A Place Called Home (A Place Called Home 1)

by Lori Wick

  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.”

  Again, Grandma Em went back to the tray she was preparing to bring upstairs. She delivered it and then returned to the kitchen to get lunch for Luke and herself. Luke made the mistake of not returning to Christine’s room until after lunch. He would find out the hard way that when Christine was left upset and alone with her thoughts, they moved like wildfire and usually in the wrong direction.

  “He had no right shouting at me,” Christine told herself. “I am not answerable to him. If I want to wash my hair when I feel good enough to do so, it’s none of his business. How would he like to smell like smoke?” This was the train of Christine’s thoughts as she picked at her lunch. It had been easier than she expected to not talk; her throat did hurt.

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  Her leg throbbed some, like a sunburn, but other than that she felt pretty good.

  So with all these thoughts in mind Christine made a decision. As soon as she was on her feet, she would take the train home. She didn’t see any problem in being home by Thanksgiving.

  “Hello,” Luke said as he came through the doorway. Christine politely set her lunch aside and watched as he pulled her desk chair around and straddled it. Even in her irritation that he had come back when once again she had decided she had made a mistake about him, she couldn’t help but notice how he spilled over the chair. It was so rare to find someone who could make her feel small and protected. It was getting harder to hold onto her anger as she remembered those arms holding her, his presence when she needed him most.

  Luke could see she was angry with him. He felt he should apologize for shouting at her and should tell her his anger stemmed from the fear she would get sick, that he cared too much about her to want that to happen. Not knowing how to start, he said, “Silas told me you were to come to the ranch tomorrow.”

  Christine nodded.

  “I was thinking we could change your visit to next week, the day after Thanksgiving. Would you still like to come?”

  Christine reached for her paper. When Luke saw her answer was longer than a simple yes or no, he felt a sinking sense of dread. He read the paper she handed to him. “I’m sorry I won’t get to see your ranch, but I’m going home next week. Thank you anyway.”

  “Home?” Christine nodded. “To Spooner?” When her eyes turned wide with surprise, Luke said, “Yes, Christine, I know you’re from Spooner. The sheriff mistook me one day for Mark and told me some things. I went to Mark immediately and demanded that he tell me the entire story.”

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  “You’re very good at demanding things, aren’t you?” Christine’s voice was icy.

  “Yes, I can be very demanding, just as you ca
n be extremely stubborn,” Luke answered her.

  Christine turned her head away from him in anger and looked out the window. She heard his chair move and, assuming he was leaving, was surprised when he moved it up to the head of her bed and leaned close to her.

  Christine wouldn’t look at him. Luke waited patiently, and when she still didn’t turn he reached and took one of her hands in both of his.

  This brought her head around as she looked first at the way his hands swallowed her own, then up into those deep blue eyes glued to her own.

  She looked confused, but she didn’t pull her hand away, and Luke was encouraged. When he spoke, his voice was deep and quiet, his eyes probing hers. “When I got to the backyard Tuesday night and Gram said you were in the barn, I thought my heart was going to stop. And then today, when I shouted at you, it was out of fear you would get sick when I desperately want you back on your feet again.”

  A tear slid down Christine’s cheek. “You confuse me.”

  “I don’t mean to,” he answered gently.

  “It’s not you, it’s me. Everything confuses me.” She began to cry. When she tried to speak, no sound came out and she cried harder.

  Luke, unsure of what to say, sat holding her hand and rubbing it gently until she had composed herself. After she had dried her face and looked at Luke, she watched him bow his head. Christine followed suit.

  “Dear heavenly Father, thank You for Christine’s safety. Thank You for bringing her out of the fire. She was not hurt in the fire, Lord, but she is hurting. Please comfort and heal her. Dry her tears and hold her close. Calm her confusion as only You can do. Help her to trust You, Lord, for her every need, and help me to be here to encourage and care for her. I praise and thank You, God, that You saved Christine and

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  put her in my life. Help us to trust You for our needs and feelings toward each other. In Your Son’s holy name I pray. Amen.”

  Luke was still holding Christine’s hand, and after the prayer he reached out and gently touched her cheek. Again their eyes met. “Please don’t leave Baxter, Christine. I can’t take care of you in Spooner. I can’t get to know you if you’re so far away. Please don’t leave me, Christine, now that I’ve just found you.” The desire to kiss her was almost overpowering, but Luke saw the confusion and fatigue in her eyes.

  “I’ll go so you can rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Reluctantly he withdrew, knowing that they both needed to be alone with their thoughts and to pray.

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  “Well, Mr. Buelow, please come on in.” Maggie answered the front door to find the hotel proprietor on the step.

  “I know it’s the dinner hour, but I need to see the Doc.”

  “Of course. I’ll get him.”

  Mark appeared within seconds. “Hello, Al. Good to see you.”

  “Sorry to get you away from your lunch, but I need to see you.”

  “Certainly-come on into my office.” Mark held open the office door that led off the entryway, and Albert Buelow preceded him inside. When both men were seated Mark said, “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “It’s not me that needs ya.”

  “One of your guests?” This was not an unusual occurrence.

  “Yeah, we’ve had a man in number three since the weekend. When we didn’t see him around for a few days, Ina thought she should check on him.”

  “Is he sick?”

  “Not exactly. His arm is burned.” Mark sat completely still as the weight of this news hit home. Al Buelow watched him, his look one of compassion.

  “Is he from around here?”

  “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Who else knows about this?”

