Page 31 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

Gabriel rubbed her back. “You need not do this.”

“Who else will? His family should not risk catching smallpox. I have tended him this past week; I shall continue to do so until he reaches his final resting place. And I will pay for the funeral and the headstone so he will not be forgotten.”

“The Farrers will not accept your charity.”

“Tell them the parish donated it or some other—” she cried.

Gabriel prised her fingers from the boy’s cold hand. Strong arms pulled her into his firm chest. She could not control the sobs that wracked her body. Her tears flowed while Gabriel whispered soothing sounds into her hair. She must stink to high heaven, but he clearly did not care.

A wondrous sense of comfort washed over her. How had she survived without him?

A cough at the door had them flying apart.

Blythe swiped at her eyes when Reverend Worthing entered with his prayer book tucked to his chest.

CHAPTER 12

Gabriel placed a square of linen over the small incision on Elijah’s arm.

Blythe’s son peered up at him from his seat at the long mahogany dining table. “What will happen now?”

“The cowpox matter will enter your body, and you will feel unwell for several days. After that, you will be protected from smallpox for the rest of your life.”

“How does it work? Is it safer than using smallpox matter?”

“Studies have shown a greater survival rate when inoculating with cowpox rather than smallpox, especially in infants.”

“Do you think the disease will ever be eradicated?” Elijah’s brown eyes, obviously inherited from his sire, met Gabriel’s. Damn you, Zachary Simmonds!

“I hope so. Much is changing all the time with new theories and the development of new equipment to help us diagnose patients.”

“I think I would like to become a doctor.”

Gabriel’s insides withered. Elijah should have been his son. He would have nurtured the boy’s interest and shared his knowledge. Then, after university, they would have worked together. “While a fulfilling occupation,” he croaked, and cleared his throat, “I am afraid it is not particularly revered.” He reached for the boy’s free hand and set it atop the linen. “Hold this in place.”

“Mama says it is an honour to be trusted with caring for others.”

Gabriel bandaged Elijah’s arm. “She is correct. It is a vocation for me. My father is a barber-surgeon; my mother a midwife and healer. I always wanted to follow in their footsteps.” Unfortunately, the long line of Sharpes in the medical profession would end with him.

“What was Mama like when she was younger? You knew each other before she married my father, did you not?”

Gabriel froze while returning his tools to the leather wallet on the tabletop. “We were childhood friends.” More than friends, and how much Blythe meant to him became more difficult to ignore with every moment spent in her company. More—he wanted more from the woman who had broken his heart, and that made him a fool of the highest proportion.

The boy continued, unaware of the incessant battle that raged in Gabriel’s head. “She nursed my father when he was ill, much to the annoyance of my grandmother. Grandmama Simmonds did not think a woman of my mother’s station should stoop to caring for the sick—even her husband. But Mama insisted. I did not know she possessed such skills.”

While Gabriel rolled up his tool wallet, his heart softened further. “She cared about helping the sick and injured from a young age.” He returned his attention to the boy. “She once brought me a pigeon with a broken wing. We nursed it together until it could fly again. Then there was the hedgehog, a stray dog and several cats.”

“Is that why there are so many cats on the farm?”

“I believe they are descendants of the cats your mother took in.” Gabriel winked. “To catch rodents, of course.”

“How long will it take me to study to be a physician?”

The boy had so many questions. Just like his mother. Gabriel washed and dried his hands. “Do you not wish to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

“Unlike my papa, I am not fascinated by making more money for myself or others.” Elijah’s lips pursed when he rolled down his sleeves.

“Then you may be content with the life of a poor country physician. If you want to earn more, I suggest you remain in York where you can build a practice of wealthy patients.”