“Oh, Father,” Marcail breathed, not needing to say more. Alex, too, was deeply moved. They continued to share, each about his own work and the people in their lives. When Alex mentioned Dean and Kay Austin, Marcail told her husband she’d completely forgotten about Bible study.
“I stopped to see Dean on my way home,” Alex explained, putting her mind at ease. “I told him they might not see us.”
“Please don’t cancel your plans on my account,” Patrick was swift to say. “If I can’t accompany you, I’ll find something—”
“Of course you can go with us,” Marcail cut in. “The Austins would love it.”
And thus it was settled. The dishes were done in record time, and the three set out for town. Marcail took the cake she’d baked for Alex, and they had a small celebration before the girls went to bed. As it turned out, they did not get to their Bible study.
Because Patrick had been a minister for many years and was a good deal older than the rest of the adults, Alex, Dean, and Kay went into detail about the situation with their present pastor and asked what they should do.
Patrick’s first suggestion was to continue on in prayer, but for Cordelia Duckworth, and not just their pastor. He was convinced that she was the root of the problem and that was where they needed to concentrate their efforts.
Marcail was silent, but she’d believed that for a long time. She had no desire to see Sydney’s grandmother crushed beneath the heels of the community, but someday, someone was going to have to say no to that woman. As always happened when Marcail’s thoughts moved in that direction, she got the uncomfortable feeling that she would be that someone.
Patrick stayed until Friday morning. The Austins graciously opened their home to him, and he stayed both nights in their spare room. His days, on the other hand, were spent with Alex or Marcail. He joined Alex on his rounds, and even stayed in the examination room when Alex saw a few of his younger patients. He took in more of Marcail’s expertise with her class and marveled repeatedly at her ease and ability to teach.
It was not easy to see Patrick go, but both Alex and Marcail were thankful for the brief time they had shared. Alex believed that God had given them these days to assure both himself and his new father-in-law that God’s hand had been on their marriage.
They told Patrick of their plans to visit Santa Rosa when school let out. Patrick assured them that when he stopped off in Santa Rosa to see Katie and Rigg, he’d pass along the news.
Patrick left with a peaceful heart, believing that with Alex by her side, Marcail would come to no harm. What Patrick didn’t know about was the extent of Sydney Duckworth’s infatuation with his teacher, an infatuation that would drive him to do something he would regret for the rest of his life.
forty-two
“You look a bit sleepy this morning,” Alex commented over breakfast as he watched Marcail stare into her cup.
“I guess I am,” Marcail said, covering a yawn. “I’m rather glad it’s Friday, since Sydney’s been weighing on my mind so heavily this week.”
That, Alex thought to himself, is an understatement.
It had been two weeks since Patrick left, and Marcail, after hearing about Sadie’s salvation, threw herself into the business of leading Sydney to the Lord. She found it to be exhausting work, and some days she believed they’d made no progress at all. Every night she fell asleep giving Sydney to God, but oftentimes, as the school day went on, she acted as if her efforts alone, and not those of a sovereign God, would save her young student.
Before Marcail knew it, it was time to leave for school. The puddles in the road had long ago dried up, but Alex enjoyed taking his wife to work, so he ignored her every time she suggested walking. She had walked home on a few occasions, but only when Alex could not get away.
The schoolhouse was quiet as Alex took Marcail’s books to her desk. As always he kissed her, but after their kiss on the beach in Fort Bragg, his kisses were different. No longer did he hold her jaw and kiss the corner of her mouth, hitting more of her cheek than anything else. She now seemed very willing to accept his embrace and tender kiss, full on the mouth.
He didn’t linger this morning as he was always tempted to do, but kissed her twice. His love for her grew daily, and he could never get enough of touching or talking to her. Marcail walked him to the door and smiled with contentment as he rode away.
She was at her desk, writing out a few notes, when she heard movement at the back of the room. It was a bit early for the children to be arriving, but Marcail looked up to see Sydney standing just outside the cloakroom door.
“Why, Sydney,” she said with pleasure, “I didn’t hear you arrive. How are you today?”
“Fine,” the young boy answered, his sullen tone telling Marcail he was anything but. The young school teacher sighed mentally. On the days when Sydney was boisterous and unruly, Marcail knew where she stood. When he was withdrawn and uncommunicative, as he was now, he frightened her.
She knew there was no point questioning him when he behaved like this, so Marcail went back to the paper in front of her, thanking God the week was over and praying the day would be better than she hoped.
The morning progressed fairly smoothly, but Marcail’s prayerful heart was never far from the unpredictable Sydney. The other children seemed to take their cue from him; they were quiet as well.
Marcail dropped into her chair at lunch as though she’d worked two days without a rest. She’d just reached for her lunch tin when Alex entered. It was a pleasant surprise. Marcail felt like she was seeing the first friendly face all day.
“Hi,” Alex spoke as soon as he sat down. He thought she looked tired, which wasn’t like her, and it concerned him. It also made the reason for his visit more difficult.
“Hello,” Marcail smiled at him, unaware of the way her fatigue showed.
