Never a Bride

by Denise Hunter

  He leaped to the ground before his horse reached a full stop. Barbed wire clawed at his skin as he scrambled over the fence. But he felt no pain.

  Jane lay in a heap facedown, her body as lifeless as a sack of grain. When he reached her, he gently rolled her over.

  The bodice of her dress was ripped. Blood trickled down her face from a gash that ran from her cheek to her shoulder. Her brown dress was stained red. Oh, God, tell me I didn’t shoot her! He didn’t see any bullet holes, but couldn’t take the time to examine her thoroughly. His pulse thudded in his ears, deafening him to the world.

  He scooped her up in his arms and somehow got across the fence. Elizabeth rode up as he was setting Jane atop his horse.

  “Is she okay?” she screamed, her eyes wild with fear.

  “I don’t know! She’s bleeding! I’m taking her to Doc Hathaway’s!”

  “I’m coming, too!”

  “No! Find Brownie and take her back to the stable!”

  There was no time for more words. Luke mounted behind Jane’s limp body and nudged Maizy into a full run. He cradled her to his chest with one arm, his hand resting on the damp bodice of her dress.

  The ride was interminable. He prayed aloud in fragmented sentences. Not once did Jane stir. An ugly knot had formed on her forehead, as had bruises of every shape and color. The gash across her face continued to seep blood.

  Luke snapped the reins hard. “Yah! Yah!” he encouraged the winded horse.

  At last, he reached town and spurred his mount down the dusty road. Be there, Doc! he pleaded.

  He reined in when he reached the building that housed the doctor’s office. “Doc!” he called, sliding off the horse and easing Jane into his arms.

  Doc Hathaway appeared at the door. “What happened?” he asked as he held the door open for Luke.

  “I fired my rifle. . . . I don’t know if I shot her. . . . It spooked her horse. . . .”

  “Lay her on the table in there!” He gestured to the small room separated from the office by a gray curtain, then scurried to the basin and washed his hands.

  Luke laid his precious load on the table. She moaned and turned her head, but her eyes remained closed. “It’s all right, Jane,” he whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”

  The doctor rushed into the room. “Wait out there, Luke,” he said as he placed a stethoscope on her chest.

  Everything in him told him to stay, but he backed away from the table and slipped behind the curtain. He paced the tiny office, his long stride making short work of the space. His breath poured out of his lungs, and he fought the tears that welled up in his eyes. If I shot her, I’ll never forgive myself! How could I have been so stupid? Even a tenderfoot knows the difference between a deer and a horse!

  Luke stopped short in the edge of the worn, oval carpet. What am I doing?

  Immediately, he dropped to his knees, assuming the position that always humbled him before the Lord. With his face buried in his hands, he took a moment to collect his thoughts and still the wild thumping in his chest. Then he began to pray.

  Oh, Father in heaven, please help Jane to be all right! Don’t let her suffer for my mistake! I know You care about her even more than I do, and You must know what a special lady she is. Please touch her body with Your healing hands.

  Luke continued to share his heart with God. He didn’t know how long he’d been on his knees when he heard the whisper of the curtain opening.

  He shot to his feet. “Is she going to be all right?”

  Doc Hathaway drew the curtain closed and came to stand next to Luke. “Well, she didn’t take a gunshot wound, so that much is good news.”

  Luke exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

  “However,” the doctor continued, “she has sustained two injuries that have me concerned. There’s a nasty bump on her head, from a fall off the horse, I’m assuming?”

  Luke nodded his head, and the doctor continued. “It’s hard to say how serious that injury is. She does have a concussion, but we won’t know the extent of the damage, if any, until she comes around. Did she regain consciousness at all on your way here?”

  “No, no, I don’t think so. What about the other injury?” Luke’s head throbbed at his temples, and he blinked to force himself to concentrate.

  “There’s a cut that runs from the side of her face down to her shoulder. It was fairly deep, and she’s lost a lot of blood. I sutured it, but the loss of blood concerns me.”

