Again Levi looked as if he were going to protest, but one glance at Drew and he shrugged and settled back on the rug. Drew watched her climb the stairs, Beth right behind her.
“That’s quite a woman,” Simon mused, stretching his feet over Levi’s prone form toward the fire.
“Never met one so determined,” James mused.
“You never met one with that kind of education, either,” John reminded him. “I like the fact that she isn’t afraid to speak her mind.”
“Bit on the bossy side,” Levi said with a yawn. “But she’ll do.”
“That she will,” Simon agreed. “The only question is, which one of us is going to marry her?”
Just what he’d feared. Drew stiffened. “No one said anything about marriage.”
Simon glanced around at his brothers. “I believe I just did.”
John nodded, brightening. “Inspired. She’s smart, and she has a skill we sorely need.”
“And she’s not bad to look at,” James added.
“You could do a lot worse, Drew,” Levi agreed.
Drew shook his head. “You’re mad, the lot of you. I’m not getting married.”
“Suit yourself.” Simon rose and went to the fireplace to scoop up a handful of kindling. “We’ll draw straws. Short straw proposes.”
Drew stared as his other brothers, except Levi, rose to their feet. “Don’t be ridiculous. She wouldn’t have any of you.”
James shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
Simon squared up the sticks and hid all but the tops in his hand, then held them out to his brothers. “Who wants to go first?”
Drew strode into their group. “Enough, I said. No one is proposing to Miss Stanway, and that’s final.”
His brothers exchanged glances. Simon lowered the sticks. “Very well, Drew. For now. But you have to marry someday if you want kin to inherit your land. You’ll never build that town for Pa unless you do. I think you better ask yourself why you’re so dead set against her.”
“And why you’re even more set against us courting her,” John added.
So one of the Wallin brothers was going to marry her. Catherine shook her head as she crossed the floor to the big bed. Either they didn’t know voices carried in the log cabin or they didn’t care that she realized their intentions. It truly didn’t matter which was the truth. She wasn’t getting married.
“Do you think bonnets or hats are more fetching on a lady?” Beth asked, following her. “I’m of a mind for bonnets. They cover more of your face from the sun, and they have extra room for decorations. Feathers are ever so flattering.”
She was chattering again, voice quick and forceful, but it seemed a bit more strained than usual, and Catherine couldn’t help noticing that Beth’s color was high as she joined Catherine. Was she trying to pretend she wasn’t aware of her brothers’ intentions?
Her patient was awake, green eyes watchful. “You mustn’t mind Simon,” Mrs. Wallin murmured, proving that she, too, had heard at least part of the conversation downstairs. The ribbon ties on her nightcap brushed the skin of her cheek. “Being the second son after Drew has never been easy. He tends to assert himself even when there’s no need.”
As Beth tidied up the room, Catherine raised her patient’s wrist to check her pulse. It seemed just a little stronger, but perhaps that was because Mrs. Wallin was embarrassed by her sons’ behavior.
“And there is no need to assert himself in this situation,” Catherine told her as she lowered Mrs. Wallin’s hand. “I’m here to help you. Nothing more.”
Mrs. Wallin shivered, and Catherine touched the woman’s forehead. Still too hot, but did she perhaps feel a little cooler than earlier? Was Catherine so desperate to see hope that she had lost her ability to be objective?
“Am I going to die?” Mrs. Wallin whispered.
Beth gasped. Catherine pulled back her hand. “Not if I can help it.”
As Beth hurried closer, Mrs. Wallin reached out and took Catherine’s hand, for all the world as if Catherine was the one needing comfort. “I’m not afraid.” Her eyes were bright, and Catherine told herself it was the fever. “I know in Whom I’ve put my trust. But my boys and Beth, oh, I hate the idea of leaving them!”
Beth threw herself onto the bed, wrapping her mother in a fierce hug. “You’re not leaving us, Ma. I won’t let you!”
The room seemed to be growing smaller, the air thinner. Catherine pulled out of the woman’s grip.
“Now, then,” she made herself say with brisk efficiency. “I see nothing to indicate your mother must leave you anytime soon. The best thing now would be for her to rest. I’ll be right here if she needs me.”
Beth straightened and wiped a tear from her face. “Yes, of course. I’ll just go help Drew.” She hurried from the loft.
“She’s a dear child,” her mother murmured, settling in the bed. “She’ll need someone besides me, another lady, to help guide her.”
Someone besides Catherine. “Rest now,” she urged, and Mrs. Wallin nodded and dutifully closed her eyes, head sinking deeper into the pillow, face at peace.
A shame Catherine couldn’t find such peace. She perched on the chair beside the bed and tried to steady her breathing. Still, the woman’s fears and Beth’s reaction clung to her like cobwebs. Who was Catherine to promise Mrs. Wallin’s return to health? Only the Lord knew what the future held. Her earthly father had drummed that into her.
We may be His hands for healing, he’d say as he washed his hands after surgery. But He will determine the outcome of our work.
And the outcome of a life.
Did he have to go, Lord? Did You need another physician in heaven? But why take Nathan, too? Did You have to leave me alone?
The tears were starting again, and she blinked them fiercely away. She’d had her fill of them months ago. She couldn’t look at the sunny yellow rooms of their home in Sudbury without seeing the book her father had left before going to war, the galoshes her brother had forgotten to pack. The polished wood pew in their community church had felt empty even though another family had joined her in it. Every time she’d walked down the street, she’d seem nothing but stares of pity from her neighbors.
Still, her father had taught her well.
You cannot let sorrow touch you, Catherine, he’d admonished. You are here to tend to their bodies. Let the Lord heal other hurts. Remember your calling.
That was what she’d done in those dark days after her father and brother had died. None of the other physicians in the area had wanted to attach themselves professionally to an unmarried nurse. Even the big cities like Boston and New York had been loath to let an unmarried woman practice. Widowed men who had known her father well offered marriage, the opportunity to mother their motherless children. Even her minister had counseled her to find a good man to wed.
When she’d seen the notice advertising Asa Mercer’s expedition to help settle Washington Territory, she’d known what to do. She’d put the house up for sale and donated their things to those in need. Then she’d packed her bags and sailed to the opposite side of the country.
All her experiences had taught her how to wall off her emotions. It did no good to question her past. She must look to her future, to the health of the community she could improve, the lives