Home by Morning (27 page)

A clucking Mrs. Donaldson walked in just then, bearing a tray of tea and clever little double-layer sandwiches with the crusts cut off. “I’ve brought you a bit of lunch. You probably don’t get many home-cooked meals now, Mr. Jacobsen, since Nettie quit.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Mrs. Donaldson, but I appreciate your kindness. Nettie Stark worked for us for so long, I never dreamed she would side against me in this. Being a shepherd for the Lord’s flock can be a lonely job sometimes.”

Mrs. Donaldson put the tray on a small table between him and Amy, and handed him a plate that held two egg sandwiches and a cup of tea. “Well, don’t you worry, you know you’re welcome here anytime at all. And I’m sure Amy would enjoy your visits.”

Amy adjusted the folds of her woolen shawl. “Oh, I would! I’m afraid I’m not completely recovered just yet, but I know I’ll be back to my old self soon. Mrs. Donaldson takes such good care of me.” She took the teacup the woman put in her hands and stirred two spoons of sugar into the dark amber beverage. “In fact, if I could get a ride to city hall, I’d like to come to the meeting tonight.”

Adam stared at her, surprised. He hadn’t even asked her to sign his petition—that would be more than he could expect. “Are you sure? After all, it’s your sister we’ll be talking about.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Yes, but I can love the sinner without loving the sin, can’t I? Isn’t that what you would teach us, Reverend?”

Heat rose to his face. Even in her wanness, she was still a lovely young woman. “Well, yes, of course. That’s the best way to look at things.”

“Besides, I want Powell Springs to remember that this is my hometown, and even though Jessica has let me down, I still care about the people here.”

“What a generous, courageous woman you are.” He smiled too, and Mrs. Donaldson folded her hands, positively beaming. “I can bring my buggy for you tonight at, say, six thirty? I’ll try not to keep you out too late.”

“More than one good thing might come from this,” Mrs. Donaldson said, still grinning like a matchmaker. “If you really feel you’re up to it, Amy.”

“I think it will do me good to get out. I’ve been cooped up for so long.”

Adam devoured the silly sandwiches and drank his tea, eager to be about his business. “Well, then. I’ll call for you at six thirty. I don’t mean to rush off like this, but I have a couple of important things to attend to before the meeting.” To Laura he said, “Make sure Amy rests up this afternoon.”

Nodding eagerly, she replied, “Oh, yes, I will, I will.”

Amy lifted a limp hand and waved. “I’m so glad you stopped by—Adam.”

He paused, then reached for her hand and kissed it. “Until this evening, then.” Then he walked out into the chilly noon weather.

Emmaline sat on her iron bed and patted the spot beside it. “Come on, Frank. Come and sit beside me.” The influenza epidemic had slowed business to a crawl for the past few weeks, and she hadn’t been able to deposit any money in the bank for her boys. Just earning enough to buy food had been a challenge. Tanner had visited to give her an update about the kids and had told her not to worry about the account. There was enough in it for their care. After he’d gone, she’d even found a five-dollar bill that he’d tucked under the sugar bowl on her table. But she worried anyway. So seeing Frank Meadows again came as a relief, even though she still thought he was a little odd.

Huh, as if all her other customers didn’t have their quirks. Just so they didn’t get too drunk or hurt her, she was willing to put up with almost anything. At least Frank washed.

He smiled and settled next to her, unknotting his tie as the bedsprings sank beneath his weight.

“You haven’t been to see me in a while. How are those tractor sales going?”

“What? Oh.” He shrugged. “Things have been difficult lately. Farmers aren’t much interested in tractors and tillers with their families sick.”

“Yeah, I don’t suppose so. It’s been pretty slow around here, too.”

He turned and reached for her, snaking a hand inside her dressing gown to stroke her breast. Then pushing her back on the thin mattress, he kissed her while wriggling out of his own clothes. He flung them over the high foot of her bed, willy-nilly. Usually he was like a fussy old aunt about folding them. Now she sensed an urgency that she hadn’t noticed in him before, as if something besides lust had brought him up here. It almost bordered on violence.

“Emmaline, it’s been so long,” he said next to her ear. He wasted no time on preliminary groping, but instead entered her with a forceful jab that surprised her.

Like a marionette, Em gave the impression of being involved in this moment, matching her movements to accommodate Frank’s thrusting hips, but in reality, her thoughts were far away. That she could separate herself from the grunting, sweating men who paid for her time and body, she saw as a blessing. Without that ability, she’d probably go crazy. So although she might see over Frank’s shoulder to his white, flexing buttocks, in her mind she stood in the endless green pasture on the farm where she’d grown up. Above her the sky was deep blue, the way she imagined the ocean might look, and a soft June breeze ruffled the grass around her feet as she—

Suddenly, the door to her shanty flew open so hard the doorknob bounced off the wall behind it. Frank jumped, withdrawing from her, his erection shriveling up like a slug that had had salt poured on it. Irrelevantly, she noticed that although naked, he’d kept his socks on.

