NoRegretsColeNC Page 5

  Willie shook his head.

  “Fine. Good day, Mr. Morse. I’ll check on you later.”

  She closed the door, leaving behind only the faint lingering scent of lavender.

  * * * *

  Hattie went about her usual routines for the rest of the day, checking in on Willie now and then, helping out with chores, and trying to forget the troubled thoughts that wouldn’t go away.

  Shortly before midnight, she made her last check on Willie and found him sleeping, but fitfully. As she stood beside his bed, she wished she could do more to comfort him. She’d tried, but her attempts to help had only created bigger problems.

  She stepped from the room and closed the door behind her. Even as she moved quietly down the dimly-lit hallway, her thoughts remained fixed on Willie.

  He always seemed to leave her feeling confused and unsure of herself. Obviously, he was not happy, yet he spoke about living life without regrets. Sometimes he spoke sharply to her—probably to be expected from a man suffering physical distress—yet other times he seemed glad to see her.

  And what was it he’d told her earlier? He’d said he would miss her if she were gone.

  Hattie’s breath caught. No one had ever said such a thing to her before. Mostly no one ever even noticed her.

  Beneath the harsh exterior, Willie had a kind heart. She must find a way to help him.

  But how?

  If only she knew more about him, perhaps she could find the way. Just as Dr. Abner Kellerman believed in the oft-ridiculed theory of those little invisible creatures he called bacteria causing disease, Hattie Mae Richards had her own theory of suffering. When a body was hurting, it was more than a physical affliction. To heal, a physician had not only to bind up wounds but also to consider the patient’s thoughts and feelings.

  From the start, Hattie had suspected the truth. Willie no longer wanted to live.

  But why?

  With their little bargain now off the table, he had no incentive to do as Dr. Kellerman asked. So long as his mind remained intent upon dying, he would never fully recover from his injuries.

  When she reached the stairway, Hattie noticed the soft glow of lamplight coming from the nearby kitchen. Curious, she poked her head around the corner and peered through the doorway.

  “Mrs. Kellerman, good evening,” she said in a quiet voice, not wanting to startle the woman.

  Charlotte looked up from the plate of cookies set before her. She winced, then smiled. “Good evening, Hattie. You’ve caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.” She laughed. “Please, don’t tell my husband. He’s got the notion in his head that too many sweets are bad for the digestion. He’d probably give me a scolding if he knew I’d been filching macaroons.”

  “I happen to agree with him,” Hattie replied, but she kept a smile on her face. “I suppose we can keep this as our secret.”

  How odd that once again she was being asked to withhold information, only in this instance it seemed almost trivial. It was quite easy to agree. Willie’s request, however, now weighed heavily upon her mind. She’d made a bad bargain with him. Her deception had quickly come out. Hattie pursed her lips.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Charlotte frowned. “You’re welcome to join me,” she said, pushing the plate in the girl’s direction. “I promise I won’t tell Dr. Kellerman.”

  “Thank you, but I’m not particularly hungry.” It occurred to Hattie that she’d hardly eaten a bite all day. She’d been too nervous, too anxious, and far too busy to give food a thought. Even now, she had no appetite. “I would like to talk to you, if you have a moment.”

  Charlotte nodded toward a chair. “I can tell something is bothering you, Hattie. You know, you’re not very good at hiding your feelings.”

  “I never knew I was supposed to hide them.” She shrugged. “I guess people do that a lot, and maybe that’s what’s wrong with the world. People saying one thing and doing another, pretending not to care when all the while their emotions are tearing them apart.” Hattie’s breath came out shaky. “Why can’t people just tell the truth, Mrs. Kellerman? Why can’t folks say what they mean…and do what they say?” she added.

  “What’s brought this on?” Charlotte eyed her with a suddenly wary look.

  “I’m not sure, and that’s the honest truth.” Weariness overcame her. She all but collapsed into the closest chair. Leaning forward, she cradled her head in her hands. “It’s…”

  Willie.

