Chapter 26
June 1873Thomas
The birds chirped, announcing the morning’s start, but Thomas did not feel their excitement. Dread filled his heart as he supported Teddy up the boarding house steps. Mrs. Jones greeted them at the door.
“What is the meaning of this?” Her words quieted as she took in the sagging form beside him. “Take her to her room. Then I will speak to you. In private.”
He wanted nothing more than to sink onto the floor by his bed and seek God’s guidance, but he knew this could not wait. He nodded and helped Teddy up the stairs, then knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” a gruff voice answered.
“Birdie, it’s Thomas. And Teddy. Teddy requires assistance.”
The girl flung open the door, her normally short, flat hair sticking up in all directions. Thomas heard Merriweather squeal and diverted his gaze.
“What happened?” Birdie demanded.
Thomas smiled in thanks for the words that did not include an accusation. “She’s had a rough night and needs rest. I’ll let her explain when she’s ready.” Thomas stood amazed as Birdie softened and pulled Teddy into a tender embrace.
“We’ll take good care of her. Don’t you worry.”
Thomas nodded and stepped back as the door shut him out, possibly forever, from the girl he loved. He rubbed his chest. He’d known it all along, but that thick skull of his—no, he’d hardened his heart toward anything that might keep him from becoming a doctor. He’d accomplished that, but where had it left him?
Without a job. His stomach sank lower with each step down to the kitchen. He’d decided for Teddy as well. Now they were both unemployed. Thomas followed a waiting Mrs. Jones into the kitchen where Cook sat, wet hanky in hand. He held a chair for Mrs. Jones, then sat opposite them.
Mrs. Jones steepled her hands on the tabletop. “Dr. Shankel. Thomas . . .” She took a deep breath and whispered her next words as if they were painful to get out. “Is she compromised?”
Thomas’s throat tightened. “Not in body, but most definitely in spirit.”
Cook blew her nose.
Mrs. Jones remained stoic, but a single tear trailed down her cheek. “Is the perpetrator . . . ?”
“Teddy is safe.” He would not reduce himself to gossip, no matter his feelings for the man. He wondered how the ladies had guessed the situation so quickly, but he’d learned women possessed an ability to sense these things.
“What can we do?” Cook asked.
“I don’t know the answer to that question, but I’m trusting the Lord to provide it. What I know is this—I’ll be returning to Missouri as soon as I’ve packed. Mrs. Jones, I’ll pay you for my rent and Teddy’s through the end of the month and next.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. Must you go?” Mrs. Jones wiped at a tear.
Thomas took the first full breath he’d had in hours. “Yes, and I’m praying Teddy will go with me, but she’ll need someone to accompany her. I’ll not be the cause of any more disgrace than she’s already . . .” He could not finish.
Cook blew her nose again.
Mrs. Jones placed one hand over the other as if in prayer. “Perhaps one of the other girls will go.”
“I’ll go.” A small voice came from the doorway, and all three turned.
Streaks ran down David’s cheeks. He stepped in and stood beside Thomas.
“I’d miss you both awful if you left.” David scrunched up his face.
Mrs. Jones’s spine straightened. “It’s impolite to eavesdrop.”
David stood his ground. “It’s wrong to hurt somebody, too. I don’t know what happened, but I’ll do anything to help Miss Teddy.” His eyes pleaded with Thomas.
Thomas’s heart went out to the boy, and he thought of the stories his mother had told of her and her younger brother Charlie setting out across the wilds of America to find refuge in the West. It could work.
Thomas put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s a fine offer, but your family might not appreciate it.”
David turned to Cook. “Can I go?”
Thomas looked to Cook for understanding and watched as the woman pulled the boy to her side.
“I suppose I’m the closest thing to family you’ve got. But I’m not the one you should ask.”
“Then who?” He looked at each face around the table.
Thomas felt more than heard from the Lord. “Teddy. You need to ask Teddy, but not today.”
