The Heirloom Brides Collection (47 page)

Thinking of the more pleasant ones, she’d not been to check on Mr. Zanzucchi since Tuesday. And the day before yesterday felt like a long time ago.

Fifteen minutes later, Darla crossed Bennett Avenue and stepped onto the curb in front of Pfeiffer’s Haberdashery. Zachary wasn’t married. One question remained: Had he waited for her?

She took one pace toward the door, then stopped.

She’d told Hattie she’d changed and indicated to Mr. Zanzucchi that she’d changed. Pursuing Zachary and tracking him down at his father’s store would signify otherwise. Yes, she and Zachary had once cared for each other and he wasn’t yet married, but those no longer seemed good enough reasons for her to pursue him.

Swinging the medical bag at her side, she walked up Third Street, away from her past and toward a destiny of her own making. Her future as a healer. If she was meant to reunite with Zachary, if there was still something between them, it would happen without her being the one to take the initiative.

Darla hadn’t yet set her foot on the stoop when the door on the Zanzucchis’ tidy company house swung open. Three brown-eyed girls in cotton dresses and simple shawls stood on the threshold looking up at her with expressions of… what was it? Relief, perhaps?

“Good morning, girls.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Miss Taggart.” Jocelyn reached for Darla’s hand.

Jaya rocked on her heels. “Me, too.”

“And me.” Julia’s smile revealed a gap in her teeth. She’d lost a baby tooth since the visit on Tuesday.

The girls had been friendly all along, but today they seemed a little too anxious for her visit. “Is something wrong?” Darla followed Jocelyn inside, banging her bag against the doorframe. Mr. Zanzucchi lay on the cot, his head supported by his right arm. He didn’t seem in distress in the least.

“He’s better now, but Tuesday—”

“After I left?”

He nodded. “I’m fine now.”

“What happened?” Darla set her bag on the chair beside the cot, then shed her gloves and tucked them into a pocket on her mantle. After handing it to Jocelyn, who stood waiting, she returned her attention to her patient. “Perhaps that’s the wrong question, Mr. Zanzucchi. What did you do?”

“He peeled potatoes.” Jaya raised both palms.

The matter-of-fact innocence in the child’s statement tickled Darla, and she couldn’t help but grin.

Jocelyn draped Darla’s mantle on the peg by the door. “He was up too long.”

“Papa was stuck there.” Jaya pointed at the end of the kitchen counter. “And he couldn’t go back to bed.”

“But we helped him.” Julia’s toothless smile made her brown eyes sparkle.

Jocelyn sighed. “I wanted to go get you—may we call you Miss Darla?”

“I’d like that. Yes.”

“I wanted to go get you, Miss Darla, but—”

“But I said there was no need to bother you, and I was right.” The light blanket was draped across only Mr. Zanzucchi’s bandaged back. Stocking feet stuck out below the cuffs of his brown trousers.

“It doesn’t sound as if your daughters share your confidence.”

“True enough. But do you realize that we haven’t even said hello? I couldn’t get in a word.” He raised his hand in greeting. “Hello, Nurse Taggart. Miss Darla, to some. How are you today?”

Amused.
But it might not be appropriate to say so. She had said she was professional, and she needed to remain as such. “I’m well, thank you for asking.” She went to the sideboard to wash her hands. Jocelyn already had the bowl of hot water and lye soap ready for her. “It sounds like you’ve been in a bit of trouble the past couple of days.”

“That would be an understatement. Can’t even scratch my nose without a guard going on full alert.”

She let a giggle escape. “But such adorable protectors they are.”

“Please. I can’t have you taking their side. I have enough pretty girls giving me grief.”

Enough pretty girls.
When no one else responded, Darla decided to ignore his comment as well. But drying her hands on a clean towel, she couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Zanzucchi had intended to include her as one of the pretty girls. Or if it was a mere slip of his tongue.

She went to her bag and pulled out the sterile bandages.

Footfalls and faint voices moved the girls toward the window. “It’s Mithus Nell!”

“And William,” Jaya said.

That was something Darla hadn’t yet experienced in her home visits—callers stopping by while she tended to her patients.

Mr. Zanzucchi looked up at her. “Do you know Nell Archer?”

Archer.
“Not that I recall.”

“Do you have the time to wait a few minutes? The girls adore their
Mrs.
Nell.”

“Yes, of course, the treatment can wait.”

The girls ushered the guests inside. A young woman close to Darla’s age carried a wooden box with a metal clasp. A small boy rode in on Jocelyn’s back, giggling and swinging a sack like he was a cowboy and she, a horse.

The woman saw Darla standing beside the cot and stopped. She glanced from her hat to the bandages atop the medical bag. “I apologize for the intrusion.” The high cheekbones and the chin made Nell Archer look familiar.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Mr. Zanzucchi said. “You are always welcome.”

“But we’ve interrupted.”

“Only a treatment I’m not especially anxious for.” He smiled, then looked at Darla. “Mrs. Archer and her husband, Judson, cared for the girls after the accident. They were a godsend.” He looked over at the child trying to lasso Julia with the sack.

“We had fun with the girls,” Nell Archer said. “And William loved having them to chase.”

“We played cowboys and dolls.” The words came out on a whistle through Julia’s new gap.

“And checkers,” Jaya said.

The visitor nodded and smiled at Darla. “I’m Nell Archer.” Her smile reached warm blue eyes. “You look familiar, but—”

“I was thinking you did as well. I’m Darla Taggart.” Darla studied the young woman’s face. Nell had the same blue eyes, pronounced chin, and dark blond hair as the woman outside the parsonage. Ida. Another Sinclair sister. “By any chance, is it your sister who’s married to the new parson at First Congregational?”

