While Love Stirs (16 page)

He stepped into the room. Apparently deep in thought, she didn’t look up. He cleared his throat. “Hi, Charlotte.”

Charlotte jolted. The knife slipped and sliced deep into her index finger.

18

“Ow!” Charlotte dropped the knife and it clattered onto the chopping board. Grabbing the tea towel beside her, she wrapped it around her throbbing finger.

Joel dropped his bag on the table and took hold of her wrist. “Let me take a look.”

“It’s only a cut.” She tried to pull away, but he held fast. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a person holding a knife.”

He eased the towel off, took a quick look, and covered it back up. He pressed the towel firmly over the wound.

Pain jolted through her finger, and Charlotte sucked in her breath.

“Sorry. The pressure will stop the bleeding.” He scanned her face. “Do you need to sit down? You’re not dizzy, are you?”

“I cut up chickens for a living. I don’t faint at the sight of blood.”
Except you’re standing so close to me
I can hardly breathe.
She drew air into her lungs, catching a 100 percent masculine whiff—an earthy blend of soap, spices, and cedar. “I can keep pressure on this by myself.”

“That’s okay. I’ve got it.” His gaze darted to the chopping board. “What were you making?”

“I was cutting up an onion to fry with my steak.” Charlotte ordered her heart to quiet its erratic beat. He was a good doctor—of
that she had no doubt—and he was simply trying to take her mind off the cut. Nothing more.

He cocked his head to the side. “Steak is an odd late-night snack.”

“I didn’t eat much dinner.”

“Why?” His voice filled with concern. “Were you ill?”

“Two words.” Even if he treated all his patients with this much attention, she might as well use this time to her advantage. “Nurse Pierce.”

He started to speak but seemed to think twice about it. “I’m sorry I startled you, Charlotte.”

Those bottle-green eyes met hers, and she nearly forgot the drumming in her finger. She swallowed hard. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Slipping his free hand around her back, he urged her toward the sink. “Let’s wash this off and see what we’ve got.” Without releasing her, he turned on the tap, then removed the stained towel and tucked her arm beneath his. “This is going to sting.”

He placed her hand in the flow of cold water and she gasped. Instead of thinking about the cut—or the fact that she was pressed against Joel’s side—she watched the pink swirls of water in the bottom of the porcelain sink circle the drain. Mesmerized, she leaned into him.

“Charlotte? Are you sure you’re not dizzy?”

“Uh, yes.” Heat infused her cheeks and she straightened. Good grief. What had she been doing? She needed to put some distance between them. “Can you bandage the cut and then be on your way?”

“Sorry, I’m afraid you’re going to need some sutures in this.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“’Fraid so. Remember, I cut up people for a living.” He flashed her a smile that almost took the pain away, then pressed a bar of soap into her palm. “You wash it and I’ll get my bag.” He returned a few seconds later. “Where are the fresh towels?”

Charlotte let her hands drip dry over the sink. “I’ll get them.”

“You sit.” He pointed to a stool by the table and then began opening one drawer after another until he found what he sought. He tossed a towel toward her and spread another on the table, where he placed the instruments he withdrew from his bag.

Charlotte’s stomach knotted when he opened a small case revealing a hypodermic needle. “I don’t think you’ll need that.”

“I can put the sutures in without the anesthesia, but I promise you, you’ll like it a whole lot better if you let me give you the injection.” He placed a pan of water on the stove to heat.

She jumped up. “My popovers!”

“Relax. I’ve got them.” He opened the oven door and removed the shallow pan holding six small baking dishes, each with a mounded, slightly brown popover. “See? Still good.”

“They’re overdone.”

“Then you won’t mind sharing them with me when we’re finished.”

When the water came to a boil, he lowered his instruments into the pot. Once he’d shucked his coat and rolled up his sleeves, he washed his hands, transferred the instruments to the towel, and assembled the syringe and filled it. “Ready?”

Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “If I say no, will you go away?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled. “Take a deep breath and this will all be over before you know it.”

If only that were true. It came as no surprise that Joel’s sutures were painstakingly perfect, but the way his gaze bore into hers every time he looked up caught her completely off guard.

