Ever Constant, page 20
The object of his thoughts appeared in front of him. She held two buckets of food for the dogs and gave him a genuine smile. “You look contemplative today.” She poured the contents into the bowls for the dogs, and they lapped it up as fast as she poured.
He allowed a laugh. “Well, I was thinking it might be good for us to head back to Nome today. I think we’ve done all we can here.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Her eyes were brighter than they had been for some time.
“Do you mind if I test you again this morning?” She had almost a week’s worth of the snakeroot in her system. So far, he was pleased with the results.
“Not at all. But it does make my arm cold, so could we do it inside the tent today?” She gave a dramatic shiver.
He smiled. “Of course. Lead the way.” He held out an arm and then followed her back to her makeshift tent.
Peter pulled the sphygmomanometer out of his bag and placed the cuff over Whitney’s upper arm.
She winced as it tightened, and he watched the mercury manometer.
“Remember, deep breaths.”
She nodded.
After several minutes, he’d obtained what he needed. “It seems that your readings are indeed going down. Which is what we hoped for. I would continue with the snakeroot twice a day. How are the headaches?”
“I’ve had two this week, but then again, I’ve been too busy to even think about if my head is hurting.” The smile she gave him was more relaxed than he’d ever seen from her. “They haven’t been as intense as before.”
“Good.” His heart twinged when he couldn’t tear his gaze away. She was so beautiful. “Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me. I think we averted a real crisis.”
“It’s good to be needed. And, to be honest, to do something different. It helped me to get my mind straight again and off of the loss.” Her smile faded a bit. “I’m dreading going home knowing that Ruth is going through her own loss right now.”
Chris had gone back with another miner several days ago, but he’d told Peter that after she gave up her whiskey to him, they’d had a good talk.
Maybe that helped her too, along with the snakeroot. “That’s understandable. You know loss too well.”
“How do you deal with it? Loss? You mentioned that you lost your wife and baby—and I guess I don’t understand how your other pain isn’t brought to the forefront every time you lose a patient.” She tilted her head as if trying to get inside his mind. “How do you not push everyone around you away?”
The intensity in her eyes drew him in. He wanted—no, needed—to tell her. But what would that do to him?
“I’m sorry I brought it up.” She reached out and patted his arm. An innocent enough gesture, but it sent a shock up his arm and jolted his lips loose.
“I lost my wife, Charlotte, and our baby boy six years ago.” Had it been that long already? His stomach trembled like an earthquake.
“I’m sorry.”
“There are other reasons, too, why I’ve dedicated my life to medicine. I lost my father to a farm accident when I was a young boy. My grandmother was a midwife, and in the midst of our grief, she taught me about the use of herbs and plants for healing. It kept me occupied, and her as well, I’m sure. Over the years, we worked together in our small farming community. Eventually, I lost her too, but God had planted the seed in my life to be a doctor.”
“How did you meet Charlotte?”
Oh, what a sweet memory. He smiled. He wrapped up the sphygmomanometer and placed it back in his bag. “We were neighbors. Our fathers owned farms next to each other. She began to follow me around when she was barely as tall as the wheat. We were the only two children within miles, so naturally, we did most everything together. She bugged me with thousands of questions every day, and she would say that I was mean to her and stole her ribbons.”
“Sounds like the two of you were meant for each other.”
Another stab to his heart. “Yes. We were.” He shuffled things around in his bag to avoid looking at her. What would she see? That he’d come to care for Whitney so much he couldn’t fathom the thought of losing her too? What if he failed her as he’d failed Charlotte?
Peter seemed to be a natural with the dogs and sled. He had a keen sense of balance and managed the team as if he’d been doing it most of his life. Whitney had never known anyone to take to driving a team so easily.
When they were still a good ten miles from Nome, Whitney slowed her dogs and brought them to a stop. Peter did likewise, and when he saw her set her hook, he followed suit.
“I thought this was a good place to rest for the final leg.” She pushed back her parka hood and raised her snow glasses. “How are you doing?”
“I think I’ve got the hang of it, for the most part. Sometimes I’m given to daydreaming, but I learned quick enough that’s a mistake. I nearly fell off the sled.”
“Yes, you have to be aware of the dogs every minute. They can get easily distracted too, so you mustn’t. Now’s a good time to check each of your dogs. Make sure their feet are good. Check to see that the harnesses aren’t rubbing sores on them and are sound all the way around. I had one snap on me once. Made a mess of things.”
They went down the line as Peter checked each of the dogs and every inch of the lines. Whitney could see he was meticulous—like a doctor with a patient. She smiled to herself. She liked his no-nonsense manner. He was like her in that. When things required seriousness, he gave it. When there was room for more levity, he gave that.
What’s more, and she couldn’t believe this was true, she was comfortable with him. She felt safe with Peter.
“There, that’s done.” He straightened and smiled. “All is well!”
“You did a great job.”
“I had a great teacher.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
She couldn’t help but grin. “Now you may check my team.”
“Yes, ma’am!” He walked over to her team and began the inspection.
