A Lady in Attendance Page 5

  Again, questions were on the tip of his tongue, but rather than ask them, he simply took her small foot and gently washed the blisters. He was not a new dentist, unaccustomed to blood and suffering—so why then was the sight of her pain and the feel of her skin causing his heart to beat so wildly? Her body was rigid, but with each dip of the rag she seemed to relax, trusting his touch. He dared a glance up at her. Their eyes met and held each other. She touched his cheek briefly, sending a wave of energy racing through him.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking back her hand.

  He bobbed his head in acknowledgment and stole his gaze away from her. Inwardly, he chided himself for not having the perfect words to say. Words that would let her know that he would help her if she were ever in need.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll wrap them for you. But they will take time to heal. Do you have bandages at your home? Or should I send some with you?”

  “I can manage.” Hazel reached to help him, and their hands brushed together. He pulled away, startled. She put a hand on his shoulder, and again his throat grew tight. “You were right. You are a man of action and not just words. I had heard that you were just a dentist, but that is not true. You are a good man and a friend.”

  Mindful of the closeness they were sharing, he found that his hands shook. The brush of her fingers, the touch of her skin in his hands, and her affirming words had an unfamiliar effect on him. One thing was certain—he was grateful he was not merely a dentist.

  When the last toe had a bandage securely around it, he took the bowl and rag and left her to put her shoes back on. Safely away from the room, he leaned his back against the wall and took several long breaths in a vain attempt to regain his composure.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  “Come with me to the corn husking,” Ina said while readying herself for work several days later.

  “Corn husking?” Hazel had grown up going to dances and teas, and even that had been years ago. “I don’t know what that is.”

  “It’s a harvest celebration. Everyone is invited.” Ina sat before her small mirror, pinning her hair up for work. “You could bring Gilbert.”

  “I couldn’t ask him to come.”

  “All you’ve talked about the last few days is how good he was to you when he helped you with your feet. And you always have funny stories from your day. It seems the two of you have become rather close. I don’t think he’d object to joining us.”

  “We have become friends. But I couldn’t come even if I wanted to. I have too much to do.” Hazel picked up a pin Ina had dropped and handed it to her. “Here.”

  “You are not too busy to go. Aside from the rare evening where you venture out on your secret escapades, you spend your nights sitting around here just like me. I’m not too old for a good time and neither are you. Let’s not be spinsters just yet.” Ina looked at her in the mirror, her eyes pleading. “I don’t want to walk in alone. Come with me?”

  Hazel hesitated, torn between embracing a night of lighthearted entertainment and the nagging regrets. Tucked in the back of her memory were countless nights of mingling, flirting, and associating in crowded, stuffy rooms, making a fool of herself.

  “Please come,” Ina begged again. “I know you’ll have fun, and you’ll capture everyone’s attention.”

  “I’ll probably be older than everyone there.” Hazel kept her voice light despite her apprehensions. “If I went, I’d just spend my time at the refreshment table. Mrs. Northly’s cooking could use a bit more variety. We’ve eaten beans four nights in a row.”

  “Then come for the food.”

  “I’ll think about it.” And she would. And then she would politely decline. It was traitorous to pretend life was fine when she lived beneath a cloud of culpability. “I have to get going. I don’t want to be late, but we can talk about this again soon.”

  Hazel said goodbye, then rushed off to work, where the morning started out exciting enough—two rotten teeth and a perfectly fitted denture—but then slowed to a crawl.

  “Some days are like this,” Gilbert said. “I don’t mind. It’d be hard to never have a lull.”

  Hazel hardly heard him. A painting on the office wall of a golden wheat field had her thinking about harvests and celebrations. “Have you ever been to a corn husking? Ina told me about it this morning, and I admit I’m intrigued.”

  “I went when I was younger. My brother was sociable. He loved going and would drag me along.”

  “You have a brother?”

