The Doctor's Lady (8 page)

His footsteps padded across the room to the opposite side of the bed.

She pulled the covers up to her neck and held her breath. She waited for the sag of the mattress.

For a long moment, his heavy breathing hovered in the air above her. Then he gave a low groan, backed away, and flopped to the floor.

Her heart picked up its pace, and she sat forward, straining through the darkness to see what he was doing.

From his hefting and the squeak of the floorboards, she had the distinct impression he was making his bed on the floor.

Slowly her breathing resumed, and her heart pattered back to normal. He would keep his bargain after all?

She stared unseeingly at the dark ceiling.

Finally he stopped squirming and silence settled over the room.

She didn’t dare move. Was he peering upward at nothing too?

“Priscilla?”

His whisper made her jump. “Hmm?”

“Is there an extra blanket?”

“Certainly.” She tugged on the quilt until it slid off the bed toward him.

He wriggled for a few moments, situating the blanket around his body.

She held herself rigid until he was quiet again.

Surely he wouldn’t be comfortable on the floor all night. It would be much too drafty and hard. But she wouldn’t dream of inviting him to share the same bed. . . . A proper lady would never do such a thing.

“I’m sorry about the floor,” she whispered. “I hope you’ll be able to fall asleep.”

“Oh, I won’t be able to sleep, and it won’t be because of the floor.”

Heat splashed over her, sending a fresh flush over her skin. Her mind scrambled to find an appropriate answer, but she could think of nothing except the softness of his hands.

“Good night, Priscilla,” he whispered.

Would it be a
good
night? How could she sleep even a minute, knowing a man—her husband—was only a breath away?

For that matter, how would she ever sleep again?

March 1

T
ime to go,” Eli called again. He tugged on the traces already attached to the sleigh. They were as tight and ready to go as he was.

Priscilla dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes and reached to hug yet another person.

He didn’t doubt that half the town had assembled outside the White home to say good-bye to her. Obviously, she felt an obligation to give each and every last person a hug.

At least Dr. Baldwin had donated his old sleigh for the first leg of the journey. And the fresh dusting of snow overnight would aid their speed to Rushville to say good-bye to his family before they retrieved John and Richard, who were staying in Ithaca with supporters while he finished his business.

“What about Priscilla’s books?” Mrs. White draped another blanket across the seat of the sleigh. “She’ll need her books for her teaching once you arrive.”

Eli shook his head and reined in his irritation. “Whatever she needs we’ll have to buy when we get there.” He’d already explained to Mrs. White a dozen times that when they reached Fort Walla Walla in Oregon, they’d be able to take a canoe down the Columbia River to the British trading post of Fort Vancouver. There they’d be able to buy all the supplies they would need to start the mission.

“Miss White, we need to go. We should have left an hour ago.” Would he need to physically pry her away from her family?

She lifted an eyebrow.

One of the younger girls standing near Priscilla chortled. “She’s no longer Miss White. She’s your wife, Mrs. Ernest.”

Priscilla’s brow inched higher.

How could he forget? Especially after spending an entire sleepless night in the same bedroom with her, listening to her soft sighs and her shifting between the sheets. If that wasn’t torture, he didn’t know what was. No matter what he’d tried to think about, he hadn’t been able to wipe away the image of her standing in her nightgown, the flush in her cheeks, the swirls of golden hair, and the graceful curves of her body.

From the dark circles under her eyes, he figured she hadn’t gotten much sleep either.

“Mrs. Ernest.” The words slipped off his tongue, and he made a slow perusal of her new traveling dress, simpler than what she’d worn previously but still fancier than she’d need in the West.

“My dearest wife.” He crooked his finger at her. “If you don’t make your way to the sleigh, you’ll force me to pick you up and carry you here.”

“There’s no need for such impatience, Dr. Ernest. After all, who knows when I’ll see all my beloved friends and family again.” She lifted her chin. “Certainly you cannot begrudge me a few last moments with them.”

With defiance in her eyes, she turned and embraced the young pregnant woman standing in front of her. “You and Reverend Lull will come west eventually and join us, won’t you, Mary Ann?”

He started toward her.

Mary Ann stopped her reply midsentence and stared at him.

Priscilla glanced over her shoulder and her eyes rounded. Before she could move, he swooped her off her feet into his arms.

“What do you think you’re doing—?”

He juggled her weight and hefted her against his chest. “Just speeding things up.”

