A Time to Love by Barbara Cameron Read Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Cameron
barn at his farm. As she walked closer and he exited the barn, he caught sight of her and waved. She waved back. He watched her progress for a long moment and then went back into the barn. Probably working, she thought. Work never stopped on a farm, especially an Amish farm.
Perhaps it was because she was looking in his direction and not concentrating on her steps that she hit a slippery patch of ice on the road. The world tilted as she fell. She cried out as she landed hard, jarring her sore hip.
The snow was cold and wet beneath her. The harder she tried to use her cane to get up, the more she failed. Tears of frustration sprang into her eyes and finally she gave up and just sat there.
Looking left and then right, she didn't see any vehicles of any kind. Several minutes before there had been traffic. Now there was nothing.
The day was so quiet. She couldn't remember ever being in a place that was so quiet. No birds singing. No airplanes overhead. No—anything.
She'd never felt so alone.
Anxiety came creeping in along with the cold and damp beneath her. She caught her breath and told herself to calm down. The road wasn't heavily traveled but someone would come along.
She'd be frozen by then.
Her heart was pounding, even though she hadn't moved. Pounding. She could hear it trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her head felt light. Maybe she was so cold the blood wasn't moving. No, now she was sweating, so hot she felt she'd melt the snow beneath her. Then cold again.
She'd felt like this before, when she'd woken up in the hospital and realized what had happened to her. When she'd tried to walk the first time during physical therapy but couldn't.
It was anxiety, pure and simple.
Breathe! she ordered herself. Everything's going to be all right. It was daytime. Someone would surely come this way soon. She might be getting really cold, but she doubted that she was in danger of hypothermia.
"Or frostbite where I sit down," she muttered and then she laughed. Good, she told herself, facing anxiety with humor helps.
She rolled over on her hands and knees and tried to push up to her feet using her cane. But she couldn't get any traction and came down hard.
This was what she got for feeling sorry for herself, for complaining about being shut up in her grandmother's nice, warm farmhouse down the road. Sitting before the fire, tucked under a quilt, sipping a cup of hot tea sounded pretty good right now.
No, she wouldn't berate herself for venturing out. She was proud of herself for doing it. If she got any colder, though, she'd be her own statue to courage, a frozen sculpture for all to see until the spring thaw.
She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Footsteps crunched on the snow. Jenny looked up to see Matthew walking rapidly toward her. His expression was concerned as he crouched down in front of her. "Did you fall?"
"Just thought I'd take a little rest," she told him tartly.
"Kind of a cold place to sit," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding her gravely. But she saw the twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Okay, okay, help me up," she requested, holding out her hand.
"You sure? I wouldn't want to interrupt your rest."
"Now, before I turn into a Popsicle." Then, remembering her manners, she added, "Please."
He took her hand and pulled her up effortlessly, steadying her until she got her feet securely under her, then he reached down for her cane and handed it to her.
Jenny winced as her hip took her weight and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Determined, she took a few steps.
"Did you injure yourself?" he asked her, solicitous.
"Yes—no," she said. "I don't know. Everything hurts right now."
She tried to take another step and moaned.
"Let me carry you."
"Oh, I'll be okay."
He reached into a pocket of his coat, pulled out a snowy handkerchief, then touched it to her lips before she could react. When he showed it to her, she saw that it was stained with blood. She must have bitten her
Perhaps it was because she was looking in his direction and not concentrating on her steps that she hit a slippery patch of ice on the road. The world tilted as she fell. She cried out as she landed hard, jarring her sore hip.
The snow was cold and wet beneath her. The harder she tried to use her cane to get up, the more she failed. Tears of frustration sprang into her eyes and finally she gave up and just sat there.
Looking left and then right, she didn't see any vehicles of any kind. Several minutes before there had been traffic. Now there was nothing.
The day was so quiet. She couldn't remember ever being in a place that was so quiet. No birds singing. No airplanes overhead. No—anything.
She'd never felt so alone.
Anxiety came creeping in along with the cold and damp beneath her. She caught her breath and told herself to calm down. The road wasn't heavily traveled but someone would come along.
She'd be frozen by then.
Her heart was pounding, even though she hadn't moved. Pounding. She could hear it trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her head felt light. Maybe she was so cold the blood wasn't moving. No, now she was sweating, so hot she felt she'd melt the snow beneath her. Then cold again.
She'd felt like this before, when she'd woken up in the hospital and realized what had happened to her. When she'd tried to walk the first time during physical therapy but couldn't.
It was anxiety, pure and simple.
Breathe! she ordered herself. Everything's going to be all right. It was daytime. Someone would surely come this way soon. She might be getting really cold, but she doubted that she was in danger of hypothermia.
"Or frostbite where I sit down," she muttered and then she laughed. Good, she told herself, facing anxiety with humor helps.
She rolled over on her hands and knees and tried to push up to her feet using her cane. But she couldn't get any traction and came down hard.
This was what she got for feeling sorry for herself, for complaining about being shut up in her grandmother's nice, warm farmhouse down the road. Sitting before the fire, tucked under a quilt, sipping a cup of hot tea sounded pretty good right now.
No, she wouldn't berate herself for venturing out. She was proud of herself for doing it. If she got any colder, though, she'd be her own statue to courage, a frozen sculpture for all to see until the spring thaw.
She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Footsteps crunched on the snow. Jenny looked up to see Matthew walking rapidly toward her. His expression was concerned as he crouched down in front of her. "Did you fall?"
"Just thought I'd take a little rest," she told him tartly.
"Kind of a cold place to sit," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding her gravely. But she saw the twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Okay, okay, help me up," she requested, holding out her hand.
"You sure? I wouldn't want to interrupt your rest."
"Now, before I turn into a Popsicle." Then, remembering her manners, she added, "Please."
He took her hand and pulled her up effortlessly, steadying her until she got her feet securely under her, then he reached down for her cane and handed it to her.
Jenny winced as her hip took her weight and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Determined, she took a few steps.
"Did you injure yourself?" he asked her, solicitous.
"Yes—no," she said. "I don't know. Everything hurts right now."
She tried to take another step and moaned.
"Let me carry you."
"Oh, I'll be okay."
He reached into a pocket of his coat, pulled out a snowy handkerchief, then touched it to her lips before she could react. When he showed it to her, she saw that it was stained with blood. She must have bitten her