“Are you sure? It looks more like you’re trying to smoke us out of the house.”
She rushed to the stove, and using a towel to protect her hands, gripped the frying pan and moved it off the hot plate. The contents continued to smoke, but the sizzling quieted down. Francine opened all the windows in the house and then the front door while he stood there, nursing his injured hand.
How had something as simple as trying to fix breakfast ended in the house being consumed by smoke? Good thing there was no smoke alarm. Francine continued coughing while she rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers.
“You should go outside until the smoke clears,” Chris said, blinking at the burning sensation in his eyes. He reached for her arm. Whatever she was searching for could wait. “Breathing in all this smoke isn’t healthy for you.”
Francine grabbed for a small tin, then nodded, holding her arm over her nose. The smoke followed them all the way out to the porch, but at least he was able to take full breaths again.
Chris grinned. “So much for trying to show off what a great cook I am.”
He laughed out loud when Francine glared at him. Her skeptical look spoke volumes that she didn’t believe for a second he was being serious. Chris shrugged.
“If I had an electric stove, or an electric skillet, I could have done better. I’ve been known to produce a passable batch of pancakes every now and then, and I’ve never burned bacon before.”
She shot him a look that was all too much like his mother’s whenever she’d been displeased about something. “I think you ought to leave the cooking to me.”
“I think that’s probably the wise thing to do.”
His eyes wandered across her face, smiling at her. When her lips curved upward into a hesitant smile, he forced his hands to his sides or he might have reached for her and touched his fingers to her cheek. He blinked and mentally shook his head.
“Let me look at your hand.” Francine didn’t wait, but grabbed his hand that he’d kept fisted against his side. The burn was all but forgotten.
“It’s fine.” He glanced at his palm, where several splotches of red skin appeared.
“Burns need to be treated, Chris, or you’ll have limited use of your hand for days.”
She opened the tin she’d brought with her, and dabbed some ointment from it onto his hand. The soft touch of her fingers radiated up his arm. Francine stared up at him when Chris took a step closer and brushed up against her swollen belly. He swayed forward slightly, his focus on her full lips and mesmerizing eyes. Her body tensed, and she drew in a quick breath.
Chris straightened. He mentally shook his head and plastered a grin on his face to conceal the turmoil of emotions rushing through him. He stepped back slightly to put her at ease. Her eyes were filled with hope and longing, but a lingering hint of fear remained.
Had he really intended to kiss her? That would have been a big mistake. Chris cleared his throat.
“Seems like I need someone to look after me more than the other way around.”
She released his hand, then wrapped a cloth around it, tying the ends in a quick knot.
“You might be right about that. How did you ever get by in your future time?” Francine raised her chin and smiled at him.
Chris laughed. “I keep wondering that myself lately.”
He tore his eyes away, or he might do something stupid, like kiss her, after all. His gaze fell on the old shotgun that stood propped against the porch rail. There was the diversion he needed to get his thoughts under control. He pointed at it.
“Are you sure this thing is too old to shoot?”
Francine scrunched her forehead, looking at him with a puzzled frown.
“What if I clean it up?” he clarified. “Your meat’s almost gone in the spring house, and I just ruined a good piece of bacon. I used to go quail hunting with my dad when I was little. I bet I could shoot a few rabbits or some wild turkeys, if you have any in this area.”
Francine shook her head. “I don’t know where Lester kept the bullets. Besides, I don’t know if I can trust you with a gun, after what you did in my kitchen.”
Chris grinned again. Her playful, witty side was more than a little enticing.
“I promise, I’m a much better shot with a gun than a cook with a frying pan.”
Francine narrowed her eyes. “I think the house is aired out enough that it’s safe to go back inside.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “I’ll fix breakfast, and you’ll stay out of my kitchen.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Chris’s grin widened. He winked, prompting Francine to open her mouth, then scurry into the house. He chuckled after she disappeared inside. He hadn’t felt this light-hearted in more than six months.
He shook his head and reached for the gun. It was old and dirty, but it looked to be in good shape otherwise. If he could take it apart and clean it up, it would probably work just fine. He stepped off the porch, taking the old shotgun with him to sit under a tree near the chicken coop. He might as well get started while Francine fixed some breakfast.
The side plate would need to be removed to get at the lever. He cocked back the trigger to get a feel for how it would handle, held it up, released the trigger guard, then aimed and pulled the trigger. A shot reverberated off the henhouse, and several chickens squawked.
Chris jumped to his feet and dropped the gun. The loud, unexpected noise left a ringing in his ears. Francine had told him the thing didn’t work, and there were no bullets in it. A woman’s frantic voice called his name. He turned as Francine came running toward him from the house.
“What happened? Who was shooting?”
She held her belly while she ran, her skirt fluttering in the breeze. Chris held up his hand.
“It’s all right. The gun went off accidentally.”
Well, it hadn’t really gone off accidentally. He did shoot without checking to see if there were any bullets in the chamber. He’d simply taken Francine’s word for it. She reached him, out of breath and with a heaving chest. Her eyes were round as saucers.
“The gun went off? But, there weren’t any bullets. I thought –” Her head snapped up. “I could have killed you when I pointed that gun at you days ago.” She looked horrified.
