11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Charlotte had just finished dusting and picked up the broom to sweep the front room when the doctor returned. She greeted him, then her smile faded. He looked upset. Was he unhappy? She couldn't tell, but there was a strange feeling about him.

He looked at her when she spoke, but it was as if his eyes didn't see her. Chills came over Charlotte, and she wondered what had happened in the short time that he'd been out.

"Justin?" she asked softly. "Are you all right?"

He shook himself and nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. I just…there were some things on my mind. That is all."

She nodded and set the broom down, stepping closer. Her eyes scanned him once more. His eyes were tight, as were the corners of his mouth. He was a little flushed, and his knuckles were white from where he clenched his fists.

She wasn't sure if she should say anything, but couldn't stop herself. "You…aren't alright," she said softly. "I can tell. Can I help in any way? You are always taking care of others, but there is no one to take care of you. Let me do that. Please?"

He didn't answer, but stepped closer. His face softened, and he reached for her hands, which she willingly gave.

"Please?" she whispered again. "Tell me what has happened."

"Charlotte," he said, his voice almost inaudible.

He shook his head and started to pull away, but she tightened her grip on his hands. She could have sworn that his gaze focused for a moment on her lips.

When Justin met her eyes again, she saw conflicting emotions. Worry, fear, anger, hurt. It made her ache inside. It wasn't directed toward her, she knew this—but who? Who had done something so terrible that he was suffering so? A thought came to her then. He was a doctor. Sometimes, patients didn't recover. Was that what had happened just now? Had he lost a patient? He was such a caring man, he felt things deeper than he usually let on. Was this an instance where so much pain filled him that he leaked out?

"Charlotte," he said again, and his voice cracked.

"You can tell me," she promised. "I'm here for you. "

Somehow, they'd moved close, so close they were mere inches away. If someone had walked in just then, they would have mistaken the two of them for being in a compromising position.

A heavy weight settled in the room. It felt nearly suffocating. The pressure filled Charlotte's chest, pushed against her throat, and she struggled to breathe.

"Did you ever think," Justin finally said, his eyes boring into her, "that perhaps what you thought you wanted wasn't what you needed? That it wasn't the right thing for you? And that something else, something better was also waiting…you just didn't know it?"

His words confused her. What was he talking about? It was almost as though he knew about her worries over August. She couldn't answer for that dreadful tightness and shook her head slightly.

"Or have you ever experienced happiness, complete and utter bliss right there…just within your grasp, but you didn't dare reach for it? Knew you couldn't? It didn't belong to you?" He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, such pain registered upon his face that Charlotte felt tears springing to her eyes.

"Charlotte," he whispered. "I want to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" she whispered when he didn't continue.

He swallowed visibly and moved almost impossibly closer. "Tell you that—"

A scream filled their ears. Startled, both backed away, the spell in the room broken. Outside, shouts and cries of terror filled the air, and Justin raced to the door, Charlotte right behind him.

The streets were chaos. Charlotte scanned the area and watched as people ran from all directions to a child lying in the street.

"It was a loose horse," a man told the sheriff, who had kneeled down next to the doctor. "Just caught it and took it to the stable. Broke loose and got spooked."

Charlotte hurried over. "Do you want your bag?" she asked, surprised at the calmness in her voice.

"Yes," Justin answered. "I don't know if we can move him, yet."

In a moment she was back, his heavy doctor's bag in her hand. She placed it next to him on the ground. Charlotte bent down and looked at the child, who was only about six years old. One arm was in a grotesque position, and his left leg was at an awkward angle. The child's eyes were closed.

"Who does he belong to?" Justin asked.

"Butcher's lad," the blacksmith said. "Already sent my boy to tell him."

The words were hardly out of his mouth before the butcher raced up the street and fell to his knees. "My boy! Doctor, can you help him?"

Justin didn't answer at first. He'd been running his fingers over the boy's body. He listened to his heart, checked the child's pulse, and then sat back on his heels. "Yes. I think he will be fine. Other than the obviously broken arm and leg. I don't see an injury to his head. I think the horse knocked him out of the way as he ran past, and that's how he ended up here. Quite possibly he is unconscious from the pain."

Justin looked for her and said, "Charlotte, we will move him to his house, but I think I need to bind his limbs to prevent more injury as we do. Can you return to the office and get me a canvas to move him on and strips of cloth? Afterward, I'll need you to bring me the standard items that we use for broken limbs. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Charlotte said, already rushing back to the doctor's office. She grabbed the canvas and cloth, then returned, seeking the large basket she knew was in the supply room.

