Christmas With The Colburns (The Uncharted Series Book 4) Read online

  Something downstairs rattled the wall. Connor shifted in the bed and the quilt rustled. Beneath the sound, voices murmured outside. Before she could listen for it again, the bell on the wall rang.

  She jumped out of bed and pinched the wire so the bell would stop ringing before it woke the whole house. This was the last thing she needed right now, but duty swallowed self-pity. She pulled a work dress over her fancy new nightgown.

  Connor tossed the covers off and stood. He reached for his shirt. “I’ll go out to the medical office with you.”

  “No, stay here. Remember, you have your work and I have mine. Besides, if Andrew wakes up, he’ll need you. We can’t expect Bethany to watch him all the time; she’ll move out soon.” She pointed at the bedside table. “Would you light my lamp for me, please?”

  “Here, take mine.”

  She buttoned her dress. “No, I need mine.”

  “What you need is an assistant.” He moved to her table, struck a match, and lit her lamp. As he carried it to her, he raised an eyebrow. “Ever thought about getting a nurse?”

  “A what?”

  “A nurse.”

  She laced her boots in case the person at the door needed her to ride out somewhere to help someone. “For Andrew?”

  “No, in the medical office. One of the students graduating this year, Sophia Ashton, wants to train with you.”

  “Doctor Ashton’s granddaughter?”

  “Yeah. What do you think?”

  “I can’t think about it right now. I have to go.” Lydia grabbed a hairpin from her dresser and reached for the door. “Don’t wait up.”

  “Lydia?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please be careful.”

  Chapter Five

  Lydia nestled Andrew into his crib for his afternoon nap, covering him with his favorite blanket. He promptly kicked it off and stuffed his foot into his mouth, then watched her to see if she would try to cover him again.

  “I’m not falling for it, mister.” She smiled at him and closed the nursery door behind her.

  Exhausted from being awake with a patient all night, she was tempted to flop onto her bed and sleep too, but Isabella needed care. As she descended the stairs, Lydia picked up a bundle of dirty laundry she had left on the landing. It would get washed Monday no matter what. She dumped the laundry in the kitchen by the pantry, loaded a tray with Isabella’s favorite afternoon snack, and took it to her great aunt’s bedroom.

  Isabella’s door stood open and the heavy drapes were tied back, allowing the afternoon sun to light the room. Lydia raised her voice as she entered. “Aunt Isabella, it’s me, Lydia. Would you like something to eat?” She set the tray on the doily-covered nightstand. “I brought you tea and shortbread cookies.”

  “Seventy-eight years I’ve lived in this room, and I’ve always kept the curtains closed in the afternoon.” Her gravelly voice sounded painful. “I don’t like how the sun heats the room when it hits the windows.”

  Lydia peeled back the quilts and touched her blind aunt’s hand. “Your skin is cold. A little extra heat won’t hurt you.”

  “I don’t like sunshine coming in here,” Isabella mumbled. “It’ll shrink the rug.”

  “I need the light.” Lydia reached for a vile of balm and dabbed it on Isabella’s chapped lips. “Would you like some tea?”

  “No, dear.” Isabella pressed her lips together. “I need you to go to my wardrobe and get something.”

  “Of course. What do you need?”

  “It’s not for me, child. It’s for you.” Isabella lifted a crooked finger. “Inside, at the back of the top drawer, beneath the shawl. It’s a family journal that was entrusted to my keeping. I should have given it to you long ago, but I always feared it would only sadden you.”

  Though she didn’t expect to find anything in the drawer, Lydia stepped to the varnished wardrobe and opened its smooth doors. The scent of lavender wafted out as she followed her aunt’s instructions. She drew out the shawl, and at the back of the drawer beneath a sachet of dried lavender was a pocket-sized notebook. Its thick paper cover was crisp, as if the notebook had hardly been touched, let alone written in. She opened the cover and there in her mother’s handwriting it said: Private. If found, please return to Mrs. Hannah Colburn.

