Healing of the Heart: A Shumard Oak Bend Novel (Discerning God’s Best Book 4)

Chapter 19

May 1872

Thomas

Thomas tried to ignore the laughter in the parlor below. He reviewed his comments on the patients assigned to him by Dr. Whitaker and made additional notes. Being thorough was necessary, but Dr. Whitaker expected perfection.

Since he’d accepted the internship, there had been little time for fun. He may not officially begin until the new school year, but Dr. Whitaker had him in rigorous training for the duties he would perform above his normal school workload and hospital rounds.

Thomas missed the physical activity of his Saturday position at Judge Pennypacker’s but mourned the loss of time with Douglass and Harriet—and Teddy. She smiled and chatted amicably over dinners when he made it home in time, but they’d not shared the closeness he’d felt after their snowball fight last year.

Thomas dropped his head into his hands and pulled on his hair. “Hair. I have to have a haircut before tomorrow morning.” He looked at his watch. Where would he find a place open this late or so early in the morning? Perhaps Cook could cut it for him.

Thomas tapped the stack of papers on his desk to even out the edges, then placed them in the folder for his morning meeting. He checked his suit and brushed at the shoulders before deeming it fit. Footsteps and laughter in the hall pulled at his heart, but he must remain focused on finishing well.

Thomas opened the door, and Merriweather squealed.

“Oh. You frightened me.” Her hand flew to her throat.

Thomas watched as Reggie put a protective hand on her waist. When had that relationship happened?

“My apologies,” Thomas offered. “I’m headed down to see Cook for a haircut.”

Birdie pushed past, and Thomas watched Teddy take a step backward as if attempting to create distance between them. Her gaze flickered momentarily toward him, then darted away, almost as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

Thomas was keenly aware of her presence, his senses heightened by her proximity. He couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of beeswax lotion that wafted toward him, teasing his senses. Her presence filled the hallway, making it hard for him to think clearly.

Birdie slipped her key into the door and turned back, a sly smile on her lips. “Cook’s already in bed with a headache. Teddy can do it. She cuts all of ours.” Birdie disappeared into the room, followed by her roommates, except for the one dark-haired beauty whose mouth was slightly agape.

The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the soft shuffling of feet. Thomas cleared his throat, struggling to find something to say that wouldn’t sound awkward or forced. He took a tentative step forward, then hesitated, unsure whether to advance or retreat. Should he say something, acknowledge the tension simmering beneath the surface, or should he pretend everything was normal and they were just two acquaintances passing in the hall?

“I have a meeting tomorrow,” he blurted out, his voice sounding strangely loud in the stillness of the hallway. “I have to defend my findings.” He ran a hand over his tired face, the rough stubble scratching against his palm. He felt as though he hadn’t slept in days, his exhaustion weighing him down like a lead weight.

He pushed the hair from his eyes and let it fall. “I’m sure you have better things to do on your night off.”

“No. I mean, yes. It is my night off, but I have nothing else to do. I won’t be able to sleep for hours. Hazards of working the night shift.” She gave a half-hearted laugh.

Thomas couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor in her laughter, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and how her words were tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Was she feeling as awkward as he was?

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on him, a tangible presence that seemed to press in on him from all sides. His hands trembled slightly as he forced them into his pockets, desperate to hide the nervous energy that coursed through him.

Teddy made the first move. “Let me get my scissors, and I’ll meet you on the back porch. The weather is nice, and there should be enough light.”

Thomas massaged the back of his neck, trying to release the tension. He grabbed a chair and followed the warmth from the stove as it spilled out into the crisp night air, then placed the chair on the landing. Thomas missed the wide-open space of Missouri. When he sat on his parents’ porch, his gaze could roam freely across vast expanses of land. Here, however, the most prominent sight was the tangled growth of bushes obscuring the windows of the neighboring house just a short distance away.

Teddy stepped outside. “This is perfect. Just enough light.”

Teddy wore an apron he had not seen before. The quilting was crude, and the faded colors blended together. A pair of scissors and a comb stuck out from a pocket. He took in a deep breath and let it go through puffed cheeks.