  Luke drew a shaky breath and forced the words. “She’ll make it, won’t she?”

  The doctor drew in a deep breath, puffing his chest out, then squinted his bespectacled eyes. “I think she will, though, as I said, we’ll have a better idea of how she is after she regains consciousness.”

  “Her family. I need to let them know. . . .”

  ❧

  Jane felt the pain before she even opened her eyes. Her head throbbed as it never had before, and there was a deep ache in her face and shoulder. What is wrong with me? She lifted her trembling hand to touch the source, but it fell heavily on the bed before reaching its destination.

  ❧

  She opened her eyelids, but the darkness didn’t retreat. She turned her head slowly on the pillow and was rewarded with a stab of pain. She groaned. Slowly the room came into focus, and she saw it was nighttime beyond the little window to her right. Indistinct shapes of furniture lined the walls of the unfamiliar room. Where am I? She closed her eyes against the savage pain in her head. Suddenly, her whereabouts didn’t matter.

  ❧

  Voices. A woman’s, she thought. She struggled through the hazy fog that enveloped her, but couldn’t seem to find her way out. . . .

  “Jane? Jane, wake up!”

  She tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy.

  “That’s it, darling, open your eyes. You can do it!”

  The light bombarded her eyes, and she quickly shut them again. She moaned in response to the drums beating in her head.

  “Jane, you must open your eyes! Katy, go fetch the doctor!”

  Mama. Jane made another effort, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the overwhelming sunlight. Her mother’s face swam before her eyes. “Mama. . .”

  “Yes, darling, you’re going to be all right.”

  “My head.”

  “You have a concussion, but the doctor said you’d be fine. We’ve been so worried!”

  “What day is this?”

  “Thursday. The accident was yesterday. Do you remember what happened?”

  Jane drew her hand away from her face, trying to become accustomed to the light. “The horse bolted. . . . I couldn’t hold on.”

  “Yes, Luke told us all about it. He feels perfectly awful. Thinks it’s all his fault.”

  Jane wanted to object, but her strength was rapidly draining. She heard a door slam, then Dr. Hathaway bustled through a curtain hanging just beyond her mother.

  “Well, now, my patient awakens! Let’s see how we’re doing today. . . .”

  After asking her some questions and examining her eyes and head, the doctor smiled down at her. “I think you’re going to be just fine. You’ll have to rest and take your time in recovering and, of course, I’ll need to remove the sutures later.

  What sutures? Jane wondered. The doctor addressed her mother.

  “There’s no reason why you can’t take her home, Mrs. Cooper. She’ll be more comfortable there, and you’ll be able to. . .”

  Jane tried to cling to the voice, but the dark fog dragged her under once again.

  fourteen

  The next time Jane awoke, she felt like a bear coming out of hibernation: still groggy, but ready to join the world. She glanced around the room until her gaze settled on someone knitting in the rocker across the room. Katy. Her sister rushed to her side. Had she spoken the name aloud?

  Katy’s soft hand grasped her own. “Jane, how do you feel? Oh, how silly of me! You feel wretched, of course. Can I get you anythi
ng? A drink? Are you hungry?”

  Under other circumstances, Jane would have smiled at her sister’s typical babbling, however, her physical pain dulled her sense of humor. “Where’s Mama?”

  Katy tucked a blond curl behind her ear. “She’s downstairs in the restaurant, but she wanted me to come fetch her when you awoke. Will you be all right for a minute? Let me get you some water first.” She filled a glass with water from the porcelain pitcher, then helped Jane sit up to take a sip.

  Pain exploded in Jane’s head at the movement, but a powerful thirst gave her the determination to finish the glass.

  “I’ll be right back.” The door whooshed shut.

  Jane put a hand to the front of her head where it throbbed. A bandage covered the area, but she felt a large swollen lump just under its surface. Next, she glanced down to her left shoulder to explore the tightening pain coming from that area. Sutures. A jagged line of tiny stitches ran up her shoulder and disappeared from her line of vision.

