Page 23 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Burke walked quickly, eager to reach his destination. It was the final day of November, the day before he could send Fielding his decision. That should have been easy. A month ago, it would have been easy, even with Fielding’s stipulation that Burke must remain single for as long as they worked together, but so many things had happened this month: Miss Heppel’s death and the changes that brought to Joanna’s life, Thomas’s appendicitis and the feeling of satisfaction it had given Burke to have been able to perform a successful appendectomy, the way the townspeople urged him to remain. All of those had to be balanced against the excitement of searching for a way to prevent thousands of people from contracting pneumonia.

And then there were his feelings for Joanna. They’d grown with each day that had passed, filling him with contentment when they were together, making him wonder whether the undeniable allure of possibly creating a vaccine for pneumonia would compensate for the pain that leaving Joanna would bring. For the mere thought of being more than a thousand miles from her was painful. How much worse would the reality be? Joanna had become an important—an essential—part of his life. How could he walk away from her?

Burke had tried to weigh everything, but he’d remained indecisive. He’d prayed for guidance, but he’d received no answer. It was time to pray again, but this time he’d seek God’s will in his own room rather than in the church.

He increased his pace when he reached the front pillars, then sprinted up the steps. Finley House was quiet when he entered it, making it the ideal time and place to pray. Closing his eyes for a second, he said a silent prayer that he’d receive an answer this time, then climbed the stairs.

When he reached the landing, the unmistakable sound of a woman’s sobs filled the hallway. These weren’t cries from physical pain; these were the sound of a broken heart. Someone was in almost unbearable anguish, and even though Burke knew it was not from a bodily ailment that he could cure as a physician, he could not—and would not—ignore such devastating pain.

He turned in the direction of the cries, trying to determine the source, then frowned. They appeared to be coming from the last room on the rear of the house, Joanna’s room.

When Burke’s knock was not answered, he debated his next step. Propriety said he should not enter her bedchamber, but he couldn’t leave her, not like this. And so he opened the door and set foot inside.

Though his sisters would have been weeping face down on their bed, Joanna was seated next to a small dressing table, her head in her hands as sobs shook her body. Burke had seen people filled with despair when faced with a life-threatening illness. He’d seen others grieving the loss of a loved one, but he’d never seen someone exhibiting such heart-wrenching sorrow.

“Oh, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out seemingly of its own volition. “Tell me what’s wrong. It can’t be that bad.”

Joanna stared at the man who’d entered her bedchamber. If anyone knew he was here, they’d be scandalized. She almost laughed at the irony. If anyone knew what Marta had written, they’d be even more scandalized.

Burke shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t turn him away, not without an explanation. After witnessing her despair, he deserved to know what had caused it.

“You’re wrong, Burke. It’s more than bad. It’s horrible.” She gestured toward the pages she’d flung onto the table, wishing she could burn or at least crumple them but knowing she should not. Even now, though she’d read Marta’s letter three times, trying to convince herself she’d imagined its contents, Joanna had difficulty believing the story she’d related was true. But it was. Joanna knew that just as she knew that her life had once again been irrevocably changed.

“Not all letters are like the one you received from Dr. Fielding and bring good news.” Joanna wiped her eyes, grateful that Burke’s presence had startled her enough that her sobs had subsided. “Ever since I opened that envelope, I’ve felt like I’m in the middle of a nightmare.” She shuddered. “I wish it were only a nightmare, but this is no bad dream. I’m awake, and it’s true.”

Though he said nothing but waited for her to explain what had disturbed her so greatly, Joanna saw concern and something more, something that looked like sympathy in his eyes. If anyone would understand, it was Burke.

It was awkward to have him standing over her, and so she motioned to the other chair. Perhaps when he was seated, she would be able to muster the courage to tell him what Marta had written.

“Will you tell me what happened?” His voice was low yet filled with persuasion, urging her to confide in him. Was this how he dealt with difficult patients? “You know you can trust me.”

She did. There was no one, not even her sisters, that Joanna trusted more. Still, the thought of telling anyone made her heart pound with fear. What would Burke think when he learned the truth? Words once spoken could not be retracted.

“Please, Joanna. I can’t help you unless I know what’s wrong.”

That was Burke, a man dedicated to healing. He wanted to help her the way he helped his patients, the way he helped her turn Miss Heppel’s house into one where she could be comfortable living and raising her baby.

Her baby! Joanna bit back the cry that threatened to escape. Taking a deep breath, she tried to control her emotions. Tears accomplished nothing. The past hour had proven that.

She looked directly at Burke. “I know you want to help, but no one can help me.”

The concern she’d seen in his green eyes deepened. “I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it, Burke.” Joanna took another deep breath, searching for the strength to tell him what she’d learned. “The truth is, I’m not married.”

This time puzzlement crossed his face. “Of course you’re not. You’re widowed.”

If only that were true. “That’s what I believed, but it’s not true. I was never married to Kurt. Not legally.”

