by Irene Brand
“Don’t even have such thoughts,” Norah scolded, and whacked him lightly on the shoulder. “We’ll soon have you back in the saddle again.”
“I know. I’ve made enough improvement in the past week to believe that even an old crock like me must still have some living to do.”
“Of course you have. We can’t judge our lives by the number of years, but by what we accomplish along the way. Is there anything special you want for supper?”
“I haven’t had much of an appetite, but I figure that’s going to change when I start eating your food. Fix what you want—I’ll like it.”
Chapter Sixteen
While Mason slept, Norah brought her basket and sat in a rocker near his bed. She was behind with the crocheted shawls and bed jackets she’d been making for nursing homes in Springfield, a separate project. Her goal was fifty each year, and considering the hours she’d spent with H & H this summer, she hadn’t had much time for needlework.
Mason was watching her before she realized he was awake. When she became aware that his eyes were on her, she put her crocheting in the basket. “Why didn’t you tell me you were awake? I didn’t want to make any noise to disturb you, so I’ve been waiting to prepare supper.”
“Do you know how wonderful it is to see you sitting there? I’m inclined to believe the old adage that it takes a woman to make a home.” He looked around the room where Norah had placed several of the personal items she’d brought from the Bar 8. “This room has never seemed so homey.”
“I have a casserole prepared, and I’ll pop that in the microwave. Supper will be ready soon. I’ll bring a pan of water for you to wash up.”
“No, I’m going to the bathroom. I’m supposed to walk several times a day. Then I’ll sit in a chair for supper.”
She put the casserole in the oven. “I’ll walk behind you in case you need help.”
It hurt Norah to see Mason limping along like an old man, but she was comforted to know that it was only temporary. “Paul took the door off the bathroom so you can maneuver the walker easier.”
“Hey! That doesn’t give much privacy.”
“It will be all right,” she said as she left him at the door of the bathroom. “Please call when you’re ready to start back. We don’t need any heroics around here. You have to be careful until your hip heals.”
After supper, Norah perched on the foot of his bed and placed a wide cutting board between them. “Let’s play Scrabble.” She scattered the small letter blocks on the board. “I brought this box from the Bar 8. You probably know how to play. We each draw several letters and make words with them.”
Mason entered into the game enthusiastically, at first, but when he started yawning, she knew his medication was taking effect.
“Lights out!” she said.
“I guess so,” Mason agreed, “but I’ll be glad when I can stop taking this pain medicine. It gives me bad dreams.”
“Call me if you need anything. I’ll keep the bedroom door open.”
She turned out the lights, leaving only a dim lamp burning near his bed. When she bent over him, Mason’s large fingers wrapped gently around her chin, and his breath fanned her face. Her heart raced when his lips pressed against hers, leaving her mouth soft and warm. With a contented sigh, she buried her face in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. She brushed a gentle kiss on his neck and drew away from his warm embrace.
“Good night,” she whispered.
Dealing with the emotions Mason’s kiss had stirred in her heart kept Norah awake, and she hadn’t been asleep very long when she was awakened by his muttering. He might be talking in his sleep, but she hurried down the hallway. Mason was writhing on the bed, as if he were in pain.
She laid a light hand on his shoulder, and he quieted. “Mason, are you all right?”
“Norah?”
“Yes, I’m here. Are you hurting?”
“All over,” he said.
“I’ll massage your leg muscles, and after that, why don’t you sit in a chair, so I can work on your shoulders?”
Her skilled fingers soon brought ease to his aches, and he said, “You’re good at this, Norah—much better than the nurses at the hospital. You should have been a nurse.”
Norah laughed at his comment as she applied lotion to his back and shoulders. “I may be confused about what God’s calling was, but I’m sure he never intended me to be a nurse. I can only perform these functions for people I—” She stopped short of saying, “people I love,” and stammered, “people I know.”
She gave his back a final pat and drew his shirt into place.
“How about some hot tea?” she asked. “I have decaf, so it won’t keep you awake.”
And to Norah it didn’t seem at all unusual that, at two o’clock in the morning, they sat together drinking tea.
Their days and nights developed a similar pattern. For the first two weeks, the long trips into Broken Bow for therapy kept Mason so weak and irritable that he wasn’t sure he would ever return to normal health. But each time, the therapist assured Mason he was making progress. When the doctor relaxed some of the restrictions he’d placed on Mason, Paul started taking Mason on short trips in the truck to look over the ranch.
Since the driveway to the mailbox was black-topped, with Mason riding in his wheelchair, Norah took him to pick up the mail each day. He was with her when she received a letter from her Realtor.
“I’m going to open this now,” she said excitedly. “I hope he’s sold the house. Do you want me to read it aloud?”
“Yes, please.”
“Dear Norah,
“I have some terrific news for you. A development company is buying property in Springfield to build a shopping mall, and they’ve chosen several blocks of land where your house is located. That’s the good news. Now the bad news is that the house will be razed. I know it will hurt to have your birthplace demolished, but before you get too grieved over that, consider that they’re offering $500,000 for the property. That’s much more than you can hope to get if it’s sold for a residence. Let me know as soon as possible if you’ll take the offer.”