  It couldn’t be. Lydia’s stomach tightened. Once desperate for her departed mother, she had asked her father if he had anything her mother had written. He had said her mother never kept a journal.

  She flipped to the first page: I expected my eighteenth Christmas to be a lonesome holiday, missing my family and dreading the future, but one week with the Colburns of Good Springs changed my life forever.

  It didn’t read like a journal at all, but more of a personal narrative. Lydia clapped the notebook shut. “Who wrote this?”

  “Your mother. She was having emotional difficulty after your birth. I suggested she write her account of the happiest time in her life, to help her overcome her sadness. After she wrote about falling in love with your father, she brought the journal to me and said she couldn’t bear the thought of someone reading what she had written. She wanted to burn it. I convinced her to let me hide it.” Isabella blew out a long breath. “And now I’ll hide it with you.”

  Though the journal was small, it felt heavy in Lydia’s hand. “Why me? I’m grateful, I really am, but shouldn’t Father have it?”

  Isabella closed her unseeing eyes and lay back against the pillow. “That is up to you, but since you are facing Christmas with sorrow, I think you should read it first.”

  “Did writing the story help Mother overcome her sadness?”

  Isabella didn’t answer. Her head lolled to the side.

  “Aunt Isabella?” Lydia felt the pulse at her neck. It came in weak intermittent beats. She adjusted the pillows and raised the quilt to Isabella’s emaciated shoulders. “Rest now. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”

  She slipped the little journal into her dress pocket and left Isabella’s room. With her two charges sleeping, Lydia took slow steps through the parlor and into the kitchen. She treasured the quiet of the house, and her only duty at present was to savor the silence. She sat in the wingback chair beside the stone hearth and propped her weary feet on the footstool.

  The clock on the wall behind her clicked heavily, as it did every hour. She didn’t need to look back to know the time. Two o’clock. Connor was at the chapel, studying theology with her father, and Bethany was working at the pottery yard, probably loading her work into the kiln.

  For the moment, no one needed her, and it was a welcome relief. She let her head rest against the back of the chair. As she closed her eyes, a soft knock rattled the back door. She hurried out of the parlor and through the kitchen to answer the door, hoping neither the baby nor Isabella would be disturbed.

  A young woman with chestnut hair swept up in a puffy bun raised a knuckle to tap again on the window of the back door. Lydia quickly pulled it open.

  “So sorry to disturb you, Dr. Bradshaw,” she said, smoothing the ribbing on her dress. “Mr. Bradshaw told me to come to the back door if you didn’t answer the door at the medical cottage.”

  “It’s quite all right.” Lydia gave the young woman a quick scan as she pulled the door closed behind her to limit the sound that bled through the house. “Are you ill?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that,” she smiled. “I’m Sophia Ashton. I’m in Mr. Bradshaw’s class—was in his class. I just finished school yesterday and he told me to come talk to you about possibly training with you.”

  “Oh, yes. He mentioned it.” Lydia shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun and instantly saw the Ashton family resemblance. “You have your grandmother’s eyes.”

  “Thank you. She and Grandfather always spoke well of you.” Sophia glanced at the closed kitchen door, as if awaiting an invitation.

  “My baby is taking his nap at the moment, and my great aunt is not well. She is also resting.” Lydia pointed at the medical
cottage. “Let’s go into my office to talk.”

  “Okay,” Sophia beamed. “That’s one of Mr. Bradshaw’s words. I’d never heard the word until I came to Good Springs, but all the students here say it. I rather like Mr. Bradshaw’s expressions. It must be fascinating for you, being married to an outsider.”

  “At times.” It was less fascinating when young women drooled over her husband, but she had gotten used to that long ago and had decided to consider it flattering.

  The knob squeaked as she opened the door to the medical cottage. She slid her mother’s journal into her desk drawer and motioned to the chair beside her desk. “Have a seat.”

