by Linda Ford
Alex stumbled sleepy-eyed to the room. “She sick?”
“Yes. Get Father.”
He stared at her still half-asleep.
“Hurry.”
He suddenly came to life and ran down the hall. A few minutes later Father rushed in. “I can hear her breathing from my bedroom.”
She pressed her lips together and struggled to control the sobs tearing at her throat.
Father crossed the room and took her in his arms. “Father in heaven, our Almighty Savior and the Great Physician, please touch Dorrie’s body and free her lungs.”
Anna shuddered. “I’m afraid.”
Father hugged her. “What do you need me to do?”
“Get Colby. He needs to be here.”
“I’ll go right away.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Have faith.” Then he hurried out.
She heard the front door close after him. Colby would soon be here. She had never needed him more or wanted him more desperately.
“Alex, get me a bucket of warm water.” All night she had alternately sponged Dorrie to reduce the fever and steamed her to ease her breathing.
Alex hurried to do her bidding. He hovered at Dorrie’s bedside, his eyes wide, his fear palpable. “She looks so sick. I’m scared.”
“Me, too.” But her efforts were focused on conquering the fever.
A few minutes later she heard the door open and close. She turned to face Colby, ready to throw herself into his arms. Ready to accept his help and support in fighting for Dorrie’s life.
Father stood there. Alone.
“Where’s Colby?” Something must have detained him.
Father’s expression filled with regret and sorrow. “He’s gone.”
“How long will he be?”
“Anna, he’s gone. Left. I managed to waken Tobias but he was there alone. He said Colby rode out last night.”
Gone. Just like always. And she had trusted him again. Moreover, she and Dorrie needed him. She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from crying. With great effort she tossed aside her pain and disappointment and turned back to Dorrie. They would manage without him.
She pushed aside the wail that demanded how. How would she survive? Especially if something happened to Dorrie?
She had no one but herself to blame for believing him.
For a moment she fought for control. She’d done this before. She could do it again.
“I’m sorry,” Father said.
“What time is it?”
“Five.”
“Go wake the doctor and tell him he’s needed.”
The doctor came, said to keep on with what she was doing, and left again, promising to stop in later in the day.
Anna wondered how much longer Dorrie could survive her struggle. Nothing but fighting for Dorrie’s life mattered.
She would not think of the pain of Colby leaving again.
The hours slipped by marked by trips to get fresh water, to try and dribble a few drops into Dorrie’s parched mouth, to steam her until Anna felt like a pile of runny mashed potatoes.
She was vaguely aware of others coming and going, bringing her water or towels or a drink for herself and Dorrie. She knew the doctor stopped in again and then night fell and she was alone.
But she would not think.
Not of Colby leaving nor of the possibility of losing Dorrie.
“You have to get better, sweetie,” she urged and redoubled her efforts to fight the fever, get Dorrie’s lungs open.
Morning came unnoticed until Alex and Father slipped into the room, their faces revealing a worry that matched her own.
Again the doctor came by. He shook his head. “If she doesn’t turn around soon…”
Anna gave him a look of disdain. “She will.” She had to.
Father returned some time later. “Miss Weaver is here.”
Grace stepped into the room. “I’m here to help. Now you go rest.”
“I couldn’t. What if…?”
Grace put her arm around Anna. “You must take care of yourself or who will take care of Dorrie when she’s better?”
Anna could have hugged her for saying that and allowed herself to be drawn away. “You’ll waken me if…”
“Trust me. I will get you at any change.”
So weary she could barely take off her shoes, Anna fell to her bed. Colby had said the same words. Trust me. Oh, Colby, where are you? Why must you leave me every time I need you desperately?
“Anna, wake up. Hurry.” Father shook her.
“Dorrie?” Was it bad news?
She bolted from her bed and almost fell to the floor as her knees turned to pudding. Clinging to Father’s arm she hurried to Dorrie’s room.
Dorrie lay on the narrow cot in the corner of the room so still Anna couldn’t detect any sign of breathing.
Grace sat on a chair at her side, her look so full of sorrow that Anna cried out a protest. Every organ in her body spasmed with incredible pain.
Then Dorrie sucked in a raspy breath, her chest drawing in cruelly as she fought to get air into her lungs.
Anna fell to her knees beside the cot and cradled her arms around Dorrie’s hot little body.
Grace smoothed her hand over Anna’s back. “She’s fighting very hard.”
“She can’t die. She can’t. I won’t let her. God can’t take her from me.” She stopped the words that poured forth.
Father patted her back. “Anna, don’t blame God for our losses.”
“Who can I blame?”
“Death is just part of life.”
She rolled her head back and forth in denial. “Not untimely death.”
Grace pressed a hand to Anna’s head. “Nothing can separate us from God’s love. In the dark times we learn to trust Him most and find His comfort sweetest.”
Father continued to pat her back. “God loves us. We just need to trust Him.”
