Coming Home for Christmas by Carla Kelly Page B

mystery.
    When she had finished, Ralph opened his eyes and smiled at her, which only brought more tears to her eyes.
    â€œYou’re a pretty one,” the patient said to her, then looked at Thomas, the anguish in his eyes unmistakable. “Pretty or not, too bad I didn’t reach this point a monthago, eh? You could have sailed with the Almost Splendid and still been free to marry your sweetheart.” He closed his eyes again, then fell into exhausted clumber.
    Maybe out of pride, Thomas had never said anything to the other navy men about his father’s letter, which broke the news of his fiancée’s marriage to his older brother.
    â€œWhat did Señor Gooding say?” Laura asked.
    Thomas translated automatically, not thinking until the words were out of his mouth. Lord, I am a chowderhead, he thought in dismay, as Laura gasped.
    â€œOh, no, wait,” he said, as she got to her feet, looking everywhere but at him. “I could never have left my patients. Laura, wait! My fiancée married my older brother years ago. There’s no one back home for me! Oh, this is a jumble.”
    He was speaking to an empty space. She was out of the door, pouring the contents of the bloody basin into the dirt of the courtyard. She stood there a moment, wavering. Heartsick, Thomas went to the door and watched her, knowing how badly she wanted to run and also aware of how frightened she was now of her own people, who had rejected her along with her father.
    When he just stood there, Laura looked at him, tears on her cheeks. She swallowed. “There is no one back home for me, either. Or here.”
    With a small curtsy, avoiding his eyes again, Laura went into their bedchamber and closed the door quietly behind her.
    Â 
    It was a long afternoon spent, repentant, in the ward. Juan woke up hungry and Thomas fed him, happy for any distraction. He cleaned the drain and replaced it,then sat beside the sleeping carpenter, flogging himself for his own stupidity. The door to his bedroom—oh, God, their bedroom now—remained closed.
    His misery must have showed. When Ralph woke up he raised an enquiring eyebrow and Thomas told him what had happened. “I have just proved to myself that I am the biggest fool in the Western Hemisphere, at least,” he concluded. He threw up his hands. “Ralph, I barely understand women—I mean, how often do we even see them?—and certainly don’t understand wives.” He moved closer to the bed. “I’m embarrassed that I don’t even know this about you—are you married?”
    â€œI am, indeed,” the carpenter said. His voice was weak. “She’s a bonny lass from Portsmouth and we have two sons.”
    Thomas leaned forward in the canvas chair, his eyes on his patient. “Well, Lord smite me when I whine,” he said. He took Ralph’s hand, distressed how light it was, how frail the man. “Make sure I have their direction in Portsmouth. I’ll deliver a message when…”
    â€œâ€¦when you eventually get home,” his patient concluded. “I’d like that.” He regarded Thomas and Thomas noticed the shrewd light returning to his tired eyes. “Want advice? Apologize for being an idiot. Then do something nice.” His voice turned wistful. “Buy her one of those pretty veils the ladies here wear.” His eyes were closing. “You’re married now. Watch your mouth and you’ll be a happy man.”
    Thomas chuckled. “I suppose humble pie in Alta California tastes the same as humble pie in Dumfries.”
    In fact, I’m certain of it, he told himself, as the carpenter returned to sleep, worn out with conversation. “Carpenter Gooding, believe me when I say I wouldnever abandon you.” He smiled at the sleeping man. “What would Hippocrates think?”
    Trusting both of his patients to slumber for a while, Thomas stood up, took a deep breath and