“Yes. Ida. There is a mess of us Sinclairs here in Cripple Creek now.”

Darla nodded. “Your father married Miss Hattie.”

“He did. And you know Kat.” She’d said it as a statement of fact, without a hint of judgment.

“Of course. Nell Sinclair. I’d forgotten that you married Judson Archer in a double wedding.”

When the sack swung near her, Nell snatched it from little William and handed it to Jocelyn. “We brought cookies, although they’re likely in crumbs by now. And I brought you all a game. Mr. Archer made it for you himself.” She held the wooden box out to Jaya and Julia.

“That was kind of him.” Nicolas laid his head back onto his arm. “The Lord knows the girls need something to do other than guard me.”

Jaya flipped the latch and opened the box. “It’s checkers!” She did a twirl that set all four of the children spinning and giggling. Jaya was the first to stop. “I get to play the first game with you, Miss Nell.”

A frown narrowed the woman’s eyes. “Not today, I’m afraid. William and I have a couple more stops before we meet up with Mr. Archer for his midday meal.”

When Nell and her son had gone, Mr. Zanzucchi suggested they all have a peanut butter cookie before Darla changed his bandages.

Despite Jocelyn’s concerns about her papa, the scabs were intact and there was no sign of fever. Apparently, he’d only angered the nerves and muscles by staying upright for too long. Guessing he’d learned his lesson, Darla didn’t say any more about it before returning the leftover cloth strips to her bag and latching it shut.

“Miss Darla.”

She glanced up at Jaya, who stood beside the game set up on the kitchen table.

“If you’re done taking care of Papa, can you play checkers with us?”

“Yes.” Julia clapped.

Darla drew in a deep breath. Without a doubt, this home was her favorite to visit. But she’d done her job here and had already stayed longer than she should have. And she still had other patients to see.

Mr. Zanzucchi raised up onto his forearms. “Do you play checkers?”

“If you count losing to Hattie Sinclair at the boardinghouse as playing, I do.”

He chuckled. “Then you’ll have to come back another time to play checkers. Sometime when you’re not working.”

She struggled to hide her stunned reaction to his suggestion but somehow managed to retain her composure and don her mantle.

Julia dashed to her side. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“I don’t work Saturday.” She shifted her attention to Mr. Zanzucchi. “Thank you for the invitation, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to come.”

She was, after all, a professional. Or had her patient forgotten that? She could understand the girls’ enthusiasm. His was puzzling. Unless he, too, could be developing feelings outside their nurse-and-patient relationship.

Nicolas lay in his bed. The position was the same—on his stomach—but the room was different. Quiet darkness had settled over the house on this Thursday night. All three girls had drifted off to sleep, leaving him alone to wrestle with his thoughts. Miss Taggart’s attentiveness to his girls the past three weeks. The confident way she consistently tended to his wounds. The tender conversations they’d had about fresh starts—for Cripple Creek following the fires in ‘96 and for its people. And today… the memory of the personal statements he’d made to his poor nurse.

“
I can’t have you taking their side. I have enough pretty girls giving me grief.
”

Nicolas scrubbed the whiskers on his jaw. In essence, he’d called her pretty. She was, but whatever had come over him that he would make such a personal and public statement to a young woman who was simply trying to perform her job?

She was right to dismiss his slip of the tongue. She’d busied herself drying her hands. Having trained at St. Luke’s, a big university, she no doubt had plenty of experience brushing off the careless remarks of forlorn patients.

And what of his invitation that she return to play checkers sometime when she wasn’t working? Whatever happened to his concern that it wouldn’t be proper to have a young single woman in the house? Yes, she was especially attentive to his daughters and personable with him, but she was there to accomplish medical tasks. The bewildered look she gave him in response to his invitation said he best not expect her to pay a visit during her off hours.

He’d made the suggestion because his girls enjoyed her company. Nicolas let out a deep sigh. The truth was, he enjoyed her company, too. Who wouldn’t? Miss Taggart wasn’t just pleasant to look at, but she was also intelligent and good-natured.

Still, it wasn’t like him to be so forward. No doubt it was due to the fact that he’d been confined for five weeks. First in the hospital, then in his home. And Miss Taggart had been the first woman to pay him any mind, let alone touch him, since Maria passed. Even the admission that her attention came in the execution of her job as his nurse didn’t diminish the fact that it had awakened his need for companionship.

Nicolas lifted his head and squashed his pillow into a ball.

If he couldn’t peel potatoes or do any wood carving, he would at least figure out a way to play checkers with his girls. They could play on the floor next to the cot. Or he could sit in the chair with a pillow at his back for a game, two or three times a day.

He needed something else to occupy his mind. Anything to keep him from thinking of Miss Taggart.

D
arla clicked the boardinghouse door shut behind her and stepped out onto a sunbathed porch. Saturday was the perfect day for clear weather—her day off. After breakfast, she’d written letters to Mother and Aunt Cora and polished her white booties. Her clean uniform hung on the clothesline out back.

She descended the steps and picked her way down the slushy gravel walk to the street. As she passed the neighboring houses on Golden Avenue, snow from Monday’s storm still huddled in shady pockets here and there, but sunshine reigned and warmed her back.

At the corner, Darla turned right and down the steep street toward company housing. It was a good day to play checkers with the three Zanzucchi girls.