That Certain Spark (10 page)

“Hello there, Miss Heidi. Who do you have there?”

She looked up, then quickly blurted, “Mama!”

The back door opened at once. “Hello. Heidi, I’ve asked Doc Enoch to come over today.”

“No, Mama. No!” Heidi promptly burst into tears.

Eleven

W
hat’s wrong, sweetie?”

“Nothing’s awrong. Tell him to go away!” Heidi gripped the cat so tightly around its middle, the poor thing started yowling. But when Enoch reached for it, she wheeled around and buried her face in her mother’s skirts. The cat got lost in the yards of fabric. “No, Mama. Please . . .”

Sick to the depths of his soul, Enoch watched as the child rejected him. Her reaction was immediate and complete. He’d seen animals do the same thing, and when they did, they never warmed up to the handler or owner. It was instinctual—as if they sensed whether theirs would be a good match or not. Overwhelmingly warm as his feelings were toward Heidi, he’d expected it to be a mutual thing; clearly, it wasn’t. The woman he longed for stood two feet from him, but she might as well be a continent away. He refused to come between a mother and her child.

Gravy drippings streaked down a dishcloth Mercy held. She tossed it aside and knelt down. “Heidi, what’s the matter?”

“Him.”

If I had any doubt at all, that put it to rest.

“Doc Enoch?”

Clutching the poor cat until the thing was in imminent risk of internal injury, Heidi wailed, “I don’t want Tasha to be sick. Sick means dead. I don’t want Tasha to be dead and gone!”

Relief flooded him. Plopping down on the porch, Enoch let out a sigh just for show. “Tasha can’t possibly be sick. Nothing making that much sound can be sick!”

“Really?”

“Really.” He patted his legs. “Come sit here and show me what Tasha is wearing.”

Eager to show off her cat, Heidi scrambled over. In the process, Tasha’s bonnet fell over one ear and the cape swooped forward to hang like a bib.

“So her name is Tasha. Hmm. And a fine specimen she is. Healthy. Fat and sassy.” Slowly, carefully, he eased the poor kitten free. “Let’s take a look—why, Tasha has a little gray on her ears and paws.”

“Nuh-unh. The stuff on her paws is cuz she walked in the coal today.”

Mercy cast a look back at the kitchen, and Enoch winked at her. “Go on in. We’ll stay out here and talk about animals. I think Heidi likes them almost as much as I do, don’t you?”

“Yep!” Heidi grinned. “Someday I wanna have a pony. That’s a big animal, and Mama says I shouldn’t pester God for something I don’t need, but I think a horse is a good idea, don’t you?”

“Horses are fine animals.”

Murderous. The look sweet little Mercy shot him was nothing short of murderous.

“But horses are work animals; they’re not pets. A cat like Tasha here, now here’s a perfect pet. She can play with you, and you can hold her.” He compared his hand size to Heidi’s and said he couldn’t hold a horse in two hands—how could she when her hands were so much smaller?

Their silly conversation wended through lunch. The boarders enjoyed chiming in at the huge table where everyone ate together. Mercy’s boardinghouse held a cheerful, comfortable feel, and the boarders felt like a big family. Mercy treated them with respect, but her warm spirit made it seem as if they were her uncles and brothers. They treated her with deference and Heidi with humored affection.
But for all their joviality, these men are assessing me and acting like self-appointed watchdogs.

Someone pounded on the door. “Doc! Doc Enoch!”

Jumping to his feet, Enoch excused himself and opened the door. Mr. Toomel stood there, still in his Sunday best, but muddy and bloody. “Todd Valmer’s stallion spooked. He’s shredded himself on barbed wire.”

A small hand curled around his fingers and squeezed. “Can I come?”

“No!” Mercy gasped from directly behind him.

But that was a victory.
Heidi wants to be with me.
Enoch bent down. “Not this time, but another. I promise.” He straightened up. “I hate to go so quickly. This was the finest Sunday supper I’ve had in ages. Thank you.”

“You’ll have to come back soon.”

“I’d like that.”

Heidi clung to his pant leg. “Promise with all your heart and sugar and spice on top?”

