Page 7 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Seven

“What a charming building.” Della smiled at Joanna and her sisters as they approached their destination.

The four of them had walked west on Creek, crossing Center to reach the place where they would spend the next hour savoring food that Joanna hoped her stomach would accept. It had rebelled this morning, even though she’d eaten no ham yesterday. The only explanation she could find was that she was suffering from what the doctors in Switzerland called overactive nerves, the result of her conversation with Burke. She’d hated—yes, hated—the pain she’d heard in his voice, but though she believed that talking about what had happened would help him, a bit like lancing a boil to let the poison drain, she’d been unable to convince him to confide in her.

That failure had led to endless speculation, which had led to a restless night filled with dreams whose details she was unable to recall other than they’d been filled with danger. And that had led to this morning’s queasy stomach. Overwrought nerves could cause stomach ailments, or so Louisa had once told her. Fortunately, by the time noon arrived, Joanna’s normal good health was restored.

“It’s clever the way it looks like two houses that were connected.” Della stopped at the end of the walk to admire the buildings Louisa used to refer to as dollhouses.

For once Emily said nothing, leaving it to Louisa to explain the origin of the tearoom and teashop she and Josh had created. “That’s because that’s what happened.”

Like Della, Joanna was impressed. “It’s hard to believe these were Mrs. Locke’s and Mrs. French’s homes a year ago.” A fresh coat of paint on the trim, the extended porch that connected the two small houses, and the simple but elegant sign proclaiming this as Porter’s had transformed ordinary dwellings into a thriving business.

Della’s eyes widened in surprise. “People lived in such small houses?”

Each of the original buildings was constructed of stone with two windows on one side of the door, a porch on the front, and an outside staircase. Where they differed was that the house on the west had its windows and stairs on the west side while the one on the east had them on the east, giving them a symmetry that Louisa said had appealed to Josh.

“They’re called Sunday Houses,” Joanna explained, “because farmers who lived a distance away would stay there when they came into town to shop on Saturday and attend services on Sunday. They weren’t designed as full-time homes, but two of Mrs. Carmichael’s friends moved into their Sunday Houses permanently when they were widowed. They said the three rooms were all they needed—a small kitchen, gathering room, and bedroom.”

Though she said nothing, Della’s expression showed she was still astonished by the thought of such a small living space. That was understandable since she’d grown up in a plantation home as large as Finley House. Joanna knew she would have trouble moving from Finley House to one of the Sunday Houses. While she didn’t need a lot of space, she needed more than they afforded.

“After the widows died,” Louisa said, continuing the story as she led the way toward the entrance, “their houses were vacant until Josh saw them. We joke that he fell in love with them before he did with me and that they’re the reason he stayed in Sweetwater Crossing.”

Della shook her head. “That’s absolute nonsense. That husband of yours is clearly smitten with you.”

Joanna agreed. There was something truly endearing about the way both of her sisters’ husbands doted on them. Kurt hadn’t been as demonstrative in public, but she’d never doubted his love. As he’d said the day he’d asked her to marry him, they filled empty spots inside each other, giving them both a new chance at happiness.

Joanna paused at the steps leading to the expanded porch and turned toward Louisa. “I’m impressed with how connecting the two porches makes the teashop and tearoom look like they were meant to be a single building.” It was a simple change and yet a brilliant one.

Her younger sister’s smile revealed her pleasure at the compliment. “We’re happy with the way everything turned out.” She directed her next words to Della. “I hope you and Joanna enjoy the tea. It’s become a favorite with many of the ladies in town.”

“Including me,” Emily said.

When Louisa opened the door on the right and ushered the others inside, Joanna grinned. “Someone likes blue.” And that someone, she was certain, was Louisa. Joanna had noticed the blue background on the sign outside and wondered if it was a harbinger of the interior. It was. Not only did the wallpaper boast a blue pattern, but each of the six tables had blue-rimmed china arranged on pale blue tablecloths.

“Did you choose the linens and china?” she asked her sister.

“Josh and I did that together.”

“But it was your idea.”

“Well ... yes.”

Della, who’d been watching the exchange, nodded. “I knew it. The room has a woman’s touch.”

“Welcome to Porter’s, ladies.” The dark-haired woman whom Joanna recognized as Louisa’s friend Caroline gave them a welcoming smile. “I’m glad to see you’re back in town, Joanna, and I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Samuels.”

She led the way to what appeared to be the tearoom’s premier table, one next to the window. “I hope you’ll enjoy your tea.”

Joanna almost laughed at the fact that Caroline, who’d been one of the star pupils when Gertrude had taught etiquette, had failed to introduce herself.