Anna buried her face in the quilt covering the cot and clamped her lips together. Father would be shocked at the words flooding her mind. But what kind of loving God took away those she cared about? He could have stopped Colby from leaving. He could have prevented Rose and Timmy from dying. And He could, if He chose, heal Dorrie. Her fists curled into the fabric at Dorrie’s side and she hung on. She would not let this child go. God could not have her. Her teeth clenched so hard it sent a pain straight to the top of her head but she would not let go. Never.
Dorrie shuddered.
Anna’s throat clogged with a rush of emotion. She lifted her head. Tears stung the back of her eyes but she would not let them escape.
Dorrie lay quiet and still. Peaceful even. Was she gone? Hot floodwaters of grief swept through her, grabbing at her heart with vicious fingers, sucking at her limbs as she fought the undercurrent threatening to drown her. She wouldn’t fight anymore. She’d simply let the waters wash her away.
Dorrie coughed.
Anna jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. Was it the last dying response? She placed her hand on Dorrie’s chest. My baby. My baby. How can I go on without your sweet presence? She opened her mouth and closed it again and again as if she could pump out her overwhelming sorrow.
The little chest beneath her palm rose and fell.
She stared at her hand. Had she imagined it? No. It rose and fell again. “She’s breathing.” Her words were barely a whisper. “She’s breathing.” Anna jumped to her feet, laughing and crying. “She’s breathing.”
She hugged Father. “She’s breathing.”
Father’s face was wet with tears. “Praise God. Praise God.”
Anna turned to Grace. “She’s breathing. She’s alive.”
Grace, her eyes glittering with tears, hugged Anna. “God has blessed your faith.”
Her faith? She’d had none. Only doubts and anger. Why had she not trusted God? Shame crackled at the edge of her joy.
The doctor came, proclaimed it a wonder that Dorrie had turned a corner toward getting well.
Dorrie was alive. Her breathing rattled b
ut at last filled her lungs.
She lived. Anna’s joy knew no end even though she didn’t deserve it. When she should have trusted, she doubted. But thanks to God, He hadn’t punished her lack of faith.
Dorrie was weak and listless. Anna had her hands full caring for her in the following days and welcomed Grace’s help running the home.
She gratefully cared for Dorrie, finding unlimited patience with her fussiness.
But in the pit of her stomach lay a boulder of guilt. Hadn’t she learned to trust God at a young age? Wasn’t it trust that bore her through those dark days of sorrow when Rose and Timmy died?
Who was she that she could forget God’s faithfulness when she needed it most?
Grace spent a few hours each day helping with meals. She had left for the day with supper in the oven saying she needed to help her sister.
Anna sat at the table holding Dorrie, tenderly spooning warm porridge into her.
The door burst open without so much as a knock and Colby stood with the light behind him.
Anna blinked. “What are you doing here? How long are you around for this time?” She felt no welcome. No gladness. Only a long dark ache. Why did he keep riding in and out of her life? How much more could she take?
“I came as soon as I heard. As soon as I got back.”
Anna returned her attention to Dorrie, ignoring Colby. They’d said it all before. Nothing had changed. Nothing had been resolved.
Colby crossed the room in two strides and knelt at her side. “Oh, Dorrie, my poor little girl.” His voice thickened as he stroked her face.
“Da-da,” Dorrie croaked and gave a crooked smile.
He lifted his head to look at Anna. “Was it very hard?”
She didn’t answer, only gave him a disinterested shrug.
“I wish I had been here.”
“Seems you have the habit of leaving just when things get tough.”
Cradling Dorrie’s hands in his, Colby sat back on his heels. “You read the telegram. You know where I went.”
She snorted. “I saw no telegram.”
“Tobias was supposed to give it to you.” He watched her face and saw her obvious denial then sighed. “I should have known better than to expect him to remember. Anna, I didn’t leave.”
She turned away, resumed feeding Dorrie.
“Listen to me. Remember that letter I wrote to my friend Hugh?”
He waited but she gave no indication whether or not she did. But of course she did.
“I got a telegram from the sheriff telling me Hugh had been injured and I was to come immediately if I wanted to see him before he died.”
A little spark of sympathy flickered in the depths of her solitude. “I’m sorry.”
Colby grinned. “He didn’t die. I made sure of that. Brought him back with me. He’s recuperating in one of the hotel rooms right now.”
She nodded, continued feeding Dorrie.
“Don’t you understand, Anna? I didn’t leave. I only went to help a friend.”
“I see.” But nothing inside her cared. She couldn’t take any more leaving or worrying about him leaving.
When he asked, she let him hold Dorrie and feed her. She let him stay to tuck her into bed. She let him kneel at her crib and pray.
But she could not let him into her heart.
Colby knelt in the church and poured out his heart to God. He’d been back several days. He rejoiced to see Dorrie daily growing stronger. But Anna had shut herself up inside solid fort walls and would not let him near. Not that he could blame her. She had every reason to doubt him.
Just as he doubted himself.
He had failed so many times. He’d failed to protect his mother. He’d failed to protect Nora. He’d failed his friends. He’d failed Anna over and over.
Getting to Hugh and helping was the one time he’d managed to make a step toward undoing the damage he’d done.
But would he ever be able to undo the harm he’d done with Anna? Did he have anything to offer her or would he, when push came to shove, fail her in a big way?
