Page 10 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Ten

Joanna smiled as she laid her hand on her stomach. There was no change on the outside. It was too soon for that, but she could no longer ignore the nausea that plagued her every morning, leaving her feeling both weak and hopeful. If what she thought was true, one of her dreams would come true.

She descended the stairs carefully, not wanting to stumble if her legs refused to support her, then entered the kitchen. As she’d hoped, both of her sisters were there, Emily stirring what appeared to be pancake batter while Louisa sipped a cup of coffee.

“Is something wrong? You look terribly pale.” Louisa gave her a professional appraisal.

Sinking onto a chair, Joanna shook her head. “I think something might be very right. I think I may be pregnant. How do I know for sure?”

Louisa took the chair next to her, reached for her hand, checked her pulse, then began asking questions, including whether Joanna had found herself on the verge of tears more often than normal. When she finished, her eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “I usually suggest an examination to be certain, but from what you’ve said, I have no doubts. You’re going to be a mother early next May.”

Emily, who’d been listening carefully, nodding at many of Joanna’s answers, abandoned her cooking to give Joanna a big hug. “What wonderful news! I’m so happy for you. Just think, our children will grow up together.”

Even though she’d been fairly confident of the reason for her nausea, having it confirmed made Joanna’s mind whirl, and she was suddenly beset with worries. Was she ready to be a mother? Would she be a good one? What would it be like raising a child in a house where she felt like a boarder? Was that fair to her baby? And then there was the biggest question, the one she hesitated to voice, even to herself.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” Joanna told her sisters. “Kurt and I were married such a short time that when I started feeling ill, I thought it was something I’d eaten or some kind of virus. I even worried that I might be like Kurt’s first wife who sometimes imagined she was ill.”

“What you’re feeling is not imaginary,” Louisa assured her.

Emily nodded in agreement before turning back to her cooking. “Some people conceive on their wedding night. Oh, Joanna, this is wonderful news.”

Joanna smiled at her sister’s apparent need to repeat herself. “It is wonderful and I’m excited, but it would be better if Kurt were here to share the excitement.” The excitement and more, much more.

Biting her lip as the worries roiled through her, Joanna decided it was time to share her greatest fear. “I’m afraid of what it will be like for my child not having a father.” Though Burke had never referred to the loss of his father, Joanna knew how much the absence of a father had weighed on many of her classmates, particularly the boys. The horrible war that had divided the nation had created far too many widows and fatherless children.

“I won’t suggest you marry again to give your child a father.” Emily flicked a drop of water onto the skillet to test its heat. “Craig told me how much he hated it when well-meaning people claimed he owed it to Noah to find a new wife.”

“But he did,” Joanna reminded her. “Although seeing you two together tells me you married for love, not duty.”

Emily smiled. “We did, but coming back to you, even though Kurt is gone, Craig and Josh will be part of your baby’s life.”

“He or she will never lack for love.” This time it was Louisa who added confirmation.

It wouldn’t be the same, and yet having uncles close by would have to be enough, because like Craig, Joanna had no intention of marrying simply to give her child a father.

“The baby is a gift,” she told her sisters. “It’s a part of Kurt that I never dreamed I’d have, and it’ll have the two best aunts any child could ever want.” She paused, then corrected herself. “Three aunts. Wait until Marta hears.” She’d write her sister-in-law a letter after breakfast. “My baby’s going to have aunts on two continents.”

“You’ll be a great mother.”

Though Joanna hoped Louisa was right, she couldn’t dismiss her concerns so easily. Raising a child alone would be far more difficult than it would have been if Kurt had lived. Still, the thought of the life growing inside her filled her with joy.

“If I’m half as good as our mother, the baby will be blessed.” Joanna already was. Instead of the happy ending she’d sought, she’d been given a happy beginning.

“Is there something I should know about your sister?” Burke asked Louisa after they’d entered the office. “All the while we were eating those delicious pancakes, you and Emily looked like you were having trouble keeping a secret. I doubt it had anything to do with the new combination of spices Emily tried.”

The way Louisa kept her attention focused on the shutters she’d just opened told Burke he was correct in his assumption, but she said only, “Nothing I can tell you right now.”

“I see.” Unless he was mistaken, his suspicion that Joanna was pregnant was correct. Burke’s stomach clenched at the realization that, like him, this child would grow up without a father, then relaxed a bit as he thought of Craig and Josh. In the few days he’d been in Sweetwater Crossing, he’d seen how Josh had treated Noah and knew that he’d be a good uncle to Joanna’s child. And Craig would undoubtedly lavish love on her baby just as he did on his son and would on the child Emily was carrying. Though she lacked a husband, Joanna would not be raising her child alone.

