"Did she die?"
"No, they dissolved their marriage a few months after the end of the war."
"I see," Vivid said softly, but the knowledge only raised more questions.
"I believe you are the fiery pillar, Viveca."
"Abigail, I'm not denying your grandfather may have had a dream, but I doubt it had anything to do with me."
"I understand."
"Abigail, you can't possibly believe that."
"Of course I do. I've been waiting for you for ten years."
Vivid looked across the table at her, stunned by this revelation. "Abigail-"
"Viveca, I am not asking you to believe anything I have told you. That is not important. Do you want to have babies, my dear?"
At the abrupt question, Vivid stared into those dark gray eyes that were so reminiscent of Nate's and stammered. "If I marry someone, I'd like to have some daughters, yes."
Abigail smiled. "Just daughters?"
“Well, maybe a son or two. Why do you ask?''
"Because the Graysons have only sons, always have."
Vivid smiled, "Well that's another reason your nephew and I will never marry."
“Scoff while you may, young lady. Just remember I warned you."
"I most certainly will," Vivid said, smiling. "I'm going home now." And with that Vivid departed with a wave and a smile.
That afternoon, Vernon brought over a mule.
"My uncle says she's in good health," he told Vivid as she slowly walked around the animal. She checked the bone structure of its legs and the feel of its spine. The dark eyes appeared clear and surprisingly intelligent. Vivid had never owned a mule, but she knew from her schooling and the summers spent in Mexico that these hard-working animals were born from a male ass and a mare. "Does it have a name?"
"My uncle said the original owner just called it Mule. I suppose you could name it anything you'd like, Dr. Lancaster."
Vivid completed her appraisal. "How much does your uncle want me to pay him?''
"Says it's free, on account of Nate."
"Nate?" Vivid asked, turning to face Vernon. She had to look up as she did with all the men around here. "How does he figure in this?"
"Nate beat my uncle in the horseshoe pits yesterday at the church. The mule was the bet."
"I see," Vivid replied.
“It was all fair and square, Doctor. Everything above board."
"I believe you, Vernon. I wasn't questioning anyone's integrity. I'm just a bit surprised is all. Are you sure your uncle doesn't expect payment?"
"He says it's yours. He also said if you ever need his help with anything to please let him know."
Vivid smiled. “Tell your uncle I said thank you, Vernon."
"And Dr. Lancaster?" Vernon's eyes were very serious. "Welcome to the Grove."
He looked so sincere. Vivid smiled with all the warmth she felt and, holding his hand, thanked him.
Vernon, shy suddenly, walked to his wagon. "Well, I need to get to town and open my shop. You take care of yourself now, Dr. Lancaster. I'll see you soon."
Vernon drove his team down the road and left Vivid in the yard with her new mule.
She named the mule Michigan. Later that same afternoon a very large, fair-skinned man with a full cinnamon-red beard knocked at her door. He introduced himself as Bertram Winslow and the young boy at his side as his son, Caleb. Vivid had never seen the man before in her life.
"I met you yesterday at the church," he explained. "Though I doubt you remember me with so many folks about."
"I'm sorry to say I really don't remember meeting you."
"That's fine, Dr. Lancaster, it isn't important. Nate said you need a wagon."
Vivid nodded at this man who was as big as one of the Crowleys.
"Well, that wagon there wasn't doing me much good sitting out in my pasture, so I thought maybe you could use it. She's still in pretty fair condition. Come on, I'll show you."
As Vivid looked over the relatively small flatbed conveyance, he began to lecture on the fine points of axles, under carriages, and wheel mounts. Vivid had to stop him. "Mr. Winslow, the wagon looks fine. How much do you want for it?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Adam Crowley says you're a part of the Grove now. And if Nate says you need a wagon, we find you a wagon. Simple as that."
"Did Nate tell you I'd planned on paying for any wagon he found for me?"
"Can't remember him saying that, but it's no matter."
