Page 16 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Sixteen

“I’m glad you could come,” Gertrude said as she ushered Joanna into her parlor two days later. “I wanted us to have some time alone. You’ve been home for weeks now, and I haven’t heard about what happened in Europe and how you met your husband.”

She gestured toward the plate of spiced cookies and the two glasses of buttermilk on the table. “Help yourself. Even my mother says my cookies are good.”

They were. Joanna nibbled one and complimented her hostess before she said, “The first months in Europe were wonderful. I learned so much from Herr Ridel and the masters he persuaded to teach me.”

“I’m not surprised. I knew that if you had the right teacher, you could become an excellent musician. Minerva Heppel tried, but she’s not a gifted teacher.”

While it was true that Miss Heppel could not compare to the musicians Joanna had met in Europe, she had given Joanna a good foundation, a fact that she pointed out to Gertrude.

“Your loyalty is admirable, Joanna, even if a bit misplaced.” When Joanna refused the offer of another cookie, Gertrude pushed the plate aside. “Now, tell me about your husband. I heard you met him at the sanatorium. Was he a patient?”

Joanna shook her head. “His sister was. Kurt was there to visit her.”

“And you fell in love at first sight.” Gertrude put down her glass to meet Joanna’s gaze. “It feels like a miracle when that happens, doesn’t it?”

Though Gertrude spoke as if from personal experience, she’d known Thomas for years before she married him, and rumor had it that he’d proposed more than once. If it had been love at first sight, why hadn’t they married sooner?

Joanna doubted her former teacher would appreciate being questioned about the apparent discrepancy, and so she did not. Instead, she said, “I didn’t think of it as a miracle, but Kurt’s love felt like a gift.” And now the memory of the time they’d spent together seemed like a dream or a story she’d read, not something that had happened to her. If it weren’t for the child she was carrying, she might have doubted she’d ever been married.

Gertrude nodded vigorously. “His love was a gift, no question about that. First love is special.” She paused to take a sip of buttermilk. “I heard you and Burke had supper at Ma’s the other night.”

“We did.” It was clear that Gertrude’s curiosity had been piqued, so Joanna obliged her. “He wanted to thank me for playing the piano while he set a patient’s arm.”

“Herb Oberle.”

There were no secrets in Sweetwater Crossing. “Yes. He also asked if I’d consider playing while he and Louisa treat other patients.”

To Joanna’s surprise, Gertrude frowned. “Music won’t sway him. Minerva tried that and failed.”

What on earth was Gertrude talking about? Miss Heppel had barely spoken to Burke, and he’d never heard her play anything other than Sunday hymns. How could that possibly sway him, and—more importantly—why would Miss Heppel want to sway him?

Joanna’s confusion must have shown, because Gertrude gave her head a self-deprecating shake. “Please excuse me. Sometimes my mind wanders. What I meant to say was that Burke could turn a girl’s head. I hope you won’t let that happen, because you’d be making a mistake if you married him. Second loves can never compare to the first, and second marriages are always disappointing.”

Gertrude was speaking the way she had in the schoolroom when she’d declared that two times two equals four. That was an incontrovertible fact. Her view of second loves and second marriages was not. Gertrude was wrong.

“I think you’re mistaken.” There was no question that Emily’s second marriage was vastly better than her first, and Kurt had told Joanna their marriage was happier than his to Irmgard. Gertrude had no need to know that. Instead, Joanna said, “My parents were very happy together, and it was a second marriage for both of them.”

“Are you certain they were happy? I heard the only reason they married was because each of them had a child. Your mother had Emily, your father you. They didn’t want to raise them alone, so they married.” Gertrude took a short breath, then continued. “I can’t condemn them. Giving children two parents is an admirable reason to enter into matrimony a second time, but your situation is different. You have no children, and so you’d be making a mistake if you married again.”

Knowing that her secret would not remain secret for much longer, Joanna shook her head. “My situation’s not so different, Gertrude. I’m expecting a baby next spring.”

“You are?” Gertrude stared at her for a long moment, as if assuring herself that Joanna was telling the truth. “I shouldn’t admit it, but I envy you. All I wanted was his baby, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

Remembering that Louisa had mentioned Gertrude losing a baby last spring, Joanna started to express her sympathy, but her former teacher forestalled her.

“Be careful, Joanna. That’s a precious gift you’re carrying. A baby is even more precious than a man’s love.”

“You’re a wonderful doctor .” Try though he might to dismiss them, Joanna’s words lingered in Burke’s memory along with the warmth in her expression when she’d uttered them. She might believe it was true, but she wouldn’t have said that if she knew what he’d done.

It had been almost two full days since their supper at Ma’s, two days of debating what he should do. Should he tell Joanna, knowing she’d never regard him in the same light, or should he let her continue to believe he was a better man than he was? Honesty won.

“Do you realize that I’ve been in Sweetwater Crossing for three weeks and I’ve never been to the park?” Burke waited until Joanna finished the piece she was playing before he spoke.

