Chapter One
Lydia Colburn refused to allow a child to bleed to death.
Pulling a sprig of gray tree leaves out of her wind-whipped hair, she rushed
inside the farmhouse and found the injured boy sprawled across the bed exactly
as Mr. McIntosh had said she would. She dropped her medical bag on the floor
beside Mrs. McIntosh, who was holding a blood-soaked rag against young
Matthew’s lower leg.
The globe of an oil lamp provided the only light in the dim
bedroom. Matthew’s breath came in rapid spurts. Lydia touched his clammy skin.
“He’s still losing blood. Get the pillows out from under his head.” She slid
her hands beneath his fractured limb and gently lifted it away from the
mattress. “Put them here under his leg.”
Mrs. McIntosh’s thin hands shook as she moved the pillows.
“I gave him tea from the gray leaf tree as soon as his father brought him in
the house.” Her voice cracked. “I know he doesn’t feel the pain now, but it
hurts me just to look at all this blood.”
“You did the right thing.” Lydia opened her medical bag and
selected several instruments. She peeled back the bloody rag, revealing the
fractured bone. Its crisp, white edges protruded through his torn skin. “You’re
going to be all right, Matthew. Do you feel any pain?”
“No, but it feels weird.” His chin quivered as he stared at
his mother with swollen eyes. “Am I going to die?”
Mrs. McIntosh drew her lips into her mouth and stroked his
head. “You’re going to be fine. Miss Colburn will fix it.”
When Lydia touched the boy’s leg, he recoiled and screamed.
It was not from pain but from terror. With his fractured leg tucked close to
his body, he buried his face into the pleats of his mother’s dress.
Lydia gave Mrs. McIntosh a chance to muster her courage and
make her son cooperate, but instead she coddled him. Though Lydia appreciated a
nurturing mother, this was no time to help a child hide his wound. “Your mother
is right. You’re going to be just fine.” She reached for his leg again. “You
don’t have to look at me, but you must leave your leg on the pillow. Matthew?
Let me straighten your leg.”
Mrs. McIntosh glared at the bloody wound and began to weep.
“Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry. My baby!”
“Mrs. McIntosh?” Lydia raised her voice over the woman’s
sobs. “Rebecca! I know this is hard, but please have courage for Matthew’s
sake. I need you to help me. Can you do that?”
Mrs. McIntosh sniffled and squared her shoulders. “Yes. I’m
sorry, Lydia.”
“I need more light. Do you have another lamp in the house?”
“Yes, of course.” Mrs. McIntosh wiped her nose on her sleeve
and scurried out of the room.
Relieved that Mrs. McIntosh was gone, Lydia caught the boy’s
eye. She touched his foot with both hands. “Matthew, you must lie still while I
work on your leg. You won’t feel any pain since you were a good boy and drank
the gray leaf tea your mother made, but now you have to be brave for me and
hold still. All right?” She was prepared to hold him down but loathed the
thought.
Matthew allowed her to move his broken leg back onto the
pillow. She worked quickly and methodically until the bleeding was under
control. She cleaned his flesh with gray leaf oil then looked into the open
wound and aligned the bone.
Mrs. McIntosh’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, but Lydia
was not ready for the anxious mother’s return. “Please, bring cold water and a
few clean rags first. I need them more than I need the extra light.” The
footsteps receded.
She continued to work. Matthew’s eyes were clenched shut.
Her heart ached for the pallid and broken boy. “I heard you had a birthday
recently, Matthew. How old are you now? Fifteen? Sixteen?”
He opened his eyes but stared at the ceiling. “I’m seven,”
he slurred through missing teeth. His respiration had settled; the gray leaf’s
healing power was beginning to take effect.
“Ah, I see you’ve lost another baby tooth.” She cut a piece
of silk thread for suture and kept the needle out of his sight while she
threaded it. “Soon you will have handsome new adult teeth.”
He closed his eyes again and lay still.
Mrs. McIntosh walked back into the room with a pitcher of water
in her hands and a wad of kitchen towels tucked under her elbow. She set the
water jug on the floor beside Lydia’s feet and bundled the rags on the bed. “Is
that enough?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll be right back with the lamp.” Mrs. McIntosh vanished
from the room again.
Lydia covered the stitches with a thick layer of gray leaf
salve. As she wrapped his leg loosely with clean muslin, the front door slammed
and a man’s worried voice drifted down the hallway.
