Page 16 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

Blythe could no longer stand the tension. “Mrs Sharpe, I cannot change the past⁠—”

“Then perhaps it is better that we leave it be.” Mrs Sharpe set her hands wide upon the countertop.

Her vision blurred, and she blinked away the tears that threatened. It had been a mistake to come here. She should have listened to Mama.

Collecting the salve, she said, “Thank you. I will not trouble you again.”

She spun on her heel. At least her tears could flow on the walk home without creating further fodder for the gossips.

The door opened, and she stepped back in time to prevent herself rushing headlong into Gabriel’s chest.

Keeping her head down, she mumbled, “Please excuse me.” She darted around the doctor and into the street.

Once the tinkling of the doorbell ceased, Gabriel focused on his mother, who stood behind the counter with her chin in the air.

“What has happened?”

“What do you think happened? Mrs Simmonds came to buy a salve to help ease Jane Dixon’s back pain, and I sold it to her.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing of consequence. We discussed her father’s recovery, and she settled the Silverdale account.”

He held his mother’s gaze.

“If she thinks I’m going to welcome her back after what she did, she can think again.” She rolled her eyes. “Gabriel, while she showed little respect for my knowledge and teaching by walking away, I can’t forgive her for what she did to you.”

Gabriel craned his neck towards the shop window.

Mother stepped around the counter. “Don’t allow her to distract you, my boy. Her father will recover, and she’ll leave again.”

His mother’s words failed to stop him.

“Don’t go after her, Gabriel, she does not deserve—” the door closed, and he jogged down the street.

Blythe’s stiff figure strode on. The feather in her bonnet bobbed with every rapid step.

What are you doing? He should return to the shop, but his limbs wove in and out of the other pedestrians. She cannot be trusted and does not deserve your pity. True, but something inside him could not bear to think that she was upset. He tucked his hand into the crook of her arm, forcing her to halt. “Blythe, please allow me⁠—”

She shook him off and marched down the street.

He drew alongside her. “Blythe, my mother⁠—”

“Do not trouble yourself, Doctor Sharpe.”

“You know she can be a little… blunt.” Gabriel shortened his stride to match hers.

With her chin in the air, she said, “Doctor Sharpe, I thank you for your concern, but I am certain you have more important things with which to attend than a woman’s stinging pride.”

Leave her be, you fool! His lips twitched at her crisp enunciation. “You sound different.”

“Doctor Sharpe, please!” She tugged at the brim of her straw bonnet. “Others are watching.”

“Someone is always watching in Midthorpe, and stop calling me Doctor Sharpe.”

Blythe’s steps faltered. “But you are Doctor Sharpe, and I am Mrs Simmonds, and that is how we should address each other.” She sent him a quick glance around the brim of her bonnet. “And I am not the only one who sounds different.”

Do not be drawn in. Once again, common sense evaporated in her presence. “Years of formal education can improve a man.”