A/N: Sorry this is taking so long to finish! I know where I want this to go, but getting there is the tricky part.
Despite the pain that was involved, Clara attacked physical therapy with such determination that Dr. Mike had to hold her back at times. Three days after it began, she was able to hold light loads- such as clothing -under her shortened left arm and began trying to hold her plates and bowls steady with the stump of her wrist. Her mood continued to improve with each new accomplishment.
Then came the day that she was finally able to come home with Dr. Quinn's family. The first thing Clara wanted to do was pick up Jasper from the blacksmith's shop.
"Thank you so much for looking after him," said Clara, stroking Jasper's neck. "I'll pay you back when I can."
Robert E. gave a pleasant smile and shrug, patting Jasper's flank. "Naw...it's all right. You don't have to. Truth is, him and me got to be real good friends. Ain't that right, fella?" The burly blacksmith scratched underneath Jasper's mane, which the horse leaned into. "That is one special horse you got there."
Clara smiled and gathered her gelding's reins. "I know. Thanks again." And she led Jasper up to the side of the waiting wagon. As the wagon was loaded, Jasper carried his own tack...and Clara stared longingly into the saddle.
"Ready to go?" asked the doctor pleasantly.
"Yes, ma'am." And without further ado, Clara stuck her left foot into the stirrup and put her right hand on the saddle. She froze upon remembering that she had no left hand to hold the reins with.
"I...I really don't think you should be riding yet," said Dr. Mike awkwardly.
"Why not? It's not going to make things any worse," reasoned Clara, trying to hop up without using her hand. She landed back on the ground with a slight stumble.
The doctor shook her head, frowning. "Well, no, but...I'm just not sure you're strong enough -"
Clara reared back, took a little run, sprang off the ground, threw her right leg over the horse, and landed in the saddle at a somewhat lopsided angle, panting a little at the effort. Calmly she settled herself back in the saddle and found her stirrups. "What? Think I couldn't do it?" she asked, almost in a challenging tone. Seeing the doctor's look of surprise and concern, Clara shrugged and offered a slight smile. "Don't worry, doc. I'll take it slow."
It's too soon, nagged Michaela's doctor-sense. How will she get back down? Dr. Mike opened her mouth in protest, but another firm look of determination from Clara closed her mouth. "All right. But we'll stay at a walk." And with that, she snapped the reins for the horses.
Clara did well during the ride home. She had a good seat and was able to keep her balance even without using her left arm. Getting back to the homestead, however, was a different story.
Immediately when the wagon brake was pulled, Matthew rose to his feet and crumpled his hat in his hands. "You want some help off your horse, Miss Clara?" offered the young man.
Clara shook her head and smiled. "No, thank you. I can manage." Easily she swung her leg back over the saddle and braced her weight in the saddle. Taking her left foot out of the stirrup, the acrobat supported her weight on her right hand and stomach, then began cautiously sliding out. Suddenly she lost her grip on the saddle and slid off onto the ground, landing on her backside in the dust. Jasper nickered with uncertainty and skittered away to the right.
Matthew grabbed Jasper's bridle while Dr. Mike dropped down beside Clara. "Are you all right?"
Clara nodded, her face red, and hurriedly dusted off her trousers. "Fine. Just lost my grip for a minute."
"Are you sure?" prodded the doctor, trying to see if she'd landed on her still-healing arm. "Perhaps I should-"
"Leave me alone," snapped Clara. The outburst surprised even her, and she looked away. "I told you. I'm fine." Ignoring the doctor's offer for help, she got to her feet and gathered Jasper's reins to lead him into the barn.
Meanwhile the doctor and her family were left standing awkwardly by the wagon.
The rest of the evening would proceed in a similar manner. Clara wanted to do as much as she could on her own. With some things, such as eating and personal hygiene, Dr. Mike was pleased with her patient's progress. With others, such as tending to Jasper and aiding in the household chores, the doctor worried she was overdoing.
The next morning, which of course was Sunday, Clara surprised everyone by peering out from the small bedroom room in her red dress, still awkwardly trying to button up the back. "Could...someone help me, please?"
After getting over her shock, Colleen quickly jumped to her feet and ran behind the curtain to button up Clara's dress. The need for help embarrassed Clara, and she sighed and fidgeted.
"Thank you," she said, staring at the floor with a red face. "I feel so foolish asking for help with something as simple as dressing."
"It's all right. I don't mind helpin'," said Colleen with a smile.
"Just the same, I can't wait to be able to do everything on my own again." Clara reached over and managed the top button with only minor trouble. "There." And she and Colleen emerged from the room and sat down at the table to eat breakfast. Dr, Mike was once again gratified to see Clara adapt to eating the eggs and bacon with one hand, holding the plate steady with the crook of her arm.
Brian swallowed a mouthful of milk and turned to her. "You comin' to church with us, Miss Clara?"
Clara caught the look of surprise from the doctor and ignored it, nodding. "Of course. Missed three weeks already and it wouldn't do to miss another."
Dr. Mike was about to voice her concern, but reconsidered and kept her thoughts to herself. While Clara's bandages would have to stay where they were for another few weeks, getting out and about wouldn't hurt anything. It might even help. "Well then I'd like you to keep your arm in a sling."
