AN: It has been a hot minute. Whoops. I decided that I started this story wrong going with third person and have edited the first chapter to be first person.

Disclaimer: I don't promise 100% medical and historical accuracy ever in this fic.

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew
I was enchanted to meet you
- Taylor Swift

I landed heavily on my right leg and heard something snap. Pain shot up my leg like the lightning that split the sky during the storm. I lay on the ground in a heap, dazedly staring up at the clouds.

Lena rushed over and leaned over me, her face pale with fear. "Esme! Esme, are you all right?"

I tried to sit up but the motion made the pain spike. Black spots appeared in my vision and nausea roiled in my stomach. I moaned and lay down again, closing my eyes tight and hoping desperately that I wouldn't vomit on top of everything else.

I wasn't brave enough to look at my leg. I was sure it looked horrible.

Lena said something about getting help but I was in too much pain to pay attention. It seemed to take forever before I heard my parents call my name.

"Esme!" Papa voice was strained. I tentatively opened one eye; the nausea hadn't quite subsided. He was on his knees at my side, while Mama stood in the background. She had one hand over her mouth in horror and one arm around Lena's shoulders. Lena had tears in her eyes.

Papa's hands shook as he helped me sit up and I was sure it was really bad if my normally steady father reacted this way. I kept my face turned toward him, still afraid to look. "Oh my girl, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Despite the shaking hands, this was said in the same soothing tone he used whenever I'd hurt herself growing up and it was what I needed.

"Papa," I whimpered and finally felt like I might cry, even though I was too old for that.

He kissed my forehead and gathered me into his arms as gently as he could. Even so, the movement made my leg hurt and I could no longer stop myself from crying. "We'll get you to the hospital and get this fixed. Don't worry. Don't you worry about a thing."

Mama stayed behind to take Lena home and it was an excruciating ride to the hospital. Papa murmured vague words of comfort every time my leg was jostled going over bumps in the road and I cried out. I bit down on my lip to try to keep quiet and I tasted coppery blood on my tongue. Finally, the black spots clouded my vision again and I let myself pass out. It was easier than fighting it.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on a stable surface, and it smelled like chemicals. I could vaguely tell there were other people with me. There was no difference in the level of pain and I wished for the oblivion again.

"How long ago did she fall unconscious?" asked a smooth, melodic voice. There was movement to my right side and the chemical smell was replaced with a scent that reminded me of a warm fire in the depths of winter.

"It was when we just arrived." That was Papa's voice and he sounded more scared than I've heard him before. My passing out must have really worried him.

I opened my eyes slowly.

And found Dr. Cullen looking down at me, a lock of his blond hair swooping down over his forehead.

For a second, I thought I might die of mortification.

There was a slight frown on Dr. Cullen's face but a smile took its placed when he saw me wake. "Miss Platt, are you back with us?"

All I could do was nod. I heard Papa's sigh of relief. He stood at the foot of the bed, while a nurse hovered by Dr. Cullen's side. There were curtains all around, separating us from the rest of the room.

"Looks like you took a nasty spill. How did you break your leg?"

Papa looked to me for an answer as well. "All Lena said was that you were hurt."

"I fell climbing the apple tree," I managed to get out. It was hard to think and form words around the pain.

Papa sighed again. "I thought you were getting too old to climb trees." The rebuke was much gentler than if Mama had said it.

Amusement flashed in Dr. Cullen's eyes before he considered me seriously. "You must be in a lot of pain. We'll get you something for that." He gave quiet instructions to the nurse, who left the room in a brisk walk. Then he turned to Papa. "If you don't mind heading outside to the main desk, there are some forms for you to sign."

When Papa left, Dr. Cullen asked, "May I have a closer look?" He pointed to my leg. I kept my eyes on his face as I nodded, still afraid to look. He carefully lifted my skirt to expose my lower leg and pulled down the stocking. I gasped when I felt how cold his hands were and then again when I couldn't help but look.

My leg was swollen and bruised and there was a distinct bump that indicated a bone was sticking out where it shouldn't. Tears pricked my eyes again and I started shaking. No wonder my parents and Lena looked so scared. Would I be able to walk again?

"Miss Platt, look at me," Dr. Cullen commanded in a soft voice. I met his golden eyes and for some reason, they brought to mind a topaz brooch Mama inherited from her mother. They were the exact same shade. "I know this looks bad, but it's not the worst. Your bone didn't pierce the skin, which would have made things far more difficult. All we'll need to do is reset the bone and get you in a plaster cast. I will take care of you."

