How did this woman know what she was feeling?
“I . . . had a similar experience.”
Whitney sucked in a breath and held it.
Ruth looked away. “I was sixteen. I was walking home to the farm, and a man rode up out of nowhere. He asked me for directions. I gave them to him, and the next thing I knew, he was off his horse and I was on the ground. Fortunately for me, my friend, Stan, was fishing nearby. He heard me scream and came to my rescue. But even though he wrestled off my attacker and tied him up for the sheriff to deal with, my scars remained.”
“What happened to the man who attacked you?”
It was a long moment before Ruth shook her head. “He said I’d . . . I’d . . . wanted his attention. That I was embarrassed when Stan came along, so I changed my mind—as women and girls were known to do. Nothing could be proved in court. It was my word and Stan’s against a man with powerful friends.”
Whitney hated how that made her feel. Helpless. Worthless. “No one cares. We’re just women. We mean nothing.”
“Well, I mean something to Stan. He is good to me.” She cleared her throat. “I just wanted you to know that I understand.”
“How long was it before you stopped looking over your shoulder?” The question was out before Whitney could stop it.
Ruth shrugged. “I still do.”
Whitney looked to the barn rafter. Would she have preferred false comfort over the truth? Maybe. But then again, no. She summoned her courage with a deep inhale and looked at Ruth. “Then how did you get . . . beyond it?”
“It was something Stan told me. ‘Don’t let that man have one more second of power over you.’”
Ruth was lost in her own story. “Stan was right. By hiding in my parents’ house, I was giving that man control over my life. My family didn’t really understand why it was so hard to move on, but they supported me. After years of working at it and praying about it, I finally felt strong enough to travel alone with Chris’s children.”
Whitney moved to one of the other dogs and scratched his ears. “My sisters say I’m cynical. I’m afraid this has only made that worse.”
Ruth reached out and patted Whitney’s arm. “A little cynicism is healthy. Especially after what you’ve been through. Were you . . . hurt in any way?”
Whitney rubbed the back of her head. “When I got out of his grasp, I fell backward and hit my head. It’s a bit tender, but I’ll be fine.” Those were the outward scars. The inward ones were too raw, too undefined to put into words.
Ruth’s small smile said she’d heard what Whitney hadn’t said. “Just remember that you have someone to talk to who’s been through it. If you ever need it.”
“As winter comes on we’ll keep the sheep penned up here and feed them hay and grain and other things they need.” Madysen showed Bethany around. For the last two days, the girl had been her constant companion. And she’d loved it. It hadn’t taken long for her younger siblings to carve out a place in her heart.
“We didn’t have sheep on our farm, but we did have chickens and cows.” The girl was tiny for her twelve years, but she was smart and observant. “I like working with the animals.”
“The sheep can be difficult at times. They aren’t the smartest of animals. I suppose that’s why the Lord so often spoke about us being like sheep.” Madysen pointed out into the pen. “I mean, just look. They’re outside in the cold and snow when they could be in here keeping warm. They’re free to come and go as they like, and yet there they are.”
“I like the snow, so maybe they do too.” Bethany grinned. “I’m looking forward to going on one of Whitney’s dog sleds. She said she’d take me sometime.”
“I’m sure she will, and won’t that be fun? I love riding on the sled with her. Let’s go check on the cheese. We’re making something Daniel called feta. It’s in the brining stage.”
“I like cheese, but Eli doesn’t. He likes meat.” Bethany tucked her hand into Madysen’s as they walked.
Emotions stirred that Madysen hadn’t felt in a while. She wanted to protect the sweet girl and keep her young and innocent forever. “We get plenty of meat too. Fish mostly, but often beef and musk ox, which is absolutely delicious. People do a lot of trading up here. Our native friends bring it to us sometimes in trade for eggs and milk. They bring us other things too. Dried salmon, berries, and vegetables they’ve grown. And sometimes seal, which I’m not at all fond of eating.”