  Gilbert nodded his head slowly. “I had a brother. He left years ago. My father confronted him on something, and they argued.” He rubbed his chest as though there were an unseen wound. “I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even know where he is.”

  She swallowed, forcing her own homesick heartache away. “I’m sorry. I can only imagine the pain you must feel knowing he is out there somewhere.”

  “I pray he’ll come back someday and we can be reacquainted.” Gilbert thumbed through a pile of papers, but his eyes had a far-off look. “He was more of a talker than I am. In many ways, we were opposites. You’d have no trouble getting him to sit and fill the silence with you. He’d have you laughing in no time.”

  “It’s funny how two people from the same family can be so different.”

  “Is that the case with your family as well?”

  “I have a much larger family than yours, but yes, we are all unique. Though I am the one who sticks out the most.” She sighed, wishing once again that she could step through the front door of her childhood home and smell the familiar smell of wood polish and the cook’s dinner roasting in the oven. Oh, how she missed her family. “I do hope your brother comes back.”

  He stopped riffling through the papers and looked at her. “I pray he does. Where are your siblings now? You’ve never mentioned them. I should think with how much you talk— Uh, I meant . . . I’m surprised you’ve not spoken of them sooner.”

  She jerked her head away, fearing he’d see the whole wretched story written across her face if he looked too closely. Somehow she’d gotten too comfortable with him and allowed herself to become vulnerable and exposed. “I don’t see my family right now. But it’s not because I don’t want to. If circumstances were different . . . I love them very much.” She swallowed against the knot in her throat. “Tell me about the corn husking.”

  He stared at her, his eyes gently searching her. “All right, you keep your secrets. I didn’t mean to pry.” He picked up a peanut from a bowl on the desk and opened it. “Husking corn is a lot of work, so the big farms take turns hosting corn huskings. Everyone is invited, but those who look forward to them the most are the young people. It’s a chance to mix work and fun.”

  “Very clever of them.” She’d husked corn while on kitchen duty at the reformatory, and there was nothing thrilling about it. “It does seem there must be something more fun to do than husk corn, even this far from the big city.”

  He laughed a little under his breath. “Well, it’s really a way for the farmers to get their work done quickly. All evening the men have different husking challenges. They will see who can do fifty ears first or who can husk the most in partnerships. One or two ears—or even enough for a meal—doesn’t seem too exhausting, but when you work at it over and over, it’s tiresome. My muscles were sore for a week after I went the last time.” He rubbed at his forearms. “But the competitions are fun.”

  “And the women? What do they do?”

  “They cheer, and the louder they cheer, the faster the corn is husked. They prepare food. Some years there is a table of food to eat, and other times there is a grand feast at the end. But that’s not really why the young people go.” His statement hung in the air, and a mischievous smile played across his face.

  “What’s the real reason?” Hazel leaned forward. “Tell me.”

  “I’m not sure you’re old enough to hear such things.”

  “I’m flattered you think me so innocent, but I can
assure you that I can handle the mystery of the corn husking.” In her sweetest voice, she pled, “Please.”

  He hemmed and hawed dramatically.

  She turned her smile into an exaggerated pout. “You don’t come across as someone who would tease, but you’re relentless. I think you’re only trying to get me riled up. You’re intolerable.”

  Gilbert met her gaze, then smirked. “I suppose I’ll have to find a new attending. It’s a shame. I was enjoying your company. But I can’t have someone working for me who finds me intolerable. It wouldn’t do.”

  “I take it back. You’re not intolerable.” She laughed, wishing the playfulness could go on and on. His tease was diverting, muffling all the other noise and worries in her life. “Don’t find a new attending. You might end up with one like Alberta.”

  “Now who is being intolerable? No more talk of leaving, and don’t mention Alberta. I felt a chill creep in when you spoke her name. We both know you must stay, so I will answer your question about the corn husking.”

  Hazel clasped her hands together. “Oh good.”

  He leaned in like he was telling an impressive secret. “Whenever a man husks a red ear of corn, he gets to kiss the gal of his choosing.”

