by Lori Wick
Again, Grandma Em went back to the tray she was preparing to bring upstairs. She delivered it and then returned to the kitchen to get lunch for Luke and herself. Luke made the mistake of not returning to Christine's room until after lunch. He would find out the hard way that when Christine was left upset and alone with her thoughts, they moved like wildfire and usually in the wrong direction.
"He had no right shouting at me," Christine told herself. "I am not answerable to him. If I want to wash my hair when I feel good enough to do so, it's none of his business. How would he like to smell like smoke?" This was the train of Christine's thoughts as she picked at her lunch. It had been easier than she expected to not talk; her throat did hurt.
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Her leg throbbed some, like a sunburn, but other than that she felt pretty good.
So with all these thoughts in mind Christine made a decision. As soon as she was on her feet, she would take the train home. She didn't see any problem in being home by Thanksgiving.
"Hello," Luke said as he came through the doorway. Christine politely set her lunch aside and watched as he pulled her desk chair around and straddled it. Even in her irritation that he had come back when once again she had decided she had made a mistake about him, she couldn't help but notice how he spilled over the chair. It was so rare to find someone who could make her feel small and protected. It was getting harder to hold onto her anger as she remembered those arms holding her, his presence when she needed him most.
Luke could see she was angry with him. He felt he should apologize for shouting at her and should tell her his anger stemmed from the fear she would get sick, that he cared too much about her to want that to happen. Not knowing how to start, he said, "Silas told me you were to come to the ranch tomorrow."
Christine nodded.
"I was thinking we could change your visit to next week, the day after Thanksgiving. Would you still like to come?"
Christine reached for her paper. When Luke saw her answer was longer than a simple yes or no, he felt a sinking sense of dread. He read the paper she handed to him. "I'm sorry I won't get to see your ranch, but I'm going home next week. Thank you anyway."
"Home?" Christine nodded. "To Spooner?" When her eyes turned wide with surprise, Luke said, "Yes, Christine, I know you're from Spooner. The sheriff mistook me one day for Mark and told me some things. I went to Mark immediately and demanded that he tell me the entire story."
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"You're very good at demanding things, aren't you?" Christine's voice was icy.
"Yes, I can be very demanding, just as you can be extremely stubborn," Luke answered her.
Christine turned her head away from him in anger and looked out the window. She heard his chair move and, assuming he was leaving, was surprised when he moved it up to the head of her bed and leaned close to her.
Christine wouldn't look at him. Luke waited patiently, and when she still didn't turn he reached and took one of her hands in both of his.
This brought her head around as she looked first at the way his hands swallowed her own, then up into those deep blue eyes glued to her own.
She looked confused, but she didn't pull her hand away, and Luke was encouraged. When he spoke, his voice was deep and quiet, his eyes probing hers. "When I got to the backyard Tuesday night and Gram said you were in the barn, I thought my heart was going to stop. And then today, when I shouted at you, it was out of fear you would get sick when I desperately want you back on your feet again."
A tear slid down Christine's cheek. "You confuse me."
"I don't mean to," he answered gently.
"It's not you, it's me. Everything confuses me." She began to cry. When she tried to speak, no sound came out and she cried harder.
Luke, unsure of what to say, sat holding her hand and rubbing it gently until she had composed herself. After she had dried her face and looked at Luke, she watched him bow his head. Christine followed suit.
"Dear heavenly Father, thank You for Christine's safety. Thank You for bringing her out of the fire. She was not hurt in the fire, Lord, but she is hurting. Please comfort and heal her. Dry her tears and hold her close. Calm her confusion as only You can do. Help her to trust You, Lord, for her every need, and help me to be here to encourage and care for her. I praise and thank You, God, that You saved Christine and
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put her in my life. Help us to trust You for our needs and feelings toward each other. In Your Son's holy name I pray. Amen."
Luke was still holding Christine's hand, and after the prayer he reached out and gently touched her cheek. Again their eyes met. "Please don't leave Baxter, Christine. I can't take care of you in Spooner. I can't get to know you if you're so far away. Please don't leave me, Christine, now that I've just found you." The desire to kiss her was almost overpowering, but Luke saw the confusion and fatigue in her eyes.
"I'll go so you can rest. I'll see you tomorrow." Reluctantly he withdrew, knowing that they both needed to be alone with their thoughts and to pray.
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"Well, Mr. Buelow, please come on in." Maggie answered the front door to find the hotel proprietor on the step.
"I know it's the dinner hour, but I need to see the Doc."
"Of course. I'll get him."
Mark appeared within seconds. "Hello, Al. Good to see you."
"Sorry to get you away from your lunch, but I need to see you."
"Certainly-come on into my office." Mark held open the office door that led off the entryway, and Albert Buelow preceded him inside. When both men were seated Mark said, "Now, what can I do for you?"
"It's not me that needs ya."
"One of your guests?" This was not an unusual occurrence.
"Yeah, we've had a man in number three since the weekend. When we didn't see him around for a few days, Ina thought she should check on him."
"Is he sick?"