  She raised her hand to her face again, this time to probe the discomfort along the side of her face. Her fingers found the bumpy, raised ridge that started at the hollow of her cheek. She followed the line down her jaw, where it broke for an inch or so, then continued along her neck to the sutures she’d found on her shoulder.

  Not my face, too! Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. She would be scarred! She remembered the scar David had on his arm from a childhood mishap with a saw blade. Its stark whiteness still stood out in contrast against his dark skin. Aren’t I homely enough already, God? Now, I’ll look like a freak!

  Anna Cooper slipped into the room, carefully balancing a wooden tray in her nimble hands. Her gaze slid perceptively over Jane’s face as she set her burden down on the bedside table. Jane watched the broth slosh over the edge of the soup bowl and pool next to the spoon.

  “Katy said you seemed more alert this time. She was right. You look like you might be ready for some food, hmm?” The bed sank a bit as Anna gently settled on the edge. “You gave us quite a scare, young lady.”

  Jane scanned her mother’s face for a clue to her appearance, but received no useful information. “Mama, bring me a mirror.”

  As if she hadn’t heard, Anna lifted the corner of Jane’s bandage. “Swelling’s gone down. It looks much better.” She shared a brief smile as she replaced the white gauze. “Let me feed you some soup. It’s best if you start with something light. It’s been almost two days since you’ve had anything, you know. You must be starving. Does your head hurt terribly? The doctor gave us some powders to—”

  “Mama, get me a mirror.”

  Her mother’s hand stopped in its path, the spoonful of broth quivering in its pocket. “I will, Jane, but first you’re going to finish this soup. Your body needs nourishment to recover.”

  Her mother’s expression and emphatic tone brooked no room for debate, so Jane complied. The broth was hot and tasty, and her taste buds awakened to the flavor. When she was finished, her stomach cried out for more, but Jane ignored it. Her mother held a glass of lemonade to her mouth, and Jane sipped from it. Once the empty dishes were placed on the tray, Jane attempted to prop herself up. Her mother quickly fluffed up the pillows behind her.

  “How bad is it?” Jane asked.

  “You’re going to be just fine.” Her mother patted her hand and smiled. “You do have a concussion and a nasty lump on your head, but the doctor says you’ll be just—”

  “That’s not what I mean. How bad does it look?”

  Her mother looked momentarily confused. “Why, you’re bruised of course. You took a nasty fall. Luke said you tangled with some barbed wire and—”

  “I’d like that mirror now.” Jane averted her eyes.

  “Of course.”

  Footsteps tapped across the newly polished wood floor, then the drawer of the bureau slid out with a familiar squeak. Jane drew in a shaky breath and let it out with a quiet huff. Shortly, her mother returned. Jane accepted the mirror with a trembling hand and held it up. Her eyes met those in the glass.

  Her face was a horrible palette of color. Yellow, blue, red. The white bandage streaked across her head like a crooked hat, hiding who knows what beneath it. She turned her face to the side. The ugly jagged line slashed down her face and onto her shoulder. She sucked in a breath. The tiny stitches looked unnatural on the skin. Like a delicate satin dress sewn with twine. Her eyes filled with tears, and the hand holding the mirror dropped lifelessly to her lap.

  “I’m a freak.”

  “Jane!” She heard her mother’s shock but did not care. “Of course you’re not! You’re just bruised, that’s all. Why, in a week or two you’ll be back to normal.”

  Normal! A strangled laugh escaped her cracked lips. As if that was something wonderful! She met her mother’s eyes. The woman looked at Jane as if questioning her sanity.

  “I won’t look normal, Mama. I’ll have a ghastly scar running down my face for everyone to gawk at! You know I will! As if I weren’t already—” Jane clamped her mouth shut. Somewhere outside a saw roared to life. Noises from the restaurant filtered through the walls, filling the silence.

  “As if you weren’t already what?”

  Jane struggled to control her rapid breathing. Her head was throbbing again, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Suddenly, she was so tired. . . .