Whitney followed him and kept her gaze on all that he did. He managed it just as she would have. He was a quick learner.
“That’s that. Again, looks good.”
She smiled. “Nicely done. You have a real touch with them.” She turned to walk back, but the toe of her boot hit something. Before she realized what was happening, she started to fall.
Peter reached out in a flash and caught her. As he pulled her to his chest, Whitney looked up to find her lips inches from his. Their eyes locked, and for a moment Whitney was paralyzed. But not in that fearful way she had known with Garrett Sinclair.
Although she did find herself trembling.
He stepped back and righted her as if nothing had happened. The perfect gentleman.
For the first time, she wasn’t grateful. In fact, as unbelievable as it was . . . she was disappointed.
“Thank you.” She forced her thoughts into place. “We better get moving.”
Hurrying past him, she straightened her coat and then pulled the hook for her sled from the snow. “Let’s go!” she commanded her team.
Peter would have to catch up. She needed a moment to clear her head. No doubt the dogs would be straining at the harness to follow her. After several breaths, she glanced back.
Peter was fine. He’d managed to maneuver quickly, and his team wasn’t too far behind.
Her feelings were so muddled. What had happened? That moment in Peter’s arms had been . . . well . . . amazing. Wonderful.
They took a turn, and without her thoughts on the task at hand, she nearly lost her balance when the basket listed to the left.
That was close. She needed to focus. Plenty of time to think about what happened later.
A shout rent the air.
Whitney glanced back to see the dogs pulling an empty sled.
“Whoa!” she called to her team. It took a moment, but they halted. She threw out her hook and grabbed hold of Peter’s lead dog almost in the same motion. “Whoa.”
Peter was already on his feet and running after the sled. He caught up to them and grabbed the hook from his sled and set it in place, then made his way toward her, dusting off his clothes as he walked. “Sorry about that.”
“Are you okay? You’re not injured, are you?” She put a hand to her chest.
“Nothing’s wounded but my pride.” His smile stretched across his face, and he shook his head with a laugh.
“What happened?” She’d nearly lost control on that turn as well.
Peter brushed more snow off his arms and legs. He gave a shrug. “Daydreaming.” He returned his gaze to hers and gave a sheepish smile. His hat was askew, and it made him look like a little boy who’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Whitney broke into laughter. Had he been daydreaming about the same thing she had? Their closeness was hard to forget.
What would it have been like if he’d followed it with a kiss?
Morning light broke through Whitney’s window. She pushed up to sit in her bed and blinked away the vestiges of sleep. It was so good to be home. What time was it?
Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she stretched and then looked at the clock. After eleven in the morning! Good heavens.
She jumped up and raced around to gather her clothes.
A knock sounded at her door.
“Come in.” She pulled her dressing gown over her frame and tied the sash.
“Morning, sis.” Madysen peeked through the doorway and then carried in a wooden tray. “I brought you some eggs and biscuits.” Her tiny feet padded around the bed toward her.
“Thank you. I can’t believe I slept this late.”
Maddy set the tray on the end of the bed. “Oh, I can. It was late by the time you made it home last night, and from what Dad told us, you probably haven’t slept the past week.”
She shrugged. “I have to admit you’re right. But it felt good to help Peter minister to those men.” Whitney climbed back up on her bed and tugged the tray closer as her stomach rumbled. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.” Maddy climbed onto the bed facing her. “You look rested.”
Whitney pushed her hair out of her face and realized her braid had come undone in the night. She must have slept hard. “I feel rested.”
Her youngest sister leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “It’s good to have you home.”
With a squeeze, she patted Madysen’s hand. “I can honestly say I’m glad to be home.” She sighed. “I’m sorry for my behavior lately. I don’t know what’s been wrong . . . but Dad and I talked.”
“Wow. Like . . . talk talked?” Her sister’s eyes were wide. “That’s a first.” Her hand shot over her mouth. “Sorry.”
“That’s all right.” Whitney shrugged and let out a small laugh. “I guess it is pretty shocking after how I’ve treated him. But yes . . . talk talked.”
“Are things better between you?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since. But I will admit that he gave me a lot to think about. That and, well . . . Peter.”
“Does that mean that you’ve come to care for the good doctor?” The sly grin on her sister’s face caught her by surprise.
“No.” She put a hand to her chest. Even if she admitted it was true, there wasn’t any way he could ever feel the same for her. Not after what he’d shared about Charlotte. Whitney could never measure up to his soul mate. “Not like that. But he is a good friend.” It was best for her to keep reminding herself of that. “Besides, I’ve allowed Judas to court me.”
For the first time in several days, her mouth watered with the craving for a swig of whiskey.
Ever since she’d handed over her flask to Peter and the reality of her actions had hit her square in the face, she had been able to push it from her mind. So why had it come back with such a vengeance now?
“He asked about you several times while you were gone.”
Whitney refocused on her sister. “Who?”
“Judas, silly.”
“Oh.” She took a bite of biscuit to cover her lack of interest. She might be courting the man, but that didn’t mean she was in love with him. In fact, she’d hardly thought about him while she was gone. What did that say about her?