When Louisa turned and walked toward her desk, Burke settled into the chair on the opposite side that he’d claimed as his own. “If you won’t answer questions, maybe I can. Is there anything I can tell you?”

Louisa shrugged, her smile wry. “I already know what you’re going to say, but I’ll ask again. How do I convince men that I’m competent enough to treat them?”

If she’d asked about a specific ailment, he could have given her a definitive response. As it was, all Burke could say was, “I wish I could encourage you, but you and I both know that some people will never change their minds, no matter what the evidence says.” People like the residents of Samuels who hadn’t valued his opinion because they’d known him since he was in diapers. Though they hadn’t been numerous, they had been vocal. Burke had thought he’d accepted their lack of trust, but it had rankled when they’d sought Felix’s help instead of his.

“Then my best hope is that the town will hire a male doctor who’ll let me work alongside him. I know I still have more to learn. If he’s like Austin—he’s the doctor in Cimarron Creek who taught me so much—he could be my mentor.”

Though Burke hated to discourage her, he felt compelled to say, “Not everyone is capable or willing to be a mentor.” The majority of the men he’d met in medical college would have refused to work with a woman, declaring that women had no business trying to be doctors.

“But you’ve proven you’re both willing and capable.” Louisa raised an eyebrow. “Is there any chance I could convince you to be that doctor?”

“I’m afraid not. Even if Della decides to stay, I’ll be leaving when our two weeks are over.” Being a small-town doctor was not the right life for him. The past six months in Samuels had proven that. It was time to move on, to find a city that felt like home, and learn whether he was the man who could discover a way to prevent pneumonia.

Once again, Louisa flashed a wry smile. “I was afraid you’d say that. As punishment for not agreeing, you’ll have to listen to me play the piano.”

“I never realized you were vindictive,” Burke said with a short laugh as Louisa rose and headed for the storage room where the piano was housed, “but I can’t believe it will be so bad. If you have even a fraction of Joanna’s talent, it’ll be a pleasant experience.”

It was not. The piano was in desperate need of tuning, and Louisa hit more wrong than right notes. Still, Burke said nothing. Living with two sisters had taught him the folly of appearing to take a woman’s bait.

A minute later, although it felt like much longer, the noise—he wouldn’t dignify it by calling it music—stopped, and Louisa returned to the office.

“Either you’re partially deaf or you were plugging your ears. Still, I give you credit for not demanding I stop massacring the music.”

“It’s your office.”

“But those were your ears that were being assailed. I won’t subject you to that again. The piano was worse than I expected. It needs Joanna’s help.”

Louisa settled behind the desk and began sorting through the mail she’d picked up at the post office this morning. “There’s a package for you.” She held out a thick envelope.

Burke nodded when he recognized the handwriting and smiled when he opened the package. “It’s two more medical journals. I didn’t expect Felix to send them since I’m only going to be here a short time, but I’m glad he did. I almost always find something of value in them, and even though you did torture me, I’m happy to share these with you.”

He opened the first and scanned the table of contents, his attention caught by an article titled “Physician Searches for Means of Preventing Pneumonia.” His heart pounding with anticipation, Burke began to read, anticipation turning to excitement. This was more than he’d hoped for. He read the article a second time, taking note of everything it said and what was not said.

Burke wanted to move to a large city, one far from Samuels. Dr. Fielding, the subject of the article, lived in San Francisco. Burke wanted to create a vaccine to prevent pneumonia. So did Dr. Fielding. The California physician was working alone. Though Burke had expected to do the same, he knew that two minds were better than one, particularly for research and experimentation. There was no mention of Dr. Fielding wanting or needing an assistant, but the doctor had only begun to explore possibilities. An assistant could help with that work and perhaps contribute new ideas.

Would the man even consider someone with no credentials other than a degree and a burning desire to find a way to prevent a dreaded disease? There was only one way to know. As Burke reached for a piece of paper and his pen, he tried to picture himself in San Francisco. He’d heard the city had many hills. Would Joanna like them? They wouldn’t be like the mountains she’d seen in Switzerland, but they might remind her of the Hill Country.

He shook his head at his foolishness. Why was he imagining himself and Joanna together in San Francisco? Even though she’d traveled to Europe, she had no reason to leave Sweetwater Crossing. This was her home. This was where her family lived. This was where she would raise her child. Only a deluded man would think otherwise.

“I’m so glad you could all join us,” Mrs. Albright said after she’d greeted Joanna, Della, and Burke. “Wilbur and I’ve been looking forward to this evening.”

