The word caught at her heart. Why did it trouble her? She could think of no reason and dismissed the thought. It wasn’t like she longed for something more. Medical care was what she offered. It was the focus of her life.
She’d once thought things might be different. As an eager seventeen-year-old, she’d loved the attention given to her by Edward Sabin over a six-month period. Her eyes full of starry dreams, she’d told him of her plan to become a doctor. He’d said she would have to choose between him and her dreams because he didn’t intend to share her with every Tom, Dick and Harry, or even every Mary, Alice and Harriet.
She’d said it wasn’t that easy and told him of her promise to Grammie. Grammie, who had raised her since her birth parents died when Kate was four until her own death six years later, said she had the gift of healing and made her promise not to waste the gift. Besides, she liked taking care of people.
Edward had stopped calling, but he’d made her acknowledge the impossibility of trying to be both a doctor and a wife and mother. Her own childhood after the Bakers had adopted her provided further proof. How many times had her sleep been interrupted as she was taken next door so her parents could attend some medical need? How often had she missed a social event for the same reason? But in exchange, she’d learned much about caring for others.
Kate went to the kitchen. Grandfather sat outside on the veranda, rocking in the sun and watching the activities in the yard. She glimpsed one of the cowhands riding by the garden.
It was all so ordinary and peaceful. Unlike her own home, where every ordinary moment ended with a call for the doctor’s services, where there was often a flurry of activity as they faced a medical crisis. It was just her father and her now. Mother had died eight years ago when Kate was fourteen.
Kate was a willing, eager participant in dealing with the frequent illnesses, accidents and childbirths, but as she waited for the water to boil, she leaned on the windowsill, taking in the calm scene.
The kettle steamed and the moment passed. She prepared Ellie’s feeding and returned to the sitting room and drew to a halt at the sight before her. Conner leaned back on the couch, his mouth open as he snored softly. The poor man must have been up most of the night. Ellie slept peacefully on his chest. A beautiful picture of fatherly love and care.
It triggered an ache hidden deep within her heart. One she must deny.
This man had a daughter and thus belonged to another woman. Not that it mattered to her. She had plans that would take her away from here. But for today, she would enjoy the feeling of warmth that being with the Marshall family gave. She would enjoy caring for a baby who needed her.
Surely it was possible to do so without struggling with secret longings.
Wasn’t it?
Conner snorted at the sound of someone clearing a throat, opened his eyes and looked up at Kate.
“I think I fell asleep.” He bent his head to check on Ellie. She slept. Her cheekbones pushed against her skin. Such a frail baby. His resolve tightened his chest. She needed him. He would do everything possible for her.
“It’s time to feed her again.” Kate leaned over him and gently shook Ellie to waken her. The baby’s eyelids came up slowly. Her pupils remained unfocused. She stared past Kate as if unaware of her.
He shifted the baby so Kate could feed her. But Ellie’s mouth hung slack and the liquid ran down her neck.
Kate’s face filled with purpose. “Did anything you tried last night get her attention?”
“She seemed to like to hear me sing.” Heat swept over his chest at how foolish he felt admitting it.
“Well, then, I suggest you sing to her.”
“No one but Ellie listened last night.” He could barely squeak the words out as embarrassment clogged his throat.
She chuckled. “I’ll assume she is a good judge of your singing ability. Now sing.”
“Can’t. My throat’s too dry.”
“I can fix that.” She hurried to the kitchen and returned with a glass of cold water. “Drink.”
Seemed she wasn’t prepared to accept any excuses from him. “You’re bossy. Did you know that?” It was his turn to chuckle as pink blossomed in her cheeks.
She gave a little toss of her head. “I’m simply speaking with authority. You did ask me to stay and help. I assumed you wanted my medical assistance.”
No mistaking the challenge in her voice.
“Your medical assistance, yes, of course.” He humbled his voice and did his best to look contrite.
“You sing to her and I’ll try to get more sugar water into her.”
He cleared his throat. “Sleep, my love, and peace attend thee. All through the night; Guardian angels God will lend thee, All through the night.” The first few notes caught in his throat and then he focused his eyes on Ellie at the words of the familiar lullaby.
Ellie blinked and brought her gaze to him.
“Excellent,” Kate whispered and leaned over Conner’s arm to ease the syringe between Ellie’s lips. The baby swallowed three times and then her eyes closed.
“Sleep is good, too,” Kate murmured, leaning back. “I think she likes your voice.”
He couldn’t stop himself from meeting Kate’s eyes. Warmth filled them and he allowed himself a little glow of victory. “Thelma hated my singing.” He hadn’t meant to say that. Certainly not aloud.
Kate’s eyes cooled considerably. “You’re referring to Ellie’s mother?”
“That’s right.” No need to say more.
“Do you mind me asking where she is?”
“’Fraid I can’t answer that.”
She waited.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in over a year.”
“I see.”
Only, it was obvious she didn’t. But he wasn’t going to explain. Not until he figured out what Thelma was up to.
Kate pushed to her feet.
The side where she’d been sitting next to him on the couch grew instantly cold.
“How long before we wake her to feed her again?”
“Fifteen minutes. You hold her and rest. I don’t suppose you got much sleep last night.”
There she was, being bossy and authoritative again. Not that he truly minded. It was nice to know someone cared how tired he was and also knew how to deal with Ellie.
The fifteen minutes passed quickly and Kate wakened the baby.
“She’s weaker.” His voice cracked. “Wasn’t she supposed to be getting better by now?”
“It’s a fine balance between getting fluid into her and not overtaxing her strength.” She tried to get the baby to swallow, but her head lolled and her eyes had a distant unfocused look to them.
“Sing to her again,” Kate said. “It makes her more responsive.”
“I find it hard to believe you don’t beg me not to, but if it helps Ellie, I’ll do it.” He again sang the words of the lullaby.
The baby turned her eyes toward Conner. Kate leaned close to feed her some sugar water. Ellie swallowed without urging.
“My grandmother used to sing that to me,” Kate said.
Conner stopped. “I remember my ma singing it to Annie and then