Mrs. McIntosh spoke to her husband in a hushed tone and then
walked into the bedroom holding a lamp. She sighed. “Oh, thank heavens you’re
done.” She lit the lamp and placed it on a doily-covered table by the bed. As
she sat on the edge of the mattress beside Matthew, she whispered, “He’s
asleep.”
Lydia slathered her hands with the disinfecting gray leaf
oil and wiped them on a clean rag. As she gathered her medical instruments, Mr.
McIntosh stepped in from the bedroom doorway, holding his wide-brimmed hat in
his hands.
He cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do?”
Lydia replied, “I need a couple thin pieces of wood to
splint his leg.”
Mr. McIntosh nodded and left the house. While he was gone,
Lydia cleaned and packed her instruments. A short time later, he returned with
two flat wooden shingles. Lydia used them to splint Matthew’s leg and gave Mr.
and Mrs. McIntosh instructions for bandaging and cleaning their son’s wound.
She handed Mrs. McIntosh a jar of gray leaf salve. “Use this
twice a day on the wound. With rest and proper use of the medicine, he should
heal completely in a few days.”
She followed Mr. and Mrs. McIntosh out to the porch. Stars
crowded the clear sky and crickets’ intermittent chirps pierced the cool night
air. Lydia’s horse snorted as Mr. McIntosh gathered the reins and walked it to
her.
“Thank you, Lydia.” Mrs. McIntosh fanned her face with both
hands.
Mr. McIntosh wiped his brow with a cotton handkerchief. “It
seems too dangerous of a job for a woman—taking the forest path alone at night
like you did to get here.” He slapped his hat back on his head and dabbed at
the sweat on his neck. “I’m grateful you got here in time to save my boy, no
doubt about it, but the way you rushed down the forest path instead of taking
the main road worried me. Granted you beat me back here by twenty minutes, but
still it’s too dangerous at night to—”
“I haven’t seen a night dark enough to keep me from my
duty.” She stepped around Mr. McIntosh and strapped her medical bag to the
saddle.
He nodded. “That’ll be the last time Matthew climbs to the
roof of the barn.”
“Yes. Please see to it.” She tucked a loose strand of hair
behind her ear.
Mr. McIntosh handed her the reins. “I heard your family will
be gathering tomorrow night to celebrate Isabella’s seventy-fifth birthday. How
about I deliver a lamb roast as your payment?”
“I accept. I’ll tell my father to expect you.” She mounted
her horse. “Aunt Isabella will be glad to have roast lamb at her party.”
“A lamb it is. Thank you, Miss Colburn. Oh, and do take the
road back to the village. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you
on your way home.”
* * *
Lydia surveyed the feast as she straightened the
turtle-shaped brooch pinned to her dress. Satisfied with the preparations for
Isabella’s party, she left the kitchen through the wide entrance to the parlor,
walked past the staircase, and knocked on her great-aunt’s bedroom door.
“Come in,” Isabella answered with a gravelly voice.
Lydia turned the glass doorknob and stepped inside. The dark
room and unmade bed struck a chord of sadness in her heart. She left the door
open, and the afternoon sunlight that filled the rest of the house spilled into
the room.
Isabella was sitting in her rocking chair by a curtained
window. Her knitting needles clicked in rhythm. “What is it, dear?”
“We are ready for you, Aunt Isabella.” Lydia smiled as she
spoke, but her blind aunt’s face remained impassive.
Isabella continued knitting for a moment then lowered the
yarn and needles into the basket beside her chair. She reached for her cane. “I
do hate a fuss. I hope you didn’t waste time on decorations. They are a
frivolity.”
Lydia walked closer. “No, there aren’t any decorations, but
the food looks wonderful. Mr. McIntosh delivered a roast lamb, and it smells
delicious. Everything is ready for you. Won’t you come to the kitchen?”
“It does smell good.” Isabella’s fingers traced the cane’s
curve. “Seventy-five. Isn’t that old?” She sounded surprised by her own age.
Lydia knelt beside her and touched her arm. “I think
seventy-five is lovely.”
“Sweet girl.” Isabella patted the top of Lydia’s hand. “I’m
blind and even I can see that seventy-five is old.” She leaned on her cane and
remained in her chair. Her lips twitched before she spoke. “I mostly thought of
my mother today. I always do on my birthdays. I suppose that’s odd after all
these years.”
“Not at all.”
