Ellen burned with embarrassment. “Never mind, it was a foolish question. Forget it.”
“I might have,” Mark admitted slowly. “Or at least invited you to Cottesloe for Christmas.” He speared her with his gaze. “But you bear absolutely no responsibility for our estrangement. It all falls on my shoulders. Your words gave me a convenient excuse not to face up to the harm I caused, that’s all. I only want to be a better man today, especially for you.”
Ellen warmed under his gaze. “Oh.” Her stomach churned with emotions—and not all of them unpleasant.
“We’re running low on bottles,”Mrs. Daugherty announced later that morning as she stood up from behind the counter where she’d been straightening the shelves. Her mouth pursed. “Again.” Medical supplies were not cheap, and neither were the baby items Ellen tried to keep for new mothers of the weaker infants. Ellen’s quarterly allowance paid for all of it since the dispensary barely turned a profit.
Amelia turned from wiping down one of the wooden seats near the door, alarm making her eyes and mouth wide. “Oh, fiddlesticks! I forgot!”
Ellen glanced at her. “What did you forget?”
“Donations.” Amelia rolled her eyes at herself. “There’s a new group of ladies who are bringing over some donations this afternoon. Oh, blast it! And I’m scheduled to do home visits all afternoon.”
Mrs. Daugherty, who usually fielded donations and procurements briskly wiped her hands on her apron. “We haven’t received any donations in a while. Is it the church quilting group you mentioned?”
Amelia nodded. “Mrs. Chisom reached out to me through a mutual acquaintance a few weeks ago. They typically gather funds to send to missionaries, but this time she said they were interested in helping those closer to home. I suggested they gather funds for us as well, because we need more crutches and I’d love to purchase a wheeled chair to lend out.”
“The crutches never seem to return,” Ellen lamented, looking out the window as if she could see where they’d gone. Before Mark had returned and they’d reopened their townhouse, Ellen had given most of her quarterly allowance to the dispensary. But now the cost of running a household took much of her income and they’d have to be creative in finding more donations to fill the gap.
“Well.” Amelia’s mouth twisted. “Mrs. Chisom said she was uncomfortable providing a cheque to us, but that she would drop off several boxes of baby supplies.”
Ellen tilted her head from side to side. “Not…quite as helpful as we’d hope. But like Mrs. Daugherty said, we are low on bottles. Perhaps this quilting group will appreciate our work enough to donate funds the next time.”
“Still, that doesn’t solve my problem for this afternoon.” Amelia chewed on her lower lip, thinking.
Mrs. Daugherty rested her hands on the counter. “I’d normally be here, but since my husband is feeling under the weather I’d planned to go home early.” Especially since there’d be no patients, as Amelia would be rounding.
“I can stay and receive the donation,” Ellen suggested. “Do you know what time? Mark is collecting me midafternoon to go home.”
“Oh, would you?” Amelia sighed with relief.
“Of course.” Ellen smiled. “I’d be happy to.”
Three hours later, just when Ellen was beginning to wonder if Mrs. Chisom had forgotten, a knock came at the door.
Mark, who’d been reading a newspaper in one of the seats, got up, folded the paper, and answered the door.
Ellen had to admit it was nice to have him around sometimes. But only sometimes. He’d arrived nearly three quarters of an hour ago and hadn’t seemed to mind the wait. He’d merely gone back out for a paper and settled in while Ellen arranged and rearranged the medicine bottles on the top shelf behind the counter.
“Oh!” A petite middle-aged woman in a green plaid dress stood, framed in the doorway. Her graying brown hair was set in a stylish bun and mostly covered by a well-used hat. “I’m looking for Dr. Hart?” Her figure was a perfect hourglass, with broad hips and a massive bosom.
Mark gestured for her to step inside as he took a step backward. “Dr. Hart was called away, unfortunately. You know how things can be with physicians,” he said smoothly.
Ellen stepped around the counter to greet the woman. “I’m Mrs. Glenfall. And you must be Mrs. Chisom?”
“Yes.” As she recovered from her surprise, the woman pulled her shoulders back, becoming stiff as a poker. She glanced up at Mark as she folded her hands together at the front of her skirt. “I was unaware the dispensary had a man physician.” Despite her rigid demeanor, her tone conveyed a hint of relief. “It’s always good to see seasoned, experienced doctors working in environments like this.” As if women couldn’t be independent in such complicated matters.
Mark gave her a puzzled smile.
It was Ellen’s turn to stiffen. She pulled her lips back into a small, polite smile. “Dr. Hart is a seasoned, experienced doctor. We do not have a male doctor on staff, and we have no plans to change that.”
Mrs. Chisom’s eyes narrowed as she glanced between Ellen and Mark.
“May I introduce my husband, Mr. Glenfall?” Ellen stepped closer, gesturing to Mark with her left hand. “He stops by from time to time, but the running of the dispensary rests solely with Dr. Hart and her secretary, Mrs. Daugerty.”
“Mrs. Chisom!” a younger, less matronly voice emerged fromoutside, behind the woman. “The driver wants to know if he should unload the crates?”
Mrs. Chisom turned to address a woman roughly Ellen’s age as she entered the doorway, casting shadows into the waiting room. “Tell him yes, Mrs. Finley. I want them brought inside.”