"There's nothing more to do, Alice." Neil snapped the clasp of his medical bag. "I've given her morphine. She should be comfortable until…" His voice trailed off and he rubbed his palm across his weary eyes. "I'm sorry."

Alice Henderson shifted her gaze from the bed where her daughter lay towards her son-in-law. "Thee has nothing to be sorry for, Neil. I am grateful she is able to rest without pain."

In the hall, Christy wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she listened to their hushed conversation. It had been two weeks since Neil had brought Margaret to the mission house. Two weeks ago, the doctor's wife had been frail. Within a week, her illness left her bedridden. Now, it sounded as if Margaret MacNeill was unlikely to wake again. Christy's heart ached for Alice and for Neil. Somehow, she doubted that losing Margaret a second time was any easier than losing her the first.

"If you don't mind, Alice, I think I'll sleep here tonight."

"Of course. Thee can take the bunkhouse. With David gone back to Boston, there's no reason you can't get a good night's sleep in a real bed. Stop by the kitchen before thee turn in. I'm sure Miss Huddleston saved thee a plate from supper."

At the mention of her name and the sound of Neil's heavy footsteps, Christy started away from the door. Her cheeks burned. She was no worse than Ruby Mae, eavesdropping on their conversation as she had been. She hesitated on the stair landing, debating rather to retreat to her bedroom to avoid Neil or head to the kitchen to reheat leftovers for his dinner. The click of the door opening sent her flying across the hall and into her own bedroom. As her door latched behind her, Christy slumped against the wall. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty. She wiped them against her skirt, trying to calm the anxiety welling up within her. She had not spoken to Neil alone in over a month, not since the afternoon of David's proposal. Much had transpired since then, including David's departure and Margaret's sudden decline in health. Christy wasn't sure whether her sudden anxiety regarding Neil was because of her newly discovered feelings or because of her inability to share them with him.

Breathing slowed, Christy listened to the sound of Neil's footsteps retreating down the hall. Thump. Thump. Thump. There was a pause and Christy was certain he was standing right outside of her room. Part of her ached to open the door and offer her friendship to the tired doctor. The other part knew with certainty that opening the door to her bedroom would open the heartache she had been battling for weeks. Thump. Thump. Thump. He was leaving. Christy squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop the tears she knew were coming.

The gray light of rain clouds greeted Christy the next morning. Judging by the hum-drum sound from above, it was pouring. Christy sighed. Bleak weather to match her bleak mood. She dressed quickly and ran a brush through her long hair. Normally, she spent her Saturday mornings lounging in bed with her sketchpad, but with Margaret so sick and Alice spending her time nursing and praying, a lazy morning felt selfish. Christy felt selfish enough as it was, wallowing in her self-pity regarding her feelings for Neil.

Downstairs, Christy found the kitchen empty. A pot of coffee was bubbling on the stove but there was no sign that anyone had started breakfast. Her stomach growling, she set to work boiling water for oatmeal and frying bacon. If Ruby Mae wasn't up yet, she would be soon — and the teenage girl was always hungry. Not five minutes later, Christy heard the kitchen door swing open behind her. "Good morning, Ruby Mae. Breakfast is almost ready. Can you go and fetch Ms. Alice and Dr. MacNeill?"

When there was no reply, Christy turned her head away from the stove and towards the doorway. Instead of an energetic redheaded girl, she found Neil staring at her. "Oh." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Good morning, doctor." She attempted a smile, but was certain it looked more like a grimace.

Neil took a step into the kitchen before speaking. "Your hair."

Christy furrowed her brow. "My hair?" She lifted a hand and ran it through the brown waves feeling for any large, obvious tangles. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Neil said. "I've just never seen it down like that before." He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you self-conscious."

Christy tried to smile again, but it fell short. The awkward tension was palpable and she was at a loss as to how to respond. "Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes. There's hot coffee if you'd like."

"Aye. I put it on the stove before I went out to feed Charlie." He shifted restlessly from one foot to another for a few seconds. Then, he grabbed a mug from the cabinet. Christy turned back to the stove, her cheeks burning and stomach in knots. She hated the discomfort of the entire situation. Loving a married man hurt, but losing her best friend because of it felt one hundred times worse.

"I made oatmeal and bacon. Not fancy, but it should do the trick." She scooped oatmeal into a bowl and set it on the table behind her. "Can I get you anything else? Milk? Sugar?" Her nerves caused the words to flow out in a rush. She felt breathless as the last syllable left her lips and she brought a hand to her chest in an attempt to still her racing heart.

"Christy." Neil laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Look at me."

Christy wiped her hands against her apron and turned slowly. Neil was standing so close — they were nearly toe to toe. Unable to meet his gaze, for fear she would burst into tears, Christy kept her eyes trained on the second button of his gray flannel shirt. She felt his fingertips, calloused from years of work, tip her chin up gently. "Look at me."

Christy met his gaze and blinked furiously to fight back tears. She swallowed thickly and rested a hand against his chest. She'd meant to push him away, to put some space between them. She didn't follow through. Slowly, his other hand came to cover hers and he squeezed lightly. "Talk to me."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"You can," Neil whispered. "Please. You've been so distant. Tell me what I've done." His eyes swept from her forehead to her chin and back up again before meeting her gaze. "Please."

Christy stared at him for a moment and spread her fingers across his chest. She could feel his heartbeat with her fingertips. "I can't." She jerked away from him and moved to stand by the far side of the table.

"You can't or you won't?" The harsh snap in his voice matched the sudden burn in his eyes. "If I've done something to offend you, I'd like to apologize for it. I didn't mean to hurt you!" Neil slammed his hands down on the table. "Talk to me!"

Christy started at the noise and somehow found his sudden anger a catalyst for hers. "There is nothing for us to talk about, Doctor! You have done nothing and I don't need an apology. I would appreciate it if we could keep things professional from now on."

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily. Eventually, Neil's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Professional? Is that all we are to each other? I thought you were my friend." He looked at her hard, as if trying to decide the truth of her words.

"Please, Neil."

"Fine. Have it your way." Neil's voice was cold and Christy wondered if perhaps she'd inflicted a mortal wound upon their relationship — perhaps it was better that way. He glanced at her one more time, his face a pained mix of sadness and anger, before stepping out of the kitchen. When the door swung shut behind him with a resounding thud, Christy sank into the nearest chair and wept.