Page 12 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Twelve

Burke picked up the package he’d put in the back of the buggy, hoping his hostess would be as pleased by it as his patient had predicted. While yesterday had been uneventful, this morning had been busier than he’d expected, because Louisa had asked him to accompany her when she called on a pregnant woman, explaining that the woman’s six-year-old had a sore throat.

“I don’t believe it’s scarlet fever,” she said, “but after Joanna’s experience, I don’t want to take any chances. That’s why I want your opinion.”

Burke had agreed readily, looking forward to the challenge of doing more than removing infected splinters and treating rashes. And, like Louisa, he hoped the child did not have scarlet fever but was prepared to order the household to quarantine if needed. Fortunately, the boy had not contracted the dreaded disease. There was no strawberry tongue or scarlet skin, though the child’s condition was still serious.

“He’s burning up with fever, he cries when he tries to swallow, and he says his ears hurt something fierce. Can you help him?” The mother led Burke and Louisa into her son’s bedroom, refusing to leave him, even though Burke had suggested she would be more comfortable not watching the examination.

As he’d suspected from the symptoms she outlined, the boy had severely swollen tonsils, what some called tonsillitis, others preferring the term quinsy.

“Has this happened before?” he asked.

The mother nodded. “But not this bad. I’m scared.” She touched her son’s forehead, biting her lip as he winced from even the slight pressure. “Can’t you give him morphine? Doc Sheridan said that was the best way to treat pain.”

Trying not to shudder at the thought, Burke shook his head. While it was never easy to watch a child in pain, morphine was not the answer. It might lessen the pain, but it would not resolve the infection. If left untreated, the boy’s quinsy would only worsen, leaving him unable to open his mouth fully and possibly deaf for the week or two until the abscess ruptured.

“Your son’s tonsils are badly infected,” Burke told the mother after he’d shown Louisa how he’d made the diagnosis. “I can give you something for him to gargle, and that may help, but the best thing is to open and drain the abscess. Are you willing for me to do that?”

“Will it make the pain go away?”

“It will.”

“Then go ahead.”

Once he’d convinced the mother to sit on the opposite side of the room so that he and Louisa could work without interruption, Burke opened his medical bag and began to prepare for the procedure, explaining each step to Louisa. Though she said nothing while he swabbed the boy’s tonsils and carefully inserted the lancet, he heard her quick intake of breath when the abscess began to drain. Only minutes later, the boy was able to speak.

“It doesn’t hurt.” The child’s amazement was mirrored in Louisa’s expression.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I learned so much today.”

The mother insisted on a tangible payment. With tears of relief streaming down her face, she handed Burke a plucked chicken. “Emily will know what to do with it.”

Burke hoped that was the case. “I have something for you,” he told his landlady as he entered the kitchen bearing the chicken.

Emily took one look at the contents of the sack and laughed. “Let me guess. You tried to refuse, but your patient wouldn’t listen.”

“She said you’d know what to do with it.”

“I do indeed. This one will make a fine roast. Now, shoo. I know you and Joanna had plans for the afternoon. She’s waiting in the parlor.”

The sound of music told Burke that Joanna was doing more than waiting. She was playing something soothing, although whether that was for herself, Emily, or even him, he did not know.

“Don’t stop,” he said when her fingers stilled and she started to rise from the bench. “That was beautiful. What is it called?”

“It’s a piece by Johannes Brahms, the first of his piano trio. I was simply passing the time until you came.”

Though there was no condemnation in her voice, Burke felt the need to apologize. “It’s later than I expected, but if you’re still agreeable, I’m ready to visit whichever man is first on your list.”

She rose, straightening her skirt and heading toward the front door. “I thought we should start with the mayor.” As she pinned on her hat, she said, “I’m surprised he hasn’t talked to you after you asked him and the sheriff to share their memories. It seems odd, since some call him a windbag. While I wouldn’t use that term, Mayor Alcott can be pompous, and he never hesitates to voice his opinion.”

“He probably believes his position as mayor makes him an expert on most things.”

Like Joanna, Burke had been surprised by the mayor’s silence but attributed it to the hostility he’d seen the day they’d met. Perhaps today would be different.

“Finley, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” the mayor said when Burke and Joanna entered his office, “but there hasn’t been time. Being mayor of this fine town demands almost every hour of the day.”

To Joanna’s credit, her only reaction to the blatant exaggeration was a faint tightening of her lips, as if she was trying to suppress a laugh. He was grateful that the man appeared less adversarial today, perhaps because he’d had over a week to become accustomed to Burke’s resemblance to his uncle.

“I realize you weren’t mayor back then,” Burke said, attempting to appeal to the man’s vanity, “but you strike me as someone with an excellent memory.” When Alcott preened, Burke continued. “What do you recall about the time my uncle lived here?”

The proud smile turned into a scowl. “Not much. That was the year I decided to run for mayor. Some folks thought I was too young, but I managed to convince them to support me. Campaigning and wooing my wife were more important than thinking about the man who was trying to outdo the rest of us by building that monstrosity of a house.”

When Joanna flinched at the description of her home, Burke said as mildly as he could, “Everyone’s entitled to an opinion. I, for one, find the house beautiful. And,” he added, “I suspect the taxes Joanna’s family pays on it help the town’s coffers.”

Alcott inclined his head. “That much is true.”

An hour later, though Burke had learned nothing of value about his uncle, he and Joanna had been subjected to a lengthy discussion of the changes the mayor had made in Sweetwater Crossing and how he’d won reelection by a landslide.

