Janet Dean - Courting the Doctor's Daughter

The nerve of that man. Shaking her head, Mary scooped up Ben, pushed past her adversary and hurried up the street, listening for his footsteps, but she heard nothing but her breath coming in harsh spurts.

She glanced over her shoulder. The peddler remained where she’d left him. Still, she couldn’t risk letting him know where she lived. Her hands trembled. He could show up at her door, demanding to see Ben.

Instead of going home, she’d go to The Ledger. Charles would know how to get that man out of this town.

The sooner, the better.

Realization crashed over Luke, kicking up his pulse like a runaway mustang. The boy’s name was Ben. He looked to be around four. The fact he called Mary by name and the resemblance to his childhood pictures left no doubt in his mind. This boy was his son.

Luke’s throat clogged. I’ve found him. I’ve found Ben.

The youngster looked well cared for and happy. He’d give Mary Graves that much. As soon as he determined Ben’s condition and sold the rest of his inventory, he could return to New York and his lab, assured the lad would be fine.

The prospect of never seeing his son again twisted in his gut. Odd how he’d found the boy’s every word and action enchanting. Ben’s innocence and delight tugged at Luke. That pull left him shaken, unsteady, as if the earth had shifted under his feet. He tossed the strong feeling aside, refusing to be drawn into Ben’s life.

If he did, he’d only ruin it.

But before he could leave, Luke had to know if the child had inherited the family curse. Only then could he depart in good conscience, knowing he’d armed the child’s new family with the proper knowledge, so Ben wouldn’t suffer as Luke’s brother had.

Yet, something else nagged at Luke. Why did his son call Miss Graves Mary, instead of mother? Did Ben feel unconnected?

Luke knew the feeling, knew the necessity of keeping his distance. Until he could leave, he vowed to maintain his reserve in a town that appeared woven together as tightly as a well-made blanket.

He’d already seen wariness in Mary Graves’s flashing green eyes. He suspected she could make trouble for him. How much trouble remained to be seen.

Holding Ben in her arms, Mary hustled toward The Ledger, greeting the people she knew but avoiding conversation. She couldn’t waste a moment in idle chitchat, not after that disturbing encounter with Luke Jacobs.

Inside the newspaper office, Teddy Marshall, Charles’s typesetter, ran the printing press. The noise drilled into Mary’s aching head until it throbbed. The strong smell of ink hung in the air, as if the printed words hung there too. In her mind, frightening headlines swirled: “Medicine Man Makes Off With Orphan. Local Boy Claimed By Peddler.” At the prospect of losing Ben, Mary could barely breathe.

Charles rose from behind his desk, and Mary put Ben down. Still clutching the ball, the little boy ran to his uncle, throwing his free arm around Charles’s legs, and beamed up at him. “A nice man gave me a new ball!”

Charles shot Mary a puzzled look, and then smiled at Ben. “That’s a great ball, Ben.”

Though taller and leaner than Sam, her brother-in-law looked enough like her deceased husband to have been his twin instead of his older brother. Some days the resemblance hurt, fueling Mary’s regrets, but today the likeness brought comfort. Since Sam’s death, Charles had been her rock. He would help her.

He kissed Mary’s cheek. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’ve got a headache.”

“One of your bad ones?”

She nodded. If only Charles knew. This time her headache was six feet tall and refusing to leave town.

Without a word, Charles ushered her into a chair, then led Ben into the back where he kept treats and toys for his children. Ben could play freely there while she unburdened herself to Charles.

He returned and gave her a smile. “Ben’s nibbling graham crackers and rolling his ball into the wall.” He motioned across the street. “You just missed Addie. She finished her column, then walked over to her shop to go over the accounts. Why don’t you join her for a cup of tea? I know she’d like a break, and a visit might do you good. I’ll keep an eye on Ben.”

Charles’s wife had become Mary’s best friend. She’d like nothing better than to confide in Addie. But her thoughts about Luke Jacobs were mere speculation. Still, they would alarm her sister-in-law, especially after what she’d been through with William and Emma.

“Actually, I want to talk to you.” Mary glanced out the window, relieved to see no sign of Luke Jacobs. “Alone.”

The crease deepened between Charles’s brow, and he took a seat across from her. “Sounds serious.”

“Have you heard about the new peddler in town?”

He nodded. “We’re always looking for news. Today, he was it.” He smiled. “From what my reporter said, you weren’t on the town’s welcoming committee.”

Mary bit her lower lip. “That man has me in a tizzy, Charles. First selling a remedy he concocted himself, making all kinds of claims about what it can do. Folks can’t throw their money away fast enough.”

Charles took Mary’s hand. “Just because your mother took ill from nursing a peddler isn’t a reason to judge them all.”

Mary couldn’t think about her mother. Not now.

But Charles’s words reminded her that the Bible had plenty to say about judging others—none of it good. Still, how could she protect her loved ones if she wasn’t alert when problems came knocking?

“Ben and I ran into him a few minutes ago. From the rapt expression on his face, he has a special interest in Ben. He even went against my wishes and bought him a ball.”

“I’m surprised he disregarded your authority, but I can’t see any harm in being generous.”

“I do, if he bought the ball to get into Ben’s good graces and discover his name. Why would he do that? What does he want?”

She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. Luke Jacobs meant trouble. Not merely for her or this town but perhaps for Ben, an innocent little boy she loved like her own.

Charles rose and crossed to the window, staring out on the street. Her brother-in-law guarded his opinions until he had all the facts, which Mary found both endearing and frustrating. But today she wished he’d drop his editor hat and share her apprehension, instead of refusing to sense a threat when it stared him in the face.

“Other than his expression, did he say something to alarm you?”

“Well, no, but Sheriff Rogers said when he mentioned the orphans, Luke Jacobs’s eyes lit.”

“I’d hardly call that evidence of a particular interest in our orphans.”

“Mark my words, Charles. Nothing good will come from that peddler’s presence in our town. I can feel it in here.” She tapped the spot over her heart.

Yet, if she hadn’t been taken with Luke Jacobs, why did she get lost in his dark, captivating eyes? How could that scoundrel have that control over her?

The man was a magician, pure and simple.

Charles crossed to her and took her hand. “Let’s not panic. Still, we should pray about this, asking God to put His shield around Ben.”

But even as she heard Charles’s words and admitted their wisdom, Mary knew she would not stand by waiting on God and let Luke Jacobs destroy Ben’s world.

Saturday afternoon, Luke climbed the stairs to the room over the Whitehall Café, his home in this town whether Mary Graves liked it or not.

His landlords had equipped the space with old, mismatched furniture, shabby but surprisingly comfortable and clean. When he crawled into the iron bed at night, the springs creaked, but a cozy quilt covered the mattress. Quite a change for him, a man accustomed to posh dwellings and elegant restaurants. This trip had been yet another in a long string of lessons on what mattered. With a roof over his head and food in his stomach, he had everything he needed.