Chris laughed. He reached for her hand to put her mind at ease. “Clearly, it still works, and there was at least one bullet in it.”
“I could have killed you,” she repeated, her voice trembling.
Chris tightened his hold on her hand, stepping closer. He looked into her fearful eyes, and offered a smile. “But you didn’t, and if it had gone off then, it would have been an accident. These things happen.”
She stared up at him. “Like the accident that killed your friend?” she whispered. “The one that wasn’t your fault, but for which you continue to blame yourself?”
Chris clenched his jaw. She was right. That car wreck could have happened at any time, and it was no one’s fault. Would it have happened had Eric been sober? Maybe not, but it wasn’t guaranteed. Nothing was guaranteed.
He tore his eyes away from Francine and looked to where he’d pointed the gun. The bullet had splintered part of the chicken coop. He squinted and took a step toward the damage.
“Looks like I’ll be fixing the henhouse, too,” he grumbled, then turned his gaze on Francine and grinned. He pointed to the ground a short distance from the henhouse. A chicken lay motionless in the dirt. “Maybe after you fix chicken for supper tonight. I told you I was a decent shot.”
Francine giggled. “You probably scared my hens enough to where they won’t lay eggs for days.” She raised her eyes to his as her face sobered. “And you scared me, too.”
Chris reached for her other hand, holding both in his. He took a step forward at the same moment she stiffened and let out a gasp. She pried her hands from his and clutched at her stomach. Chris’s forehead scrunched, and his heart began to pound.
“Francine?”
She looked at her stomach, then back up at h
im with wide eyes.
“The baby. I think the baby’s coming.”
Chapter 10
Frannie clutched her belly as pain ripped through her. Her heart sped up at the unexpected sensation. It was too soon. It seemed too soon. She’d marked off the days on a piece of paper, and it should be a few more weeks before her time.
“Are you having contractions?”
She glanced up into Chris’s anxious face. He gripped her arms, looking at her with fearful eyes. She nodded.
“I think so.”
She sucked in a quick breath as the pain intensified, then quickly subsided. Her shoulders relaxed, and she eased the air from her lungs through slightly parted lips.
“When did they start? Are you having pain in your lower back?” Chris fired off one question after another. His eyes traveled over her, resting on her stomach.
Frannie shook her head. This wasn’t something she should be discussing with him. It would be nice to have her mother here right now, or another woman, someone who had experience as a midwife. A shiver of dread rushed up her spine. Now that her time had come, the vulnerability of her situation and the responsibility of it all weighed on her, pulling her down like a rock sinking to the bottom of the creek.
“Let’s get you to the house. Take deep breaths.”
Chris nudged her forward. His calming words settled her temporary panic. She took a tentative step, then another, her knees weak and her lower limbs shaky. She couldn’t be having this baby right now, not with Chris present.
“Is the pain going away?”
She honed in on his voice as she walked to the house. The pain was gone, but what if it returned? Her body remained tense, anticipating another bout of labor pains.
“Yes, it’s gone.” Her voice sounded distant and weak.
“Are you ready to have this baby, Francine? If you let me know where everything is – clean towels, a tub . . .”
His voice trailed off and he ran a hand through his hair. Frannie glanced up at the sudden worried look in his eyes. He met her gaze.
“There are a lot of things we need to get ready. I don’t even know what sort of instruments you use in this time to tie off the cord.”
“Tie off the cord?” Her voice rose as she echoed his words. “You can’t help me birth this baby. You know nothing about it. You’re not a midwife or a doctor.”
Chris blinked, giving her a quick stare. He led her up the porch and into the house.
“And who else is going to help you? Have you thought of that? I’ve told you all along that you need someone, but you said you could do it all on your own. Right now, I’m the only person you’ve got to help you.”
His voice was strained, almost angry, and Frannie stared at the truth in his eyes. She wasn’t prepared for this at all. What had she been thinking? Lester would have been even less help than Chris.
Her tense muscles relaxed and her heart stopped pounding as if it was ready to jump from her chest. Chris was here, and willing to do whatever needed to be done to help her. She wasn’t alone. A warm feeling spread throughout her limbs and into her chest, settling in her heart. She wasn’t alone.
“You’re right.” She smiled. “I’m grateful you’re here, Chris.”
He returned her smile as he stood next to her in the kitchen. His hand rested against her back.
“Any more pain? Is your back sore?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’ll come back soon, I’m sure.”
Chris looked at her with a critical eye. “Have you had any back pains today, or yesterday, or any pain here, in your legs?”
He touched her upper thigh. Frannie took a step back at his unexpected intimate touch. She shook her head.
Chris smiled, reaching for her hand. “You’re right, Francine. I’m not a doctor and certainly not a midwife. I know very little about childbirth, but maybe enough to get you through this. Something tells me you were having false contractions, and unless you have another one soon, you’re not in labor.”
Frannie stared at him. For someone who said he knew very little, he seemed to know an awful lot.
As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I’m a medical student in my time.”
Her eyes widened even more. “A medical student. You’re an apprentice to a doctor?”
