by Janette Oke
"I know-I know;' I heard myself agreeing impatiently, "but are they hurt?"
My own common sense told me that they would be hurt. I began to shake. "How-how badly-?" but I couldn't finish.
"I-I don't know," Grandpa said with a shudder. "The older boy went fer Doc. Thet's-thet's all he said:"
I came alive then. Spinning around I ran for the barn, calling over my shoulder, "Where are they?"
Grandpa called back, "At Smiths;' and I raced to get to the barn and Chester. My insides felt as if they were in a vice. I was frantic for both girls, but I heard only one word escape from my lips. "Mary!"
Maybe it shouldn't have surprised me, I don't know. I probably should have been smart enough to know it all along, but it was painfully clear to me as I ran that if anything happened to Mary, I-I wouldn't be able to bear it.
Chester had stood stock-still. I guess he sensed I hadn't finished the job of properly putting on his saddle. If he had moved at all it most certainly would have fallen down under his feet somewhere. I jerked it off and thrust it aside now. I sure wasn't going to take the time to fuss with a cinch.
I threw myself across Chester's back even before we left the barn, ducking low to miss the crossbeam of the barn door. I didn't stop even to fasten the door behind me as I had been taught. I put my heels to Chester, and we were off down the lane.
It was the first time in my life that I let Chester run full gallop for any distance, but I didn't check him. He seemed to sense my agitation and took advantage of the situation. But even with the Smiths being fairly close neighbors and Chester running at full speed, the trip still seemed to take forever.
I wanted to cry but I was too frightened-too frozen. Even the whipping wind failed to bring tears to my eyes. All of my being seemed shriveled and deathly cold with fear. All I knew was that Mary had been hurt-maybe badly hurt-maybe even-I need to get there-need to get to Mary! my mind screamed at me.
When we came to the Smiths' lane, I forgot to rein Chester in and we very nearly didn't make the turn at their gate. Because of his speed, Chester swung wide when I turned him and ended up almost running into the fence rails. That near-accident sharpened my senses a bit, and I began to think rationally again.
I pulled Chester in and was able to get him under control as we entered the farmyard. I flung myself off his back and flipped a rein carelessly over a fencepost. I could see Doc's horse tied to a post down by the corral. I breathed a prayer for him and the girls as I raced toward the Smiths' back entry.
I guess I didn't knock-I don't know, but there I was in the Smiths' big kitchen. Mrs. Smith was clucking over the tragic event.
"-such a shame;' she was saying. "Such nice young ladies, too. Just to think-"
"Where are they?" I cut in, completely ignoring any manners.
"Doc is with them;' she replied, not seeming to take any offense at my rudeness.
"How-how-?" But I still couldn't ask the question.
Mrs. Smith just shook her head, motherly tears of concern filling her eyes. I couldn't stand it any longer. I wanted to scream. Mrs. Smith was busy pouring a cup of coffee, and I knew without her even saying so that she expected me to sit down at her table and drink it. I turned my back on the table and the coffee cup, biting my lip to get some kind of control. I had to know! I had to know!
"Where are they?" I asked Mrs. Smith again, fighting to control my voice.
"The young schoolteacher, Miss Matilda, is in Jamie's room;" she said slowly. "We thought that-"
"Where's Mary?" I cut in.
But I didn't get an answer. Right at that moment Mr. Smith entered the kitchen. He eased himself to a chair at the table and took the coffee that had been poured. Mrs. Smith just reached for another cup.
"A shame, josh, just a shame;' Mr. Smith said, shaking his head in sympathy. "Here ya only had thet there new car fer such a short time, an' I'm afraid thet it won't never be quite the same" At the look of horror on my face he hurried on. "Oh, Jamie and me pulled it outta the ditch with the team. Got it back right side up-but the frame-"
I couldn't believe it. Mr. Smith was bemoaning my motor car, and the girls were somewhere in the house in a condition I could only guess at, with the doctor trying to piece them back together.
"I don't care none about the car;' I fairly exploded and then knew I wasn't being fair. "I-I'm sorry," I apologized. "It's just-just-what about the girls? You see," I went on, nearing Mr. Smith's chair as I spoke, "I don't even know what happened. How badly-?"
