The Lady Who Lived Again Page 2

  “This is your property?”

  “My family owns twelve acres. Hunting is restricted on all of it.” Her spine stiffened like a broomstick. Beneath her simple straw bonnet, wisps of dark hair fringed her pretty face. Specks of hazel and gold sparked in her brown eyes, along with an annoying tinge of righteous indignation. “My grandfather makes exceptions in cases of necessity only.” She eyed him from head to toe. “Since there are several eating establishments in town, and you’re clearly not starving, you can pursue your sport elsewhere.”

  “In my defense, Miss Sutter, this hunt was necessary.”

  “Is that so?”

  His business was none of her concern, but the challenge in her skeptical tone got the best of him. “Your elderly neighbor, Mrs. Tremont, is a patient of mine. Her weight has dropped drastically, and her appetite continues to wane.”

  Her smug tone faded. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she muttered, looking genuinely distressed.

  “The woman has a craving for fresh venison. I apologize for trespassing, but I intend to provide it.”

  She lowered her eyes, and Jace couldn’t help enjoying her contrite response.

  “Had you not intervened with my deer, I’d have no reason to dally here. On your property,” he added, just for the hell of it.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you,” she snapped. “Good luck with Mrs. Tremont.” Her hard look softened again, as did the harshness in her voice. “Please send her my regards.”

  With a lift of her chin, she collected her market basket from where it sat beside a log, then hurried away. Jace stared after her, absorbing the view. She held her head high, her stance rigid and aloof. Her frame was small but curvaceous, possessing the perfect measure of female proportions. Ample breasts, narrow waist, pleasing backside.

  Of course, one had to get past the bloodstained dress to appreciate what lay beneath, but as a doctor who’d seduced dozens of nurses whose aprons were soaked with far worse, this posed no problem for Jace. Her slender form moved swiftly as she made her way down the path through the field, but her pace was slowing. He detected a slight limp in her gait, though from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

  “Madeline Sutter,” he mumbled, shaking his head. What kind of woman went about pulling arrows from dying deer?

  Jace had met some odd people during the month since he’d arrived in town, but he’d yet to meet anyone like Miss Sutter. Dragging his gaze from the fading view of her, he squatted before the patch of blood in the grass where his deer had fallen.

  From the amount of blood and crimson color, Jace agreed with Miss Sutter’s assessment of the situation. The animal was certain to bleed to death before getting far. It had to be dead on its feet to have allowed her anywhere near it, let alone remove the arrow. How it summoned the stamina to move on, Jace hadn’t a clue, but he knew it would bed down in dense cover as soon as it could. Like any diligent hunter, Jace was obligated to recover it.

  He reexamined the arrow. The hair attached was coarse, dark gray with dark tips, and two or so inches long. This evidence indicated a perfect kill shot behind the shoulder, not in the gut, as the girl had claimed.

  With a shake of his head, Jace stood, preparing to track the deer. He would find out the truth soon enough, though with a wounded deer, one could never be certain as to how soon that might be. Mrs. Tremont was in dire need of protein. Since the old woman had no husband or sons, Jace would do what he must to provide it.

  It had taken only one house call to discover that the duties of the country doctor entailed catering to each patient on a more personal level than was possible with the human wreckage he’d treated at Pittsburgh Hospital. Although his office had yet to open officially, he already knew the hell of the emergency ward—and the endless misery that flowed through its wide double doors—was a stark contrast to a small-town practice. He could make a real difference in Misty Lake, and not just to the wealthy summer visitors. Here he’d have the time to focus on each patient case without the patch-them-up-and-ship-them-out approach of the hospital. The change would be just what he needed to replenish his spirit from the toll of the daily tragedy that had sucked him dry.

  Inhaling deeply, he forged past the memory of his internship in the city and the suffocating despair that came along with it. The pine-scented breeze coursed through his senses, anchoring him back to the present. The beauty of his current surroundings lifted his mood. There was nothing like a walk in the woods and reconnecting with nature to remind him that he was alive.

