The Wedding Journey. Cheryl St.John

the younger one’s mother. She had the same black hair, though silver strands laced her temples and a shock of silver had been artfully drawn back from her face. Maeve had never seen a woman of her age without creases or lines in her face. Her hair and a few nearly imperceptible crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes were the only subtle clues to her age.

       The older woman considered Maeve with disdain and dismissed her as though she wasn’t there. She guided the one Maeve assumed was her daughter into the dispensary.

       Now Maeve was faced with a dilemma. She hadn’t intended to speak until spoken to, but she couldn’t very well let these two stand there without telling them Dr. Gallagher wasn’t in. She took a breath.

       “Flynn?” the younger one called and glanced expectantly toward the back room.

       Maeve released the air in her lungs. Flynn? “The doctor’s not here at the moment.” She glanced at the younger woman and then away. “He should arrive soon.”

       The woman’s glance traveled from Maeve’s face and hair to her shoes and back up. She towered over Maeve by a good eight inches. She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t devise any designs for the doctor’s attentions.”

       Maeve couldn’t have been more startled. No words came to her.

       “Flynn’s family and mine are close. He and I are cut from the same cloth.” She let her gaze fall again, as though pointing out the world of difference in weaves of cloth.

       Maeve resisted touching her skirt with a self-conscious hand.

       “Our fathers have made arrangements, and Flynn and I have an understanding. So don’t imagine your undeveloped charms will hold any appeal to him when he has someone like me.”

       Maeve remained speechless. What might she have said to that?

       The dark-haired young woman turned her back and faced the other direction.

       Perturbed at their rudeness, she tamped down growing irritation and went about her chores.

       Several minutes later and not a second too soon, the doctor returned.

       “It’s a pleasure to see you this morning, Kathleen. Mrs. Boyd, how are you faring?”

       “I am well, thank you,” Mrs. Boyd replied.

       “What brings you to the dispensary so early?”

       “It’s Kathleen,” the older woman said. “She barely slept a wink last night. Her ears hurt severely.”

       “Did you meet Miss Murphy?” he asked.

       The two Boyd women didn’t look at Maeve.

       “They only just got here,” Maeve answered. “We didn’t have an opportunity to chat.” She offered Mrs. Boyd a sweetly antagonizing smile, and immediately regretted it.

       The woman’s nostrils fared.

       “Miss Murphy has filled a position as my assistant. She’s as efficient and capable as they come. I can already tell she’s going to be my right hand during this voyage.”

       Kathleen shot Maeve daggers. “How unfortunate for you, Flynn. I heard you had no choice but to hire someone off the dock.”

       “And she’s already proven herself. Look how Hegarty turned out, and he had references. I wouldn’t have selected her if I hadn’t thought she possessed the skill required for the job. Miss Murphy, this is Miss Kathleen Boyd and her mother, Mrs. Estelle Boyd.”

       Maeve gave a polite nod. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you both.”

       “Let’s have a look at those ears,” he said and reached for Kathleen’s hand to help her up the wooden step to the examining table.

       She stretched her long pretty neck to accommodate him and batted her thick lashes.

       “You’ve traveled by sea before.” His words reiterated what Kathleen had revealed about their relationship. “Have you had problems in the past?”

       “Yes, I felt this same way last time.”

       “Are you experiencing any vertigo?”

       “Why yes. Yes, I am.”

       “That should go away in a day or so as your body grows accustomed to the ocean. Any queasiness or vomiting?”

       “A little.”

       “Excessive tiredness?”

       “Yes, now that you mention it. But I can’t sleep.”

       “How about a tingling in your feet?”

       “Yes, the tingling definitely kept me awake most of the night.”

       “I suggest you spend as much time above deck as possible. It helps. There’s nothing I can do for you. You might want to place a cold cloth on your forehead. Don’t drink any alcohol or eat apples.”

       “Shall I bring her back for another consultation?” Mrs. Boyd asked.

       “It’s always a pleasure to see you both,” he answered politely.

       At a knock, Maeve crossed to usher in another young woman.

       “I’m not feeling well,” she told Maeve. “I’d like to see the doctor.”

       “He’ll be right with you.”

       With his smile in place, Flynn ushered Kathleen and her mother out of the dispensary. In passing, Kathleen inspected the incoming patient with a frown of concern.

       Once the door was closed, Dr. Flynn whispered to Maeve, “I made up the tingling feet part.”

       Maeve raised her eyebrows in surprise. Kathleen had gone right along with his list of symptoms, making it obvious she’d only come to see the handsome young doctor—and perhaps to warn away his new assistant.

       “What can I do for you this morning?” he asked the young woman who’d just arrived. Maeve already had a nagging suspicion that no matter what the complaint, this case would have a similar outcome.

       “I fell against a doorpost when the ship tossed. I believe I’ve injured my shoulder.”

       “Miss Murphy will help you slip one arm free, so I can examine your shoulder.” He turned away and washed his hands.

       The young woman gave Maeve a disapproving glance.

       Maeve gestured for her to sit upon the examining table. “What’s your name?”

       She unfastened the back of the other woman’s rust-colored satin dress. The fabric was like nothing she’d ever felt, and the buttons were tiny carved ivory disks. Beneath it she wore a fine silk chemise.

       Flynn dried his hands and joined them.

       “I am Miss Ellnora Coulter. Having just finished school in London, I’m traveling to the States with my parents. My father has investments in Boston.”

       Her English was proper with no hint of a brogue. Maeve glanced at Dr. Gallagher to gauge his reaction to the pretty young miss. He didn’t seem interested in anything but her shoulder as he moved close. “I don’t see any bruising. Help her back into her sleeve, Miss Murphy.”

       Once her dress was in place, he probed the area with his fingertips. “Does this hurt?”

       “Yes.”

       “This?”

       “Yes, indeed. It’s quite painful.”

       Without a warning knock, the cabin door opened and Nora entered, stooping to accommodate her height. Her face was flushed, and she wore an expression of worry and concern Maeve had seen far too often. The surprising thing was that she cradled a bundled apron against her breast.

       “Nora?” Maeve said, turning to meet her. “Whatever is…?”