“He’s sorted out what I need done for thecéilís,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “He washes the dishes and sets out the tables and chairs now every Saturday morning without my even needing to ask. He works alongside his da, and they even gab a bit, something they never do otherwise.”
Eliza had noticed how quiet Patrick could be. He’d been far more talkative when their conversations occurred while he worked. Something about it set him at ease.
The family kept discussing their brother and son, contemplating what chores he might be able to do, if they could talk him into lending a hand to his brothers and father in their fields, if those brothers and father would accept help from their prodigal kin. While the Irish didn’t have sole claim to stubbornness, this particular family seemed to claim it in abundance.
Lydia had grown tired of sitting on Maura’s lap and was toddling along the floor. Eliza would fetch her if she got in the way, but having a burned hand still throbbing made the prospect less than pleasant. She breathed through the pain each time she moved her hand. If only Dr. Jones had been in the soddie rather than out visiting. She might already be feeling better.
He arrived more than a quarter-hour later, apologizing and explaining about being pulled all over town to see to patients. She insisted she understood and hoped he knew she did.
“This is a significant burn,” he said, examining her hand. “The cool cloth has helped, but you’ll need ointment. And the risk of infection will remain until the blisters have healed.”
“But I have work to do,” she said. “I can’t neglect my duties.”
“You’ll have to make some adjustments. Anything that rubs the blisters open will have to be avoided. Anything that would subject your hand to heat.”
She shook her head. “I’m supposed to do laundry tomorrow. That requires dunking my hands repeatedly in hot water.”
“No.” He allowed no room for discussion. “Exposing this burn to more heat will keep it burning beneath the surface and do significant damage.”
Her shoulders drooped. “It’s my job,” she whispered, hoping Katie wouldn’t overhear. “I can’t lose my job. I’d have nothing to live on.”
Quite without warning, Katie Archer stood. “I don’t know what kind of people you worked for before, Eliza Porter, but we don’t toss people out because they’ve a burnt hand that needs mending. M’girls know how to do a lot of things. I certainly do, as well. You do what you cansafely, and we’ll tie up the loose ends until you’re well again.”
“I can’t justify being paid for work I’m not doing.” The guilt was part of the reason, but also the way her employer would think of her. She’d be a weight around their necks rather than an employee worth her pay.
A weight is never wanted.
“You’ve worked hard these past weeks. We know perfectly well that you’re not one for being slovenly or idle. We’ll not equate your lightened load to laziness or any such thing. We’d far rather you heal.”
Eliza shook her head, unable to bring herself to meet Katie’s eye. “Servants are replaceable.”
“Perhaps in New York City,” Katie said. “You’d be amazed the trouble we’ve had getting and keeping a housekeeper.”
“It’d help if they’d quit getting married,” Mrs. O’Connor tossed out, earning a laugh from the group.
“You set your mind at ease,” Katie said. “We like you, Eliza. You’ve been a welcome part of our home these past weeks. The girls adore your daughter. Even Sean is better behaved for you than for most people, and with that little lemon, that’s something I consider miraculous.” She set a hand kindly on Eliza’s shoulder. “Follow Dr. Jones’s instructions to the letter. We’ll not begrudge you the time you need.”
“Thank you.” Eliza didn’t entirely keep the emotion from her voice.
Katie smiled kindly and rejoined the sewing circle.
“Good people, the Archers,” Dr. Jones said. “I’ve been greatly impressed. The O’Connors are fine people as well.”
“You seem like fine people yourself, Doc.”
He smiled at her. “That is a generous assessment, considering how long you had to wait for me to arrive. The Scotts’ difficulty was not something Ihadto travel to them to address, but without an infirmary, I didn’t have much choice.”
Eliza motioned to her hand. “This likely could have been seen to in an infirmary as well.”
“If only Hope Springs had an extra building somewhere that wasn’t a tiny, cramped soddie.” Having gently applied ointment to her burn, he wrapped her hand carefully. “Keep it clean and, as I said, don’t expose it to any unnecessary heat. Give yourself time to heal, or you’ll pay the consequences.”
A sudden idea popped into her mind. “If there were a new building in Hope Springs built to include an infirmary, would that be something you would be interested in?”
“It would be a miracle, and that isn’t an exaggeration.”
It might be adoublemiracle. She lowered her voice and leaned a little closer to him. “Joseph Archer has helped me devise a business plan for building an inn out along the stage road. He’s investing. Jeremiah Johnson likely will also. Patrick O’Connor is overseeing the building of it. I’ll be running it when it’s finished.”
“Good for you.” Though Dr. Jones didn’t know of her history growing up in an inn, he didn’t seem to harbor the least doubt in her ability.
