A Free Heart

by Amelia C. Adams

  Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “That’s wonderful!”

  “Wonderful? This is terrible!”

  Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. Water dripped from her wrists, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Harriet Martin, you must be the most stubborn person alive. You know you’re in love with Tom, but you’re withholding your feelings because of your pride or people’s expectations or . . . who even knows what. You managed to put all that aside for Sam—it’s time to put it aside for Tom. Get back in there and kiss him silly!”

  Harriet’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “You heard me. Now go!”

  Harriet’s feet took over before her brain had time to reason through what Elizabeth had just said. She ran back into the hotel, took the stairs at a dash, and flew across the room to Tom’s bed. She paused only long enough to take the bowl of pudding out of his hands and set it on the table, and then she bent down and kissed him. Silly.

  When she finally pulled back, she was out of breath. He grinned and shook his head. “Why, Miss Martin, I never knew you had that in you,” he said. “Think of all the time we’ve wasted.” He reached out, slid his hand behind her neck, and brought her closer for another kiss. This one was longer, slower, and made her heart pound so fast, she almost thought they’d have to send for Dr. Wayment again.

  “There now,” she said when she’d caught her breath. “Beulah May who?”

  “I have absolutely no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “Good,” she said, standing up. “Let’s keep it that way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have laundry to do.”

  * * *

  “The tissue has started to regenerate,” Dr. Wayment announced with a smile. “Tom, you’re officially out of the woods.”

  Harriet clasped her hands together under her chin. She wanted to dance around the room and sing, but felt that might distract the doctor from finishing the examination. Maybe later.

  “That’s wonderful news,” Miss Hampton said. “I’ll go downstairs and tell the others. They’re eager for an update.”

  “Is there anything else he should be doing, Doctor?” Harriet asked.

  “No, I’d say to keep doing whatever you’re doing.” Dr. Wayment picked up his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As soon as Dr. Wayment left the room, Tom held out his arms. “So, he said we’re supposed to keep doing whatever we’ve been doing.”

  Harriet walked over to his side. “That’s right.”

  “And I imagine that if a little bit of a good thing is good, then more of a good thing would be better, don’t you think?”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, if kissing you once or twice is good, wouldn’t kissing you three or four times be even better?” He quirked an eyebrow.

  She laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know. What if we kissed too much and it stopped being effective? That would be terrible, don’t you think?”

  He reached up and trailed a finger down her nose, and then across her lips. “Somehow, I think that’s a chance I’m willing to take,” he whispered.

  She leaned in, and his arms came up around her and held her tight. “Harriet,” he said into her hair when they had broken apart, “I don’t want you to tell me the answer to this right away because I know you despise me. But if I manage to get well, if I manage to keep my leg, would you ever consider marrying me?”

  She sat up and took his face between her hands. “I’d marry you with two legs, with one leg, with no legs. Yes, I despise you horribly, but I want to spend every minute of every day of the rest of my life despising you, and nothing will stop me.”

  He smiled, a long, slow smile, and then licked his lips. “Very well then,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her to him again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tom put aside the book he’d been trying to read. The pain had reduced significantly since Dr. Wayment had started adding olive oil to the acid, but the throbbing that remained still made it difficult to concentrate.

  Now that he was no longer mad with pain, it wasn’t necessary for someone to be with him constantly. It was nice to know that he wasn’t creating such a burden for everyone, but at the same time, he was a little lonely. He itched to finish the roof, to take care of the horses, to chop and haul wood—anything that would make him feel useful again. He could hear hammering coming from outside and knew the workers Adam had hired were following the plans he’d drawn up, but that didn’t take away the sting of not being able to do it himself. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Patience, he reminded himself. Patience now so he could do everything he wanted to do later.

  Miss Hampton had placed a bell next to his bed so he could ring whenever he needed something, and people dropped by to see him quite often. It wasn’t the same as having constant companionship, and the moments between his visitors were often long, but he had to remind himself that he’d always preferred solitude. Well, that was, until he fell in love with Harriet. He’d rather be with her than any other person in the world, and much more than being alone.

  He grinned, thinking about her. They’d been officially engaged for a week now, and she came in as often as she could. The hotel’s business had increased by quite a lot over the last three days, and all the workers had been kept busy. Her hair would often be slightly mussed when she came in to see him, and he liked it that way. She looked untamed and independent. Just like him … before his freedom got put on hold.

  He shifted slightly, careful not to move his leg. He could hear voices from the dining room. The train had come in just moments before, and it sounded like a good crowd had gathered. One of the girls would bring him a tray in a bit and tell him what was going on out in the real world. If that girl was Harriet, there would probably be just a bit of canoodling as well.

  When he heard footsteps on the stairs, his heart rate picked up in anticipation. But it was just Dr. Wayment.

  “I thought you might be Harriet,” Tom said, waving the doctor in when he tapped.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m nowhere near as good-looking.” Dr. Wayment set his bag on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’m getting used to the pain or if it’s becoming less, but I don’t feel half bad.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Dr. Wayment examined the leg, then nodded. “I’m very pleased with your progress, Tom. I would never have predicted it or even dared to hope, but I’ve been proven wrong, and I’m delighted about it.”