  Sophia cast her gaze about the room. “I adore your cottage. I can’t imagine having a space like this all to myself. It must have been lovely living out here all by yourself.”

  Lydia sat at her desk and glanced at the stairs that led to her old bedroom. “It was nice.”

  “And probably so quiet not having children around.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, not that your baby is loud.” Sophia blushed. “I was thinking of my niece and nephew. They are twins—eighteen months old. They make quite a racket, screaming all day and waking each other up at night. I have to sleep in their room. Not that I mind.”

  “Aren’t you living with your sister and her family in Doctor Ashton’s old house?”

  “That’s right.”

  Lydia visualized the floor plan of her late mentor’s home. “I thought it had three bedrooms.”

  “My sister and her husband keep separate bedrooms. She says that will ensure they don’t have any more twins.”

  Lydia almost laughed. Instead, she raised her palm. “It’s none of my business. Where are your parents?”

  “Still in Woodland. My sister insisted I come to Good Springs to finish school, because everyone spoke highly of Mr. Bradshaw’s teaching. I’m glad I did for that reason, but she really wanted me to come so I would mind her children for her.”

  “So now that you’ve finished school, why not return to Woodland?”

  “I planned to, but…” Sophia touched the stone mortar and pestle Lydia kept on her desk. She traced the edge with her fingertip. “I’ve been reading my grandfather’s journals, and I’ve become intrigued with the gray leaf medicine. It’s my desire to assist you in your research. I want to learn more about the gray leaf and see what else it can do.”

  Lydia grinned. “Perhaps it can cure screaming toddlers.”

  “Perhaps.” Sophia chuckled. “I know a medical apprenticeship takes years of study and training, and I’m not sure that I could be a doctor. All I know is that I want to help people and I want to study the gray leaf.”

  Lydia leaned her forearms against the desk. Some days her work was quiet, but with baby Andrew and having to care for Aunt Isabella, she didn’t have time for the gray leaf research she longed to do. And then there were days when she was called to duty. She lived for those moments of rescue and medical intervention, sometimes saving a life. But often in the hours of patient observation afterward, she wished she had an assistant.

  Sophia had the desire, intelligence, the Ashton lineage, and a healthy sense of humor. Perhaps this could work. “I’m only a few years into my career, so I don’t consider myself ready to take on a medical apprentice. However, since you’re interested in research, if you’re also interested in learning patient care, I’d be willing to train you as an assistant.”

  “Oh, thank you, Dr. Bradshaw! You won’t regret it!”

  Lydia pointed to the stairs that led to the empty bedroom. “The job comes with housing.” When Sophia clasped her hands excitedly, Lydia held up a finger. “But it also requires your being willing to watch my son when my duties demand my attention.”

  Sophia’s pretty smile held steady. “I’d be happy to.”

  “Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to feel like you’re trading one set of babysitting duties for another. It wouldn’t be often that you’d have to mind him—only when I have a patient and Connor isn’t home.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Be sure to discuss it with your sister. She might not be happy about your leaving. I don’t want any ill feelings, as if I’m taking her babysitter. I’m not. That would only be a small part of your duties. Your medical training would come first.”

  Sophia nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll discuss it with her, but I’m sure she’ll agree that it would be good for me to train for a profession.”

  “Great.” Lydia stood from the desk and walked to the bannister. “Would you like to see your new room?”

  Chapter Six

  “…Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Lydia closed her Bible, believing Isabella had fallen asleep. Though the mid-morning light flooded her great-aunt’s bedroom, it felt dark. With the heavy drapes tied back and the sash windows raised, fresh air flowed through the room as a salty-sweet breeze blew in from the ocean. It lifted the edge of a doily that topped the table by Isabella’s rocking chair and knitting basket. She hadn’t sat there to knit in months. Her knitting basket held a half-finished pink and blue blanket that was meant for Levi and Mandy’s firstborn. The baby would come in another month or so, but Isabella would not finish the blanket.