“I was going to introduce you as Caroline Brownley, but the ring on your hand tells me you have a new name.”

“Yes, I do.” Caroline’s eyes, a lighter green than Burke’s, sparkled with delight. “I’m Caroline Knapp now. My husband is the man responsible for the renovations on these buildings.”

“Raymond’s a very talented man.” Louisa never hesitated to give credit where it was due. “He built the parsonage, and he’s going to build a house for Josh and me.”

This was the first Joanna had heard that Louisa and Josh were planning to move out of Finley House. Before she could ask for more information, Louisa squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’m glad to see you so happy, Caroline. You’re the ideal wife for Raymond.”

“And he’s the ideal man for me. Now, ladies, what kind of tea would you like? We have individual pots, so each of you can choose your favorite.” She pulled a card listing the varieties of tea from the pocket in her apron and placed it on the table. “If you have difficulty reading it, let me know. Gertrude insisted we needed calligraphy, and you know how hard she is to resist once she’s made up her mind.”

All three sisters nodded, remembering the way their former teacher had drilled concepts into their heads.

Within minutes, Caroline had brought a platter of small sandwiches and scones along with the beverages the quartet had chosen. As Joanna had expected, everything was exquisitely prepared and presented, the savory flavors of the sandwiches complementing the sweet jams and honey they spread on the scones.

Della let out a sigh of contentment as she smoothed marmalade onto a piece of scone. “This is marvelous.” She looked around the room, appearing to be studying every aspect. “I know Clive never saw this, but it’s another appealing part of your town. He was right when he told me Sweetwater Crossing would be the right home for us.”

“Why did you and he want to leave Alabama?” That was part of the story Joanna had never heard.

“It was Clive’s idea. He’d heard so much about Texas that he was determined to discover whether the stories were true. Once he saw Sweetwater Crossing, he fell in love with it the way Josh did with the Sunday Houses.”

Della’s smile became wistful. “I would have gone anywhere with Clive, but my father tried his best to keep me in Alabama. That’s why he insisted Clive build such a big house. He was sure Clive would fail and that I’d have to stay in Samuels.” This time she frowned. “As it turned out, I did have to stay with Father, but now I feel as if I’ve come home.” She wrinkled her nose. “That probably sounds silly since I’ve been here only a few days, but that’s the way I feel.”

Joanna tried not to frown at the realization that Della, a newcomer, felt more at home here than she, who’d spent most of her life in Sweetwater Crossing, did at Finley House. Perhaps the feeling that everything had tilted off its axis was nothing more than a residual effect of her illness. Though the doctors had warned her that full recovery could take a long time, she doubted that was the primary reason it seemed as if she, like Mrs. Carmichael, was a boarder in what had been her home.

Oblivious to the direction Joanna’s thoughts had taken, Emily placed her cup back on its saucer and leaned toward Della. “I hope you know that you’re welcome to stay at Finley House as long as you’d like. I know I speak for the rest of the family when I say we enjoy having you with us.”

Joanna agreed. “If my parents were alive, they would say it was fitting that the woman who inspired Finley House lived there.”

“You could even stay permanently,” Emily continued. Her slightly mischievous smile told Joanna she had donned her matchmaker hat and was thinking of Harold Lindstrom. Though the Sweetwater Creek elders weren’t as adamant as the ones at Harold’s previous church, Joanna knew they preferred a married man as minister.

“That’s right.” Louisa climbed onto the matchmaking bandwagon. “Once Josh and I move out, you could have the whole third floor. We have our own sitting room, and Josh has a small office up there.”

She had planned to wait until they returned to Finley House to ask Louisa why they were building a separate home, but Joanna wouldn’t let this golden opportunity pass.

“Where will your house be?” And why do you need it? Though the second question was more important, she did not ask it.

“You know how Father used to say Finley House had enough land for at least three homes?” When Joanna nodded, Louisa continued. “We decided on the west end of the property. We’ll be right on the corner of Center Street.”

“So you’ll have a good view of Porter’s.” Della smiled as if she considered that an admirable reason for Louisa to leave her childhood home.

“There’s also a view of the cemetery,” Louisa pointed out. “Neither was the reason we chose that location. The primary attraction was the big live oak. Our plan is to situate the house so the tree’s in our front yard. I want to hang a swing from one of the branches, and Josh—practical Josh—likes the idea that the tree will block some of the summer sun and keep the house cooler.”

