Chapter 9—"…you would never break my heart…"

If we never said I love you, you would never break my heart.

Late afternoon struck the Colorado sky, casting amber shadows across the clinic as Michaela buried herself in research. She had read the same sentence twelve times now. Work was futile. She closed the text book and buried her face in her hands. They might have been his hands, because as much as she pushed him away, he had her.

Suddenly, an exuberant burst of energy broke her quiet solitude, and Brian came running through the front door.

"Hey Ma!" Brian banged his hands down on her desk, an eager smile lighting his face, quickly infecting Michaela. "Miss me?"

"Always," Michaela laughed, grateful for his youthful diversion, and leaned on her elbows, crouching down to his level. "Got a story for me, Mr. Cooper?"

Brian shook his head, contemplating his thoughts carefully. "No…but I gotta question."

"You know you can ask me anything."

Brian inched closer, biting his lip, as if he were making a very important decision, and finally asked seriously, "Are all Indians brave and strong?"

Michaela gathered her thoughts, wondering what provoked such a loaded question. "Well, there are some Indians, like Cloud Dancing and Black Kettle, who simple want their people to have a place in this world—a home—to have peace and respect from the rest of the world. Others, live in constant turmoil, and war and violence simply breed more war and violence, hope is sometimes lost. People can lose sight of what they originally wanted. Peace. This can happen to anyone, Brian. All people. Do you understand?"

"Sort of." Brian twisted his right foot nervously. "Would they be real angry?"

"Sometimes…." Michaela took his hands in hers as she watched his demeanor change. "Did the Reverend say something about the Indians today at school?"

Brian's eyes widened and he opened his mouth but then closed it suddenly. "No… I-I was just wonderin'."

Michaela frowned, suspecting otherwise. "Are you sure?"

Before Michaela could get an answer out of Brian, the front door pushed open tentatively, and he was there again. As soon as Michaela met his eyes, she wanted to slide under the desk.

Sully watched her eyes fall and sighed. She couldn't even look at him now?

"Hey Sully!" Brian ran to Sully, oblivious to the ongoing looks passed between Michaela and Sully. "Ya feelin' better?"

Sully smiled, putting his hand on Brian's shoulder. "Sure am."

"Ma makes everything better, don't she?" Brian said proudly.

"Yeah, she does, Brian." Sully looked at Michaela, but she had turned away from him completely. He cleared his throat, trying to stand the distance between them, and said as casually as possible, "The interview's over. I think Catherine's tired. I can take her back to the homestead if ya still have things to do in town."

Michaela busied herself with paperwork, maintaining a contained expression. "No, I'm finished. Just let me pack up my things."

"You're comin' too, right Sully?" Brian pulled on his hand.

When Sully didn't answer right away, Michaela quickly turned around, seeing Brian's face cloud with unexpected worry. She freed herself from the confines of the desk and walked across the room towards them, covering her confusion with a reassuring smile as she took Sully's hand in hers. He stared at her, even more baffled. "Of course Sully's coming, Brian. Why wouldn't he?"

"Oh good! I'll go wait by the wagon with Catherine… Hey ma?" Brian spun around.

"What is it now?" She laughed, annoyed at herself as she heard the catch in her throat.

"Do you think she ever learned how to read?"

"I don't know, but that's something you could ask her." And with that, Brian shot through the front door as quickly as he had come in.

Michaela swallowed, her palm growing rigid and clammy against his as she watched Brian climb alongside Catherine in the wagon through the window. They had almost been caught. If a boy could see her heart, she had no idea how she would be able to protect herself from the rest of the world. From him. "Not in front of the children."

Sully shook his head. "Never."

"I don't them want them to see—"

"I know. I'll protect them." He tightened his hold on her hand. "I'll protect you."

Michaela curled her hand, taking it back from him. Sully ran his fingers through his hair, trying to repress a groan, but he couldn't do it. It wasn't in his nature. He lifted her chin and asked, "Why do you turn away like that? Just look at me. You're safe with me."

Michaela put her hand over his, intending to push him away, but stopped, caught by herself. By him. She breathed. Her hand curled around his wrist as she wavered, rocking, her choice unclear. "Then why don't I feel safe? I feel like I'm standing on a ledge with you, and all I want to do is jump."

Sully covered her hand as she faltered. "Just take my hand and we'll jump together."

Michaela stepped back and Sully went with her. "What if we hit the bottom?"