“Yes, you understand. You miss your mother as much as I miss
mine. You always will, dear. I assure you.” Isabella stood with slow, stiff
movements. “Have your father and Levi come in from their chores yet?”
“Yes, they’re washed up and waiting in the kitchen. Maggie
and Adeline made all your favorite dishes, and Bethany came straight home after
school to help too. You should have stayed in the kitchen with us while we
cooked. We had an enjoyable afternoon together.”
“The four of you girls together in the kitchen all afternoon
and with the little ones whining at your feet—” Isabella guffawed. “My years of
finding that enjoyable have passed. Besides, I don’t like a crowd—not for long
anyway.”
“Maggie and Adeline and their families so rarely visit. I
like it when we’re all together.”
Isabella smoothed the front of her dress. “Is Mandy here? I
want her to play her violin in the parlor while we eat so I can hear the
music—but not too loud. Tell her not too loud.”
“Yes, she knows.”
Isabella held her cane in one hand and found Lydia’s elbow
with the other. “Which dress are you wearing?”
“The maroon one with the white lace at the bottom.”
“Your blue dress is softer.”
“It isn’t cold enough tonight to wear the blue dress.”
“It will be cold soon; the equinox is coming. I can feel it.
The atmosphere changes somehow on the autumn equinox. It always has. Do you
have on your mother’s brooch?”
“Of course.” Lydia touched the silver turtle pinned to her
dress over her heart.
Isabella took one step and stopped. She waved her cane in
front of her. “I was born in this house, just as you were. Not in this
particular room. After your grandfather and I were born, our father added this
room onto the house. Then when your grandfather married your grandmother, they
made this my own private room. They added a new nursery onto the house when
your father was born. Oh, how they hoped for many children, but neither of your
father’s siblings lived past infancy.” Isabella sighed then smiled, causing
Lydia to wonder if the nostalgic interlude was authentic sentiment or a stall
tactic. “But when your father married your mother and they had the five of you
children, well, that’s when the house finally felt full to me.”
They inched out of the bedroom then Isabella stopped in the
hallway. She faced Lydia, but her unseeing eyes didn’t settle. “I’ve lived
seventy-five years in this house, and none of my time was wasted so long as I’m
not a burden.”
“You aren’t a burden to anyone. We all love you, and that’s
why we are honoring you tonight. Come now, everyone’s waiting.”
Isabella straightened her posture as if readying herself for
the crowd. “I can face another seventy-five years, so long as I find a way to
make myself useful.”
Lydia walked Isabella into the kitchen. After her father
said the blessing, she filled a plate at the buffet table and scanned the room
for a place to sit. Unable to find a seat in the crowded kitchen, she took her
plate to the staircase in the parlor. From there she could see into the nearby
kitchen where her family crammed around the table with Isabella.
One of Lydia’s brothers-in-law sat between his two small
children at the table, and the other brother-in-law sat nearby on the edge of
the stone hearth with his plate balanced on his open palm. Her two-year-old
niece couldn’t reach the breadbasket and began to cry. The men strained to keep
their conversation going over the top of the other voices. The flurry of
familial sounds flowed into the parlor.
Levi walked out of the loud kitchen and sat beside her on
the staircase. Her brother grinned as he handed her a napkin. She took it and
offered him an olive. He popped the olive into his mouth and followed it with a
forkful of potatoes from his plate. Then his expression changed as his gaze
settled on the violinist in the corner of the parlor.
Mandy Foster stood near the front door playing slow and soft
music on her heirloom violin. Her eyes were closed as the notes flowed from the
instrument. A blanket of auburn curls covered her back and danced along her
trim waistline.
Lydia glanced at her brother as he watched Mandy. “She’s
beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and she knows it.” Levi looked back at his food.
Lydia let it go. She took the bread roll from her plate and
picked off one bite at a time as she listened to Mandy’s music. One tune ended
and another began. “This is the song she composed for the dance last year. I
like it.”
“It would sound even better if she played it on one of the
new wood violins.”
Lydia smiled and nudged his knee. “That might be true, but
don’t let Aunt Isabella hear you say it. She has strong opinions about the new
wood instruments.”
Levi nodded and continued eating, watching Mandy all the
while.
When they finished eating, Lydia relaxed into Levi’s thick
shoulder. Though ten months her junior, he had been bigger than she since they
were toddlers. People who didn’t know their family usually assumed he was
older.
