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

Chapter Three

He wasn’t sleepy, but Burke hadn’t wanted to intrude on the two couples’ evening, and so when both Della and Joanna retired to their rooms, he’d climbed the stairs to his and was now seated on the veranda that spanned the back of the house. Perhaps the view of the slowly moving creek would help him sort out his impressions of the day that had been filled with surprises.

The first had been the house Clive had built for Della. Though Finley House reminded Burke of Della’s childhood home, there was one noticeable difference: this house felt like a home, a place filled with warmth and welcome, while the plantation house her grandfather had built had always struck Burke as cold.

The difference was the family that lived here. The three Vaughn sisters bore little physical resemblance, although Emily and Louisa had the same vivid blue eyes, but they all treated him and Della almost as if they were part of their family, as did Josh and Craig. Even little Noah and Mrs. Carmichael had been more welcoming than he would have expected.

That had been the second surprise. And then there was Joanna. The ring on her left hand and her second surname told him she was married, while the combination of her husband’s absence and her mourning clothing made him believe she was a widow. It was one thing to be recovering from a serious physical ailment as she was, but when deep emotional loss was added, the prognosis became complicated.

What could a physician do? That was a question Burke had posed to Felix as part of their Stump the Doctor challenge. It was also one of the few times neither of them had an answer.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Mrs. Carmichael interrupted Burke’s reverie as she emerged from her room onto the shared veranda. “It’s been such an exciting day that I know I won’t be able to sleep for hours.”

Nor would Burke. Rising, he gestured toward the chair next to his. “I’d welcome your company.” Perhaps talking to her, even if it was about inconsequential things, would help him relax enough to sleep.

When she was seated, Mrs. Carmichael shifted slightly so she was facing him. “I still can’t believe Clive’s fiancée came here. Of course it’s been decades, but I still recall how eager we were to meet the woman he loved so dearly. At first folks thought she must be a pampered girl who’d demanded a huge house, but Clive soon set them straight. Once they heard about her daddy, opinions changed mighty fast, but the curiosity never died.”

Feeling the need to defend his uncle’s choice of a bride, Burke said, “Della is the least selfish person I’ve ever met. She’s devoted her whole life to making others happy.”

The widow nodded. “I can see that. She’s kind and generous, and you’re a good man to have brought her all this way, especially since it meant leaving your patients.”

“My partner is handling them.” There was no need to tell Mrs. Carmichael or anyone that he welcomed the opportunity to leave Alabama. “Besides, I was almost as curious as Aunt Della. Neither of us knew what we’d find.”

“I doubt you expected it to be a boardinghouse.”

“True, but I also didn’t expect such a welcoming family.”

Though the sun had set, the waxing moon revealed Mrs. Carmichael’s smile. “Joseph Vaughn set a fine example for his daughters. He loved them all equally.”

Her statement was almost as unexpected as the family itself. Though Burke had no memory of his father, his mother had lavished the same love on him as she did on Antonia and Hester.

“Pardon me for asking, but why wouldn’t he?”

“It’s a complicated family.” The widow’s smile was undiminished. “Joseph was the pastor in a town about fifty miles away. When his wife died giving birth to Joanna, he wanted to leave the memories behind, so when he heard about the opening for a minister in Sweetwater Crossing, he came here.”

Though the story differed from his own, Burke felt a connection to Joanna’s father. They’d both come to Sweetwater Crossing to escape memories when death changed their lives irrevocably. Joseph Vaughn had remained and forged a new life. While Burke wouldn’t be here permanently, if he was fortunate, he might accomplish what the town’s former minister did and find a new direction for his life.

After pausing to take a breath, Mrs. Carmichael continued. “Prudence Abbott was a young widow with a child of her own. That’s Emily. Practically from the day they met, sparks flew between Prudence and Joseph, and they married a month later. Louisa’s their child. She’s the only one who grew up with both parents.”

No wonder the three sisters bore so little physical resemblance. Burke nodded. “You’re right. The family is complicated. My mother was a romantic at heart and would have been pleased by the evidence of second chances at happiness.” He, on the other hand, had yet to have his first.

Her nod said that Mrs. Carmichael agreed with Ma. “Emily found her second chance. She was a widow when she returned to Sweetwater Crossing last year.” For the first time, the older woman’s smile faltered. “I hope Joanna will be as fortunate. It’s sad that her husband died after they’d been married only a month.”

Burke’s supposition that she was a widow had been accurate. “Was he an American?”

“No. I don’t know much about him other than that he was German and they met in Switzerland. You’ll have to ask her if you want to know more, but you might want to wait a day or two. The poor dear only arrived today.”