“Plus, they’ll have more privacy in their own home.” Emily’s smile was rueful. “Craig and I do our best, and so does Mrs. Carmichael, but Noah’s at the inquisitive age. No matter how many times we tell him not to, he manages to elude even the most watchful eye and climb those stairs to the third floor.”

Della’s chuckle said she found Noah’s antics amusing. “He’s a boy. Burke was just as adventurous when he was that age.”

Joanna caught her breath as the image of a boy with red hair, green eyes, and a mischievous grin flitted through her brain. Had Burke been as adorable as Noah? Yes, her instincts told her. Even more so.

“Have we convinced you to stay?” Emily steered the conversation back to the point she’d been trying to make.

“I’m not sure about permanently, but the thought of extending my visit is enticing,” Della admitted, her voice thickening with unshed tears. “You’re all kind to make me feel so welcome. I wish there were something I could do to repay you. I know you don’t need anything at Finley House, but I want to contribute to the town.”

“There is something you could do.”

Joanna suspected Della was as surprised as she was by Emily’s quick response. Was whatever she was about to suggest part of her sister’s attempt at matchmaking?

“I believe I told you that my friend Alice was the librarian and that the library’s been closed since she moved away. Would you consider serving as our librarian for however long you’re here? The town would benefit from that, even if it’s only temporary.”

Della’s radiant smile left no doubt of her response. “I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more.”

He still wasn’t accustomed to the doorbell. He and Felix hadn’t had one on their office, but according to Louisa, her predecessor had believed it an essential part of a medical establishment. When he heard the tinkle, Burke rose and walked toward the hallway, wondering who had come in Louisa’s absence.

“I wondered if you’d stay here while my sisters and I take Della to tea at Porter’s,” she had said the previous afternoon when she explained her plan. “We’d invite you, but the tables are for four.”

“And afternoon tea is not something most men enjoy.” Burke completed the sentence.

“Also true. I doubt anyone will come, but I’ll feel better if you’re here.”

She’d feel even better now that a potential patient had entered the office. Burke studied the man who was lumbering through the hallway, clearly having difficulty putting weight on his right foot. Taller and larger than most, he walked at a quarter the normal speed of a man his age, the winces that he tried to suppress confirming Burke’s initial diagnosis.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Burke extended his hand to the dark-haired patient whose eyes, almost the same shade of brown as Joanna’s, radiated pain. “I’m Dr. Finley.”

“Herb Oberle.” The man’s grip was firm, a good sign. “The wife tole me you was here. Ken you help me? Doc Sheridan tried, but it din’t do no good.” Mr. Oberle pointed to his feet. “It’s the gout.”

Exactly what Burke had assumed from Mr. Oberle’s gait, although he needed an examination for confirmation. “Let’s take a look at your foot.” He ushered him into the office.

When Mr. Oberle removed his boot and sock and extended his foot, Burke nodded. As he’d expected, the man’s large toe was swollen.

“It hurts somethin’ fierce,” Burke’s patient said. “Wakes me up purty near every night. I tell you, Doc, it’s the worst pain I ever knowed. The wife tells me it ain’t true, but I could swear the sheet weighs a ton. Ken you help me?”

“I hope I can. What did Dr. Sheridan prescribe?”

Mr. Oberle shrugged. “Some big pills. I cain’t ’member what he called ’em.”

“But they didn’t help.”

“No, sirree. Turned my innards inside out, but din’t help the pain.”

Keeping his expression neutral, though he suspected Dr. Sheridan had given the man one of the purgatives that had little effect on gout, Burke asked, “What do you eat for supper most nights?”

His patient blinked in surprise. “Same things most folks do—meat, some potatoes, big piece of pie.”

“Does the meat include liver and kidneys?”

Mr. Oberle grinned. “Sure does. The wife don’t like ’em, but I sure do.”

“Do you drink milk with your meal?”

A look of pure horror crossed the man’s face. “’Course not. Beer’s the only thing I drink. What would folks think if the fella who brews the best beer in the county drank milk?” He narrowed his eyes as he regarded Burke with suspicion. “How come you’re askin’ what I eat and drink?”

Knowing it was critical to establish his credibility, Burke adopted his most conciliatory tone. “Some doctors believe there’s a connection between what we eat and drink and gout. If they’re correct—and there’s some evidence that they are—beer and rich meats like liver and kidneys cause gout.”

Horror changed to curiosity. “How come Doc Sheridan never said that?”

“He may not have read the same journals that I do.” When Felix had joined the practice, he’d continued his subscriptions to Eastern medical journals, admitting that he rarely read them but that he thought Burke might find them useful.

Mr. Oberle was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I cain’t stop drinking beer.”

