Tabitha: Bride of Missouri (American Mail-Order Bride 24) Page 10

  “Thank you. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful.” Tabitha sank into the chair nearest the fireplace and cradled her cup between her hands.

  “You don’t seem ungrateful at all. You’re worried about your loved ones.” Mrs. Gideon sniffed the air. “You know, that tea smells good. I do believe I’ll join you.”

  Tabitha didn’t know if it was the warmth of the tea, the softness of the chair, or the time of night, but within minutes, she found herself fighting to keep her eyes open.

  “Why don’t you take a little rest, dear? I’m sure the doctor’s doing everything he can back at your place, and your cousin will most likely need you to spell her off tomorrow. Close your eyes—I’ll let you know as soon as the doctor comes back.”

  Nothing sounded more wonderful. Tabitha leaned her head against the side of the wing-back chair and fell asleep.

  True to her word, Mrs. Gideon touched her shoulder about an hour later. “The doctor’s buggy just pulled up,” she said.

  Tabitha straightened, instantly wide awake. The doctor walked in a moment later and grabbed the fireplace poker, bringing the embers back to life and then throwing a few small bits of wood on top. Once the fire was going again, he turned to Tabitha, a sober expression on his face.

  “Herbert has experienced an episode with his heart. He’s resting comfortably now, but he’ll be incapacitated for some time, and may actually never be fully functional again. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  Tabitha stared at him, trying to understand what he’d just said, but the words wouldn’t sink in. “His heart?”

  “That’s right. I believe the emotional burdens he’s been carrying as of late have taxed him too greatly. He wasn’t strong to begin with—he’s seen me several times for an irregular heartbeat. I’m sorry, Miss Phillips, but you should prepare yourself for the worst, and be there for your cousin as she does the same.”

  Tabitha turned her gaze to the fire. The flames danced merrily now, a complete contradiction to the tone in the room. “I see. What can we do for him?”

  “Spoon him broth, read to him, keep him company. As the days go by, I will evaluate his progress. I wish I had some definite prognosis, but I don’t.” He gave her a compassionate look. “Come now. I’ve left the buggy out front, and I’m going to give you a ride home. You’re not fit to walk, and I refuse to have two patients at your house instead of just one.”

  Mrs. Gideon wrapped a thick quilt around Tabitha’s shoulders. “Take care, dear. And get some rest.”

  All the way home, Tabitha kept that quilt pulled tight around her neck, but she doubted she would have felt the cold anyway. She felt numb, utterly numb—in her thoughts, in her body, in her soul. She’d known Herbert was ill—that was obvious—but she hadn’t realized that it would change his entire life, or perhaps even take his life.

  When they arrived at the post office, she thanked the doctor, left the quilt in the buggy, and ran inside. She closed and locked the door, then climbed the staircase, dreading whatever she was about to see.

  Clara sat beside the bed she shared with her husband, holding his hand while he gently snored. The tracks of tears ran down her cheeks, although the tears themselves had dried. She turned as Tabitha approached.

  “I didn’t want to marry him,” she said, her voice so low, Tabitha almost wondered if she’d heard correctly. “But we’d been indiscreet, and I was carrying his child.”

  Tabitha opened her mouth to reply, but she had no words. She was too surprised to know how to respond.

  “So we married, and we moved here so no one would know just when I became with child. But then . . . but then the pregnancy failed.”

  Tabitha closed her eyes against the wave of tears that threatened. Now she understood. Clara’s inability to have children was likely the result of whatever happened with the failed pregnancy. So many things made sense now—her sullenness, her behavior toward Herbert and his toward her, the resentment that sometimes flowed off her like a river.

  “For twenty years, I’ve regretted what happened—regretted that we got involved, that I got pregnant, that we got married. But tonight, I realized something. I realized that I actually love this man, and the thought of losing him . . .”

  Clara’s shoulders shook, and Tabitha reached out and set her hand on her cousin’s shoulder.

  “If he dies, he’ll never know how I feel. I’ll never have a chance to make it up to him, to show how sorry I am.”

  “The doctor seemed to think he’d still be with us for a time,” Tabitha assured her. “He spoke to me about spoon feeding. Would he have done that if he felt Herbert was going to die?” She deliberately said nothing about being told to prepare for the worst. That wasn’t what Clara needed to hear.

  “I don’t know.” Clara wiped her eyes with the handkerchief balled up in her other hand. “I just know that I can’t live without him.”

  Tabitha wished she had words to take away this pain and fear. Instead, she chose to say nothing, but kept her hand on Clara’s shoulder. After a while, Clara lay down next to Herbert, and Tabitha went into her own room. What an awful, terrible pall had fallen over the whole house.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tabitha awoke the next morning with a start. The sun was streaming through her window—it was much later than it should have been. She dressed quickly and ran down the stairs to find Thomas standing on the porch, mail bag slung over his shoulder.

  She unlocked the door and let him in. “Good morning. What’s going on?”

  “Well, I noticed that you weren’t at the station, so I picked up your mail. I hope that’s all right—I’ve probably broken some federal laws, but I knew you needed this bag.”

