Her eyes narrowed as she squinted into the sun. Had he removed his shirt? Lester’s red flannel that Chris had worn fluttered in the breeze, hanging on the fence. He was pounding a hammer against one of the boards, and the post looked a lot straighter.
Frannie shook her head. She went to the house to get the water bucket on the porch, then filled it at the well. How often had she wished Lester would have installed a pump leading into the kitchen? Carrying water into the house was becoming more difficult each day. She set the pail on top of the counter and reached for a tin cup, dipping it into the water. After taking a quick drink, she carried the cup outside.
Chris glanced up from his work when she arrived at the pasture. His skin glistened in the sun. Frannie forced her eyes on his face rather than looking at his chest. She’d already seen much more of him, and the memory made heat creep up her cheeks. If he remembered that he’d stood in the nude when she’d walked into the bedroom several days ago, he didn’t let on.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the cup she held out to him.
“Should you be working so hard already? You’re barely recovered.”
He smiled, swiping his hand across his forehead. “It feels good to be doing something. It’s been a long time.” His face sobered, and he stared off into the distance. Abruptly, he turned his head back to her, and his smile was back.
“I should be asking you the same question. You should be off your feet in this warm weather. There’s a nice porch swing you could sit on and relax a while.”
Frannie stared at him for a moment, then blinked. He was doing it again, telling her she was doing too much work.
“I’m not used to sitting around, being idle.”
Chris stared at her belly. “You’ll have plenty to do when your baby arrives. Might be nice to take it easy for a while before that happens.”
“I won’t do anything that could harm my child. So far, I’ve managed.”
Having Lester gone had already been a big relief. She still had plenty of work to do, but the constant fear that it wasn’t enough or she wasn’t moving as quickly as Lester had liked, had started fading away over the last few days.
Chris’s jaw visibly tensed. His smile became forced. “Yeah, I can see that you care deeply for your baby.”
Frannie’s forehead scrunched. “Why wouldn’t I? What mother would want to do harm to her unborn child?”
Chris tossed the hammer he held in one hand into the weeds. He braced his arm against the fencepost, and leaned his head against it, dropping his gaze to the ground. Frannie’s eyes rested on him. She took a tentative step forward, reached her hand out, and touched his arm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say something to upset you.”
When he lifted his head, the pain and anguish she’d seen on more than one occasion was back. This time, it was displayed through clear eyes. Frannie swallowed. She shouldn’t pry, but curiosity finally won over.
“Who is Amber?” she whispered.
Chris stared at her, still holding on to the fence post. The muscles along his jaw and neck tensed even more. His hand curled into a tight fist. Frannie held her breath. She shouldn’t have asked, and was about to apologize for being forward, but he spoke first.
“Amber was a mistake I made.” He scoffed. Standing straighter, he raised the cup to his lips and drained the last of the water.
Frannie waited. If he wanted to say more, she wasn’t going to press him. Finally, he looked at her. Frannie gazed into the eyes of a deeply troubled man, and her heart went out to him.
“She was my girlfriend. I guess in this century you’d say she was a woman I was courting. At first, we got along fine. We had a good time together. As the months went by, I realized we weren’t right for each other. We were looking for different things.”
Frannie listened quietly. Chris was struggling with the words, and the way he phrased them was unfamiliar, but the meaning wasn’t too difficult to guess.
“I was getting ready to tell her we might want to go our separate ways, but she beat me to it.” His features hardened at that moment, and a bitter, almost icy glare passed through his eyes. “She called and told me she didn’t want to see me anymore, and by the way, she was pregnant.” He kicked at the dirt on the ground. “Just a passing mention, as if it wasn’t important.”
Frannie’s mouth opened. She forced it closed again. A scandal like that wasn’t uncommon, but most couples usually remedied the situation by marrying quickly. The thought that Chris was another woman’s husband sent a twinge of jealousy through her. She shook her head at the surprising emotion. If he had a wife and child waiting for him somewhere, she should be happy for him, not have selfish thoughts.
“I’m sure your wife and child will be glad to have you back safe and sound.” She forced a smile.
Chris let out a bitter laugh. He stared at her. “I don’t have a wife, and I certainly don’t have a child.” The words sounded forced, as if they left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“But I thought you said–”
“When I told her we’d make it work, she said she wasn’t ready to get married.” Chris’s voice rose in anger. “I told her we’d figure it out and I’d take responsibility. But she didn’t want anyone telling her what to do.”
Frannie’s hand went to cover her mouth. “She was willing to live with the scandal of being an unwed mother?”
Chris laughed again. His chest heaved as he inhaled a deep breath. “You’re clearly from another time, Francine, and so am I. How do I put this nicely so you’ll understand? Amber didn’t care that she was pregnant. I wasn’t even aware how much she drank, and I had no idea she was into drugs.” He ran a hand through his hair and scoffed. “She had no regard for the child she was carrying, and went on a drinking and drug binge with her friends after she told me the news.”
“I don’t understand.” Frannie shook her head. Even so, a sinking feeling of foreboding crept through her.
