He reached out and stroked along her jaw. “It’s all right, Mrs. Foster. Consider it a wedding gift—I do owe you one, after all. And I’m buying it for my own enjoyment as much as I am for you—you look stunning in it.”
Well, if he put it that way . . . She smiled. “How can I refuse?”
***
The hospital hadn’t been able to give any sort of idea how long the surgery might take. Because the doctor didn’t know what he’d find when he went in, he couldn’t make a prediction. Trinity had thought about staying at the hotel, as Raymond had encouraged her to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to be so far away from him during this definitive moment in his life. She wanted all their steps to be taken together.
The nurse at the front desk had been especially kind and lent Trinity a novel to read while she waited. She’d finished the last page twenty minutes ago without having any memory of what she’d read, and now she stood by the window, looking out into the evening. With the surgery not starting until two o’clock, it certainly made for a long day.
At last Dr. Tate approached from down a long hallway. She wanted to run to him and meet him, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to leave the lobby, not being medical personnel. He greeted her warmly and gestured for her to take a seat.
“Everything went very well, Mrs. Foster,” he said as he took the chair nearest hers. “There are eight small bones that make up the wrist, and he had unstable fractures in two of them. This means that the bones had shifted into a bad position before they started to heal. I re-broke those bones and set them properly.”
“You broke them again?” Trinity was surprised. “I didn’t know doctors broke bones.”
He laughed. “We do sometimes. In this case, it was necessary because the bones were pressing on his nerves. Now that the bones are in the correct positions, the nerves can regenerate and the tissue swelling will reduce, and it’s my belief that he’ll regain full use of his hand. It’s going to take some time, and he’ll need to do the hand exercises I’ll show him, but I feel very confident.”
“Oh, thank you, Dr. Tate.” She was so tired and had been so anxious, tears sprang to her eyes. “Is he awake? May I see him?”
“You may sit with him, but he most likely won’t wake up for another hour or two. Then we’ll move him into a bed on the second floor for a day or two. I believe you’ve been told that I’m leaving for Europe?”
“Yes, we were told.”
“I wish I could stay to monitor his progress, but my colleague, Dr. Gray, will take over for me when I leave.” Dr. Tate shook his head. “There’s a tremendous irony to all this, Mrs. Foster. If your husband had been the physician in his own case, he would have been able to set those bones properly. I don’t believe the doctor who assisted him understood that there were fractures involved, but Dr. Foster did. I’m glad he came to me rather than insisting it be done in his own clinic, however—I believe that my experience with the bones of the wrist was helpful to him.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Doctor. And I hope your travels are safe.”
He gave her a nod. “My best to you as well, Mrs. Foster.”
Chapter Nine
Raymond looked pale lying on the white-sheeted bed, but then, Trinity supposed anyone would look pale under those circumstances. His arm was in a cast up to his elbow, and she prayed that this time, the bones would heal in their proper places. The nurse had said something about the need to watch for infection because there had been an open wound created by the need for surgery, but Trinity couldn’t help but feel all would be well. They’d come so far, been so blessed—their good fortune would continue.
Raymond let out a small groan, and she came to his side. “Trinity?” he rasped.
“I’m right here.”
He licked his lips a few times. “I don’t think I like being sedated.”
“Well, it’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?”
“Probably.” He blinked a few times and then held out his good hand for her. “Were you bored? How long did the surgery last?”
“It was about three and a half hours or so. I’m sure Dr. Tate will give you all the details before he leaves, but I can tell you this much—he believes it was a success.”
“A success?”
“Yes. It will take some time and you’ll need to exercise the hand, but he thinks you’ll see a full recovery.” She brushed the hair from his forehead as she spoke.
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, then met her gaze. “This is such a miracle. I can’t even . . . I’m just so grateful.”
“So am I.” She smiled down at him, her heart nearly exploding. It was all too much, too good, too joyful.