"I'm sure Doc will-" started Mrs. Smith, but I didn't even turn to hear the rest of her sentence.
Mr. Smith interrupted her. "Near as we can figure it;' he said, "they was headin' home when thet there storm hit. The road likely got slippery. You know how it gets:'
I nodded and Mr. Smith stopped for another sip of coffee.
I urged him on with another nod. That storm was hours ago! my brain was telling me.
"Well, they went off the road. The car flipped over. Miss Matilda wasn't able to go fer help. I suspect thet she has a broken leg-along with other things."
"Mary?" I asked numbly.
"She-she was pinned under the car-she couldn't go fer help either:"
Pinned under the car. The words sent my world spinning. She was pinned under the car. She might be-she could be-
"Mary;" I heard myself say again, but this time I was pleading. "Please, dear God, don't let Mary-"
"Too bad they had to lay there in the wet fer so long;" Mr. Smith was saying. "Not many folks travel along thet road. Jamie an' me jest happened to-"
But I couldn't stand it anymore. I knew the rules. One was supposed to wait patiently until the doc had finished with the patient and given permission for you to go in to call at the bedside. But this is Mary! I had to know.
I headed for a door that would lead me to the inner part of the house. There were no sounds coming from anywhere but the kitchen, so I had nothing to guide me. "Josh," Mrs. Smith was calling from behind me, "Josh, you should-"
There was a stairway-and I took it. It led me to a hallway with doors leading off it. Four doors, in fact. I assumed them to be bedrooms and opened the first one. No one was in the room. I hurried on to the second. Doc was there. He was bending over the bed where someone lay quietly. I moved forward, part of me demanding that I turn tail and run.
It was Matilda. Her hair was wet and matted. Her face was bruised and had several tiny bandages. One leg, which lay partly exposed outside her blankets, was wrapped in whiteness. I guessed that Mr. Smith's diagnosis had been right.
I had never seen a human all bruised and broken before. She looked just awful.
At the sight of me she began to cry. "Oh, Josh. I'm so sorry;' she sobbed. "The rain-the road just-"
Doc didn't scowl me out of the room. He even moved aside slightly. I knelt down beside Matilda and ran a hand over her tangled hair.
"It's all right;' I said hoarsely. "It's all right. Don't cry. Just-just get better. Okay?"
I wanted to cry right along with Matilda, but I couldn't. My eyes were still dry-my throat was dry. I could hardly speak. I just kept smoothing her hair and trying to hush her.
Matilda seemed to quiet some. I stood to my feet and looked Doc straight in the eye. "How's-" I began. "How's-?"
"Mary?" he finished for me.
I nodded mutely.
"She's in the room across the hall;" Doc said and turned his attention back to Matilda's arm.
I swallowed hard and turned back to the hallway. The first few steps made me feel as if I had lead boots. I could hardly lift my feet, and then I almost ran.
The door was closed and I shuddered as I turned the handle. Seeing Matilda had really shaken me. How might Mary look? She had been-had been pinned under the motor car. I didn't want to go into the room-but I had to know. I had to be with her.
I opened the door as quietly as I could. A small lamp on the dresser cast a faint light on Mary's pale face. There was a large white bandage over one eye, and an
other covering most of an arm lying on top of the sheets, which were pulled almost to her chin. Two heavy quilts were tucked in closely about her body. What are all those blankets hiding? I asked myself. She was pinned-
My eyes went back to her face. So ashen. So still. Her eyes shut. Was she-? Is she already gone? And then I saw just the slightest movementalmost a shiver.
In a few strides I was beside her, kneeling beside her bed, my hand reaching to gently touch her bruised face.
"Oh, Mary, Mary," I whispered.
Her lashes lifted. She focused her eyes on my face. "Josh?" she asked softly.
"I was so scared;' I admitted as I framed her cheek with my hand. "I was afraid I'd lost you-that-"
"I'm fine," she whispered, moving her bandaged arm so that she could reach out to me.
"Don't move," I quickly cautioned, fearing she might come to more harm.
"I'm fine;" she assured me again in a whisper.
