Page 7 of A Forgotten Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #5)

Y ou are the one thing I would never forget.

Nick’s words rattled inside Elsie’s brain long after he’d fallen asleep. His tenderness had taken her off guard, and she was still shaken.

How much longer would this storm last? They’d already been trapped overnight. It was now morning. At least, she thought it was morning. The hours were starting to run together, and the heavy clouds made it difficult to tell.

She sat in her chair and watched him sleep. Gone were the fury and disdain he’d shown yesterday. If she didn’t know better, she could almost believe he’d meant those words.

She was going to drive herself crazy.

He didn’t love her. He didn’t.

The storm beat against the walls. Instead of lifting, it seemed to have intensified. Low, thick clouds darkened the midday sun.

The walls shrank in around her.

Why had Nick acted so nice when he’d woken up? Like he wanted her there. It muddled her head.

Her heart couldn’t handle this. Especially when she knew what was coming. He would wake up, take one look at her, and demand she leave.

She tried to steel herself. Think of something else. Her reputation was on the line. No one but the doctor knew she was stranded with Nick. If the school board found out she’d stayed with an unwed man during the storm overnight, she could lose her position.

The schoolteacher contract she’d signed made it clear that her life must be above reproach. Staying overnight with Nick? It wouldn’t matter that he was injured and unconscious. People would talk.

She shivered as cold air seeped in from the corners of the room.

Somehow, she must find someone else to take over as Nick’s caregiver.

On the wings of that thought, her stomach released a loud growl. How long had it been since she’d eaten? And what about Nick? He’d been asleep for hours and might wake up hungry. Was there any food to be found?

She got up to look, tiptoeing out of the room. Her footsteps echoed down the empty hall toward the small room in the back of the clinic.

This room had a water pump to the left and a set of cabinets along the far wall. In the corner stood the cast-iron stove. The only stove in the clinic. And rather small for the size of the space.

She hurried to the cupboard and swung open the door. Glass jars containing herbs and tinctures sat inside. She closed it and opened the next. Bandages. Only more of the same. As well as the next and then the next.

Nothing to fill their stomachs.

A chill passed over her. Rubbing her arms, she moved to the tinder box to add a log to the stove. She hesitated. The box was running low as well. It wouldn’t be long and they’d need more wood.

No food. No wood. No help.

Her heels clicked on the floorboard as she hurried toward the front window. The drifting snow rippled down the boardwalk in front of the clinic, but a wall of white blocked her view.

If the storm lasted more than another few hours, she and Nick would be in serious trouble.

There was a café across the street, past the town square. It was less than a block away—but it might as well be a mile in a blizzard like this.

What if the owner or a cook had hunkered down at the café? She could find food. And help.

Decision made, she grabbed her scarf and wrapped it around her head and then pushed her arms into her coat sleeves.

She pulled her gloves out of her pocket, now dry but stiff with Nick’s blood. She grimaced and glanced over at Nick’s coat. Nick’s gloves were a much better choice.

She pulled them on but stilled, the felt inner lining familiar against her skin. Not so long ago, she and Nick would take walks together, even in the cold. Once, or twice maybe, she’d forgotten her gloves.

When he’d noticed, he’d taken her hands in his and blown warmth over them before sliding his gloves over her fingers. She could almost feel his hand wrapping around hers. Feel the swoop of her stomach at the warm intensity in his eyes.

She gave a quick shake of her head to rid herself of the memory.

She must hurry. Find help before Nick woke.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the clinic door. A blast of wind caught the door and nearly whipped it out of her hand. She pulled it closed with both hands.

The squall grabbed her skirts and whipped them around like a sail, nearly yanking her off her feet. This was a bad idea. But what choice did she have?

She leaned into the wind and held her scarf with both hands to keep it from blowing away. Trudging toward the end of the boardwalk, she misjudged the end, and her foot sank deep into the fresh powder. It threw off her balance, and she stumbled forward.

The snow whirled around her like a cyclone as she trudged across the street.

She should be nearing the square by now, but all she could see was white.

She looked over her shoulder to judge how far she’d come, but the clinic had disappeared behind a wall of white.