Burke tried to mask his surprise. He recalled Emily saying something about Joanna’s longer journey, but he’d assumed that she had been back for several days and was still recovering.

“Don’t you dare tell the others,” Mrs. Carmichael continued, “but Joanna has always been my favorite of the Vaughn girls. I sometimes thought she felt a bit lost being the middle child, so even though I hated to see her leave, I knew the time in Europe would be good for her.”

Mrs. Carmichael shook her head. “Look how that turned out. She caught some horrible disease and lost her husband. It doesn’t seem fair, but I won’t give up hope that things will turn around.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked at Burke. “You probably think I’m an old busybody. I’m not. I’m also not a matchmaker, but if I were, I couldn’t have found better mates for Emily and Louisa. I want Joanna to be as happy as they are.”

So did Burke. Though he couldn’t explain the reason, something about Joanna had touched a chord deep inside him, making him want to protect this woman. She wasn’t a patient. He hadn’t known her long enough to call her a friend. Still, the urge—more than that, the need—to ease her suffering and restore her health so that she could seek a second chance at happiness could not be denied.

Mrs. Carmichael raised her hand to her mouth, stifling a yawn. “It seems the day is finally catching up with me. Good night, Burke.”

“Good night.”

As he settled back in the chair, Burke closed his eyes for a moment, reflecting on what he’d been told. Though he cautioned himself not to place too much weight on initial impressions, there was no question that Joanna was the most intriguing of the three sisters. He sensed that she possessed an adventurous streak, since she’d left her family to go to Europe. And then there was her strength. Not physical strength, because her breathing was definitely strained, but internal strength.

Burke’s instincts told him she was a woman who could stand on her own, one who didn’t need a man to take care of her, even under devastating circumstances, and yet, despite knowing that, he wanted to help her heal both her body and her spirit.

“Come in,” Joanna said when she heard the soft knock.

“I thought you’d be asleep.” Emily closed the door behind her, frowning slightly at the sight of the lighted lamp and the book in Joanna’s hand.

“So did I, but my mind is whirling in a dozen directions all at once.” Part of that was the strangeness of being in Emily’s former room rather than her own. Though both bedchambers were on corners of the second floor, Emily’s faced the back and had access to the rear veranda, whereas Joanna’s had only a front-facing window. Even though she’d once coveted this room, today Joanna would have preferred the familiarity of the one where she’d slept for so many years.

Rather than admit that to Emily, she said, “I hoped Miss Austen’s story would help me relax, but there are so many things to think about.”

“If you’re like me, that starts with our new visitors.” Emily perched on the side of the bed next to Joanna.

While that wasn’t foremost in Joanna’s mind, she had indeed thought of Burke and Della and hoped they were finding it easier to relax than she was.

“I never imagined I’d meet Clive’s fiancée.” Della might be more than a decade older, but even in the brief time they’d spent together, Joanna felt an affinity with her, perhaps because they’d both lost loved ones, perhaps because Della’s passion for books matched her own for music.

“What amazes me the most is meeting a man who looks so much like Clive. I always wondered about his appearance, because I can’t remember Father describing Clive.”

Joanna nodded. She’d never envisioned Clive Finley being a redhead with green eyes, but there was no denying that Burke was an attractive man. What intrigued her was more than his physical appearance. Burke was clearly devoted to Della, but though he seemed happy to be here, Joanna sensed an underlying sorrow. It wasn’t the kind of sorrow Kurt had when they’d first met, caused by his wife’s tragic death. Rather, Joanna had the impression that Burke was haunted by something in his life.

There was no reason to tell Emily that she was concerned about one of their visitors, especially not tonight when Joanna’s emotions were so tumultuous. Instead, she pretended that her thoughts had not taken a detour.

“All I recall is Father talking about their friendship and how he wished Clive had survived the war. I know he wondered which battle was his last.”

“We could ask Della. She should know.”

Once again, Joanna nodded. “I’ll do that in the morning, even though I don’t like reminding her of her loss.” Joanna hated talking about Kurt’s death, even to her sisters. Recounting his final hours brought the sorrow she’d tried so hard to suppress back to the surface and reopened the wounds his absence had inflicted. Joanna could only hope the passage of time had made it easier for Della to speak of her beloved’s death.

“Perhaps you should wait,” Emily suggested. “After all, she and Burke will be here for two weeks. Why not give them a chance to form some happy memories of Sweetwater Crossing before you ask about Clive?”

“That’s good advice, O wise older sister.” Joanna pretended to doff her hat and bow, wanting to lighten the atmosphere.

Emily’s lips curved into a smile. “I’m glad you recognized my wisdom. You and Louisa were often rebellious subjects.”