Part of him considered leaving now, before she could be more greatly disappointed in him.
But he was through running from his fears and failures. With God’s help.
A little later he stepped into the glaring sunlight, mounted his horse and rode toward the hotel to check on Hugh who grew stronger each day. He planned to be back at the Caldwell house when Dorrie woke from her nap so he could feed her and hold her. To think this precious child had almost died. It filled his heart with praise that God had chosen to spare her.
When he arrived at the house, Grace was there. “Now here’s Colby,” she said to Anna. “Let him take you for a walk.” She turned to Colby. “She needs to get outside. Get some fresh air before she gets sick, too.”
Here was the chance Colby had prayed for. “Can’t have you getting sick. Who would look after everyone?” He reached for her hand, tucked it around his elbow and was out the door before she could protest.
She jerked free. “I don’t want to go for a walk.”
“Do it for Dorrie.” She sure could be stubborn.
“Fine.” Anna faced forward and marched down the street as if ordered to the gallows.
Colby kept pace. “Look, Anna. I know you’re angry with me. I know you’ve been through a lot with Dorrie. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been but—”
“Please let me enjoy the fresh air.”
Colby sighed. She was so distant and unreachable. “Don’t you know it hurts me to know I wasn’t here when you and Dorrie needed me? I would never have gone after Hugh if I’d known.”
She nodded briskly without turning her attention from the path before her. “Good to know.”
“I never thought to see you so bitter.”
That made her stop and face him, her eyes flaring with an emotion that he could not identify. “I am not bitter.”
“Sure could fool me.”
“I’m—” She shook her head. “I’m not bitter.”
Maybe if she met Hugh she would understand. Hugh had said he might venture out into the sunshine. He directed their steps toward the hotel and smiled when he saw Hugh tipped back in one of the chairs on the boardwalk in front of the hotel.
“There’s my friend. Let’s say hello.” She made no protest as they crossed the distance between them. He made the introductions.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Hugh said. “Did this here man tell you how he saved my life?”
Chapter Fifteen
Anna nodded. Hugh was clean-shaven, wore clean clothes, had his foot swathed in heavy bandages, and sported bruises and cuts on his face and hands. “Looks like you might have lost a war.”
Hugh chuckled. “Got run over by a loaded wagon. Would have died if Colby hadn’t shown up and forced me to get better.” He shifted his amused glance to Colby. “Maybe forcing that old quack of a doctor to show a little mercy helped, too.”
“I owed you.”
Hugh and Colby stared at each other, sharing some secret.
“If you ever owed me the debt is paid.”
Anna shifted her gaze from one to the other and when neither seemed about to share any details, she decided to press for more. “What’s this debt thing?”
Colby shook his head and shot Hugh a look rife with warning but Hugh ignored him. “I saved his hide a time or two. One time especially that he’s referring to—”
“Anna, let’s get back. I want to feed Dorrie.”
Anna shook off his hand. “In a minute.” Hugh knew something and she wanted to find out what. Perhaps it would explain what had sent Colby running again.
“He kind of went downhill after Nora died.”
Anna rolled her eyes at the understatement and Hugh chuckled.
“Yeah, you’re right. He fell into a hole. A deep hole.”
Colby made a dissenting noise and tried to turn Anna toward home.
She shied away. “So what happened?”
She nodded, assuming there was more.
“One night he decided it was the doctor’s fault Nora died and he headed out to kill the man. I think he would have if I hadn’t stopped him.”
Anna gasped and stared at Colby. “Is that true?” She couldn’t imagine him a murderer. “You would have hung.”
“I was drunk. As soon as I sobered up, I left.”
That explained a lot.
“Now can we go?” He waved an arm down the street and gave her an expectant look that said it was time.
She fell in beside him, her mind flooded with questions. “Why did you blame the doctor? He did the best he could.” She remembered how she felt when Dorrie was so sick. “Never mind. I know how frustrated I was that he could do nothing when Dorrie almost died.”
“I didn’t really blame him.” He sounded weary—soul weary.
Her heart went out to him. He’d lost his wife. He’d been left with an infant daughter to care for. And he had no one. At least she had her father and brother when Rose died. And later, she’d baby Dorrie to tend to. She’d been so busy with the baby she had little time for Colby. Nor patience with his drinking.
Colby went on in low tones. “It was just easier to blame him then blame myself.”
“Why would you blame anyone?” Birthing babies was difficult work. Women often died doing it.
“’Cause it was my job to make sure she was safe. And I didn’t.”
He confused her. “How can you be responsible for things out of your control? I don’t understand.”
He pushed out a noisy gust of air. “Guess it’s a man thing.”
She considered the idea. True, men and women had different roles. Women typically cared for the home and children. Men…she’d never considered their role and she did so now. And, yes, perhaps they were expected to provide and protect. So when things went wrong, things out of their control, did they feel they had failed? It was a new thought. “I don’t think anyone has the right to blame a man if he encounters things beyond his control. Even things that threaten his family.”
“Seems there is always something a person could do.”
“Like what?”
“Something.”