She sucked in a breath and wound her arms around his neck. The graceful curves of her body were every bit as soft and delicate as they looked, and he dragged in his own breath.

She peeked at the crowd. Her lashes fell and a rosy blush graced her cheeks. “Please put me down,” she murmured. “You’re causing a scene.”

“I like causing scenes.”

“Dr. Ernest, please.”

He grinned and strode toward the sleigh, his boots crunching in the frozen slush. “Besides, a man has a right to hold his bride, doesn’t he?”

“Not like this. Not in public. It’s uncivilized.”

“Who said I’m civilized?”

“I just want to say good-bye.” Her lips wavered with her attempt at a smile. “This is perhaps the very last time I’ll ever speak with or see many of these people.”

His footsteps slowed. The sorrow in her eyes reached inside him and yanked on his heart. What would it be like to leave a home and a family that truly cared? He couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“I’m sorry I have to rush you. Really I am.” He reached the sleigh and lowered her onto the stack of blankets Mrs. White had assembled for the cold drive. “But dragging out the good-byes isn’t going to help.”

She sighed. “I know.”

Mrs. White huffed and elbowed past him. “Dr. Ernest, your behavior is shocking . . . scandalous.”

Priscilla settled her feet on top of the portable foot warmer. The iron box with its various shaped holes was filled with glowing coals and hopefully would help keep her feet warm until they reached their destination for the day.

Mrs. White wrapped a blanket around Priscilla’s legs and feet to hold in the heat. “There is no need for you to require her to hurry this morning when you have already demanded so much.”

“If we could stay longer, we would,” Eli said. “But any delay could put our trip in jeopardy. Not only would I put Priscilla in danger but also Reverend Spalding and his wife.”

“Reverend Spalding?” Priscilla sat up.

“The other couple traveling with us.”

“There was a Reverend Spalding who proposed to Priscilla several years ago.” Mrs. White folded another blanket across Priscilla’s lap. “That was right after we found out—”

“Mother, please . . .”

“Well, it wasn’t meant to be.” Mrs. White patted Priscilla’s knees. “He wasn’t interested in missions the way Priscilla was, and it just wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I’m sure it’s not the same Reverend Spalding,” Priscilla rushed. “So let’s cease speaking of the matter. And we shall be on our way.”

Priscilla lifted her chin and set her face forward.

“Well, if you must leave . . .” Mrs. White reached for Priscilla and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I’m proud of you.”

Priscilla held herself rigid for a moment. Then she crumpled against her mother, and silent tears slid down her cheeks.

Rushville, New York

E
li tugged on the reins until the sleigh came to a halt a safe distance from the tannery.

Next to him, Priscilla stirred.

She’d remained silent on her side of the sleigh until finally she’d succumbed to sleep. It hadn’t taken long for her to sidle next to him for warmth. Eventually, she’d rested her head against his shoulder, and when she’d shivered in her sleep, he’d draped his own blanket across her.

Wisps of her hair had slipped from the hood of her cloak and tickled his cheek. He watched the rise and fall of her breathing, a strange sense of pride stealing through him. His wife—this beautiful, kind lady—his wife. What would his family think of him now?

“We’re here,” he whispered.

With a shudder, she sat up.

She blinked several times and then swung her big eyes upon him. Wide with confusion, their softness reached out and grabbed him, twisting his lungs so he couldn’t breathe.

“Where are we?” She forced the words past chattering teeth. Her stiff fingers groped at the blankets and drew them tighter.

“You’re freezing.” He shot to the edge of the seat, assessing her condition. He’d been an idiot. He’d wanted to make good time and hadn’t bothered to check on her. But just because his big body could withstand the cold didn’t mean her delicate frame would.

His heart dipped with the sudden urgency to get her inside. “I should’ve stopped to refill the warming box.” Inwardly, he berated himself. He flicked the reins and steered the horse toward the cabin where Walt had brought them the day after he’d married Ma.

When Eli halted the sleigh in front of it, Priscilla shifted the blanket over her nose. “The scent is horrible. There must be a tannery nearby.”

He nodded at the sheds across the plot. “My stepfather’s.”

Her gaze swept over the yard, which was littered with broken boards and rusty tools, the lifeless garden full of tall weeds, the shards of crockery cutting through the thin layer of new snow—remnants of the rages that exploded whenever Walt overindulged in his homemade liquor.

