearms on the table, and waited.

Conor wasn’t long in getting to the point. “It’s Beth. Abby and I are concerned about her.”

Noah wasn’t surprised. If he had so quickly ascertained Beth harbored some secret pain, her parents would’ve surely noticed it even earlier.

“What’s bothering you? About Beth, I mean?”

“Well, she came home as thin as a rail, and that’s not like her. Then, though she stayed a week at the ranch, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling she couldn’t wait to get away from us. And the day Beth told Abby she was moving in with you, Beth let slip she’d been through some pretty rough times in medical school. Times she felt she didn’t dare tell us about, for fear we would’ve gone out there and brought her home.”

“Which you would’ve, wouldn’t you, Conor, if you’d thought anyone was threatening your little girl?”

Culdee Creek’s owner smiled thinly. “Yes, I reckon I would’ve.”

“And Beth’s got your pride and determination. Can you blame her for not telling you all that was going on?”

“No, I can’t blame her, but what did it cost her, Noah? What happened to her?”

Noah leaned back and sighed. “I can’t say, Conor. But you know if Beth ever comes to me with the truth, I’ll do my best to help her.”

“I know. That’s why I thought I’d better tell you this. So you could keep an eye out for her.” He paused, scratched his jaw, and eyed Noah consideringly. “I’ve never told you much about Beth’s past, have I? I mean, not much more anyway, than she was born out of wedlock when I hired on Squirrel Woman to take care of Evan after his mother ran off with that music teacher of hers?”

“That’s pretty much it,” Noah said. “That and Beth and Abby didn’t hit it off well when Abby first came to Culdee Creek to be your housekeeper and Beth’s teacher.”

“Well, there’s more, and it might have a lot to do with Beth’s pain right now.” He glanced over at the stove. “Maybe I will take you up on that cup of coffee after all.”

Noah scraped back his chair, rose, and headed for the cupboard. After grabbing a mug, he walked to the stove and poured out another cup of coffee. “Go on,” he then urged his friend as he placed the mug before him and again took his seat. “What else happened to Beth that I don’t know about?”

“Well, after Squirrel Woman died of smallpox when Beth was two years old, I ran through a passel of housekeepers.” He smiled wryly. “Seems I wasn’t the most pleasant of people to be around in those days. Then when Beth was seven, a woman named Maudie came to work for me. She was young, pretty, and wanted something. That something turned out to be me. When she finally realized I’d no intention ever of wedding her, she devised a scheme to win my heart through my daughter.”

Conor grimaced. “Maudie treated her so sugar sweet, even I began to suspect something. I finally had to send the woman away. She knew, though, there was only one sure way to punish me for rejecting her, and she used Beth to do it.”

Noah could feel his blood run cold. “She used a seven-year-old girl to get back at her father?”

Conor nodded slowly. “Maudie took Beth to school that last day she worked for me, claiming she just wanted a chance for a final good-bye. Once there, though, Maudie somehow managed to slip into the schoolhouse while the children and their teacher were outside at recess. She stole the big gold pocket watch Sullivan—the teacher—always kept on his desk. Beth, of course, was the one accused of taking it.”

“Did Beth see Maudie take the watch?”

“Yes, but I didn’t find that out until much later.” Conor dragged in an unsteady breath. “Her teacher made her stand before the whole class while he called her a bastard and half-breed little thief. He beat her across her knuckles until they bled. And, when even that didn’t extract the answers he wanted, Sullivan locked her in a small, dark storage closet next to the woodstove. He left her there for six hours, the stove burning hot all the while, until I came to fetch her.

“By the time I carried her out of the closet, Beth was half dead from the heat and lack of water. And when I got her home, she wouldn’t talk for five months.”

Noah’s heart clenched at the sudden swell of pain. It explained so much about Beth’s prickly pride and what seemed to be an underlying sense of rejection and unworthiness. Though he knew Conor loved her with all his heart, she would always be his illegitimate, half-breed Indian daughter. Perhaps somewhere, in some deep, hidden place, that realization still hurt Beth. It also made her vulnerable to the cruelty of others. Cruelty she had most obviously suffered during medical school.

