A Cure for Love: Sweet Grove Stories, #4

By Emily Murdoch

When Dr Gerald Anderson arrives at Sweet Grove, it's hard not to be suspicious: after all, he was hounded out of his last practice last year in 1843, and he's only accepted when trainee pastor Aaron Bryant accepts him.

 

The pastor's sister Mariana, on the other hand, is not so sure. Left blind by the incompetence of a previous doctor, she's got no kindness for medical men, and a determination to leave him in the cold.

But the warmth of Sweet Grove and its small community is hard to ignore, even when you want to withdraw from the world, and soon Gerald finds himself thrust into Mariana's path.

 

Can she learn that healing may be needed on the inside as well as on the outside? And will Gerald's past prevent healing that even he can't perform?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Murdoch
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201438159

Emily Murdoch

Emily Murdoch is a writer, a poet and a lover of books. There's never a time she's without a book. Her debut novel, If You Find Me, released in 2013 to global high praise and critical acclaim through St. Martin's Griffin and Orion/Indigo UK. If You Find Me, a Carnegie Medal 2014 longlister and a Waterstones Children's Book Prize 2014 finalist, has earned starred reviews from Booklist, Kirkus, and School Library Journal; is a Young Adult Library Services (YALSA) Best Fiction for Young Adults (BFYA) selection of 2014; was named a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice for June 2013; an Irish Times Editors’ Pick for 2013; an Editor’s Pick for UK’s The Bookseller 2013; a Booklist Youth Editors' Choice for 2013; and a Booklist Top Ten Pick of 2014. If You Find Me has also been nominated and included in numerous state awards/high school master reading lists, amongst those in: SC, TX, KY, RI, PA, WI, OR, DE, CT, SD, NH, OK, VT, and AR. If You Find Me was also a finalist for the Goodreads Choice Awards Best Books of 2013 in the Best Debut Author and Best Young Adult Fiction categories, and was a finalist for the German Children's Literature Prize 2015, along with a finalist for the German Buxeholder Bulle Award 2015. If You Find Me has been translated and published in Canada, the UK, Germany, the Netherlands, Spain, Korea, Taiwan, Italy, Brazil, Hungary, Turkey, and Vietnam, as well as in Braille. When she's not reading or writing, you'll find Emily caring for her horses, dogs and family on a ranch in rural Arizona, where the desert's tranquil beauty and rich wildlife often enter into her poetry and writing. Emily's other passion is saving equines from slaughter. She uses her writing to raise awareness of this inhumane practice, with the goal of ending the slaughter of America's horses and burros through transport to slaughterhouses in Canada and Mexico. She provides sanctuary to abused and slaughter-saved equines who dazzle her daily with their gentle gratitude in exchange for security, consistency, food and love. As Mahatma Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Emily hopes her penchant for writing will do just that. All-in-all, she's a lefty in a right-handed world, writing her way through life and smearing ink wherever she writes.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Mariana did not need to see the budding apple trees moving to feel the breeze upon her face. She sniffed, head tilted upwards, grey eyes moving listlessly. She was in the Top Field, where the Hewes crab apples were growing. Their tangy sweetness was heady.

Careful with that ladder, Elizabeth!

Her brother Jonathan’s voice rang out as he warned his wife. Mariana smiled inwardly, but did not move from the blanket underneath a large trunk. Elizabeth’s clumsiness was well known in the family.

I am fine, Jojo, concern yourself with that rotting branch before it tips over and smacks you on your noggin!

The higher, lilting voice came from Mariana’s left, and she cocked her head slightly as her fingers moved across the knitting needles. Four more stitches and she could begin another row. Her fingers moved soundlessly to count – yes, four more.

. . . if you ask me, Abigail was saying. If you just considered –

Jonathan knows best, was the reply she received from her brother Aaron. He has never guided us wrong in the choice of apple trees, and . . .

The walking siblings moved out of earshot, and Mariana felt their footsteps as they walked towards the Long Field.

The bustle of a working orchard never quite ceased, and this close to harvest, there simply wasn’t time to debate the species they grew. Mariana did smile this time. Her little sister never learned, it seemed. Being a Bryant meant following Jonathan’s way of things: he was the eldest of the five Bryants, and the only one who had never left Sweet Grove, the Texas orchard where they had been born.

More tea, Mariana?

Mariana started. Katherine, you scared me – it is Katherine, is not it?

She could never quite be sure. Katherine and Elizabeth, two sisters who had married two brothers. It was almost crass, thought Mariana dispassionately, but everyone sounded happy enough. Their voices were so similar that they were in the habit of announcing themselves to Mariana when they came close.

Her voice spoke again. My apologies, Mariana, ‘tis Katherine. I have brought out some tea; would you like some?