"But-but you were pinned-"
"Miraculously pinned;' Mary responded and she even managed a weak smile. "Oh, it caught me a bit on the arm-but it was mostly my coat sleeve. Doc says I'm a mighty lucky girl"
"You're-you're not hurt?"
Mary moved slightly, and groaned. "I didn't say I'm not hurt," she admitted; then seeing the look of panic in my eyes, she quickly went on, "But nothing major and nothing that won't heal."
"Thank you, God;' I said, shutting my eyes tightly for a moment. Then I turned my full attention back to Mary. "I was so scared-so scared thatthat-I didn't even know until-until Billie brought the word-"
"I'm sorry, Josh. We had no way of getting help. No way of letting you know. We couldn't get to a neighbor's. Couldn't even get to the road an'your supper-?"
I stopped her. The memory of my impatience over our meal not being ready made me flush with shame. I looked at Mary's face, swept soft and pale in the lamplight. "I should have known. I should have realized before;' I admitted. "I don't know how I could be so dumb."
"You had no way of knowin'," argued Mary. "Sometimes we are later than we plan. Things-things just happen that delay us. But to miss the supper hour-No one could have guessed that we were lyin' there in the ditch;' Mary explained and I realized that once again she was finding excuses for me. She was always doing that. Getting me off the hook when I did or said something stupid.
I brushed a wisp of hair back from her face. "Maybe deep down inside I knew all the time;' I murmured, "but it took something like this for me to realize-"
Mary's eyes were puzzled. "You couldn't have known'bout the accident," she said.
"No;' I answered. "I'm talkin' 'bout me-us. I was scared to death, Mary, that I'd lost you-before I'd really found you. I didn't realized until-until-" I stopped with a shudder.
"Josh;' said Mary softly but insistently, "what are you talkin' about?"
I looked at her-my Mary, lying there white and quiet on the neighbor's borrowed bed. She could have been killed! My heart nearly stopped even at the thought. I could have lost her. But she is still here-
I tried to speak but I choked on the words. I swallowed hard and tried again, looking directly into Mary's eyes.
"I-I love you," I managed to blurt out. "Maybe I always have-at least for a long time, but-but I was just too blind to see it-until now. I-"
But Mary's little whisper stopped me. "Oh, Josh;' she uttered, her hand coming up to touch my cheek, and I could see tears filling her eyes.
My own tears came then. Sobbing tears. I laid my head against Mary's shoulder and wept away all the pent-up emotions of the past dreadful hours. Mary let me cry, her hand gently stroking my head, my shoulder, and my arm.
I didn't bother to apologize when I was finished. Somehow I knew Mary wouldn't think an apology necessary.
"I love you," I repeated, conviction in my voice.
"Bless that of car;' Mary said with a little smile.
"What?"
"Bless that car. An' the rain. An' the slippery road. An' our upendinMary was smiling broadly now, but her words made no sense at all. I wondered if she maybe was hallucinating.
"Oh, josh!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining, "you don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say those words:"
"You mean-"
"I have loved you-just forever;' she stated emphatically. "I began to think that you'd never feel the same 'bout me:'
I felt as if there was a giant explosion somewhere in my brain-or in my heart. I love Mary. Mary loves me back! She would get better. We could share a life together. I could ask Mary to be my wife.
I had to put it in words-at least some of it. "You love me?"
Mary nodded. "Always," she stated simply.
"And I love you-so much:"
Mary nodded again, her face flushed with color.
"Then-" I began, but stopped. I hesitated. It didn't seem fair to her somehow. Slowly I shook my head.
"No, no;' I said. "I'm not gonna ask you now. Not yet. I'm gonna court you properly. Give you a little time:"
A small question flickered in Mary's eyes.
"But not much time," I hurried on. "I couldn't stand to wait long nownow that I know. And one thing you can be sure of-I'm gonna come askin'- so you'd best be ready with an answer."
"Oh, Josh;' Mary whispered.
Doc's timing couldn't have been worse. I had just kissed Mary-for the first time-and found it quite to my liking. Knowing now that she wasn't seriously injured, I drew her a little closer. Mary's eyelashes were already fluttering to her cheeks in anticipation of another kiss, her arms tightening about my neck. I don't know if it was the opening of the door or Doc's "Ahem" that brought me sharply back to reality, but I sure did wish he could have delayed just a few minutes more.