Vivid looked up at him and wanted to argue but realized that he probably still wouldn't accept her money. "All right, Mr. Winslow, you win, and thank you."
"Any time. You keep yourself well now."
After the man and his son left, Vivid walked around her new wagon and experienced the same sense of amazement she'd experienced when Vernon brought the mule. Free of charge? Had her experience with Adam Crowley really changed folks' attitudes? She wasn't naive enough to believe the sailing would be smooth from here on out, but she did see it as a signal of a good beginning. Nate Grayson's hand in this left her puzzled, however. She didn't have an opportunity to question him until late evening of the next day.
She was sitting out on her back porch reading a few of the medical journals she'd unearthed in her packing, a paper submitted by Theodore Billroth of the University of Vienna. He was a pioneer in surgical techniques, and in bacterial infections, especially as they pertained to wound fever. The paper, “Investigations of the Vegetal Forms of Cocobacteria Septica," had been published nearly two years ago.
Because of the breakthrough work done by physicians like Billroth and Mr. Lister, over in England, Vivid felt confident that the antiseptic medical practices they advocated, which she embraced wholeheartedly, would soon find favor in the United States. Right now, the techniques were being hotly debated in some medical corners and soundly denounced in others. Many of America's established physicians were still clinging to the theories advocated by Benjamin Rush, the subject of Abigail and Adam Crowley's debate, and one of the original signers of the Declaration of Independence. Some called him the Hippocrates of American medicine. Rush believed infections and disease were the results of noxious miasmas building up in the body. He advocated bleeding, puking, and the blistering of patients to rid the body of these accumulated poisons. He died in 1813, but his sometimes misguided therapies and theories were still practiced by many physicians, especially those who had received their training before 1850.
Vivid had been anxiously anticipating reading the Billroth paper but as she began, the rhythmic ringing of an axe jarred the silence. She tried to ignore it at first but the more she tried, the more distracting the sound became. She'd been inside her office all day, helping the Crowley sons lay her floor, and she didn't want to go in now and miss the last of the daylight She stepped off the porch, paper in hand, and walked across the grass to the back of the Grayson house.
Nate Grayson was splitting wood, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular arms. He stopped at her approach.
“May I ask how much longer you plan on chopping wood?''
"Why?" he replied, resuming the task.
"I was reading and the sound was distracting me."
He brought the axe down on the large cord again. "I'll be done in about a quarter of an hour. I promised the Widow Moss I'd do this for her. She doesn't have a man, so the Crowleys and I chop her wood."
"That's very neighborly."
He studied her face. "Are you being sarcastic, Lancaster?"
So he'd reverted to calling her Lancaster again. "No, I'm not."
He stopped chopping wood again and looked her in the eye. "Let me see your hands."
Vivid stared, confused, "Why?"
"I want to see if they've healed."
"They're not as red as they were, but they're still chapped."
"Let me see."
She sighed and held up one palm. Her paper under one arm, she then showed him her other palm.
&nb
sp; "You should've waited for me to hire someone."
“Why? So you could deride me for not doing my own scrubbing? You believe me to be helpless enough as it is."
He said nothing.
Feeling herself on the edge of another argument, Vivid took a calming breath and said, "Thank you for finding the mule and buggy."
"You're welcome."
Then he began chopping wood again.
"Vernon said you won it in a horseshoe bet."
"Vernon talks too much."
"Why would you get me a free mule if you're so set on my leaving?"
"It's how we do things around here is all."
"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Grayson. It's you I'm asking about."
He lifted his eyes to her and said, "It's not because of that kiss, if that's what you're fishing for."
At that moment Vivid wished she was the fiery pillar of the dream Abigail described so she could reduce him to a handsome mound of ash. "I'm not fishing for anything, least of all your kisses."
He set the axe down. "Something wrong with my kisses?"
The double-edged question would cut her no matter how she answered. By the set of his too-pleased face, he knew it also. "It was a kiss, nothing more."