“That’s more than what I’m asking for the Bar 8.”
But Norah hardly heard him. If she was still dreaming about going to the mission field, this amount would more than pay for her expenses. But wisely invested, it would also provide her with some old-age security. Since she’d never had a job outside the home, she didn’t have the retirement benefits many people did.
Thoughtfully pushing Mason back to the house, she remembered what he’d said about the Bar 8. “Then I hope you’re as successful in selling as I’ve been.”
“Does it bother you to have your family home destroyed?”
“Yes, it does. My grandfather Williamson built the house. It was a wonderful building once, but it’s an old house now. I’ll call the Realtor right away.”
“Then you’re going to accept the offer?”
“Don’t you think I should?”
“I don’t have any idea about real estate prices in Missouri, but the Realtor seems to think it’s a good offer.”
“He’s been a friend of our family for years, so I can rely on his judgment.”
Norah telephoned the Realtor before she and Mason left for his therapy treatment. The assurance that there was little doubt that the developer would be able to buy all the land he needed contributed to her mounting excitement throughout the day.
Mason was happy for her windfall, but he wondered what difference the sale of her property would make between them. The doctor kept assuring him that he was making progress, but Mason still wasn’t sure he would be physically able to run the Flying K as he had before. He couldn’t speak to her about a future until he was well again.
And Norah tried to suppress her excitement, because until she saw which door God chose to open for her, she couldn’t talk with Mason about the future. Before she went to sleep that night, she thanked God for His faithfulness, and for the sale of
her home. She asked for His continued guidance and closed her prayer with the assurance she’d learned from Miss Emma. “God knows best what is best for me.”
Norah didn’t believe modern-day visions were necessary, but when she awakened the next morning, she had no doubts about what she should do.
“My, you look chipper this morning,” Mason said crankily when she entered the living room, a broad smile on her face and peace in her heart.
He groaned when he sat up and tried to get out of bed. She rushed to his side. “Didn’t you sleep well?”
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to me. I’m always tired after a therapy session.” He knew that mental stress was partially to blame for keeping him awake. He was getting better, and it wouldn’t be long until he didn’t need a nurse. Once he was able to stay alone, Norah would leave.
He was strong enough now that he could walk without Norah’s assistance, so while he took a shower and dressed for the day, Norah made a telephone call.
Speaking quietly, she said, “Paul, you mentioned you were going to a cattle sale today—do you think Mason is up to going?”
“What does Mason think about it?”
She laughed nervously. “He’s taking a shower now, and I don’t want him to know I telephoned you. I have some things to do that I don’t want him to know about. It would be helpful if you’d keep him occupied today.”
“Sure, Norah, I’ll take care of him,” Paul said. “I can take a folding chair so he’ll have a comfortable place to sit. This will be good for him—I should have thought about it myself. I’ll telephone and arrange it.”
Feeling a little ashamed because she was deceiving him, Norah prepared Mason’s favorite breakfast—buckwheat cakes, maple syrup and sausage.
The shower must have loosened his joints, because when he came into the kitchen, a satisfied expression on his face, he was walking unassisted.
“Mason! Where’s your walker?”
“I don’t need it in the house.”
She hurried down the hall and came back with the walker, which she deliberately placed beside his chair.
“Please, Mason, you’ve been so good. It’s only a few more weeks—don’t get reckless now.”
“I’m tired of being an invalid,” he complained.
She brushed back his hair that was still damp from the shower and kissed the soft spot behind his ear. Kneeling beside his chair, she placed her arms around his waist carefully for his ribs were still tender to the touch.
“I understand that. And I want you back to normal as much as you want it, so please don’t do anything to overset the recovery you’ve made.”
Shamefaced, Mason leaned his head on hers. “I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d be pleased to see I could walk alone.”
“And I am, but don’t rush it.”
“Forgive me for upsetting you. Now that I’m getting stronger, it’s hard to stay idle. There’s so much to do on the ranch—things I won’t ask Paul and Doug to do. I must have a barn built before winter sets in, and I’ll have to borrow money to build the kind of barn I need. I can’t do a thing about it until I’m on my feet again.”
“It will all work out. The first thing is to concentrate on a full recovery.”
She started to stand, but Mason held her in place proving that he had indeed gained a lot of strength.
“Have I told you how much you’ve meant to me in the past few weeks? I don’t know how you’ve been so patient. I love you, Norah, and I believe you love me, but I’m not going to say anything more until the doctor gives me a clean bill of health. You’ve spent most of your life taking care of your brother and father—I won’t ask you to do the same for me. It’s time you had someone to look after you.”
The ringing telephone interrupted them, and Norah brought Mason the cordless phone. Norah knew it was Paul Johnson when Mason said, “I’d sure like to go, Paul. I’m getting cabin fever, but let me see what Norah thinks about it.”
He turned to Norah, whose face flushed guiltily, and she found it difficult to meet his glance.
