Unexpected Love Read online

  She nodded politely as she strolled past those with whom she was acquainted, keeping a hand on her bonnet so it concealed the birthmark and didn’t fly away on the wind.

  Finally she reached her block, where homes were slightly better than average. But Renna didn’t care about mansions and wealth. She was happy with her common existence . . .

  Wasn’t she?

  She suddenly spied her father climbing down from his buggy.

  “Well, well, it’s about time you fluttered home, my little wren.”

  Renna grinned, knowing he meant to tease her for arriving home as late as he did.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that a man can work from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.”

  Nibbling her lower lip, Renna couldn’t contain her laugh. “You’re so poetic, Da,” she teased right back.

  He tethered his horse to the hitching post. Then he and Renna walked arm in arm through the gate and up the walk to the front porch stairs.

  “You work too hard, my little wren.” They reached the front door. “It isn’t right. You’ll grow old before your time.”

  “Oh, Da, please . . . don’t start on that subject.”

  “I don’t like to see you looking haggard.”

  Renna brought her chin back. “My appearance is so bad?”

  “No, no . . . ”

  Da opened the door and motioned for Renna to enter ahead of him. Stepping into the small front hall, she pulled off her gloves and removed her bonnet.

  “Don’t be insulted. I’m merely trying to protect you.”

  Renna swallowed an exasperated sigh. She and her father—and all her family—discussed her occupation numerous times before. As a dedicated nurse, she worked long hours and sometimes odd shifts at the hospital. And, although she’d admit that her back ached and her limbs felt weary, she couldn’t just quit. What would she do? Society deemed her a spinster, so without a family of her own, she had to bide her time somehow. At least she was needed at the hospital.

  Which reminded Renna of her pirate.

  “Da, are you busy tonight?”

  He looked a bit surprised, as she’d changed the subject rather quickly. “Why do you ask, Ren?”

  “Well, it’s my patient. You know, the one you, Mum, and I have been praying for. Mr. Blackeyes.”

  “Ah, yes. And what about him?”

  “He needs some fellowship, Da.” Renna smoothed the folds of her skirt. “He’s so lonely. I try to keep him company when time permits, but what bothers me is that . . . ” Renna tried not to blush as she confided in her father this way. “Well, from what Mr. Blackeyes has remembered, it’s quite apparent that he’s married. And, well, he’s . . . he’s all too familiar with me, Da. I believe he’s probably been something of a lady’s man, and some of his words and gestures make me terribly uncomfortable.”

  “I see.” A heavy frown settled on Da’s graying-blond brow. “I take it that nursing Mr. Blackeyes was easier when he was unconscious, eh?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Renna let a grin slip.

  “Well, then, let’s see what your mother has planned for me tonight, and if there’s nothing pending, I’ll visit with Mr. Blackeyes for a while.” He cocked a brow and added, “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Now, Da . . . ” Renna shook her head at him. “I’m an adult, not sixteen. You don’t have to protect me.”

  “Your age doesn’t prevent me from being your father, and without a husband—”

  “All right, Da. I appreciate your willingness to visit with Mr. Blackeyes.” Renna stifled a groan. Would she ever live a single day without being reminded of her spinsterhood?

  Well, no matter. The important thing was, pending Mum’s approval, Mr. Blackeyes would have some good company tonight.

  •••

  Hours later Renna paced the parlor. As it happened, Mum had nothing planned for Da tonight, so after supper he climbed into his carriage and went over to the hospital. Now Renna anxiously awaited her father’s return. She hoped that Mr. Blackeyes would somehow remember more of his past. But, most of all, she prayed that he would get a taste of God’s Word and want to take his faith seriously.

  “Renna, what about tomorrow night?”

  Her mother’s soft voice interrupted Renna’s thoughts of Mr. Blackeyes. “Tomorrow night?” She turned her attention to Mum.

  “Dinner.” Mum sat in a nearby armchair with mending in her lap. “Everything’s all planned.”

  “But I work all day.”

  “Could you, perhaps, ask off early?”