  She almost spoke his name aloud. Such familiarity would be improper, of course. Hattie lifted her chin, looked directly at Charlotte Kellerman, and said what was on her mind.

  “Tell me about Willie Morse.”

  “What about him?” Charlotte stared back.

  “Folks talk about what a rough time he’s had of it in recent months, but from what I’ve seen, it’s his own doing, isn’t it?” When the other woman raised one eyebrow, Hattie hesitated. Had she spoken out of turn? Had she somehow offended? She plunged ahead. “What I mean is that drinking is a choice he’s made—”

  Charlotte reached across the table and took hold of Hattie’s hand.

  “It’s not so easy as that,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “No, I’m sure it’s not, and that’s my point, Mrs. Kellerman.” Hattie pulled her hands away, got to her feet, and paced through the tiny kitchen. “You see, I’m wondering if there isn’t something more that’s driving him to drink, some underlying problem or concern. People don’t ordinarily choose to deliberately destroy their lives, and that’s precisely what he’s doing.”

  “Indeed. You’re quite right, Miss Richards, on all counts, but why should you care?”

  The question hung unanswered for what seemed a very long time. Something in the way Charlotte spoke left Hattie feeling unsettled, uncertain.

  “I’m a nurse,” she finally replied. “Or, at least, I’m becoming one. It’s my job to care about my patients.” She glanced down at her skirts.

  “Perhaps you care too much, Hattie.”

  “How could that be? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  Charlotte rose. “Your job is to care for patients, to tend to their needs. It’s expected that a nurse should be cheerful and kind. Compassionate, too,” she added. “But a nurse must never get emotionally involved. A good caretaker has to have a clear head, an objective point of view. There are lines that must be drawn.”

  The truth of the woman’s words stung bitterly.

  “You’re telling me that I mustn’t allow my emotions to cloud my thinking. You’re right, of course.” Yet her questions had not been answered. Obviously, Charlotte didn’t want her to know. “Thank you for your time,” she said in a quiet voice as the older woman stepped from the room.

  Chapter Four

  Day by day, Willie grew stronger. His injuries were healing nicely, according to Dr. Kellerman. Good news to hear, of course, but the thought of leaving the hospital and going back to the streets weighed heavily on his mind. It was more than just leaving behind the comfort of his bed and pillow, more than giving up the convenience of having meals cooked and served to him each day.

  He didn’t want to leave Hattie. He’d forgiven her, of course, for posting the letter to his mother. In truth, he should never have asked her to do otherwise.

  Each morning he looked forward to seeing her, teasing her, watching her cheeks turn rosy as she bustled about his room, setting things in order and making polite conversation. Sometimes when he closed his eyes to rest, he conjured up images of Miss Hattie Mae Richards and wondered if she might be willing to be his friend.

  He’d never had a true friend before, although he’d come close. For a time, he’d considered Benjamin Brooks a good friend, but the situation was fraught with complications. Willie hated to think back to those awful events that marked the beginning of his downward spiral. He’d learned of his father’s corruption, found out that the man had joined forces with a killer who promised to deliver a fortune in stolen gold. Willie
hadn’t wanted the truth to come out. He’d tried to protect him and ended up shooting another man—Benjamin’s father. Even though his shot had not been fatal, his actions led to the man’s death.

  Of course, his actions had also saved a life, but looking back upon that dire night, reliving the horror, and feeling again all the dreadful emotions that had churned inside of him made it better to push the whole horrific memory far from mind.

  Afterward, he’d become friends with Ben, had stood as his best man at his wedding, but all too soon, the closeness between them had withered away. Ben was busy with work and his new bride, Emily Sue. Willie, on the other hand, had nothing to fall back upon.

  His family had been torn asunder. His father was gone—who knew where the man might be—and his mother wouldn’t put up with Willie’s drunken tirades. He was better off alone, or so he’d told himself.

