A Place Called Home (22 page)

Maggie helped Christine drink a glass of water and then left to tell Mark his patient was awake.

Within minutes both Mark and Maggie were at her side. Christine, still drowsy, lay quiet as Mark checked her leg. It was tender and, he told her, not badly burned. As Christine began to come fully awake, many questions were coming to mind. Mark pulled the desk chair up to the head of the bed and sat down.

“Your leg looks good. The only thing I'm concerned with is your nose, throat, and lungs. You took in a lot of smoke, and I want you to stay in bed until I give you leave to get up. And no talking!”

“No talking?” Christine croaked, thinking of all the questions she had.

“Does your throat hurt?”

Christine knew what he was getting at and stubbornly refused to answer.

“Christine!” Mark's voice was very stern, and he sounded amazingly like Luke. “Does your throat hurt?”

Her jaw set, Christine gave him a short nod.

“Until it stops hurting, you are not to talk.”

“How am I to communicate?” Tears sprang to Christine's eyes, born of a sore throat and frustration.

Mark answered with his best bedside manner. “There will be someone here to check on you at all times.” She watched Mark produce a small pad of paper and a pencil from his pocket. “If you can't answer with a nod or shake of your head…” Mark tapped the pad and put it on the bedside table.

Christine was on the verge of telling Mark to take his orders and get out of her room, but she began to grow weary and she ached all over. Suddenly the fight went out of her and her eyes closed, not wanting to fight sleep or anything else.

Mark took Christine's sleep as a peaceful acceptance of her situation. Unaware of how far this was from the truth, he headed out to see what Mac and his brothers were finding.

Mark found Mac, Luke, and Silas, along with a few other neighbors, looking around the charred remains of the barn. There was talk of possible causes for the fire. The family was thanking the men who had carried water and soaked the ground surrounding the barn, seeing that the structure itself was going too quickly to be saved. It had been a small barn, and thankfully the closest building was well over a hundred feet away. But the water surrounding the barn had been an extra safety precaution.

When Luke found a moment with Mark, he asked about Christine.

“Her leg is in good shape but I think she's feeling pretty weak. She was asleep when I left her.”

“She sounded so hoarse last night. Will her throat be okay?”

“I've told her to be quiet until her sore throat is gone, but I think she'll be fine. She wasn't too happy with the idea of not talking.”

“Telling a woman not to talk is like saying ‘sic 'em' to a hound dog.” Both men laughed at this and started toward the house.

Close to an hour later, with everyone just finishing breakfast, Maggie came down to prepare a tray for Christine.

Christine, wrapped warmly in her robe, was sitting up in bed brushing her hair. She could hear voices downstairs and wondered what was happening.

Christine reached for her Bible but didn't open it. She leaned her head back against the oak headboard and began to pray. Christine told God what an awful patient she was. She was rarely sick, and when she was, she made herself miserable by fretting about things not getting done until she could be up and around again. She and Grandma Em worked so well together. Christine asked God to soon put her back on her feet so she could be of help again. Christine's prayer was interrupted when the questions she had had earlier that morning began to roll once again through her mind. They destroyed her peace and made her feel weary. Did the barn burn down completely? Where were the animals? Who was taking care of them? Did anything else burn? Was anyone hurt? Tears again filled Christine's eyes as in frustration she asked God to help her obtain some answers.

She was feeling sleepy again, and try as she might she couldn't stop herself from drifting off.

Less than five minutes passed before Luke came through Christine's door bearing a breakfast tray and a smile, only to find her sound asleep. She had scooted down a bit and was curled against her propped-up pillow. Luke adjusted the pillow
and covered her with the bedclothes, as Christine continued to sleep. He wondered if he would get to see her at all today.

As it turned out, he did not. When Maggie reported that she slept through lunch and on into the afternoon, Luke knew he had to get home. So with a final check on her he made his way home, hoping that tomorrow she would feel up to company.

