The Doctor's Undoing

She considered the suggestion with a hesitant grimace. “Grimshaw and I will discuss the idea and let you know what we decide.”

Daniel did indeed feel as if Grimshaw and Smiley outnumbered and overrode him some days. The two of them had been mastering the students longer than he’d been director. Should they ever come to a disagreement, Daniel could never imagine how he would reject either of their suggestions. By God’s grace, it had never yet occurred.

There was one subject that might end up testing that theory, however. “Mrs. Smiley?”

“Yes, Dr. Parker?”

“Nurse Landway has asked me for permission to arrange for the girls to receive hand-knit socks from a corps of volunteers.” He steepled his hands and chose his words carefully. “I’ve told her I’m in favor of the project so long as each child receives an equal gift. While I don’t much care what color socks the girls wear, I do think the influx of new volunteers could be of use to the Home. I trust you have no objections?”

“Socks? Like Meredith’s little ones that caused such a fuss the other day?” She looked as if she found that a ridiculous idea.

“Yes. Socks. In colors, apparently. I know it seems...unusual...but I can’t see the harm in trying, provided no one child is singled out. Any new donations—even if they are time and talents—would be a very good thing for us. And I believe the girls would enjoy it.”

“Socks?” Mrs. Smiley repeated, clearly trying to wrap her sensible mind around so ludicrous an idea.

“So it seems. I intend to give my approval, unless you have a reason I shouldn’t.”

“As long as they mind their lessons, I can’t say it matters what’s on their feet.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I think it’s silly.”

“I doubt the girls find it so. But I shall keep my eye on things in any case.”

“You’ll need to do that, Dr. Parker. Mark my words.” With that, Mrs. Smiley turned and left the room, muttering something about colors and nonsense and enthusiasm.

Daniel stood and closed his ledgers, glad to now have a task to divert him from midmonth invoices. Who knows? he mused to himself as he headed for the hallway. It might be rather fun to tell Miss Landway she could go ahead with one of her ideas instead of having to constantly rein in her imagination.

Chapter Seven (#ulink_582e2d70-5a8a-5f2f-b072-c1ac377684c9)

Daniel found Miss Landway carrying a load of clean white examination table covers down the hallway toward her office. Her hair, wild as usual, was striving mightily to release itself from the knot she’d wound it in at the back of her neck. Her auburn locks continually struck him as on the verge of escape—which might explain the three different-colored pencils currently sticking out of her bun. Colored pencils. It seems the woman could not even conduct basic correspondence in black and white.

He’d stopped in her office the other day and, finding her gone, allowed himself a moment to take in the scattered collection of sketches and tiny drawings that decorated her papers and notes. He’d also noticed the bright yellow matting with which she’d framed her profession’s oath. Daniel couldn’t quite decide if he found the bits of color she always left in her wake enjoyable or ridiculous. Perhaps they were both.

He caught up to her and took the laundry load from her hands before she could utter a syllable of protest. “Allow me.”

She stopped, sitting back on one hip with—and there was no other way to describe her expression—an annoyed smile. “I’m able to fetch my own linens from the laundry room.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that. Still—” he continued walking toward her office “—what kind of example for gentlemanly behavior would I be setting for the boys if I were to be found walking next to you while you carried such a load?”

Nurse Landway darted ahead of him, reaching the infirmary door before he did and standing in front of it. “There are no gentlemen in training to be found here. So I’ll be fine and dandy.” She reached out her hands for the pile of folded cloths.

“I can at least place them in the cabinet for you.” He reached for the doorknob.

She angled in front of him. “I’ll be fine, really.” With her chin tipped up at him—for he had perhaps half a foot on even her statuesque figure—she looked defiant.

Daniel had the distinct impression she was hiding something. Her eyes darted back and forth and he watched her hand tighten on the office doorknob. He stole a glance over her shoulder to notice faint shapes of color through the thin curtains she had strung over the door’s glass window. Rather a lot of color.

“Miss Landway, allow me to enter.”

Were she a child, he would call her stance squirming. Given that she was a fully grown woman, Daniel didn’t know quite how to describe it. She winced. “You don’t want to do that.”

Ida Lee Landway was most certainly hiding something. “I’m quite sure I do.”

She hesitated again, this time giving a pitiful tug on the table covers, which Daniel was now sure he would not surrender even at gunpoint.

“Kindly open your office door, Miss Landway.” He kept his words polite but his tone firm.

She gave a small whine, ducked her head like a guilty child and pushed the door open.

A riot of color greeted his eyes. Boxes and baskets of yarn in a kaleidoscope of bright hues filled every available surface of the office. It was as if the circus Mrs. Smiley was just bemoaning had arrived and subsequently exploded in the infirmary. His infirmary.

Miss Landway cut in front of him. “I can explain.”

Knowing he had come to deliver his approval for her little project, he found the entire situation amusing. Still, the sight before him only proved Mrs. Smiley’s point: someone needed to mind Miss Landway’s limits. And that someone was him. “I expect you shall.”

She began rearranging the boxes, as if that would somehow render them invisible. “My dear friend Leanne—Mrs. John Gallows, that is—had the most extraordinary luck when she went looking for donated yarn.” She turned to him and laid a hand on her chest in a theatrical gesture. “We had no idea she’d get such enormous and immediate replies when she went asking. It’s a blessing, really.”

“You sought donations?” He looked around to find someplace to deposit the linens, and couldn’t see a single empty surface.

She moved a box to the floor, gesturing for him to put down the stack of cloths, which he did. “Well, not exactly. I was telling Leanne about the whole business with Meredith’s booties and the idea I had. I was asking her if she’d help me. There are twenty-six girls after all, and we’d want each of them to have more than one pair of socks, so—”

“We?” he cut in.

Miss Landway planted a hand on one hip. “You did say I could go ahead if I could guarantee each girl received equal gifts.” Sparks of defiance lit her eyes—she’d become much more invested in this than he’d realized.

Part of him liked that. Another part of him felt as if he was watching the year’s greatest headache form right in front of his eyes. “I did. And I told you I’d think about approving your recruitment of a core of volunteers to assist.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I see you didn’t find waiting for such approval necessary.”

She spun about the room, her hands flung wide. “Well, my stars, I didn’t think it’d all happen this fast!”

When he didn’t reply, she turned to face him with pleading eyes. It was obvious it would rip her heart out if he told her to send back the yarn. He wasn’t going to do that, of course, but in many ways this was the baby booties all over again. Charity may be the heart of the Parker Home for Orphans, but procedure gave it the bones to endure. He had to make her understand that if she was going to last, and Daniel found he wanted this nurse to last.

He pinched his nose and pushed out a breath. “I’m pleased at your initiative, truly I am.”

She looked as if she were holding her breath. “And?”

“And I am not going to ask you to send all this back, but—”