Cattleman's Courtship. Carolyne Aarsen
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Nicholas ignored his father’s little speech as he poured grounds and hot water into the coffee press. Though it had been fifteen years since Nicholas’s parents’ divorce, Dale had mistrusted women ever since. And that mistrust had seeped into his opinion of Cara. His father’s negative opinion of Cara Morrison hadn’t been encouraging when he and Cara were dating. When Cara broke off the engagement, Dale had tried and failed not to say “I told you so” in many ways, shapes and forms.
“How long she around for this time?” his father asked, pouring the milk over his bowl of cereal.
“Didn’t ask.”
“Probably not long, if she’s like her mom.”
Nicholas didn’t say anything, knowing nothing was required, and he wasn’t going to get pulled into a conversation about Cara.
He thought he had been prepared to see her again. Thought he had successfully pushed her out of his mind. Hadn’t he even dated a number of other girls since Cara?
Again he could feel the miscreant beat of his heart when he turned and saw her standing behind the counter, almost exactly as she had the first time they had met.
That first time he’d seen her, he’d been enchanted with her wide eyes, an unusual shade of brown. The delicate line of her face. She had looked so fragile.
But he knew better.
He’d seen her covered in mud, rain streaming down her face as she helped deliver a foal. He’d seen her do a Cesarean section on a cow in the freezing cold, seen her manhandle calves that weighed almost as much as she did.
Cara Morrison was anything but fragile.
And he was anything but over her.
She left without a word, he told himself. She couldn’t even break up with you to your face. She ran away instead of facing things. Get over it.
So why was he going to church knowing he might see her?
Because he wasn’t the kind of person to run away or get chased away.
He had some pride, he thought, finishing off his apple and tossing the core into the garbage can. And because, when he stayed away from church, his heart felt empty and his soul unnourished.
He said a quick goodbye to his father and ran to his truck. He was already running late.
Half an hour later a helpful usher escorted him to one of the few empty spots in the building. He sat down, got settled in and ended up looking directly at the back of Cara Morrison’s head.
He glanced around, looking for another place to sit, but then the minister came to the front of the church and encouraged everyone to rise and greet their neighbors.
Nicholas immediately turned to the person beside him and then Cara’s aunt called out his name. Was it his imagination or did Cara jump?
“So good to see you here,” Lori Morrison said, catching his hand. He shook Lori’s hand and then, with a sense of inevitability, turned to Cara.
She gave him a tight smile but didn’t offer to shake his hand. “Good morning, Nicholas. Good to see you again.”
“Is it?”
The words came out before he could stop them.
Well, that was brilliant. Nicholas watched Cara slowly turn away from him. Why couldn’t he be as cool as she was? Why couldn’t he return her greeting instead of running the risk of antagonizing her again?
Now she stood with her back to him, the overhead lights catching glints of gold in her hair. Three years ago she wore it short, like a cap. Now it brushed her shoulders, inviting touch.
He crossed his arms, angry at his reaction to her. It had been three years. It was done.
And Nicholas spent the rest of the church service alternately trying to listen to the minister and trying to ignore Cara Morrison.
He was successful at neither.
Finally the minister spoke the benediction. The congregation rose for the final song. As soon as the last note rang out and the minister stood at the back of the church, Nicholas made his escape.
He had his hand on the bar that opened the exterior door when he heard someone call his name. His first impulse was to ignore whoever called him. And he would have managed if the helpful person behind him hadn’t tapped him on the shoulder.
“I believe Mrs. Hughes wants to talk to you,” his neighbor said. He pointed out a thin, short woman waving at him from the top of the stairs in the foyer.
Nicholas smiled his acknowledgment and, with a sigh of resignation, walked back through the crowd of people in the foyer.
He had his hand on the handrail of the steps and looked up in time to see Cara walking down the stairs past Mrs. Hughes.
Cara caught his eye, then glanced quickly away.
Right behind her stood her uncle, Alan Morrison.
Nicholas caught Alan’s piercing gaze. It was as if he were making sure Nicholas didn’t “hurt” his precious niece yet again. Nicholas wanted to reassure him that as far as Cara was concerned, he had gotten the memo long ago.
Then Nicholas saw a look of puzzlement cross Alan’s face as his step faltered. Alan’s hand clutched the handrail on his right side as he cried out.
Then, as if in slow motion, he crumpled and folded in on himself.
Cara turned. Her aunt Lori screamed.
And as Nicholas watched in horror, Alan Morrison fell heavily down the rest of the stairs.
Nicholas was the first one at his side. Cara right behind him. “Call an ambulance,” Nicholas shouted to the people who now milled around.
“Stretch him out.” Cara pulled on Alan’s arm, falling to her knees beside him. “Straighten him out and open his coat.”
Alan’s face held a sickly gray tinge, his eyes like dark bruises, unfocused, staring straight up.
As Nicholas unbuttoned Alan’s suit jacket, Cara placed her hand above his mouth then, bending over, put her mouth on his and gave him two quick breaths.
Her fingers swept his neck, pressing against it.
“No pulse,” she murmured.
“I’ll do the CPR, you take care of the breathing.”
Nicholas counted to himself, one and two, pressing down on each count. Cara was bent over her uncle’s head, breathing for him.
Nicholas felt vaguely aware of the people around them as they worked, Lori crying, someone else telling people to move away.
But for Nicholas, the only thing that existed was the two of them fighting to save Cara’s beloved uncle’s life. A tiny cosmos among the shifting crowd around them.
He didn’t know how long they worked. It seemed like a few moments, a brief snatch of time.
Yet by the time someone called out to make room for the paramedics, the tension knotted his shoulders and the hard floor dug into his knees.
“I’ll take over, sir.” Hands pulled him back as others caught the rhythm he had maintained.
Nicholas caught the glimpse of two uniformed men and he got slowly to his feet, his legs tingling as the blood rushed back to them.
Another paramedic strapped an oxygen mask on Alan’s head, manually pumping life-giving oxygen into him.
Cara sat back, her hands hanging slack by her side, her eyes huge in her pale face.
Nicholas tried to work his way around Alan to be at her side. But someone else took her by the shoulders. Lifted her up. Held her as she visibly trembled.
That’s my job, my place, he thought, feeling ineffective