Teddy laughed, and the smile she gave seemed genuine. “That worried? I promise I’ve done this hundreds of times. You’ll still have both your ears when I’m finished.”

“But what about my eyebrows?” he teased, the familiarity of their easy banter so natural.

“That I can’t promise.”

It felt good to laugh. “I am at your mercy.” He bowed, then sat. Lavender invaded his senses as Teddy placed a cloth over him and tied the ends behind his neck. He shivered at her nearness.

Teddy placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re cold, we can move inside. I’ll light a lamp.”

“No. I’m fine. Overly tired and feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“What is your meeting about tomorrow?”

Thomas struggled to get words out of his mouth as Teddy ran a comb through his hair. The scratching motion was heavenly. If he wasn’t careful, his tongue would hang out like his dog’s. He laughed.

“What is so funny?” Teddy leaned over and attempted to make eye contact.

“You running that comb through my hair reminded me of petting my dog back home. He loved a good scratch. His tongue would loll, and he’d make these low moans that sounded like he was dying.”

“Oh, dear. We can’t have any of that.” Teddy leaned close to his ear. “Mrs. Jones might hear and give us the stink eye for inappropriate behavior.”

She resumed her combing, and he felt the first cut. Thomas watched small half-circles of hair slide down the cloth and onto the first step. His body warmed at her touch. “Tomorrow. . .” His voice creaked like it had in puberty.

“Yes. You were going to tell me what has you all worked up into a ball of knots. Lower those shoulders, or I’ll have to take back my promise of keeping the ears.”

“Right.” He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head left and right before taking a deep breath in and releasing it—and the stress in his shoulders.

“Much better.” Teddy resumed her work.

“The final grade for this semester is an accumulation of months of work. I have seven patients I monitor, each with unique issues. I’ve been tracking them since admittance and have kept detailed records. Most have been released from care. One is still hospitalized. Another died.” Her sharp intake of breath made him flinch, but he continued.

“Tomorrow, I defend what I’ve learned.”

“Defend?”

“I’m presenting my findings to eleven doctors, my professors, and will answer questions they have. Basically, the defense is to prove I’ve been paying attention to detail, researching deeper than they have, and that I meet the criteria they’ve set, granting me the honor of graduating from a lowly first-year to a second-year student with extra responsibilities.” He laughed.

“That’s wonderful, Thomas. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. You’ve certainly put in the hours. All those missed meals and game nights are paying off,” she remarked, her voice tinged with wistfulness.

He felt the change in her tone, recognizing the wistfulness that had crept into her voice even as she expressed her encouragement. The brief lightness of earlier turned heavy. “I suppose, but it will mean they’ll expect even more of me. They haven’t made the formal announcement, but I’ve been appointed as the new medical ambassador.”

“Congratulations. What does that entail?”

“A more appropriate title is class representative and chief errand boy. It’s basically an internship position with exclusive access to Dr. Whitaker. I’ll be the primary liaison for our class, saving the professors’ time from overbearing students. I’ll also handle tasks the doctors either don’t have time for or prefer not to do, such as grading papers. And, as if I have all the time in the world, I’ll also provide support to struggling students during rounds and assist them with their studies.”

She pressed his head forward, and he felt the cold steel against his neck.

“That is, if you don’t sever a major artery.”

Teddy laughed. “Just remember, I know my anatomy, too. I can make it look like an accident.”

Thomas chortled and did his best not to move. A bat flew in his line of sight, and he focused on the light drawing others. Several moments passed with only the sound of scissors snipping hair.

Teddy broke the silence. “I understand you and Miss Whitaker are doing well. Congratulations on that accomplishment as well. She’s quite the catch.”

Time froze—his heart with it. “Emmaline? We’re getting to know each other.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“I mean, it’s not like we’re getting married or anything. Do you know Emmaline?”

“Our paths cross frequently.” She pulled a little harder than necessary.

He turned in his chair, not caring about ears or eyebrows. Even in the dim light, he recognized the lines in her forehead. “Is she talking about me?”

Teddy put her scissors in her pocket and pulled out her comb. She ran it through his hair, then checked for unevenness, fixing one spot. “You could say that.”