Chris spun on his heels and started pacing the fence. “At first, I didn’t know what to do after she hung up the phone. I reached for a beer bottle, drained it, and then another, letting what she told me sink in.” He laughed bitterly. “Drinking and waiting was my first stupid mistake. She called me a few hours later, high on drugs, and asked me to come and get her. My truck wouldn’t start, so I called my friend, Eric.” He blinked several times and swiped his hand over his face before continuing.
Frannie stood by while he paced, talking to himself, clearly reliving the horrible day. His actual words made little sense.
“Eric came and we drove to Amber’s place. I was going to take her to the hospital,” Chris continued. He didn’t look at her, but at something off in the distance. Was he even aware she was standing right in front of him?
“We never made it. Eric didn’t tell me he’d come from a party, too, and had a few drinks. He came because I’d called him and asked for his help. He was doing me a favor. He was my best friend, and I lost him, when the car spun out of control. He swerved to avoid hitting an animal in the road. He didn’t have that much to drink, but the official report says the accident was because he was drunk.” His body tensed. “I’m the one who should have died, not Eric.”
Chris looked at her at that moment, swiping a trembling hand across his face. “I never told his family that he wasn’t simply out drinking and driving. He was trying to help me get to my ex-girlfriend, because I was afraid of what she might do next. Later, when I woke up in the hospital, I found out that she’d had a miscarriage.” He stared down at her through tear-filled eyes. “She lost the baby.”
Frannie reached out to him. The pain in his eyes and in his words brought tears to her own eyes. He’d lost so much, and he blamed himself. Chris stiffened, then came to her. She touched his arm, looking into the eyes of a man who’d experienced a great loss, and when he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, she didn’t resist the unexpected move.
She stood and touched her hand to the back of
his neck, stroking his head. His body trembled, and Frannie stood there, offering what little comfort she could.
Chapter 9
Chris draped his forearms over the fence and rested one foot on the bottom rail, gazing out at the sun rising over the tops of the hills in the distance. Two of the horses grazed at the far end of the pasture, the mist that hovered close to the ground giving them the appearance of dark apparitions rising out of the earth. The mare, Brownie, and her three-year-old colt grazed closer along the fence line.
The rambunctious young horse liked to play, but his mother pinned her ears at him every time he came too close. This mare clearly had to have been bred sometime this year, otherwise she would have come in season by now with the young stud colt constantly nearby.
Chris smiled. There was nothing better than a pregnant mare to teach a young colt manners. It was a favorite saying of his father’s, and at the ranch in Montana, the three-year-old colts were often turned out with the mares that had been bred for the year.
He turned away from the fence, glancing toward the little farmhouse about a hundred yards up the dirt lane. Drawing in a deep breath, Chris took in the rich scent of damp grass and earth. The odor of cow drifted from the barn. The rooster crowed in the coop with the chickens, no doubt demanding to be let out. Raised in the country on a sprawling horse ranch, he’d grown up with these sights and sounds, but for some reason, they seemed more intensified here.
Chris headed for the barn. Time to let Blanche out into the pasture to graze with the horses. He’d already milked her a while ago, something he hadn’t done since handling cows at the county fair as a young kid. He’d carried the fresh milk to the spring, exchanging it for the jug from yesterday, which he’d set out on the porch. It’s what Francine had done yesterday to separate the cream from the milk. She’d told him that whatever she didn’t use, she’d feed to the chickens later.
Stepping lightly, he still favored his injured leg, even though it was purely out of habit. The pain in his knee was completely gone, except for some stiffness first thing in the morning. He should have listened to the doctors who’d repeatedly warned him about getting addicted to the pain meds. He should have known better. He was a second-year med student at Texas A&M University, but nothing had mattered after the accident.
He’d missed a full semester at this point and hadn’t thought about school in a while. His parents had urged him to come home to Montana to heal, but he hadn’t listened to them, either. His entire life had been off-kilter since Amber’s announcement, and then dealing with the guilt and grief of Eric’s death and recovering from his own injuries.
Then he’d ended up here, something he still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around. No doubt he had time traveled, an idea straight out of a science-fiction movie, and there was only one person who could answer how it had happened. He should have left this farm days ago, to seek out Cissie Durham and get some answers, as well as a ticket home, but here he was, in no hurry to leave.
Chris chuckled. He’d ended up in the past for some unknown reason or purpose, and his life had taken a surprising turn for the better. Two days ago, he’d lost it after telling Francine about Amber. In her usual quiet way, she’d let him break down right in front of her, and he hadn’t cared that he looked like some sappy little kid. Truly letting his emotions take over was something he hadn’t been able to do until that moment. All he’d done before was get angry, and then had avoided thinking about his loss at all cost by taking pain pills.
Francine hadn’t judged. She’d simply listened, and she’d been his rock, holding him when he’d needed her. The connection he’d felt to this humble girl from a simpler time had been unlike anything words could describe. He’d held her as close as he could, with her pregnant belly between them.
At one point, he’d even felt her baby kick against his own abdomen. When it was over, she’d simply smiled and told him she’d let him get back to work, without asking or saying anything else, giving him time alone. In the last couple of days, she hadn’t brought up the incident at all. She seemed to always know exactly what he needed, and what was best for him.