  “Thank you. Yes, I overslept.” She took the bag and set it on the counter, then put the kettle on the stove. She badly needed some help waking up.

  Thomas leaned on the doorjamb connecting the post office to the house. “What’s the matter, Tabitha?”

  She took a deep breath before answering. “Herbert’s heart. I went for Dr. Gideon in the middle of the night, and he says it’s a matter of waiting to see what happens next. That’s why I overslept—I believe it was nearly time to get up before I finally dozed off.”

  “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “You already helped tremendously by picking up the mail. True, I should have been the one to do it, but I don’t imagine anyone will report you.”

  After the coffee was done, Tabitha and Thomas carried their mugs into the post office, and she sorted through the mail. Of course, the outgoing mail hadn’t made it to the train, but she’d take it the next day and hope that the short delay wouldn’t cause any problems.

  Only a few minutes had gone by before Mrs. Smith bustled in, holding the door open. In came the grocer, followed by several of the ladies of the town and some of the men, every one of them with their arms piled high with packages.

  “Good morning!” Mrs. Smith said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “Your friends and neighbors here in Atwater heard what happened, and we want to show you our love and support.”

  “Um, hello, everyone,” Tabitha said, so overwhelmed, she almost couldn’t speak.

  “Now, everyone, tell Tabitha what you’re holding and ask her where to put it,” Mrs. Smith said. “We’re not going to add to her burdens by making a big pile here for her to clean up all by herself.”

  As each person came forward and Tabitha told them where to place their load, she became more and more choked up. Granny Grimes had brought over one of her beautiful quilts. The grocer was donating five dollars’ worth of food—they just needed to let him know what they wanted. Each of the women carried a pie or a loaf of bread or some other good thing for the pantry. Then Pastor Reed came up to the counter—she hadn’t even seen him enter.

  He spoke low. “I’ve been asked to inform you that the doctor bill has been paid in full.”

  “I . . . what? I’m sorry, but can you repeat that?”

  He smiled an
d laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have no doctor bill to pay. Just get whatever care Herbert needs and don’t worry about the cost.”

  “Thank you.” She caught his sleeve as he pulled away. “Please tell whoever it was how much we appreciate it.”

  “I will.”

  By the time the crowd left, gifts had been delivered to the kitchen, the root cellar, and the post office counter. The quilt had been draped over a living room chair, and a beautiful bouquet of fall flowers sat in the middle of the table. Everywhere Tabitha looked, she saw evidence of the goodness in people’s hearts. She had to keep wiping tears away at the wonder of it.

  A moment later, she heard someone coming down the stairs, and Clara emerged in the post office. “What on earth . . . I woke up to hear voices down here, and it looks like Christmas came early.”

  Tabitha grinned. “So many people came and brought gifts. Food and just everything.” She glanced over at Thomas, who had been standing in the corner to be out of the way of all the well-wishers. “And the best news of all.” She put her arm around Clara’s shoulders. “Someone paid the doctor bill in full. You’re not to worry about it for one more minute.”

  Clara’s knees gave way, and Tabitha helped her over to the counter. “Oh, heaven be praised,” Clara whispered as she leaned against the support. “Thank you, God.”

  Thomas spoke up. “I’d like to offer whatever help I can, too—I know I’m not authorized to work in the post office per se, but I can sweep and do whatever odd jobs you might have for me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Clara said. “It’s much appreciated.”

  Tabitha smiled at him, hoping to convey her gratitude, then turned back to Clara. “What would you like for breakfast? We have bread, rolls, pie, cake, some sliced meat—nearly anything you can imagine.”

  Clara chuckled and shook her head at the same time. “I can hardly believe it. Start with coffee and go from there.”

  Tabitha poured her a cup while Clara stared at the pantry shelves.

  “Well, I will say this,” Clara said after a long moment. “This beats your Miss Atwater prize all hollow.”

  “Yes, it does,” Tabitha said, and they both burst into laughter.

  ***

  Clara stayed by Herbert’s side the remainder of the day while Tabitha ran the post office downstairs. Thomas stayed to help, although that mostly consisted of chatting with Tabitha between tasks. Everyone who came in expressed their concern and sent their wishes for a speedy recovery, and Tabitha promised to deliver the messages. She’d also stepped over to the saloon to let them know what had happened and that Clara wouldn’t be in. The owner handed her a few dollars for Clara’s pay and asked Tabitha to keep him updated. So much kindness from so many sources.

  When at last it was time to close up for the night, Tabitha was overwhelmed with relief. Too little sleep the night before, too much excitement during the day, plus the lingering concern about Herbert, and she was ready to crawl into bed. However, when Thomas suggested that they take a walk, she agreed, ready for some fresh air and a change of scenery.

  “I feel so very foolish,” she said as they headed up the street. “I never realized just how good and kind the people of this town can be. When I moved here, I was so wrapped up in my grief that I couldn’t see their kind intentions for what they were. I’ve misjudged Atwater entirely.”

  “You said something similar in your Miss Atwater speech,” he reminded her.

  “True, but I don’t believe I understood just how wrong I was until today.” She shook her head, chagrined. “The day I arrived when I was ten, several people came to welcome me. I remembered that just now. The schoolteacher, the pastor at the time, several mothers with girls my age. I don’t think I even said hello to them. I was so ungrateful.”