  “So, Doc, I have a question,” Tom said, bracing his hands on either side of himself and pushing up to more of a sitting position. “I know I’m not supposed to move around, and I plan to honor that. But what about a wheelchair? If we placed it here by the bed and I got up on my good leg and then sat, could I use a wheelchair without hurting the healing bone?”

  Dr. Wayment slowly nodded. “I imagine we could give it a go. I’d want to put an extension on the front so your leg was held up rather than dangling down, and you’d be under strict orders not to abuse your new freedom, but yes, let’s try it out. I have a wheelchair back at the office, and I can bring it tomorrow.”

  Tom exhaled with relief. “Thanks, Doctor. I promise, I won’t overdo. I was thinking more along the lines of sitting on the porch to get some sun—that kind of thing.”

  “I don’t see any harm in that. Getting you up and down the stairs, on the other hand, might prove difficult.”

  “Oh, shoot. I was so busy thinking about the chair itself that I didn’t even think about the stairs. They’re too steep for a ramp, even if we built one . . .”

  Dr. Wayment laughed. “Ever the problem solver, eh? I’m sure you’ll get something worked out, even if it’s just as simple as a few men carrying you down the stairs. That’s how you got up here, and it didn’t seem to do any irreparable harm.”

  “True. Thanks, Doc. I’ll look forward to tomorrow.”

  “And why is that?” Harriet ask
ed, coming in the room with a tray. “Is the doctor finally going to let you take me dancing?”

  “I wish that were so, Miss Martin,” Dr. Wayment said. “Unfortunately, that will be a little while yet. In the meantime, everything looks good, and I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal.”

  “Miss Hampton prepared a plate for you, Doctor. Be sure to take a moment to eat before you go.”

  “Thank you. I believe I will. See you both tomorrow.” He nodded and left, and Tom glanced at the tray in anticipation.

  “What did you bring me?” he asked.

  “Bean soup with ham, cornbread, and some apple pie,” Harriet said. She placed the tray next to his bed. “And me, of course.”

  Tom held out his arms, and she went into them willingly. “I think I like you even better than apple pie, and that’s saying something,” he said into her neck. “You have a lot in common, though—you’re both sweet, a little spicy, and nice and warm.” He gave her a squeeze.

  “You’re comparing me to pie?” Harriet sat up and looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

  “Hey, I like pie a great deal,” he said. “This is a genuine compliment.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll just have to take your word for it. Better eat before everything gets cold.” She helped him get situated. “So, what were you and the doctor talking about? You both seemed a little more cheerful than usual.”

  Tom nearly told her, but then paused. The last few days had been so routine, so boring, that a surprise might be fun and liven things up a bit. “He’s very pleased with my progress. Right now, he feels there’s no reason why I shouldn’t have a full recovery.”

  “That’s what he said yesterday.”

  “Well, he feels it even more today.” He took a bite of soup to hide his smile. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face. Of course, the day when he could walk again would be the best of all, but at this point, any progress was something to be celebrated.

  * * *

  “Does laundry never end?” Olivia plunged another tablecloth into the washtub. “I believe that’s all we ever do around here. Washing it, ironing it . . .”“No, it never ends,” Abigail replied.

  “You’re comforting, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t know that was part of my job.”

  “Honestly.” Harriet shook her head. “The two of you are worse than cats in a barrel today. What has gotten into you?”“‘Cats in a barrel’? That sounds like something Tom would say.” Abigail raised her eyebrows.

  “Well, she has been spending an awful lot of time with him lately,” Olivia replied.

  Harriet dumped her armload of napkins into the washtub. “At least the two of you are on the same side for once. If teasing me is what brings that about, by all means—tease away.”

  Jeanette came over to gather more things to hang on the line. “Dr. Wayment tells me Tom is much improved. I wish I’d been able to sit in on the examination, but the doctor’s only free time today was during the meal.”

  Harriet helped her carry a large basket of wet tablecloths to the line. “Have you spoken with him yet? About becoming a nurse?”

  Jeanette glanced over to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “Not yet. But I will soon.”

  “What’s stopping you?” Harriet asked. “We weren’t very busy when he came by yesterday.”

  Jeanette blushed. “It’s my nerves. I realize that if I don’t ask, I’ll never know, but this is frightening. It’s a whole new world that I never even considered until this last week—striking out on my own, doing something without Abigail . . .” She paused. “I believe that’s the biggest thing holding me back. Abigail has always led the way, and I’ve followed right along, more than happy to let her. I’ve never been very motivated on my own.”

  “Maybe you just needed to find the right cause.”

  Jeanette seemed to contemplate that. “Maybe. I’ll talk to him soon. I promise.”

  * * *

  “Hey there,” Tom said when Harriet came in after dinner. She smelled like roast beef—pretty much his favorite way for a woman to smell. “Listen, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Oh, dear.” She crossed the floor and sat on the edge of his bed. “Whenever I hear someone say that, I know I’m not going to like what comes next.”