"Nothing more," he stated, settling his gaze on her lips just long enough to make her heart pound. In spite of his heated perusal, she repeated confidently, "Nothing more."
"I see. You've had better, maybe?"
"Whether I have or not is not open for debate."
"In other words, you haven't."
"You and I are not going to have this talk."
"Didn't you say you were a physician and therefore a simple discussion of the physical realm would not send you running to the hills?"
She had said that. "Yes."
"So a simple kiss, a simple discussion."
"I'm leaving now, Mr. Grayson."
And as she walked away Nate filled his eyes with her swaying skirt and chuckled. "Coward."
Vivid stopped and turned. She surveyed him a moment, then calmly walked back to where he stood with his arms crossed, and looking entirely too handsome for his own good. She said evenly, “Never, ever call anyone raised west of the Rockies a coward unless you have all the aces in the deck, Nathaniel Grayson. I'm going to call your bluff."
"Meaning?"
Despite Vivid's initial bravado, she could not look in his eyes as she spoke. "I melted like wax when you kissed me. I've never been so moved by a man in my life."
"Now, it's your turn," she said.
He gazed at her beautiful face and knew the gates of his heart were opening wider even as he breathed. He had no business wanting this woman, yet he did. He admired the way she stood up for herself, the confidence she exuded. But there was more to her than that. His kiss had melted her, she'd said. He'd been caught off-guard once again by her frankness. The effect of her words could be measured by the hardness of his manhood.
Slowly he reached out and ran a finger over one dark silk cheek. He watched her eyes close, felt the virgin trembling of her skin. When he gently traced the outline of her jaw, then her currant-ripe mouth, the lips parted passionately. He leaned down and kissed her—his answer to her challenge.
Deepening the kiss, his sweetness filling her, he eased her closer, and Vivid responded instinctively. She slid her hands up his rib cage and around to the hard muscles in his back. This was no way to settle a dispute, but she didn't care.
Nate husked against her ear, "Aces around..."
He reclaimed her lips and Vivid shuddered in response. His big hands roamed slowly over her back. His fiery, masterful kisses filled her with such new and novel sensations, she could only tremble as he passionately nibbled her bottom lip then teased it captivatingly with his tongue. Her legs seemed to have lost all strength. Were it not for his hold upon her, Vivid swore she would have pooled into a puddle of water. His kisses on her arched neck made her moan, made her tingle.
When he finally turned her loose, she swayed unsteadily, her senses pulsing.
Nate thought she looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly kissed, but he wanted more. He wanted to bare her body to his caresses and discover if the rest of her was as delectable as her sweet chocolate lips. He'd let her go, however, to keep himself from transforming the fantasy into blazing reality. "So does that meet your definition of a simple kiss?" he asked, his smile entirely too masculine for her liking.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
He nodded. He did enjoy seeing her thrown off-balance. He savored the sight almost as much as he had her lips. "You've been running through my life like a tornado for the last two weeks. I'm simply pleased to have discovered the cure for slowing you down."
"That was your last kiss, Nate Grayson."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm serious."
"If I asked for another, you would say no?"
In response to the heat in his tone and manner, Vivid swallowed. What game was he playing now? "Yes."
"Why?"
And she replied truthfully, "Because I didn't travel all these miles to have my heart trifled with, not even by you." She added softly, "So good evening, Mr. Grayson."
Chapter 11
The next morning, Vivid hitched up Michigan and drove her new wagon into town with plans to stop at Miss Edna's first. She wanted to see if any of the items she'd ordered had arrived.
Miss Edna looked up at her entrance and said, "Oh, good, you're here. I was just about to send someone out after you. Betty Jane Carpenter's baby is overdue. I wanted to see if you'd go with me to check on her."
"Is there a midwife in the Grove?"
"Yes, I'm the midwife. Will you drive?"
Vivid nodded and they hastened out.
"Oh, wait," said Miss Edna in a rush, "I forgot the sign."
