Chapter 5

For Melinda Watson, the challenge of each day that went by in Fetching was mostly that of how to keep busy when there was no medical problem which needed her attention. When she and Thomas had first arrived in the small community, they had spent many hours visiting each family both in the town and in the surrounding countryside, trying to convince them that regular examinations would help them be more healthy. Despite their best efforts, the townspeople still only called for the doctor when their home remedies quit working... or when the situation was too dire to even try to handle without help.

There was little for Melinda to do around the house. Shamus did anything necessary to keep the outside of the house and its grounds in the best of shape, and several times a week, his wife Molly would come over and clean the house from top to bottom. It had also become rather a habit for Molly to cook meals for the three of them in Melinda's kitchen; Molly loved using the nearly new stove that was installed when the house was built, and always reminded Melinda that "it's just as easy to cook for three as it is for two." Moreover, because their patients rarely had any actual money with which to pay for medical services, food was most often the currency with which any outstanding debts were settled, and there always seemed to be more than enough fresh victuals for the three of them. Though Melinda had at first been bothered by how much Shamus and Molly did for her without being paid, she eventually had come to realize that the two of them had in some way adopted her, and she in turn missed them when they weren't in the house.

A knock at the door of her bedroom pulled Melinda from her sleep. It took her a moment to gather her wits, and another to gather the bedcovers around her to insure that nothing but her head was visible to whomever came through the door. Prepared, she called out, "Come in."

The door swung open and, as Melinda expected, Molly O'Connor stepped into the room carrying a white teacup atop a saucer. "G'mornin', missus," Molly shouted out cheerfully, bustling into the room. "Shamus tol' me you'd been doctorin' inta the night, so I figured it might be a right good mornin' to come round and see that you eat a proper meal for breakfast." The plump woman had made her way around the corner of the bed, and stood over Melinda, smiling down at her as she sat the still-steaming cup down on night stand. "They'll be eggs and sausages this morning, and fresh bread and jam. Shamus already et his fill, and is off t'do somethin' in the town, and'll be back later. For now, 'ere's a fresh cuppa' t'get ya up, and I'll put the sausages in when I get back to the kitchen." Without letting Melinda get in a word, the red-haired woman spun around and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Melinda shook her head, smiling. Before she had really known Molly and Shamus, she had known about them - the tall, strong Irishman and the short, plump Fetching native kept tongues wagging about the town because of their enthusiastic embrace of all of life's passionate pursuits. If Shamus was the immovable object of legend, then Molly was the irresistible force - always moving, always smiling, always having something to say about any subject, especially if it involved other people. Shamus was instantly and irrevocably smitten, and, from the tales the townspeople told, he'd pursued Molly with a single-minded purpose from the day they first met. However, Molly was not as similarly inclined, as the story went, and she constantly turned down Shamus' advances while being courted by other men. In the heat of his infatuation, Shamus could not control his temper, and many a suitor of Molly Hallaran found himself in the unenviable position of being confronted and threatened with physical harm after spending just a bit of time with Molly.

Since the pool of eligible men in Fetching was rather small, soon Molly found herself without any suitors at all, except for the tall Irishman whom she still refused at every turn. The sudden lack of courtship puzzled Molly, and she sought out her former suitors to try to find out why they no longer found her interesting, but they shunned her, giving feeble excuses while hurrying from her presence as quickly as they could get away. They'd all been warned by Shamus that, if he caught them with Molly in any but the most innocent circumstance, or if they told her of his interference with her romantic pursuits, his wrath would be swift and severe... and, given Shamus' reputation as a brawler, none of Molly's former suitors wished to find out the exact form with which that threat would be realized against them. Still, as was her way, Molly's determination to find out why she went uncourted was unflagging. She doggedly pursued her former admirers one after the other, insistently questioning them on why they no longer favored her, to the point where some actually would have preferred Shamus' threatened beating to spending even a few moments in Molly's presence. Then one day, upon cornering one of the men for yet another of her relentless interrogations, the truth spilled out like water through a broken dam. "I don't care if he beats me bloody," shouted an enraged Jim Bonner, "but I'd sooner go ten rounds with that damn Irishman than keep quiet and have to put up with your questions!" Molly listened to Jim rant until he finally had nothing left but curses, and then turned on her heel and began walking back toward the center of the town.

Molly's mind was awhirl with thoughts; foremost among them was where she could get a sharp knife, and whether Shamus O'Connor would stand still long enough for her to turn him from stallion to gelding. However, in a way, she was also flattered; she'd turned down Shamus' every advance not because she found him unattractive or uncouth, but simply because she didn't trust him not to pick up and leave when the first urge struck him. She wanted a settled man, someone who would put down his roots in Fetching and never leave, and in her mind, that man was not Shamus O'Connor.