Beyond This Moment (40 page)

The slight pooch in her belly was now a definite bulge, and it was firm. She pushed lightly against it, both in awe of the miracle growing inside her body and in complete dread of telling others about it. James first, then the town council, and finally everyone else. Then to pick up the pieces, whatever that would mean.

Classes had gone well over the past month, and parents routinely stopped her in town and after church on Sundays, thanking her for the difference they saw in their children. She hoped the men on the town council-Mayor Davenport, specifically-would take that into account when it came time to decide what to do with her future, which would be soon.

"Thou hast covered me in my mother's womb;' she whispered, recalling a psalm she'd read recently. God already knew this child, intimately. But did He love this child, conceived in sin, as much as He would have had it not been? And was it any coincidence in recent days that her fingers had swollen to the point where her wedding ring no longer fit?

Her ankles were swollen too, especially after the dance lessons with Charlie Daggett. Charlie had to be excited about tonight. She was excited for him. And she couldn't wait to meet Lori Beth. She only hoped the woman was worthy of his admiration.

The expected knock came, and she opened the door. "Good evening, Dr. Brookston. Please come in:"

He stepped inside, medical bag in hand, his usual dapper self. Most doctors she'd known back east were married. Especially ones as handsome as Rand Brookston. How had he managed to avoid that union for so long?

"You look lovely tonight, Dr. Whitcomb. Are you ready to witness Timber Ridge in all its finery?"

She laughed. "I believe so. Lyda Mullins told me the whole town would be in attendance:' She nodded toward his bag. "Expecting some mishaps this evening?"

He gave it a glance. "No, it's become a habit. The few times I haven't brought it with me places, something's happened, and I'd wished I had."

With his assistance, she slipped into her coat. "Thank you for that, kind sir. And for the offer of a ride this evening:" She'd half thought that James might ask to accompany her. But even if he had, she would've refused. Being seen at an official town gathering was not part of keeping a distance, nor was it proper with her still being in "mourning." But at least she would see him there. Surely he had received her letter by now.

She reached for the entree she'd prepared earlier that day. "Shall we go?"

"After you tell me what's in that pot. It smells delicious:"

"It's chicken and dumplings. One of the few things I know how to cook."

He sniffed. "I'll be sure and have a bowl:"

"If you do, you'll probably be glad you brought that bag along."

Laughing, he closed the door behind them and helped her into his buckboard.

Twilight lingered over the valley. The days were growing shorter, and this being the last of September, they would only grow more so. The air was crisp and cold, and the smell reminded her of rain, yet not the slightest quiver of a breeze stirred. Conversation came easily as they rode into town, an outcome of having spent quite a bit of time together.

She stopped by his office periodically to weigh herself on his scales and to ask whatever questions had come to mind since the time before. His knowing about the baby had brought an unexpected comfort. She didn't feel quite so alone in that respect anymore. And not once had he hinted at her needing to tell the town council about the child. Though he had to be thinking about it, as was she.

She waited for the right moment to broach the subject with him.

"So, I told the gentleman"-Dr. Brookston laughed, guiding the buckboard through town to church, passing droves of people already on their way-"that I'd never operated on a pig before, but that if he wanted me to, I would. And he did. That pig was like a pet to him. Old Cornwell used to lead it around on a leash." He shook his head. "I did my best to repair that pig's back leg."

"And was the surgery successful?"

"Let's just say that when I left Tennessee, that pig could outrun any fox:"

Molly laughed, enjoying his humor-and sensing her opportunity. "Dr. Brookston..." She smiled and waved at a student on the boardwalk who called her name. "I wanted to let you know that I've decided to tell the town council about my ... condition at their next scheduled meeting, two weeks from now."

He looked over at her. "Would you like for me to come with you?"

What a kind man. "No ... thank you. This is something I need to do on my own"

"Do you have any sense of how they'll react?"

"I have every reason to believe it will not go well. Especially with Mayor Davenport"

He nodded. "David Davenport's not the most compassionate or understanding of men:"

"Neither are terms I would use to describe him, no:"

"Do you believe they'll let you keep your position as schoolteacher?"