“Now there you go, Gannon! Didn’t I tell you something rotten was going on up here?”

In the doorway, Emmaline saw that lowdown scoundrel Lambert Bauer. Whit Gannon stood behind him.

“Lambert!” she shrieked, frightened and furious.

Whit, a tall, wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair and a big mustache, looked mortified. His voice boomed up from his chest. “Damn it, Bauer, is this why you dragged me all the way out to Emmaline’s place? You told me she was breaking the law—you made it sound like she murdered someone. Em minds her own business and we let her do it!”

“Well, Jesus Christ, Gannon! She’s my
wife
! That can’t be legal, what she’s doing. Are you gonna stand here and tell me there isn’t some law about whoring or something you can arrest her for? And what about that son of a bitch with her on the bed, his cock hanging out like—” Lambert pulled up short in his tirade and peered at Frank, who scrambled to cover himself. “Hey—hey now, wait just a minute. I know you!”

Whit took a closer look at Frank as well and immediately looked away, embarrassed. “Look, Bauer, I’m not going to pursue this, and if you make any more trouble for this woman, I’m going to lock
you
up for thirty days. This is my jurisdiction and I don’t care what you want to claim. Emmaline is a friend of mine and she doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“She shot at me once! What about that?” Lambert was nearly purple with rage.

“Too bad she missed. You probably had it coming. Besides, I’ve been hearing suspicious talk about you and some jewelry you’ve been using to buy drinks. I think I’ll have to check into where you got it.” Whit grabbed him by the scruff of his skinny neck and pushed him out the door. With a brief, backward glance he said, “Sorry about this, folks. I didn’t realize why Bauer brought me here or I never would have come. Emmaline, you let me know if he pesters you again. I’ll kick his ass all the way to the county line.” He shut the door behind him. There was a sound of scuffling feet just outside, and then the slamming of car doors.

Em’s heart beat like a frightened bird’s, and she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “Oh, God, Frank. I’m so sorry. That Lambert is no good. He never has been.”

But Frank, as pale as milk, was already scurrying back into his clothes. “I’ve got to go, Em.”

“No, please don’t leave. I’m really sorry. I’ll even let you have it on the house. I feel terrible about this!” Beyond the blackberry brambles, she heard the sound of an automobile engine turning over, then the crunching of gravel under the car’s wheels.

Frank had his pants, shoes, and shirt on, half-buttoned and untucked. His tie was looped over one arm, and his jacket hung over the other. If word of this got out, of crazy Lambert Bauer kicking in her door and scaring away her customers, she’d be out of business, and what would happen to the boys? They were all she had in this lousy world, even if she never got to see them.

Frank flung open the door and raced out, not bothering to close it. A moment later, his horse and buggy lurched from her yard at a fast clip.

Emmaline dragged herself up from the bed, and with a hand braced on the doorframe, she watched Frank Meadows’s retreat.

Goddamn that worthless Lambert Bauer. If he’d been even half the man he should have been, her kids would be safe and she wouldn’t have to worry about doing this degrading work.

For the first time in a very long while, she pressed her face against her arm and cried.

Jessica leaned toward the mirror over her bathroom sink to pin up straggling wisps of her hair. This morning, she’d had to meet with Dr. Pearson again at the infirmary to discuss the current cases and turn over her notes to him. In a profession dominated by men, she had experienced her share of haughty disdain, but given the circumstances, his was especially galling. His quiet scorn for everything she showed him about the facility had radiated from him. Nothing, apparently, was up to his standards or expectations.

After they’d toured the infirmary, she had brought him back here to show him the office and upstairs apartment, with its two convenient rooms for patients requiring round-the-clock care, such as typical surgery cases or those too ill to return home immediately. There was no doubt that he found it all to be lacking.

When he left, she’d stomped back upstairs for a moment of calm and to start packing her things, still furious with the insufferable man. These were urgent times, times that called for cooperation and the willingness to work toward the common goal of saving lives. Egos and prejudices only hampered those efforts. No, the high school gym wasn’t Bellevue Hospital, but they had to make due with the facilities and equipment available.

Walking out into the parlor, she looked around and knew this place, including the office below, would belong to him as soon as she could move out. His name was even on the sign that swung from its iron bracket on the front of the building.

Downstairs, she heard the doorknob rattle and her heart lurched. She had taken to locking the front door at all times now. Images of Adam Jacobsen, his eyes alight with a hateful gleam, or more harassment from his followers crossed her mind. Even people who did not agree with him felt compelled to whisper when they talked about him, for fear of bringing down the tyranny of the American Protective League on their heads. Earlier, Leroy Fenton’s delivery boy had brought her another telegram from the hospital in Seattle, asking about her status.

