Chapter 6

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Following the medical lecture, Andrew had gone home with his father to change for a dinner party being held at the home of one of Ruth's father's clients. He'd gone to the Carrington home to escort Ruth - lovely as always - and he'd complimented her appearance. They'd made their entrance with her parents, been made welcome, had sat to supper. About twenty people were in attendance, and the discussion was the usual mix of current events and politics, everything from the most recent concert at the Music Hall to the upcoming Independence Day festivities to President Grant's recent signing of the Amnesty Act and his chances for re-election.

Andrew found it difficult this evening to follow the conversation. The reappearance of Colleen Cooper, spending time with her again, had sparked thoughts and feelings that he was having difficulty pushing aside. He remembered the life he had led last summer, the freedom he had felt out west. For the first time in his twenty-five years, he hadn't had anyone to answer to but himself. There had been patient appointments, certainly, but there always seemed to be an hour or two during the day when he could do whatever he wanted. He could take a walk, enjoying the peaceful scenery of the Rocky Mountains, or read the Gazette or a medical journal in the café, or chat with townsfolk outside the confines of the clinic and get to know the locals more as people and not merely patients.

And it wasn't just freedom. She had been there most days, too. Cleaning instruments, restocking supplies, assisting with surgeries. Thinking of things before he even thought of them, from her long experience working with Dr. Quinn. And yet Colleen had been more than just a nurse. Quite simply, she had become the highlight of his days. They had become good friends, chatting about her life in Colorado Springs, and he, in turn, sharing his stories and knowledge about medical school. She was so inquisitive, so eager to learn, with a passion for medicine that matched his own. Yet remarkably, she wasn't all intellect - she was accomplished in the domestic arts, too, as he had dined in the Sully home on a couple of occasions. The time Colleen had learned from his mother's telegram that Andrew would be spending his birthday away from home, she had even insisted he join the family for supper that evening, rushing home to bake him a cake.

And then there had been the riding lessons… Colleen had never given up on him, even when he had wanted to give up himself, numerous times. She was so determined, yet patient, and kind, possessing a generous spirit, deep brown eyes, sun-kissed freckles and full, rosy lips…

Andrew silently swore. Where the hell had that thought come from? It was completely inappropriate.

"Andrew?" Ruth's inquiring voice brought him back to reality.

"What? Oh, sorry." The dinner had finished, and everyone was standing to go into the other room for the evening's entertainment. Sometimes it was listening to one of the guests playing the piano (with or without accompanying vocals), sometimes charades. This evening, the furniture had been pushed to the sides of the room for dancing.

Andrew hastily stood to pull the chair out for Ruth.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. He also needed to clear his head with something dry and academic. "Oh, uh, just thinking of today's lecture on cardiac arrhythmias." Not surprisingly, that produced a blank look on her face. "Irregular heartbeats."

Ruth smiled politely. "The way my heart beats every time I'm near you."

Although she would never understand medicine, she was making an effort, which he appreciated. "I hope you're not implying I'm dangerous to your health," he joked, gently correcting her.

"Not at all. You're very good for my health, Dr. Cook. You give me the sunniest of dispositions."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." A string trio had started up a tune. "Dancing is also very good for your health. May I have this dance?"

"I'd love to."

He noticed Ruth's parents off to the side, chatting with another older couple, pointing out their daughter and her beau, probably explaining for the umpteenth time how the two of them had met. The Carringtons and the Cooks had introduced the pair after Andrew's return from Colorado Springs, thinking it a good match. Ruth had been injured as a child, burning her hand on the stove. Not all men would overlook such an injury, a flaw in their companion. But a doctor would understand the scar. And they had been right. Andrew had been sympathetic, and, after their first introduction, where they had gotten along, Andrew had agreed to court the young lady. She was an amiable companion, easy on the eyes, with raven hair swept up in a twist. She was poised, polished, proficient in music, conversant in French and an accomplished rider thanks to her father's interest in horses. She would someday be the perfect hostess, the perfect wife and mother.

There was nothing wrong with her.

"Did you enjoy the lecture?" Ruth asked, making conversation.

"Yes, it was interesting," he replied, not elaborating as she would have no idea what he was talking about. But social interactions were easy enough for anyone to understand - and something Ruth was most accomplished at navigating - so he ventured down that avenue. "And you'll never guess who I sat next to."

"If I'll never guess, then you'll need to tell me."

"A trio of woman doctors."

"Woman doctors?"

"Yes. Exiled to the back row simply because they are women." Andrew shook his head in dismay at the memory. "I suppose it's something that they're at least allowed to attend. I wonder, if I were to sit with them on a regular basis, if it might get the practice changed. They couldn't very well call it the women's section if a man is sitting there, could they?"

"I suppose not." Ruth paused, then asked, "Why were you sitting with them? In the back row."

"The usher insisted Colleen sit in the back. I couldn't just abandon her, so I sat with her."

"Colleen?"

"Yes, Colleen. Remember, I told you she's visiting Boston. I asked her to join me today."

Ruth startled. "You took a young girl to a medical lecture?"

"She's not that young…" The picture of Colleen today came readily to his mind, the sophisticated young lady. "I believe she'll be seven- no, eighteen in a few months."

"Andrew… you can't go around escorting a seventeen-year-old."

"Why not?"

"People will talk!"

Andrew was puzzled. "What is there to talk about? We're friends. Friends get together all the time."

"But people won't see it that way. Especially not if you're courting me. They'll think you're… being disloyal to me."

He frowned. "Is that how you see it? That by taking Colleen to the lecture I was disloyal to you?"

"Well, see it from my point of view. She's nearly eighteen. She's no longer a girl, she's a young lady. A young lady that you address by her given name."