  Perhaps if he’d found some comparable diversion from his rote existence in the city, he might have fared better there. Not that it mattered now. He’d made a decision to build a practice in the country, and he intended to succeed come hell or high water. Even so, he knew that, as a stranger, he should expect some initial hostility and skepticism from Misty Lake’s residents. Miss Sutter had merely acted upon the resentment that a lot of her neighbors were nursing privately.

  Swatting at a horsefly, he took a few steps in the direction in which the deer had bolted, searching the ground for the blood trail that would lead to his prey. Bloody hoof prints led from the scene. Hunching down for a closer look, he followed the tracks to a birch log, scanning the ground as he moved. “What the…?”

  Not a single droplet of blood lay anywhere in the vicinity of the tracks. Had the deer’s wound simply stopped bleeding? He scratched his head, glancing around. The blood flow might have ebbed somewhat, but to cut off entirely without leaving a trace? Preposterous. There had to be a logical explanation. There always was. As a man of science, Jace was curious to know what the devil that explanation was.

  He inspected the peeling bark on the decaying log, then saw something flutter on the ground behind it. He reached for the discarded leaf of paper trapped in the weeds. Miss Sutter’s? He collected the thing, then read with interest the letter that was, indeed, addressed to Madeline Sutter.

  The past is the past, my dear friend, and you must lay it to rest. Eventually, the town will follow suit.

  Who was this strange woman he’d encountered in the middle of nowhere? The woman who refused to attend her friend’s wedding, but had no qualms about dislodging an arrow from a wild animal or ordering a man twice her size off her property?

  Madeline Sutter intrigued him, and few women accomplished that feat. Jace looked forward to meeting her again. He glanced toward the path through the field. Locating her residence wouldn’t be difficult. And her dropped letter gave him the perfect excuse to pay her a visit. For the moment, though, he had a deer to track in the opposite direction.

  He gathered his things, then headed into the woods. When he returned to town, he would ask around about his latest acquaintance. Whoever she was, he couldn’t wait to find out more.

  Chapter 2

  Thankfully, the house was quiet when Maddie returned home. Since it was Saturday, Rhetta would be elbow-deep in laundry, and the echo of Gil’s axe confirmed he was splitting wood out back. Grandfather took his daily nap promptly at noon, so Maddie was confident she could make it to her room undetected. She needed to change her clothes, as she hadn’t the energy to explain her bloodstained dress either to her grandfather or to the loyal household staff.

  Despite her aching leg, she raced up the wide staircase to her room at the end of the hall. Closing the door quietly behind her, she exhaled in relief. Sunlight poured through the windows, drenching her in golden warmth. Inside this room she always felt safe. During her recovery, she’d spent months confined to her bed, staring at the walls of her private infirmary until she knew each tiny rosette on the floral wallpaper, each curve of the glossy wood molding by heart. This room knew her just as well, for it had seen her at her worst.

  The plush carpet had cushioned the impact of the numerous falls she’d suffered while forcing her shattered leg to support her weight, despite Doctor Filmore’s orders to accept her lameness and resign herself to using a cane. The down pillows on the brass bed had ab
sorbed her tears of pain and frustration when she’d feared he might be right. They’d muffled her screaming nightmares and cradled her head while she’d cried herself back to sleep. The thick draperies had shielded her from the world outside and the light of day she’d been too despondent to face.

  In the safety of this room and the familiar furnishings, time stood still. Memories of her life before the accident, the friends and the moments she missed so much, lingered like cobwebs in every corner. Within the solitude of these walls, she could revel in the happy memories and wallow in the ugly ones without moving forward. This room held her past. Her lost dreams. Her secrets.

  After undressing quickly, Maddie balled up the soiled dress and shoes and stuffed them into a pillowcase. She pushed the bundle into the back of the tall armoire, then closed it tight. She’d discard the mess at the first opportunity. Of course, Rhetta wouldn’t make the task easy. The vigilant maid didn’t miss a trick, but Maddie would concoct some way to dispose of the evidence.