Clara bit her lip. The riding had made her stump ache for an hour the previous evening, and while she could appreciate the doctor's concern..."No thank you, Ma'am. I'd rather keep my arm free. It's easier to ride that way."
Michaela stopped chewing and frowned. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather ride in the wagon?"
Clara nodded firmly. "Quite sure. Thanks anyway." Despite her firmness on the issue, she did have reservations about going to church. Folk had gossiped enough about a trouser-wearing lady acrobat. What would they say seeing her with one hand...and what would the Reverend do?
During the entire period Clara had been in the clinic, Reverend Johnson had not come back to see her. He had inquired of her condition daily, but made no effort to tell her himself, citing excuses of being too busy. With as close as they had gotten, his sudden absence hurt. His declaration of love rang hollow. Clara therefore assumed that he did not really care as much as he'd claimed...that the thought of her being imperfect disgusted him.
Clara shook the thought away and finished her breakfast. Perhaps she could avoid him once they arrived at church.
As Clara expected, her return to church garnered quite a bit of attention. She trailed behind Dr. Mike's wagon at a walk and frowned upon seeing the looks of surprise, unease, and pity upon the faces of the congregation. She closed her eyes for a minute before nudging Jasper forward and riding him to the hitching post. No sooner had she unsteadily dismounted than Dorothy Jennings all but ran up to her.
"Oh! Clara, dear, you're back!" exulted the newspaper woman.
"Hello, Miss Jennings," Clara replied, trying to smile.
"We've sure missed your piano playin," the older woman went on. "When do you-" She went to take Clara's hands, then froze at about mid forearm. Dorothy's green eyes went to the bandage on Clara's wrist, and her smile faded.
Clara felt heat rise to her ears and pulled her arm away, avoiding the woman's gaze. I suppose I had better get used to that...people are going to be looking at me like that for the rest of my life.
"Oh, I'm...I'm sorry, Clara," faltered Dorothy. Her eyes saddened, and both voice and hands dropped. "I s'pose I forgot. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Clara tried smiling again...and again, failed. "No...that's all right."
Dorothy nodded, seeing that Clara wanted some space. Memories of Tom, her Civil War veteran son turned amputee, came unbidden. Rather than push them away, she used them in thinking how best to address the situation. "Well, I'm glad. How you gettin' along, if you don't mind my askin'?" Another pointed glance was thrown to the stump.
"Fine." Clara's pretenses of being pleasant faded rapidly.
Thankfully Dorothy disengaged from the conversation and gave one last smile she hoped was encouraging before entering the church.
Clara ascended the steps slowly, intensely aware of the difference in facial expressions among the congregation. Most were polite enough not to say anything, but all at least gave her arm a glance before sadly shaking their heads. Others tried being helpful by offering any assistance they thought was needed. Even Mr. Bray and Jake Slicker tipped their caps, looking either guilty or sympathetic. Please stop staring, thought Clara. She wished for a pocket in which to hide her stump and hung back until everyone else had gone inside. At that point she mounted the steps as quickly as possible, not even trying to pick up her skirts. At the top, she stumbled into someone.
"Oh! Beg your pardon, ma'am, I'm afraid- Clara!" It was Reverend Johnson, and his face underwent the most extraordinary change in the course of a minute. First came surprise, then a hopeful smile, then worry, and finally guilt. At that point he was struck dumb and, despite many attempts, could not think of anything to say.
Clara's face, too, changed quickly. Surprise came first, followed by dismay, hurt, and shame. She shook these emotions off and nodded to him without looking at him. "Reverend," she said with a respectful nod.
He gave a tentative smile and reach for her hand. "It's good to have you back. How are you feeling?"
Clara wouldn't look up, but noticed the Reverend trying not to look at her stump. She moved to hide it behind her back, eyes stinging. "I'm surprised you noticed me." She moved to go inside, but Timothy's hand on her elbow stopped her.
"Clara, wait, I..." The Reverend let out a ragged sigh and hung his head. "I realize you must be angry with me...and you have every right."
"Why would I be angry with you?" Clara asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
"I haven't come to see you-"
"You've been busy."
"Not entirely. I was-"
Clara snapped up her head to look at him, eyes brimming with tears. "You were what? Repulsed? Disgusted?" When Timothy's response was stunned silence, the woman gave a bitter smile. "It's all right. I don't blame you." She kept her stump well hidden behind her back, closed her eyes, and swallowed her tears. "Can I go in, please?"
Reverend Johnson opened and shut his mouth several times, but was unable to think of anything to say. His only response was to nod and step aside to let the woman walk into the church.
Timothy never remembered a more sorrowful Sunday. All through the service he couldn't keep his mind on his job and kept glancing at Clara, who stubbornly refused to meet his eye. By the time it ended he was determined to make amends.
Clara seemed determined not to let him. When service was over she snuck by him on the steps and marched straight toward Jasper. Get me out of here. I want to go home! Her fingers fumbled with the reins around the hitching post, her clumsiness increased by her sense of urgency. "Come on," she muttered.