  Renna shook her head and Mum sighed. “I must finish my shift or else the hospital will be short-staffed.”

  Mum seemed disappointed.

  “What’s happening that you need me here at home?”

  “Your father invited his associate, Matthew Benchley, to have dinner with us.”

  Renna had heard of Da’s young, unmarried associate before. “Mum, I don’t want to meet Mr. Benchley. I know he is an eligible bachelor, but—”

  “And Mr. Benchley is the right age for you too, Renna,” Mum added. “He’s not too old. It’s hard to find an unmarried man over thirty and under fifty.”

  Renna cringed inwardly. “Why do you and Da insist upon finding me a husband? I’m too old to be a bride. In fact, I don’t think I want to marry.”

  “Oh, now, Renna . . . you don’t mean that. Every woman wants to get married.” Mum tipped her head, and several coppery tresses fell onto her forehead. “Clyde Montgomery was rather nice.”

  Renna replied with a half-smile and a shrug. She supposed Mr. Montgomery had been nice enough, although he’d been fifteen years her senior. But his age hadn’t bothered Renna. Even the man’s ill-mannered fourteen-year-old son hadn’t discouraged Renna completely. It was Mr. Montgomery’s habit of addressing Renna as if he spoke to a very slow child and not a woman with a brain in her head that she found most infuriating. What’s more, Clyde Montgomery had claimed to know the Lord in a personal way; however, Renna didn’t see any evidence of his faith in his life. The latter had been the deciding factor.

  “I understand, though, why you didn’t marry him,” Mum continued. She slipped her needle in and out as she darned socks. “But your father said Mr. Benchley is quite different. He’s not a widower. He has never been married, and Abigail Hoffmann told me that he’s very charming.”

  Already warning bells went off in Renna’s head. Abigail Hoffmann was not a good judge of character, bless her heart anyway.

  “So why do you suppose Mr. Benchley never got married?” Renna ceased her pacing and took a seat on the rose-colored divan.

  Johanna Fields smiled, but her gaze remained on her sewing. “Perhaps he’s waiting to meet you, dear.”

  Renna rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll ask your father to send a message to him. We’ll dine later in the day so you can join us.”

  Renna resigned herself to the fact she wouldn’t easily get out of tomorrow’s dinner arrangement. She would just have to attend and do her best to have a good spirit about it.

  •••

  The tall grandfather’s clock in the parlor chimed ten o’clock as the front door opened. Renna quickly stood and watched as her father entered the house. Mum had already gone to bed, but as exhausted as Renna was, she forced herself to stay awake until Da came home.

  “How did it go with Mr. Blackeyes tonight?”

  “Very well, my dear.” He stepped farther into the parlor. “The nurses allowed me to stay past visiting hours. Of course, they know that you’re my daughter. I suspect they did me a special favor.”

  Renna grinned. “I’ll be sure to thank them tomorrow.”

  “We spoke quietly. I’m sure that helped.”

  Impatience got the better of her. “So what happened?”

  “Well . . . ” Da inhaled deeply, and the chest of his tan waistcoat puffed out. “I began with reading the Bible, starting with the book of Genesis. I figured that would be a good place
. With God’s creation. And, oh, Mr. Blackeyes had the questions!” Da smiled and shrugged out of his dark brown suit jacket. “My, my . . . ”

  Renna smiled. “Anything else?”

  “I got as far as chapter twenty, just after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.”

  “That’s good.”

  “But I didn’t want to give Mr. Blackeyes too much too soon.”

  “Very wise.”

  “So, we talked for a while.”

  “What about?”

  “Things in general.”

  “And?”

  Da gave her a little grin. “And he’s a widower, my little wren.”

  Renna averted her gaze. “A widower?” Why did she suddenly feel so hopeful?

  “Yes. He remembers that his wife died, around Christmastime last year, but he can’t recall her name. He remembers, however, that he has children. Gabriel, Michael, Elizabeth, and Rachel.”

  “He remembered their names,” Renna whispered in awe. “His memory is returning.”