  “More,” Isabella wheezed, her torso propped up by pillows.

  Lydia nodded, even though Isabella wouldn’t see her. She continued with the Twenty-fourth Psalm. “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof.” She glanced away from the page. Isabella’s blind eyes were closed and her sallow face taut, but she was mouthing every word from memory as Lydia read. “…the world, and they that dwell therein.”

  Isabella stopped mouthing the words and Lydia paused her reading. Her great aunt took a deep breath and then went completely still. Lydia watched her chest, waiting for it to move with exhalation.

  She counted the seconds in her head.

  When thirty had passed, she slid her Bible onto Isabella’s nightstand and reached for her aunt’s hand. The instant Lydia touched her, Isabella sat straight up in bed. Her eyes opened wide and she smiled as if seeing a friend in front of her. Her lips twitched as though she were about to speak, but only a long breath hissed from her open mouth.

  Lydia glanced at the wall opposite the bed. There was no one else in the room. They were alone. As she looked back at her aunt, Isabella closed her eyes and slumped onto the pillows.

  Lydia moved swiftly out of professional reflex, as though she could catch this woman she loved and keep her another day—even another hour—but her time in this world had ended.

  Isabella’s body lay inert, her soul at peace in a new body with seeing eyes and dancing feet, but Lydia held on longer and harder than she intended. This was the woman who had filled some of the void after her mother died and the only person she had allowed herself to cry in front of. This was the friend whose support gave her the confidence to become the first female doctor in Good Springs and who encouraged her through every difficulty. This was the person who first told her Connor was a good man when others were suspicious of the outsider.

  She wanted Isabella back for one more minute, one more verse, one more laugh, one more quiet conversation where her aunt would listen to her and reassure her and give her the kind of advice that had made Lydia the down-to-earth woman she was. Just once more. But she was gone.

  “Thank you. I will never forget you.” Lydia kissed Isabella’s forehead and wept.

  * * *

  Lydia held Andrew close and wrapped her woolen shawl around them both as she stepped outside. The unseasonable chill in the air pricked her skin. At least she tried to tell herself it was the cool morning air that was making her skin crawl.

  Dewy grass wet her ankles as she met Connor beside his horse. She didn’t want him to go. “Do you have everything you need?”

  He wiped his hands on his pants and then tousled Andrew’s hair. “Yeah.” He fast
ened a buckle on a saddlebag and looked at her with the half grin and unshakable confidence she had fallen in love with. Her heart skipped a beat as the pull that initially attracted her drew her once again. He was her husband, her lover, the father of her child, and he was riding out to another village when she needed him most.

  Her voice lost its authority as she continued her half-wife, half-doctor orders. “I put a jar of ground gray leaves in your satchel, as well as a jar of ointment and—”

  “I’ll be fine, Doc.”

  “And a roll of bandaging material—”

  He reached for her and drew her and the baby close. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. I will miss you both, but I will be back on Christmas Day.”

  Her chin quivered and she tried to control it. She had held back her tears through Isabella’s burial and the long night that followed, so she could hold them back a few more minutes. She managed a nod.

  His dark eyes peered into hers. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course.” No matter how she tried, there was nothing she could hide from her husband. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She didn’t want his worry any more than he wanted hers. “Connor, I have a baby and a house to take care of, and Sophia is moving into the cottage tomorrow, so I’ll have plenty to keep me occupied. She’s excited to learn, and that gives me something to look forward to.”

  A playful smile broke his solemn expression. “Did you know your nose turns pink when you’re trying not to cry?”

  She straightened her posture. “I said I’m fine.”

  His seriousness returned. “You’re not… but you will be.” He stroked her arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I know you miss Isabella, and losing her will make you miss your mom too. You’re a strong woman.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” He pulled back and locked her gaze with his. “This will be hard, but it’s not going to break you.”