Like Joanna and Della, Mrs. Albright had dressed for the occasion, choosing a gown of almost the same shade of silver gray as her hair. Della had donned a blue plaid taffeta dress trimmed with navy blue velvet ribbon, while Joanna wore the black silk gown she and Grandmother had chosen for her performances. Though black, it wasn’t a mourning gown and evoked only pleasant memories.

“I’m happy to be here,” Joanna told Mrs. Albright. And she was, for she wanted to learn as much as she could about Clive Finley’s time in Sweetwater Crossing. Perhaps one of the Albrights’ recollections would help her discover who’d sent that letter of lies. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Thank you, but no. Gertrude’s assisting me. Wilbur and Thomas are in the parlor.” Mrs. Albright tipped her head toward the doorway on the right. “Wilbur’s most anxious to meet you, Miss Samuels.”

Though Joanna hadn’t realized the Albrights would invite their daughter and son-in-law, it was a thoughtful gesture, since Gertrude had known Clive and might have more memories to share with Della than she had that day at the ranch.

As Della, Burke, and Joanna entered the parlor, Mr. Albright and Thomas rose. “Welcome to Sweetwater Crossing, Miss Samuels.” The older man smiled as he extended his hand to Della. “Clive spoke of you so often that I almost feel as if I know you.”

When the greetings were completed, Della took the seat their host indicated, smoothing her skirts as she said, “I wish he’d been a better correspondent. When Clive did write, those letters included apologies for their brevity and infrequency. Most of what he told me was about the house and the delays when some of the building materials were stolen.”

Mr. Albright frowned for a second, then nodded. “It’s been so long that I’d forgotten that. Clive was perplexed by the thefts because of what was taken. As I recall, there was some crown molding, some wainscoting, even a piece or two of furniture. He said he could understand the missing furniture, because that could be easily resold, but there wasn’t enough molding or wainscoting for even a small room, so he had no idea why anyone had taken it.”

Thomas appeared surprised by the revelation. “I never heard anything about thefts.”

“That’s because Clive didn’t want it to be common knowledge.” Thomas’s father-in-law nodded slowly. “He feared that might encourage the thief to continue. After that, Clive spent more time there, overseeing even the smallest of details.”

Joanna nodded at the new insights into the man who’d built her home. While she didn’t understand his desire for secrecy about the missing items, she did understand his desire for perfection. First Miss Heppel, then Herr Ridel and the European maestros had pointed out that a single wrong note ruined a whole piece of music.

“That’s why everything about Finley House turned out so well,” she said. “My parents never stopped marveling at its beauty.”

Burke, who’d been sitting silently, spoke. “You said my uncle spent a lot of time at the house, but he must have done other things. What were they?”

Before Mr. Albright could respond, his wife stood in the doorway. “Supper is ready. You can continue your discussion in the dining room. Now come. Let’s eat.”

As Joanna had expected, the meal was delicious. Roast chicken was accompanied by scalloped potatoes, green beans, yeast rolls, and peach jam.

“Thank you for serving chicken, Mother Albright,” Thomas said as he helped himself to a particularly large serving. “Not keeping the chickens is the only disagreement Gertrude and I have had.”

Joanna’s former teacher wrinkled her nose. “I spent too many years getting pecked when I collected eggs to want to ever do it again, and even though I despised those chickens, I didn’t like wringing their necks.”

“This is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Mrs. Albright chided her daughter. “Wilbur and I were happy to bring the chickens when we moved here permanently.”

“I don’t miss them,” Gertrude said firmly, “but Enoch does, doesn’t he, dear?” She turned toward her husband.

“I suspect the attraction is the other horses.” Thomas looked around the table, as if gauging everyone’s reaction to the discussion. “Enoch’s my horse, a gift from Gertrude’s parents. He’s an excellent mount, but horses are herd animals, and his herd are the two horses that used to share the stable with him.” A chuckle accompanied Thomas’s words. “When we get close to this house, he picks up his pace, clearly anxious to be with his former stablemates.”

Mrs. Albright’s expression left no doubt that she considered horses almost as unacceptable a topic of conversation as chickens. In an attempt to appease her hostess, Joanna said, “This is the best jam I’ve ever tasted.”

“Thank you, Joanna. It’s my mother’s recipe.”

Gertrude passed the plate of jam to Burke. “Clive, I told my mother we needed to serve it tonight, because I remembered how much you enjoyed it.”

Joanna saw Burke’s momentary confusion before he realized that Gertrude had mistaken him for his dead uncle, but it was Della who spoke. “Burke,” she said, emphasizing his name, “isn’t one for preserves. I, on the other hand, believe good jam makes even the best of rolls even better.”

Burke shrugged. “We didn’t have fruit trees, and even if we had, my mother wouldn’t have had time to make preserves. She did make the finest butter in the county, so I grew up buttering my rolls.”