A change of subject was in order. “How’s Ruth doing?”
“Losing Stan hit her hard, even though I think a part of her expected the news. Dad has been so gentle with her, but Eli and Bethany also took it hard. They grew up with their uncle around. Ruth cries herself to sleep every night and misses her children terribly. That’s the one thing that I think can fill the hole. But you know as well as I do there’s no chance she will be able to see them until the first ship comes in and she can go home.”
Whitney gasped. “She won’t leave, will she?”
“At this point, I think she wants to be with her children. And who could blame her?”
“I can’t imagine what she is going through.” Whitney rubbed her forehead as the throbbing in her head started up. “Could you bring me some hot water?”
“To wash your hands?”
“No. I forgot to tell you that Peter thinks my headaches are made worse by hypertension. Something to do with the pressure in my blood? Anyway, he’s had me grinding up snakeroot into a powder and mixing it with hot water. It seems to be helping, and I have to admit, I’m feeling better than I have since the attack.”
“That’s great, Whit.” Maddy hopped off the bed. “I’ll bring you a cup of hot water right away.”
“Thanks, sis.” While she was gone, Whitney dug into her food.
A light tap on her door. “Whitney?”
Eli’s sweet voice.
“Come on in.”
He opened it a crack and sent her a smile. “I heard you were back.”
“I am.” Her cheeks lifted with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
He ventured in another foot. “I’ve been helping John with the dogs.”
“Thank you. I bet they love attention from you.” She pointed her fork at him before taking another bite.
His nod was enthusiastic and made his hair fall into his eyes. Poor kid. He needed a haircut. “Do you think you could teach me about driving the sled so maybe I could help you raise and train your next litters?”
“Ah . . . so John spilled the beans, didn’t he? You know we’ve got three pregnant mamas.”
Another nod, with a grin that almost reached his ears.
“I would love to teach you. As long as you get your schoolwork and your other chores done.” After she took a sip of orange juice, she lifted her glass to him. “How about I meet you out there in an hour? We’ll get started right away.”
“Thank you! I’ll be ready.” He ran out the door and almost knocked Maddy down.
Her sister watched their younger brother as he ran. “You made his day brighter, that’s for certain.” She offered a piece of paper. “This arrived for you.”
As she took the envelope, she hoped it was from Peter. Maybe he needed her again.
But when she unfolded the paper, she found an invitation to dinner from Judas. Why was she disappointed? A rich, kind man wanted to spoil her with another lavish meal. She should be ecstatic.
She held up the paper for Maddy to read.
Her younger sister’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Well . . . are you going to go?”
NINETEEN
A week had passed since Whitney turned down Judas’s invitation to dinner, citing that with Ruth finding out about her husband, the family was deep in mourning. Guilt had riddled her for the exploitation of Ruth’s pain, but she hadn’t been ready to face Judas quite yet.
Then this morning, another invitation came. She’d gone straight out to the dogs and began mucking the stalls. Maybe clarity would descend on her with the hard work.
Peter had been correct in his diagnosis: As long as she took the snakeroot morning and evening, she felt better. But the whiskey bottle under her bed still called her name. And a few times, she’d given in. Much to her shame.
Shaking her head against the condemning thoughts, she shoveled out the soiled hay twice as fast. It made her arms and back burn. The best thing she could do was to lock the bottle up and give the key to someone else.
“Have you decided how to respond?” Havyn propped her elbows on the fence.
Whitney put a hand to her chest. “Gracious, you might be growing in size, but I think you’re getting stealthier. You scared me.”
Havyn’s laugh echoed through the barn. “Maybe you were deep in thought. I don’t think there’s any way I’m stealthy. If anything, I’m growing clumsier by the day.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Now back to the question . . .”
“Can’t get anything past you, can I?”
“Nope.”
She let out a long sigh. “All right. What do you think about inviting Judas out here for dinner?”
“We’ve had him over hundreds of times over the years. That’s not a problem at all.”
“I know. But this time, it would be different . . . don’t you think? Since we’re courting and all?”
Havyn waved it off. “I think it’s a perfect idea. Especially if you’re thinking of him seriously . . . we better get used to having him around.”
“All right then. Decision made. I’ll send a note back inviting him here for dinner.” But she didn’t want to. Not really.
“I’ll let the family know.” Havyn waved and headed back toward the house as if nothing was strange or awkward.
Whitney’s stomach did little flips inside her. Why was she so nervous?
Hours later, she’d worked herself into a frenzy. Head throbbing, she headed to the bath chamber inside the house. Maybe a long, hot soak would ease the tension.
In the tub, her thoughts went back to Mama. And then Granddad. Then images of Garrett Sinclair tortured her. As she shivered in the water, she couldn’t get the thought of his tight grasp on her out of her mind.
So she scrubbed her skin as hard as she could with the soap. Then dunked her head and scrubbed her hair. Envisioned washing him away like that dirt.
What she really wanted was to go back to her room and hide for the rest of the evening. Tuck the bottle of whiskey into bed with her and try to forget her troubles.