Now a knock sounded.

Jess crept to the landing, but she couldn’t see who stood on the other side of the glass from up here.

Another knock. “Jessica?” She recognized Cole’s voice and released the breath she’d held, then hurried down the steps. “Coming, Cole!” When she reached the bottom stair, she rushed across the entry to fling open the door. Seeing him there, tall and broad-shouldered, the silver badge pinned to his jacket and a gun belt slung low on his hips, she felt safer. He represented the only security she knew these days. She stepped aside to let him in. He kissed her once on the mouth and then on both cheeks. It was such an affectionate, endearing gesture, she felt her throat constrict with emotion.

“Have you had any more trouble?” he asked.

“No, but I don’t feel like I can leave the door unlocked now.”

He nodded. “It’s probably just as well that you keep it bolted. I went by the high school, but Granny Mae said you came back here. Pearson looked overwhelmed.”

Jessica rolled her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know how well
he’s
going to work out. I’m not sure Powell Springs, even at its worst, deserves him.” She nodded toward the back room where coffee was perking on the hotplate.

He followed her and settled in one of the chairs, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Why?”

She checked the progress of the coffee on the work table and swept some stray grounds into her palm that she’d scattered. Dumping them into a wastepaper basket, she brushed her hands. “Aside from the fact that he’s condescending and insulting, and doesn’t approve of female doctors, I got the feeling that he’s going to be a real fish out of water here. He’s rather upper crust, from New England, and pretty full of himself. At least that was how it seemed to me.”

“Hmm, that should make tonight interesting.”

“What’s happening tonight?”

“Adam Jacobsen has called for a town meeting at city hall. He wants to formally welcome Pearson and, well…” He looked away for an instant.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “To run me out of town.”

He tipped his chair back on its two rear legs. “I didn’t hear it put quite that way. But my head’s on the chopping block, too. He wants Whit Gannon to take my badge. At least that was what I heard this morning. Hell, he can have the damned thing. It’s not like I don’t have enough to do.”

She threw up her hands. “So Horace Cookson is allowing this even though the influenza is still active and large gatherings have been banned?”

“Horace isn’t the same man he was before his wife and son died. I know how he feels.”

Jess dropped her hands and let her stiff shoulders relax a little. “Are you going to attend this meeting?”

“Yes, and I think you should too.”

Her mouth popped open. “To deliver myself to Adam and his henchmen so they can stone me in the public square without having to come looking for me? Thank you, but no.” She turned to the coffee pot and poured two cups, fixing his the way she remembered he liked it.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. You should face him down. He’s one man, and a lousy one at that. The reason he has so much power over people is because no one has taken it away from him. You were born and raised here, too.”

“I’ve done the job I promised to do. I filled in until Pearson arrived. Powell Springs has a doctor again and my work is finished.”

He let the chair fall back into place and stood to take the cup she offered. “So you won’t come tonight?”

She leaned a hip against the work table and sipped her own coffee. “You saw the mentality of those people outside who broke the window. It’s not hard for me to imagine that ‘meeting’ turning into a kangaroo court. Next thing you know, they’ll be dunking me in Powell Creek.”

He gazed at her for a long minute. In the quiet, she could hear his leather belt creak with his breathing. “I know you have more faith in Powell Springs than that. You’ve always been a fighter, Jess.”

“Maybe. But there are so
many
battles, and I don’t want take on every one of them anymore. Some are just too hard to bear.” At this moment, she felt almost as defeated as she had when she’d left the East.

He nodded finally, as if he understood what she meant. Reaching out, he tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. His touch made goose bumps rise on her arms. “Then I’ll fight it for you. I’ve lost too much lately to just give up, and I’m not going to stand by and let those sanctimonious hypocrites tear down either of us.”

Impulsively, she pressed a quick, hard kiss to his mouth. “I hope you win.”

At six forty-five, most of Powell Springs’s citizens who were well enough to attend filled the council room at city hall and spilled out into the corridor. Even Virgil Tilly had closed his place to come to the event. Roland Bright and Horace Cookson scrambled to find every chair in the building, but a lot of people were still left standing.

Susannah and Tanner accompanied Cole, and in a move that both surprised and pleased him, so did Pop. “I’m not gonna have people like Jacobsen and Leonard tarnish our family name. They’ve got a hell of a nerve, especially Jacobsen. I remember he couldn’t even say ‘mama’ until he was six years old, and he hasn’t quit yapping since.” This was the most energy the old man had shown since that telegram came. After they learned of Riley’s death and Amy’s treachery, a lot of the bluster had drained out of Pop. Even trips to the saloon had lost their allure for him.