He tugged Heidi’s beribboned plaits. “Sugar . . . and spice.” Looking at Mercy, he wanted to add,
With all my heart.
Yet such a declaration shouldn’t be made in front of a child or when he’d have to run out the door. Instead, he added, “Your mama’s very good with sugar and spice. I’d be a smart man to come to this very place to make my promises so I could top them off here!”

Viewing the men and wagons, the women who wended through the crowds with pots of coffee, and the huge piles of lumber awaiting the start of construction, Enoch felt a surge of excitement. Monday had finally arrived. The lumber was milled and sawn, and most of the mortises and joints had been cut according to the specifications on the blueprint he’d sent in advance—meaning the barn ought to go up fast.

“Karl! Doc Enoch!” Jakob Stauffer helped his wife down and swept his daughter from the wagon, as well, while his hired hand, Phineas, dallied over helping Annie from the wagon. Hope grabbed a big basket and called over it, “Phineas, you’re not the kind of man to kiss without a tell, so bein’ as I’m Annie’s sister-in-law, I’m tellin’ y’all to give her a kiss. If’n you don’t, you won’t get a thing done all day.”

Enoch murmured, “ ‘Kiss without a tell’?”

Slapping him on the back, Karl chuckled. “That’s Hope. She turns around sayings, yet they make sense in their own funny way. Jakob—he loves it about her.” The blacksmith hitched a shoulder. “She won our fondness quickly, and no one ever corrects her.”

Enoch understood the message. “No one ever should. I found her version of the saying charming. Now, as I—”

“Coffee.” Just about to press coffee into his hands, Mercy tore her eyes from him and off to the side. “Heidi—”

At the mere breathless gasp of her daughter’s name, Enoch spun to the side. Something raw and primitive made him surge in that direction.

“Skyler’s with her.” Karl’s hand on his shoulder acted like a battering ram. The impact jolted them both.

Enoch didn’t care what Karl said.
She’s my little girl. I have to see for myself.

“Ja, Skyler’s walking with her.” Pride rang in Karl’s voice. “Little Heidi’s coming to get Emmy-Lou from Hope so they can play together.”

“I don’t know who needs this more.” Enoch wrapped his hands around Mercy’s and lifted the gray graniteware mug—first to her mouth, then to his own. Mercy’s already wide eyes blinked in surprise when he left the empty mug in her keeping.

“I’ll get you more.”

“Thanks.” His raspy voice wasn’t because of the burn of the coffee. He’d immediately adored Heidi, but he hadn’t become conscious of the fierce love he felt already.
I hope she’ll call me Daddy.

Parson Bradle gathered the community together and asked God’s blessing on the day’s endeavor, safety for all, and that the barn would be a place of healing for all of the Lord’s creatures.

“Thank you, Pastor. And thanks to all of you for coming out to help.” Enoch clasped Taylor’s hand in his. These people needed to know where his allegiance rested. A few had already felt him out about it, and he wanted to make the matter clear in case it made a difference before the work began. “It’s been less than a week since we arrived, and my sister and I have seen the earnest and honest citizens of Gooding stand by their word and kneel before their Lord. We count it a joy to serve the almighty Father and to be your neighbors.”

“Plenty’ll be happy to use you, Doc Enoch!”

“And plenty of us’ll be glad of having Dr. Bestman.” Old Mrs. Whitsley poked the man with her cane. “I’m rickety and haven’t a critter to my home, but I sure can beat some manners into a pup like you and tally up another patient for her if you think she won’t have enough business.”

Beloved as she was, the old woman earned plenty of laughter. Taylor managed to smile, as well, but she let go of Enoch’s hand as soon as the man shouted out the pointed comment.

“We haven’t discussed what types of physical activity are permissible—”ignoring Karl’s glower, Taylor forged ahead—“given your stage of invalidism.”

“I’m well.” Karl strode away and decided to prove his point. He extended his hand. “Give me that.”

The buck engaged to one of the Richardson gals didn’t want to relinquish the beetle—a forty-pound wooden mallet. Young men liked swinging it to impress their ladies. Well accustomed to the weight of an ax and the fact that it cut into the surface it struck, those men weren’t equipped to slam something so much heavier and have it meet complete resistance. More than once, a braggart had swung wild and damaged a beam.

“Let him have it,” Mr. Richardson ordered. “He’ll get us off to a quick start.”