Burke wasn’t surprised by the response, particularly from a man whose livelihood was based on the fermented beverage. “The choice is yours. I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want, but given the intensity of your pain, I would strongly advise you to consider eliminating beer.”

After a silence that seemed to last a week, Mr. Oberle’s expression turned from hostile to cautious. “You won’t tell no one?”

“Of course not.”

“All right.” The man grimaced as he tugged his sock over his swollen foot. “I’ll try it.”

After his patient left and Burke had entered the details of the appointment in Louisa’s record book, he grinned, remembering how he’d debated which journals to bring with him, finally settling on two from Boston. They were typically less interesting than the ones from Philadelphia, but he’d been drawn to one in particular. It was no coincidence that that one had included the article about diet and gout. That was clearly the hand of God at work.

“Take a deep breath, hold it for four seconds, then exhale slowly.”

Joanna was grateful that Burke had waited until they reached the end of the driveway before he issued the command. If they’d been inside the house or on the front porch and Louisa had overheard him, she would have interrupted, wanting to know why he was advising that. And, much as she loved her sister, Joanna did not want to share her time with Burke. He’d been in Sweetwater Crossing only a few days, but in those few days, he’d become more than a visitor, more than a boarder in Finley House. He’d become a friend and a confidant, and Joanna cherished the time they spent together.

She wouldn’t tell him that, of course, for it wasn’t seemly. Instead, she responded to his instruction. “Herr Ridel taught me to take deep breaths before I played. He claimed it would calm my nerves.”

Joanna saw surprise on Burke’s face. “I can’t imagine you being nervous. You always seem composed.”

That was so far from the truth that she chuckled. “Believe me, I was a bundle of nerves when I had to play before strangers.”

“Did deep breaths help?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, as if he’d expected her response. “They’ll also help your lungs heal.”

“Are you going to tell me deep breaths are a form of stretching?”

It was Burke’s turn to chuckle. “How’d you guess?”

She took a deep breath, held it as he’d advised, then exhaled slowly. “When I do that, I feel as if they’re expanding.”

“They are. Three more breaths, and then we can continue walking.”

When they began strolling along Creek, Joanna spoke again. “I heard you had your first patient while Louisa was gone.”

“Based on the timing, I suspect he waited until he saw your sister leave. His wife was in the office yesterday and warned Louisa that he didn’t trust what he called lady doctors.” Burke paused for a second. “I’m not sure he trusted me at first, but he finally agreed to do what I suggested ... at least for a few days.”

Joanna knew better than to ask what the man’s ailment had been or what Burke had recommended. Instead, she said, “I’m glad you were willing to keep the office open so Louisa could join us for tea. She wouldn’t have come otherwise, but it was a special afternoon with the three of us and Della. In only a few days, your aunt’s become part of the family.”

Burke quickened the pace ever so slightly, an action Joanna suspected was meant to make her breathe more quickly. “I’ve never seen her so happy.” His breathing hadn’t changed, but Joanna’s was more labored. “I know Della said it was only temporary, but once she starts working in the library, I’ll be surprised if she wants to leave.”

“My sisters and I hope that’s true. Being at the library may help her learn more about Clive. She talked to Mrs. Sanders—she’s the manager of the teashop—today, but her only memories of Clive were that all the single girls fancied themselves in love with him.”

Burke raised an eyebrow. “What did Della say about that?”

“She laughed and told Mrs. Sanders she couldn’t blame them. After all, she fell in love with him too.”

“And unlike many, she never fell out of love.”

Burke’s quiet observation startled Joanna. It was an unexpected direction to take their conversation. “I don’t think it’s possible to fall out of love, not if it’s true love.”

She paused for a second, wondering why Burke had raised the specter of love dying. It almost sounded as if he’d had firsthand experience, yet even if he had, that didn’t explain why he’d said “many.” Surely Della’s experience demonstrated the durability of love. Even now, decades later, she still loved Clive.

Sensing that Burke was waiting for her to continue, Joanna said, “Kurt and I were married only a short time, but he’ll always have a special place in my heart.” Because, unlike what she’d once believed to be her first love, her feelings for Kurt had been more than a passing fancy. Perhaps what Burke had experienced or witnessed had been infatuation masquerading as love.

“Do you think you’ll marry again?”

The question was as unexpected as Burke’s comment about falling out of love. Joanna was silent for a moment, unsure of her response. Widows often remarried, particularly if they were young. Yet others did not, claiming they’d lost the one man they could love. Would she be like Emily, blissfully happy in her second marriage, or Mrs. Carmichael, content as a widow?

“I don’t know.”