The Heirloom Brides Collection (9 page)

“Ma, this is my own concern, not yours. And Betsy Lowell is certainly not looking to get herself hitched. The first thing she did was go and find a position to take care of Old Joe.” Most other girls would have found a man, not a place to work.

Ma waved aside his objection. “Nonsense. She did what she had to do because there’s no man to take care of her.”

But Stuart wasn’t so sure about that. As weary and thin as Betsy appeared lately, he had a feeling she enjoyed standing on her own two feet. Especially after losing the farm through no fault of her own. The day she’d paid off Old Joe’s account at the store, he’d seen deep satisfaction in her eyes.

“You enjoy working at the store,” he pointed out.

Ma nodded thoughtfully. “True, but I didn’t work there when your pa was alive. I enjoyed taking care of the house and you and Ruth.” She smiled at him as they reached the steps to the house. “Since he died, I find the store provides me with distraction from missing him so much.”

Stuart held on to her hand as she slowly negotiated the stairs, and they entered the house together. “I’ll call you when lunch is ready,” she said.

“Ma, about Miss Annie…”

She turned and frowned. “Annie? What about that woman?”

“The other night at dinner you said something that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”

She gave a snort. “I wish you’d listen to what I say about Betsy Lowell with that kind of attention.”

A smile tipped the corners of Stuart’s lips. “Don’t change the subject. What did you mean when you said Betsy’s tardiness had nothing to do with the way Miss Annie was acting?”

Ma shrugged and walked toward the kitchen as though that was supposed to end the matter. Stuart followed her and leaned against the doorframe as she pulled out an iron skillet and stoked the fire. “Well?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“She remembers what day that is, too.”

“I don’t understand.” He frowned. “You don’t mean about Pa’s death.”

“Just leave it be, Son.”

Her jaw was set, so Stuart knew there was no point in pushing the issue. She pulled a bowl of potatoes off the shelf and began to peel them. Stuart stood for a minute longer, then walked back toward the sitting room. He glanced out at the gray day. He had a feeling more snow was on the way.

At six o’clock that evening, he stepped over the threshold of the Avery home, carrying a warm apple pie. Mrs. Avery smiled. “Stuart, so nice to see you.” She looked over his shoulder. “And your ma?”

“Feeling a little poorly, I’m afraid.” The coming weather was bothering her hip, and she’d decided to lie down with the hot-water bottle and a book. “She sent the pie and her regrets.”

“We’ll send her a plate home, and I’ll have the doc stop by and see her tomorrow.”

“If I can convince her to stay home.” Ma hadn’t missed a day at the store since Pa died. But Stuart knew that couldn’t continue much longer. With all of her aches and pains, it was becoming increasingly clear she needed to let him take over.

Maybe he’d discuss Ma’s condition with the doc, even though she’d be furious at him for doing so. He shed his coat and hat just inside the door, and Mrs. Avery hung them on the peg board. He glanced around, shifting his gaze first toward the kitchen, then toward the room he’d helped carry Old Joe into a few weeks earlier.

Mrs. Avery patted his arm. “She’s in there with Old Joe. He’s not perking up the way Doc wants him to.”

Seeing no point in denying that he was looking for Betsy, he nodded and handed Mrs. Avery the pie.

“Smells wonderful,” she said. “And still warm.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Stuart glanced at Old Joe’s door again.

“Come on into the kitchen. I’ll get you some coffee. Dinner will just be a few minutes.” She winked as he held the door open for her. “Mrs. Vale had twins last week, so Mr. Vale paid the doctor a chicken for each of his new sons. Don’t they smell delicious?”

Stuart laughed. “Yes, ma’am, they certainly do.” She poured a cup of coffee and set it on the table.

“Can I set the table for you?” he asked.

“I should say not.”

“Oh, now, I help my ma in the kitchen all the time.”

“And that’s good of you.” She gave him a look that said not to argue and waved him toward the chair. “But you are my guest, and my guests do not work for their supper.”

Which was all well and good, but Stuart felt ill-at-ease just sitting there, doing nothing while she fluttered about the kitchen, setting the table, pulling the chickens out of the oven. By the time Doc Avery joined them, everything was on the table.

