“What’s happened?” The doctor came into view, wiping his hands on a towel.
She put a hand to her heart. Thank God! “It’s my father. I need you to come quick. He’s collapsed, and I can’t wake him.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me get my bag. You head on home, and I’ll follow as fast as I can.”
She nodded and headed outside. Using the porch to give her height, she brought the horse close and climbed onto his back. “Good boy. Now take us home.”
All the way home, tears flowed down her face.Please, God, I still need him. Please ... heal him.
It sounded selfish to her ears, but she continued to beg and plead with the Almighty.
Her home in her view, she stiffened her shoulders and forced herself to stop crying. Now was the time to be strong.
She left her horse at the door where he could munch on some grass and raced back inside. Hoping and praying that her father would be up and around. “Dad?”
But when she rounded the corner to his study, she found him right where she’d left him. Getting down on her knees, she placed a hand over his heart. The faint rhythm of his heartbeat accompanied the lift of his chest.
He was still alive.
“Miss Lakeman?” The doctor’s voice called out.
“Back here!” She stayed by Dad’s side.
His footsteps echoed in the hall.
“May I?” He pointed to where she sat on the floor.
“Oh, yes, please.” She jumped to her feet and backed away, clearing books and papers with her boots. Anna pulled the hankie from her sleeve and twisted it around her fingers.
Doc Walsh put his head to her father’s chest. Then lifted his eyelids to look at his eyes. He pulled several contraptions out of his bag and spread them out on the floor. “Would you mind making some strong coffee?”
“Not at all.”
The doctor moved so she could exit the room.
As she strode toward the kitchen, she gulped down a steadying breath. Then another. And another. The doctor was here. Surely all would be right soon enough. Dad was still breathing. His heart was still beating.
She poured beans in the coffee grinder and cranked the handle. Dumping the ground contents into the pot on the cookstove, she looked around for the bucket and realized she hadn’t brought it in from the pump. As she walked out to the pump by the well, she focused on the task at hand. It was a much-needed distraction.
Out at the pump, she cranked the handle and filled the bucket with water. But tears sprang to her eyes again. Dad had talked about having a pump put into their kitchen. To save her from having to go in and out for water. It had been so sweet of him to think of her.
He’d always been that way.
Ever since her mother passed, he’d tried to fill both roles in Anna’s life. A task that was impossible—but he still tried.
With a full bucket, she dried another set of tears with one hand, and carried the water in with the other. Hopefully the news from the doctor would be good.
And soon.
She poured the water over the coffee grounds and placed the pot on to boil. After giving the stove a stoking, she wiped her hands on her apron and gazed around. What else could she do?
Movement sounded down the hall and she sucked in a mouthful of air.
But the doctor didn’t appear.
More shuffling and then footsteps.
Doc Walsh entered the kitchen this time. “Anna?” His voice held a bit of resignation.