“I can’t stay,” he began, “but I wanted to let you know I won’t be by after school. I’ve got to head out to the Castleton place, and I won’t be back until evening.”
“I don’t mind the walk,” Marcail told him honestly, thinking it would give her a chance to clear her head and time to pray.
“All right,” Alex said, still hating the idea. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
Marcail walked him to the door and then went back to her lunch.
The afternoon was a waste of time. The children went from being obediently quiet to continuously talking out of turn, and Marcail let them go nearly 45 minutes early. It was cool but more than comfortable, and she felt that the students who normally had rides could use the exercise.
Marcail straightened the room and worked at her own desk for over an hour before gathering her books and slipping into her coat. Once outside, she closed the door behind her and moved unsuspectingly toward the steps. Her foot never reached the first step. It caught on a string that had been tightly drawn across the top.
Marcail’s books flew through the air. Her hands went out to grasp for the railing and encountered only thin air. In an attempt to right herself, she turned partially with her back to the steps.
Her momentum was too great though, and the change in position didn’t help. She ended up falling very hard, most of her weight going onto one side of her back. Marcail gasped for breath after the initial impact. Pain ran from the back of her head to the back of her right thigh. She lay still for long moments, breathing hard with pain and trying to determine if anything was broken.
Marcail didn’t realize she was shaking all over until she tried to stand. For the first time since she’d moved to Willits, she wished the schoolhouse was more centrally located. After some effort, Marcail found herself on her hands and knees looking up at the steps above her, and to the thin string tied tautly across the top.
The ache inside of her was more painful than any of her bruises. This had been a deliberate and malicious act. Marcail was absolutely crushed. More from lack of will than from pain, Marcail collected her books with an effort and removed the string, sli
pping it into the pocket of her coat.
The walk home was accomplished without real thought to where she was going or how fast. She didn’t touch the stove or start supper when she arrived, but slipped out of her coat and decided to lie down. She removed her shoes and lowered herself gingerly onto the sofa, careful of her bruises as she pulled a blanket over her.
She told herself she was just going to sleep for a few minutes, but even though her back throbbed, her body had other ideas. Sleep overcame her quickly, blissfully wiping away the steps, the string, and the troubled face of one little boy from her mind.
forty-three
Marcail woke to a feeling of pressure on her hand. She focused slowly to find Alex kneeling down by the sofa, holding her hand. Her whole body ached like a bad tooth, but she didn’t say a word.
“I know you like to sleep in on Saturday mornings,” her husband’s voice was soft, “but you were out so hard when I came home last night, I thought I should wake you and let you know I’m leaving for work.”
“It’s Saturday morning?”
“It sure is. You must have stretched out right here after you got home.” Alex’s voice was compassionate, and his fingers stroked down her cheek and then touched the collar of her dress.
Marcail wanted to sit up, but didn’t think she could manage it. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you any supper last night,” she apologized, not really thinking clearly.
“I didn’t wake you to make you feel bad. I’m fine, and I just hope you caught up on some of your rest.” Alex stood then. “I’m off to work. I probably won’t be home for lunch, but I should be done for the day around 2:00. There’s hot coffee on the stove when you get that far.”
Marcail said a soft goodbye that Alex attributed to sleepiness just before he kissed her. He didn’t notice that she lay absolutely still as she watched him leave.
“Is it possible to feel worse today?” Marcail asked herself, as the door closed on her spouse. She had never taken a severe fall before and didn’t know what to expect. Her skin had always bruised easily, but none of the bruises were ever the result of a serious accident.
As though her skin had turned into dried leather in the night, Marcail gingerly moved into a sitting position. She was careful to keep her back away from the sofa back, but the bruised side of her bottom and thigh were telling her to lie back down.
Marcail fought the urge. She pushed herself off the sofa and stood. It took some minutes to make herself move again, but Marcail knew that waiting any longer would not change a thing. Her first step forward told her it was going to be a long day.
Alex was thrilled to see his last patient leave at 1:30. He was tired and ready to go home. He cleaned up the examination area and readied his bag for emergencies. He was ready to leave when the door opened. Alex concealed his disappointment over being kept longer in town and went out to the waiting room. To his surprise he found Sydney Duckworth waiting for him.
“Hello, Sydney,” Alex said carefully, looking past him once or twice to see if his grandmother was going to follow him through the door.
“Hello, Dr. Montgomery. Is Mrs. Montgomery here?”
Not until Sydney asked the question did Alex really look at the boy. His eyes were scared, his features even more pinched than usual.
“Is there something I can help you with, Sydney?” Alex offered kindly, thinking the boy seemed very upset.
“No, no,” Sydney spoke as he backed toward the door. “I just thought maybe Mrs. Montgomery had come with you, and I would say hi.”
“I’m sorry, Sydney,” Alex smiled gently, knowing the boy was half in love with his wife. “I don’t believe she planned to come into town today. Maybe you’ll have a chance to talk with her at church tomorrow.”
The words seemed to put the boy at ease, and Alex stood for a time after he’d left, trying to put his finger on what had been wrong. No answers came, and Alex, always ready to see his wife, put Sydney out of his mind and hurried toward the livery.