“There you are.” Mrs. Avery kissed her husband’s cheek. “Where’s Betsy?”

“She’s finishing up Old Joe’s shave. She asked us to go ahead and start.”

“I should say not. We’ll wait for her.”

The doctor’s eyes twinkled. “That’s what I told her you’d say.” He sipped the coffee his wife poured and turned to Stuart. “Your ma couldn’t make it?”

“The weather makes her hip act up, so she went to bed with a hot-water bottle.”

“I’ll go see her tomorrow.”

“That’s what I told him.” Mrs. Avery winked at Stuart.

Stuart looked from one to the other with a mix of emotions. Amusement at their banter, but a sense of longing also. What would it be like to grow old with someone? These two had an obvious affection for each other. But it went beyond the marriages he’d observed. The Averys were friends. That was the sort of marriage he hoped to have someday.

Unbidden, Betsy Lowell’s face came to mind.

The kitchen door opened, drawing him from his reverie. He stood quickly, nearly upending his chair as Betsy came in. She carried a tray with a bowl and cup. Stuart walked to her and reached for the tray.

She gave him a weary smile and relinquished the burden. “Thank you, Mr. Fields.”

He wished she’d stop going back and forth between calling him Stuart and Mr. Fields. He much preferred the former, and almost said so, but with the Averys looking on, thought better of it. He set the tray on the counter and resumed his place at the table.

They bowed their heads, and Doc Avery said a hasty blessing. As soon as he finished, Mrs. Avery placed her napkin in her lap and lifted her fork. “So, Betsy, tell us how things are going at the restaurant.”

“We’ve been very busy.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing.” She smiled kindly. “But you don’t want to tire yourself out too much.”

Betsy met her gaze with a smile. “A little hard work never hurt anyone.”

“Is your room staying warm enough?”

“Too warm sometimes. It’s over the kitchen.”

“You know, we have the extra room. You’re more than welcome to come back here.”

“Thank you for your kindness, ma’am, but my room is fine.”

Betsy cast a quick glance at Stuart, obviously not wanting to discuss this in front of him. He cleared his throat. “I hear the new teacher is already moving on,” he said. He hated to repeat any of the gossip that filtered through the general store, but Betsy needed the focus taken off her.

His ploy worked. Mrs. Avery’s eyes went big. “Already? Why, she’s only been here for three months.”

“Apparently, she’s had an offer of marriage.”

“For mercy’s sake. The entire reason for hiring a spinster of her advanced years was to avoid this very thing. So many of the young, pretty ones come and get snatched up the second they get off the stage.”

Stuart grinned. “That’s what my ma did. She came to teach and was married to my pa in six months.”

Doc Avery laughed. “Maybe we should start hiring men teachers instead of women, or the next generation of children are going to be complete imbeciles.”

Laughter continued along with the meal, and the conversation stayed safely away from Betsy’s fatigue, job, and living conditions.

When they had eaten the last of their dessert, Mrs. Avery stood and began clearing. Betsy rose to help, but she waved her back to her chair. “Not tonight, Betsy.”

“Oh but, Mrs. Avery, I couldn’t just let you do all the cooking and then the cleaning, too.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not to lift a finger.”

Faced with Mrs. Avery’s determination, Betsy sat back in her chair. She glanced at Stuart. “Please tell your ma I’m sorry she’s feeling poorly.”

“Thank you. She’ll be pleased you said so.”

Mrs. Avery set a covered plate on the table. “Be sure to give this to your ma. And I’m sending the rest of the pie back as well. Not that we left much.”

By the time the table was cleared, Stuart began to feel as though he might be in danger of overstaying his welcome, but he hated leaving Betsy. They had barely spoken to each other during the entire meal. Reluctantly, he stood. “Thank you for the wonderful meal, Mrs. Avery.”

The doctor stood and extended his hand. “It was good to see you. Now don’t forget to tell your ma I’m dropping by tomorrow, and I’ll expect to find her at home.”