  “Just Ina and myself.”

  Mark continued to sit very still, his heart hammering in his chest as he asked God for wisdom.

  Al, will you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, Doc.”

  Go to the sheriff and tell him all you’ve told me. Also tell him I’m headed over right now to check the man’s arm. One more thing, Al-keep this to yourself”

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  The man nodded solemnly before asking, “How is Miss Bennett?”

  “She’s doing fine, Al. It was kind of you to ask.”

  Mark had just seen Al Buelow out when Susanne came into his office. Her smile quickly faded at the look on her husband’s face.

  “Can you tell me, Mark?”

  “There’s a man at the hotel with a burned arm.” Mark watched the color drain from his wife’s face. Sue sat down heavily in the chair that Mark led her to.

  “I’m afraid.”

  “I am too, but we’re both being a bit premature. I haven’t even examined the man. I’m headed there right now.”

  “Oh, Mark, please be careful!”

  Mark pulled his trembling wife into his arms. “Shhh. You know I’ll be careful.” He kissed her gently. “Cover me with your prayers.” Mark reached for his bag and was gone.”

  ” ‘Bye Silas, thanks for coming.”

  “Any time. I imagine Luke will be along about suppertime. The buyers today were a little more than we expected. It might not be fair to tell you this, but I could tell his mind was here and not at the ranch.”

  Christine smiled at him, and he and Grandma Em left the room. If Luke didn’t come tonight, she would be tempted to get on a horse and go to him. It was hard to believe how much she wanted to see him.

  After much prayer and thought, Christine realized she had been ready to run from the man she loved because anger was clouding her judgment.

  In the last 24 hours Christine had done a lot of praying, confessing, and giving over her fears to God. It was time to get to know Luke. They really had shared a very small amount of time together. When he arrived, she planned on

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  telling him that yesterday she had overreacted. She wanted to stay in Baxter in hopes of getting to know him better.

  Yet doubts assailed her. Worrying that her approach was too forward, she prayed, “Please help me to know what to say.”

  Christine reached for her notepaper and scratched out a quick note. Then she moved down in bed to a more comfortable position for a short nap.

  “I told ya I didn’t want to see no one.”

  “Well, the doctor’s here and he’s going to look at that arm.” Ina Buelow’s hands were planted on her ample hips as she towered over the small, dirty man lying in agony upon one of her beds.

  His eyes were clouded with pain, but he tried again. “I tell ya it ain’t nothin’ but a scratch. Now leave me be.”

  Mark decided to step in. “I’m Doctor Cameron, and whether or not I look at your arm is entirely up to you. But you will answer questions when the sheriff arrives. I can try to alleviate your pain before he comes or you can suffer through the questions.”

  The small man on the bed sagged with defeat. Or was it relief?

  Mark moved forward. The man had a second-degree burn that ran from his left forearm to the back of his hand. He lay quietly, gritting his teeth as Mark examined, cleaned, and wrapped the swollen, oozing skin. By the time Mark finished, the man was bathed in perspiration but hadn’t made a sound.

  The sheriff had arrived and stood waiting to talk with him. The Buelows left and Mark stood near the door to listen.

  Nearly two hours later Mark walked away from the hotel. The man had spent the first half-hour denying there even was a fire. After the sheriff looked around and in the closet

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  found a raggedy overcoat with a badly burned sleeve and a wine bottle with a few tablespoons of kerosene sloshing around in the bottom, the man changed his story.

  He insisted that he had been near the barn, but didn’t start the fire. He could give no reason for the coat or the wine bottle and nearly came unglued when the sheriff told him the charge for attempted murder was the same in Baxter as it was in Spooner.

  The sheriff told Mark when he left that he would be posting a man at the hotel until he could mov
e the burned man to the jail. He never did give his name, but the sheriff planned on holding him until he could wire Spooner.

  Mark arrived home to find his brother’s horse in front of his house. He was thankful for the saved trip to the ranch.

  Silas was on the front-room floor with Emily. They were reading a book together. Much to the delight of his niece, Silas’ voice changed with each character.

  Mark’s cares momentarily evaporated as he listened to the antics of his brother.

  The story ended when Emily spotted her dad. She danced around his legs until he swung her up into his arms. Silas folded his long frame into a chair and Mark took the couch.

  “Is Luke coming into town tonight?”

  “That’s a silly question,” Silas said with a raised brow.

  Mark nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “I just came from Gram’s. Christine looks much better,” Silas remarked.

  “I saw her this morning and she seemed to be coming along. A bit down perhaps, but not physically.”

  “Luke’s arrival will take care of that.”

  “Do me a favor and ask Luke to stop here when he gets into town.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell him.”

  “Thanks.”

  Silas knew better than to ask, but his brother really looked upset about something.

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  Not long afterward Silas rode toward the ranch, realizing that he could pray even without knowing any details, but his mind kept returning to Luke and Christine. Silas wondered if they had figured out that they were in love. Well, God would take care of it. As Mac liked to say, the Holy Spirit didn’t need anyone’s help.

  The wind had picked up, as did Silas’ mount, with both man and beast ready to be home.

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  Luke tied his horse in front of Mark’s place and knocked on the door. Mark answered and led Luke wordlessly into his office.

  “Al Buelow came over today to tell me a hotel guest was hurt. The man’s arm was burned. The sheriff questioned him and he found a burned overcoat and some kerosene hidden in the man’s closet. The sheriff plans to hold him until he can get word to and a reply from Spooner.”