When they managed to escape—that was the only word Burke thought appropriate—and were out of earshot, he turned to Joanna. “Who was his opponent?”

“There wasn’t one. No one else wants the job.”

Burke suspected that wasn’t the whole truth and that the mayor had intimidated anyone who considered opposing him.

“What about you?” he asked her. “It’s a shame women can’t vote or run for office, because you’d be a good mayor.”

Joanna stared at him for a second, then burst into laughter, a sound that made the beautiful music she’d played earlier today pale in comparison. It was a full-bodied laugh, clear as a bell, and more infectious than most germs, leaving others no choice but to join in.

When her laughter subsided, she pretended to glare at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve spent too much time in Mr. Miller’s saloon and that what I heard was whiskey talking.”

Burke feigned innocence. “I made you laugh, didn’t I? That was my intention.” Laughter turned Joanna from pretty to stunning, bringing welcome color to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes. “You should do it more often.”

He might not have learned anything from the mayor, but the afternoon was far from a failure, for Burke now had a new mission. He would do whatever he could to make Joanna laugh at least once a day.

“Will you share the joke with the rest of us?” Craig asked as he passed the bowl of peas to Joanna. “You’ve been wearing a Cheshire cat grin since we sat down for dinner.”

Joanna felt heat rise to her cheeks. Though she was still amused by the idea of running for mayor, she hadn’t realized it was obvious. “It’s not really a joke,” she told Craig. “Burke made the most ridiculous suggestion this afternoon, and I can’t help smiling whenever I think about it.” She’d done more than smile. She’d chuckled, and when she’d been alone in her bedroom, she’d laughed aloud.

Della laid her fork on her plate and looked from Burke to Joanna, her expression inscrutable. “That doesn’t sound like the Burke I know. His suggestions are usually very well thought out and sensible.”

“This one wasn’t.”

Burke’s lips twitched with amusement. “How do you know it wasn’t?”

“Because the whole idea is preposterous.”

Beulah, who’d been listening intently, turned to Joanna. “What did Mr. Burke say?”

“He said that if laws were different I should run for mayor.”

Emily exchanged a quick look with her husband before she fixed her gaze on Joanna. “And you told him you wouldn’t consider it.”

“Of course I did.” The talents God had given her did not include serving in public office. “I doubt a woman would ever be elected mayor, even if women could vote.”

“Why not?” Beulah seemed perplexed, addressing her question to Craig, perhaps because he was her teacher.

“It’s never been done,” he told her, “but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen someday.”

Mrs. Carmichael nodded. “Folks here have mighty strong opinions about their elected officials. I remember the opposition when Malcolm Alcott first ran for mayor.”

“He told us people thought he was too young.” Though Joanna wasn’t certain how old he was now, she suspected he’d been about her age when he’d decided he should be mayor.

“Not just that. He was young and single. In folks’ minds, that meant he hadn’t settled down enough to run the town.” Mrs. Carmichael broke her roll in two and began to butter it. “There were rumors that he was sweet on Minerva Heppel, but the grapevine must have been mistaken, because Malcolm started courting Mary Watson, and the next thing we knew, they were married.”

This was the second time Joanna had heard the mayor’s name coupled with Miss Heppel’s. Was he the man who’d broken her heart?

Joanna’s musings were cut short when Craig said, “You might not want to ever be mayor, Joanna, but I wondered whether you’d consider teaching some of my pupils to play the piano. A few of the mothers said they’d approached Miss Heppel, but she refused. I sense that there’s a real need.”

Once again, Beulah was the first to react. “Would you teach me?”

Seeing the enthusiasm on the girl’s face made Joanna wish Craig had waited until Beulah left the table before posing his question. While it wasn’t as outlandish as Burke’s, Joanna’s answer was the same.

“I can’t do that, Craig. One thing I learned in Europe is that teaching requires talents I don’t possess. From everything I’ve heard, you’re an excellent teacher. I wouldn’t be even passably good. It wouldn’t be fair to your pupils to have me try to teach them.”

“Oh.” Beulah blinked to keep the tears that filled her eyes from falling. “I want to play like you.”

What could she say to comfort the child? As she searched for an answer, though she couldn’t explain why she did it, Joanna looked at Burke. He said nothing, and yet the sympathy she saw reflected from his eyes heartened her and gave her an idea.

“Can you keep a secret, Beulah?” she asked.

When the girl nodded, Joanna continued. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll teach you to play scales. We can practice after school every day.”

Beulah’s radiant smile banished the last of Joanna’s doubts.

“I’m gonna learn to play the piano! Wait till my mama hears.” The smile faded a second later. “I’m sorry, Miss Joanna. I know it’s a secret. I won’t tell her.”

“It’s all right to tell your parents and your grandmother,” Joanna assured the girl. “It’s only a secret from the other pupils.”

Nodding as solemnly as if they’d negotiated a peace treaty, Beulah said, “Okay. Just my family.” She picked up her glass of milk, then set it down again and smiled at Joanna. “I’m so happy.”

“So am I.” Louisa, who’d been uncharacteristically silent during the discussion, spoke. “Today that’s thanks to Burke. Not only did he make my sister laugh again, but he’s teaching me so much. I learned how to diagnose and treat quinsy.” She gave him a smile, then turned it on Della. “I hope you’ll both stay for more than two weeks.”

So did Joanna.