Stuart grinned and accepted the proffered hand. “Doctor’s orders. I’ll let her know. But she’s not going to be pleased.”

“Stuart, hon. If you’re leaving now, would you mind walking Betsy back to her room?”

Betsy started and jerked her gaze to the other woman. “Why, there’s no need for that, ma’am. I’m fine walking by myself.” She gave a wry grin. “As a matter of fact, I do it every week.”

“And it makes me very nervous. So do me a favor and set my mind at ease.”

Stuart could have kissed the meddling woman. This was the opportunity he needed to spend some time alone with Betsy. And they’d be out in the open, so there was no impropriety. “It’s no inconvenience, Miss Lowell. I have to walk right by Miss Annie’s anyway.”

Finally, she nodded. “Let me just peek in on Pops first; then I’ll be ready to go.”

When she disappeared through the kitchen door, Mrs. Avery gave him a nudge. “Don’t waste the opportunity.”

The doctor clicked his teeth. “Hon, meddling is unbecoming in someone as beautiful as you. Let the young people alone.”

She gave a snort. “Mind your own affairs, Doctor. And leave me to mine. This boy needs all the help he can get.”

Stuart felt his ears burn and knew he was likely red-faced. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

Betsy knew Mrs. Avery was doing her best to push Stuart to court her. But even if Miss Annie allowed gentleman callers, when would she ever have time to accept a man’s attention? Her days were filled with work, and Sundays were for Pops. She wasn’t like other young women her age—well, most young women her age were married with two or three children already. But she couldn’t think about finding a husband. Pops needed her to continue working so that she could pay his doctor bills. Otherwise, how would he ever be able to hold up his head living in town?

She watched his breathing, hearing the rattle of each rise and fall. Doc Avery said he likely had pneumonia. The thought terrified her. How could Pops survive his awful injuries with pneumonia on top of it? As grateful as she was for the opportunity Miss Annie had given her, she felt guilty that she wasn’t here every day, caring for Pops. If he died when she wasn’t there, she’d never forgive herself.

He moaned softly and jerked away, his eyes opening.

“Hey, Pops.”

He frowned. “What are you still doing here? Don’t you got to be back?”

She nodded. “I have a few more minutes. We just finished supper.”

“I ain’t crazy about you walking home by yourself.”

A smile touched her lips, and she pulled the quilt up around his shoulders. “Stuart Fields is walking me home, so you have nothing to worry about.”

He snorted. “You have a better chance of keeping him safe than the other way around.”

“Don’t be mean. Remember he came just in time to stop Leo Blakely from taking advantage?”

He nodded and began a coughing fit that lasted a couple of minutes. The doctor opened the door, carrying a poultice. “This will help some.” Betsy moved out of the way and watched as the doctor laid the warm wrap on her grandpa’s chest, then put the quilt back in place.

He took a small amber bottle from his pocket and lifted it to his patient’s lips.

“What’s this?” Pops asked, a frown deepening the lines between his eyes.

“It’s just some laudanum. It’ll help with the pain and let you get some sleep.”

With uncommon meekness, Pops allowed the doctor to pour some of the medicine down his throat. He closed his eyes and a minute later had fallen asleep.

Doc Avery placed a hand on her shoulder. “Go on back to your room, hon. He’ll likely sleep until morning now.”

With a sigh, she took another glance at her grandpa and followed the doctor from the room. Stuart stood waiting, his coat on and buttoned, hat between his hands. “All set?”

“In a second.” Betsy turned to the doctor. “Do you think Pops is going to make it?”

The hesitation in his eyes told her everything she needed to know, but Betsy had to hear it from his lips. “I’m doing all I can to make sure he does.”

“But are you on a fool’s errand?”

A sudden smile tipped his lips. “Well now. We doctors like to believe we can perform miracles, and I wouldn’t call this a fool’s errand, as you say, but I do feel we have an uphill battle with Old Joe. His leg isn’t healing like it should, and I’m beginning to worry that he’s not going to land back on his feet, even with a crutch. We might need to look into ordering a rolling chair for when he’s able to get out of bed.”