Noah took a swallow of his coffee, then met his friend’s tormented gaze. “It helps knowing that. Helps a lot.”

Conor’s mouth quirked sadly. “I don’t like talking about that time in Beth’s life. Especially knowing it was all my fault. But I thought you should know, in case Beth ever mentions it.” He sighed. “Much as I hate to admit it, my little girl’s all grown up and I can’t protect her anymore. Fact is, she might not even like coming to me with all her problems.”

“I can’t promise Beth’ll come to me, either.”

“No, she might not. But just in case, I wanted you to know.” Conor rose. “I hope it is you, though. You’ll know how to handle it.”

Will I? Noah thought. There were times he wondered how effective he was anymore. It was hard to help others when your whole life—and all it had ever stood for—seemed to be crumbling before your eyes. Still, he had to keep on trying, hoping that sooner or later all would be made clear.

Noah rose to his feet. “As I said before, I’ll do my best for her. You know that.”

Conor MacKay nodded. “Yes, I know.”

7

We are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.

2 Corinthians 4:8–9

Once she was out in the crisp October sunshine, Beth didn’t head straight for the rectory. As upset as she was, just one concerned, caring comment from Millie and she was sure to break down and bawl her eyes out. No, it was best to keep to herself until she could regain control. A good, brisk walk would do her a world of good.

Beth strode down the boardwalk along Main Street. A few riders passed by—a farm wagon full of potatoes fresh from the fields and the town fire truck out for a spin, filled with what looked to be the entire elementary school. They waved and called out to her and everyone else who looked their way.

She managed a halfhearted wave and smile; most of the children didn’t know her anyway. Then Doc’s words came back to her.
This isn’t some big, impersonal city where you rarely run into your patients. .
 
.
 
. You’ve got to build trust. .
 
.
 
. You’ve got to build lifetime relationships. .
 
.
 
. And if we don’t .
 
.
 
. also touch their hearts, then we haven’t done our job.

Touch hearts .
 
.
 
.
Beth shook her head in irritation. Why was everyone so bent on getting involved in everyone else’s life? Were they blind to the potential pain of rejection? She, on the other hand, had learned her lesson early and well: Don’t open your heart to strangers, or they’d sooner or later use and abuse it. People weren’t to be trusted. Neither, it seemed, Beth added bitterly, was God.

Well, leastwise, not most people. Beth knew she could trust her family. And she supposed Millie and Noah would never knowingly do anything to hurt her. Still, Noah had hurt her when he had wed Alice, even if he hadn’t done it on purpose. The pain of that was all over now, though. And as long as he never learned the truth about her and Matthew . . .

“Hello! Where are you going at such a fast and furious pace?”

Beth lurched to a halt. In the street next to her, a black buggy slowed to a stop. Noah sat in the two-seater, dressed in his hat and clerical garb.

Beth glanced around. She had walked past Gates’s Mercantile and was almost to Mr. Herring’s house at the edge of town. She grinned sheepishly.

“Guess I was so engrossed in my thoughts, I lost track of where I was headed.”

Noah patted the empty seat beside him. “Well, jump in. I was just heading home after paying George Wilson a visit, and as I turned back down Main Street, I saw you.”

“No, thanks.” Beth shook her head. “I’ve got some thinking to do. I’m not ready to head home yet.”

“Well, a nice, relaxing ride out into the country would do me a world of good, too. And I promise not to talk, if you’re not of a mind for talking.”

Beth thought on his offer for a moment, then nodded. Why not? “Okay, but only if you promise not to ask any questions.”

Noah grinned. “I promise. If you don’t want to talk, we won’t. Now, climb on in, m’lady.”

Beth did just that.

They rode along in silence for a time. Though the breeze was cool, the sun was warm. Beth found herself gradually relaxing and even reveling in the sight of the scenery around them.

