The Last Bloom Read online

“Please keep this between us,” she whispered.

  Amanda nodded, her sapphire blue eyes twinkling. “Never fear, your secret’s safe with me.”

  Alone again, Cassia studied her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes weren’t the dark blue of her mother’s, but the light blue of her father’s. “And they remind Brodie of his favorite marble,” she whispered with a smile.

  The next day in church, sitting up front with her mother, she took special notice of the love her parents shared. Joshua Holmes, into his middle eighties, stood straight as he preached at the pulpit. His shoulders were still broad, though not as muscular, and a crop of white hair replaced his dark curls. His eyes caught Amanda’s several times during the Gospel. Truth be told, he never really let her out of his sight when they were together. And he always held her hand, or placed his palm at the small of her back when walking beside her.

  Cassia glanced over at her mother. Amanda’s face radiated with love and pride for her husband. Her focus was only for him. The words he spoke and the kindness he bestowed upon his congregation made him more endearing. And briefly she felt a pain of sorrow, for the time when her parents’ endearment, to one another and all others, would no longer be shared. With each passing year, they grew older. What would happen to one without the other? She bit the inside of her lip, not wanting to dwell further on such a thought.

  Before returning her gaze up front, she glanced around the church—spotting Brodie sitting a few pews away in the opposite aisle. He was dressed in a dark jacket and matching trousers, white shirt, and no tie. His semi-casual look screamed Boston on a late spring day. She admired how handsomely his clothes fit him, his tall and muscular form sending ripples of excitement through her body. When his eyes locked with hers, heat radiated from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Embarrassed for being caught gaping, she quickly turned her gaze back to her father and pretended to be engrossed in his sermon for the day.

  After the service Brodie approached her, his easy smile and twinkling green eyes robbing her of any resolve. “I’ve taken the liberty to pack a lunch basket…nothing extravagant, just a few pieces of cold chicken I found in the ice box, cheese, rolls, a few homemade cookies I took from my sister’s house last night, and a jug of water. I thought we could go to the creek, the place near the rocks where we’d fish, and talk.”

  “I’d like that,” she said. Then, glancing at her church attire, she added. “I’ll go home and change and meet you back here in about ten minutes.”

  He nodded.

  Her heart raced, her mind swirled as she hurried to remove her Sunday frock and slip on a casual spring dress, sandals, and a straw hat. She reached for a few items, like cloth napkins, cups, butter, utensils, a container of potato salad left over from last night’s dinner, a couple of apples, and a blanket for them to sit on, and threw everything into a picnic basket her mother kept by the fireplace. She met Brodie by his wagon in front of the church. “I added just a few things to our picnic lunch.” She handed him the basket and climbed into the wagon.

  The day was warm but with a gentle breeze. The sun shone bright, and memories of the time she spent with the O’Clarity boys, fishing and eating plums by the creek, filled her thoughts with a yearning for such carefree days.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

  She sighed. “I was just thinking of how we ate plums by the creek while we fished.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Tucker and I fished; you kept throwing them back.”

  She smiled. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yup, irritated the hell out of me, but you felt sorry for the poor fish,” he reminisced. “And I couldn’t help but comply with your wishes, especially after you’d put on such a pathetic pout, your eyes filling with tears that spilled delicately down your cheeks with one, slow blink.”

  How her sympathy for the fish affected him, melted her heart. “I’m sorry if I was a pain, but I couldn’t stand to watch the fish as they gulped for breath with sides heaving and gills flapping. And I saw no reason to rob anything of its time here on earth just for sport. After all, we had food at home and didn’t need to eat what we caught to survive.”

  “I suppose your kind heart, the empathy you had for others is what brought you to the medical career,” he said.

  “I’ve been told I’m much like my sister, Sunny. She was always coming to the rescue of injured critters and nursing them back to health.”

  “Then the kindness runs in your family,” he observed.

  “And what of you…your reasons for becoming a doctor?”