He tugged on her hand and brought her down to his lips. “And this is the greatest miracle of all,” he said just before he kissed her.
***
All was quiet in the Foster family home. The rooms Trinity had been given to share with Raymond were comfortable and spacious, and Mrs. Foster had been more than eager to welcome Trinity as another daughter. This kind of open-hearted generosity made her think back on her own upbringing, and that led to regrets about her relationship with her father.
Raymond slept peacefully on his side of the bed. She brushed his curls off his forehead and made sure his casted arm was still propped up on the spare pillow. Then she slid out from between the covers and crept across the room to take a seat at the small desk in the corner. By the light of one lamp, she began her letter.
Dear Father,
Well, fate certainly does have a strange way of guiding us where we’re supposed to be. After I wrote you last, I found myself in love with one of my fellow train passengers, and we were married three weeks ago. If I hadn’t been on my way to Colorado, he and I never would have met, and I’m so blissfully happy that I’m almost tempted to say thank you for putting me on that train in the first place. I’m not saying that what you did was right, but I’ve found happiness unlike anything even I could have imagined, and I’m choosing to focus on that rather than think about anything that happened in the past.
To that end, I’m enclosing my address if you should ever want to contact me. I wish you all the best and hope that someday, you’re able to find happiness within yourself so that you, too, may move beyond all the unpleasantness and be free.
Your daughter,
Trinity Foster
***
Trinity bit her lip when she saw Dr. Perkins pick up a small saw from his instrument tray.
“Don’t be nervous, Mrs. Foster. This is standard procedure for removing a cast. I’ll simply cut through the plaster, and then we’ll be able to remove it from your husband’s arm.”
She glanced at Raymond. He seemed perfectly calm. She would most certainly not be calm if someone were holding a sharp implement over her and waving it about like a conductor’s baton.
“What if I just wait over here,” she said, edging toward the corner of the room.
Raymond laughed. “Maybe that would be better.”
She closed her eyes when the sound of metal rasping on plaster filled the room. She trusted Dr. Perkins—he’d come highly recommended by both Dr. Tate and Dr. Gray in Denver—but still, the man hadn’t been there when the cast was applied. What if he misjudged how thick it was and cut into Raymond’s arm?
“It’s all over now, Mrs. Foster,” Dr. Perkins said a moment later, and she opened her eyes to see them both smiling at her. “I didn’t even scratch him.”
“Well, it’s a good thing. I brought him here in pristine condition, you know.” Trinity walked to Raymond’s side and looked down at his arm. It was a bit white from having been encased in plaster for so long and away from the sun. He also appeared to have lost some muscle. But the scar had healed nicely, from what she could tell.
“How does it feel?” she asked.
“So far, so good.” He slowly rotated the wrist and then twitched his fingers. There wasn’t a great deal of movement in them, but Dr. Perkins nod
ded.
“Excellent. It appears that everything has knit together as it should. Now, you mentioned that Dr. Tate gave you some exercises to do. Will you describe them to me?”
Raymond explained how he was to flex and extend his fingers a bit more each day and to squeeze a ball or an apple to rehabilitate the muscles.
“Excellent,” Dr. Perkins said again. “Come back a week from Monday for an evaluation. In the meantime, I want you to keep your wrist wrapped up with this thick bandage for stability. It’s been out of commission for so long, it will take a while to regenerate and be able to hold up the weight of your hand again.”
He showed Trinity how to bandage a wrist and gave her a charge to keep an eye on her husband and make sure he didn’t overdo. Then he sent them home after making them promise to come in if anything started to hurt more than it should.
Trinity slid her arm through Raymond’s as they rode back home. “What do you think?” she asked.
“I think,” he said, turning to face her, “that I’m the luckiest man on earth.” He reached out with his left hand and gently stroked her face, then pulled her closer and kissed her until she couldn’t even hear the sound of the horses’ hooves on the street.
