Katherine wasn’t certain she could extend that kind of grace. When she closed her eyes, she saw the roof collapse on her husband. Every time she closed her eyes.
How could she move on? How could she forgive?
* * *
Would Wyatt ever return to full health? How long must he suffer with this leg?
He should be thankful that it carried him out of the burning house. That he was alive.
Still, he couldn’t help but bemoan the weeks of infirmary he had endured. And the burden it had placed on Katie, leading to the premature labor.
All that worrying.
And, finally, he begrudged his inability to get them away from danger quicker.
Yes, it all fell on him.
Katie worked over him even now. She cleaned his wound and changed the bandage. Her full midsection made her efforts all the more difficult.
She shouldn’t be taxed with such. This was his job—seeing to the wounds of the town, the ills, the ailments. But he hadn’t been much good for anyone lately, least of all his family.
He tensed as she tightened the cloth around the reddened, sore mid-calf.
“Did I hurt you?” Her eyes flashed to his.
“Don’t worry. It is only a bit tender.” He examined her from the top of her head down. Was he now no more than a cripple to her? Someone she had to care for?
He caught himself. That line of thinking wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Besides, he knew better. She loved him. Truly. And while she tended to him now, he had cared for her only days before.
There was, after all, a give and take.
In his heart, he found that he didn’t like this aspect of marriage as much. He wanted to provide her with his strength, his know-how, and his abilities. Let her lean on him.
God, apparently, had other plans.
She ran her hands over the bandage, perhaps checking the firmness of the wrappings. “Did you hear about Jonas?”
Who had told her? Was there no end to the burdens she carried? Wyatt laid back. “Yes.”
As for himself, he had not received the news well. But his heart was torn. How far could a man be pushed before falling off the precipice?
Katie’s labor had only just begun before he stopped it, saving her and their baby. Still, it had ripped Wyatt to emotional shreds. What would he do if it happened again? If it couldn’t be stopped and he lost her? And their child?
What if he’d trusted another doctor and that man couldn’t save her? Wouldn’t he be angry? Wouldn’t he seek vengeance?
He would make certain that Jonas answered for his crimes. But in the midst of it all, Wyatt’s heart hurt for the man’s loss, and he knew he would be able to release this anger.
“And you lay here as if I told you he cheated at a horse race.” Her face colored. Was she so angered?
Wyatt caught her hand and pulled her closer. “If you think I was not every bit as ready to exact my own brand of justice upon the man for what he did, you are wrong. I did want to hurt him. Badly.”
Her eyes welled.
“But then I let my heart talk to my brain. He is a wayward soul, a marred soul. And he seeks something he cannot have—restitution. As if that will make what happened all right. Can you not see that?”
Katie sniffled. Her eyes glazed with moisture. Then her features twisted. “I am not so ready to absolve him.” She turned, jerking her arm from him.
He did not release it. “Neither am I, Katie.”
Her struggle to pull away halted, but she would not face him.
“Jonas will have his day with the judge. And he will answer for what he has done. But I refuse to become him in the process.”
Katie’s other hand pressed to her face.
“Please…” he spoke, his words soft. “Come here.”
She turned, her face a mess of tears and wayward emotion. “I don’t know what to feel. What to think.”
He tugged at her hand once more.
She required no further encouragement to lay beside him.
As she settled, he gathered her in his arms.
He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s ask God what He thinks.”
* * *
Christmas was less than a week away. Katherine moved about the clinic. But instead of medicinals, she shifted through boxes of decorations.
Wyatt managed to make it down the stairs. Though he still had the cane, it marked a big step forward in his recovery.
Katherine afforded him a nod and a smile. “Glad to see you up and about.”
He nodded.
Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she dug into the crate on the exam table. Hadn’t she seen that red ribbon in here? Perhaps it sank to the bottom.
“What’s all this?” He waved a hand over the room.
“I’m behind in getting the final touches on the church.” She continued to search, not taking even a moment to look at him.
“Katie.” His voice was flat. Was he unsettled?
She glanced up at him. “Yes?”
He stared at her, his eyes widening.
She met his gaze, equally intense. What did he intend? Was she not managing as he expected?
“You don’t mean that you still intend to decorate and make merry?” he said, a bit loudly and abrupt.
Her brows furrowed. He couldn’t mean it. She had to finish the task set before her. So many people relied on her. And what would the holiday be without proper decor and organized festivities? “Of course. It’s Christmas.”
He stepped closer. “Christmas? I thought we agreed we didn’t need all this,” he said as he grabbed for a piece of garland from the nearest crate and held it up, “to celebrate. That we need only our family…together. A day of peace to recognize Christ come to earth.”
Her gaze flitted over the boxes. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without these things, would it? “But the town expects a church warm with green holly and red ribbon and—”
“I don’t care what the town wants. The only thing I care about is your well-being.” He was in her face now.
Heat stirred within her. “As you see, Dr. Sullivan.” She clutched the crate, balancing it from underneath. “I am well enough.”