“That’s only because whenever we played, you insisted on being the queen. You claimed it was your prerogative as the eldest.” Joanna gave her sister a quick hug. “I don’t think I said it often enough when we were growing up, but I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

Joanna chuckled. “There you go again, trying to be the best.”

Holding her hands up in surrender, Emily joined in the laughter. When their laughs turned into giggles and finally stopped, she spoke. “One of the reasons I knocked when I saw your light is I wanted to give you something happy to think about.” She paused. “Are you ready?”

“For happy things, always.” There’d been far too few of those recently.

Emily rose and smoothed her skirt over her abdomen, revealing a small but unmistakable bump.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Her sister’s eyes sparkled with joy. “It is. You’re going to be an aunt.”

“Oh, Emily, that’s wonderful!” Joanna drew her sister into a long hug, relishing the news and the way it dispelled the malaise that had clung to her all afternoon and evening. “When is the baby due?”

“Early February.” Emily’s voice cracked with emotion.“Craig and I are thrilled, especially because Louisa is back and can deliver your niece or nephew. She’ll probably never tell you—you know how modest our sister can be—but she saved a baby’s life a few months ago. The parents named him after her.”

“A boy named Louisa?” The thought made Joanna giggle again.

“Oh, Joanna, your sense of humor hasn’t failed, has it? His name is Louis Gleason.”

“An admirable name, but let’s not talk about someone else’s baby. How are you feeling?”

Emily wrinkled her nose. “Better now that the morning sickness is over. I’ve started to feel the baby move. They’re just little flutters, but it feels like a miracle.”

“And it is. I remember Mama saying that each new life is a miracle.”

Emily nodded. “And a gift from God.” She clasped one of Joanna’s hands. “I’m sorry about all that you’ve gone through, but I’m grateful that you’re back home. I want my baby to be close to his or her aunts.”

“Aunt Joanna. I like the sound of that. Have you and Craig thought about your baby’s name?” Though she and Kurt had been married only a few weeks, they’d agreed that their first son would be named Kurt, and their daughter would bear Joanna’s mother’s name, Anna.

Emily shrugged. “We’ve talked, but there’s still plenty of time to decide. All we know is that it won’t be a combination of our names. Can you imagine a child named Cremily?”

Shaking her head in mock dismay, Joanna said, “The poor child. At least Joanna is a normal name.” Everyone in the family knew that her mother had wanted to name her Josephine Vaughn, honoring her father Joseph, but when Mother died in childbirth, Father had changed their daughter’s name to Joanna. “That way you’ll never forget that your mother’s name was Anna,” he’d told Joanna.

“We’re in no hurry to choose a name,” Emily continued. “At this point, we’re focused on rejoicing.”

“As you should be. You’ll be a wonderful mother.” One thing Joanna had known for as long as she could recall was that Emily had deep maternal instincts. “I’m surprised you and George didn’t have a child. You were married long enough.”

Inexplicably, Emily appeared uncomfortable with the idea. “It didn’t happen,” she said, “but God has given me another chance to be a mother.”

“And me a chance to be an aunt.” It would be another change, but this was a happy one.

“You broke your promise!”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“I’ll never forgive you.”

“Her anger will fade. In the meantime, it’s best if you keep your distance.”

Though Burke was hundreds of miles away, their voices echoed through his mind, first Edna’s, then Felix’s, reminders of that horrible morning when he’d returned to the infirmary and discovered Edna hysterical with grief as she cradled her mother’s body. Burke’s patient, the woman who might have been his mother-in-law, had died sooner than he’d expected. Hours later after Edna had left, Burke had discovered the cause of death: four grains of morphine were missing.

“I only gave her two,” he’d told Felix. They both knew that was all that Mrs. Arnold should have even though her pain was extreme. Four would have been a lethal dose.

“You were more than tired. You were exhausted. If you weren’t, you’d have written the amount you dispensed on her record.” Though Felix had tried to excuse him, reminding him that Mrs. Arnold’s cancer was so advanced that she wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway, Burke knew there were no ex cuses for what had happened. He’d taken an oath to do no harm, but he had. Irreparable harm.

Wrenching himself back to the present, he stared out the French doors. The light of the almost full moon shone on the creek. A few stars twinkled in the ebony sky. If he opened the door, he’d probably hear an owl hoot or a nocturnal creature scurry through the grass. Had it not been for the memories that tormented him, Burke would have called it a peaceful night, but there was no peace in his heart, simply remorse that he’d cut a life short.

If only there were a way to make amends. But nothing could erase his guilt. That was something he’d have to bear until he took his last breath.

“Have you thought about what you’d like to do today?” Emily asked as she passed the plate of toast to Della.

