Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Everyday for a week, Natalie arrived at precisely eight o’clock in the morning.
“I’d come earlier,” she said on the first day. “Except the doctor likes to have his breakfast ready to eat at seven-thirty before he begins making calls.”
Hannah told her it didn’t matter what time she came.
After all, she was simply happy to see her friend and have company for a while.
The first day, Natalie stayed a couple of hours, and then Vivi arrived to help for two more hours in the afternoon.
Each day, Natalie stayed later and later, until on the last day, when Ada came to offer to make supper, Natalie shooed her away.
“All right,” Hannah said from the bed as Natalie closed the door. “Sit down and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.” The tight smile her friend gave Hannah made her think otherwise.
“Yes, and I love sitting in this bed all the time,” Hannah said wryly.
She leaned forward and patted the end of the bed.
“You’ve stayed here every day for longer and longer amounts of time, even though I know you have your own home to keep up.
You just sent away Ada before she could even come in and say hi, never mind lend a hand. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Natalie sat and pressed her hands against her face, hiding her expression from Hannah. “I’m too embarrassed.”
“You know everything about me,” Hannah said. “There is nothing you can say that I’d ever find embarrassing.”
“All right.” Natalie heaved an enormous breath and turned to better face Hannah. “It’s Dr. Stanton. Alex.”
Hannah tilted her head, wondering if the kind doctor wasn’t at all as he appeared to be.
“He’s a perfectly good man. A very good man, in fact. He’s smart, thoughtful, generous. And he’s excellent at his work. He’s a very committed physician.” Natalie paused.
“And?” Hannah was dying of curiosity now. What could possibly be wrong?
“He wants me to help.” Natalie said the words so fast they sounded like one long word.
“With his practice?”
Natalie nodded. She brushed back a loose curl and sighed.
“That doesn’t sound so terrible. What does he need you to do?” Hannah pictured her friend ensuring the doctor’s bag was packed, the instruments cleaned, and perhaps answering the door to patients while Dr. Stanton was busy making a house call.
“Oh, it’s awful. He wants me to help with the actual doctoring.
I don’t think you’d mind so much, not with the way you were always nursing the little ones’ scrapes and cuts back home, or how you managed to keep that man alive up in the mountains.
But Hannah, I feel ill looking at blood, and getting too close to someone with hives or who is coughing sets me on edge.
I can’t imagine what I’d do if someone came in with a terrible broken bone.
” Natalie wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.
“Have you told Dr. Stanton how you feel?” Hannah asked.
Natalie made a pained face. “No. He thinks he married a capable woman, and I’m . . . not capable.”
“Perhaps not with medicine, but you’re good at a hundred other things!” Hannah pushed herself up to a better sitting position. “You’re the best at needlework, you know the names of every flower, and don’t forget about how many games of charades you won!”
Natalie laughed, and the sound lightened Hannah’s heart.
“Not to mention keeping house, cooking, and all of those other daily tasks. You are perfectly capable. You only need to talk to him about nursing. Perhaps you can keep his books instead.”
Natalie nodded. “You’re right. I will. And what about you and that letter you received from Mr. Donahue?”
Hannah shuddered. She hadn’t mentioned a word of it to Rafe. “That’s different. He’s far away, and no threat to me now.”
“But don’t you think Deputy Garland deserves to know?” Natalie pressed.
She had a point. The knowledge did weigh heavy on Hannah’s heart, when she thought of it. Which, thankfully, wasn’t very often. “Maybe,” she conceded. “I don’t want to upset him, though.”
“Hannah. He’s a deputy sheriff in this town. I imagine he’s seen a thousand more worrisome things than a letter from a terrible man who cannot understand rejection.”
Hannah lifted the corner of her mouth in a smile. “That’s true. Now, will you go home? I’ll be perfectly fine until Rafe arrives, and I’m sure your husband misses you.”
“After I make you both supper.” Natalie tapped her hand on Hannah’s knee before getting to work.
When Natalie left, Hannah leaned back in bed, savoring the scent of the roasted chicken her friend had made. Maybe Natalie was right. If she could conquer her embarrassment at confessing an aversion to blood, Hannah could tell Rafe about Mr. Donahue.
He arrived home soon afterward, immediately breaking into a smile when he saw her. He crossed the room to give her a kiss on the forehead before taking the time to remove his hat or take off his gun belt.
It was the first time he’d kissed her since their wedding. Hannah glowed with the knowledge, glad she hadn’t pulled away as she’d done before. Sure, it wasn’t the same kind of kiss, but this one meant the world to her.
“It smells wonderful in here,” Rafe said.
“Natalie made roast chicken with beans. I believe she may have also sliced a tomato and brought some bread with her.”
“I can’t wait—”
“Rafe?” Hannah decided she needed to tell him now, before she grew too self-conscious.
He paused, belt and hat dangling from his hand.
“May I tell you something before we eat?” she asked.
“Of course.” The look of concern that clouded his eyes was almost more than she could bear.
Not for the first time while stuck in bed during the week, she wondered at how she’d been so lucky to find herself wed to Rafe.
He’d been so grouchy and cold at first, but now he was an entirely different person.
She hoped he wouldn’t think less of her after she told him about Mr. Donahue.
“What is it?” he prompted.
It was better not to drag it out, Hannah supposed. “Do you remember that letter I received?”
He nodded. “The one from your friend in New York?”
“It wasn’t from a friend.”
Rafe sat down on the bed in the place Natalie had earlier, dropping his hat and gun belt onto the quilt.
“Who was it from?” he asked.
Hannah twisted her hands together as she tried to figure out the best way to describe Mr. Donahue. Rafe reached out and rested his hand on hers, stilling them. He watched her with his warm brown eyes, and she felt safer than she ever had in her life.
“A man named Jack Donahue.”