Ginny Aiken Read Online Free Page B

acquaintance.”
    All eyes locked on Mr. Wagner, who, head bowed, stood still as a statue, pale as marble. Letty couldn’t even hear the sound of breathing. She wondered what social sin she had committed.
    Finally, he lifted his head, his look so bleak it pierced to the marrow of her bones.
    “My wife is dead, Dr. Morgan.”

2
    When the echo of the slammed door faded into silence, Letty took a shuddering breath and tried to dispel her dismay. She could scarcely believe what had happened.
    After she’d ripped open his wound, Eric had obviously had no thought but to flee and tend to his pain. Unfortunately, she still had to deal with the women and the ache she felt at her uncalculated cruelty.
    Then she realized that in the space of one pain-filled moment he had become Eric to her.
    “Come along, sweetheart,” said Mrs. Stone, laying an arm around Letty’s shoulders. “Don’t fret over Eric. You had no way of knowing, and as much as he has helped, why, it was only natural to expect his wife to welcome you to town.”
    “But—”
    “No,” Mrs. Stone said. “Listen to me. I know him well—have known him since our families came out West a long time ago. He holds on to trouble much longer than he should. He still blames himself for Martina’s death. Foolishly, of course, but no one has been able to talk sense to him.”
    “What happened?”
    “Let’s take this heavy thing off,” Mrs. Stone suggested with atug on Letty’s ulster. “It was tragic. They had so looked forward to the birth, but from the start, Martina had trouble. The child was large, like Eric, and breech. She labored for two days, refusing to see a doctor—a man. She wanted a midwife.”
    Letty gasped. Just like Mrs. Forrest. Only this time, the woman had denied herself the benefit of a physician. No wonder Eric wanted a woman doctor for the town.
    “How long ago did it happen?”
    Silence.
    Letty persisted. “Was it recent?”
    “Two years ago.”
    Strange. Two years seemed long enough for him to come to grips with the deaths. Since his wife had died in childbirth, Letty saw no reason for him to blame himself. But, as she well knew, everyone grieved in different, private ways. Perhaps Eric was the sort who loved so fiercely that pain pierced him deeper than it did others.
    “I still feel awful,” she said. “I have a tendency to blurt out whatever comes to mind before thinking it through.” She managed a weak smile. “I’m awful at keeping secrets, too.”
    Randy caught Letty’s attention with a wink. “You’re probably an abysmal liar as well. Hartville’s fortunate to have you.”
    Letty smiled her thanks, glad for the help in easing the awkwardness. If everything else went as well as these women’s reception, then life in Hartville would indeed be a dream come true.
    Randy waited for Letty to follow the others into the kitchen. “I didn’t want them to overhear, Dr. Morgan. I think I’m expecting, and I’d be proud to be your patient.”
    Letty experienced a pang of envy and another of joy. “Oh, Randy, that’s wonderful. How do you feel? Any nausea in the morning? What about dizziness? No strange bleeding, I hope.”
    “I feel absurdly well. Sleepy all the time, but I have none of the complaints my friends warned me about.” She laughed. “In fact, Dr. Morgan, I scarcely feel pregnant.”
    Letty reached for Randy’s hand. “There’s one thing you must do if you’re going to be my patient. I’m hoping we can become friends as well, and I refuse to feel I must scrub my hands before we talk. Please call me Letty.”
    Randy smiled, and the two new friends joined the others.
    The women insisted on guiding Letty through the minuscule house, pointing out the touches they’d added. Mrs. Richards had donated the worn but comfortable settees arranged against two parlor walls. Mrs. Crowley had provided the six oak chairs lining the third wall. The brown braided rug had once graced the parsonage.
    The kindness of these