When they arrived back at the house, they found a trunk sitting in the entryway, a card on top bearing Trinity’s name.
“What on earth?”
“I don’t have the faintest idea,” Raymond’s mother said. “It was delivered just as you see it.”
Trinity took the card and opened it, sinking into a nearby chair as she read.
These things belonged to your mother. I came across them while I was cleaning out the house. I decided against the loan and sold the property. Be happy.
That was all it said. There was no signature, no return address, no way for her to contact him if she chose. At least he knew where to find her, and she supposed that was good enough.
She lifted the lid of the trunk and gasped. Inside were layers and layers of beautiful lace tablecloths and doilies. She remembered the hours her mother had spent crocheting the things. She lifted them and found her very first doll, then her very first pair of shoes. She had no idea her mother had kept them.
“What’s this?” Raymond reached into the trunk and pulled out a framed portrait.
“That was my mother on her wedding day.”
“She was quite beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
With each thing Trinity pulled from the trunk, the more her heart ached with the pain of losing her mother, but also the joy of remembering. When at last everything had been taken out and now lay at her feet, she picked them up one by one and replaced them, then looked up into Raymond’s eyes. “I miss her so very much.”
He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Let’s name our first daughter after her. A fitting memorial.”
“Our first daughter?”
“Well, yes. Would you prefer we wait until our second or third daughter? We run into a danger doing that, though. What if we only have one daughter and then nothing but boys? Then you’d be holding on to that name forever, and it would go entirely to waste. No, my dear, it must be the first daughter. That’s the only way to be sure.”
She laughed. “Well, all right. If you insist.”
“I do. I absolutely do.”
Epilogue
Trinity gasped and then laughed as Raymond scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the threshold. “This house has everything you said you wanted,” he said as he set her down in the entryway. “Over here, we have a room that’s perfect for my office. We’ll put up shelves for all my medical journals, and of course, one for my little bronzed skull.”
“Of course,” she replied, amused. “It simply wouldn’t be your office without it.”
“You understand me so well. Now, over here is the parlor, and down here . . .”
With every room they entered, Trinity became more enchanted. She didn’t know if it was the natural charm of the place, or the fact that she was more than ready to move out of the family home, but this felt right. Raymond’s mother had been the picture of hospitality, but Trinity wanted to be the mistress of her own home . . . this home.
“I love it,” she said when he’d shown her every last nook and cranny. “I love it, and I think we should buy it.”
His eyes sparkled as he pulled her into his arms. “I’m so glad. I love it too.”
“And I can’t wait for you to start seeing patients here. I rather like the idea of having you nearby during the day.”
“I like having you nearby all the time.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then found his way down to her mouth. She smiled against his lips as the fingers of his left hand entwined in her hair, feeling so very, very blessed.
THE END
About Amelia C. Adams
Amelia C. Adams is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels.
She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born more recently (she won't say how recently or not recently) because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub. She has hit Amazon bestseller status twice, once for A Clean Slate and once for A Clear Hope.
You can reach Amelia at [email protected].
Please join Amelia on her website to learn more about her, sign up for her newsletter, stay on top of news and upcoming releases, and follow her on Facebook.
The Kansas Crossroads Series:
A New Beginning
A Free Heart
The Dark and the Dawn
A Clean Slate
A Clear Hope
The Whisper of Morning
A Careless Wind
A Narrow Road
The Bitter and the Sweet
The Calm of Night
A Begrudging Bride
And many more to be announced …
The Nurses of New York series:
Sea of Strangers
Cause of Conflict
Touch of Tenderness
Heart of Hearts
The American Mail-Order Brides series:
Hope: Bride of New Jersey
Tabitha: Bride of Missouri
The Hearts of Nashville series:
Whiskey and Women
And many more to be announced . . .
As part of the Brides of Beckham series by Kirsten Osbourne:
Mail Order Molly
A Broken Wing (Kansas Crossroads) Page 8