  “The same feelings—the desire to help others. I saw my father doing his best to cure, heal, and save lives. I wanted to do the same. But the times you can’t help, no matter how hard you try, stays with you.” He sighed heavily. “Ahh, to be back there again, our childhood trauma only being for the life of a fish.”

  She nodded. “And to have that carefree feeling about us, letting our parents worry for our needs and wants.” She arched a brow. “It’s a dang good thing we can’t see what’s ahead for us, or else we’d be too frightened to get out of bed each morning.”

  “So true,” he agreed. “Such a foresight could drive a person crazy.”

  “I believe that’s exactly why the good Lord kept such information a secret from us,” she philosophized. “The same goes for when it’s our time to pass from this world.”

  “Don’t you think it would be convenient sometimes to know when we’re scheduled to die?” He quickly added, “I mean, so we can be prepared, settle things for our loved ones.”

  She cocked her head sideways, contemplating her answer. “I think men more so than women have such a mindset, as most of them are the breadwinners for their households. Without the man around to financially care for a family, the wife and children would suffer greatly and quickly be thrown into poverty and despair.”

  “But you’ll never have to worry about such things, Cassia, as you’ve gotten an education, have a profession whereby you can supply for yourself whatever you might need.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right about that, but…”

  “But what?” he interrupted.

  “I still want to be a part of a family,” she admitted. “Living life alone, without someone to love and share things with, as well as having children, isn’t what I hope to do…despite my ability to support myself financially.”

  “Me either,” he agreed softly.

  His words set her mind thinking. The handsome, strong, intelligent man sitting beside her shared the same ideals and desires, as well as her love for family and in helping others. He was beginning to touch her heart.

  “Are you bothered by the fact women are moving ahead, learning ways to be independent from a man.” She turned to look him straight in the eyes while he answered her question.

  He glanced her way and held her gaze. “I might be unusual in admitting this, but I think it only fair women have an equal opportunity to live their lives as secure and as free as any man. I’ve seen the devastation from a broken home too many times, whether the situation has come by the husband’s death or abandonment. I wouldn’t want that sort of sorrow for my sisters or the daughters I might one day father.”

  “Then you wouldn’t stop your wife from continuing or pursuing her dreams?”

  He chuckled lightly. “Well, I can’t say I’d be pleased with her choice of pursuing something of an indecent or illegal nature. But for her to have a legitimate and wholesome career, yes, I believe I’d support her fully, even be proud of her.”

  She smiled. “You’re a good man, Brodie O’Clarity.”

  He chuckled again, her compliment bringing a slight blush to his cheeks. “And you are a good woman, Cassia Rose Holmes.”

  Her cheeks warmed. Shyly she cast her glance aside, remaining silent the rest of the way to the creek.

  After helping her down from the wagon, Brodie handed her the basket she brought and reached for a blanket and his basket. “I’ve brought one as well
.” She helped him spread both out beneath the tree and then set their tiny feast upon them.

  As they ate, they reminisced about their childhood.

  “I’d sneak out of the house on late summer nights and skinny dip,” Brodie shared. “One night a few boys from Willow Creek decided to do the same and thought it would be pretty funny to steal all of my clothes.”

  She giggled. “Oh, no! What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “What else could I do but walk home naked? Thankfully the little thieves left my shoes, as they were hidden behind a rock. And it was late, so no one was about…and very dark that night as well with no moon.” He sat back against the tree’s trunk. “I made it as far as the bend by the Hendrick’s farm before a wagon came into sight and stopped right in front of me.”

  She gasped. “Oh my stars, how humiliating.”

  He chuckled. “Well, it could have been, but the driver was your father.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why in the world would my father be out so late?”