Puzzlement turned to shock. “How is that possible?”

Pointing to the letter she’d wanted to tear to shreds or toss into a fire, Joanna began her explanation. “Marta—she’s my sister-in-law.” Mirthless laughter spewed from her lips followed by a cough. “Marta, the woman I thought was my sister-in-law, sent me a letter explaining everything.” Joanna trained her gaze on Burke, wanting to see his reaction at the same time that she dreaded it. “Do you remember that Kurt was a widower when I met him?”

Burke nodded. “Didn’t his first wife die in a fire after they had an argument?”

“That’s what he thought. It’s what Irmgard wanted him to believe.” Irmgard, the woman who’d broken Kurt’s heart and who was now breaking Joanna’s.

“Kurt told me she was a moody person and that those moods could be extreme. They fought during one of the times when sadness overwhelmed her. According to what Marta wrote, Irmgard believed Kurt was the cause of her unhappiness and that the only way she’d feel better was to leave him. That’s why she ran away, eventually staying with a cousin, but even when she was at her cousin’s house, all she could think about was a life without him.”

Burke’s expression said he was as mystified by Irmgard’s behavior as Joanna had been. She’d never known anyone who’d acted the way Kurt’s wife had, and that made it difficult to believe what had happened.

“She soon became unhappy living with the cousin and took every opportunity to be outside. One night she wandered farther away than usual. When she returned, she discovered that the cousin’s barn had burned.”

Joanna coughed again, and this time it turned into a coughing spasm. She took a deep breath, trying to stop the coughs, but they only intensified. Not since she’d left Switzerland had she coughed like this.

Burke rose and poured water from the ewer into a glass. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

When the coughs subsided, she continued the story. “Irmgard told Marta it was a sign from God that a woman’s charred body had been brought out of the barn and covered with a blanket. Realizing that no one could identify the body, Irmgard placed her own ring on the woman’s finger, then fled, knowing everyone would believe the charred body was hers. She’d gotten her freedom from Kurt.”

Burke was shaking his head, as if to clear cobwebs from his brain. Joanna understood the reaction. The first time she’d read Marta’s letter, she’d been as incredulous as he appeared.

She took another deep breath, willing herself not to cough. “A month later when her anger at Kurt had faded, Irmgard returned to their home. By then, he’d gone to Switzerland to be with Marta, so Irmgard waited for them to come home, but only Marta did. Through no act of her own, Irmgard had gotten what she wanted—life without Kurt. His death had freed her from the marriage she’d grown to hate.”

Burke was silent for a moment, digesting all that Joanna had told him. “It’s an almost unbelievable story. Are you certain it’s true?”

If only it weren’t, but she knew otherwise. “Marta wouldn’t lie. And as you said, the story is almost unbelievable. She would never have invented a tale like that.”

Burke said nothing more, waiting for Joanna to continue.

“I wish it were only a story, but it isn’t, and that means”—she placed her hand on her abdomen—“my baby will be illegitimate.” Trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, she looked at the man who’d given her such good advice in the past. “Oh, Burke, what am I going to do?”

He pursed his lips as he pondered her dilemma. “You could say nothing and continue living as Joanna Richter. You and Kurt acted in good faith. You didn’t try to deceive anyone. To the contrary, it was Kurt who was deceived.”

She’d considered that idea. “That’s true, but I’d still know that I wasn’t really married.”

“Are you certain you weren’t? I don’t know what the laws are in Switzerland, but even if it wasn’t a legal marriage, I find it hard to believe that anyone would condemn you for marrying Kurt when he had every reason to believe Irmgard was dead. Besides, I’m not convinced you need to tell anyone about the letter. It’s not their business.”

“I’d still know, and eventually I would have to tell my child.”

When another round of coughs wracked her body more vio lently than her earlier sobs had, Joanna reached for the glass of water.

“I don’t think you should make any decisions today.” Burke’s voice was far calmer than her thoughts. “You’ve sustained a serious blow, and you need to recover from that.”

Joanna looked at him, knowing her expression revealed her confusion.

“You may not have been hurt physically,” Burke explained, “but Marta’s letter wounded your emotions. Some doctors would say that you’re suffering from hysteria. I’m not one of them, but the way you coughed after weeks without any attacks like that tells me how deeply this hurt you.”

Joanna nodded her agreement. There was no denying how much pain the revelation of Irmgard’s perfidy had caused.

“I may be wrong,” Burke continued, “but I suspect your fears are for your child, not for yourself. I know you’ve been worried about how his father’s death will affect him. This only worsens that.”

Once again, Joanna nodded as Burke proved how well he understood her. She hated—oh, how she hated—the thought of anything that would make her baby’s life more difficult.

“You’re right. I am worried about that, but I don’t see a way to give my baby the life I think he should have.”

Burke shook his head. “You’re wrong, Joanna. There is a way. You could marry me.”