Chapter 23 #2
Robert clapped a hand on Enoch’s shoulder as the two disappeared down the hallway. “She’ll be all right, Enoch. You got her back safe.”
Enoch shrugged off the touch, pacing to the window. He stared out at the darkening landscape without really seeing it, his mind a chaotic whirl.
Mandie’s soft voice drifted from the other room, answered by the doctor’s lower rumble.
Enoch strained to make out the words, but couldn’t discern anything intelligible.
The minutes crawled by, each one an eternity. Robert went outside to tend to the stock, and Enoch moved back to pacing the length of the room. Would the doctor come out and say she’d lost the baby? God, don’t let her lose the baby.
After what felt like hours, the doctor’s boots sounded in the hallway. Enoch spun to face it, his heart in his throat.
The doctor emerged first, his expression unreadable. Mandie followed a step behind, and the moment Enoch saw her face, the coiled tension in his chest eased.
She was smiling. Tired and pale, but smiling.
The doctor turned to him. “Mrs. Beaumont and the baby both appear to be in good health. No signs of lasting injury from the fall.”
Relief crashed through Enoch, so intense it left him light-headed. He braced a hand against the wall so his knees didn’t give way. “Thank God.”
Mandie moved to his side, her hand resting on his arm. “I told you we were all right.” Her voice was gentle, but held a note of admonishment.
He turned to her, drinking in the sight of her whole and well. The urge to pull her into his arms, to hold her close and never let go, surged through him. But he tamped it down, his jaw clenching with the effort. “You should rest.” His voice came out nearly a growl.
Her smile faltered a fraction, but she nodded. “I will. But Enoch, please don’t worry so.”
While fear still clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, he managed a tight nod. “I’ll see the doctor out.”
Enoch turned to the man. “Thank you for coming. For checking on her.” He managed to keep his voice level, but inside, his emotions churned like storm-tossed waves.
The older man clapped him on the shoulder. “She’ll be just fine, son. A few days of rest and she’ll be good as new.”
Enoch walked with the doctor outside, then as the man rode back toward town, Enoch stood for a long moment on the porch, drawing deep breaths of the cool evening air. The sky had darkened to indigo, the first stars winking into view.
Maybe time in the barn could ease the tangles inside him. He descended the porch steps and started toward the structure. Its burned shell stood out as a dark, awkward shadow. The charred remains mocked him, a physical form of his failures and losses.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He shouldn’t be so angry. The doctor had said she was fine. She and the baby both.
He was halfway across the yard when the sound of an approaching wagon made him pause. He turned to see James and Thomas in the damaged rig.
James reined the team to a stop in front of the barn and swung down from the seat. “How is she?”
Enoch swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “The doctor says she’ll be fine.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, as if saying them aloud might somehow alter their truth.
Relief softened his brother’s features. “Thank God. We can put the team up if you want to go back inside to her.”
Enoch shook his head. “I’ll unharness them. You two go in and scrounge up some food. I’m sure you’re hungry and tired.”
James studied him. Then he spoke in a lower voice. “Go on in, Thomas. Enoch and I can handle this.”
Their baby brother nodded and trudged toward the house, leaving Enoch and James alone in the deepening night.
James was the next brother in line after him, and he’d always been the one—other than Will—who could read Enoch best. So he turned his back on his brother, focusing on unhitching the horses from the traces. Yet he could feel James’s gaze boring into him, searching and far too perceptive.
“You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” James’s voice came quiet but firm.
Enoch’s jaw clenched. He led the first horse to the hitching rail and reached for a brush.
James followed him with the second gelding. “Accidents happen, Enoch. You can’t control everything. Mandie doesn’t blame you.”
“Maybe she should.” The words bit out of him. He moved to brush the animal’s other side, keeping his eyes fixed on the task.
“Why? Because you couldn’t predict a hidden rut in the road? Because you didn’t force her to stay home against her will?” James shook his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”
Enoch ran the brush over a spot of dried mud with more force than necessary. The horse snorted and sidled away from him. He drew a ragged breath, trying to gentle his movements.
“I think we need to find a safer place for Mandie to live. Maybe find a house in town—or build her one.”
James huffed out something that sounded almost like a laugh. “You’re going to send her away now? Why can’t you just admit you love the woman and marry her like any other man would?”
James didn’t understand. Somehow Enoch had to make him see.
“I can’t go through this again.” His voice cracked on the final word, the admission scraping his throat raw. “Losing Charlotte nearly destroyed me. If I get any closer to Mandie and something happens to her...”
James’s hand landed on his shoulder. “I know you’re scared. After everything you’ve been through, it’s understandable. But you can’t let fear control your life. Mandie is fine. Don’t push her away because of what might happen.”
Enoch shrugged off his brother’s touch, his fingers tightening on the brush until his knuckles whitened. “I can’t...I won’t survive losing someone else I love. It’s better not to let myself get too attached in the first place.”
James sighed, his breath misting in the cooling air. “Is it really better, though? To hold yourself apart, to never let yourself fully love or be loved, because you’re afraid of the pain?”
Enoch’s throat constricted. He closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. “I don’t know. I just...I can’t risk it.”
He wanted to believe his brother. Wanted to let himself give in to these feelings for Mandie. But the fear, the memory of shattering grief, held him back like a physical chain.