Disoriented, she stilled on the spot, her pulse skittered in her neck. Was she lost?

She searched to the right and to the left. The world had evaporated into a storm so thick she thought it might smother her. Even her footprints had already been covered.

Oh, God. Help .

She moved forward, step by step, until her shins slammed into the boardwalk. She’d made it!

Brown planks of a building materialized out of the white. With one hand on the building, she followed the wall until she came to a door. When it opened, the wind shoved her body through it.

Every muscle fiber shivered as she scanned the shadowed room. Tables and chairs. A serving counter.

The restaurant.

But it only took a moment to register that the building was vacant. Cool air swirled around her feet. It was barely warmer in here than outside.

Some of the tables hadn’t been wiped clean, and a few chairs looked as if someone had simply gotten up and walked away. Like they’d been in too big of a hurry to tidy up.

The scent of bread lingered in the air, and her stomach growled.

“Hello?” she called.

No answer.

She wasn’t one for fanciful imaginings, but it felt a bit as if she were the only one left in town.

With every limb trembling, she forced her frozen toes toward the kitchen, her drenched skirts leaving behind her a trail of melting snow.

In the kitchen, she pulled off Nick’s gloves and stashed them in her pocket. Her fingers were red and stiff as she gathered flour, eggs, and milk into a sack. At least she could make him some biscuits.

Her hand hovered over a brick of butter, the motion triggering a memory buried in the recesses of her mind. Back when she and Nick had snuck into the kitchen late one night during Christmas break.

Most of the other students had left for the holiday, but she’d lodged at school. It hadn’t been until later that she’d learned Nick had postponed his trip home so he could stay with her. No one had ever done something like that for her before.

That night, it’d been his idea to make a meal. She’d chopped vegetables for the stew as he made the biscuits. His calm confidence had entranced her, and she hadn’t been able to stop watching his hands as he formed the dough on a pan.

He’d caught her staring, and her cheeks had heated, but instead of embarrassing her, he’d only winked and kept cooking.

After the meal, when they’d been washing dishes together, hands in sudsy water, he’d turned her face to his with a moist knuckle beneath her chin.

And kissed her.

She blinked, the chill of her surroundings whisking her from the memory.

Old grief pressed in around her heart until it broke all over again.

I hope you forget me as quickly as I’m going to forget you.

Nick’s furious words from that terrible night echoed in her mind, their sting fresh.

She blinked away the tears and snatched the butter, her movements jerky and a little shaky as she added it to the sack.

The wound on Nick’s head would heal. His memories would return, and he’d hate her just as much as before.

She couldn’t let herself become confused by his kindness.

Before she left, she found a pencil and paper at the counter and wrote down exactly what items she’d taken along with her name. She would repay the café as soon as the storm broke.

She’d found food, but not the help she sought. What now?

Nick rolled his head from side to side, the words echoing through his dream.

You couldn’t have had real feelings for me. Not when you were willing to walk away so quickly.

He’d know Elsie’s voice anywhere, but who was she talking to? It couldn’t be him, yet the words were familiar.

He would never walk away from her.

Beneath the surface of consciousness, the pain in his shoulder and head throbbed. He didn’t want to wake up, but something niggled in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong.

Words flowed again.

You walked away from me first.

That sounded like his voice, but it couldn’t be.

We’ll never be friends.

Those words sank in deep and struck a wound he didn’t know he had.

He dragged himself into consciousness, forcing his eyes open. Where was Elsie?

“Elsie?” His dry lips cracked as he said her name.

A stab of pain sliced through his head. He raised a hand, and his fingers brushed against a bandage covering his forehead. He allowed his eyes to close. What had happened?

He’d been shot. The knowledge sank in.

He heard Elsie’s skirts swish into the room, stop somewhere near.

He gritted his teeth against the pain and peeled open his eyelids. Elsie stood a few feet away, avoiding his eyes, her hands fisted at her sides.

“Are you all right?” she asked stiffly.

He wasn’t. The ugly feeling left behind from his dreams swirled in his gut.

“Elsie.” He rose up onto the arm that didn’t hurt as much. The room started to spin, and he blinked slowly.