  “I learned later, hearing my parents talk, Reverend Holmes had been summoned by my father to the deathbed of a dying neighbor, asked to give a last blessing. Obviously, he was on his way home when he discovered me.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “Well, he motioned for me to get into his wagon, and after I did, he handed me a blanket to cover myself. I braced myself, thinking I’d be getting a real scolding…a lecture on the sinfulness of a thirteen-year-old young man walking around town late at night, naked. But he never asked one question as to why he caught me in such a situation. In fact, he never uttered a single word. He just kept his eyes on the road and drove me home.”

  She arched a brow. “Imagine, he never mentioned your strange encounter, but I’m not surprised. My father is an honorable man, doesn’t gossip, hates anything that can cause trouble, and never takes credit for what he does for others.”

  “Much like my own father, I’d say,” he countered.

  “So true,” she agreed.

  He sighed. “Do you think you could handle our patient schedule on your own tomorrow?”

  “Yes, no problem…but why?” she said.

  “I’ve only been to the hospital once to see my father, and that was when I first arrived home. Since taking over his duties, the opportunity to travel to Willow Creek hasn’t been available.”

  “Oh, Brodie, I’m so sorry. How inconsiderate of me not to have offered to take over for you before this.” Shame for her thoughtlessness pierced her conscience.

  “No. No, none of this is your fault.” He reached out to give her arm a reassuring pat.

  His hand lingered, his fingers gently encircling her arm. The warmth of his touch penetrated to her very core. As her gaze locked deep with his, she experienced a tingle of excitement. This moment sitting here with Brodie, his strong yet gentle hand heating her entire body, was the best time she’d ever known to date. And she wished—no, she prayed he’d lean over to kiss her lips.

  But instead he cleared his throat, removed his hand, and offered her more cheese, breaking the beautiful moment they shared. Embarrassed by the strange feelings weaving throughout her existence, she declined the cheese and stood.

  “I think I’ll wade a bit in the water.” She slipped off her sandals and ran ankle deep into the creek, reveling in the way its coolness calmed her hot flesh. To her relief, he remained sitting on the blanket. She moved upstream a bit, away from his immediate view, and inhaled sharply.

  “What an idiot I’m being,” she whispered to herself. To think for one moment Brodie would consider her in any way other than a good friend, a colleague was the most idiotic thing that had ever crossed her mind.

  Just as she neared the shore and was beginning to wonder how she’d return with dignity, he approached her. “If you walk to the blanket, your feet will get all sandy.”

  And with that, he picked her up and carried her back to the tree. Silently he dried her feet with the edge of the blanket he brought, making sure to get between her toes. His gentle administration again left her insides the consistency of jelly.

  “Your pink toes,” he said, in reference to the polish she wore. “Is this something new for women to do?”

  Nervously she giggled, pulling her dried foot from his grasp and slipping on a sandal.

  “Actually, no… I learned from a history professor while in England that the mummified pharaohs decorated their nails using henna, and African women have also been known to dye their fingertips. Of course, we don’t use henna now but instead nitrocellulose the United States acquired from Germany during the war, which allowed them to produce nail polish in this shade of pink.” She dried her other foot herself. “I met a young woman from New York City by the name of Celeste Foster,” she went on further. “She was one of my classmates, and she wore the polish on her fingernails which was soon frowned upon by our instructors.” She shrugged. “No doubt due to patient concern involving sanitary purposes.”

  He nodded. “I would agree.”

  “So, Celeste began to paint her toes. I liked the idea, and when we parted, her gift to me was the bottle of pink nail polish.” She put on the other sandal.

  “And cutting off all those long curls.” He glanced at her hair.

  She self-consciously combed her fingers through her shortened locks. “Yes, that as well.”

  A slow smile spread his lips. “Cassia Rose Holmes, you certainly are unique—indeed.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brodie woke early to beat the heat while making his way to Willow Creek’s General Hospital. His heart was hopeful, as his father was recovering nicely. A call to his mother last night updated his father’s progress. In a few days, he might be able to return home.