Eli could guess what she was thinking. It was a sorry sight. He wasn’t proud of the place or his family. But he’d wanted to say good-bye. . . . It would be the last time. . . .

“Come on.” He reached a hand to Priscilla. “I’ll take you inside, and you can warm up.”

She shifted among the blankets and shook violently. He half lifted her out of the sleigh, steadied her on her feet, and helped her to the door.

With one arm around her, he banged a fist against the warped planks. “Ma, it’s me, Eli.” His muscles tensed like the wires of a trap.

Silence greeted him.

He hesitated a moment, then shoved the door open and stepped inside.

From a rocker in front of the hearth, his ma narrowed her eyes at him through the puff of her pipe smoke. “Who are you and what do you want?” Her gruff voice stretched across the dimly lit room and socked him.

“It’s me, Eli.”

“Eli who?”

“Elijah, your son.”

“I don’t got no son named Elijah.”

He slipped off his hat and gave his ma a wide view of his face. “Yep, Ma. See, it’s me.”

She squinted, shrugged her bony shoulders, and then took a long drag on her pipe.

His stomach caved in. Why had he come? What had ever possessed him to attempt to say good-bye to her, when she’d all but said good-bye to him twenty years ago?

“How are my sisters doing these days? Seen them lately?”

His ma only grunted, and he knew he wouldn’t get any information about his siblings from her. She didn’t care about them anymore either.

Behind him, Priscilla grabbed onto his arm, her shaking so intense she could hardly stand.

“Look,” he said, slapping his hat back on and taking a deep breath of the tangy tobacco fumes, “Priscilla needs a place to warm up. I’m going to leave her here with you by the fire while I go get our boots.”

“Who’s Priscilla?” The squeak of her rocker halted, and she sat forward.

“She’s my wife.”

A tangle of dark hair streaked with gray dangled across the translucent skin of his ma’s face. Everything about her, even her dress, was pale and colorless, like the listless smoke that hung in the air.

Priscilla stepped to his side. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Ernest.”

His ma’s face turned into chiseled stone. “I ain’t been called Mrs. Ernest in more years than I can count.”

Priscilla’s eyes widened with confusion, and her fingers tightened around his bicep. “I didn’t know—I’m very sorry—”

“Missy, you just take your apology and get on out of here.”

“Now, Ma, settle down.”

Priscilla shrank back.

“Well, look who’s showed up.” At Walt’s voice behind them, Eli spun around.

Standing with feet straddled, Walt crossed his thick arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. His apron stretched taut, giving full display of streaks of blood and slimy gristle.

Priscilla shuddered and edged closer to Eli.

Walt’s gaze journeyed over Priscilla and lingered too long.

Eli tugged her against his side. Without resistance, she burrowed into him and rested her trembling hand against his chest.

“And who’s this little beauty?” Walt’s eyes lit with a lust that Eli had seen all too often over the years, only it had been directed at his younger sisters.

“Told you I was getting married.” His grip on Priscilla tightened. “This is my wife.”

Walt pushed away from the doorway and ambled toward them, his attention fixed on Priscilla’s generous bosom.

Eli’s body tensed all the way down to the marrow of his bones. If Walt laid a hand on Priscilla, he’d beat the man to a mass of bloody pulp. Just one touch and he’d have the justification he needed to repay Walt for all those years he’d had to lie in the dark and helplessly listen to Walt’s grunts and his sisters’ whimpers.

Eli’s fingers rounded into a fist. “We got married last night over in Angelica.”

“That so?” Walt came to a halt close enough that they were enveloped by his putrid odor—a mixture of decaying animal flesh and liquor. “I think you’s lying to me.”

Priscilla’s body turned rigid. “I beg your pardon, but Eli is telling the truth about our marriage. We were indeed married the previous eve.”

She held out her hand and flashed her wedding band in front of Walt. “Eli is one of the most honest, straightforward men I’ve ever met. Even if he tried to lie, I doubt he’s capable.”

“Eli’s no saint. Bet he ain’t told you about his pa—”

“Time to go.” Silent fury swelled through Eli’s chest. Walt had no business telling Priscilla the truth about his pa. He propelled her away, past his stepfather, out the door, and toward the sleigh. “Where are the boots, Walt?”

The man guffawed and nodded toward the tannery.

Eli ushered Priscilla up onto the seat and tucked the blanket back around her legs. He’d have been better off buying the boots from a complete stranger.

And he’d have been even better off if he hadn’t attempted to say good-bye to his family at all.