  “You said it yourself—you were grieving.” Thomas took her elbow and steered her around a patch of mud. “And you were a child.”

  “Yes, but still, I could have accepted their friendship.” Another memory flickered through her mind. Darcy had come to visit with some of the other little girls, and Tabitha had refused to speak to them. Perhaps that was why Darcy had always treated her poorly afterwards. “I’m going to stop holding back and really get to know them.”

  “I think you’ll be a lot happier.”

  “I do too.”

  They had walked around the block and were now in front of the post office again. Tabitha leaned against the fence, so tired. “Thank you for all you’ve done today.”

  He laughed. “I really did very little.”

  “You were my friend. It means a lot to me that you’d take time away from your project to make sure we were all right.”

  The wind picked up again and blew a lock of hair into Tabitha’s face. Thomas reached out with his casted hand and brushed the hair back over her ear, then froze, a look of pure astonishment on his face.

  “Tabitha, I can move my fingers!”

  “What? Show me!”

  He held up his hand, and his fingers twitched. Then they curled and straightened.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he said, wonder in his voice. “I just . . . well, I’m right-handed, so I used that hand without even thinking about it, and it worked.”

  Tabitha threw her arms around him in celebration. “I’m so happy for you,” she said in his ear. Then she stepped back and pinned him with a look. “So, now are you going to write your parents?”

  He laughed. “You would really like me to do that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I just feel that if you have parents, you should talk to them once in a while,” she said, looking away. She was so tired. She hadn’t meant to become emotional, but a tear slipped down her cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Tabitha. I wasn’t even thinking. I promise, I’ll write to them tomorrow.”

  “All right. Just be sure that you do.” She smiled, trying to offset the tears. “Goodnight. I really need to go to sleep.”

  Thomas stood on her sidewalk until she was safely inside, then strolled away. She checked in on Herbert and Clara and then nearly fell onto her bed, fully clothed, and slept the night through.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All the way home, Thomas kept wiggling his fingers, relief and gratitude filling him every time he saw them twitch. He knew the road to recovery would be long, but this gave him hope. He could endure the healing process knowing that when it was over, he’d have the use of his hand. Of course, if he were to lose it, he was sure he’d find ways to adjust, but he liked this outcome so much better.

  When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was to check his fingers, afraid that maybe he’d dreamed the whole thing. No, they still moved, and he grinned. Then he laughed. What a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe Tabitha was his lucky charm—after all, he’d been touching her hair at the time.

  But then his thoughts grew serious. Tabitha. Her hair had been so soft, feather light. He remembered the quick, friendly hug she’d given him, how he’d wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her there. But that was nonsense. He was engaged to Ivy, and Tabitha was just his friend. His good friend, and becoming better all the time, but still, she wasn’t Ivy.

  He was waiting on the sidewalk when Tabitha came out to collect the mail. “Good morning, Miss Atwater,” he greeted. “You look lovely today.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she replied. “I feel like a wrung-out dishrag.”

  He held out his arms to encompass the day. “Nothing a walk won’t cure.”

  She laughed as she fell into step beside him. “I’m not sure I understand this fascination you have with walking.”

  “It clears my head and gives me time to think.”

  “It’s a good thing you moved to Atwater, then. We do a lot of walking here.”

  “Yes, I’m very glad I came.” He glanced over at her, wondering why he was suddenly seeing her in a new way. The little curls by her ears seemed damp, as though she’d just washed her face, and wh
ile she claimed to be tired, her eyes seemed bright. There was that small dimple again, and he directed his gaze back to the road ahead of them. If he kept listing her appealing attributes, he’d become even more confused than he already was.

  When the train arrived, Tabitha handed in the mail and retrieved the new bag, and they turned to head back to the post office. But then Thomas caught sight of a young woman standing on the platform, looking entirely lost, and his heart gave a jolt. He knew her. How . . . It was Ivy!

  He took a stumbling step forward, then another, studying her face just to be sure. Yes, it was the girl from the picture he’d been carrying for months. She was here? Now? She hadn’t said a word—he thought she couldn’t come until January.

  “Ivy?” he called out as he came closer, and she turned toward him. No doubt about it now. It was her.

  “Are you Thomas?” she asked, holding out her hand in greeting.

  “I am. Welcome to Atwater. I had no idea you were coming.”

  She smiled, but then lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. Is there a place we can to go to talk? I have so much to say, and this train station is rather noisy.”

  “Of course.” He took Ivy by the elbow and steered her off to the side. Strangely, he didn’t see Tabitha anywhere. Had she gone on ahead without him? “Do you have baggage?”

  “I do.”

  “Wait here, and I’ll make arrangements for it.”

  Thomas put in the request for Ivy’s things to be taken to the hotel, then drew a deep breath before returning to her side. All these months of daydreaming about her, and now, she was actually here. How had it happened? What had changed her mind?

  “Your trunks will be delivered to the hotel,” he told her, and she nodded with a smile. “Shall we go? It’s only a short stroll from here, and we can talk on the way.”