Joy for Mourning. Dorothy Clark

      Laina sighed and climbed out of bed, pulling on her new peacock-blue dressing gown as she walked to the window. Was her desire for children becoming an obsession? She’d heard of women’s minds going queer over such things.

      A shiver raced down her spine. Laina wrapped her arms about herself and stared out into the night. Being around Sarah, Mary and baby James these past few weeks hadn’t eased her longing for children as she had expected—it had increased it. And watching Justin and Elizabeth together made her ache with a desire to experience a love such as theirs.

      Laina clenched her hands into fists and glared up at the night sky. “If You’re an all-powerful God, You could have answered my prayers, Lord. You could have given me children and a love like Justin and Elizabeth’s. Instead You took Stanford from me.” Hot tears stung her eyes. “At least with Stanford I had companionship. Now I’m alone. I have nothing!”

      The tears overflowed and poured down her cheeks. Laina spun away from the window, her chest so tight with hurt she couldn’t breathe. She swiped the tears from her cheeks and forced air into her lungs. Very well. If that was the way God wanted it, so be it! She would live her life alone.

      “What a gorgeous April day!” Elizabeth spread her arms and twirled around in the sunshine. “We have come to the end of the cold, gray days of winter, Laina.”

      “One can hope.”

      “Now, that’s a gloomy remark.” Elizabeth shot her one of those assessing looks.

      Laina cringed inwardly. She hadn’t meant to let her dismal outlook slip through her cheery facade. “Pay me no mind, Elizabeth. I’m tired.”

      The question in Elizabeth’s eyes turned to concern. “Are you still not sleeping well?”

      Should she tell her about the dream? No. It would serve no purpose. Laina shook her head and walked toward the pavilion being cleaned by the servants in preparation for summer. “Better…but not well.”

      “I wish there was something we could do.”

      “So do I, Elizabeth—fervently so!” Laina forced a smile to mask the need in her words. She hated herself for feeling so helpless. “But there is nothing beyond the love and comfort you and Justin have extended by sharing your home, your children and your lives with me. You’ve been wonderful.” She sucked in a deep breath and forced out the words she didn’t want to speak. “Unfortunately, my life is what it is—and I must learn to live it. I’m going back to New York.”

      “New York?” Elizabeth grasped her arm. “But Laina, dear, why? It’s only been a few weeks and we love having you with us. The children—”

      “I shall miss them dreadfully! And you and Justin, as well.” Tears smarted in Laina’s eyes. She blinked them away.

      “Then don’t go. Stay with us. Please.”

      Laina shook her head. “I have to go back.”

      “Why? What awaits you in New York?”

      Justin’s deep voice made them both jump and spin to face him. Laina’s throat constricted. “Nothing, dearheart.”

      “Then why…?”

      “Because of that!”

      Justin’s gaze traveled in the direction of Laina’s pointing finger. “I don’t understand.”

      “I believe it’s the new growth, Justin.” Elizabeth indicated the tiny tips of folded green leaves that were breaking through the cold brown soil of the garden beds.

      Justin frowned. “Is that it, Laina? The flowers? I don’t understand.” He took her by the arm and led her to the bench beside the path. “Now tell me, what have flowers to do with you going back to New York?”

      Laina squared her shoulders and cleared her throat of the lump that was threatening to choke her. “The flowers are starting to live again. Look around you, Justin. Everything is coming to life again—new life after a cold, dark winter. I have to do the same.” She took a deep breath and turned her head to look at him. “Don’t you see, dearheart, I can’t borrow your life any longer. No matter how painful it is, I have to live mine.”

      Justin sucked in a deep breath, squeezed her hands so tightly she thought her bones would break, then jumped to his feet and began to pace along the brick walk. Laina’s heart hurt for him. It was another reason to go back to New York—she had brought him pain. She took refuge from all the hurt in anger. Do what You please to me, Lord, but spare my brother any anguish over my situation. He trusts You.

      “All right.”

      She looked up as Justin spoke.

      “All right, Laina, I’ll accept that.” He moved close to her. “But why must you live your life in New York? Why not here in Philadelphia, where you will be close to us?”

      “Yes. Why not, Laina, dear?” Elizabeth took Justin’s place on the bench beside her. “Surely you can—”

      “I’ve got it!” Justin slammed his fist into his other palm with such force the resulting crack of sound made Laina jump. He grinned down at her. “I have the solution.”

      “Oh, dearheart, there isn’t a solu—”

      “Twiggs Manor!” Justin’s grin widened. “I’ll give you Abigail’s house. That way, you can live your own life and be close to us at the same time.”

      Laina stared at him.

      “Justin, it’s perfect!” Elizabeth squeezed Laina’s hand. “You will do it, Laina, won’t you? You will come live in Twiggs Manor?”

      “Well, I don’t know…it’s— I had thought of…” Laina shook her head. She was not making sense. She looked up at her brother.

      He stared down at her. “Say yes, Lainy. It’s the right thing to do.”

      There was absolute certainty in his face and voice. “All right—yes!”

      Justin laughed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Good! Everything’s going to be all right—heart’s promise.”

      With his arms around her, she almost believed him.

      A small thrill of excitement zipped through Thad as he glanced down at the letter in his hand. He hadn’t expected Dr. Bettencourt’s answer to his letter for at least another week. It must have come from Paris by packet. Probably on the ship that had sailed into port today. Fortunately for him, Justin Randolph’s captains were a courageous bunch who outsailed the captains of other lines and vied amongst themselves for the best crossing time.

      Thad tucked the missive into his waistcoat pocket, climbed into his buggy and picked up the reins. He grinned as the gelding pricked his ears, listening for instructions. “Let’s go home, boy.” The horse moved forward at once.

      Thad relaxed back against the seat to rest while he was able. He’d had a busy morning and, if past performance was any indication, he’d have a busy evening. Most of the sailors he’d come in contact with headed straight for the waterfront grog shops when released from their duties aboard ship. In a short time, the liquor they consumed turned them into drunk, boisterous men ready to fight at the slightest provocation. That’s where he came in. The sailors sober enough to walk would drag their hurt mates to his house and he would spend hours splinting broken bones, stitching and bandaging knife wounds and generally caring for the bruised and battered conditions of those still alive.

      Thad sat up a little straighter and patted the letter in his pocket. At least he could try some of the new theories on the sailors. Justin Randolph was a progressive thinker who believed in Thad’s theories on cleanliness and fresh air in the sickroom. It was a shame Justin couldn’t convince his friends.

      Thad sighed. What good did it do to correspond with the French doctors who were leading the way in practicing diagnostic medicine, when he couldn’t get his patients to allow