  Hazel gasped and straightened. Gilbert’s face flushed pink in the most endearing way that begged her to keep the conversation going. “And have you ever gotten a red ear?”

  “I might have.”

  “You have? Who did you kiss?” Hazel scooted closer to him. “Tell me the story. I know I’m being intolerable again, but I must know. We have to pass the time somehow.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you can be quite persuasive?”

  “I’ve been told that before.” She shrugged, unsure if he was complimenting her or not. “But I’m not trying to make you tell me if you don’t want to. I just think it would be fun to hear a story from your youth.”

  “Very well. When I was seventeen, I found a red ear. My brother was beside me and tried to snatch it. He was sweet on Lydia Ridge. If he hadn’t tried to steal it without asking, I probably would have given it to him. But I was stubborn, so I kept it and held it in the air for everyone to see.” He grimaced. “I hadn’t thought about the kissing part, only about making sure Eddie, that’s my brother, didn’t get it.”

  Hazel was on the edge of her seat, an image of Gilbert holding a red ear of corn in the air vivid in her mind. “Were you sweet on someone too?”

  “No. I’d always been Eddie’s quiet brother. The girls overlooked me. I don’t think they even knew who I was.”

  “But was there a girl you wished would notice you?” Hazel stared at his handsome, innocent face. One ounce of effort from him, and he could have his choice of devoted companions. If he would only let someone see who he was. Funny, kind, and hardworking. “Did no one catch your eye?”

  “Well”—Gilbert shifted in his seat—“I sometimes wished I was brave enough to ask Lillian Everett to dance. She lived two houses down, and we talked occasionally.”

  “What happened to Lillian?”

  “She got married. I think she lives over in Kenmore now. Probably has a houseful of children.” Gilbert stared past her as though it were all rushing back to him. “I haven’t thought about her in years. It’s strange to think everyone’s lives go on even if you don’t see them.”

  “They should all still be seventeen,” she said, making him smile. “What did you do with your red ear of corn? I’m guessing you didn’t use it to kiss the unsuspecting Lillian.”

  “I stood there with the corn in the air, and then I panicked but tried not to let it show. I looked around and caught Wesley Croft’s eye. He was four years older than I was and engaged. I walked over and dropped it in his lap. Everyone cheered when Wesley kissed Emilia, and that was the end of it.” Gilbert shrugged. “I bet you were hoping for a more exciting story. But I haven’t really had much excitement in my life.” He blushed again and lowered his voice. “Especially not with women.”

  Embarrassment? Regret? She wasn’t sure what the distant look on his face meant, only that she wished she’d known him when he was seventeen. She could have coaxed him from his shell, and he could have kept her from trouble. “Perhaps excitement is romanticized and not as fulfilling as we’re told. Did you ever find another red ear?”

  “I was more careful after that. If I ever saw a hint of red, I’d grab for a different ear. And here I am thirty and still playing by the same rules.” Gilbert scratched the back of his neck. “You’d like the corn husking. You ought to go and have yourself some fun.”

  A night of respite. A night without cares or worries. A night when she could pretend she had no soiled past. The more she thought about it, the more the idea enticed her. Here, away from Buffalo, in this rural area, perhaps she could find some enjoyment.

  “Will you go?” she asked Gilbert, desperately hoping he would say yes. With him there, she would not feel so alone. And she’d rather like to watch him husk corn and imagine him as a quiet seventeen-year-old. “Ina wants me to go with her. She says we’re still too young to live like spinsters. I don’t know if I agree, but it might be my only chance to see what a corn husking is like.”

  “You don’t think you’ll be around next year?” His voice quavered when he spoke. “You’ll be gone?”

  “I don’t know where I’ll be next year.” She sucked in a deep breath, hating how little control she had over her own life. If she were free to go and come as she pleased, where would she be? Where would she go? But she was not free and could not say where the road would lead her. “I’m here now, so I might go. You ought to come too. Join us and rebel against age. You aren’t so old that you have to accept a life of permanent bachelorhood, are you?”

