Heaven Sent

by Duncan, Alice

  He only smiled some more, so she guessed it was all right. “Right. How about now? How many fingers are straight?”

  “Four. Your thumb is still bent.”‘

  “Excellent, How about now?”

  “None.”

  “Good. And now?”

  “Three.” This was the strangest test Callie had ever been asked to take, but she wasn’t up to questioning the doctor about it.

  “Perfect. You’re progressing nicely. How do you feel, Callie? Do you think you can sit up?”

  Sit up? Callie tested the notion and found it disagreeable. On the other hand, she’d been promised a letter from Aubrey and, while it might contain horrid news, it might say something conciliatory. Maybe they could at least be friends, even if he’d never renew his offer of marriage.

  Her eyes began to fill with tears. Shoot, when had she become such a weeping lily? Since the horse beaned her, she guessed. “Sure,” she said, and started struggling. Instantly, her body and head protested.

  “Wait a minute, Callie,” Dr. Marshall said. “You can’t do it on your own. Let me help you.”

  Thank goodness. Callie was glad for the doctor’s assistance. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so weak,” she admitted.

  “Small wonder.”

  With the help of Dr. Marshall and a nurse—Callie wondered if it was the one who’d spoken to her of morphine—Callie maneuvered herself into a sitting position. The nurse fluffed pillows at her back, and Dr. Marshall settled sheets and blankets over her.

  When she looked at the bed, she saw very few wrinkles. Evidently, she hadn’t done much tossing and turning during her stay in—“Where am I?” she asked suddenly.

  “You’re in the Santa Angelica Hospital, Miss Prophet,” the nurse said. She looked familiar; Callie recalled seeing her in town a couple of times, although she’d never really met her.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Seven days,” the nurse answered.

  Dr. Marshall had started fiddling with his little black bag. “And I don’t mind telling you that we were afraid you wouldn’t pull through for a while.”

  “Oh.” Sounded serious. No wonder she hurt so much. “Urn, did you say there was a letter for me?”

  The doctor chuckled again. “There are lots of letters for you, my dear, although I’m sure there’s one you’re asking about particularly.” He shut his bag with a snap. “Too bad your sister Alta finally managed to persuade him to go to Alta’s house and get some sleep. Otherwise, he’d be here now. Did I tell you he’s been practically living in your room?”

  “Urn, I think so.”

  “Even made us put a cot in here so he could stay overnight. Didn’t trust the nurses to see to you properly, I guess.” Dr. Marshall went back to Callie’s bed and winked at her. “Although, I think there was probably another reason, too.”

  Probably wanted to scold her some more, Callie thought peevishly. She didn’t care to be the object of speculation of so nice a man as Dr. Marshall.

  Besides, Callie had ruined any chance of a romantic liaison with Aubrey because she’d allowed herself to behave in a despicable, sneaky way. She sighed, and realized her chest hurt, too. “Did the horse kick my chest?”

  She saw the doctor’s eyes open wide. “Good God, no. If he had, he’d probably have crushed you. I keep telling everyone that it’s a good thing he only kicked your head, since that’s the hardest part of your body.” He laughed.

  Callie didn’t think it was especially funny, but she managed to produce a smile.

  “I’ll get your correspondence, Miss Prophet,” the nurse said, and bustled off to return in a moment, bearing several letters.

  Listening to the nurse’s white skirts rustle, Callie vaguely recalled hearing that noise a lot recently. Seven days. Good heavens.

  Finally Dr. Marshall left the room and, after puttering around the room for another little while, during which time Callie wanted to shriek at her to go away, the nurse left, too.

  Alone at last, Callie shuffled through the several letters the nurse had set on her lap. She smiled at one that was addressed to her in Becky’s distinctive, childish hand.

  But that wasn’t the one she wanted to read first. Dr. Marshall had mentioned a letter from Aubrey. She found it at last and picked it up, her heart pounding in a cadence with her head.

  Aubrey had sealed it with wax, and Callie broke the seal with trembling fingers. She was surprised by how long a missive it was.

  “Blast!” She was so weak, in body and heart, that the tears started flowing again. She wiped them away impatiently, “How can you read if your eyes are full of water, you idiot?” she asked herself.

  Before an answer had occurred to her, she’d spread the sheet and lifted it so that she could read it without bending her head, which hurt abominably. She could hardly believe her watery eyes when she read the salutation.

  My Darling Callie

  “Oh, my,” Callie whispered. She read on.

  Please forgive me for hurting you, darling. I love you very much, Callie. I was a fool for not recognizing how special you are before now.

  “Good heavens.” With growing wonder, Callie wiped more tears away and continued reading.

  If you can ever forgive me, I pray that you will consent to marry me, darling Callie. I need you. Becky needs you. We both love you and, I think, you might learn to love me. I know you love Becky.

  “If I could learn to love him?” Callie stared at the words, wondering if her tears were getting in the way of coherent reading. But, no, that’s what he’d written, all right. Rereading the prior couple of sentences, she noted that he’d said he loved her, too. Good heavens.

  Please get better, Callie. Get better and conic. back to us. I will love and cherish you forever, my darling.

  He’d cherish her? Aubrey Lockhart would cherish Callie Prophet? “Oh, my,” she whispered, reading on.