Reverend Johnson, meanwhile, abandoned his post by the door of the church just as Dr. Mike and her family emerged. "I'm sorry...Dr Mike, but could you excuse me, please?" He said hurriedly.
Dr. Mike, while surprised, nodded. "Of course, Reverend. Is anything wrong?"
Timothy hesitated. "Maybe...I'm not sure. But there's something I have to do. I'll be right back." And with that he made for the hitching post.
Michaela wasn't the only one to see Reverend Johnson march down the steps, staring resolutely at Clara and her horse. The rest of her family saw it as well. Only Brian couldn't figure out why.
"Where's the Reverend goin', Ma?" asked the boy in confusion.
"I think there's someone he needs to talk to," she said with a slight smile. The doctor exchanged a knowing smile with Sully, who smiled back and laid a hand on her shoulder.
Clara had heard the Reverend approach and she couldn't untie the reins fast enough. By the time she'd undone the knot he was right next to her.
"Clara?" He began, biting his lip.
"I'm sorry, Reverend. I have to be going," muttered Clara, ignoring the sting in her eyes.
"No, wait!" Reverend Johnson's hand shot out and took Jasper's reins next to bit to keep the woman from riding off. "Clara, we need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," Clara said shortly. She reached for the reins to pull them away from the clergyman, who held fast. Let me go! "Please...I have to go." She tried and failed to mount, her foot slipping out of the stirrup.
Timothy grimaced, but held his ground. "Not until you've heard me out."
Clara sighed. She'd already made up her mind to listen just long enough until the Reverend was finished, and then get out of Dodge. The woman turned about and stared sidelong at the ground. She would not look him in the eye. She might lose her nerve if she did.
Reverend Johnson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Clara, I'd like to apologize for not coming to see you while you were at the clinic. Now, before you jump to conclusions," he added, seeing Clara open her mouth in protest, "let me explain the reason." Another sigh. "I did come to see you...for a little while, after...after your operation."
Clara lifted her head with momentary interest. This was news to her.
Timothy bit his lip as he continued. "Seeing you lying there...I grew angry...angry at God, for letting such a terrible thing happen to you...I couldn't stand to see you like that, so I left." His cheeks burned in shame and he hung his head. "I never came back because I was afraid...afraid of how you'd feel...afraid you'd be angry with me."
Clara frowned, blowing out a hard breath. "Just tell the truth, Reverend. You didn't come back because you couldn't stand to look at me."
Timothy blinked with hurt at the insinuation. "No! That's not true-"
"Then look at me," cried the woman. She unbuttoned the sleeve on her dress and pulled it back to show the bandage, which had shrunk considerably over the past two weeks. She lifted up her stump for the Reverend and anyone else within earshot to see. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she gauged his reaction...and saw the shock on his face. "If you care as much as you say you do, then look at me."
Timothy closed his eyes for a moment, then forced them open. He looked long and hard at Clara's injury, tears starting to form in his eyes. Gradually the shock faded and all he saw was the beautiful young woman he had grown to love. "I'm looking."
Clara's expression was hard as she lowered her arm. "Then what do you see? Be honest."
Reverend Johnson reached and took Clara's hand before looking her in the eye. "I see a smart, strong, kind, and beautiful woman," he said softly, stressing the last adjective.
Beautiful? How can he think that? Clara frowned and blinked in confusion. "But...I...I don't have-"
"I know." Timothy nodded regretfully. "I'm sorry for what happened...I wish it had been me instead of you...but losing a limb doesn't change who you or what you are...and what you are is beautiful." A sad but honest smile dawned on his face, and he reached down to take Clara's stump in his hand to prove that it didn't bother him.
Clara flinched at the touch of his hand on her stump, but he was very careful not to hurt her. There was no doubting his honesty. Somehow the revelation wasn't all that surprising, and she scolded herself for even thinking such a thing. But his motives were still in doubt. He's just saying it to make me feel better...well, it worked. Clara's mouth twitched into a little smile of her own. "Thank you." For a moment she blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you away. I just figured...well, never mind. It doesn't matter."
Thank Heavens, she listened! Immense relief at the relatively painless reconciliation made Reverend Johnson let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and his smile widened. For a minute he was tongue-tied. "Oh...well...there are a few things I'd like to catch up on...would you like to go on a buggy ride this afternoon?"
While flattered by the kind offer, Clara had to turn it down. "No, thank you. I haven't been out of the clinic very long yet, and...well-"
"Oh! Of course. I'm sorry," said Timothy, feeling foolish. "You're probably tired and need to rest. Some other time, then."
"Maybe." Clara pulled away and went back to her horse. "I should probably go," she muttered, cheeks red.
"Do you want a leg up?" offered the Reverend, noticing her struggle to mount.
"No, I've got it." And to prove her point Clara reared back and swung into the saddle, gathering the reins and giving Timothy one last smile. "See you next week." And, kicking Jasper into a trot, she rode off.
As Reverend Timothy Johnson stared at the woman, he wasn't even aware of the whispers and nudging elbows being passed by his congregation. He had no way of knowing, either, that Clara had mistaken his look of concern for pity.