This man was not the same one she’d been sparring with since their first meeting. He was kind and sympathetic—and much too handsome tonight with his hair tousled and his guard down. He leaned over her hand until he was so close she could see his hair ruffle every time she exhaled. Only the slight tug of the needle told her he’d made the first stitch.

While he worked, he explained he’d come to tell her that Aunt Sam could get out of bed now and offered to bring over a cane.
Charlotte assured him she was certain Aunt Sam’s husband had probably owned a cane, but if not, she’d go get one.

“She’s already made an exceptional recovery.” He clipped the silk with a pair of scissors. “When I told her that, she sang your praises for the menu you prepared.”

“Aunt Sam doesn’t miss an opportunity to speak her mind.” But what did he think about the menu? Charlotte worried her bottom lip. Did she dare ask his opinion? Right now wasn’t exactly the best time to get him riled.

He set the scissors down and lifted his gaze. “I think your meal plan was beneficial to her. That’s what you’re wondering, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Your aunt mentioned you chose foods she could feed herself. Those who suffer apoplexy often become melancholy because of their loss of independence. Did Fannie Farmer teach you that?”

“Among other things.” She shifted on the stool. “Miss Farmer’s course specifically addressed five areas the patient requires—sense of sight, sense of taste, digestibility, nutritive value, and economy.”

He looked up from his work. “What food is easiest for a patient to absorb?”

“Are you testing me?”

“Maybe.”

“Sugar is completely absorbed by the patient. Starches hold second place. All but three percent of proteids are absorbed.”

“Impressive. There. All done.” Joel dabbed iodine onto the cut. “Take a look at my handiwork.”

Charlotte examined the neat row of tiny stitches on her orange-tinted finger. “If you ever decide to change occupations, you could always become a tailor.”

“Believe me, there are days I’d consider it.” He reached for her hand and wrapped the finger in a gauze bandage. “You’re going to have to keep this clean and dry.”

“For how long?”

He grabbed her hand to hold her still. “Five days or so.”

“But how am I going to lecture?”

“You seem to do fine giving lectures.” He tied off the ends of the bandage. “You’ve never needed your finger to give me one, anyway.”

She leveled her gaze at him and then proceeded to fill him in on her position with the gas company. Explaining how she was to leave on Monday for her next series of lectures around the Lake Minnetonka area, she held up her bandaged finger. “So how am I supposed to cook with this?”

“We’ll think of something.” Joel set his instruments back into the boiling water, then reached for the coffeepot on the stove. “Can I get you a cup too?”

“Thanks, but I can do it.”

“Are you always stubborn?”

“No, just with you.”

He pressed his hand to his chest. “I feel so honored.” He filled two coffee cups and handed her one, then gathered a popover for each of them. “Is there butter in the icebox?”

“And honey’s in the pantry.” She pointed to a door at the end of the kitchen.

Once he’d retrieved both items, he sat down at the table across from her. Charlotte broke open her popover. Even though it had been out of the oven for some time, steam escaped from the pastry, making her mouth water.

Joel slathered his with butter and honey and took a bite. “Delicious. You really are a good cook, aren’t you?”

“I think so.” She smiled and drizzled honey on her popover. The first bite melted on her tongue. She licked the honey from her lips and took a sip of the hot coffee. The warmth seemed to wash away the stress of the last hour. “You know, there are a lot of things I could show your nurses if you’d let me.”

He grinned. “I’ve seen how well you get along with my nurses.”

A stone thudded in Charlotte’s stomach. “What do you mean by that?”

“You and Nurse Pierce. I could tell upstairs you two haven’t been playing nice.”

“And you think that’s my fault?”

He hiked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it? That seems to be your pattern.”

“Ooooh.” She plopped down her coffee cup and some of the liquid splashed out. “Just when I’m beginning to like you, you have to go and judge me again. I’ll have you know—”

“So you like me?” A wide grin spread across his face.

Her neck and face infused with heat. “I didn’t . . . I don’t . . .”

When was she ever going to learn to keep her mouth closed?

19

The sight of Charlotte’s blushing cheeks and her flustered words made heat pool in Joel’s chest. It shouldn’t have, but it did. He must be more tired than he realized.

“Easy. One case of apoplexy per household, please.” Grabbing his napkin, he wiped up her spilled coffee. “Charlotte, I was only teasing you.”