"Not exactly. His arm is burned." Mark sat completely still as the weight of this news hit home. Al Buelow watched him, his look one of compassion.
"Is he from around here?"
"I've never seen him before."
"Who else knows about this?"
"Just Ina and myself."
Mark continued to sit very still, his heart hammering in his chest as he asked God for wisdom.
Al, will you do me a favor?"
"Anything, Doc."
Go to the sheriff and tell him all you've told me. Also tell him I'm headed over right now to check the man's arm. One more thing, Al- keep this to yourself"
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The man nodded solemnly before asking, "How is Miss Bennett?"
"She's doing fine, Al. It was kind of you to ask."
Mark had just seen Al Buelow out when Susanne came into his office. Her smile quickly faded at the look on her husband's face.
"Can you tell me, Mark?"
"There's a man at the hotel with a burned arm." Mark watched the color drain from his wife's face. Sue sat down heavily in the chair that Mark led her to.
"I'm afraid."
"I am too, but we're both being a bit premature. I haven't even examined the man. I'm headed there right now."
"Oh, Mark, please be careful!"
Mark pulled his trembling wife into his arms. "Shhh. You know I'll be careful." He kissed her gently. "Cover me with your prayers." Mark reached for his bag and was gone."
" 'Bye Silas, thanks for coming."
"Any time. I imagine Luke will be along about suppertime. The buyers today were a little more than we expected. It might not be fair to tell you this, but I could tell his mind was here and not at the ranch."
Christine smiled at him, and he and Grandma Em left the room. If Luke didn't come tonight, she would be tempted to get on a horse and go to him. It was hard to believe how much she wanted to see him.
After much prayer and thought, Christine realized she had been ready to run from the man she loved because anger was clouding her judgment.
In the last 24 hours Christin
e had done a lot of praying, confessing, and giving over her fears to God. It was time to get to know Luke. They really had shared a very small amount of time together. When he arrived, she planned on
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telling him that yesterday she had overreacted. She wanted to stay in Baxter in hopes of getting to know him better.
Yet doubts assailed her. Worrying that her approach was too forward, she prayed, "Please help me to know what to say."
Christine reached for her notepaper and scratched out a quick note. Then she moved down in bed to a more comfortable position for a short nap.
"I told ya I didn't want to see no one."
"Well, the doctor's here and he's going to look at that arm." Ina Buelow's hands were planted on her ample hips as she towered over the small, dirty man lying in agony upon one of her beds.
His eyes were clouded with pain, but he tried again. "I tell ya it ain't nothin' but a scratch. Now leave me be."
Mark decided to step in. "I'm Doctor Cameron, and whether or not I look at your arm is entirely up to you. But you will answer questions when the sheriff arrives. I can try to alleviate your pain before he comes or you can suffer through the questions."
The small man on the bed sagged with defeat. Or was it relief?
Mark moved forward. The man had a second-degree burn that ran from his left forearm to the back of his hand. He lay quietly, gritting his teeth as Mark examined, cleaned, and wrapped the swollen, oozing skin. By the time Mark finished, the man was bathed in perspiration but hadn't made a sound.
The sheriff had arrived and stood waiting to talk with him. The Buelows left and Mark stood near the door to listen.
Nearly two hours later Mark walked away from the hotel. The man had spent the first half-hour denying there even was a fire. After the sheriff looked around and in the closet
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found a raggedy overcoat with a badly burned sleeve and a wine bottle with a few tablespoons of kerosene sloshing around in the bottom, the man changed his story.
He insisted that he had been near the barn, but didn't start the fire. He could give no reason for the coat or the wine bottle and nearly came unglued when the sheriff told him the charge for attempted murder was the same in Baxter as it was in Spooner.
The sheriff told Mark when he left that he would be posting a man at the hotel until he could move the burned man to the jail. He never did give his name, but the sheriff planned on holding him until he could wire Spooner.
Mark arrived home to find his brother's horse in front of his house. He was thankful for the saved trip to the ranch.
Silas was on the front-room floor with Emily. They were reading a book together. Much to the delight of his niece, Silas' voice changed with each character.
Mark's cares momentarily evaporated as he listened to the antics of his brother.
The story ended when Emily spotted her dad. She danced around his legs until he swung her up into his arms. Silas folded his long frame into a chair and Mark took the couch.
"Is Luke coming into town tonight?"
"That's a silly question," Silas said with a raised brow.
Mark nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is."
"I just came from Gram's. Christine looks much better," Silas remarked.
"I saw her this morning and she seemed to be coming along. A bit down perhaps, but not physically."
"Luke's arrival will take care of that."
"Do me a favor and ask Luke to stop here when he gets into town."
"Sure, I'll tell him."
"Thanks."
Silas knew better than to ask, but his brother really looked upset about something.
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Not long afterward Silas rode toward the ranch, realizing that he could pray even without knowing any details, but his mind kept returning to Luke and Christine. Silas wondered if they had figured out that they were in love. Well, God would take care of it. As Mac liked to say, the Holy Spirit didn't need anyone's help.
The wind had picked up, as did Silas' mount, with both man and beast ready to be home.