“Paul wants to take me to an auction today. Do you think I should?”
“I’m sure he’ll take good care of you. The weather forecaster predicted a summerlike day, so why not?”
Mason thanked Paul, saying he’d be ready when Paul came by in an hour.
“But what will you do all day?” Mason questioned. “I hate to leave you alone.”
“I have some shopping and banking to do, so I’ll drive into Valentine this morning.”
Even though Norah did feel guilty for prodding Paul into inviting Mason, his enthusiasm for being out with his fellow ranchers again made Norah happy for him. She’d forced herself not to smother him with her attentions, but he’d come to the place where he readily asked for help in things he couldn’t do. Pulling on his boots, for instance, was a chore that took both of their skills, and they were usually panting and laughing at the end of each attempt.
But when Paul stopped his car in front of the house, Mason was ready except for his widebrimmed hat, which Norah perched on his head at a rakish angle.
“I’m going to miss you, Norah. Doesn’t seem possible that we’ve been constant companions for over a month and haven’t gotten on each other’s nerves. At least, you haven’t gotten on mine.”
“I’ve enjoyed being here.”
“Got a kiss for me before I leave?” With his right hand on the table, he steadied himself and put his left arm around her midriff. Norah relaxed into his embrace, enjoying the feel of his hand on her waist. His kiss was slow and tender with a promise of more to come.
Their intimate caress was broken by Paul’s booming voice. “Are you going to an auction or staying here to kiss your nurse?”
Mason slowly lifted his lips, his eyes searching Norah’s, and he said to Paul, “I do find her company more appealing than yours, but I’ll try to make it through the day with you.”
Paul held Mason’s arm as he negotiated the one step to the ground-level porch. Norah knew that Paul would take good care of him, so she hurried with her shower and dressing. Before she left for Valentine, she telephoned the Realtor in Springfield and received good news.
“The deal is going through,” he said, “and I got twenty thousand more than originally offered. Your lot is a large one, and very important to the location of the development. In fact, the way the land lies close to the river, if they couldn’t buy your property, the developer might have backed out of the deal. The papers will be ready to sign within the month. Will you be home by then, or shall I mail them to you?”
“I’m not sure. If I leave here, I’ll contact you. Otherwise, just mail them to the address you’ve used all summer.”
Chapter Seventeen
Norah returned from Valentine a half hour before Paul and Mason got back to the Flying K. The answering machine light was blinking, but having a good idea what the message was, she waited for Mason to receive it. She changed into blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and was starting supper when saw them turn off the highway onto the Flying K road. She waited for Mason on the porch. Lines of fatigue etched his face, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure.
“I got along all right today,” he said when he reached Norah. “For the first time I’m hopeful that I’ll make a full recovery.”
“Of course you’ll make a full recovery. I’ve never doubted that.”
“But I am tired,” he said. “Do I have time for a nap before supper?”
“Yes. I don’t have the food ready yet.”
She waved to Paul, who was heading toward the stable. “I’ll check on things before I go.”
“Want to eat supper with us?”
“No, thanks. Mary will be looking for me.”
“Thanks a lot,” Norah said.
Norah didn’t call attention to the blinking light on the answering machine, for she thought Mason needed rest. He slept for an hour, breathing deeply, and when she thought he’d had sufficient r
est, but not too much to ruin his night’s sleep, she started rattling the kitchen utensils. He roused, swung his feet off the bed, yawning and threading his fingers through his hair.
“I’ve been dead to the world.” When he saw the time, he said, “You should have called me.”
As he started toward the bathroom, he said, “We apparently have a message,” and he pushed the play button on the answering machine.
Norah’s hands tightened on the edge of the sink where she was preparing salad.
“Hey, Mason,” the voice of the Valentine Realtor sounded in the room. “I have a buyer for the Bar 8. I took a two months’ option today for the sale of the property. Give me a call if you’re home before five o’clock, and we can talk over details.”
“At last!” Mason said joyfully. “I wondered if I’d ever sell the place. It’s too late to telephone him tonight, but I’ll sleep better knowing I’m out of the woods financially.”
“But what happens to Sheila and Doug when you’ve sold the ranch?” Norah asked, for she’d been concerned about them.
“Doug is buying a ranch that adjoins Paul’s. I’ve helped him by furnishing a house and hiring him to keep an eye on the Bar 8. He’s been saving all the money I’ve paid him so he can build a house on their property. They’ll be okay.”
Norah dallied with the cleaning-up chores as long as she could, but finally she went to her bedroom and came back with an envelope. She waited quietly until the newscast Mason was watching had finished, before she said, “Mason, we need to have a serious talk.”
He clicked the off button on the remote. Turning to face her, he said, “You’re not planning to leave!”
Smiling slightly, she said, “No, I’m not. I’m buying the Bar 8.”
He stared at her, speechless. When he did speak, he said angrily, “I won’t sell it to you. It’s a poor investment. I won’t let you sink money in a ranch that I can’t even make a profit on. It’s out of the question.”