After letting the cow out to pasture, Chris opened the chicken coop, and a couple dozen eager hens rushed out to start pecking and scratching in the dirt and along the pasture fence for bugs and worms. He gathered what eggs he could find, making a sling out of his shirt to hold them all, and headed back to the house.
Hopefully, Francine would still be asleep. She deserved it. He’d never before seen anyone work as hard as she did. If she were to lift her skirt and show him her ankles at day’s end, there was no doubt they’d be swollen. At least for the next day or so, he’d get some things fixed up around this place to make things easier for her.
“Thank you again for fixing the fence,” she’d said during an awkward supper two nights ago.
“Least I can do for what you did for me.” Chris had looked at her across the table. “There are many more things that need to be fixed around here. You need help, Francine. You can’t do all this on your own, even if you didn’t have a baby on the way.”
She hadn’t looked at him directly. “I’ve told you, I will manage, somehow.”
Chris hadn’t argued. Respect for her grew, along with something else he couldn’t allow to let happen. He was starting to have feelings for her, and they were different than what he’d ever felt for Amber, or any other girl he’d dated.
You sure it’s not because she’s pregnant, and you confused her with Amber at some point?
Francine was nothing like Amber. She was quiet and responsible, and serious, and caring. Amber was immature and impulsive, the kind of girl young guys liked to date because they weren’t afraid to have a little fun. A little fun had gotten him into a whole lot of trouble, and it had cost his best friend’s life, and was something that would haunt him forever.
Over the next couple of days, Chris had worked on putting up stakes for Francine’s beans in her garden, and mucked out the cow’s stall in the barn. He’d turned over the compost pile so she’d have good soil for her garden later in the year, and fixed a couple of loose boards in the barn. Farm work was nothing new. He’d done plenty of it while growing up, but it would be a whole lot easier with some modern equipment.
When he’d come across an old buckboard behind the barn, he’d inspected it and determined it needed a good coating of grease on the wheels, a couple of new boards for the seat, and the tongue needed to be replaced. Whether he was capable of fixing it properly remained to be seen. He’d worked on it yesterday, and planned to do some more today.
“Will you be staying another day?” Francine had asked again yesterday morning after breakfast.
Had there been a pleading look in her eyes, almost as if she’d wanted to tell him not to go? She was understandably scared of being alone, especially with a baby on the way, but she was also stubborn and proud.
“It should take me a day or so to get the wagon repaired and at least in working order. I’ll feel better if you have transportation into town before I leave.”
What he hadn’t told her was that it was merely an excuse to stay longer. While she was better off without her husband, she’d never make it on this farm on her own. Chris had to get back to his time and face reality, but for a few days, it was nice to simply forget his problems and live in a different time, and in the process, help the girl who’d done so much for him.
The thought that he couldn’t get home, that his trip through time was one-way only, was a nagging possibility, but until he spoke to Cissie Durham, he wasn’t going to waste time thinking about it. His only regret, if he was stuck in this time, would be not talking to Eric’s parents.
He hadn’t seen them since before the accident, and Eric’s father had always been angry with him for drinking too much and being irresponsible. They deserved to know that their son hadn’t been irresponsible that day. They needed to know the truth – that Eric had come to Chris’s aid to help him try to save a life.
Chris entered the house as quietly as possible. There was no sound coming from the kitchen to indicate Francine was awake. It would do her some good to sleep a little longer. He set the eggs in the basket she kept on the counter, then rummaged through the cupboards for a bowl and some spoons. The slab of salted pork he’d brought to the house earlier would fry up nicely.
He checked the fire he’d started in the stove when he’d first gotten up, and added some more wood. He’d watched Francine do it yesterday, and it seemed to be a chore that was done early in the morning. He set a cast iron frying pan on the stove, and added slices of the meat. He wasn’t the best cook in the kitchen, and without an easy way to control the temperature, it might be a challenge, but it couldn’t be that hard. It would be nice to surprise Francine with breakfast.
The meat began to spit and sizzle loudly, splattering grease in all directions. Chris pulled his arm back several times as he tried to stir the meat with a long-handled spoon, cursing under his breath each time a hot drop of oil hit his skin. When the pork began to darken at an alarming rate, he grasped the handle of the pan to move it to a cooler area of the stove. Pain instantly seared through his hand and he dropped the skillet. It hit the top of the stove with a loud clank, spilling grease over the hot cooktop.
“Damn,” he hissed, shaking his burned hand. He glanced at the angry red skin on his palm, then stuck it in the bucket of water on the counter, gritting his teeth. Meanwhile, the meat in the pan continued to sizzle, and the grease burned on the stove, sending up plumes of smoke that created a haze throughout the entire kitchen. Chris coughed, waving a hand in front of his face.
“What on earth is going on here?”
Chris turned toward the shocked voice of Francine, as she entered the kitchen, her eyes wide. She waved her hand in front of her face, then stared from him to the stove.
“I was trying to fix breakfast,” Chris choked.
Timeless Healing (Timeless Hearts Book 4) Page 8