Grandma Em's hands joined Christine's as she briskly rubbed her wet hair with a towel.

“We're both going to be in trouble when Mark finds out about this. If Joseph were alive, he'd take me to task.”

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but Grandma Em dropped the towel over her face. “I know, I know, your hair smelled like smoke and you couldn't stand it. There. Now, can you sit up for a bit longer?” Christine nodded. “Good, we'll brush your hair out while you sit in this patch of sunlight in front of the window.”

As Grandma Em brushed, she talked. Knowing that Christine was concerned about the animals, she started with them. “Caesar and Chester are fine. They're both out at Mac and Julia's. Belle and Betsy are at Mr. Turley's. And the hens I'm afraid didn't make it.” Christine turned to look at Grandma Em, but she only patted Christine's shoulder and went on. “The barn burned completely down, but nothing else was damaged and you were the only one hurt.”

The look Christine threw at Grandma Em told her she felt she was fine, but Grandma Em only ignored her. A few more strokes and she was done.

“Okay, back into bed. How about some lunch?”

“Gram!” A man's voice sounded at the bottom of the stairs.

“It's Luke. We're in trouble now,” Grandma Em said before she left the room.

“How's Christine? Can I go up and see her?” Luke spoke before his grandmother even hit the landing.

“She is much better. In fact, she was up this morning.”

“You mean she was out of bed? Why was she out of bed?”

“I'll let her tell you—I'm going to fix lunch.” Grandma Em went to the kitchen feeling like a coward.

Once upstairs, Luke knocked on the open door jamb and walked into Christine's room. She was sitting up in bed, looking content with a book in her hand. Christine watched as Luke took in the wet towels, hairbrush, and chair near the window. Next his eyes went to Christine's hair, still unbound and a little damp, falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

Luke's voice was calm and measured. “You got out of bed today against Mark's orders in order to wash your hair?” Christine nodded calmly.

“Why?”

Christine wrote and handed Luke the pad.

“It smelled like smoke?” Again, the calm nod. “You washed your hair because you didn't like the smell of smoke?” When Christine didn't answer but only looked at him, Luke opened up to a rare show of temper.

“That's ridiculous. Absolute foolishness. It's freezing outside and it's cold in these upstairs rooms. You had no business getting out of this bed.” Luke ranted on, but Christine had tuned him out and reached for the pad. She handed Luke one sheet of paper and smiled when he sputtered to a halt.

“Hush up, Luke,” he finally read out loud, his voice incredulous.

The two eyed each other for endless seconds before Luke spoke more to himself but still aloud. “How did your grandfather control you?”

“He didn't try.” Even though her voice was hoarse, Luke caught the underlying steel in her tone. He turned then and walked from the room, leaving Christine to wonder if he would ever be back.

Luke sat down at the kitchen table with a heavy sigh. “You shouldn't have shouted at her,” Grandma Em began.

“She deserves more than to be shouted at.”

“No, Luke, she doesn't.”

“You sound as if you agree with her getting out of bed.”

“I helped her wash her hair.”

“Why, Gram?” Luke asked in total bemusement.

Emily sat at the table with him. “Luke, try to see things from her standpoint. She slept yesterday away. She had had no news about the barn or the animals you know she cares for. The smell of her hair and sheets was making her sick to her stomach. She also feels much better, and I for one could not see standing on ceremony and waiting to ask Mark. So I grumbled at her and got her washed and back into bed as quickly as I could.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“She had written me quite a long letter full of questions and frustration. She was standing next to my bed when I woke this morning so she could deliver it personally. I told her Mark would not like it, but she was determined and I could not say no.

“I hope, Luke, that you won't let your pride punish both of you. Christine and I talked for some time this morning about why God would let this happen. I know it was hard for her not to have an answer land in her lap. She's also feeling good enough to be bored. If you are not going to stay, please go by Julia's and tell her Christine needs company.”

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. 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?”