Grabbing for the box, he returned it to the exam table. “Not well enough to carry these around Cripple Creek, hanging things here and there, and wearing yourself thin.”
She hardened her gaze. “Are you telling me not to do this?”
Letting out a long breath, he said, “Katie, I think we are both on edge. Let’s take a moment and think.”
He was right. They should be like-minded and gracious with one another. She let her shoulders drop. “I agree. We are on the same team.”
He nodded.
Locking eyes with him, she turned her lips upward just a bit. How could she make him understand? “I just…have so much going wrong lately, I need to bring some yuletide cheer into this town. It is what they asked me to do.”
“That was before. No one will blame you if you put an end to all this and focus on your family. Sometimes, Katie,” he said, shuffling his feet and looking at the floor. Then he caught her gaze again. “I get the feeling you are trying to escape.”
“Escape?” Her hand flew to her chest. He couldn’t mean that.
“You have pretty high-minded ideas about people and what they will think about you. So you shove your own problems to the side, sacrificing yourself for that laud.”
Of all the…
“Wyatt Sullivan, you take that back.” She bit at her lip.
His thinned.
“That was just the meanest…” Pushing the crate farther away, she turned and walked out the door. She couldn’t take his hard words, or the reality of them, any longer.
* * *
How could these charred remains have been their home? The place where they became a family?
Wyatt stood in the space that was once between the barn and house, staring at the ruined shambles of memories.
But that wasn’t true.
>
He still remembered…so clearly.
Yes, he saw in his mind’s eye the evening they brought Jack and Susie home. to this house. And the days, the events that saw his and Katie’s relationship grow from contained animosity, denied attraction in reality, to love. A love so deep and so real it opened a part of him he never knew could exist again. The part that had been dormant from the wounds inflicted from childhood.
He prayed the hardships of these last weeks would not likewise stunt Jack or Susie. Why couldn’t he have protected them? That had been his promise. To himself. To Katie.
Looking toward the ground, he fought the voice that taunted, calling him a failure. Wouldn’t he prefer to lean on God’s truth? Wasn’t that what he had come to learn? That he was, in fact, powerless on his own? His only hope was in God’s plan and provision.
Footfalls behind him drew his attention from the disaster tearing at his heart.
He turned.
“The barn ain’t been touched.” Jack came up beside him.
Letting out a breath, Wyatt studied the structure behind him. He was thankful for that. The horses had been saved that night. And the efforts of the townsmen had been successful in sparing the barn.
But he couldn’t keep Jack’s gaze off the now unrecognizable house.
“What should we do, Pa? Is there’s anything worth saving?”
Wyatt frowned. There may be something here or there. Perhaps. But nothing would have escaped either flame and water. Probably both.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t. Sorry, son. I know you were hoping—”
Jack waved a hand. “It’s all right.”
Wyatt laid an arm on the boy’s shoulders. Though Jack had not voiced it, he knew the youngster had a few things he kept from his childhood to remember his birth parents.
Why he felt he couldn’t share that with Wyatt, he didn’t know. But he would give Jack space to reveal it in his own time. Still, the loss of those things may very well bring on a grief for his parents that he had not quite known.
Jack sniffled.
Wyatt gripped his shoulder. “It’s hard, I know.”
The boy nodded.
“But we choose how we see this.” Wyatt scanned the rubble once more.
He sensed Jack’s eyes on him. Looking over, he met the boy’s confused gaze.
“Life is full of endings. But it’s also full of beginnings. We can choose to focus on this as an ending. Or think of it as a beginning.”
Jack shifted his focus to the remains of the house. Was he considering Wyatt’s words?
A stillness fell between them in that space. It was pleasant. Peaceful.
Jack broke it. “Kind of like an adventure.”
Wyatt moved his hand to rub the back of the boy’s neck. He would do what he could to keep their eyes turned toward the future. To focus on what would be, not what was. In order to do that, he must set his heart and feet to do so first.
The baby would be here soon. And he or she would usher in a fresh start of a new kind. Their family would change. Forever. Their roles would all change, if only a bit.
Wait…
Didn’t Jack say the barn was untouched?
“Jack, there was no damage in the barn?” Wyatt looked at his son.
“No. I didn’t see any.”
Wyatt turned and walked, somewhat awkwardly to the large, red structure.
Jack caught up to him easily. “What is it, Pa?”
How could Wyatt have forgotten it? He made his way to the far corner, maneuvering past the stalls, around the mess, and to the old farming implements—the long-forgotten corner.
“What do you need with this stuff?” Jack stood beside him.
Wyatt glanced at him. And smiled. “I have a surprise.”
The boy’s forehead creased.
“But I think I’ll need your help.”
Chapter 8
Once Upon a Christmas
Katherine stared at the wooden cross, fixed on the back wall of the church. She couldn’t help but cringe at the complete lack of decoration around her. Had she failed? Or had God failed her?