  We can be married as soon as may be, love, and we can celebrate Christmas with your family in the home we share. Please, please, Callie, come back to me. I love you.

  Aubrey

  Callie had to turn her head into her pillow before her flowing tears could make the ink on Aubrey’s letter run. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to this letter. Ever.

  *****

  When Aubrey silently pushed open the door to Callie’s sickroom, he expected to find her sleeping. When he saw her sitting up in her bed, weeping, his heart flipped over and turned to slush. “Callie!”

  Her face streaming with tears, she lifted her face and looked at him. “Aubrey.”

  “Oh, God, Callie! What’s wrong?” He ran to her bedside.

  Nurses had been scolding him for days now about his disruptive ways, but Aubrey didn’t care about what the nurses thought of him. He cared about Callie. Sliding to a noisy stop beside her, he took up her hands. They were full of paper. He looked more closely and saw his letter.

  Had his letter made her cry? What had he said in it? Hadn’t he declared his love? Had he said something oafish and crude? Lord, Lord, why couldn’t he do anything right anymore?

  “Oh, Aubrey.” The words came out thick and watery.

  He sat very carefully on the edge of her bed and kissed her hands. The paper tried to poke him in the eye, but he wouldn’t let it. “What’s the matter, Callie? Did I write something awful? I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, Aubrey. Your letter is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” Her voice broke and a new flood of tears washed her face.

  As tenderly as he could, Aubrey wiped her cheeks with his handkerchief. “I love you, Callie. I love you beyond anything, I love you as much as I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  “Oh, Aubrey!” In spite of how much it must have hurt her poor battered body, she threw her arms around his neck. “I didn’t think you’d ever love any woman but Anne.”

  Good God, he was going to cry, too. How humiliating. Swallowing hard, he managed to say, “I was an ass, Callie. I loved Anne, sure. I love Becky. An
d I love you—madly and passionately. I didn’t realize how much love I had locked away inside me until you found the key to my heart.”

  Aubrey thought she said, “That’s the most beautiful thing anybody’s ever said to me,” but wasn’t sure, because her words were muffled by tears.

  “Marry me, Callie. Please marry me. As soon as may be.”

  “I will, Aubrey. I love you so much!”

  “Thank God.” Aubrey thought he might just live through the day after that.

  *****

  As soon as may be was the day before Christmas Eve. A fully recovered Miss Callida Prophet was united in holy matrimony with Mr. Aubrey Lockhart in the tiny Santa Angelica Methodist Church, with the Reverend Mr. Pinker reading the sermon. Everyone in the village attended the wedding, which meant there weren’t enough seats in the church. Folks didn’t seem to mind standing.

  All of Aubrey’s San Francisco relations attended the nuptials, too, including Anne’s relatives. Only Mrs. Bridgewater, who claimed to be suffering from a nasty cold, didn’t make the trek to Santa Angelica. Aubrey, Callie, and Becky, not to mention Mrs. Granger, Figgins, and Delilah, were surprised by the old cow’s unexpected consideration.

  Becky Lockhart served as Callie’s maid of honor, thus preventing Callie having to make a decision between Alta and Florence, who served as brides’ matrons. Mark Henderson, who stared rather wistfully at Callie during the ceremony, served as Aubrey’s best man. George Prophet escorted Callie down the aisle and gave her away, acting as a suitable replacement for the Prophets’ deceased father.

  Monster watched from the choir loft, Becky and Callie having decided he deserved to attend the wedding ceremony.

  A gala reception was held after the service at the Lockhart mansion, which was decked out in royal style for a Christmas wedding. Mrs. Granger hired several girls from the village to help her cook and decorate. Florence, who had a knack for such things, made and decorated the cake, which Mrs. Granger didn’t resent too much, since she had plenty of other work to do.

  Callie made a radiant bride in her ivory poplin wedding gown with pearls worked into an orange blossom design with scalloped sleeve caps. She’d had the gown made of ivory poplin since she didn’t think she could honorably wear white.

  No one seemed to notice her choice of colors, especially since her attendants wore red velvet, in honor of the season.

  Aubrey was more handsome than Callie had ever seen him, in his black cutaway coat and black trousers. She’d never in her life seen George arrayed so elegantly and was hard-pressed not to giggle as she walked down the aisle on his arm.

  At the reception, Callie and Aubrey led the dancing with a waltz. Mark Henderson danced most often with Becky, but he managed to sneak in a few dances with Callie, too.

  Callie and Aubrey exchanged letters that night, before they went to bed. Callie’s read, I love you, Aubrey. Aubrey’s read, I love you, Callie.

  And they did.

  About the Author

  Award-winning author Alice Duncan moved from her home town in Pasadena, California, and now lives with a herd of wild dachshunds (enriched from time to time with fosterees from New Mexico Dachshund Rescue) in Roswell, New Mexico. She’s not a UFO enthusiast; she’s in Roswell because her mother’s family settled there fifty years before the aliens crashed. Alice would love to hear from you at alice@aliceduncan.net. And be sure to visit her website at http://www.aliceduncan.net

  Please also visit her Facebook pages: https://www.facebook.com/alice.duncan.925 and https://www.facebook.com/AliceDuncansBooks