“Scheduled hours.”
Ellie slid paper toward him.
“Sanitation requirements.”
Another page.
“Emergency availability.”
Another.
“And no drinking while on call.”
Morrison’s face reddened.
“You cannot dictate terms to a physician.”
Ellie smiled.
“I own the floor beneath your boots.”
He stared.
“Would you like to read the contract?”
He eventually signed.
Not happily.
But sober.
Three weeks passed.
Ellie wrote Jasper every four days.
The first letter was practical.
Your wound should be fully closed now. Do not assume that means you may split timber like an idiot.
His reply arrived with Samuel.
Dear Nurse,
I split only small timber, which I assume makes me a smaller idiot.
The cabin is quiet.
The coffee remains excellent despite your slander.
Come back when you decide you want to.
Jasper.
Ellie read the line three times.
Come back when you decide you want to.
Not need.
Not should.
Want.
Her second letter was longer.
She told him about Mercer.
The clinic renovation.
The new midwife.
Jasper replied with one sentence about Mercer.
Do you need me to frighten him?
Ellie wrote beneath it.
No.
Then added.
Maybe eventually.
She smiled for an hour.
By the fourth week, the clinic became hers officially.
Not merely the property.
The work.
She renamed it.
Copper Falls Community Infirmary.
No person’s name.
No wealthy donor’s name.
No Cain.
No Caldwell.
Community.
Jasper sent money.
Ellie returned it.
He sent again anonymously.
She recognized Samuel’s handwriting.
She sent it back again with a note.
Stop it.
Jasper replied.
No.
Ellie kept half.
Spring began to touch the lower valley.
One afternoon Ellie stood in the expanded treatment room examining new shelves.
Clara entered.
“You going?”
Ellie looked at her.
“Where?”
Clara smiled.
“Mountains.”
Ellie pretended confusion.
Clara was sixty-two and immune to nonsense.
“You’ve been staring north for four days.”
“I have work.”
“You have employees.”
“I’m responsible.”
“You’re lonely.”
Ellie glared.
Clara shrugged.
“I’m old.”
“That does not make you correct.”
“No.”
Clara smiled.
“Being correct does.”
Ellie looked away.
Clara leaned against the counter.
“He handsome?”
Ellie’s cheeks warmed.
“That is inappropriate.”
“Very handsome then.”
“Clara.”
“Big?”
Ellie stared.
Clara laughed.
“I meant tall.”
“You absolutely did not.”
“Maybe.”
Ellie covered her face.
Clara patted her shoulder.
“Go see him.”
Ellie looked toward the window.
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“That’s why God invented visits.”
The next morning Ellie saddled Daisy.
The snowline had retreated by miles.
Streams ran hard with meltwater.
The ride took almost a full day but felt shorter than the winter journey.
Ellie reached Jasper’s cabin before sunset.
Smoke rose from the chimney.
She dismounted.
The door opened.
Jasper stepped outside.
Healthy.
Fully upright.
Broad.