Mariana did not reply, but held out her hands into the air. A saucer was placed in her left, and soft hands guided her fingers to the handle of the cup.

Thank you, she said bitterly. Gently, slowly, to prevent spilling it, she brought the cup closer, and lifted it, carefully weighing it in her hands so she would not rush and spill it down her gown. Not that it mattered, really. She would not be able to see the damage on the white cotton.

She assumed it was white. Abigail had told her that morning, answering the question with a sadness in her voice she could not hide from her sister. Mariana knew they thought she was strange, asking every morning what color her gown was, as though it mattered. Because it did matter.

Just because she was blind now, that did not mean she had forgotten what colors were.

The apples are almost ripe, Katherine’s voice broke into her thoughts as the scalding tea flowed down her throat. ‘Tis strange to think this is the third year since I came here in 1841, and yet I still love seeing the blossom turn slowly into buds.

Mariana said nothing. It was just a trick of language, she knew. Five years ago, she would have flown into a rage at the inconsiderate way that another had spoken so casually about seeing the wonder of nature around them.

She was older now. Harder, perhaps. Mariana smiled sardonically. She had skipped blossoming altogether, and was now a dry shell of a crab apple, sour and good for nothing.

Oh, no – Aunty Elizabeth, be careful!

A younger voice now, softer, more melodic. Sophia, Phoebe and Aaron’s girl – she was rather afraid of the blind aunt, Mariana had noticed, and had avoided spending time with her.

Mariana felt the blanket move as Katherine rose.

Elizabeth, I told you it would be too heavy – I will be right back, Mariana. Katherine rushed away before her sentence was over, and Mariana was alone once more.

No matter. It was tiring, always being babysat by one of the family. As though she needed their help in all things; you did not spend the majority of your life without the gift of sight without learning ways to get around the place.

No matter, she said aloud, bitterly. I shall see myself home.

The cup of tea and its accompanying saucer were placed slowly to the blanket, on her left. Questing fingers found the knitting in her lap and placed it carefully in her reticule. Gathering her skirts to her to ensure that the cup of tea was not spilt, Mariana rose and dusted herself down.

She reached a hand to the tree to steady herself. She loved this tree; she could remember her mother planting it, and as it was beside the fence, it was a natural stopping place for her as she passed from one field to another.

Mariana took a step forward gingerly, the sun pouring down on her left cheek. She was facing west then, and she needed to turn. Her feet found their footing, and within a minute she was strolling down the Long Field, fingers dancing along the top of the fence.

How many years had she wandered this path? She knew it so well she even knew when to lift her leg slightly to avoid that large tree root. If you could see her now, Mariana thought darkly, you may even think I was pretending to be blind.

A sparrow danced above her, calling out to the sunshine in what sounded like unadulterated joy. It was free to go where it wanted, anywhere in the world – not like her, trapped to wander up and down the same well-worn paths, like a train unable to escape its rails.

Mariana shook her head slightly. That sort of thinking brings joy to no one, she berated herself silently, not even you. Anyway, she needed to concentrate again. The Lower Field had a stile, and a rusting nail on one side. If she was going to get over it without tearing her gown and leaving a streak of rust across the petticoats, she would need to pay attention.

The feel of the wooden slats grounded her. Warmed by the sun, the two sides were completely different.

The Lower Field had a path through the middle, and then she was only two houses over from home. What used to be a small gathering of two houses and a barn was now a bustling street, with six homes, a small school, and a new building Jonathan and Thomas had discussed between them.

Whatever it was for, Mariana could not care. She wanted to be home, out of the heat of this August sun, and into somewhere cool. All she had to do was step across the street and go two houses down.

It was an easy wander. She had never failed to complete it before. Indeed, she had carried out the small journey every day for years, and she had never had any trouble.

But today was different. Today, she was halfway across, stepping lightly over the hole Thomas had accidently driven into the compacted earth with a rake two days previously, when something large, heavy, and moving at speed whammed into her.

---

Doctor Gerald Anderson was not having a good day, and walking into a young woman and toppling her to the ground had not improved things.

Cannot you see where you are going! he burst out, irritation and heat overwhelming him.

The woman was sprawled on the dusty ground, and he saw with a groan that her cream gown was covered in dirt. The woman had blonde hair now loose from its pins, and it covered her face. She was also spluttering with rage.

See where I am going – see where I am going! It was almost a shriek, rather than a shout. Good sir, do you have any idea where you are? I cannot say for sure, but I do not think you belong here, and crashing into young women in the middle of the street is not a quality that we look for here in Sweet Grove!

If you had just paid attention to where you were going, this could have been avoided, replied Gerald tersely, offering his hand to help her up.

She did not take it. And surely the same prescriptive advice could be applied to you – and with better merit!

"I do not have time to argue the why and wherefore