“Come with me tomorrow and see the land I selected.” His
voice held a secretive tone. She shifted and looked at him. His light brown
eyes matched hers. His hair was the same light brown as hers, but his included
lighter strands from days spent working in the sun. “I’m done with the land
survey, and I started drawing plans to build.”
“Does Father know?”
“Of course he knows, but he doesn’t understand.” He tapped
one foot rapidly on the stair. “I’m a grown man. I want to build my own house.”
“And so you should. People just don’t understand why you
need to build a new house. They expect you to inherit this house one day, so it
seems odd for the overseer’s son to break from tradition—especially since you
don’t have a family of your own yet.”
He sighed. “Father says the same things. But I don’t live my
life worrying about what other people might think. You’re like Father—you both
take comfort in the founders’ traditions—but I thought you understood me.”
“I do. And I’m sure you’ll build yourself a fine house
someday, but you should try to find a way to do it that doesn’t cause strife.”
“It’s not the fact that I want to build my own house that
offends Father. It’s that I want to build my own life.” His frustration was
palpable.
“This tension between you and Father has been building for
years, and I understand both sides. Father followed Grandfather’s footsteps
gladly. You are his only son. He has always had the same expectations for you.
But you’re right—you should be able to decide how to spend your life and where
to live.”
Levi pushed his hand through his hair. “Then why does Father
condemn me for not being exactly like him?”
“He doesn’t question your character—only your choice of
profession.”
“I’ve been told all my life I should be a preacher just as
my father is and his father was before him. But I’ve never felt called to that
profession. If I were, I would gladly obey. But I’m not. Just thinking of it
fills me with anxiety.” He shook his head. “No. Give me a hammer instead. I'd
rather build all day long.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “You’re an excellent carpenter,
and your work is needed by the village. Be proud that you have the strength for
building—many men don’t.”
“Father has the strength for anything.”
“But he prefers preaching. Try to remember, he is
peace-loving above all. This friction between you two won’t last forever. I
truly believe that.”
Mandy finished her song, and Lydia and Levi clapped. The
sound caused a brief silence in the kitchen, followed by a short applause.
Mandy gently placed the violin in its case like an infant in a bassinet. She
used both hands to corral her curls into a loose bun at the nape of her neck
then lifted her violin to play again.
* * *
Lydia’s morning office routine was interrupted by a visit
from Levi. She didn’t have a patient, so it seemed like a good time to go look
at the land where her brother hoped to build. Levi sat beside her desk as she
straightened her office and prepared to leave with him. Startled by a shrill
voice yelling outside, she rushed to the office door. Levi beat her to it and
yanked it open.
She stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck, trying to see
what the commotion was. Auburn curls bounced as Mandy Foster stomped to the
cottage.
Levi held the door open for Mandy, but he didn’t leave the
doorway. He furrowed his brow at Mandy. “What were you yelling about, woman?”
Mandy brushed his shoulder as she passed him and looked at
Lydia. “I could see that little rat from the road! He had his head at your
window, peeping in, you know?”
Instantly mortified, Lydia put her palm over her stomach and
lowered herself into the chair at her desk. “No, I did not know.”
Levi threw his hands into the air. “Who?”
“Who do you think?” Mandy spat the question at him.
“Frank Roberts?” Levi’s nostrils flared. “I’d like to teach
that degenerate a lesson!”
“Levi!” Lydia scolded. “You will do no such thing.”
“It would serve him right!” Levi fumed.
Lydia propped her elbows on her desk and pressed her fingers
to her temples. The strange loner only came into the village to follow her
around. She cringed at the thought of Frank Roberts paying her any attention,
let alone in a way that others might notice. And now someone had witnessed him
peeping in her window. Scandalous gossip would not help her chance of receiving
her title from the village elders, not to mention what everyone might think.
Levi and Mandy knew her and loved her, but did they think less of her because
of Frank’s behavior?
The wooden floorboards creaked as Mandy paced them. “It
would put Frank right here inside Lydia’s home because she would have to stitch
his battered face. Oh, he’d love that! Go ahead, Levi, give Frank exactly what
he’s after—Lydia’s attention!”
Mandy and Levi exchanged a fiery glance. At least they were
angry at the same person and not at each other. Levi marched to Lydia’s desk
and dropped into the chair beside it. He drummed one finger on the top of the
desk with rapid thumps.