Mrs. Jones stood. “No more talk of this. We will give the girl all the time she needs to rest. David, wash your face, then head to the butcher for bones. Cook, we’ll be making a stout broth for that girl. Nothing cures a weak heart like a hearty bone broth.”
Thomas had known the women in his life were resilient, but he’d seen more examples today of strength in love than he’d thought possible. There’d been no condemnation of Teddy or him. These ladies cared deeply for their own. If Teddy would allow their ministrations, she’d recover, though Thomas was not the type of doctor to give a prognosis of how long that would be.
He slipped from the busy room and began the long walk to Harriet’s, giving him plenty of time to process how and how much to share with the woman.
Thomas sipped his cup of coffee and waited for Harriet’s response. She’d moved back and forth as if the kitchen chair rocked naturally while he’d shared an overview of the situation. He wasn’t sure what to expect as a response.
Harriet met his gaze. “You could marry her.”
He hadn’t expected that. Thomas’s mind whirled with a mix of surprise and consideration. Now that Harriet had voiced it, he found himself mulling over the possibility. Images of a shared future working together at their own clinic flashed through his mind, stirring a sense of warmth and excitement.
Yet, alongside that thought, doubts and uncertainties surfaced, reminding him of the complexities that such a commitment would entail. He couldn’t deny the allure of the idea—until he remembered Teddy’s fear-filled eyes. “She’s not in a place where that discussion would come out favorably.”
“Then, if she’ll agree to go with you, you’ll need a chaperone.” Harriet stood and refilled their mugs.
“You could go with us,” he pleaded.
“And leave Douglass?”
“You told me yourself he’s not in that grave.”
“That’s true, but he is in this house. I feel his touch every time I run my hand over the smooth wood of the chair. I hear his voice in the crackling fire.” Her eyes sparkled.
“I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.”
“Not ghosts, son. Memories. This house is full of them, and I can’t leave those.”
Thomas understood. He’d witnessed the same after the funeral. Douglass was everywhere in this home. “Then who? David offered. Apparently, he’s an orphan. He could pass as Teddy’s brother.”
“Don’t be rushing God. He’ll provide in time. You book passage for three, and trust God with the details. And you let Teddy know I still want her coming each day. Often a body dealing with such a deep hurt needs a purpose to make them get out of bed and face the world.”
“I’ll do that,” Thomas said.
“In the meantime, I believe we’ve some beseeching to do. Get my Bible.”
As he walked to town later, Thomas carried Harriet’s words in his heart—God would provide in due time. Their sweet communion in prayer had solidified his determination to convince Teddy to return with him to Shumard Oak Bend.
Each forward motion up the municipal building steps increased his resolve, and getting his affairs in order would be a good stewardship of his free time before heading home.
Home. He’d need to send a telegram letting them know of his upcoming return after he’d purchased the passage. So many details. And packing. He’d have more than the two crates he’d arrived with. The bookcase he’d added to his room had as many volumes lying on its surface as on its shelves. His magazine subscriptions would need to be redirected to his new address, as well as his final paycheck from the hospital.
Thomas held the door for a woman exiting the building. Her pert nose reminded him of Emmaline, as did the way she carried herself.
Emmaline. Speaking with her should be at the top of his list. His mother had always said to eat his brussels sprouts first to get them over with. He’d found it only ruined the rest of his meal, but like then, he’d tackle the distasteful chore as soon as he completed business with the clerk of court.
After completing his business, Thomas descended the stone steps and hailed a cab. He struggled to formulate the words to say to Emmaline but found none.
“Lord, may what I say be Your words. I harbor no ill will toward Emmaline or her family, though I trust Your Word and pray Your vengeance is carried out to the fullest extent of the law. I realize now that I should have sought Your guidance before acting on what I believed to be best for my future. I do not ask You to tidy up my mess, but to aid Emmaline in accepting the words You provide and to protect her heart from pain.”