While Vivid waited out on the walk, Miss Edna went into the store and came out with a large square of wood. gone midwifing had been painted on it in large black letters, along with key is at the mill.
Miss Edna set the sign in front of the store's closed door and explained. "While I'm gone, folks can still use the store if the need arises. They simply go and get the extra key. Then they get what they need, lock the door again, and leave the payment and key back at the mill. I pick up the receipts when I return."
The women made a quick stop at Vernon's barbershop. Vivid asked Vernon if he would tell the Graysons where she had gone and he readily agreed. Vivid didn't want Nate searching the woods for her again. With Vivid at the reins the two women passed the time on the road getting to know each other better. Vivid liked Edna. Beneath the battered old hat she wore, she had a keen mind and a ready smile. They talked about San Francisco and Vivid's family. Then Edna told her about her daughter in South Bend. Vivid remembered Jewel Crowley saying that Edna's daughter had fallen in love with Nate. How many other women had fallen prey to his fatal handsomeness? She wondered. She put Nate out of her mind and asked Edna, "Did you say you've lived here in the Grove since the fifties?"
"Yes, I have. Came here from Virginia. Of course, there were fewer people here then. Life was a lot harder, too."
“Tell me about Virginia. Is it green like this?''
"Nothing is as green as Michigan, and I've seen a good portion of the country east of the Mississippi. After being in the slave pens at Alexandria I could not believe the beauty here."
"You were in the pens in Alexandria?" Vivid had heard about the pens from her father, who'd been a slave in Kentucky.
"Yes, for nearly three months. It was a horrible, horrible place full of sick, desperate, and dying members of the race. Whole families were jailed in the Bruin and Hill pen in Alexandria when I was there—babies, grandmothers. The only difference between my jail and the big ones Deep South were that folks in Alexandria who were able enough were allowed to write family members in hopes of having their bills paid so they could be freed. Sadly, most wound up being purchased by another master or mistress."
"My father
said he'd heard of people who'd died of starvation in the pens. You were lucky."
"Yes, lucky because my brother had a very clever friend who had both French and African blood. He convinced the owners of the pen that he'd been sent by the New Orleans merchant who'd paid for me. Because of my fair skin and privileged upbringing, I was headed for the fancy girl market in New Orleans."
Vivid had heard of those places also. The women at those markets were chosen for their bright skin and cultured ways and were usually purchased as mistresses by wealthy white planters or businessmen. Some of the women wound up in pleasure houses, but all were sold for very high prices.
"I am a Lee, of the Virginia Lees," Edna continued, “and if you know anything about the Virginia Lees, you know that there is a White branch and an African branch, and all are related. I was the pampered companion of my mistress and half-sister, Charlotte. We were the same age and had the same father but different mothers."
"Then how did you wind up in the pens?"
"When our father died in a hunting accident, the land and slaves were given over to his brother. His wife took one look at my face and sent me to the pens less than a week after she and the new master took possession. I was her husband's niece, but it didn't matter. She assumed I'd be a threat to the fidelity of her marriage."
"Couldn't your sister do anything to prevent you from being sold?"
"Charlotte did what she did best, she cried. My mother said being sold was my comeuppance for being so uppity. I suppose she was right. Charlotte and I had grown up together; we shared a room, wardrobe, tutors. I accompanied Charlotte on her grand tour of the continent after her cotillion debut. We both were fluent in French and read Latin and German."
Edna intercepted Vivid's stare and said with a wry smile, "Yes, my dear, I was quite the cultured little Negress, but I never considered myself a Black, not really. They were the help, I was not."
"Edna, I can't believe you felt that way."
"Oh, I did. I was as petulant and as spoiled as a rich planter's daughter, because in reality I was. My mother kept cautioning me about forgetting my place and acting as if I owned slaves instead of being one, but I refused to listen. I was one of the most beautiful women in the state of Virginia, Black or White, and no one could tell me a thing."