Her younger sister scrunched up her nose. How cute! Havyn and Whit always teased her about making the same expression.
“Can I call you Maddy like the rest of the family does?” Bethany swung their arms as she stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake.
A day or so ago, that might have upset Madysen, but today it was endearing. “Of course. I’d like that.”
They checked the cheese and made certain nothing else was needed before heading back to the house. Bethany had grown rather quiet.
“Is something wrong?”
Bethany shrugged. “I miss Papa. I know he has to help Aunt Ruth find Uncle Stanley, but I wish he didn’t have to go. I’ll bet you miss him too since you just found out he wasn’t dead.”
Discussing Dad wasn’t her first choice, but what could she do? “I’m still trying to . . . handle what happened.”
“You mean that he was alive and lived with us?”
The light snow that had been falling since dawn grew heavier. Good thing she started early on her chores. Still, a part of her wished she could dismiss Bethany and go off to do something more.
“I won’t lie to you. You’re twelve and old enough to know that lies really hurt people.”
“But Papa said he thought it was best for everyone. He knew he’d made his family miserable by drinking all the time.”
Madysen looked away. At least he hadn’t tried to hide that truth from them and make himself sound like he’d been the one wronged. But Bethany probably knew nothing about Granddad’s part in it. Which raised up a whole different swirl of emotions in Madysen. Why didn’t she feel as angry toward Granddad as she did Dad? Granddad had been more deceptive. He had instigated the entire lie about Dad being dead, but for some reason, it was easier to forgive Granddad than her father.
Later that night, Madysen couldn’t get rid of the question. Outside was clear, and the stars shone from every corner of the sky. She loved to stare at them, but tonight it couldn’t calm her spirit.
Despite the colder temperatures, Madysen took a seat on the porch swing. She could hear the others laughing and talking inside the house. Everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun with the game John started.
The door opened and Havyn came outside. “I thought I saw you come out here. Aren’t you cold?” She pulled a heavy wool shawl around her head and shoulders.
“I’m warm enough for now.” Madysen patted the swing. “Can I talk to you?”
Her sister laughed. “Of course. Isn’t that what sisters always do?”
Where should she start? “Well . . . after I got the kids settled in Mama’s room that first night, I was overcome with emotion, and I ran off to the sheep kitchen. Daniel was there. . . .”
“Oh?”
“Promise me you won’t be critical?”
Havyn crossed her heart. “I promise. I’ve never meant to be critical, Maddy. I’m sorry.”
“You have to promise that you won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Madysen.” Havyn gave her a pointed look. “Seriously? This is me. The sister who keeps all the secrets.”
“I know, I know. This is just awkward. . . .” She looked down at her hands. It would be so much easier if she had her cello and bow in her hand. That was when she felt the most comfortable.
“Go on. I promise I won’t say a word. Get it off your chest.”
“I’ve been thinking that I might be in love with Buddy Merrick. I know for sure that I care for him. He comes to see me regularly, his faithful attention and sweet gifts make me feel special. He ticks o
ff everything on my list that I ever wanted . . . well, almost everything. Plus he promises adventure and plenty of stages to perform on . . .” The words fell flat and hung in the air.
“But?”
Madysen took a deep breath. “But when I was so upset, Daniel held me while I cried. He’s been such a good friend to me. And . . . I felt new things for him. Intense things. Things I haven’t felt with Buddy. I’m so torn, Havyn. I want to stay in Alaska and be here with all of you, but with Mama gone and Dad back, it all just feels so strange. And then there’s my dream of performing and honoring Mama. What do I do?”
Havyn lifted her face to gaze at the stars. “That’s a question only you can answer, Maddy.” She turned toward Madysen. “Love shouldn’t be taken lightly. Yes, Buddy has been very sweet and attentive to you, but do you feel toward him what you should feel toward a husband? Or is it simply that the idea of marriage is appealing because he can give you what you want—a bigger stage to perform on?”