  The door clicked open, and Katy stuck her head inside. “Luke’s downstairs, Jane. I told him you were awake, and he’d like to see you.”

  “No!” The word shot out with more vehemence than she’d intended. She couldn’t let Luke see her this way. How he’d pity her! “I’m tired, Katy. . . .”

  Mama squeezed her hand but addressed her sister. “Katy, please tell Luke that Jane is doing much better, but has tired out and isn’t up for company just yet.”

  After Katy left, Mama smiled gently at Jane. “He’s been hovering around every spare minute. First at the doctor’s office, then here.” Her mother pulled up the covers and tucked them carefully around Jane. “I get the feeling he cares a great deal for you.”

  Jane cringed inwardly. “Please Mama, I’m too tired to—”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll send Katy up to sit with you. Is there anything I can get?”

  Jane shook her head slowly, too sleepy to answer. She heard the door snap shut, then sank into a dreamless sleep.

  ❧

  With the next day came an improvement in her physical condition. Dr. Hathaway came by and pronounced her well enough to sit up and move about a bit. Jane’s days were still confused, but her mother told her the accident had been on Wednesday and today was Friday. Cassy and Caleb would be coming home tomorrow. She wondered how Elizabeth and Luke were faring.

  Despite being declared fit, Jane’s mood was as gray and stormy as the weather. She had never had anything to be vain about, but the thought of her current appearance frightened her more than she was willing to admit.

  At the very core of her fear, she realized, were her feelings for Luke. Knots tightened in her stomach every time she imagined Luke seeing her this way. Things had been going so well—better than she had ever dreamed.

  And now, this. She raised a hand to her face and ran her fingers along the now-familiar ridge. Luke would probably act as if nothing were different. He would avoid looking at it, look into her eyes, and pretend the grotesque deformity wasn’t there. He would call on her just as he’d promised. Court her.

  Pity her.

  How she hated that word! She would rather be laughed at and ridiculed than pitied. But Luke was too nice for that.

  He had come by again this afternoon, bringing Elizabeth with him. When she’d made her excuses to her mother again, her mother had searched her face until Jane had averted her eyes. Jane had held her breath, afraid her mother would insist on a brief visit, but finally her mother had sighed and left the room. What would she say the next time?

  ❧

  Jane could no longer deny she was feeling much better. Her headache
was now only a dull throb and, though she hadn’t dared to look in a glass again, she could tell the swelling was down on her face and head. She wondered if the bruising had faded to a yellow-green yet.

  Lying about in bed was becoming a bore. The rocker provided a change of position, but her mind was growing stagnant with nothing to do. Her mother and Katy brought everything she needed, and visits from her father and David provided a change of pace. She desperately wanted out of this room.

  But that would be even worse. Well-wishers would gawk at her. And worse, she would have to face Luke. Perhaps since Cassy and Caleb were returning home today, he would be too preoccupied to make the trip to town. He hadn’t missed a day yet.

  The doctor had come again and said she was healing quite nicely and should feel like getting up and around soon. The sutures, he’d said, would come out next week. She could hardly wait.

  Jane padded back to the bed and sank into its comforting softness. She’d just pulled up the light quilt to her waist and fluffed up the pillows behind her when she heard a tapping on the door. She smiled, recognizing the firm raps of her father’s hand.

  “Come in, Papa,” she called. “It’s about time you—”

  She froze in horror as Luke’s frame filled the doorway.

  fifteen

  Jane snapped her head toward the window, hiding her face from him. “Go away, Luke!”

  The silence lengthened between them, enveloping the room. What will I do if he comes near?

  “Jane, I just wanted to see for myself—”

  “Well, now you’ve seen. I don’t want company.” Tension stretched between them like an invisible cord.

  His feet shuffled near.

  “Jane, what’s—”

  “Just go! Go, Luke!” Her heart hammered in the taut moments of silence, sending darts of pain through her head. Her words had been harsh, rude even, but at least he’d stopped his approach. She closed her eyes. Go away! Please, just go away! her heart pleaded.