  Now, he wasn’t so sure. He wanted Hattie to be his friend, although he didn’t know exactly what a genuine, long-lasting friendship entailed. Probably much more than the pretty, gray-eyed girl with the ruffled skirts and rustling petticoats would care to give him.

  Especially after he’d called her out over that little bargain. Yes, he did regret it. Once again, his father had been wrong. No one could live a life without regrets.

  On that particular morning, Hattie seemed more subdued than usual when she came into his room with his breakfast tray. He kept his eyes upon her, studying her closely. When she brought the tray to his bed, he nodded in thanks.

  “How long have you been in Sunset?” he asked, working his way into a sitting position. Making small talk might be a good approach to building a friendship, he hoped.

  “Not very long, actually. About two months. I came here as soon as I heard that Dr. Kellerman was opening a hospital and would be willing to train a young woman as a nurse.” She drew up a chair and took a seat. “Before that, I attended Miss Brundage’s Female Academy in Denver. I roomed with Emily Sue Phillips…well, Emily Sue Brooks, that is, now that’s she married.”

  Her gray eyes searched his face. Willie wondered if she were looking for some sign of disappointment or regret. He’d once fancied Emily, but she hadn’t returned his affection. Of course, that was all in the past. If Emily Sue—or her husband—felt anything for Willie now, it was only pity. That’s all anyone felt for him. That’s all he deserved.

  Plumb pitiful.

  His mind raced back to the day he’d first seen Hattie at the mercantile. The same day he’d tried to put an end to his misery by stepping in front of that oncoming freight wagon. Maybe the Lord had been watching over him. Maybe he’d been saved so that he could know the gentleness and kindness of this dark-haired angel at his bedside.

  “Do you have many friends, Miss Richards?” He looked up from the plate of toast, bacon, and eggs she’d placed before him, then shook his head. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer. Of course you have more friends than you can count, I’m sure.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you’re a kind soul. You see the good in people. You truly care about others.”

  She lowered her gaze. “Maybe that’s not always a good thing.” Before she could say more, footsteps sounded in the hall. Willie and Hattie both turned to see Charlotte Kellerman coming through the doorway. She nodded toward the bed and then directed her attention to the girl in the chair.

  “I’ll take over here now, Hattie. Doctor’s got a few supplies he’s needing. I told him you’d be glad to go over to the mercantile. After that, he’d like you to stop by the Pembertons’ place. Their youngest has been ailing. Doc wants you to find out if he needs to make a call.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Of course.” Hattie rose from the chair. She glanced toward Willie. “Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Morse.”

  And then, she was gone.

  * * * *

  Willie’s throat tightened. He couldn’t swallow another bite of eggs or bacon. Setting the fork down beside his plate, he glared at Charlotte Kellerman. “Why did you do that? Why did you send her away?”

  “You heard every word. Doctor needs to her run errands this morning.” She nodded toward the tray. “Is that all you’re going to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You seemed to be enjoying the meal when I came in.”

  “I was. I was enjoying the company, too.” His mouth twisted into a scowl.

  Charlotte pulled a chair close to the bed. “Listen to me, Willie, all right? Miss Richards is a decent young woman.”

  “I know that.”

  “She’s also very naïve.”

  “I know that, as well.”

  Charlotte pressed her fingers to her graying temples. “I don’t want to see her get hurt. That’s why I came to talk to you this morning…and, yes, that’s why I sent her away,” she finished.

  “You think I’m going to hurt Hattie Mae?” The words shot out of his mouth. Immediately, he bit his lip, but it was too late. The damage was done. He shouldn’t have spoken of her in such familiar fashion. His fingers curled, his hands balling up into tight fists as he cursed his own lack of restraint.

  Mrs. Kellerman’s chin came up. Her brows rose. “Has she given you liberty to call her by her name?”

  Willie shook his head. “No ma’am.”