Andrew sighed in exasperation. "Ruth, look, Colleen Cook and I are just friends who share an interest in medicine."

Ruth's eyes went wide with alarm. "What did you say?"

Andrew failed to see what the problem was but repeated himself. "Colleen and I are just friends who-"

"No," she interrupted. "You called her Colleen Cook."

"Did I?" Andrew was embarrassed by his gaffe. "Slip of the tongue. 'Cook' and 'Cooper' are similar."

She remained silent.

"Ruth, really, it's an innocent mistake. Next time I can invite you to the lecture."

The joke fell flat.

"I think you shouldn't see Miss Cooper anymore. Not if you're serious about me."

Andrew was stunned she was making this demand of him. Not the literal demand itself - which was a moot point as he didn't have any plans to see Colleen again. It was the fact that she was doubting him, distrusting his intentions. He hadn't shown interest in anyone else since they were introduced. He had been faithfully at her side through parties, concerts and plays. They saw each other at least once a week, and lately twice. That was serious, wasn't it?

Though, it was true, they hadn't kissed yet. He regularly kissed her gloved hand, of course, when they parted, but never a proper kiss. He expected that to happen when they became engaged, after a year or so of courting, and it hadn't been a full year yet. There'd be a fall engagement, a spring wedding. That was how things were supposed to be done, right? And somewhere along the way, love would take root. For some it happened sooner, and others later. Not having had much experience with the fairer sex, Andrew took himself to be one of those late bloomers.

Perhaps love needed a nudge.

Suddenly, Andrew released his dance hold and guided Ruth away from the others. "Come with me."

"Andrew?"

He didn't answer her but continued to guide her towards a set of patio doors.

"Andrew, what are you doing?"

"This." Having found a private spot behind a planter, he leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips. The kiss was warm, pleasant...

"Andrew…" said Ruth in wonder as he ended the kiss, and she opened her eyes. The sight that greeted her wasn't what she expected, however.

There was no smile on his lips or light in his eyes. His hands weren't reaching inside a pocket for a small box. Instead, he was looking away from her, unable to meet her gaze.

And she knew.

They both did.

For a moment there was only the music and voices coming from the party.

"I could still make you happy, Andrew. I know I could," she pleaded in a quiet voice.

He looked at her then. "I have no doubt you would make an excellent wife, Ruth. But…" he swallowed, knowing that what he was about to say would change things forever, "I don't believe I would truly be happy."

It was her turn to look away. Andrew offered up his handkerchief for her to dab her eyes.

"I think you should take me home," she said.

Wordlessly, he agreed. Andrew went inside to inform her parents.

"Excuse me, Mr. Carrington, I hate to intrude. Ruth, uh, isn't feeling well. I'll be taking her home."

"Nothing serious?" Mrs. Carrington asked, concerned.

"No, nothing you need to worry about. Please, stay and enjoy the party. I'll send the carriage back for you."

"Of course, Andrew," Mr. Carrington said. "We understand you'd like to be alone."

The implication was clear, but to avoid a scene Andrew didn't bother to correct the man. He'd find out the truth later, in private.

With apologies to their host, Andrew and Ruth left the party. Silence reigned in the carriage. Andrew was feeling a jumble of emotions, but primarily sadness, regret, and anger. None of this was fair, to either of them.

None of it was Ruth's fault. She would have been perfectly happy and content being his wife, being a mother to his children. It's what she had been raised to do, to have no expectations other than finding a suitable husband. And now, she would have to start that process over with someone else.

Nor was it his fault. Well, all right, perhaps partly it was his fault. For trying to be something that he was not – the right husband for Ruth. He supposed he would have been content. And he might even have been happy to a certain degree. Certainly, the joy of children would have made him happy. But coming home to Ruth each night, not being able to share his workday with her, would have been constraining. Self-limiting. Frustrating. He saw that now. He saw that she might be pleasing for him in bed, but not in his heart.

He had never given much thought to his heart before. What it wanted. Instead, he had always done what was expected of him. Study hard, apply himself. And the instant he had chosen medicine as a career – as if there had been any doubt in the matter - his course was set. He would carry on the family business by working for his Uncle Benjamin. He would get married to a suitable partner, start a family.

It was all pre-determined, the road he was to follow.

By abandoning the course set out for him he was letting Ruth down. He was letting her parents down, and his parents down, and probably all of Boston society by not doing what he was supposed to do.

But he couldn't go along with it anymore. His heart wasn't in it. He hadn't been consciously aware of it before tonight, but his heart was somewhere else.

With someone else.

At Ruth's home, Andrew dutifully stepped out to assist her. Her eyes were red, but she was no longer crying.

"I'm sorry, Ruth. I never intended to lead you on. I thought there was something between us. I thought we were… compatible."

"No. Don't be sorry. Better to know now than later." Andrew nodded in agreement. She turned to go but hesitated. "You should let her know before she finds someone else, before she makes the same mistake you did."

Ruth ran the rest of the way to the front door.

Andrew waited until she was safely inside, then heaved a sigh of guilt and relief. He was ashamed for what he'd done to Ruth. She had had high hopes for their future, and tonight he had crushed them. And yet he also felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders. The weight of expectations. Of marrying a traditional wife - one who would dedicate her life to staying by his side, tending to hearth and home without any ambition of her own. One who would have a pleasant supper ready and the children all around.

He still wanted a family. But did it have to come at the cost of his happiness? Where was it written that a wife couldn't have needs and dreams of her own?

And why must his future be carved in stone? Who said his future couldn't be out on the frontier with a petite, auburn-haired college student who was just as comfortable suturing a laceration as she was sewing a dress?

Andrew knew the answer to that last.

His father.

Reluctantly, Andrew stepped into the carriage for the ride home, not looking forward to what the rest of this evening would bring.

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