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Luke tied his horse in front of Mark's place and knocked on the door. Mark answered and led Luke wordlessly into his office.
"Al Buelow came over today to tell me a hotel guest was hurt. The man's arm was burned. The sheriff questioned him and he found a burned overcoat and some kerosene hidden in the man's closet. The sheriff plans to hold him until he can get word to and a reply from Spooner."
Luke reeled under the weight of the news. He leaned against the wall, feeling as if the pins had been knocked out from under him.
Mark let Luke catch his breath before saying, "I don't know how to tell Christine without upsetting her."
"We won't tell her," Luke replied after some moments.
"What?"
"I said we won't tell her," Luke repeated calmly.
"Luke, that's not fair. She has a right to know."
"It will only frighten her. Anyway, the man is in custody. It's over now."
"Luke, it's not over. Christine is not dead and I'm sure whoever wants her that way will not give up so easily." Mark knew the words were harsh, but he could see the need to be blunt.
"I'll be here to take care of her."
"Luke, be reasonable. Even if you two were married, you wouldn't be with her all the time. She needs to know about this so she can be on her guard and less vulnerable. She's not a little girl, Luke. We can't protect and treat her like
one."
Mark continued on in his argument, but Luke was adamant. Mark even considered going to Christine himself, but put the idea away when he saw how single-minded Luke
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was to keep the information from her. He watched his brother leave, a heavy feeling in Mark's heart.
The ride to his grandmother's house was short, but in that span Luke was even more determined to keep the recent developments from Christine and to proceed as he hoped. By the time Luke arrived and found his grandmother in the kitchen, he had nearly succeeded in pushing the barn fire from his mind.
"I found this on Christine's bedside table when I checked on her." Grandma Em handed him the note.
Grandma Em, please wake me if Luke comes. Don't let him leave.
"Is she awake yet?" Luke asked, still holding the note.
"I don't think so. It's pretty quiet up there."
Luke began to pace. "Was she upset? Did she tell you why she had to see me?"
Grandma Em opened her mouth to answer when they both heard a sneeze. Luke gave his grandmother a small smile and walked with a determined stride up to Christine's room.
The room was chilly and Christine was settled back against the pillow, the quilts tucked in tight around her. She heard someone on the stairs and watched as Luke came in. He was without a doubt a man with a purpose.
Not a word was spoken as Luke moved the desk chair to the head of the bed and leaned close to Christine, much like yesterday.
"I've done a lot of thinking since yesterday, Christine. I was insensitive to your needs and I'm sorry." Luke leaned a bit closer, his voice almost urgent. "I realized after I left yesterday that we've had almost no time together." Luke hesitated, knowing it was too soon to tell her he loved her.
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"I care deeply for you, Christine. And I want you to stay in Baxter. Stay and give us time to get to know each other. I can't believe how little I know about you. We've both lost our parents and I think we have a lot to share. Please stay, Christine; give us a chance."
A tiny bubble of laughter, in contrast with the tears sparkling in her eyes, sounded from Christine's throat. "I had the same speech planned for you."
"You mean about staying in Baxter and getting to know each other?"
Christine gave him a happy nod. Luke's laughter sounded through the upstairs and Christine joined him. Their relief was more precious because they had both asked for God's guidance.
J Christine touched Luke's arm. "I need to say something else. I'm
sorry about the way I acted yesterday. I've never been a good patient."
"Oh, really! I hadn't noticed." Christine bit her lip in an effort to keep from smiling, knowing that if she did he would only be encouraged to tease her more.
When Christine asked Luke to give her a few minutes alone he left the room, shutting the door behind him, and waited in the hall. Supper aromas were drifting up the stairs, and he decided that he and Grandma Em should bring their plates up and eat with Christine.
"All set!" Luke turned in surprise at Christine's voice as she came out into the hall, dressed and wrapped in a quilt. She smiled at him as she moved toward the stairs. "I'm starved." Christine spoke again and was partway down the stairs before she realized that Luke had not followed.
Christine stopped and spoke without turning, "I'm fine, Luke. My throat doesn't hurt, and if I have to stay in that bed another minute I'll go out of my mind." Christine was relieved when she heard Luke move onto the steps behind her.
His presence was so comforting. She had to stop herself
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from leaning into him as he reached her on the stairs and put his hand on her back to guide her to the parlor.
"I rather thought I'd see you down here tonight, Christine." Grandma Em's eyes twinkled with mischief as she kissed Christine's cheek. "Your room is lovely, but 24 hours a day gets to be a bit much."
Grandma Em went back to the stove. Christine put her quilt on a chair, intending to follow. She had only stepped twice before she felt the quilt drop back onto her shoulders and Luke's hands guide her to a seat.
"I need to help," she protested after he had sat her down.
"I'll help her."
"Luke, I can't just sit here."
"Yes, you can." Christine heard the words correctly but knew that his look and tone were really saying, "You had better."
Luke, who was bent over Christine to talk quietly into her upturned face, saw the exact moment she gave in. His knuckles brushed feather-lightly down her cheek before he moved to aid his grandmother.