  “I thought perhaps she had. I’ve been keeping a close eye on her over the last few days, Willie. She does seem to care a lot about you. More than she should.” She lifted her hands, placed the palms together, and closed her eyes, almost as if in prayer. “Hattie hopes to be of service to others. She and Abner have even talked about the possibility of her attending a nursing college and earning a certificate. But unless she learns to control her emotions, I’m afraid she’ll never make a good nurse. She has to figure out how to treat patients without getting emotionally involved.”

  An odd surge of jealousy rippled through Willie at the thought of Hattie Mae sharing her gentle touch, her sweet voice, her warmth and goodness with others. She was his nurse. He wanted her all to himself. Along with the jealousy came an irrational anger, so overwhelming and powerful he lashed out at once.

  “Maybe she ought to give it up. You’re right, you know. She’s too damned sensitive, and if she gets hurt it’s her fault. Just because she thinks the world ought to be a bright, cheerful place, that doesn’t mean it will be. There will always be pricks like me, good-for-nothing drunks, mean sons of bitches.” More filthy epithets came to mind. He spat them out, as well.

  Charlotte’s gaze never wavered. She sat quietly at his bedside, waiting until his outburst ended.

  “If you think you can shock me, you’re wrong. I’ve heard it all before. In fact,” she added with a gentle laugh, “I could give you a lesson or two on foul language, but I don’t think that would benefit either of us.” She rose, bent forward, and stared down at the young man in the bed. “She does care about you, Willie. Sometimes I wonder why she bothers, but then, in my heart, I know the reason. She sees the good in you.” She paused, then nodded. “She sees you not as you are, but as you can be. She sees all you can become. I see it, too. The question is whether or not you can see it.”

  He shook his head. “There is no good in me.”

  “Well, then, you’d best keep a proper distance between you and Miss Richards. She deserves better, and I won’t stand by and watch you hurt her.”

  “I don’t have much say in the matter,” he countered, gesturing toward his surroundings. “I’m confined to this bed, only able to get up and move about for short periods of time. She’s my nurse.”

  “Not any longer.” Charlotte smiled down at him. “I’m taking over.”

  Willie groaned. “How much longer will I have to be here?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  He closed his eyes. Funny, really. Hattie had done her best to bargain with him and convince him to follow the doctor’s orders. Yet her tenderness and concern had not changed his behavior. Now, the very th
ought of waking up each morning to Charlotte Kellerman’s harsh voice and unfriendly manner gave Willie all the incentive he needed. He’d get himself up and out of that damned bed and away from the hospital as quick as a hungry toad snatched up a fly.

  With another grunt, he pushed the wooden breakfast tray away. He didn’t like this sudden change, but he had to admit Charlotte was right. As much as it hurt, he would honor her request and make sure Hattie didn’t get hurt. He would get himself up, out, and away from sweet, innocent Miss Richards.

  * * * *

  Nearly two more weeks passed before he got the news he’d been waiting to hear.

  “Fit as a fiddle, Willie. Your leg’s healed nicely, and you’re free to go.”

  Willie didn’t know why the doctor’s words caused him such consternation. He’d known it was coming. Earlier, Mrs. Kellerman had dropped by his room and had helped him hobble about packing up his few possessions. During his stay, Charlotte had visited the mercantile and picked up a suit of clothes for him along with a few sundry items.

  All the while he’d been flat on his back, staring at the damned ceiling, he’d looked forward to the time when he’d be on his feet again. Now, standing beside the bed with a crutch tucked under one arm and a small sack in his hand, he eyed the door with a mixture of dread and uncertainty.

  And maybe a bit of curiosity.

  Where was Hattie Mae?

  Willie thought back to his conversation with Charlotte Kellerman. Since their talk, he’d hardly seen Hattie, and even on the few occasions when she had tended to him, he’d said little to her. Shrugs, grunts, and an occasional nod of his head were the means by which he’d communicated over the last two weeks. Although Hattie had seemed a bit puzzled by his behavior she hadn’t questioned him or tried to drag him out from behind the wall he built between them.

  All the same, he’d expected her to bid him farewell.