The tin soldier stood sentry at the door when Thomas alighted from the conveyance. “Good morning, sir. Might I enquire whom you wish to see?”
“Miss Emmaline.”
The man looked at the sun. “This early?”
Thomas hadn’t considered the time. “I can return at a more appropriate hour. Would you enquire when she might be available? I’ll wait with my cab.” Thomas needed the fresh air.
The man nodded once and slipped into the home. Thomas hadn’t thought this through. He’d perfected the art of making snap decisions, but that didn’t bode well when heeding the Holy Spirit’s voice. Would he never learn to allow God to work in his timing?
The man opened the door. “She’ll meet you in the library momentarily.”
“Thank you.” Thomas’s stomach flipped. “Excuse me. Is Dr. Whitaker at home?”
“Not at present.”
Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. He walked along the walls of the library, perusing titles and looking over his shoulder at every sound. He pulled a volume and opened it. The pages crackled with disuse. He turned at the sound of light footsteps.
Emmaline stood in the doorway. “Light reading this morning?”
Thomas replaced the book and bowed to the beauty before him. She was truly lovely, even with red-rimmed eyes. She knew. Maybe not the truth, but she knew something. He moved to the chairs.
“No need to sit. This visit will be quick.” She stepped inside the door but stopped at the opposite edge of the worn rug.
“Emmaline,” he started.
“Dr. Shankel. I wish to speak plainly.”
Dr. Shankel. That spoke volumes.
She straightened her spine. “I wish to break our engagement.”
Thomas wasn’t sure which shocked him more—how God had handled the situation or that Emmaline considered them engaged when he’d never actually asked. He lowered his head and grasped his hands behind his back.
Emmaline spoke with unwavering resolve. “I hadn’t fully understood your eagerness to return to the wilderness of the West. That was not part of the plan, and I refuse to accompany you.”
Thomas’s gaze snapped to her, but the sheen forming in her anguished eyes kept him silent.
“Father roused me early to relay your decision to relinquish the position he labored so generously and tirelessly to secure for you and our future.”
Dr. Whitaker had done what? Thomas fought to maintain a stoic demeanor.
Emmaline pressed on. “Your choice simplifies mine. I do not harbor affection for you, Thomas. If I did, perhaps there would be room for forgiveness for this foolishness. Yet, I now realize you will forever remain the uncultured country dweller you were when you first arrived. I’m simply grateful I recognized it before committing the gravest mistake of my life.”
Thomas stood dumbfounded. Could God really have made it this easy? As if taking the role of a patient receiving bad news, Thomas became resigned and lowered his gaze. “I understand.”
“No hard feelings, darling. It’s simply for the best.”
“Of course, Miss Whitaker. I respect your decision and wish you all the best. I apologize for misleading you in my desires.”
The toy soldier servant stepped into the room. “Your carriage has remained, sir.”
Thomas nodded his thanks to the man, who displayed his first glimmer of emotion, which Thomas interpreted as a flicker of intrigue or perhaps a hint of bemusement.
Emmaline’s usually poised and confident posture now seemed to wilt. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, betraying the turmoil within.
Thomas watched Emmaline’s lips press into a thin line, the tiny tremors betraying the effort it took to keep her emotions in check. Despite her best efforts, a flicker of pain flashed across her features, a fleeting glimpse of the heartache she fought so desperately to conceal. And yet, she held her ground, chin lifted in defiance, refusing to let him see the depth of her hurt.
She was struggling, and Thomas didn’t want to add to her pain. “It has been my honor to know you, Emmaline. Thank you for your attempt to assimilate me into your world.”
Thomas offered his hand in parting, and Emmaline allowed him to take hers. He pressed a kiss to her hand, noting the tremor that betrayed more than words ever could. One thing he had gleaned from his medical school experience was that the body revealed truths that even the most adept individuals endeavored to conceal.