  She scrubbed her hands, then changed into a clean day dress and shoes. Exhausted, she plopped into the large chair by the window. The ache in her leg had intensified, but she’d grown used to the chronic pain. Leaning back in the chair, she closed her eyes. Her thoughts returned to Doctor Merrick. Jace. Her breath hitched. The vivid picture of his striking face filled her mind. Thoughts of his muscular body quickly followed.

  For a moment in the forest, through eyes untainted by the story of her past, he had noticed her as a woman. She’d sensed his awareness—that certain glint that sparked in men’s eyes when they saw something they liked. Of course their squabble about the deer had quickly doused that spark, but she’d felt his brief attraction nonetheless.

  It had been ages since a man had looked at her that way. And twice as long since she’d enjoyed it. The unexpected encounter reminded her how much she missed the attention—how truly starved she was for it. Even now, she found herself savoring that morsel of a moment and how delicious she had felt in the warmth of his desire.

  Maddie opened her eyes, frowning. Why on earth was she still thinking of the man? He was a doctor. A threat. She supposed it might be this very fear of him that attracted her. She’d seen the doubt in his intelligent eyes when she fed him her story about the wounded deer. The way he’d analyzed the bloody arrow spoke of a man who questioned things, a man who sought answers. A man who’d do what he must to get them.

  For all she knew, he was still trudging through the woods, trying to track the animal. She’d sent him on a fool’s errand when he was attempting to help Mrs. Tremont, and she couldn’t ignore her nagging guilt for his wasted effort.

  For the first time after using her gift, Maddie questioned her actions. She’d never before considered the possibility that her strange skills might hurt others as much as help them. She’d never given it much thought at all. Instead she’d acted emotionally, by instinct, when she’d revived the deer, and the sparrow that had crashed into the parlor windowpane, and the kitten that had gotten caught in the stable door and broken its neck. Could these acts of compassion have unknown consequences? And what of her attempts to heal Grandfather?

  Her spirit sank as she mulled the problem. Damn Jace Merrick for dimming this one ray of light in her life. Her talent for healing was all that she had, but suddenly, thanks to the trespassing doctor, she was beginning to question whether it was truly a blessing.

  An hour later, Maddie headed to the dining room for luncheon. Grandfather was already seated at the head of the long table, enjoying his afternoon glass of port. He looked so small in the high-back chair that had once made him seem like a looming Titan. He was a withered colossus now—fragile and alone.

  She swallowed her grief and a lump of guilt. His failing health was beyond her control, but there was no denying she was the reason they’d eaten each meal of the past three years with empty chairs at their elbows.

  “Good afternoon, Grandfather,” she said, slipping into the chair at his right.

  He lifted his glass in greeting, then took a quick sip. His hollow cheeks were pale. She resisted the urge to ask how he felt, remembering his request that she limit such inquiries to once a day at most. Honoring her promise was becoming increasingly difficult as her worries for Grandfather’s health intensified. Whatever would she do without the stubborn old goat?

  For a moment she was tempted to try to persuade Grandfather to seek treatment from the town’s new doctor. But the household help kept him well informed of town news, and she strongly suspected that the clever man already knew plenty about Jace Merrick and had decided he would have less nagging from his beloved grandchild if the doctor’s arrival remained a secret from her.

  “Ah, Maddie. I can tell from that sour face of yours that you finally received a response from Amelia,” he said.

  She nodded, thankful to be diverted to a less frightening topic. In the face of Grandfather’s failing health, the Amelia dilemma was but a small thing.

  “She refuses to accept my regrets.”

  He smiled. Beneath his bushy gray brows his eyes twinkled with ageless wit.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” He set down his glass, his fingers trembling with the effort. “What does surprise me is that the Hogles allowed her to extend an invitation to you at all.”

  “Oh, you know Amelia,” Maddie said with a sigh. “She probably refused to hold the wedding in Misty Lake unless I was included in the party. She loves Lester Hogle, but she wants me there. And Amelia always gets what she wants.”

