The Lady Who Lived Again. Thomasine Rappold
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 absorbed 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