  It was breaching the boundaries they’d set, but she wanted him to come. The Gilbert who had interviewed her might not enjoy a night out, but she believed the Gilbert who sat across from her now would—if he would only go.

  “The future could still hold a surprise or two.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I have any other commitments. I might just go.”

  “I’ve heard women talk about you. No doubt they’ll be pleased you’re there. If you find a red ear of corn, you could have your choice of willing women to kiss.” Hazel laughed at her own comment but instantly wished she could take it back. Something about the image she’d created didn’t sit right.

  Gilbert recoiled. “I think I’ll stay clear of red ears.”

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Hazel’s emerald dress fit her curves perfectly, then erupted into a full skirt at her hips. Her parents had sent it with her other more practical clothes upon her release from the reformatory. She frowned at her reflection. It was just a dress. And no matter how perfectly it fit, she wanted her family—not a gift and a letter.

  “Ina, do you think this dress is too fancy for a corn husking?”

  “Are you dressing up for Gilbert?” Ina walked around Hazel, inspecting her. “He will fall all over himself when he sees you.”

  “I’m not wearing it for anyone,” Hazel insisted. But if she were being honest, she would have confessed she liked the idea of seeing his eyes follow her around in her emerald dress. When he sat near her at the office, she would often look at his strong, skilled hands and wonder what it would feel like to have them around her, holding her while they danced. But she could never confess such a desire, not when she wasn’t free to court him, assuming he were to ask. “Is it too much? I’ve never been, and I don’t want to look out of place.”

  “No, you will be the envy of every woman there. You must wear it.”

  Hazel took a step backward, nearly tripping. “I don’t want to be that person. I want to look beautiful but not more beautiful than others.”

  “And you do. I wasn’t trying to say anything wrong.” Ina fidgeted with the ends of her hair. “Think nothing of my silly prattle. You look picturesque. It doesn’t matter how anyone else looks.”

  “Picturesque is ove
rly generous.” Hazel tucked a loose strand of hair back into place. “It’s nice having a reason to dress up. I rotate through the same boring skirts day after day.” She ran her hands along the bodice of the dress, amazed at how well it fit.

  Ina smoothed the collar on her nicest dress. It was deep brown and only mildly more attractive than the gray dress she wore to the school each day. It hung loosely where it should be snug and snug where it should flow. Ina, dear Ina, dreamed of romance and marriage. She believed in fairy tales and happily ever afters. Hazel’s days of courtship had left a foul taste in her mouth, but perhaps Ina would be blessed with a sweeter bite if given a chance.

  “I don’t think I will wear this after all. I think I’ll wear my blue dress. It’s freshly pressed, and I’ve always liked the cut.”

  “But this one is so beautiful,” Ina said, trying to stop her. “It’s so much finer than your blue one.”

  Hazel shimmied out of the emerald dress, with its fancy trimmings and perfectly cut bodice, and handed it to Ina. “You wear it. We are nearly the same size. Otherwise it will hang here in my room.”

  “I couldn’t.” Ina held the dress in her hands, staring at it. “Besides, no one will ever be able to see past my mark. It’s nothing but a waste for me to wear it.”

  “Maybe tonight you will get your turn at romance, and wouldn’t that be more fun in a beautiful lace-trimmed dress? You have not met everyone there is in this world. Don’t despair.” Hazel was already pulling on her simple blue dress.

  “What of your romance?” Ina asked while she stroked the lace cuff of the exquisite dress between her fingers.

  “Mr. Murdock at the dental office asked me if I wanted to go for a Sunday afternoon stroll with him. I politely declined. And then just today a Mr. Noriega asked me if I wanted to ride in his new buggy. Had he not been the age of my father, I might have been tempted.” She laughed while buttoning the cuff of her sleeve. “I can assure you, I have had my fill of romance for the week.”