  “Too true! She’ll run that boy ragged, for sure.” Grandfather’s burst of laughter was strangled by a fit of deep coughing. Despite his claims to the contrary, these spells were becoming more frequent. His heart was weakening, and his condition was deteriorating at an alarming rate. She’d tried her best to heal the unsuspecting man, but each day it became more apparent that her nightly ministrations were ineffective against his disease. Poor circulation left him sallow, fluid swelled his chest and limbs, and now this chronic cough.

  Maddie waited on tenterhooks until Grandfather finally caught his breath. He despised being coddled. In fact, he barely allowed the application of the salve she used to disguise her healing attempts. At seventy-two, he still had the same pride that helped him amass a great fortune as a young man. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he cleared his throat, then continued as if nothing were amiss. “So it’s settled then. You’re attending.”

  “I must. For Amelia.” She took a long breath. “For the girls.”

  He reached for his drink. Maddie rarely mentioned the accident to him anymore; it simply wasn’t worth the effort. Grandfather had mourned the tragedy in his own way, in silence and denial—and he’d insisted she do the same. While he’d been a constant presence as she recovered from her injuries, she’d had to manage her grief in private.

  She hated that she still harbored some resentment about this silly code of silence. Especially now, when Grandfather’s health was so poor. She loved the man with all her heart, but he had imposed a critical distance between them by refusing to discuss what happened. Try as she might to ignore it, Maddie continued to feel the ache of their unsaid words through every crevice of her lonely soul. Several long moments passed before she spoke again.

  “Pastor Hogle will be at the wedding.”

  Grandfather frowned. “To hell with Pastor Hogle.”

  “And Daniel.”

  “To hell with him, too.” He took another sip of port. “You’ll have to find your guts, girl, but you’ll find them.”

  He spoke the truth with his usual curt elegance, and she was grateful for his support.

  “I suppose you may go ahead and send for Cousin Marvin,” she said.

  He lowered his weary eyes to the drink in his trembling hand.

  “About Marvin…” He studied the glass as though searching for words in its crimson contents. The lengthy pause signaled that the forthcoming news wouldn’t be good. “Marvin is unable t
o escort you.”

  Her heart sank.

  “He left for Paris last week. But perhaps I can—”

  “No, Grandfather, you cannot. I love you to pieces for offering, but I won’t have you jeopardizing your health by escorting me. This affair will be crowded and filled with people you loathe.”

  He didn’t argue. He didn’t have the strength to argue, let alone attend the wedding and the string of events leading up to it. Amelia had written of her plans for a shopping trip, a lakeside picnic, rehearsal dinner, and dance. In another lifetime, Maddie would have swanned happily through twice that number of parties without a second thought. Now, it all sounded so overwhelming.

  Grandfather nodded in surrender. “My dancing is not what it used to be, anyway,” he teased. “We’ll devise a different plan.”

  Thanks to Cousin Marvin, they’d have to. Not that she could blame Marv for choosing the glitter of Paris over waltzing with his poor pariah cousin at a sleepy upstate wedding.

  “Of course we will.” She smiled with feigned optimism. And we have a mere four weeks to do it.

  * * * *

  Jace was pleased to see Mrs. Tremont eating the venison he’d procured from Les Toomey. After giving up his search for the deer he’d hit that morning, he’d resorted to accepting two pounds of venison in lieu of payment for stitching Les’s finger. Had Jace known Les always had an ample supply of fresh venison on hand, he’d have asked for it earlier instead of wasting an entire day in the woods in pursuit of an animal that had vanished into thin air. But then he wouldn’t have met the young woman he couldn’t get out of his mind.

  There was something so haunting about her. Those soulful brown eyes and flush cheeks. Those lips. Her delicate visage opposed the stiff pride in her shoulders, the brusque lift of her chin. Jace couldn’t recall ever being so intrigued by a woman. Fearlessness was a rare quality in a woman, but one Miss Sutter seemed to possess in spades.