“Then you’ll want this, Burke.” Gertrude passed him the butter dish. “I apologize for calling you Clive. It’s simply that you look so much like him, and you’re sitting where he did all those years ago.”

“My daughter’s right,” Mrs. Albright said. “I had the same reaction when I first saw you. I thought you were your uncle. And now seeing you here takes me back in time.”

Mr. Albright nodded in agreement with his wife. “It was a privilege to know Clive. I often thought of him as the son I never had—a man of high morals.”

“You’re right.” Mrs. Albright stopped spreading jam on her roll and looked directly at Burke. “He was unfailingly polite but never let his head be turned by all the attention the girls paid him.”

“No, indeed. The only company he kept was with Joanna’s father, Doc Sheridan, and me.” A look of pure nostalgia crossed Mr. Albright’s face. “Saturday evenings were the highlight of the week for us.”

“Did you have supper together?”

Mr. Albright shook his head at Burke’s question. “Doc and the preacher ate with their families. Clive stayed here with us. The four of us met afterwards to smoke a cigar or pipe and talk about the week we’d had and what was in store for the next week.” He looked at his son-in-law. “It probably sounds boring to you young folks, but we enjoyed it.”

“Not boring, sir. Gertrude and I have similar conversations each evening, don’t we, honey?”

She nodded, then began asking Burke for his impressions of Sweetwater Crossing. It was only when they’d finished dessert that her father spoke again.

“Have I waited long enough?” he asked his wife.

“Yes, Wilbur.” She gave him a fond smile before addressing Della. “I told him I didn’t want anything to interfere with our meal.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about that letter you received.” Mr. Albright continued the explanation. “I hope you brought it with you.”

“I did. It’s in my reticule.”

And that was hanging on the coat-tree in the hallway along with her cloak.

“Then let’s adjourn to the parlor.” Mrs. Albright rose. “We can see it better there.”

When they were all seated, Della opened her reticule and withdrew the worn envelope, handing it to Mr. Albright. He studied it, then gave it to his wife, who scrutinized it as carefully as he had. When she shook her head slightly, he spoke.

“Nothing in that letter is true. I don’t understand who would have sent it or why.”

He was saying nothing Della didn’t already know. Joanna watched as the older woman did her best to hide her disappointment. “Does the penmanship look familiar?” she asked.

“Not to me,” Mr. Albright was quick to respond.

“Nor to me.” His wife handed the letter to Thomas. “I doubt you can help Miss Samuels, but would you look at it?”

He gave it a cursory glance, then shook his head. “I never saw anyone write quite like that. What about you, Gertrude? You’ve taught penmanship. Does anything look familiar to you?”

Though her study was more thorough than her husband’s, the answer was the same. “I certainly never taught anyone to write like that. And, Thomas, you know our schoolmaster would have sent us to the dunce stool if we’d crossed our T’s that way.” She turned to Della. “I’m sorry, Della. I know you’d hoped for a different answer.”

Her disappointment now clearly visible, Della turned to Burke, leaving him to be the one who said, “It appears we’ve reached another dead end.”

“I know I’ve said it before, but I want to say it again. I’m so happy that we’re both expecting babies next year.” Emily smiled at Joanna as the two of them washed breakfast dishes.

They’d spent an uneventful Sunday. Della had been quieter than usual, perhaps still troubled by the lack of new information about Clive. To Joanna’s relief, she’d seemed to have regained her normal enthusiasm this morning and was humming softly when she left to open the library. With everyone else gone, Joanna and Emily had the house to themselves, something that had rarely happened when they were growing up.

In typical oldest sister fashion, Emily directed the conversation. After she’d asked about Joanna’s morning sickness, she’d reiterated her excitement over their pregnancies.

It was exciting that they could share their experiences, and yet ... Joanna asked the question that had plagued her for days. “Do you suppose Louisa feels left out?”

Emily’s smile faded ever so slightly. “I hope not. She and Josh have only been married a few months, and not everyone conceives as quickly as you and I did.”

But that hadn’t happened during Emily’s first marriage. Joanna wouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “I’m surprised you and George didn’t have any children. Remember how he used to ask me to play Brahms’s Lullaby?”

He’d sat on the bench next to Joanna, his smile so warm that she—foolish, foolish girl—had believed he was as attracted to her as she was to him, but like Clive Finley, George had had eyes for only one.

“When I asked him why he wanted to hear that song so often, George said it was one he hoped to sing to his babies. That made me think he was eager for children.”

Emily turned to stare at the back door, her lips tightening with what appeared to be discomfort. “He was,” she admitted, “but it didn’t happen. Let’s talk about happier things. Have you thought about names for your baby?”