When the Heart Heals by Ann Shorey

heard about you, miss, but never figured I’d end up with you in my house. No one told me you worked for the new doc. When he said he was waiting for his nurse, I thought he meant—”
    â€œPapa?” One of the little girls tugged at his trouser leg. “Can we see Mama now?”
    â€œGo on in. I’ll be there directly.”
    They scurried through the door. When they were out of sight, he fumbled in his pocket and brought out a small leather purse. “Here’s ten dollars.” He handed two gold coins to Dr. Stewart. “Don’t have to pay extra for the . . . nurse, do I?”
    â€œSame fee. I’ll compensate Miss Saxon.”
    Mr. Haggerty shook the doctor’s hand, tipped a nod atRosemary, then dashed inside. As soon as he left, Dr. Stewart took Rosemary’s arm and helped her into the buggy. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour. I’ll take you straight home.”
    â€œThank you.” She held her hands in front of her face and blew on her fingers to warm them. For the first time in several hours, she thought of her brother. By now, Curt would have gone home. She hoped he’d stop by in the morning so she could explain her absence.
    While the doctor lit the carriage lamp, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, praying none of the local gossips would notice her late arrival.
    The buggy bounced when he climbed inside and settled his weight on the seat. Yellow light from the lamp splashed the road and a half moon bowled shadows across the track. After guiding the horse down the rutted hillside, the doctor relaxed against the back of the seat.
    â€œYou’ve never assisted at a birth before, have you?” He tilted his head toward her when he asked the question. His tone was conversational.
    Rosemary couldn’t see his features well enough to determine whether or not he was upset. “This is the first time. That particular issue didn’t arise while I was at Jefferson Barracks.” Amusement filled her voice.
    He snorted a laugh. “I imagine not. Not your everyday soldier’s complaint.”
    As much as she appreciated his good-humored response, she regretted making light of a serious question. “Please forgive my flippancy. You had a reason for asking. Did I do something wrong?” She held her breath.
    â€œOn the contrary. You followed instructions perfectly. I’m grateful for your assistance.”
    Dr. Stewart seldom handed out compliments. Relieved, she murmured, “Thank you.”

    As they traveled the distance to town, Rosemary peeked at the doctor’s profile from time to time. The moonlight erased the tired lines that so often crouched at the corners of his eyes. For the moment the young physician she remembered rode beside her.
    A scene from a twenty-bed ward at Jefferson Barracks entered her mind. The night had been late, like this one. She’d leaned over one side of a bed holding a towel while Dr. Stewart administered laudanum to a soldier whose coughing threatened to reopen the stitches in his side. The expression on the doctor’s face showed his own agony at the man’s suffering. She’d observed that same expression when he assisted Mrs. Haggerty through the birth of her son.
    â€œThis isn’t the first time we’ve treated a patient late at night,” she said, then covered her mouth. Perhaps he wouldn’t welcome the reminder. Her brother spoke little of his wartime experiences.
    Dr. Stewart didn’t respond until several seconds had passed. “Why do you say that? Of course it is.” He guided the horse right onto King’s Highway.
    â€œI mean at Jefferson—”
    He jerked on the reins. The buggy jolted to a halt in front of the house next to Rosemary’s. “There’s a light in your window. Didn’t you say you live alone?” Alarm spiked through his voice. “Someone’s inside. Wait here.”
    Jolene. She