As had been customary when their parents were alive, Saturday breakfast consisted of nothing more than scrambled eggs and toast. Father had claimed that a meatless meal helped him think more clearly and resulted in better sermons. There were no sermons to be written today, but no one seemed to mind the simple fare. Josh and Craig piled eggs on their plates, and Noah grinned when his toast crunched.

Both Burke and Della appeared more rested than they had yesterday, but the pain Joanna had seen in Burke’s eyes had not lessened. Though he smiled as he accepted the bowl of peach jam, the smile did not reach his eyes, making her wonder whether he’d slept as restlessly as she had.

Della nodded as she spread jam on a piece of toast. “I want to visit Clive’s grave.”

“His grave?” Joanna blinked in surprise. “I don’t understand. He’s not buried here.” When Burke looked as startled by her response as she’d been by Della’s request, Joanna con tinued. “My father believed Clive was killed in the war. He’d told his friends that he was going back to Alabama to fight with the men he’d grown up with, so no one was surprised by anything other than the suddenness of his departure, but Father had expected to hear from him. When no letters came, he wanted to write to you to ask what had happened, but he couldn’t recall the name of the town where you two lived. Father spent the rest of his life regretting that he didn’t know when or where Clive died.”

Emily and Louisa’s nods confirmed Joanna’s statement. Josh and Craig, who were relative newcomers, remained silent, but Mrs. Carmichael said, “That’s what we all believed.”

The blood that had drained from Della’s face rushed back, and she shook her head vehemently. “That’s not possible, Joanna. Your father sent me a letter, telling me what happened.” Obviously distressed, she pushed back her chair and rose. “Please excuse my poor manners, but I can’t swallow another bite until this is settled. I need you to see the letter.”

She left the room, her footsteps echoing as she climbed the stairs.

“Lady sad.” Noah crumbled a corner of his toast.

She was indeed.

A few minutes later Della returned and handed a well-worn envelope to Joanna. “It’s all here.”

Her own appetite forgotten, Joanna slid the single sheet of paper from the envelope and began to read aloud. “‘Dear Miss Samuels, I regret to inform you that Clive Finley died of dysentery last evening. The doctor did everything he could but was unable to save him. I extend my condolences to you.’ Signed Joseph Vaughn.”

Della nodded slowly. “You see.”

Joanna fixed her gaze on Della. “What I see is that my father did not write this letter. It’s not his penmanship.” She extended the sheet to Emily and Louisa for confirmation. When they’d both agreed that this was not Father’s handwriting, Joanna continued. “Furthermore, he always included a Scripture reference in his letters. There’s none here.”

“But if he didn’t write it,” Burke asked, “who did?”

That was a question Joanna could not answer. “I don’t know. I don’t recognize the writing. Do you, Mrs. Carmichael?”

She studied it longer than Emily and Louisa had, then shook her head as she handed it back to Della. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“There’s one more thing.” Louisa joined the conversation. “I remember Doc Sheridan saying Sweetwater Crossing was unusual because it had never had a case of dysentery.”

“So the letter is all lies.” Burke made no effort to hide his anger, though Joanna knew it wasn’t directed at any of them. Undoubtedly, he was concerned about the effect this revelation was having on Della.

“It appears that way,” Joanna agreed.

Della’s dismay was obvious. “I don’t understand.” She picked up the letter and stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. “Who could have sent this and why would they have lied to me?”

Joanna wished she had an answer. As it was, her head was reeling with the realization that what she’d believed about the man who’d built this house was false. “I have no idea. All I know is what my father told us. There were four men who became close friends: my father, Clive, Doc Sheridan, and Mr. Albright. They used to get together every Saturday evening to talk about whatever it is men talk about when there are no ladies present. According to my father, those times were highlights of the men’s lives, and they never missed one.”

Della nodded as if she’d heard the same story.

“No one knew why Clive didn’t join them that Saturday in early 1861. It was supposed to be their last evening together, because Clive was planning to leave the following Monday.” Joanna continued the story. “Afterwards, they speculated that he’d gotten a message to return to Alabama immediately, but the postmaster said there’d been none. All anyone knew was that they never saw Clive again.”

When Della remained silent, as if trying to absorb what she’d heard, Burke’s green eyes narrowed as he addressed Joanna. “We need to learn the truth. I know your father is deceased, but maybe the other two men can help. Even though it’s been a long time, they might recall something.”

Emily shook her head. “Doc Sheridan died earlier this year. That only leaves Mr. Albright. Unfortunately, he and his wife are visiting friends who moved to Austin, and I’m not certain when they’re expected back.”

Della, who looked as if she’d aged a decade in the last ten minutes, attempted to brush away the tears that streamed down her face. “I can’t believe it. It’s almost like losing Clive a second time.”