  “Indeed.” Da cleared his throat now. “And I have a vague sense that I’ve met this man somewhere, but I can’t place him.” He shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll come back to me eventually.”

  “You think you might have met him before . . . ” Renna’s voice trailed off. She strode to the cold limestone hearth and toyed with a few knickknacks on the mantel. “And what about his . . . well, you know . . . his—”

  “Getting too familiar with you?”

  Renna blushed but nodded.

  “I spoke to him about the matter, and he has promised to apologize in the morning. I believe him. He does nothing but sing your praises, Renna.”

  “Well, he should be singing praises to God, not me!”

  Da chuckled again. “In due time, daughter. I’m going to visit him again tomorrow afternoon—if your mother doesn’t object, that is.”

  Disappointment flooded her being. “Mr. Benchley is coming to dinner tomorrow.”

  Wendell Fields snapped his stubby fingers. “That’s right. How could I forget?” He smiled.

  An idea formed. Renna arched a brow. “We could cancel it.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Postpone it then?” Renna sent him a pleading look.

  Da seemed to guess what she was up to and wagged his graying head. “You don’t want to meet Matthew Benchley?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll meet him if you want me to, I guess.”

  Da sighed. “Renn, we’ve had this conversation before—about your birthmark. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The reason you don’t want to meet Matthew?”

  “No, I . . . it’s just . . . ” She gestured helplessly. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “I would have thought you’d gotten over that. My dear, one scarcely notices it at all. Now, then . . . ” Da came toward her and put his arm about her shoulders. “You must overcome this fear you have of meeting new people.”

  “I’m not afraid, exactly.”

  “No one notices the birthmark, Renna. Just you.” Da hugged her before moving away slightly. “Let’s remember, vanity is a sin. And it’s vain to be so self-conscious.”

  Renna squared her shoulders. “Da, how can you say I’m vain? Have you ever experienced the look of horror on people’s faces when they first meet you? No, of course you haven’t. But I have!”

  “Renna, it’s not horror on their faces; it’s just surprise. They’re surprised to see the birthmark on your cheek—just at first.” Da lifted one of his bushy brows. “I hope you’re not harboring an unforgiving spirit, Renna, toward those who might have hurt you in the past.”

  She clenched her jaw and turned around without another word. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, affecting both her mind and tongue. She didn’t trust herself to reply. Of course she wasn’t vain or unforgiving. How could Da insinuate such a thing?

  “Good night,” she said in a clipped tone as she headed for the stairs.

  “Good night to you too, little wren.”

  Da’s gentle tone did nothing to sooth her temper, which soured all the more as she thought about dinner tomorrow evening. She traipsed down the dark hallway to her bedroom, loathing the very thought of meeting Da’s associate.

  But she would. She loved her father and knew he wanted only the best for her. With a deep sigh she resigned herself to his matchmaking schemes yet once more.

  FIVE

  So tell me . . . am I forgiven?”

  Renna was gathering the razor, basin of water, and towels after she’d given Mr. Blackeyes his morning shave. She still had two other men waiting for her. Then those who were able would have a bath today and clean shirts and drawers. Today promised to be a busy one.

  “Pirates aren’t well versed in the way of propriety,” Mr. Blackeyes was saying, and Renna forced herself to concentrate. After all, he was trying to apologize. “I realized some things last night, after talking with your father and, well . . . I . . . well . . . I’m trying to be less of a pirate. All right?”

  Renna felt heartened. “Yes, of course you’re forgiven. And I believe you when you say you’re trying. I think it’s commendable.”

  “Commendable for a pirate. Is that what you mean?”

  He smiled, displaying large, even white teeth, and Renna could well imagine him aboard a tall-masted ship, surrounded by his crew, counting the booty.

  “Are you still there, Nurse Fields?”

  “Yes, I’m still here.”

  “You don’t appreciate my humor this morning, is that it?”

  “No, that’s not it at all. I guess I’m just tired.” Balancing the basin on her knees, she massaged her throbbing temples.