Louisa had closed the office early, saying any patients who needed them knew where to find them, and while she’d gone across the street to spend some time with Josh at the mercantile, Burke had returned to Finley House, determined that today would be the day he’d tell Joanna. He could have waited for their usual evening walk, but he wanted to see her face when she heard the story of the worst day of his life.

“You haven’t been to the park?” Joanna appeared surprised. After a quick glance at the clock on the mantel, she rose. “Shall we go there now?”

While they strolled into the center of town and headed west on Main to reach the park, they spoke of ordinary things. Joanna mentioned her visit with Gertrude and her confusing reference to Miss Heppel, then listened while Burke recounted his discussion with Louisa regarding the best way to treat chicken pox.

It was only when they were seated on a bench far enough from the street that they’d have privacy that he said, “I brought you here for a reason.”

“Do you have another ulterior motive?” Joanna’s grin told him she was expecting something lighthearted.

Burke shook his head. “No ulterior motive, but I couldn’t let you continue to harbor false impressions of me. You deserve to know what happened in Alabama.”

The sparkle fled from Joanna’s brown eyes. “Is this about the patient you couldn’t save? I know that’s been weighing heavily on you, even though I’m certain you did everything you could to save him.”

If only that were true. “It’s not that simple, Joanna. I wish it were true that I tried my best to save her, but I made a horrible mistake, and as a result a woman died.”

Joanna’s eyes widened and her breath caught as she struggled with his revelation. “You said it was a mistake.”

“One that should not have happened.”

She was silent for a moment before she said, “Why don’t you tell me everything? You don’t need to tell me her name if you don’t want to.”

That was Joanna, worrying about his divulging something he shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter now. Her name was Mrs. Arnold, and she was Edna’s mother.”

“The woman you expected to be your mother-in-law.”

Burke nodded. “We all knew that she was dying of cancer, but once Edna realized how much her mother wanted to see her married, she and I were determined that she’d live long enough to attend our wedding.”

He paused, remembering how the feisty woman’s health had declined much more rapidly than either he or Felix had expected and how she’d become a shadow of herself. “She was in such extreme pain that she needed morphine several times a day.”

“My father relied on morphine when his war wounds grew too painful,” Joanna said softly, “but he didn’t need daily injections.”

“He was fortunate. Edna’s mother would rally occasionally, but the day Edna broke our engagement, she took a turn for the worse. We brought her into the infirmary so I could give her morphine during the night.”

Burke took a deep breath, not wanting to continue but knowing he had to. “The last thing Edna said to me that night was, ‘Don’t leave my mother alone.’ I promised her I wouldn’t.”

A bird settled on the branch of a nearby tree, its song so beautiful that it seemed to be saying, “God’s in his heaven—All’s right with the world.” Both Robert Browning and the bird were wrong. All was not right, at least not in Burke’s world. He wasn’t certain it would ever be.

“I stayed awake all night, not wanting to leave Mrs. Arnold’s side, but after I gave her another injection just before dawn, once I saw she was sleeping peacefully, I went outside to clear my head. When I returned, Edna was there screaming because her mother was dead.”

The tears that shone in Joanna’s eyes told Burke how deeply the story was affecting her. “I don’t understand. Why do you believe you were responsible for her death?”

“Because I gave her twice as much morphine as I should have. I was so tired that I didn’t write the amount I’d dispensed on the chart we kept by her bed, but when Felix and I checked our supply later that day, there was no question that double the normal amount was gone. I must have been more tired than I realized, because I would never have done that knowingly, but there was no undoing it. Mrs. Arnold was dead, and it was my fault.”

“It was an accident, a tragic mistake.” Joanna’s voice trembled with emotion, becoming stronger as she said, “You can’t let that overshadow all the good you’ve done. You’re kind and caring, and I stand by what I said at Ma’s. You’re a wonderful doctor.”

Joanna was the one who was kind and caring, but while it would be easy to accept her praise, Burke could not. “I’m not a wonderful doctor, Joanna. Because of me, a woman died.”

She shook her head. “How can you be so certain that that wasn’t part of God’s plan? You said Mrs. Arnold was in extreme pain. Perhaps he used what you consider a mistake to end her suffering.”

It was Burke’s turn to be astonished. “Do you really believe that?”

“If my father were still alive, he’d tell you that God’s ways are not ours. He might also quote Romans 8:28.”

Burke wracked his brain, trying to recall the verse she’d cited. “Is that the one about all things working for good?” When Joanna nodded, he shook his head. “I wish I could believe that, but—”

Joanna wouldn’t let him complete his sentence. “Believe it, Burke. Believe it.”

He stared at her for a long moment, wanting to accept the comfort she was offering, wishing he deserved it.

“Believe it, Burke.” Joanna reached for his hand and laid hers on top of it, as if her touch would convince him even if her words did not.

The bird whose song had seemed to mock him continued to trill, but this time Burke heard only the beauty. A week ago, even a day ago, he wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the warmth of Joanna’s expression as well as the earnestness of her voice cracked the shell he’d erected around his heart, and for the first time since that awful morning, Burke caught a glimpse of hope.