Using her bandaged hand, she shoved a mass of loose auburn curls from her shoulder. Her hazel eyes flashed with golden flecks. “You don’t think I’ve been through enough tonight?”

“You certainly have, and I’m sorry.” He withdrew his instruments from the water, dried them, and placed each in its spot in his bag. He needed to get home before he got himself in trouble. “By the way, I saw how Nurse Pierce was acting upstairs. I knew she didn’t like that I told her to follow your menu, but I’d hoped she’d warm to the idea.”

“She has. Like a snowman warms to an igloo. And now that I’m leaving for a week, I fear she’ll completely ignore any menu I make for Aunt Sam.”

“I’ll speak to her.” He clasped his bag shut and slipped his coat back on. “She won’t like it, but your aunt is doing so well I don’t want to risk changing a thing. I’ll tell her to follow whatever directions you leave to the letter.”

Charlotte walked behind him to the front door and sheepishly held up her bandaged hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” That sounded odd to him, though saying “my pleasure” would hardly be appropriate. She looked nearly as tired as he felt, but an irrepressible light shone in her eyes. A tenderness for this vivacious woman tugged at his heart, and he had to tuck his hand under his armpit to keep from reaching out and cupping her cheek. “Get some rest.”

“Doctor’s orders?”

“A suggestion. I seem to recall you don’t like orders.”

“And I didn’t think you ever truly listened.” Her mouth widened, the corners lifting heavenward.

“I always listen, but I don’t always agree.” Her words stung, but he probably deserved them. He’d not taken her ideas seriously, and now, even though he saw some merit in them, he still wasn’t willing to go out on a limb and embrace them. Still, he did enjoy her company—at least when they weren’t fighting. Couldn’t they at least enjoy some kind of friendship?

He reached for the doorknob but then turned back toward her. “Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

“I’m beginning to like you too.”

He left her standing speechless in the foyer, cheeks rosy and mouth agape.

Yes, with a friend like Charlotte Gregory, things would never be dull.

The throbbing in Charlotte’s finger had grown to a dull ache by Monday morning. With her trunks packed, she and Tessa stood in the foyer waiting for Henry to bring the motorcar around. Charlotte would have him drop Tessa off at the theater before taking her to the railroad station.

“I wish you were going with me.” Charlotte adjusted Tessa’s
collar. Her sister smelled of the orange she’d eaten for breakfast. “I worry about you being here alone.”

Tessa swatted her hand away. “Hannah said she and Lincoln would be here every evening. I’ll hardly be alone. Besides, Aunt Sam will be here, and the household staff. And how could I forget the delightful Nurse Pierce?”

“Tessa, be kind to her, and please, try not to get into trouble.”

“How much trouble could I get into in six days?”

“I don’t even want to imagine.” Charlotte removed a folded piece of paper from her purse. “This is my itinerary. I left another copy on Aunt Sam’s desk with a contact name in each location. We’ll spend two days in Minnetonka, two in Excelsior, and two in Deephaven. I’ve listed the location where I’ll be giving the lectures in each city on this paper too. Don’t hesitate to send a telegram if I’m needed back here.”

“Relax, Charlotte.” Tessa tossed the paper onto the hall table. “Aunt Sam is on the mend, and I’ll be so busy rehearsing I won’t even know you’re gone.”

The driver opened the door and collected the first of Charlotte’s trunks. Tessa scampered out behind him, but Charlotte hurried into the study to collect a recipe she’d copied from a book last night. She heard the door open again. “I’ll be right there, Henry.”

She startled when she spotted Joel and sucked in her breath. He was framed by the morning sun shining through the front door windows.

He nodded toward her. “Good morning, Charlotte.”

“I thought you were Henry.” She ran her hand down the side of her traveling suit. “I didn’t realize you were coming to check on Aunt Sam this morning.”

In a couple of easy strides, he was in front of her. “I’m not here to check on her. I’m here to bring you something.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’re leaving for your lecture this morning, right? I told you I’d think of something to protect your finger while you cooked.”
He held out his palm. In it was a rubber nipple from a baby bottle. “Give me your good hand. I’ll show you how it works.”

When she didn’t move right away, he took her uninjured hand in his and lifted it to his chest. He eased the rubber nipple over her index finger, then clasped her hand. “See? You can put it over your stitches when you take the bandage off.”