"Promise?" I sniffed and then hated how the question made me feel like a child.

"Promise," Dr. Cullen said solemnly.

The process of having my leg set was a painful one, even with the morphine injection the nurse gave me. There were still crescent moon indents on my palms from when I clenched my fists and my lip bled again from biting it. I thought I saw Dr. Cullen's eyes flicker to my mouth when it started bleeding.

But now the medicine was kicking in, dulling the pain and making my head feel light. My leg was now up in a hammock.

"The worst is over. I'm so sorry that was painful. Now we'll get the cast on. You'll have it for a couple of months and once it's removed, it may take some time for you to rebuild muscle in your leg. But there's no reason why you shouldn't be walking again after that," Dr. Cullen said.

"That's a relief. How will I climb trees then?" I wondered where my wit was coming from. I decided to blame it on the pain medication.

"How indeed." Dr. Cullen smiled as he looked over the casting supplies the nurse brought in. There was a container of cloth strips and a big bowl of water. "Do you climb them often?"

"Not as often as my parents make it seem."

"What made you climb this time?

I hesitated. "I saw a rainbow. It was against the backdrop of the storm clouds, and it looked too pretty. I wanted to get closer somehow." I shrugged, trying to downplay my feelings in that moment. It seemed like a silly reason now. Dr. Cullen probably didn't care anyway.

But he looked thoughtful as the nurse took a strip of cloth, carefully soaked it and handed it to him. "Have you ever been out west to Wyoming?"

"I've never been out of Ohio." West was a sore talking point, since my parents told me that my dream of going out west and being a teacher was unsuitable. But I still dreamed of seeing the world beyond the sate I'd been born into. "Why?"

"In Yellowstone, there's the Grand Prismatic Spring. Around the edges, it's red and then it fades to yellow and green and in the center, it's such a vivid blue." His gaze turned faraway, remembering. "I don't think I've seen water that shade of blue before."

I tried to picture it in my head and couldn't quite believe that rainbow water could exist. "Truly?"

"Yes, truly. I hope one day you get to see it." He took the cloth strip and began wrapping it around my leg, just about the knee. "Now, as this dries, you'll feel some warmth. It's normal, it's from the plaster in these cloths. But if the heat becomes painful, you must tell me."

I nodded my agreement and watched him and the nurse work together to cast my leg for a while. Then, feeling awkward in the silence, I said, "I saw you at church this morning."

"I always make it a point to visit different churches in the places I live."

Places. Well, if his Yellowstone story wasn't evidence to a migratory life, that certainly was. "So you move around a lot? Is that why you don't talk to anyone?" Dr. Cullen looked at me in surprise and I could have kicked myself for the impertinent question. "I just mean that you haven't stayed to socialize after service."

"When you move as often as I do," Dr. Cullen started carefully, "it's easier not to make deep friendships."

"That sounds lonely."

Dr. Cullen cleared his throat uncomfortably and it seemed I stumbled on a sore subject for him. I closed my eyes in embarrassment. I should have kept quiet. But then Dr. Cullen changed the subject. "What did you think of the sermon?"

I made a face. "Boring."

"Why was it boring?"

I sighed. Where to begin with that! "Well, it's always about how Jesus died to save us from hell and when that's all you hear Sunday after Sunday, it gets repetitive."

The nurse seemed a little scandalized by my assessment, but Dr. Cullen looked like he was fighting a smile. For a moment, I was afraid that he was going to mock me, but instead he asked, "You think people don't do things for which they need forgiveness?"

I had to pause to gather my thoughts, caught off guard by an honest conversation.

"No, not at all."

"But?" Dr. Cullen prompted.

"But…" I chewed my lip and winced; I forgot the broken skin there for a moment. "I don't think that because people can do awful things it makes them inherently awful. I also don't think that somebody needs to die for forgiveness to be possible. If God is really all powerful and loving, he should be able to freely forgive without Jesus having to die."

Dr. Cullen stared at me with his mesmerizing golden eyes, and I looked away, blushing. I expected him to tell me all the reasons I was wrong. In my almost sixteen years of life, I've noticed the way men talked to me and the other women around me, interrupting and talking over us. Our opinions were never deemed important.

