They finalized the exchange, and Adam hitched the gelding to the buggy and climbed in, testing the feel of the reins in his hands.
“Now you look like a proper doctor.” Mr. Young grinned around his cigar.
“If only I could get some proper patients.”
“Eh, folks’ll come around.” The banker shrugged. “That last feller left a bad taste in people’s mouths. Just give ’em time. When they need you bad enough, they’ll come.”
Adam was trying. But how much time was enough before he took further measures, whatever those might be?
Adam drove his new horse and rig back to the office and let the gelding out in the fenced field with the Jorgensens’ horses, his mind turning. He didn’t want people to go sick or injured without treatment because of fear. Should he consider calling a town meeting, perhaps with Caldwell and Young’s endorsement? Surely having the backing of two of the few professional men in town could make a difference.
What to do, Lord? He rubbed the gelding’s nose. He needed a name for this fellow.
And what to do about Forsythia? He’d be out at the Nielsens’ tomorrow. This issue was going to hit him head on, ready or not.
24
What could Forsythia possibly say to Adam?
She attacked the clumped soil in the garden plot with her spade. Since garden work was easier than haying, she’d been assigned here after a morning in the fields fairly wore her out yesterday. The plot had been plowed and planted the year before, and Lark and Lilac had cleared the worst of the weeds, but the soil needed to be broken up again.
It was good thinking work. And good for releasing frustration over how soon the doctor and Jesse might arrive for the haying.
“Miss Sythia, look!”
At Robbie’s call, Forsythia leaned on her spade and smiled at the children following her in the soft dirt. Robbie held up a wriggling earthworm, his grin creasing his face in half.
“I see! Very nice. Put it back, though, Robbie boy. Earthworms are good for the garden.”
“Can I show Sofie first?”
“Very well, then back it goes.”
“Look, Sofie.” Cradling the worm in his hands, Robbie bent to show the little girl, who squatted on her haunches, poking a stick in the dirt in imitation of Forsythia’s spading. Her rosebud mouth opened in an O as she stared at the moist pink worm.
“All right, put it back now.” Forsythia made her voice firm. “We don’t want it to dry out.”
“Because if it dries out, it’ll die, right, Miss Sythia?” Robbie carefully slid the worm back into the furrow.
“That’s right.”
She still needed to decide what to have Robbie and the other children call her long-term. Auntie Sythia? Mama? What was right? She glanced toward the house, where they’d pulled Mikael’s cradle outside. He was quiet, so he was still napping. The cradle had come from the Durhams’ wagon, no doubt used for Robbie and allowed to take up valuable space in hopes of the new baby to come. That little one had never used it, but baby Mikael did. She hoped that brought a smile to Alice’s face in heaven.
Forsythia turned back to spading, having finished one length of the plot already. Not a bad start this early in the morning, though heat already rose from the sun-soaked earth.
“Sythia! Come look what we’ve got.”
At Lilac’s call, Forsythia looked up again. She’d make little progress with this many interruptions.
Lilac hurried toward her, her dark curls flying free of her sunbonnet and face beaming. She clutched her apron around . . . a bundle of wiggling feathers?
“Chickens. Jesse brought us chickens.” Out of breath, Lilac hurried to the edge of the garden plot and opened her apron for Forsythia to see. “A batch of chickens someone was giving away. Mr. Jorgensen had them at the store. He was only too glad to get rid of them, Jesse said. Isn’t it wonderful? They should be laying by fall. There are more, if we want to go to town to get them.”
“Wonderful.” Forsythia smoothed her finger over the coppery feathers of one bird. Three half-grown, leggy young chickens stirred in Lilac’s apron. “We definitely need a barn of some sort now.”
“Jesse and the doctor are going to help us put together a temporary coop before they leave. Lark says she’ll go into town for chicken wire.” Lilac hesitated. “They’re already in the field, but the doctor asked about you.”
“He did?” Forsythia’s heart flipped.
“Well, he asked where you were, at least.” Lilac cocked her head, compassion in her eyes. “You’ll speak to him, won’t you?”
“If he’ll speak to me.” Forsythia turned back to her spade.
She didn’t see Adam until she took water to the fieldworkers midmorning, carrying Mikael snug in the sling against her.
She was grateful for the baby’s distraction for both of them. The doctor kept his eyes on Mikael’s face as he took the water dipper from her.
“He’s grown.” He drank, then took his hat off to wipe his forehead with his sleeve.
Seeing him so close, shirtsleeves rolled up and dark hair curling with sweat, sent Forsythia’s heart into her throat. She searched his face, hoping for some sign of forgiveness, but he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Doctor.” She gripped the water bucket handle and adjusted Mikael’s weight in the sling with her other hand.
“Yes?” He did glance at her then.
“How—how have you been?” Her courage failing, the words stuttered out.
His gaze softened. “I’m well. We have the office and our rooms pretty well set up, and I was able to obtain a horse and buggy yesterday.”
“Lark mentioned that.” Something released in Forsythia’s chest. At least they were talking.
“And you?”
The look in his brown eyes caught her in the throat. He did still care—surely he did. “Well also. Still not full strength, but I’m fine to work in the garden.” She jiggled Mikael with a hand under his bottom. “And tend to these little ones.”
“Which you do nicely.” He touched Mikael’s tiny fist.
“Doctor . . .” she started.
“I’d best get back to