Elsie stepped to his side. “Don’t get up.”

He couldn’t if he wanted to, not with being so off-balance.

She pushed gently on his shoulder. “You’re going to undo all of the doctor’s stitches. Then where will you be? I could hardly watch when he sewed you up the first time.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead. “You stayed and watched? You must love me.”

She frowned, already moving across the room. “I have some biscuits ready. Stay still.” She called the words over her shoulder as she scurried out of the room.

He watched the doorway where she’d disappeared.

Why was she keeping so much distance between them? Acting like she was mad. Or hurt. The angry words swirling through the fog of his brain might be a clue. Had they fought?

Pain pulsed in his shoulder and head as he waited for her to return. He tried to force his brain to make sense of the kaleidoscope of images he’d had since he’d woken at the doc’s office the first time.

Why weren’t he and Elsie at the family homestead? Where were his brothers?

He could remember a calving season, riding with Ed. Drew scolding him. Isaac playing checkers. Nothing more recent.

She bustled back in carrying a plate with a biscuit. Her eyes focused on the floor. “I’m sorry, but I could only scrounge up ingredients for biscuits. You probably need a stew or soup, but at least you won’t starve.”

She put the plate in front of where he remained propped on his elbow and retreated a few steps.

He didn’t want her to leave.

“How’s your family?” he blurted. “I bet Darcy is missing you.”

Her jaw stiffened, a sheen glistening in her eyes. Did that mean her parents were once again making demands? “El, they left you over Christmas to go on holiday back east. They shouldn’t expect you to be at their beck and call.”

Her eyes shot to his. “I’m not at their beck and call. I want to be there for them. Like they were there for me. What’s wrong with that?”

He must be a little scrambled in the head. He knew she wanted to please them. Especially her mother. She always said she owed it to them to make them happy, although he never understood why.

Still, he shouldn’t have asked a question he knew would be a trigger point. “I’m sorry, El. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be there for your parents. Your kind heart is something I fell in love with.”

Her heart-shaped mouth dipped at the corners, a look that always squeezed his chest. But when she bit her lip to keep it from quivering, it about undid him. “Ah, El?—”

A giant piece of biscuit was shoved into his mouth. “Why don’t you eat and stop talking.”

He chewed but didn’t take his eyes from her. Even if she did avoid his gaze like she might turn to stone if she met his eyes.

A blast of wind slammed into the window, making it rattle. Elsie whipped her head toward the sound, the plate in her hand trembling.

She set the plate down and moved to the window with arms crossed over her middle, staring outside. Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Conversation usually passed so easily between them.

She’d been shy when they first met. He remembered how he used to do little tricks to get her to talk with him back then.

He tossed his pencil on the floor in front of her as she tried to pass him by in the library. She stopped and stared at it, so he added a ruler on top of it.

Finally, she rolled her eyes and picked up the pencil. She started to hand it back to him, but then she pulled it away and stuck it in her hair, smirking, eyes dancing.

She came to sit with him. Although they talked more than studied.

He didn’t have a pencil this time.

He scooted his blanket until it slipped to the floor. She must’ve noticed, but she remained still.

“I seem to have dropped my blanket.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment he thought she would refuse, but she slowly crossed the room. Bent to retrieve the blanket.

Warmth covered him again as she tucked the blanket over him.

He grasped her hand before she could pull away.

She froze, staring at the place where their hands were connected.

She tugged, but he didn’t let go.

“Did we have a fight?”

Her exhale shuddered. “You should get your rest.”

“El?”

Her fingers trembled as she looked away. “Yes.”

No explanation followed.

“Please, El. You’re my wife. What can I do to fix this?”

She jerked her hand from his. “Nothing can fix this.”

She spun and left the room, leaving him shaken.

He’d pushed too hard.

Whatever had happened must’ve been big. Elsie was levelheaded and kind. She wouldn’t have walls up for no reason.

He didn’t know what had passed between them, and trying to push through the blankness to locate the memories only doubled the pain in his head until he had to lie back down.

He didn’t know what had happened, but he would do anything to fix his marriage.

Anything.

Because he loved Elsie too much to let her go.