Chapter Thirty-Six #3
The doctor finally stepped back and folded his arms; for a long moment, he simply studied Henry. Then, his expression softened slightly. “Well, you’re a very fortunate man.”
Henry glanced down toward the bandages. “I gathered that.”
Dr. Turner gave him a pointed look. “No, son. I mean truly fortunate.” His expression softened. “A little lower, and I don’t think we’d be having this conversation.”
Henry went quiet as Dr. Turner began to pack away his instruments.
“You’re healing well.”
Henry’s shoulders dropped.
“But?—?”
George smirked into his coffee as Dr. Turner pointed directly at Henry.
“No heavy lifting, no riding, and no hard work for at least another two weeks—at least. Am I understood?” The doctor narrowed his eyes as he waited for a reply.
Henry looked toward George, who was nodding in agreement
Traitor.
“Understood, Doc,” Henry muttered.
Dr. Turner smiled. “Give yourself time.” With that, he picked up his bag and headed back down the steps. “You’re not twenty anymore.”
George nearly choked, laughing, as Henry glared at him.
“Thanks for the support,” he said dryly.
“Any time,” George replied.
As Dr. Turner disappeared down the road, Ruth stepped onto the porch, holding Clara’s hand. Sunlight spilled around them both.
Ruth had braided her hair loosely this morning, though little strands had already escaped and curled around her face. Clara wore a blue dress with one ribbon hanging slightly crooked beneath her chin.
Henry smiled at them, but Ruth frowned as her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Who?” Henry asked innocently.
“Just now,” Ruth said. “Who was leaving?”
Henry shot George a look, but his friend just smiled.
“Oh, that was Dr. Turner,” George said.
If George had been close enough, Henry would’ve stomped on his foot.
“And no one thought to tell me the doctor was here?” Ruth said, placing her hand on her hips as she glared at them both.
George stood abruptly. “Well,” he said, setting down his coffee cup, “how about that riding lesson, Little Miss?”
Clara looked up immediately. “Horse riding?”
“That’s right.”
Clara nodded, her eyes widening in excitement.
George grinned. “We’ll leave you two alone.”
Before either Ruth or Henry could protest, George had already scooped Clara up beneath one arm and headed down the porch steps.
Clara waved enthusiastically. “Bye, Henry!”
Henry watched them go, and as they disappeared around the side of the barn, he turned to look back at Ruth.
She was still staring at him, and the worry in her eyes made his chest tighten.
Gently, he reached for her hand. “Come here.”
Ruth hesitated and then crossed slowly toward him as Henry patted the chair beside him.
“Sit.”
She lowered herself carefully beside him, and for a moment neither spoke. Henry simply held her hand, her fingers fitting naturally against his as though they’d always belonged there.
“I’m all right,” he said softly.
Ruth stared down at their joined hands. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
She shook her head immediately. “You were unconscious for two weeks.” Her voice wavered. “You scared me.”
Henry looked at her quietly. “I know.”
Her eyes filled immediately. “I thought?—?” Her voice broke. “I thought you weren’t coming back.” She lowered her head quickly. “I thought Clara and I would be alone again.”
A knot in his chest twisted painfully. He squeezed her hand gently before looking down at the worn arm of the rocking chair. “Did I ever tell you about these?” he asked.
Ruth blinked. “The chairs?”
Henry nodded. “My father made them and gave them to my mother as a wedding present.” He smiled.
“Pa always said a house wasn’t a home until people sat together on the porch.
” He looked out toward the fields. “Come rain or shine, every morning, they’d sit out here together before work—and every evening, too. ”
Ruth listened quietly.
“They’d tell each other their plans for the day,” he continued, “and then they’d talk about what went wrong.” He looked back at her again. “Sometimes, they didn’t say anything at all. They’d just sit.”
The wind stirred softly around them.
“They grew old doing that. Not old enough, but … they spent years sitting together, sharing this life.”
Henry turned toward her fully then. “That’s what I want,” he said, his thumb brushing slowly across her hand. “I want mornings with you, and I want evenings with you.” His voice lowered. “I want years with you.”
Tears slipped quietly down Ruth’s cheeks, and Henry reached up and brushed one away gently. “You said you were afraid I’d leave you.”
She looked down, but Henry tipped her face back toward him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, “and I promise you the kind of love my father gave my mother.” His forehead rested gently against hers. “The kind that stays.”
Ruth smiled.
“And from this day until my last,” he whispered, “you’ll never stand alone again.”
Her hand rose slowly to his cheek, and Henry kissed her like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it.
They sat there, two bodies and one soul. The rocking chairs swayed gently beneath them while the morning breeze moved through the fields, and somewhere in the distance, Clara’s laughter carried across the ranch.