  The birds were in good form this morning as well. A Mourning Dove, sitting on the fence, greeted him as he hitched the horse to the wagon. Tree Swallows sang, their chirping tune echoing throughout the early hour. Even a Ruby-throated Hummingbird entertained him a bit. As he made his way farther out of Eagle’s Landing, he was graced with performances from the Cactus Wrens and the Black-capped Chickadees.

  He smiled, soaking in the beautiful spring day he was blessed to see and thinking of Cassia. He could still feel the soft flesh of her tiny foot in his hand, pink toenails peeking out from beneath the blanket he used to wipe her feet. Everything about Cassia intrigued him: her giggle, the way her marble-blue eyes locked with his, how she listened intently to whatever he said, her pale, bobbing curls framing an angelic face, the dimple in her chin, the cute wrinkle of a dainty nose when she smiled, her full pouting lips, as well as her independence, intelligence, and kindness. The way she walked, her shapely legs, rounded hips, tiny waist, ample breasts, even the softness of her voice—all of it held him spellbound. In only three short weeks, he’d grown from once being like her big brother to wanting a chance at being her man.

  The thought of her wrapped in his embrace, her warm flesh against his, made him shift uneasily on the hard, wooden seat of the old wagon. If he were made to stand and walk right now, it would be difficult. He was suddenly thankful no one was around at this early hour to view his condition, and that he had a very long way to go to reach Willow Creek. Hopefully it would be more than enough time to calm the goings on beneath his breeches.

  The town had grown considerably within the last five years. Taller buildings, longer and wider streets, as well as automobiles, put a different perspective to the entire area. Brodie felt ancient, traveling in a horse and wagon. Though many still navigated the old way, the automobile was quickly gaining recognition in Willow Creek…as it had done in Phoenix and Boston. It wouldn’t be long until small, sleepy hamlets, like Eagle’s Landing, would soon join the modern-day mode of travel.

  “The world is changing,” he whispered to himself. He was changing too. Working these last few weeks as a small town doctor wasn’t as boring or unrewarding as he’d thought. The fancy restaurants, pubs, and theaters weren’t readily available to enjoy. But
Eagle’s Landing held a warmth Boston lacked. “And the warmest attraction just happens to be named Cassia.”

  He had thought long and hard on his decision, and he was about to present it soon to his father. No doubt, Sean O’Clarity wouldn’t be able to ever take on the full load of patients he had been seeing before his heart attack, even with Cassia’s help. He frowned. Knowing his father as well as he did, sitting at home would drive him crazy. But if the three of them pooled their skills, his father would only have to work a day or two in the office, once he got back on his feet. And he and Cassia could pick up the slack with the clinic and the house calls. He smiled, anxious to reach the hospital and tell his father his plan.

  Willow Creek General Hospital in no way could be compared to Boston’s Medical Center. With only two floors other than the basement, which housed the operating rooms and morgue, it could still handle the influx of sick folks living in the small city and surrounding hamlets. As he entered the main foyer, a whiff of ammonia met his senses. His heels clicked noisily on the shiny linoleum floor as he made his way to the reception desk. A young woman with jet-black hair pulled back into a bun at her nape, smiled up at him.

  “Can I help you, sir?” She pushed the wire-rimmed glasses she wore higher up on the bridge of her nose with the tip of a finger.

  “I’m Doctor Brodie O’Clarity, here to see my father, Doctor Sean O’Clarity.”

  She nodded and then frowned as she scanned the roster of names listed on a sheet of paper. Once she found his father’s name, she smiled and raised her eyes to meet Brodie’s.

  “He’s been moved to a regular room, here on the first floor.” Her smile broadened. “Which you know, of course, happens when a patient is doing better.”

  He smiled now. “And that is a very good thing, indeed.”

  “Yes, it is.” She continued to stare at him.

  He cleared his throat. “And the number of the room, please.”

  “Oh, mercy me, I am so sorry.” She blushed as she looked again at her paper. “Room 6A.”

  He inclined his head politely. “Thank you, miss, and you have a nice day.”