Begrudging at best, the man complied. Karl went to the center of the bent—a skeleton of wood made of side-by-side ladderlike braces. This barn would be wide—a three-bracer. Each of the lateral supports on the frame had to be knocked together with the beetle. Some of the men quickly assembled it, and Karl assumed the stance he’d always used. His stitches pulled—enough for him to know that if he could feel the skin tugging, all of the places the doctor had repaired on the inside wouldn’t do well with the work. Unwilling to back down, he adjusted his position and gripped the beetle in both hands. Swing . . . and wham!

Even bracing for the impact didn’t lessen the effect. It felt as though he’d somehow swung and hit his own thigh with the hefty mallet, but Karl absorbed the pain with a grunt. In no way would he let on how much it hurt. Neither did he count how many joints existed on this bent; he walked to the next. Counting would be admitting he wasn’t sure he could last.

“Done with that one,” Daniel Clark said shortly thereafter, carrying a large coil of rope over each shoulder toward the foundation.

Wiping his brow with his sleeve, Karl surveyed the completed bent. “Ja.” His leg burned. More than he’d anticipated.

Dr. Bestman came over with a water bucket. She served the last few men working on the bent. The rest had moved to assemble the next. Last, she approached him. Dipping the ladle, she murmured, “Stop before you permanently damage your leg.”

He grabbed the dipper. The cool water slid down his throat and refreshed him. Renewed him. “I need no one to tell me what I can do.”

“Give me that hammering instrument before I wrest it away and knock some sense into you.”

Karl grinned. The thought of her doing either thing was ludicrous. “You can’t. My head’s too thick.”

“Even Achilles had one weak spot.” She stuck out her hand.

“You’re a doctor. You should know there is a difference between a heel and a head.”

“What I know is that I’m going to have to heal your head after I knock some sense into you.” She waggled her fingers impatiently.

Karl chuckled. Matching wits with her made for a lot of fun.

“I’ve made light of this, but it’s serious. You’ll do yourself harm if you don’t cease this exertion.”

“Hey, Karl!” someone shouted from the second bent.

He raised the beetle over his head. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m healthy as an ox.”

“Stubborn as one,” she shot back as he walked off.

Karl approached the second setup. A cowboy who worked at Checkered Past waggled his brows. “Spirited filly, huh?”

“Sassy-mouthed woman.” Jase Adderly, the new manager of the lumber and feed, spat off to the side. “Got no use for ’em.”

Taking exception to the way both men characterized her, Karl growled, “Stop gossiping like a couple of old biddies. We’ve got work to do.” Anger at them fueled his first blow. Anger at himself got him through several more. The men were right—Dr. Bestman was both spirited and sassy-mouthed, but that didn’t give them call to speak about her disrespectfully. A woman deserved a man’s regard and basic courtesy. The problem was, he didn’t want to support the notion of a woman doctor. Even if she’d done a good job on his leg.

Well, maybe not so good. It burned like anything. Each swing and mighty blow made him grit his teeth against the agony. But he’d boasted that he was fine. Strong as an ox. To change his tune now would be a show of weakness. Karl refused to do that.

“Hey! Look!”

Karl turned to the sound of a commotion as a big team of men raised the first bent into place with pikes. The whole assembly shuddered as the main girder slid into place and the ends slapped against the stays that kept the whole piece from falling over in the other direction. A cheer went up when the piece was vertical.

“Phenomenal.” Awe filled Dr. Bestman’s voice.

Karl twisted about and saw the fascination lighting her features.
Phenomenal,
he thought as he saw the flush in her cheeks and fire in her eyes.

“Yep.” Hope Stauffer walked alongside her. “All’s well that’s in well.”

Karl looked up and tried to catch the doctor’s eye.
Dr. Bestman doesn’t know Hope can’t read, so she mangles old clichés.
The realization shot through his mind, and Karl opened his mouth to say something—anything—so Hope’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt.

“Undeniably, it’s in well,” the doctor said in a breezy tone. “Perfectly, I’d say.”

“It’s gonna be the most grandest barn ever. Hey, y’all! We brung some more nice cool water. Reckon since Piet’s team got two more bents knocked together, you got plenty of time to have a sip before goin’ on to the next.”