Instead, he said something I least expected. "I agree with you." He frowned. "Or, at least, I want to. It's not easy to get rid of the belief that your very existence is wrong."

"Who taught you that?" How can existing be wrong?

His gaze was enigmatic as he said, "It's as you said, Miss Platt. It comes from the pulpit every Sunday."

I didn't know why, but I had the feeling that that was a half-truth.

By the time the cast was done, my leg somehow seemed separate from my body. My toes poked out at the end and I wiggled them; that didn't lessen the feeling. The cast was warm like Dr. Cullen said it would be but it wasn't painfully so. Though with how snug it was around my leg and the fact that summer was coming, it was going to be uncomfortable. Dr. Cullen left while the nurse helped me out of my clothes and into a hospital gown. This made me realize that I was going to need help to do basic things, even at home, while I had the cast. I probably wouldn't even be able to be in my room since it was on the second floor. With my cheeks burning in embarrassment, I wished hadn't climbed the tree. Or, at least, hadn't stepped on that weakened branch.

I looked up when I heard Dr. Cullen's voice again. "We'll keep her here for a couple of days to allow the cast to fully harden," he was saying, leading my father back to see me. "After that, it'll need to stay on for at least two months."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen." Dr. Cullen nodded and left us alone. Papa came over and sat gingerly on the edge of my bed. He took one of my hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." The medicine and the excitement of the evening was catching up to me.

"You really gave us a scare, Esme. You really shouldn't be climbing trees. It's going to make things harder for us with summer coming and you being laid up like this."

A lump rose in my throat. "I know. I'm sorry." Even though I wanted to say that I didn't plan for this to happen.

Papa kissed my forehead. "I'm sure your mother will visit tomorrow. Good night."

Once he left, I let a few tears slip out again. The lecture was short and said in my father's usual gentle tones but it still hurt. It wasn't what I wanted to hear while lying in a hospital bed. I dried my face the sheet covering me and tried to get as comfortable as I could before sleep dragged me under.

My dreams that night were full of color – the blinding white of the lightning, the colors of the rainbow and the spring, the gold of Dr. Cullen's eyes.

.

True to Papa's word, Mama came to visit me the next afternoon. Thankfully, Lena was with her. She had barely been here five minutes before I was exhausted from her going on and on about 'what were you thinking climbing a tree?' and 'what are we going to do with you?'

"I've already learned my lesson, Mama," I said wearily, gesturing my cast. Lena gave me a sympathetic look.

"I hope so. I thought you put this behavior behind you," Mama sniffed.

"Papa said that."

She got the hint. "Alright, no more lecturing." She leaned over to kiss my head and smooth my hair back. "I brought you something to do while you're here. It's good to keep busy." She held up a bag of knitting.

I sighed. "Thank you." I didn't hate knitting. In fact, I was quite good at it, but didn't completely absorb my mind like drawing or reading did. I really wanted to forget that I was in a hospital instead of at home. It was hard to relax when I had to have nurses walk in on me several times to check on me and give me more morphine for the pain. Besides that, I could hear other patients on the ward. I immediately wished for the privacy of home.

Mama let me know that she already talked to Lena's mother, which meant that other ladies at church would know what happened to me and were probably praying for me. It was a nice gesture, but I really hoped they wouldn't also make their own snide comments about me climbing trees like a hellion.

"What did Dr. Cullen say about your recovery?" Mama asked.

"Didn't Papa tell you?"

"He only said that you would be fine."

Wearily, I relayed what Dr. Cullen said but that didn't seem to satisfy her for some reason. She decided to go track him down and get the information from him herself. When she was gone, Lena and I heaved a simultaneous sighs of relief.

"Don't worry, I brought you something better than knitting," Lena said conspiratorially and pulled my sketchbook and my copy of Jane Eyre out of her bag.

I hugged them both to my chest. "You are a life saver."

"You'd do the same for me." Her eyes sparked mischievously. "So you got Dr. Cullen to tend to you?"

My cheeks flamed. "Yes, and it was embarrassing. He saw me pass out and cry."

Lena waved it off like that didn't matter. "That's what all the heroines do. Heroes find it endearing."

"Lena, this isn't a novel," I said flatly, rolling my eyes. "He would never think of me that way."

I paused. "Though you were right about his voice being really soothing." And the way he listened to me… I smiled softly to myself.