  Today the hospital was near to capacity, what with the cholera epidemic. The warm temperatures outside made conditions here on the second floor uncomfortable. Already Renna’s clothes were damp with perspiration—and she had nine more hours of nursing ahead of her.

  And then dinner tonight. The obligation weighed heavily on Renna.

  “I’ll be back shortly to draw your bath,” she promised Mr. Blackeyes as she crossed the room to where young Mr. Adams lay. He had been brought in after a fire. Unconscious for days, he seemed to be recovering nicely now. Complaints about the food always indicated better health.

  “Yer an angel of mercy, is what you are.” Bandages covered the burns on his arms and hands.

  Renna smiled. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “Well, I’m here to say, ya do it a lot better than some of the other nurses on this floor.” Mr. Adams smiled. “Them women are downright mean!”

  “Oh, now, they’re not really mean at all. They’re just busy. In any case, don’t let it spoil your day. And guess what? The orderlies are bringing up the bathtubs. You’ll have a good soaking soon—and have some clean clothes.” Renna wrinkled her nose. “You still smell a bit like smoke.”

  “A good soaking will feel real good, ’specially on my burned foot.”

  “I’ll bet.” Renna smiled as she finished with his shave. Most of the other nurses would never allow time for their patients to have such luxuries as a shave. But Renna thought keeping up one’s appearance was conducive to the healing process. Most of her patients agreed, although she’d have to move quickly if she hoped to get to everyone this morning. As it was, she had to juggle several tasks.

  Hours later two large tubs were brought into the ward and filled with hot water. Patients with cleaner hygiene went first.

  “All right, Mr. Blackeyes, it’s your turn.”

  The orderlies helped him into the tub while Renna stripped his bed.

  “And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to use the soap,” Renna called over the wooden screen.

  “Are you sure it’s safe? It smells strong enough to take my skin off!”

  Renna had to grin as she made up his bed with fresh linens. Judging by the amount of complaints, it seemed her pirate was definitely on the mend.

  •••

  By midafternoon things quie
ted in Renna’s wards. All the other nurses said she was daft for taking on such a monumental project as bathing patients on a day as warm and sticky as today. But Renna had thought her patients would feel better if they were clean and cool and if their beds were changed. And it seemed she was right. There were no complaints being shouted out from her sick wards, as there were from the others.

  A satisfied feeling enveloped her as she walked by, checking on her patients.

  “Nurse Fields?” Mr. Blackeyes hailed her.

  She came to his bedside. “You’re supposed to be napping.”

  “Would you talk to me for a few minutes?”

  Renna thought it over then decided she could spare him a few minutes. She knew he felt disappointed since Dr. Hamilton had come in and changed the bandages on his eyes. Afterward he wound a white strip around Mr. Blackeyes’s head to keep the bandages in place. But the news came hard and fast. No change. Mr. Blackeyes still couldn’t see.

  His head wound, on the other hand, had healed almost completely. Dr. Hamilton said his lungs sounded clear, but because of his memory loss and weakened condition, Mr. Blackeyes would be staying in the hospital for a while.

  After all, he had nowhere else to go.

  “Your father told me your first name is Renna,” he began. He was sitting up in his bed, although the exertion of taking a bath had exhausted him, and it showed on his expression. “Renna,” he said again. “That’s a most unusual name.”

  She smiled, thinking her name sounded differently, somehow, coming from his lips. As though he didn’t speak her name—he caressed it.

  Renna cleared her throat, wondering how she could think such things. Perhaps exhausting herself had made her a bit daft after all. In any case, she forced herself to reply. “My given name is Lorenna. Lorenna Jane, after my father’s grandmother.”

  “Lorenna. It’s beautiful.” A smile formed on Mr. Blackeyes’s full mouth. “Renna is a nickname then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Renna.” Four times now he’d said her name, sending a tiny shiver up her spine. What was it about this man, anyway?

  “And if I roll the R with my tongue,” Mr. Blackeyes continued, “it sounds Spanish, don’t you think? Renna.”