“Are you feeling better, Miss Martin?” he said, and she recognized the voice as the man who had been with the porter. “A doctor should be here shortly.”
The doctor of this town was the last person she needed. She should be presentable . . . a proper lady in appearance and demeanor. “I’m . . . fine.” She became distinctly aware of reclining in the arms of this strange man. She stirred and tried to move, but a dull throb beat across her temple.
“You fell and hit your head.” His deep voice reminded her of Shakespeare and the reading of Hamlet. “I tried to catch you, but I wasn’t fast enough. Please accept my apologies.”
“Thank you. I mean, I’m sorry.” Jenny noted the man’s incredible good looks—handsome with wavy, straw-colored hair and a deeply tanned face. And it wasn’t her imagination. His eyes were the same color as the spring lilacs that bloomed outside her mother’s kitchen window.
“There’s no need to apologize,” he said. “Just rest until the doctor arrives.”
“I don’t need a doctor. Really. If only I could get to the boardinghouse where I might rest.”
“Nonsense. You have slept very little since leaving St. Louis and eaten even less. The journey from Ohio has been very difficult for you.”
His accurate accounting of the past several days of train travel disturbed her. How did this stranger know these things? She swallowed and fought the urge to be very ill. The train pulled away from the station, its deafening sound making her head throb worse than before.
“How do you know about me?” she said after several moments of ordering her body to cease its churning.
“Excuse my poor manners, Miss Martin, and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aubrey Turner. Do you recall the porter extending my invitation to join me?”
Jenny nodded and closed her eyes, feeling even more miserable.
“I feared you shunned my invitation due to my association with your sister,” he said. “But now I wonder if I should have contacted you sooner.”
Before she had a chance to consider Aubrey Turner’s words, Jenny heard the sound of boots stepping across the wooden plank of the train station.
“You must be the doctor,” Mr. Turner said. “I do say it has taken you long enough.”
“Yes, I’m Dr. Grant Andrews.” He paused. “I was tending to a patient when I received the message.”
Jenny turned her head. Her stomach convulsed. Her head pounded, and her throat burned. Beads of perspiration trickled down her face and slipped beneath the fabric of her dress. Disgusting vomit covered her. She neither had the strength to wipe her mouth nor the ability to stop the sickness. Whatever have I done to deserve this humiliation? Not only did she feel wretched, but she also knew she looked awful and smelled even worse. She fought the tears. How could she ever face anyone in Kahlerville after the spectacle she had just made of herself?
I’ve fainted, fallen, hurt my head, and vomited. And I haven’t been in town an hour. For the first time in her life, Jenny wished she could die.
Chapter 2
Jenny refused to succumb to another fainting spell. Dazzling sunlight shone overhead and blinded her, and huge drops of perspiration trickled down her face. Conscious of still lying in Aubrey Turner’s embrace, she felt as though floating in his arms. Everyone at the train station viewed her humiliation.
“I’m carrying you to the back of the doctor’s wagon,” Mr. Turner whispered. “I hope his office is more accommodating than this primitive wagon. At least there are a few quilts back here.”
Jenny didn’t care what the wagon looked like. She simply wanted to be far away from onlookers. “Thank you, Mr. Turner, for helping me. This is . . . quite regrettable.”
“Once you’re out of this heat, you’ll feel better,” he said. “I do hope your condition improves very soon, Miss Martin.”
Jenny couldn’t construct a single intelligent word. She closed her eyes and reclined on the hard wagon bed.
“I apologize for the discomfort,” Dr. Andrews said. “It’s but a short distance to my home. There I can determine what has made you so ill.”
She didn’t respond to his kind voice either. She’d rather be making her way to the undertaker.
Dr. Andrews drove the wagon slowly. Must the whole town view her miserable condition? Once at his residence, he carried her inside to his office and onto an examination table. She glanced about at his equipment, very similar to what she was accustomed to seeing in Cleveland.