easily. Luke’s boots traced a worn path on the planks of the front porch, walking in the footsteps of many worried people awaiting news of a patient from inside the two-story structure. He stopped in front of the open door to peer inside. The entry hall bore evidence that the doctor was married. A lace cloth draped a small table placed against the left-hand wall, and a couple of fancy glass dishes were displayed on top of it. A wide set of stairs led to the second floor, where the doctor and his missus presumably lived. The only person in evidence was Jonas, who stood at the opposite end of a short hallway next to a closed door.
He did not look up at Luke. He hadn’t spoken to him or met his eye since he arrived.
Not that Luke blamed him. It was his fault Emma had been injured. He’d handled the conversation badly. No wonder she’d been offended and charged off blindly in the wrong direction. She’d surprised him by asking if he would become Amish, and his reaction had obviously hurt her feelings.
And what was behind her question, anyway? He could only think of one reason. If he became Amish, they could marry with the blessing of her family and her church.
Marry.
The word sent dual shivers down his spine, because the idea of him becoming Amish for any reason was so outrageous he couldn’t pretend to give it serious consideration. Him, be like Jonas? His faith was nothing like Jonas’s, his convictions shallow in comparison. He’d been raised to love the Lord and love the Bible, but the Plain life an Amish man had to embrace? Jonas was right. Luke couldn’t begin to understand.
The second shiver came with the realization that Emma would ever consider marrying him. She had put quite a bit of thought into it, in fact, to come up with her idea. That could only mean one thing. She loved him. Not merely that she shared the attraction he felt, but she felt that same invisible bond that had somehow snaked around them and drawn them together.
Emma loved him. And, he realized, he loved her.
The sight of her penned in the midst of those cattle had nearly scared the life out of him. He’d forced his horse into the herd, kicking cows with his boots and shouting to catch the attention of the nearest stockmen. When he finally reached her, after an eternity of frantic, whispered prayers while wading through a sea of beef, he threw himself from the saddle into the press. He still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d managed to force those two steers apart to release her. Maybe his panic gave him extra strength, or maybe it was the prayers. But he’d lifted her into his arms and carried her out.
Directed by shouting townspeople, Luke had run—literally—toward the doctor’s house while Emma’s soft sobs filled his ears. He’d met the rotund little man in the street on his way to examine Jesse, and he immediately turned around so that Luke could follow him back home.
After carrying Emma down a short hallway and gently laying her down on a narrow bed in what was apparently an examining room, Luke was shooed out of the room. The doctor wouldn’t even let Jonas in when he arrived, only Mrs. Switzer and Rebecca, who were with Emma now.
What was taking so long? He strode across the planks to peer inside again. No change, except that now Jonas stood with his head thrown back, his face pointed toward the ceiling with his eyes closed. Praying, probably. Which suddenly sounded like a very good idea.
No prayers came to mind, only a frantic request. Lord, don’t let her die. Please.
Noise from inside the house sent him scurrying back to the doorway. The doctor emerged from the examining room, followed by Mrs. Switzer and Rebecca. He spoke to Jonas, his voice loud enough to carry down the short hallway to Luke.
“A couple of her ribs are broken. As far as I can tell that’s all, though she’ll need to stay here for a day or two so I can keep a watch on her. I’ve wrapped them, and also given her a salve for those scrapes on her face, which will help them to heal without scarring. It’s going to hurt to breathe for a few weeks, but I think she’ll be fine.”
Air left Luke’s lungs. He sagged against the doorjamb. She was going to be fine. She wasn’t going to