CHAPTER 12
Courtship
When I got back down to the kitchen, Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had arrived as well as Uncle Nat. Everyone was concerned about the girls, and the talk in the room was hushed and stilted.
But I wanted to shout and skip around the room like Pixie used to do. It seemed impossible that just a half hour earlier I'd had the scare of my life. Now I was walking on air. With all my heart I wished that I could share my good news-but I knew that wouldn't be right. Especially when Mary couldn't be with me. Yet I was fairly giddy with my new-found love. I felt several sets of eyes on me, and I wondered if they could see right through to my heart. I fought hard for some composure.
"They're fine," I said as nonchalantly as I could. "Both of 'em. Only scratches and cuts and bruises and a broken leg"
I knew that description didn't exactly go with "fine"-but I guess the group around the kitchen table was willing to chalk it up to my relief.
"Thank God!" said Grandpa, and Uncle Nat echoed his words. Then we were all bowing our heads while Uncle Nat led us in a prayer of thanksgiving. As soon as we had finished our prayer they wanted a more complete report.
"So Miss Matilda's leg was broken;' Mr. Smith pointed out with a knowing glance around the room.
I nodded.
"What else?" prompted Grandpa, referring to Matilda again. "What other injuries? Is she hurt bad?"
"Just cuts and bruises. Nothin' that won't quickly heal. She was worryin' about the motor car:' I was still uncomfortable that she would even think about that when all I wanted was for the two girls to be alive and well.
"An' Mary?" asked Uncle Charlie, his voice quivering a bit.
At the mention of Mary's name, my heart leaped in my chest and I was sure my face must be flushing.
"She's fine-just fine" I couldn't keep some excitement from creeping into my voice no matter how hard I tried. "She-she has some cuts-one above her eye, one on her arm. Lots of bangs and bruises-but not even a broken bone." They were all so intent in their worrying over the girls that they missed my intensity. Anyway, no one looked at me like I expected them to look. They just muttered words of relief and joy and glanced at one another with a great deal of thankfulness.
"She was pinned;' insisted Mr. Smith, who mu
st have told them that Mary, having been pinned under the automobile, could be in serious condition.
"Doc says she was lucky," I explained. "It was mostly the sleeve of her coat that was pinned to the ground. Oh, her arm is cut some-but it could have been bad-really bad."
There were murmurs again.
"Now, Josh, you just sit yerself right down here and drink a cup of coffee;' Mrs. Smith was saying. "You are 'most as pale as a ghost:'
All eyes turned back to me. And then the funniest thing happened. The whole world began reeling and spinning like you'd never believe. I felt myself a-reeling and spinning right along with it. But I didn't seem to be keeping up somehow-or else I was going faster. I tried to walk to the chair that Mrs. Smith had indicated, but my feet wouldn't work. Besides, the chair had moved. I didn't know what was happening to me.
I guess Uncle Nat caught me. I really don't remember. I came to my senses on Mrs. Smith's couch with Doc bending over me and a whole cluster of people hovering near. It took me awhile to realize what was going on, and then I felt like a real ninny. I mean, it was the girls who had been hurt in the accident and here I was doing the passing out.
I struggled to sit up, but Doc reached out a restraining hand.
"Take it easy, Josh," he cautioned. "You've been through quite a bit tonight."
Was it my imagination or was there a bit of a chuckle in Doc's voice? I remembered the scene that he had walked in on upstairs, and I felt my face flush. But no one else seemed to notice.
"Mrs. Smith is bringing some broth and crackers," Doc said. "You probably didn't have any supper."
I refused to be fed like a child, though I did obey Doc and sat up slowly. Then I carefully spooned the broth with its crumbled crackers to my mouth. My head soon began to clear and things came into focus again. With the return to awareness came the recollection of my recent discovery, and I could scarcely conceal my excitement.
As soon as I was able to convince Doc that I could walk a straight line, I stood to my feet.
"Can I see Mary-the girls-again?" I asked.
"Matilda is already sleeping-and Mary might be, too. I gave her a little medicine to help. You can peek in on her-but just for a moment. You hear?"