“Teddy. Please. I could use your help. Be a friend. What is she saying?”

“Ask her yourself.” Teddy pocketed the items and stepped to the side. He noted the crossed arms and stony expression.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not like that.”

“Like what?” Teddy leaned against the wall.

“Like . . . I don’t know . . . like . . .”

“A relationship? Courtship? Engagement?” Her eyebrows went up.

“No. I mean. Ugh.” He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

Thomas wanted to talk to Teddy, but when he looked into her eyes, there was a vulnerability, or maybe hurt, in them.

She reached for him, and he felt the tension from earlier return.

“Let me get this apron off you.”

Thomas couldn’t determine if the trembling in her hands was from embarrassment, anger, or being cold. He opted for the latter. “Now you’re the one who’s cold.”

“I’m fine. Let me sweep this up, and we can head into the parlor. The fire’s still going. You take the chair back in.”

He did as she asked, holding the door for her as she entered the kitchen. Teddy led them into the parlor, and they sat by the window.

“Teddy, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if you don’t want to share with me what Emmaline is saying, especially if it borders on gossip, but I’m truly at a loss.” Thomas pushed down on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you. So, am I to understand there isn’t anything between you and Emmaline?”

“Yes. No.” He blew out a puff of air and leaned back. It would be better if he started at the beginning. “I’ll give you the condensed version. I think Emmaline likes me, but I’m not even sure about that.”

The sound Teddy made was not quite a laugh. “Oh, she likes you. Sorry. Please continue.”

“Remember New Year’s Eve? I thought I was attending a big party, but it was just me. Like when I went at Christmas, Emmaline and I played games. She’s quite formidable, but unlike you, she’s a sore loser.” He winked and noticed a pretty flush fill Teddy’s cheeks.

“I have to let you win every once in a while,” Teddy teased.

“Right. Anyway, we talked, we ate, we played, we danced . . . ” Thomas stopped when Teddy flinched. Was she upset? “Listen, it’s not really important.”

“Yes, it is, Thomas. Please continue. I’d like the big picture. It’s hard to help without solid information.”

“Emmaline left with her mother to powder her nose, and the next thing I know, I’m having a heart-to-heart with Dr. Whitaker. Essentially, he said if I wanted the internship, it would require some sacrifices on my part. I knew that, but I didn’t understand it would also mean some compromises.”

His chest tightened, and the room grew warm. He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw and leaned forward in his chair.

Teddy’s voice was soft. “What compromises?”

When he looked at Teddy, her skin was pale. “Oh, nothing like that, if you mean—I mean, nothing improper.”

Teddy nodded. Her clenched hands pulsed like his heart—hard and fast. “So, there is something to the rumors.”

He felt utterly drained, like a punctured balloon losing its air, and slouched in the chair. “Which one? It seems like there are several. At this point, I’m not even sure what’s true.”

“Emmaline has insinuated that you two are more than a little close. She even hinted there may be a ring after graduation.”

Thomas sat up straight. “What?”

Teddy sighed, her gaze focused on her hands. “I’m sorry. If she’s not being truthful, maybe you should talk to her.”

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of confusion and frustration settling in. “I didn’t know it had gotten this far. Emmaline and I are just friends.” That wasn’t true, and he knew it.

“Talk to her. Clear things up.”

Thomas felt trapped, and he’d walked right into the snare without thinking. Just last week, Dr. Whitaker had reminded him to never disappoint his daughter. Was marriage the expectation?

“Thomas?”

Teddy touched his forearm, and electricity shot up his arm. He stared at the rough skin, so unlike Emmaline’s softness. He looked into Teddy’s eyes and saw genuine compassion.

He pulled his arm into his lap. “I’ll figure something out. Thanks for the haircut. Let me know how I can repay the favor.” Nervous energy propelled him to his feet. “If I’m going to give my best tomorrow, I need to get some shut-eye. Thanks, Teddy.”

“Anytime. I’ll hold you to that favor.” She smiled, but the sparkle didn’t reach her eyes.

Thomas nodded in acknowledgment and headed toward his room. How would he ever sleep with so much to process—and the reality of the touch still burning his arm?