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“You are a wonderful doctor, Zane.”
He laughed. “Not so wonderful. I spent a good many hours on my knees, asking God for help.”
“You are wonderful,” she contradicted. “Everyone says so. Even me.”
“Were you sick before you left St. Louis?”
“Probably. I had a chill. I’d gone on a picnic, down by the river, the day before.”
“A picnic? Who with?”
“With Dr. Beher. A professor from the conservatory. He teaches bassoon.”
Zane just looked at her. “Bassoon,” he echoed. “Not very romantic.”
“Oh, no. Herman and I are just friends.”
Zane’s frown was back. After a long minute, during which he paced to and from the door, he asked, “Are you hungry? Yan Li made those little pancakes you like for breakfast.”
“Is it breakfast time?” The sky outside her window was very blue, the sun well up.
“It isn’t, no. But they warm up nicely. I’ll just ask—”
“I must get up, Zane.” She sat upright and tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, then realized she was naked under the sheet. “Oh! Where is my night robe?”
“You don’t need it. You’re not going downstairs.”
Winifred just looked at the man. His expression was implacable. She’d seen it before, but it still surprised her how determined he could look. Like a bad-tempered watchdog.
“Besides,” he added with a chuckle, “at the moment the cat is sleeping on your gown.”
She followed his gaze to the chair, where the white cat was curled up on top of the blue silk.
“And besides that,” he continued, his voice stern but his gray eyes twinkling, “you couldn’t walk that far even if the house caught fire.”
Oh, she couldn’t? Well, Dr. Dougherty, just you wait and see.
Chapter Eleven
It was two whole days before Winifred could talk Zane into letting her come downstairs for breakfast. But he’d been at the hospital most of the night, Sam told her. That, she thought, was just as well. He would never have agreed to her breakfast venture, but she was so weary of lying in bed and staring out the window at the blue summer sky she couldn’t stand it one more minute.
She was unprepared for the effort it took to draw on her camisole and petticoat. Good heavens, she felt as weak as Sam’s kitten. Just bending to lace up her shoes left her gasping for breath, and as for her corset, well, she just couldn’t.
But she was determined to test her strength. She wanted in the worst way to attend Sarah and Rooney’s wedding, and that was less than a week away. She dressed carefully in a pale blue dimity skirt and a short-sleeved white lawn waist.
She came down the stairs holding tight to the banister and placing her feet carefully on each step. Before she was halfway down, she felt light-headed. She seated herself at the dining room table, admiring the poached egg on toast Yan Li had made for her and listening to Rosemarie’s baby talk as she petted the almost full-grown cat.
With a conspiratorial twinkle in his black eyes, Sam poured Winifred’s coffee. How good it smelled! She hadn’t been allowed anything stronger than tea for days and days.
After breakfast she watched her niece toddle unsteadily about the kitchen and the dining room. Yan Li dogged her steps but wisely let her try to walk. Most entertaining was the child’s prattle. She caught “’infred” a number of times, and “’at,” which she supposed meant “cat.” The stream of unintelligible syllables flowed on, ending with “Yee” for Yan Li.
Winifred finished her coffee and rose to move into the library, but Rosemarie grabbed onto her skirt and tugged.
She bent down to pick her up but found she hadn’t the strength to lift her. Oh, what now? She wanted to weep with frustration.
Instead, she took the girl’s tiny hand in her own.
“Come with me, little one. Let’s go into the library, shall we?” She matched her steps to Rosemarie’s small ones and together they got as far as the doorway before Winifred had to stop and rest. My heavens, was she not strong enough to walk from one room to another?
Suppressing her annoyance, she knelt on the floor and invited Rosemarie into her arms. How warm and sweet-smelling she was! And she never stopped her happy chatter. Yan Li came to offer a pretty rag doll with a red gingham dress and Rosemarie scrambled out of Winifred’s arms to grab for it.