  “No, this is good. At least, I think it’s good.” Now that Tom had started this conversation, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to finish it. If she said no . . . but he couldn’t think that way. He needed to focus on the reward that would come if she said yes.

  “We’ve both learned that life goes by too fast and it’s too unpredictable,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. “I could have died a week ago, and you never would have known how I felt.”

  “You loved me before last week?” Harriet asked, looking confused.

  “I’ve loved you ever since I kissed you at the water pump.” He grinned and then grew serious again. “I don’t want another minute to go by without you as my wife. Harriet, you’ve already said you’d marry me. Now I have another question. Will you marry me tomorrow?”

  She sat up straight and blinked. “Tomorrow? Tom, I . . . that’s so soon . . . yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes. I think you’re crazy, but yes.” She bent down and kissed him. Far too soon for his tastes, she pulled away. “How are we going to manage it, though?”“Tell you what. You ask Adam and Elizabeth to come see me, and we’ll take care of all the details. You just worry about a dress.”

  “A dress?” A look of worry crossed her face. “A dress. Maybe I could borrow Elizabeth’s.”

  “I’m sure she’d let you.” Tom reached up and traced her jaw line. “You are going to be the most beautiful bride in the state of Kansas. Maybe even in the whole Midwest.”

  “The whole Midwest? That would be quite astounding.”

  “If anyone could do it, it’s you.”

  “All right, you flatterer.” She stood up. “I guess I have a wedding outfit to put together.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  True to his word, Tom handled all the wedding arrangements. Harriet wasn’t sure which made her more nervous—the fact that she was getting married, or the fact that the groom was in charge of the whole thing. She decided to put her fears to the side. What mattered was the fact that the most exasperating, infuriating, frustrating man she’d ever met would soon be hers, and she’d never have to let him go.

  Agatha volunteered to make the cake, and Elizabeth was delighted to lend out her dress. “This is almost like your wedding day all over again,” Harriet said as she tried it on.

  “With two very key differences—the bride and the groom.” Elizabeth stood back and surveyed Harriet. “I didn’t realize how short I am.”

  Harriet looked down, but couldn’t determine the hem length at that angle. “Is it bad?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “It’s too short by a good three inches. Luckily, I think I have something that might help.” She dug around in the bag of sewing supplies she’d brought up to Harriet’s room. “This wide lace might do the trick,” she said at last, holding up the bundle. She pulled out some pins and attached the lace at the bottom of the dress for about a foot, then stood back. “That will do. It’s not ideal, but it looks nice enough. I’ll pin the rest after you take it off.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth. This means so much to me.”

  Elizabeth stepped forward and gave her a hug, which Harriet gladly returned. “I feel as though I’ve finally been given a sister,” Harriet said, wiping tears from her eyes. “It was hard, growing up with only brothers, but you were worth the wait.”

  Elizabeth wiped her eyes too. “Goodness, we’re both going to be soppy messes if we don’t stop this. Let’s get you changed, and then we have some sewing to do.”

  * * *

  Harriet stood in the hotel lobby, wondering what on earth she was doing there. Tom had been very specific about how he wanted things to be, and Elizabeth had been his willing accomplice. Now Pastor Osbourne stood in t
he entryway to the dining room, his Bible in hand, and the wedding guests were seated around the edges of the lobby. Why weren’t they going upstairs to Tom’s room? The lobby seemed like a very strange place for them to gather.

  Suddenly, she heard a noise at the top of the staircase, and when she saw what was happening, she gasped. Tom was in a wheelchair, his leg extended out in front of him, and the chair was being carried by Mr. Brody on one side and Dr. Wayment on the other. One of the men who had been working on the hotel addition supported the back of the chair. As Harriet watched in horror and fascination, they carried the chair down the stairs. She pressed her hand to her mouth when they reached the spot where the staircase turned, but they managed to make it around the bend without difficulty, and they set Tom down right in front of her.

  “Surprise,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I couldn’t tolerate the thought of getting married in my bedroom, of all places, so we cooked up this little scheme.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Harriet replied. “This . . . this is amazing.” Her other hand held a bouquet, so she had to pull away from Tom in order to grab her handkerchief, but as soon as her tears were mopped up, she took his hand again.

  “I’m so pleased at this opportunity to officiate at the wedding of Thomas White and Harriet Martin,” Pastor Osbourne said, and all eyes turned to him. “I understand this courtship has been rather unusual, from the meeting to the proposal and now to the actual wedding.”

  Everyone in attendance chuckled, and Harriet glanced down at Tom. Unusual, yes. But neither one of them were cut out for a traditional relationship. That would go against their very personalities.

  “I’m frequently asked to perform weddings with very little notice, but this is the first time I’ve seen the groom come down the aisle rather than the bride.”

  There was another ripple of laughter, and the pastor opened up his Bible. “I’m reminded of the scripture in Matthew which tells us that whenever two or more are gathered in His name, there He will be also. This congregation, small though it may be, has a real sense of family and community, and I believe it’s His will to be present at this union.”