There was a strange expression on Lena's face, almost like jealousy, but it disappeared quickly. "Would I lie about that?" she asked lightly.

"Oh, I know you weren't lying," I assured her, taking her hand. "It's just one thing hearing about it and another to see for yourself."

Lena smiled but it had a wistfulness I didn't understand. She was the one who pressed me into admitting the attraction I felt for Dr. Cullen, after all. But before I could ask, Mama returned. She successfully tracked down Dr. Cullen and commented about how polite he was and how he almost seemed too young to be such a respected doctor here. The rest of the visit was Mama mostly talking about odds and ends at home (and Lena and I making faces at each other at the things she said) until it was time for her and Lena to get home.

I leaned back on my pillow with a sigh, closing my eyes, when a soft voice asked, "Would you mind if I bothered you or are you all worn out from visitors?"

My eyes shot open. Dr. Cullen stood at the foot of my bed with a wry smile. "No," I said, startled. He walked so quietly! "No, I don't mind."

"I wanted to check how the cast is drying," he said.

"Of course."

He tapped along the cast and it sounded dull. "Still needs more time. Could you wiggle your toes for me?" I did and then he looked at me for permission to touch before pressing down on my toenails, watching them blanch and pink up again. Again, his hands were so cold and I wanted to jerk away. "I'm sorry. I can't help my cold hands, I'm afraid. They've always been like that."

"Even when it's warm out?" They felt like my hands did when I've forgotten gloves going out in the winter.

"Even then," Dr. Cullen said lightly. "How's your pain?"

"Not too bad at the moment." I was given more pain medication not too long ago.

He nodded.

"I hope my mother didn't bother you."

Dr. Cullen smiled. "She wasn't a bother. She sounded like a normal concerned mother to me."

"That concern can be overbearing," I muttered.

"I suppose it can be." He gestured to the things Mama and Lena left with me. "What did they bring you?"

"Knitting. That was from Mama. Even being in the hospital is no excuse for falling behind with those projects. Lena brought me Jane Eyre and my sketchbook."

"May I?" Dr. Cullen asked, holding out his hand for my sketchbook. I handed it to him, feeling a bit like I was handing in schoolwork to my teacher to be graded. He flipped through it, taking his time with each drawing, even the scribbles in the corners. I suddenly wished he was looking at a formal finished portrait rather than messy sketch after messy sketch. I drew whatever struck my fancy at the time – the chickens in their run, the flowers down by the pond, the shape of the inkwell at my desk, bare tree branches in winter, Lena. There were several of her.

It made me self-conscious for him to see that.

When he got to the end, he gave it back to me. "You have a good eye."

"Th-thank you," I stammered.

"Have you considered art school?"

I let out an incredulous laugh at that.

"What is it?" Dr Cullen asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"My parents would not let me do that. They don't think I need to continue my education and would prefer that I get married." I couldn't keep out the edge of bitterness in my voice. The argument about my future had been several weeks ago now, but it still hurt.

"You don't want to get married?"

I frowned. "No, that's not it. I would like to someday but I also want to do things. Like go to Yellowstone and see that spring you told me about. I don't want taking care of a home to be the only thing I get to do in life."

I couldn't name the expression on Dr. Cullen's face as he listened to my rambling. "It's hard to imagine that anyone could stop you from doing what you want, if you're so determined." He sighed. "But I'm afraid I have other patients to check on, Miss Platt. Thank you for sharing your drawings."

As he left, I was filled with a strange longing – longing to prove him right and live my life on my own terms.

The basket of knitting supplies sat ignored on my bedside table. It wouldn't hurt if they were ignored for a little while longer. I set my sketchbook aside and grabbed Jane Eyre. It fell open in my lap to a random page where the spine had been cracked. A sentence caught my eye:

"I am no bird and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."

.

The rest of my time in the hospital passed and I was allowed to go home. Mama and Papa both came to get me. As Papa wheeled me out in a wheelchair, I saw Dr. Cullen by the front desk.

"Ready to be home again?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," I said. "I suppose you're going to tell me to stop climbing trees, though."

But Dr. Cullen shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "No, I'm not going to tell you that. Keep climbing those trees, Miss Platt."

AN: Also hope it doesn't need to be said that the attraction is one-sided right now, purely from Esme's side. Thank you for reading and hope to hear from you!