“Don’t we all want that?” Madysen spread her hands to encompass both Havyn and Whitney, who was still inside. “I thought you and Whit loved performing too.”
“We do.” Havyn’s face lit up in the moonlight. “The music is in our bones. But do you want to travel the world and be in a different place every couple of days just so you can play music? I know you pretty well, Maddy. You have a heart for people, especially family—”
“—and animals.” Madysen gave her sister a wry smile.
Havyn giggled. “What were we thinking, stealing those sheep? Whose idea was that anyway?”
“Oh, stop.” Madysen swatted her sister’s arm. “We gave them a good home.” Her laughter turned into a pinched feeling in her heart. Leaving her sheep wasn’t a pleasant thought, and leaving her family? The more she thought about it, the more it hurt.
“I think performing in a new city every few nights might be thrilling for a while, but you’d get tired of it pretty quick.”
Madysen tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know. I’ve thought of that. But then I get all excited about seeing audiences stand and applaud because they love my music. Grand stages and concert halls. It sounds very prideful, even to my own ears. But I must admit, performing without you and Whit . . . It wasn’t the same.”
Havyn reached out and wrapped an arm around Madysen’s shoulders. “Mama wanted us to use our talent to glorify God. I don’t remember that she cared about the size of the stage or the audience. I remember her caring that we did our best because we were playing for Him—and Him alone.”
Her sister was right.
Havyn shivered and tucked her hands under her shawl. “So now I’m going to ask the tough question. Have you prayed about it?”
“Humph. Daniel asked me the same thing. I’ve been planning to, just haven’t yet.”
Havyn laughed. “People often have plans that never come to fruition. You have to put them into action.”
She snuck a glance at her sister. “Mama used to say that to me every time I forgot a chore or something I was supposed to do.” Sweet memories washed over her.
“And your answer was always—”
“I was planning to,” they said in unison.
She looked at Havyn and laughed.
Now was as good a time as any. “Would you pray with me?”
“Of course I will.” Havyn took hold of her hand.
Madysen lifted her face to the sky and poured out her heart to the Lord.
Whitney buried her face in the pillow to muffle her moans. Her head felt as if it would explode.
“Whit?” Madysen opened the door to her room. “Whit, are you all right?”
“It’s . . . it’s just my head.” She began to sob. Which was the last thing she wanted. It made her head pound harder and—even worse—guaranteed that her sister wouldn’t leave her alone.
Sure enough, Maddy came into the bedroom. “It’s nearly dawn. I’m going for the doctor.”
“No.” Whitney closed her eyes against the exploding pain inside her head. “I don’t want anyone to touch me.”
“I know you don’t, but you must.” Madysen sat down on the edge of the quilted bedspread. “Something is terribly wrong. You must see a doctor.”
Whitney pressed her palms against her throbbing temples. “I can’t bear the pain.”
Madysen got to her feet. “I’ll get John. He can go, and Havyn and I will help you get through this.”
“Tell him . . . make him promise he won’t say what happened.”
Her younger sister nodded. “I’ll make him promise.”
Hours passed, or maybe it was only minutes, before John returned with a man Whitney had never seen before. She gripped the edge of the bedspread, pulling it tight against her chin. Her heart beat fast. As fast as if she were running beside her dogs. Even faster when he approached the bed where she lay helpless.
Why had she agreed to this? “No! Go away! I’m fine!”
“You don’t look fine.” The stranger took off his coat and draped it over her bedpost, as calm as though she’d invited him to tea rather than yelled at him. “I’m Dr. Peter Cameron. I understand you took a bad fall and hit your head. Sometimes the effects of such an injury don’t show up right away. I fell out of a tree once when I was a youngster, and for days I thought I was just fine.” He set his bag beside her on the bed and pulled out a bottle. “Could someone bring a pitcher of warm water and a basin?”
Whitney’s heart rate slowed a fraction. His casual nature and gentle tone were soothing.
“Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
Exactly? No! But neither would she lie. “I . . . I was working with my dogs . . . I raise sled dogs.” She glanced toward Madysen and John. “I . . . uh . . . I pushed away from something and . . . and . . . I fell backward. I hit my head, but it didn’t feel that bad.”
He nodded. “And where is the worst of the pain?”
She put her hand to the base of her skull. “It starts here and comes up over my ear. It doesn’t always hurt. It comes and goes.”
Havyn returned and handed a basin of water to the doctor. He took it from her and walked to the dresser.
Whitney watched his every move.
He placed the bowl to one side and poured water into it.
He took out a bottle from his pocket and poured some into the water and thoroughly washed his hands.
Deep breaths. The inevitable was coming. The man was going to want to touch her.
And she would have to let him.
He took the towel Havyn offered and walked toward the bed, drying his hands.
Whitney began to shiver.
“All right. I will need to feel your head. Do you feel good enough to sit up?”
Her head? Just her head? She could handle that much. She had to. She pushed off the pillow, careful not to disrupt his black bag.
He smiled. “Perfect.” He took the lighted lamp beside her bed and pulled it closer, waving it in front of one side of her face and then the other. Replacing the lamp on the nightstand, he held up his index finger. “Without moving your head, follow my finger with just your eyes.”
What kind of doctor was this man? She’d injured her skull, not her eyes. But he wasn’t touching her, so she obeyed.
Dr. Cameron dropped his hand to his side and smiled. “Very good. Now I need to feel your neck and skull.”
Whitney sucked in a breath and leaned away from him. Dr. Cameron never took his gaze from hers, his expression filled with compassion. He knew. She didn’t know how, but he knew. Had John told him? No, Madysen would have made him promise, and he wasn’t one to break his word.
The pain struck again and she grimaced.
Dr. Cameron lifted his hands slowly, like a horse trainer showing an unbroken stallion a saddle before daring to touch him with it. “I’m going to turn your neck back and forth, and you tell me if anything I do makes the pain worse or better.” But he didn’t move. Was he waiting for her to give him permission to touch h
er?
Whitney looked around the bedroom. Half her family was here. If this doctor, as comforting as he seemed to be, tried anything, John would drag him from the room and beat him to a pulp. She took a deep breath and prepared for revulsion. “All right.”
But when his touch came, it was so gentle that Whitney relaxed.
She cried out when he pushed her head toward her chin.
“I’m sorry.” He released his hold. “However, I believe I know the problem. You have what some call railroad spine.”
Whitney frowned. “What?”
“I know. There aren’t any trains even close by.” He smiled. A very nice, nonthreatening smile. “But people were often whipped around during locomotive rides, injuring their necks. Hence the name. When you fell, your neck snapped back and forth. There is now swelling, and that’s causing you pain.”
“What can be done?” John asked before anyone else.
Dr. Cameron straightened. “Many doctors would confine the neck, but I don’t believe that is in the patient’s best interest. I will prescribe some herbs that can be made into tea. This will help to relax the muscles and reduce the swelling. I will also give you a tonic I made from other herbs that will help when the pain is most severe. There are some plasters that can help if applied on the neck and some special massaging that will also ease the misery.” He looked at Havyn and Madysen. “I can show you how to manipulate the muscles for your sister.” He looked back at Whitney. “Lastly, there are stretches that you can do yourself.”
He raised his eyebrows. “In time your body will recover whether you do these things or not. However, you will heal faster if you follow my directions.”
The pain was already easing, as it always did after a while. Whitney closed her eyes for a moment and then met his gaze again. “I’ll do whatever I have to. I have a great many responsibilities to my dogs.”
The doctor nodded. “That’s right, you raise sled dogs. Do you sell them and teach others how to manage them?”
Whitney started to say no, but something about this man put her at ease. “I do. But I must warn you, I require a lot of training.”
Endless Mercy Page 21