She sighed. "I've done everything I know to do to make this school the best it can be, and I hope they'll allow me to continue teaching until the baby's born. But, as we both know, I've intentionally misled them:" In more ways than even you know. "So it's certainly within their right to grant me a swift and immediate dismissal" And if that was their decision, she didn't know what she would do.

Dr. Brookston brought the buckboard to a stop beside a row of wagons parked beside the church. "For what it's worth, Dr. Whitcomb-and I realize I'm in the minority on this-I believe a woman is capable of making a decision like that-whether or not to work-for herself. Especially a woman as bright and articulate as you."

He set the brake and came around to help her down.

"Thank you, Dr. Brookston, for your encouragement and your confidence."

He bowed low and formal, like a true Southern gentleman. "What else are friends for, Dr. Whitcomb, if not to believe in one another? And to operate on pet pigs?"

"Here, here," she said, laughing, acting as though she were raising a toast, which made her think of James again, and those silly sugar sticks.

Carrying her chicken and dumplings and thankful for the warmth from the pot, she fell into step beside the doctor and followed the crowd. When they rounded the corner of the church, her breath caught at the unexpected beauty of the setting.

Lanterns strung high on wooden poles dotted the field and were draped around a makeshift dance floor, illuminating the space with a warm shimmer of golden light. Streamers of red, white, and blue were wound around and hung from everything imaginable-naked tree limbs and boughs of evergreens, tables laden with food and drink, even the picket fence that ran along the side of the churchyard. And the people! Lyda Mullins had been right. Everyone was in town for the celebration and dressed in their finest, from what little Molly could see past their coats and scarves.

Over the thrum of conversation, music rose and swelled, reminding her of home. Guitars and banjos and a fiddle! Not a violin, but a fiddle.

"Welcome, Dr. Brookston." LuEllen Spivey approached them, all smiles. "Mrs. Whitcomb, how nice to see you again too. Here, let me take that for you:" She took the pot of chicken and dumplings. "I'll put this with the other dishes:" She looked Molly up and down. "Don't you look nice this evening? Hardly any trace of having been so sick. But I can tell by those dark circles beneath your eyes that you're not completely back to health yet:"

Molly touched her cheek, not having been aware, and somewhat at a loss for how to respond. "I ... I actually feel quite well this evening, Mrs.-"

"As Dr. Whitcomb's physician, Mrs. Spivey, I can assure you she's fully healed. And"-he touched Molly's elbow-"I think she looks radiant."

"Thank you, Doctor," Molly said softly, not missing the pointed look Mrs. Spivey gave him-and her-as Dr. Brookston steered her on through the crowd. She searched her memory for how she might have offended the woman. But could think of nothing. She'd even made a point of assigning Amanda extra responsibilities in class, fully aware that the girl reported everything to her mother.

"Pay no mind to her comment, Dr. Whitcomb;' Dr. Brookston whispered. " `0, beware of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on'"

Molly recognized the quote from Shakespeare but wasn't certain about Dr. Brookston's meaning. Mrs. Spivey? Jealous of her?

He smiled. "Let's leave it at this: You are a lovely woman who has accomplished much in her life. And you exude a confidence that I dare say some could find a little threatening:"

"Would you care for some cider, Miss Molly?"

Mulling over Dr. Brookston's comment, she turned, already knowing who it was. "Why, thank you, Mr. Dagg-" She stared, tongue-tied, startled at the transformation. Gone were Charlie's unkempt beard and hair and crumpled clothes. The man before her was clean-shaven and shorn and wore a suit. Granted, a suit that looked a size too small. But he wore it with distinction. Yet the most startling difference ... was his eyes. They were clearer and brighter than she could remember.

"Charlie;' she whispered, accepting the cup of cider. "You look positively handsome."

Brookston shook Charlie's hand. "I'll give that opinion a hearty amen, Mr. Daggett"

Charlie smiled big. "That's awful kind of you both" He looked around, rubbing his palms on his coat jacket. "Doc, do you know Miss Lori Beth?"

Dr. Brookston hesitated. "Ah ... yes, I do"

"Have you seen her here yet?"

"No, no. I haven't. I'm sorry."