Charlotte filled it with several medicines and ointments, clean bandages, strips of cloth, several of the tools she'd seen the doctor use and knew were not in his bag, and then lugged the heavy basket out of the office.

The street was still filled with people, and the sheriff saw her struggling and grabbed the basket. "Let me help you," he said. "I'll lead the way to their home."

"Thank you, Sheriff Steele," Charlotte said, hurrying next to him.

When they arrived, the house was in a state of almost calm. Charlotte wondered at how the doctor always seemed to project that when he was working. It was soothing for the patient. Had she not been with him moments before to see the absolute anguish upon his face and in his eyes, she'd have never thought he'd been struggling with anything in his life.

"Thank you," he said, reaching for the basket the sheriff had relinquished to her.

Their hands met, and Charlotte felt a small shock. If the doctor had felt it, he showed no sign.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hunter," Justin said, "Would you be so kind as to wait outside? Charlotte and I will tend to your boy, and I'll then speak with you in a few moments when we are done."

Mrs. Hunter nodded, still twisting her hands around, and left, murmuring something about making tea. Mr. Hunter followed her out and shut the door behind him.

Justin let out a soft sigh of relief. His face was focused, and Charlotte knew that all of his attention was on the young boy before him. She also knew in times like these, loved ones could be a distraction, especially in such a small space, and he needed room to work and concentrate.

"He was waking up as we brought him here," he told her, "and once I made sure there was no concussion, I gave laudanum to make him sleep. Should he wake while we set the bones, give him a few drops more. Only a few drops."

She nodded .

The doctor worked patiently, carefully. Charlotte assisted in cutting away the boy's shirt and pants to allow access to his wounded limbs. They worked in silence, and at least a half hour had passed. Painstakingly, Justin worked, hunched over and sweat beading on his brow. Charlotte observed how gentle he was in his ministrations, his long fingers deft in their movements.

Those same fingers that had wrapped around hers just an hour before.

The idea came from nowhere, and internally, she jolted. How was it that the reminder sent a tiny spark of lightning through her?

Another thought came just as quickly. Why was it that August did not? Did that mean something?

"Hand me that strip of cloth," Justin said.

She did as he asked. They were nearly finished. Justin wound the bandage, then reached into his bag for a small bottle which he set near the bed. He leaned back, sitting into a chair, and rested his head in his hands. He looked exhausted. Though he never spoke of it, Charlotte knew there was a great deal of exertion, mentally and physically, when dealing with severe injuries.

Charlotte covered the child with a quilt. When she straightened, Justin was standing. He gave her a warm smile. "You were a tremendous help. Thank you."

She wanted to say more. Wanted to reach out and touch him, but it wasn't proper to do so. They were in someone's home, there was a patient nearby, and she had no indication that he would even welcome that. So, she simply nodded.

"Let me collect your things while you speak with the Hunters," she said instead.

He nodded and went to the door, but Charlotte didn't miss the brush of his hand against her lower back, nor the tingles that it left.

Charlotte gathered his medical supplies, and then clutched his bag, closing her eyes for a moment. Had she not been so sure it was an accident, a mere brush from the small space and how near they were to each other, she'd have wondered if what he'd been wanting to tell her earlier had anything to do with an attraction toward her.

It was foolish. She knew it was. The doctor was kind to everyone. It was his job. His natural manner. It didn't mean that he found her attractive or liked her beyond friendship.

The doctor had endless redeeming qualities, and she enjoyed being around him and the effortless way they spoke. She was letting her hesitation about August muddle her feelings, that was all.

As they left the Hunters and walked down the street in silence, Charlotte glanced at Justin beneath her lashes. He looked tired, but at ease. They traded smiles when he glanced at her. For some reason she couldn't understand, her cheeks pinked .

As they approached the office, he opened the door for her. "I'll make us some tea," she offered. "You are more than deserving of a break."

Charlotte climbed the back stairs to Justin's private rooms and set about at his little stove. She enjoyed being here. But while the water heated, a devastating thought came to her.

When she was married to August, she'd never have these moments with Justin again. No treating patients, no anticipating his needs before he spoke of them, not even moments where she'd make tea and they'd simply sit and talk.

A terrible emptiness filled her at the idea.