To their right, the hills smoothed southward into low, undulating masses, the rich, dark soil easing to sand. Frost-browned prairie grass parted before the ever-churning onslaught of the buggy’s steel-spoked wheels. North of them, pine-tree-studded bluffs rose from the land, stark sentinels of the rolling hills.

A lone red-tailed hawk soared overhead on the blustery currents. Occasionally a brown ground squirrel, his long, sleek tail flitting behind him, darted from some tunnel in the earth. But other than those creatures and the ever-present pronghorns, little else was stirring today.

Beth exhaled a long, deep breath, leaned back against the buggy’s padded seat, and sighed. This was her home, the land she knew and loved through all its vagaries of season and weather. It played no games, bore no secret agendas, and treated all the same, no matter the race, creed, or gender. Out on these high, windswept plains, the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains rising behind her in the distance, Beth felt whole, at peace, safe.

She felt safe with Noah, too. He had always accepted her, respected her, and made her feel loved and worthwhile. Well, Beth amended quickly, not quite as loved as she had wished he would love her, when she had finally grown into young womanhood, but that hadn’t been his fault. To the best of his ability, Noah had always been honest with her. That was better than most men had treated her ever since.

She shot him a sideways glance. He smiled as he drove along, his gaze riveted straight ahead, one foot braced against the front panel, his arm resting on his slightly raised leg. The lines of tension that so frequently tightened his face had softened a bit. He appeared to be enjoying this ride as much as she. Did he, as well, enjoy her presence as much as she was enjoying his?

With a grimace of disgust, Beth flung that foolish question aside. It was beginning to border on the ridiculous how often and easily her mind turned to romantic notions, notions she had long ago rejected. Medicine was her only love, her life–long calling.

But even that wasn’t going well. Doc had all but told her she was an inadequate physician. Though for entirely different reasons, his comments cut as deeply as had those of her fellow medical students and instructors during the years of her training. Would she never measure up in the eyes of her male colleagues?

Beth told herself that it shouldn’t matter what others thought, that it only mattered what she thought. Yet peace and self-acceptance eluded her, and she couldn’t understand why.

Does Noah, Beth wondered, ever encounter such questions in his own life? She supposed he had all he needed in God and the Bible. But Noah had suffered greatly when he lost Alice. He’d continue to suffer, too, all the days of Emily’s life, knowing she’d never be able to run and play like other children or even live an independent life. How, indeed, did his faith sustain him anymore?

Beth had seen too much needless pain and suffering, had encountered too much cruelty and hypocrisy, to believe in a merciful God. How could Noah continue to believe?

She turned to him. “Would you mind if I asked . . . asked a rather personal question?”

A smile quirked the corner of Noah’s mouth. “Depends. If I answer it, do I get to ask you one in turn?”

Beth thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Never mind. I withdraw my question. It’s not fair for me to ask you and not be willing to have you do the same. And I’m not.”

“Oh, Beth.” Noah sighed. “What happened to you back East to change you from that trusting, open, happy girl you used to be? None of us here purposely have done anything to hurt you, yet your fear of us is all but palpable.”

Beth didn’t know how to answer without sharing more than she cared to reveal. She looked away, all the old, angry emotions rising again. “I told you. I withdraw my question. Can we let it go at that?”

“What’s your question, Beth?” he asked softly, gently. “Ask me anything, and I’ll answer you the best I know how.”

“No.” Fiercely, she shook her head. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fairness has nothing to do with it. You’re hurting. I can see that. You’re suspicious and afraid. Well, if it takes me baring my soul to break down those walls of yours, then I’m willing to risk it.”

“Why?” She turned back to Noah, tears of confusion blurring her vision. She furiously blinked them away. “Why would you do that?”

“Why else?” His brown eyes shone with love. “Because maybe, just maybe, if I take the first step toward you, then you’ll someday take one back to me. Back to me and all the people who’ve always loved you.”

She looked down, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “It was nothing really anyway. My question, I mean. I was just thinking about all you’d suffered in losing Alice, then what’s happened to Emily. And I wondered how you keep your faith so strong.”