Chris chuckled. “No. It’s a little more complicated than that in the future. Medicine has advanced a lot. I’ve got a long way to go before I become a doctor, and I’m not even sure it’s what I want to do at this point. After the accident, and Eric’s death, nothing seemed to matter anymore.” He ran his fingers through his hair and turned his back to her for a moment. When he faced her again, his reassuring smile was back.
“Keep walking and see if the contractions come again. If not, it’s safe to say it was only practice for the real thing. And while you’re moving around, you can tell me where everything is that we’ll need, so we’re prepared.”
Frannie paced the kitchen and into the living room, calling out to Chris where she kept the clean linens she’d set aside for the birth, a washtub, some scissors, and string. Almost an hour passed, and there was no more pain. Chris had been correct, and these were false labor pains. Her mother had mentioned them once when Frannie had gone with her to witness the birth of a neighbor’s baby.
“Why don’t you sit for a while and put your feet up?” Chris suggested when she’d gone into the kitchen to finish fixing breakfast that had been interrupted when Chris had shot the gun. She might as well get a head start on supper preparations, too.
“You want supper tonight, don’t you?”
She’d lowered her head and faced the counter as heat crept into her cheeks. It would have never occurred to her to speak to Lester in such a teasing and carefree manner. Talking to Chris was like talking to a close friend. There was no reason to worry about getting yelled at, or worse. He listened to her, and bantered right back.
“If we were in my time, it would be easy to go out and pick up food that’s already prepared, then you wouldn’t have to cook.”
Frannie suppressed a smile at Chris’s grin and the quick wink of his eye. Happiness filled her like never before. This man was perfect in every way, which also made him too good to be true. He held fast to the belief that he came from another time. The way he talked, and the strange things he said at times made it almost real.
“You won’t stop insisting you’re from the future, will you?” She kept her face averted and her eyes on the potato she was peeling.
Chris stepped up beside her. He took the knife from her hand and held her arm, coaxing her to look at him. His playful expression from a moment ago was gone, replaced by a serious look.
“I come from the future, Francine.” His voice was even, and his brows raised as he looked at her. “I don’t know how or why, but there is one person who does know. I want you to come to Heartsbridge with me tomorrow so I can talk to Cissie Durham. Will you believe me if you hear it from her?”
Frannie stared at him. She believed him already. He wasn’t lying to her. There was no other explanation for his unusual behavior and strange words and phrases at times.
She swallowed back the lump that constricted her throat, and forced air into her lungs. Her throat hurt, and the back of her eyes stung. She was not going to cry in front of him. And, she certainly wasn’t going to ask him if he had any plans to stay. The answer was obvious.
Raising her chin, she forced a smile. “Yes, I’ll go to town with you tomorrow. The sheriff told me I have to sign some papers and take care of some business because of Lester’s death. It’s probably best to do it before the baby arrives.”
Chris looked pleased. “Then we’ll go into town first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll finish fixing the buckboard and that hole I made in the chicken coop.” He grinned. “If you need anything, or if you have any more pains, you call out, all right?”
Frannie nodded. The painful constriction in her throat prevented any more words. Chris ran his hand along her arm. Sh
e raised her gaze to look up at him. If he stood there much longer, her resolve to not cry in front of him would falter. Picking up the knife, she reached for another potato, dismissing the man who’d quickly taken over her heart. She’d barely known him two weeks, and now she feared the day he’d leave.
That day will probably be tomorrow, Frannie. There’s nothing you can do or say to keep him here. He has to return to where he came from.
Chris lingered for another moment as if there was something he wanted to say. Abruptly, he dropped his hand from her arm, and seconds later, the door squeaked open and closed. A sob escaped her throat. She’d held it in long enough.
The tears began to fall, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Leaning against the counter, she caressed her belly. If things worked out the way he hoped, Chris would be leaving the following day.
“We’ll manage, just as I planned before,” she whispered to her baby. “You and I will be fine.”
The baby kicked at that moment, jabbing a limb up under her ribcage. Frannie massaged the tender spot. Did her child know she was being less than truthful? She’d been so convinced she could make it on her own, so glad that she no longer had to be afraid of Lester. Then Chris had come along, and opened her eyes to something wonderful. Something that could never be, because they belonged in different worlds.
Frannie sat on the buckboard, the bouncing of the wagon sending jabs of pain down her back with every jolt. It would have been a lot easier walking to town than riding in this uncomfortable contraption.
Brownie and one of the other horses pulled the rig, jogging along the dirt road while Chris sat beside her, easily holding the reins in his hands. Frannie’s muscles tensed with each minute that brought them closer to town. She didn’t know anyone there. The people in town were all strangers to her. Lester had kept her isolated on the farm, and no one other than one or two of Lester’s friends had ever bothered to come and visit. Not that she could blame any of the decent folks. Lester would have chased them off.
“Sorry for the bumpy ride.” Chris glanced at her with a smile. “This old thing needs some new springs in the seat, then it might be more comfortable. I’m just glad the tongue is holding for now, and I managed to find all the parts to the harnesses. I’ve only driven a team of horses twice in my life.”
Timeless Healing (Timeless Hearts Book 4) Page 9