Wishing she’d gotten more done, Marcail looked despairingly around the house. The laundry was washed and hung out, but no baking had been done and supper wasn’t even a thought in her mind. The day had passed in a painful fog, and Marcail had fought going back to bed every minute. She stared in surprise when Alex walked in the door, never dreaming it was that late in the day.
“Hello,” he greeted her. “Did I startle you?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “I just didn’t realize the time.” Marcail took a breath and kept talking, believing that she owed Alex an explanation.
“Alex, I’m sorry I didn’t get much done today, but the truth is, I took a fall down the schoolhouse stairs yesterday, and it’s made me kind of stiff and lazy.”
“You fell down the stairs?” Alex’s voice showed his concern, but since Marcail was so fearful of doctors, he told himself to move slowly and not press her. “Are you all right, Marcail?”
“I bruise easily, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Marcail’s voice was as even as ever, and Alex, truly believing that by now she would be comfortable enough to tell him if she were really hurt, took her at her word. He took in her composed features and nodded with satisfaction. He also decided to put her mind at ease about the household chores, so he got out the bowl to mix bread dough.
“I really should be doing that,” Marcail said from behind him.
“Not if you don’t feel well,” Alex said reasonably. “Anyway, I’ve always enjoyed baking. Oh, by the way, Sydney stopped in to say hello. I think he wanted to talk with you about something. I told him he’d probably see you tomorrow at church, and he seemed satisfied with that.”
Alex had his back to Marcail and completely missed the look of misery that crossed his wife’s face. Marcail did help Alex finish the baking, and if her movements were a little slower than normal, he didn’t seem to notice.
Alex fixed supper after he’d done some odd jobs outside. They were just finishing when the bell rang, summoning the doctor’s services in town. Alex, usually very pragmatic about his work, looked a bit let down. Marcail was secretly pleased because he was usually gone for at least two hours, and she’d been hoping for some privacy for her evening bath. She knew it was going to cost her to prepare the tub, but the soak was going to be worth it.
Ignoring the dishes, Marcail shuffled around preparing her bath the moment Kelsey galloped out of the yard. As Marcail had suspected, it took great effort to drag the tub out and fill it, but as she sank into the water, she had her first relief in 24 hours.
Sparing her right side as much as possible, Marcail soaped up and washed her hair. It was impossible to maneuver the rinse bucket with only one hand, and Marcail moaned as she was forced to lift her right arm above her head, taxing her bruised shoulder to the limits.
The job done, she sat back in the tub and tried to catch her breath. She found she was trembling all over again, but having her hair and body clean had been worth it.
It was a tremendous effort to leave the tub and dry off, but again Marcail moved slowly and got through it. She stood, nightgown in hand for some minutes, knowing that to lift it over her head was going to hurt. Holding the garment in front of her and feeling the cold of the room, she knew how warm she would be if she could just make the effort, but still she stood rooted.
Feeling weary in body and spirit, she would have continued to stand still, but the door opened quietly behind her. Marcail, wrapped in her own little world of pain and disillusionment, never heard the door’s movement. As it was, only seconds passed before she heard Alex’s horrified call. Forgetting for the moment the pain in her body, she turned to find him coming toward her, looking every inch the doctor she knew him to be.
forty-four
Marcail backed into the living room away from Alex until his hands on her upper arms brought her to a gentle stop. She was holding the nightgown to the front of her, as though it were a suit of armor.
Alex looked into her terrified eyes, knowing he had to do someth
ing that would probably destroy all the trust she’d come to have in him.
“Marcail,” he spoke softly. “I have to check your back.”
Marcail shook her head and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“I can tell,” he went on in that same gentle voice, “even from across the room, that your bruises are serious. I have to check them.”
“I told you I’ve always bruised easily,” Marcail finally blurted out, sounding as breathless and terrified as she really was.
Alex’s heart broke, but there was no way he was going to ignore the coal-black bruises and scrapes he’d seen on the back of her body.
With gentle insistency, his hands still holding her upper arms, he drew her back toward the kitchen where the lantern burned bright on the table. He turned her carefully toward the light, nearly changing his mind when he felt the violent trembling of her entire body.
Alex did not rush his examination, and had Marcail been capable of thinking clearly, she would have realized that his manner was completely professional. She felt his hand on her shoulder blade, the skin of her bottom, and the back of her thigh. It felt like forever, when in fact only a minute had passed before he was turning her so that her bare back was once again shielded from his eyes.
The light bounced off of the tears standing in her eyes, and Alex turned without leaving the room. He spoke over his shoulder.
“Put on your nightgown, Marcail.” His voice sounded sad, but nothing registered with Marcail beyond her pain and humiliation.
She scrambled into the long, warm gown, and without a word, moved stiffly into the dark living room to sit on the sofa. Following with the lantern, Alex found her sitting sideways, protecting her back he was sure. She didn’t change position to look at him as he placed the lantern on the table behind Marcail’s turned back. He lowered himself to sit next to her.