“When did you think of this?”

“It came to me in the night.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a child playing hopscotch.

He’d been thinking of her? The thought warmed her more than she wanted to admit, but there was no need to romanticize this. He was a doctor and he was simply taking care of his patient. Besides, nothing could ever come of her and Joel. They reacted to one another like vinegar and baking soda.

She smiled. “Thank you, Joel. It will help a lot.”

“You’ll have to rebandage your finger, of course, when you’re not cooking.” He removed a roll of gauze from his pocket and handed it to her as well. “I’ll take the stitches out when you get back Saturday.”

“It will be late when I get home.”

“I don’t mind.” He eyed her other trunk. “Can I carry this for you?”

“Henry will get it.”

“Dr. Brooks, you’re here early.” Nurse Pierce descended the stairs with the brightest smile Charlotte had seen on the woman in days, but it was directed at Joel and not at her. “What a wonderful way to start the week. Mrs. Phillips will be delighted.”

He glanced at Charlotte. “I wasn’t here to see Mrs. Phillips, but I guess I can—”

“She’s already taken her first steps. I think you’ll be impressed. The exercises and stretches I’ve been doing with her have apparently worked wonders.” Nurse Pierce batted her eyelashes. “Shall we?”

He set his doctor’s bag down on the hall table. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

“But Mrs. Phillips may tire if you delay.”

“I’ll be right along. I’d like to speak to Charlotte a minute before she leaves.” He waited, and finally Nurse Pierce departed with a scowl on her face.

The driver returned for the final trunk and told her he was ready to leave when she was. Charlotte slipped the rubber bottle nipple into her purse and pulled on her gloves. “Was there something else?”

He shifted his weight to his other foot. “About what I said the other night.”

“Yes.” She sucked in a breath. Her heart skipped a beat. What was happening? He’d been thinking of her during the night, and he’d come here to see her off. What would she say if he asked her to step out with him?

“We’re friends, right?” He cleared his throat. “Just friends.”

The air whooshed from her lips, but she managed a tremulous smile. “Friends, Joel.”

He dipped his head and turned toward the staircase.

As she walked to the automobile, she mused over the encounter. She’d not honestly fancied anything else developing between her and the doctor, and at least they’d grown from being sworn enemies to friends, but still she felt an odd loss at his need to emphasize friendship.

She should be happy. She’d had her fill of men like Joel when she was a teenager back in Iowa. Like Joel, George had been a strong and masculine fellow. He’d been the star of the baseball team, and he’d wanted her to be his girl. He’d grown more and more demanding of her—of what she said and how she acted—and she’d tried so hard to become what he wanted that she’d lost herself.

It was probably better she and Joel draw the line at friendship. Like George, he had a strong personality, and she’d promised herself she’d never become involved with anyone like that again.

Henry helped her inside the automobile and she took a seat beside Tessa. Glancing back to the house, she spotted Joel waving
goodbye. She wiggled her gloved fingertips in his direction and sighed. “Goodbye, my friend.”

If she kept doing her work without drawing any attention to herself, Tessa wondered how long it would be before Miss Walker learned of her foray into the theater. As she walked to the office, she imagined an assortment of scenarios she might face. If the pedantic Miss Walker had no idea of what transpired, she would greet Tessa with a smile on her prim face and utter a proper “good morning” before assigning the day’s tasks. If she’d learned about the part, her reception might be considerably cooler. Would she go so far as to dismiss her?

Although Tessa wouldn’t be heartbroken to be released from the office responsibilities, she’d hate for her work to reflect badly on Aunt Sam. Would Miss Walker and Mr. Jurgenson understand she hadn’t intentionally asked for the part? Would they believe she’d literally stepped into it?

If Miss Walker didn’t know, how long could she keep the information from her? Since the rehearsals in no way interfered with her office work, and since Miss Walker never ventured beyond the office to interact with the questionable actors, would it be possible to keep her role a secret?

A tiny seed took root in Tessa’s mind and she smiled to herself. If Miss Walker and Mr. Jurgenson didn’t yet know of her role in
Peter Pan
, she was certain she could keep it from them until opening night. After all, that was just over two weeks away.

And she was exceptionally good at keeping secrets.