usually quite reasonable, but this constant interference was unacceptable. “Did Mr. McCoy put you up to this?”
The doctor washed his hands in the basin. “No. Can’t say that he did. It’s simply a treatment course recommended for my gunshot victims. I must say, my gunshot victims are usually men, but the convalescence procedure is the same. These are modern times, I suppose. Not sure I like all the change. Let’s have a look, shall we?”
Deciding it was easier to concede than argue, Anna lifted her arm and tugged her shirt loose, exposing her bandaged side.
She glanced across the room to where Mr. McCoy had suddenly discovered an intense fascination for the flocked wallpaper. Staying annoyed with the man was impossible. Which annoyed her even more.
Dr. Smith perched on a chair near the bed, peeled away the bandage and squinted. “You’re excellent with a needle, Mr. McCoy. Your talents are wasted on livestock. Sorry I missed the excitement firsthand but I was paying a house call on another patient when they came to fetch me after the accident.” He reached for his bag. “While I hate to unravel all your fine work, it’s time we take out the stitches. Might hurt a bit. Can I send for someone?”
Caleb glanced around as though searching for help. “Jo had an errand. Can I fetch Izetta to sit with you?”
“No. She’s home. She’s been running herself ragged.”
“I should leave,” he said brusquely.
“Stay,” she blurted, immediately regretting her outburst. “Talk with me,” she added quickly, covering her embarrassment. “Tell me a story. I’ve read Jo’s letters, the McCoys must be excellent storytellers.”
What on earth was she blubbering about? A little pain was nothing. She didn’t need her hand held like a child.
“I’ll stay,” he said, a wealth of reluctance in his voice.
Though she’d had plenty of visitors, she’d also had too much time alone. She clung to him because he was the one constant in all her confusion, which was understandable.
That wasn’t exactly true. He and Jo and Izetta had become her salvation.
All the logic in the world failed to ease her fear. She didn’t want her independence right then. She wanted someone to hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be all right.
The doctor clipped the first stitch, and Anna hissed a breath, closing her eyes. Caleb’s hesitation said everything. She’d pushed their relationship beyond the boundaries he’d established. A forgivable mistake.
The situation had forced them into a false intimacy, and that state was temporary. She’d do well to remember the distinction. Except she’d lost all of her usual soft landing places. Normally when she was feeling alone or out of sorts, her work filled in the desolate spots. Here there were only four walls decorated with that abysmal olive-colored flocked wallpaper. She much preferred looking at a pair of kind, forest-green eyes. That was her downfall. Those infernal eyes.
Once she was home, certainly she’d forget all about him. Here there was too much time for thinking, too much temptation to read more into a kind gesture or a caring word.
Too much time for realizing that she’d almost died.
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