Lydia wanted to diffuse their anger and hoped they would
forget about the incident. “I have dealt with Frank for years,” she said,
forcing her voice to sound unaffected. Though certain she had caused Frank’s
unrelenting attraction to her, she would never admit it to anyone. “He’s
harmless.”
“Harmless?” Levi raked his hand through his hair. “Lydia,
the man was just staring in your window. Frank is a pervert, and he has become
bolder in his depraved behavior since you moved out here by yourself last year.
You should move back into the house.”
Lydia’s embarrassment made her nauseous. She shouldn’t have
confided in Frank all those years ago; it had ignited his affection and made
her responsible for his advances. But no one else could ever know that.
“Please, stop it, Levi. I feel terrible when anyone speaks of him. And I won’t
move back into the house. Since Doctor Ashton is no longer able to care for
himself—let alone others—I’m now the village’s only physician. It’s important
that I’m accessible to the people.”
Mandy halted her pacing. “Levi is right. You need protection
if you’re going to live out here by yourself.” She turned to sit, but when she
only saw the patient cot behind her, she remained standing. “As long as you’re
unmarried you are available for harassment to a man like that.”
Lydia found Mandy’s suggestion of marriage ironic and
smiled. “You sound like Aunt Isabella.” She looked at Levi when he snickered
then she returned her attention to Mandy. “I have yet to encounter a danger
great enough to give up my medical practice and get married. And even if I did
marry, I doubt it would deter a man like Frank. I will put curtains over the
windows.” She stood and brushed her hands together. “Yes, curtains. Problem
solved. That should ease your minds.”
Mandy reached for a long strand of curl and twirled it in
her fingertips. “Still, I think every woman should at least consider a
husband.” Her green eyes looked at Levi.
Lydia looked at Levi too, but he continued staring out the
window. She thought he wasn’t listening. Then slowly he turned his gaze toward
Mandy. “This from the woman who prefers to forgo the deep affections of one man
in favor of the distant admiration of many men.”
Mandy grinned and lowered her pointed chin. Lydia marveled
at how Mandy’s mood could change from aggressively angry to playfully offended
without a breath in between. At least they were no longer talking about Frank
Roberts. Her secret was safe for now.
Levi blew out a breath and stepped to the door. “Lydia, come
and get me when you are ready to go look at that land we spoke of last night.
I’ll be in the barn.”
After he closed the door, Lydia grinned at Mandy. “Sometimes
I think you torment him on purpose.”
“What do you mean?” Mandy smiled wickedly as she moved to
the chair left vacant by Levi. She sat and crossed her legs high above the
knee.
“Any time you suggest marriage as the solution to a woman’s
problem, I detect insincerity.”
“All right, so I felt like aggravating Levi a bit. He can
handle it. Would you rather I had pointed out that it’s not your singleness
that causes your trouble—it’s your fear?”
“Fear?” She almost laughed. “I’m not afraid of Frank.”
“Maybe not. But you’re afraid of what people think of you
because of Frank.” Mandy nodded once as if confirming her statement. “See—it is
fear. You’re afraid others will think that if someone as wretched as Frank
Roberts loves you, you must be wretched too.”
Lydia cringed at the truth in her friend’s assessment. “That
would make me rather snobbish, wouldn’t it?”
Mandy traced her finger along the wood grain on the top of
the desk, and her face became solemn. “After your mother died, you went to
great lengths to prove to everyone that you were all right. You still strive to
present yourself as perfect as possible.”
“I’d hardly consider that a fault, Mandy. Father says it is
important for someone in my position to have a good reputation.”
“Your position as the overseer’s daughter?”
“Well, yes, the village has certain expectations of me in
that regard, but I meant as a physician. People won’t feel they can come to me
for help if I appear to be in need of help, which I am not. Besides, I’m still
awaiting the elders’ decision to award me the title of doctor. I don’t want
anything to jeopardize that honor. If they knew a man like Frank Roberts
follows me around, they might question my aptitude… my morality. I studied and
trained for years for this position. I intend to see it through.”
“And so you will. I’m sure of that.” Mandy’s fingers left
the desk and found a curl to play with. She glanced at the door then back at
Lydia. “I have to teach the music class for the primary students today. Come
with me to the school. It will do you good to get out of here for a while.”
She rose from her desk. “Thanks, but Levi is waiting for
me.”
“Ah, yes, his land.” Mandy winked and sauntered back to the
road.
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