Charlie didn't seem to notice the subtle change in Brookston's tone, but Molly did. And her thoughts went in several different directions at once. But all collided at the same juncture-she hoped Lori Beth wasn't the type of woman who would hurt Charlie Daggett. Either unknowingly or on purpose. "When you find her, Charlie, please bring her over and make an introduction:" Molly winked and sipped the hot cider, relishing its warmth. "I want to meet this special woman:'

Charlie winked back and melded into the crowd.

She was turning to ask the doctor if there was reason to be concerned with this Lori Beth when she spotted Rachel and the boys arriving. Alone.

An older gentleman she'd seen in town before struck up a conversation with her and Dr. Brookston, but when he began describing his physical ailments in greater detail than she wanted-or needed-to hear, Molly politely excused herself and milled through the gathering, talking with students and their parents, and keeping an eye out for James.

Several loud whistles drew the crowd's attention, and she spotted Mayor Davenport making his way up onto the back of a wagon. A round of applause rose.

"Kind citizens of Timber Ridge," he began as the welcome died down. "We're gathered here tonight, on this memorable occasion, to celebrate the proud day that our territory became the state of Colorado! We all-"

Thunderous applause drowned out his next words, but Davenport didn't appear to mind. He raised his fist in victory, then shook it in the air like some prizefighter back east. Politely clapping along with everyone else, Molly continued to search the crowd-and spied James. Across the field. He was scanning the crowd too, and looking especially handsome tonight.

His gaze snagged on hers and she smiled. He did too, briefly, and nodded. Then turned back to watch Mayor Davenport.

Molly felt a portion of the air leave her lungs, but she pasted back on her smile and redirected her attention to the mayor, who was speaking again.

A half hour later, Mayor Davenport was still going strong, and Molly's feet-which had already been sore-now throbbed. She sought respite at one of the tables on the side, and found the only empty chair beside Mrs. Spivey and Mrs. Tucker. "May I please join you, ladies?" she whispered.

"Oh yes, please do" Oleta Tucker pulled out a chair for her and leaned close. "LuEllen and I were just talking about how we're going to start in on Frances's and Jean's desserts if our long-winded mayor doesn't finish soon!"

Molly grinned along with them.

"Mrs. Whitcomb;' LuEllen Spivey said softly, leaning closer. "My niece is visiting from Dallas for a few days, and I've told her all about you. She's eager to make your acquaintance. She's a schoolteacher as well, or wants to be. She's quite talented, and single:"

Molly nodded, wondering if she'd imagined that added emphasis. "Wonderful! I look forward to meeting her:"

"Actually;" LuEllen continued, "she submitted an application for the position here in Timber Ridge. When she wasn't chosen, we were disappointed at first, of course. But once we heard about you, and then met you-" She squeezed Molly's arm, a little too hard. "Well, we couldn't be more pleased. Her name is Judith Stafford and she's standing right over there:" She pointed none too discreetly. "Right next to the sheriff."

Already knowing where to look, Molly saw a striking young brunette standing close to James, and she couldn't account for the bitter twist of emotion inside her. "She's lovely, Mrs. Spivey."

"Oh, isn't she? She's my brother's eldest daughter. Not married yet." She nudged Molly. "But I'm working on that."

Molly managed a smile, hearing exactly what LuEllen Spivey was saying. And wasn't saying. Apparently Belle Birch wasn't the only one who had noticed her "friendship" with James.

Applause rose again, louder now than before, and she looked to see Mayor Davenport step off the wagon. The guitarists began plucking while the fiddlers fired up their bows, and couples didn't waste any time taking the dance floor.

Molly searched for James again and saw him, walking with Judith straight toward their table. She'd thought he'd looked handsome from across the field, but seeing him close up-in a suit jacket, pressed trousers, a freshly starched white shirt and tie-she found herself attracted to him in a way she hadn't been before. But she knew her response was aided by the beautiful woman-no, the beautiful unmarried womanbeside him.

James looked at her and smiled, but something was different about it.

LuEllen Spivey stood. "Judith, I'd like to present Mrs. Molly Whitcomb. Mrs. Whitcomb, this is my niece, Miss Judith Stafford:"

Molly rose and gave a slight curtsey. "It's an honor to meet you, Miss Stafford. Welcome to Timber Ridge."