Luke praised God daily for Christine's salvation and her interest in Christian growth. Grandma Em had told him that she and Christine studied together nearly every morning, and that Christine was an avid student.
Luke asked himself if he loved Christine. He just wasn't sure. Loving was risky business. His parents and grandfather had been most dear to him. It had not been the same relationship as husband and wife, but it was a painful loss nonetheless.
He was not worried that Christine was going to die, but she did live in Spooner. There was nothing stopping him from going to see her there, but the idea of not having her in Baxter really bothered him. He wanted a chance to get to know her and was not quite sure how to go about it.
If he found he loved her and she didn't return that love, the rejection would be bitter. On the other hand, if she fell in love with him and his feelings were not that strong, she would be hurt. Luke rebelled strongly against this idea. She had been hurt by too many people, and he was determined not to be one of them.
Luke had just arrived in town when he really began to listen to himself. He wasn't trusting God at all. He was worrying and fretting about something over which God had complete control.
Luke began to pray silently, his heart humbled before his heavenly Father. He confessed the pride he had felt when thinking he could deal with this issue without God's help.
A special peace stole over Luke as he communed with God. He asked God's help in obeying His will, come what
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may, and in listening to his own heart about Christine. Luke remembered what Silas had said: God won't hide His answers. If God wanted Luke and Christine together, Luke would eventually know it.
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The first hit of cold air took her breath away as Christine stepped from the warmth of the kitchen. She shivered a little as she walked to the barn. The door was kept closed in this weather, and when Christine got inside she lit a lamp to see.
"How's my sweet old Caesar tonight?" Christine said affectionately to this faithful old friend as she fed him. "Are you keeping warm out here? I'm afraid it's going to get much colder before we see spring." Christine stopped talking abruptly and stood still a moment. She thought she smelled smoke. Figuring it was from someone's stove, she went back to work with a shrug.
"You're going to get fat and lazy..." her words died off.
She did smell smoke. But where? Not until Christine stepped completely out of Caesar's stall did she see the cause.
The barn was on fire, over by the door. Christine did not panic but ran toward the blaze, stripping off her coat as she hurried.
With the coat she began to beat at the flames, but they were spreading quickly out of control. Feeling the heat on her face, Christine knew she had to get out.
The animals! Quickly Christine ran to Chester's stall. He had been strangely quiet tonight, Christine thought absently as she grabbed the scruff of his neck and began to pull. She knew opening the door would fan the flames, but she had no choice.
Throwing the door open, Christine ran out into the cold. Taking deep breaths of fresh air, she left Chester some ten feet away before running back to the barn.
Hesitating at the door, Christine could see that the flames had multiplied in those few seconds. Taking the hem of her skirt, she covered her face and charged back in.
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"Please, God," she prayed, "please let Caesar come willingly," knowing how fearful horses were of fire.
Once in the stall, Christine grabbed his halter and tried to move him. He tossed his head, his nostrils dilating as he inhaled the smoke. Trying to resist her, his eyes rolled fearfully in their sockets.
Thinking that an eternity of breathing smoke and praying had passed, Christine miraculously felt the horse back out of the stall.
"Thank You, God," she sobbed as she looked toward the barn door. The leaping flames made their passageway to safety small, but Christine determined to get Caesar out of the barn or die trying.
Caesar fought Christine as she pulled him along the alley between the stalls. Quickly losing visibility, Christine tried to coax him along with words, but her voice was choked off by the smoke.
The smoke nearly blinding them now, Christine began to feel dizzy and lightheaded. She felt her way along the stalls, silently pleading with God for strength.
Amazingly, the door was in sight! Fresh air! They were going to make it! Caesar picked that time to lunge for the door, knocking Christine against the wall. She felt the flames burn her ankle and calf. A quick turn and she was through the door, only to trip on the threshold. She put her hands out as the ground came rushing up to meet her, but suddenly strong arms were surrounding her, lifting her high against a solid chest.
Christine squinted up through painfully dry and burning eyes to see the clean cut of Luke's jawline above her. He looked down then, his features sharp with concern and then softening with tenderness as his eyes met hers.
It was the tenderness she saw there amid all the places she hurt. Turning her soot-blackened face into his coat and clinging with all her might, Christine began to sob.
She was still clinging to Luke and crying when she felt the softness of a mattress beneath her back. Luke laid her
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gently on her own bed and stayed bent over her. He realized, prior to this night, that he had never known the meaning of the word "fear."
Upon arriving and seeing the smoke, Luke had run to the backyard. His grandmother had just come out of the house and called to him that Christine was in the barn. Luke had thought his heart was going to stop.
"Luke?" Christine croaked in a dry cough.
"Shhh, don't try to talk. Gram sent a neighbor for Mark."
"The animals?"
"The animals are fine. Now, not another word."
"Please don't leave me." Again another cough seized her.
"Shhh," he said as he gently placed a finger on her dry lips. "I'm right here, I won't leave you." Luke attempted then to straighten away from the bed, but Christine grabbed frantically for him. He bent over her once again. "I'm just getting out of this coat. I'll be right here." Her eyes slid closed at his comforting words and she wondered if she had imagined the kiss she felt on her brow.
It could have been a minute or an hour later-Christine could not gauge-when she felt someone pulling her shoes off.
"Luke?"
"Luke is in the hall. He hasn't left you. Maggie and I are here to take care of you. When we're done, Luke can come back in." Mark's reassuring voice came from somewhere above her.
Christine lay still after that, only protesting when her ankle was touched. Gentle hands washed her and helped her into a soft, fresh-smelling nightgown. When a glass was held to her lips, she drank without question. The door opened and she heard Mark's voice. "You haven't much time before the powder does its job?5Before Christine could work through these cryptic words, Luke was back beside the bed.
Easing down on the bed beside her, Luke watched as Christine focused in on his face and smiled. Luke smiled
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back as he placed a hand on either side of her, knowing the medicine was taking effect.
Christine reached to the face above her and touched Luke's cheek. Her smile broadened when she realized he was really there.
"I'm here," he said softly. Christine's hand dropped to the front of his shirt, where she grabbed a fistful of material and hung on. "I have to go to sleep now." Her voice was slurred and she made no move to release him.
"All right, I'll see you in the morning."
Her eyes slid shut and Luke sat quietly a moment before Christine's eyes flew open again.
"Luke?"
"I'm still here."
"Do you like apple pie?"
"It's my favorite," he answered in bemusement, wondering what had brought this on.
Her eyes closing again, Christine let out a huge sigh. Luke sat with her long after her breathing evened out and the hand holding his shirt fell slack against h
er side. Luke found it hard to breathe when he thought of how close he had come to losing her. You didn't withhold your love from a person just because it might be risky. This was clear to him now.
"She'll be fine, Luke." Mark's voice spoke from the foot of the bed.
"What if she wakes in the night and calls for me?"
Luke loved the fact that she wanted him there. And soon he would tell her just how much he wanted to be there.
"Maggie is staying in the guest room just in case she wakes up, but it's not likely. She'll sleep through the night and you can come back in the morning. Your losing a night's sleep is not going to help anyone."
Luke nodded reluctantly and Mark moved toward the door.
Luke turned down the lamp until the room was bathed in a soft glow. Christine's head on the pillow was turned
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toward Luke. His eyes moved a final time over her lovely face. He bent and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Christie." Luke's words came softly as he sat, almost in wonder over the realization of the love he felt in his heart for this woman.
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For the second time in not many months, Christine awoke to find Maggie nearby. Gone was the fear of the unknown, replaced this time with just a calm security at seeing her familiar face.
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.
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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.^ut 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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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"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 1 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."