she’d been tempted to explore what Perry had to offer when he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in her. Sometimes a woman didn’t want to be in control, at least she didn’t. She had no need to always have her way.
Her parents’ relationship had been more of a partnership, full of a constant push and pull. What she could remember, anyway. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift toward the past, back to when her mother was still cancer-free and vibrant. Frannie recalled her mother busily bossing her father around the kitchen, and then his teasing whenever she tried to reorganize the cellar.
They’d playfully argue about all sorts of things. Their marriage had been noisy and full of life.
She wanted that. That give and take. A man who was a match, not a man who only wanted to do as she bid. But she also knew that what she wanted wasn’t necessarily what she needed.
A union with Micah would never be full of fiery arguments, or even much teasing laughter. That wasn’t Micah’s way.
But she would feel catered to and cared for. And she had no doubt that if they both tried, they would have a happy marriage. Perhaps even years of compatible living.
What else could she possibly want, really?
Who else?
It was a fine question. Because there was no one else sitting beside her bed. Only Micah. Who patiently sat. Even though they had little to talk about, he never questioned her or did anything other than make her feel like she was the best part of his life.
He was so terribly loyal.
Surely, there were worse things to start a marriage with? . . .
“Frannie, are you back asleep?” he whispered. “Frannie, I thought maybe we could talk about our future some. You know . . . me and you?” He cleared his throat. Leaned so close she could smell the lingering scent of horse on his clothes. “I care for you, Frannie, though I expect you know that.”
Here he was. Finally initiating a conversation. But perversely, she now didn’t want anything to do with it. Like the coward she was, she kept her body still.
“I think you’ve always known how much I care for you,” he continued. “I think we would have a wonderful-gut union. For sure.”
A union? Was he talking about their relationship now? While she was wrapped up in a hospital sheet, had a tube stuck in her hand, a bandaged eye, and was pretending to sleep?
But if she opened her eye and turned to him, he would expect her to talk. To ask him more questions. To make the plans for their future together. To tell him what to do, what to say.
And at the moment, she didn’t think she could do anything more than just lie there. She tightly held her eyes closed and let him continue to think she was sleeping.
Go away, she silently pleaded.
What felt like hours later, he stood up and walked out—leaving her feeling slightly guilty but relieved, too. She heard the curtain part and him as he stepped across the linoleum with sure, even steps, and then the door open and close.
He was gone.
She sighed.
“That man is an eager one, huh?” said the voice from the other side of the curtain.
With a flood of embarrassment, Frannie realized the voice was the other patient . . . and that she’d heard every single word that had been said.
Feeling awkward, she went ahead and answered. “Yes. He is.”
“In my day, the men didn’t propose at the hospital. Wasn’t seemly.”
“He didn’t propose.”
“Sounded like he was about to!”
No, she thought. He’d been waiting for her to suggest it. But there was no use in explaining that to a stranger. “Perhaps.”
“Hope you’ll weigh your decision carefully. I’m not at all sure he’s the man for you.”
Intrigued, Frannie said, “Why do you say so?”
“He’s too weak-willed. A woman needs a strong man to hold her up from time to time. Just like a strong man needs a strong woman to allow him to show weakness once in a while.”
Was Frannie strong? Yes, she supposed she was. Suddenly, she was feeling a little better. “If he asks,” she said, “I’ll be sure to think about my answer.”
“Good, good.”
The woman coughed a bit, then picked up her phone when it rang. She began to talk about her sheepdog and her boss’s terrible habits.
She talked so much, and in such a speedy, friendly-sounding way, the words began to blend together. Before long, Frannie closed her eyes and