Cole acted as a spearhead to cut his way through the group, bringing his family close to the front of the room where they could all see the proceedings and hear what was being said. He felt the eyes of others on them and noticed heads bending to whisper as they passed. Looking around, he saw people he’d known all of his life, people he’d done business with, those whose weddings he’d attended and had even shared drinks with at Tilly’s. He was counting on that. Maybe they would remember him instead of the man who had come here to destroy his character and attack Jessica and his family.

On one side of the room, James Leonard moved from person to person, papers and pencil in hand, gathering signatures, Cole assumed, for his petition. On the other side, Adam Jacobsen did the same. As seven o’clock drew near, he stopped to talk to a woman who was seated close to the front.

“Oh, good heavens!” Susannah whispered, and pointed discreetly to her left. All four of them turned to look and saw Amy Layton sitting down the row, wearing a shawl and the prim, long-suffering expression of someone who had been grievously wronged. With grave solicitousness, Adam took her hand and bent to speak to her. What now appeared to be Amy’s true motive in befriending Susannah had been very hard on the widow. Cole knew she felt almost as betrayed as he did. She had believed that Jessica’s sister genuinely cared about her, but she’d heard not a single word from her. Not even after she’d been strong enough to go back to Mrs. Donaldson’s had she sent a letter of condolence about Riley.

After some preliminary shuffling of chairs and whispering, the three town councilmen took their seats at the long meeting table. Birdeen Lyons sat at a small desk to their right in her role as recording secretary. It was already hot and stuffy in the room, and the random cough was still enough to make a few people turn suspicious eyes on the possible germ carriers. Some still wore their influenza masks, but many others had abandoned them.

Mayor Cookson rapped his gavel, bringing quiet to the room. “All right, let’s get this meeting underway. I’d like to take a moment to welcome Dr. Fred Pearson to Powell Springs. I think most of us will agree that we’re happy to see him after so many months.”

Polite applause rippled through the group, and people craned their necks for a glimpse of the doctor they’d waited so long to meet. Pearson stood and bowed in all directions, but not even a suggestion of a smile crossed his stern-looking face. “That would be
Frederick
Pearson.”

In a town where dress clothing was worn only to church, weddings, and funerals, his expensive suit stood out among the bib overalls and everyday broadcloth and denim.

Adam, looking harassed, dropped some papers and hurried to put them back together. With a glance in Amy’s direction, he smoothed his tie and spoke up. “I’m sure Dr. Pearson will be an asset to this community for years to come. I, for one, have sent prayers to God to thank him for sending us this doctor with such fine credentials, and high principles and ideals.” This was followed by more applause.

Beside Cole, Pop snorted. “How does he know that?” he whispered.

“Gentlemen,” Pearson began, still standing. “I do appreciate your generous compliments and observations of my character. They are most gratifying. And I am sorry to disabuse you of my tenure in Powell Springs, perhaps more sorry than you were to give me a false impression of what this town would be like.”

The applause died away to a puzzled silence. Dr. Pearson continued.

“However, now that I have had an opportunity to tour your village, it is obvious to me that Powell Springs’s merits were grossly overstated in my correspondence with this distinguished body.” He nodded toward the three men sitting at the council table, and his sarcasm was hard to miss. “I would not go so far as to say that I was purposely duped, but clearly the town has a far more cosmopolitan view of itself than is warranted.”

People began sputtering with outrage—at least those who could follow Pearson’s high-flown speech and flat New England accent. The rest just knew they were being insulted somehow. Cole ducked his head to hide a laugh.

“Exactly what are you saying, Doctor?” Adam demanded.

“What I am saying is that I expected to assume a large city practice with adequate facilities. Nothing I have seen here remotely meets that criteria. There is no hospital, no satisfactory clinic—I suspect that I might even be called upon to deliver a calf or diagnose a colicky sheep. That is, if your folk herbalist isn’t too busy making up asafetida charms and running her café. In short, gentlemen”—he turned to face the group—“and ladies, I will stay here only as long as it takes me to find a more promising position in another city. Surely, you can understand that a Yale-educated physician would not want to remain in a place where his skills would not be properly utilized or appreciated.” He smiled at last, a most candid smile. “If you will excuse me, I have patients waiting for me in the gymnasium.”

He strode out of the room, head up, as arrogant and self-important as a king who had descended from his mountaintop castle to mingle, however unpleasantly, with the great unwashed of his serfdom.

The stunned room flared with a roar of angry voices.

“He’d better sleep with a gun under his pillow tonight,” someone barked, and Cole was inclined to agree.

“Have you ever heard the like?”

“Who the hell does that man think he is? Yale—where is that, anyway?”

“If he thinks I’d let him touch a sheep of mine, he’s got rocks in his head!”

Weary Horace Cookson stood and banged his gavel repeatedly, calling for order with increasing volume. After three or four minutes, he finally managed to break through the din.