That didn’t seem an entirely appropriate thing to think.
Was it acceptable to question God?
She stood from the pew she had taken refuge in about halfway down the aisle. Sliding into the walkway between the rows of benches, she let her senses take in the church, its serene and humble atmosphere.
The people who came week after week did not come because they lacked hope. No, they believed, they trusted in a God who could save them. Who cared about them. Didn’t she?
She thought she did.
Believed she did.
But now…
Her steps took her to the altar. She ran her hand along its surface—smoothed with time and the many who had knelt there and beseeched the Lord.
Dare she?
Adjusting her skirts and her larger stomach, she dropped to her knees. And prayed.
About Wyatt, the house, her children, the baby…
But her thoughts drifted often and her prayer felt forced. Because God wasn’t there? Or because she had been cut off from Him?
Letting out a breath, deeper than she’d had in a while, she sought not the cross, but her own heart. Her stance became not that of a folded-hands, straight-backed, pious seeker, but she hunched over the top of the altar.
Where did her heart lie?
She remained. How long, she did not know. Her knees ached and her back muscles spasmed.
Pushing up from the altar, she stood. Her whole body had become stiff. She stretched. That did not provide much relief to her back. Strange, it seemed her lower back hurt the most.
Lifting her eyes once more to the cross, she frowned. It seemed He would not move in her this day. Would not confirm His presence in her or in this place. Had it all been something she’d conjured?
She didn’t wish to believe that. But, how did she get here—house gone, overstretched, overwhelmed, and ready to give up? If God loved her as He promised…how did she end up here?
Turning, she grimaced and put a hand to her lower back. How was it that the pain could intensify? She must have truly kinked something.
Taking in as much of a breath as she could and forcing it out, she relented.
If these were the tidings she received preceding a day of celebrating His Son’s arrival, perhaps she shouldn’t be so concerned after Christmas either. After all, hadn’t she endured enough? And if the town wanted someone to care, they needed to find that person. Because she didn’t. Not anymore.
She straightened her shoulders and took the steps that would remove her from this place.
Sharp pain flared through her lower back. It took her breath away. She grabbed the edge of a pew to keep upright.
Was something wrong with the baby? This didn’t seem right.
Wyatt.
She had to get to Wyatt.
The pain struck again, forcing her to her knees as she cried out, her voice echoing in the empty building.
Why? Why had she come alone?
Her breaths came in heaves now. Sweat covered her face. Where was Wyatt? How could she find him?
A rush overcame her—something was about to happen. But what? There was a release, a rupture of some sort. And warm liquid ran down her legs. A lot of warm liquid.
What was it? Blood? Was she losing the baby?
Sensation flashed through her body. She trembled and shook. Her body had become weak. So weak. Could she make it to the door? Could she even stand?
Then another pain hit. More intense. Like fire.
* * *
Wyatt covered the precious, now completed cradle. It sat in the corner of Jack’s makeshift bedroom above the clinic.
“Thanks for your help,” he said to David. “Glad you were headed our way.”
David’s gaze remained on the gift, now indistinguishable under the blanket. Was something on his mind?
Their interchange had been somewhat strained when
they crossed paths just moments ago on the main street. But Wyatt was sincere in his gratitude. Why did it seem David was none too happy about it?
But Wyatt wasn’t so daft. This tension was because of Jonas.
Did David feel responsible in some way? Or did he think Wyatt blamed him?
“David?” Wyatt tried, shifting so he faced his brother-in-law.
The other man neither moved nor acknowledged Wyatt’s entreaty.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I think we need to get something in the open.” He crossed his arms.
David sighed and dropped his head, now looking at the floor. “I’ve never been good at that kind of thing.”
“Me neither.” Wyatt let his gaze wander to the window. People milled about below, going about their lives. So fortunate.
David grunted.
“But your sister…” Wyatt turned his attention back to David, who raised his gaze at those words. “She has certainly worked hard to change that.”
The man, who knew as well as he did about Katie’s persuasive powers, smiled.
Wyatt lifted one side of his mouth. “Surely you know I wouldn’t hold another’s actions against you.”
David nodded and looked to the window again. “I believe that.”
What was this tension then? Why would David still act as if a gulf separated them?
Wyatt opened his mouth, but David spoke before he could.
“What of my own actions?” David’s gaze bore into Wyatt.
There was a moment of confusion, but it was fleeting. Wyatt wished it hadn’t been. Did he keep a record of wrongs? Against Katie’s family?
David referred to their heated conversation that evening after Katie went into labor. Wyatt remembered David’s insinuations, even outright accusations all too well.
He longed to speak of it all being forgiven. But was it? The quickness of the wrong coming to memory was not a good sign.
Wyatt swallowed. And continued to search for words both helpful and true.
“I had no right.” David’s voice shook, yet only just.
Christmas In Cripple Creek (Hope In Cripple Creek Book 2) Page 8
