“Only the Lord knows our time, my friend. But I don’t think yours is just yet. Forsythia, get me the bandages, please. We’ll wrap his ribs tightly to help stabilize them and ease the pain.”
Darkness fell, and still they worked together, cleaning and stitching and bandaging wounds, and setting more broken limbs. Lark, who had been helping Mrs. Caldwell clean up some of the mess inside Henry’s office, came by and assisted for a few hours as well.
It was nearly midnight when the last patient hobbled out of the office. Many families who had lost homes or endured damage were bedding down with others for the night. Adam made up cots in his office for the little girl with the compound fracture and the man with broken ribs, wanting to keep them close overnight for observation.
“Where is your sister?” he asked Forsythia, concerned by the exhaustion lining her face.
“Lark went home to update the others and get some extra blankets for you here. She’ll be back for me.” She leaned on the back of a wooden chair.
“Come upstairs and have a cup of tea.” Adam extended a hand to her. “Our patients are sleeping, and thanks to the gift of laudanum, I don’t think they’ll need us anytime soon. We’ll hear Lark when she drives up.”
Forsythia hesitated, then accepted his assistance up the stairs. In the little sitting room, she sank into the rocking chair he kept pulled close to the stove. Nearby, Jesse snoozed on the sofa.
“This is cozy.” She held out her hands, warming them. “Thank you.”
Adam set the teakettle to boil. “No, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” Weary to the bone himself, he sank into another chair beside her and met her eyes, hoping she could see how much he meant it. “I can’t think of anyone else who would have worked beside me like you did.”
“What, not Henry or Jesse?” She quirked a smile.
“Definitely not Henry or Jesse.” He chuckled.
“What about Elizabeth?”
Adam stilled.
“Forgive me.” Forsythia twisted her hands together. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.” Adam reached across and laid his hand over hers, stilling her nervous fingers. “It’s all right. And no, not even Elizabeth. She was my first love, the light of my life. And she unfailingly supported me in my work. But sharing it . . . that has been something new with you, Forsythia.”
Her fingers trembled under his, and he gripped them tightly. He hadn’t meant to speak just yet, but suddenly he knew it was time.
Forsythia sat still, barely daring to breathe. Every ounce of her pulsed with the awareness of Adam’s hand over hers, the warmth of his fingers. What was he saying?
“I know I told you I needed time.”
“And I understood. I understand.”
“And that has meant more than I can say. But what I’m trying to tell you, dearest Forsythia, is that . . . I think I have had enough. Time, that is.” He shifted and slipped from his chair to kneel beside hers.
“You have?” She dared to meet his eyes. Those wonderful, warm brown eyes.
He twined his strong fingers through hers. “When the tornado hit, and Jesse and I were hunkered down in the barn out back, all I could think was that I wanted to be at your side, wherever you were, whatever you were doing. And to have you at mine. Then when I needed help in the clinic . . . you were there.”
Forsythia lifted her hand and brushed a wayward dark curl from his forehead, as she had so often longed to do. “And all I could think was that you needed me.”
He lowered his head, brushing his lips across her knuckles, then looked up again. “You know I am not perfect. I’m as flawed as any man, and I can’t even promise I’m finished grieving Elizabeth. But if you still want me, with all my imperfections . . . then I would ask you, Forsythia Nielsen—would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t come unencumbered either. Are you sure you want three ready-made children?”
He caught her tear on his finger. “Elizabeth and I couldn’t have children—at least, she couldn’t. And your care for those little ones is one of the things I loved first about you.”
Love. Lord, he loves me. Forsythia closed her eyes.
“I’d say those three are less encumbrances than extra blessings, wouldn’t you?”
She nodded, teary laughter bubbling up. “Then, Dr. Adam Brownsville, yes. I would be honored to become your wife.” And then, to the surprise of both of them, she leaned forward and kissed her doctor squarely on the mouth.
“Hello?” A step sounded on the stairs. “Anyone home?”
Lark. Forsythia pulled back with a gasp. “You said we’d hear her.”
“Well, I didn’t know we would be quite so distracted.” A grin lighting his face, Adam kissed her quickly once more and then jumped up. “Yes, Miss Nielsen. We’re here.”
Forsythia pressed her fingers to her lips, her heart pounding. Lord, I love him, but are we truly ready for this? And what is Larkspur going to say?
29
So much to be thankful for.
Standing within the plain wooden walls of the Salton church, Lark stood in charge of the pot of hot cider at the community Thanksgiving meal, breathing in the sweet, spicy scent rising beneath her nose. Children scampered around, their laughter and squeals mingling with the chatter of women spreading food on the tables. The wooden pews had been cleared to the sides to make way for the tables and benches now lining the sanctuary, laden with the fruits of the farming families’ harvest.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Del appeared before her, beaming, and Lark dipped her a cupful of cider. “I was just talking with some of the parents of my students, and we think we’ve already raised nearly enough for the new schoolhouse.”
“Just with the plate charge for the meal?” Lark served cider for a little boy and his mother.
“A few people made generous extra