With a tug on the reins, Noah halted the buggy. He wrapped the lines around the brake arm, then turned in the seat to face her.

“What makes you think my faith is particularly strong right now?”

Beth stared at him. “You’re still a priest, aren’t you? You’re still here, serving your congregation, going about your work every day.”

He smiled sadly. “Sometimes you go on in spite of yourself. Because people need you. Because you hope with all your might that sooner or later the darkness will lift and the Lord will be there right where He has always been all along. When you lose faith, you go on out of sheer, stubborn determination and a lot of hope.”

“If God has deserted you, one of His most faithful servants,” Beth said grimly, “then He’s not a God I care to serve.”

“Ah, Beth, I don’t really think God’s deserted me.”

Noah scooted close and took her hands. He looked into her eyes, and Beth saw his anguish—and his conviction.

“Well, leastwise not in my mind anyway,” he admitted. “In my heart, though . . .” He shook his head with a savage intensity. “It doesn’t matter. Great and holy feelings are wonderful gifts from God, but there are still times when you just have to hang on with all your might. And that’s what I’m doing—holding on with all my might and putting my trust in the Lord.”

She could see the pain, the torment Noah was in. But she could see his courage, too. His sheer, stubborn trust and love for a God who she wasn’t so sure could ever be deserving of him.

“You’ve held on for two years like this, haven’t you?” Beth released a slow, deep breath. “I admire that in you, Noah. I truly do.”

“And your admiration’s deeply appreciated,” he said with a wry chuckle. “It’s been a lonely road, to be sure. It’s not like I can share this with most people. Folk don’t like to know their pastor’s in such dire straits.”

“Well, they won’t be hearing it from me.” Beth cocked her head. “Have you thought about marrying again? That might help in so many ways. You’d have someone to share your doubts and fears with. You’d have someone to help you with Emily, be a mother to her, and . . . well, you’d have a wife,” she finished lamely.

Noah looked away. “No. I don’t want to remarry.”

She opened her mouth to ask him why, then clamped it shut. She had pried enough.

“You’ll accept friendship, though, won’t you? Because if you will, I’d like to offer you mine,” Beth said, wondering even as she did if, when it came to Noah Starr, friendship in itself wasn’t a pitfall-ridden country.

Noah turned back then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course I’ll accept friendship, especially yours. Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”

For a long moment, silence fell between them, and they sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. And, as they sat there, a fierce, sweet joy warred with a growing uncertainty in Beth. It—this—was yet more uncharted territory. She must not forget he had hurt her before and could well do so again. To be Noah’s friend, his confidante, perhaps even his special solace when there was none to be found elsewhere was taking a big chance.

As they remained there, though, something changed between them. The light in Noah’s eyes flared; his grip on her hands tightened. Beth’s heart commenced a rapid beating.

Just then, the horse’s head flew up. The animal gave a snort of surprise and lurched forward.

Noah released Beth’s hands and grabbed at the reins. Before the horse could take two steps, he had the animal back under control. He pulled it to a halt.

“Well, so much for my problems,” he said, grinning at her. “Anything you’d care to share about yours?”

Her hands still gripping the carriage for support, Beth stared back. “Me? No, not really. After hearing what you had to say, I’m thinking my problems aren’t all that serious.” She shrugged surprised at the sudden wave of relief that swamped her. “Nothing, at any rate, that a little time and effort won’t put right.”

“Then I helped you anyway, didn’t I?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I guess you did.” Beth shot him a narrowed glance. “You’re a sly one, that you are, Noah Starr.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been called that a time or two, but really, it’s just the healing that comes from two people talking and finding understanding in each other. Knowing they’re not alone or so very different.” As if a sudden idea had struck him, Noah paused. “And you know something else, Doctor?”

“What’s that?”

“You’re pretty sly yourself. In getting me to talk about myself, you’ve helped me. I don’t feel quite so sad or hopeless anymore.”

Happiness welled and spilled over within her. “Really, Noah? I helped you?”

“Yes, Beth,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “You did.”