Sully caught her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "But what if there isn't one and we just keep fallin'?"

"That's what frightens me the most." Michaela broke away from his arms and rushed outside, leaving behind her coat and medical bag in her haste.

As if he were one of her forgotten things, Sully carefully gathered himself together along with her things, and followed her path out the door.

"Dinner was great, Colleen." Matthew filled the silence of the quiet dinner, as Michaela and Sully hardly said a word except when spoken to.

"It sure was," Brian echoed, wiping his face, jumping up from the table and gathering the empty plates.

As Brian and Colleen began to clear the table, the silence grew thicker, and Sully couldn't stand it any longer. He put his napkin down and made his excuses, "It's getting' late. I guess I should be heading on. Night everyone."

"No!" Catherine stood up from the table, grabbing his hand. "You stay with me."

Sully looked at Michaela. He didn't know if he could spend the night with her so far away from him. His mind was reeling from her. He didn't know if he would ever be able to sleep again.

"Please!" Catherine begged. "Bad dreams…"

"You should stay," Michaela said evenly, "and protect her."

"If that's what you want." Sully pushed up from the table, running the bench hard against the wooden floor. "Matthew, why don't we get some more firewood from the barn. Keep the ladies warm tonight."

"Sure thing, Sully." Matthew followed him outside, eyeing him curiously.

As the door shut behind him, Matthew asked gingerly, "Is everything alright, Sully?"

Sully shrugged, walking ahead of Matthew. "Sure."

"O-k," Matthew raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"What?" Sully stopped and turned around.

Matthew lifted his chin and put his hands on his hips. "You don't want to talk to me cause ya think I'm a kid?"

"No, Matthew. It's just some things…" Sully turned around and pounded back towards the barn. "Well, they just gotta stay between me and your ma."

Matthew paused and then gently put his hand on Sully's shoulder. "Are you two fightin' about somethin'?"

"Matthew…" Sully groaned, lifting a log into his arms.

Matthew stopped him, before he could pick up another log. "I know when she's upset. She tries to keep it to herself, and well, she's kind of lost her touch… especially since ya started courtin'."

Sully almost smiled, thrusting the wood against Matthew's chest. "Don't tell her that."

"I won't." Matthew grinned slightly. "But…is everythin' gonna be alright?"

"I hope so, Matthew. I'm tryin'." He picked up another log, taking more than they needed. "I'm tryin'."

As the children washed the dishes, Michaela felt completely aimless. What was wrong with her? If she could remove it like a cyst or a tumor, could she be happy? Could they? She looked down and saw her trunk, chocked full of everything from her past. She sank down in front of it and lifted the top, finding all her keepsakes, pictures, a glove, a piece of lace. Then she saw the blue. Sea blue.

I feel like I'm walking on the Charles tonight with you in my arms.

"Very beautiful. What is it?" Michaela gasped and pulled the dress out fully against her chest, protecting herself as Catherine stood over her.

Catherine sank down beside Michaela as she uselessly tried to gain her wits. "Oh…it's nothing… It's… I'm just being silly, Catherine."

Catherine reached out and touched the sea blue satin. She had never felt anything like it. She looked in Michaela's eyes, seeing the tears. "Nothing would not make you so sad. It's…it's special?"

Michaela nodded, admitting quietly, "Yes."

Catherine reached out and touched the tears, taking them away. "Tell me."

Michaela looked up, seeing a chandelier instead of the wooden rails of the cabin. "I've only worn this once. At my engagement party."

"Engagement?" Catherine frowned, not recognizing the word.

Michaela looked at her bare hands. "We were to be married."

"Why tears?" Catherine covered her hands with her own, and Michaela shivered. Her hands were so warm, like Martha's or her father's. But it was different. Almost sensual.

Slowly, Michaela spoke from a broken place that had never healed, "He told me he loved me on a Friday morning. I never thought I would hear those words or let myself even say them back. But I did. I wore this dress on a Saturday in the early afternoon into the middle of the night at our engagement party. And it was a Sunday evening when he told me he was leaving. I haven't worn this dress since."

Catherine looked up, nodding and understanding. "You carry the past with you. I do that. I see Chasing Hawk in the sky. Flying above me. Watching me. I cannot hold him now. He too high. Too far away."

Michaela watched her and squeezed her hand, almost warm now. "I'm sorry."

Catherine looked at her, a luminous smile filling her face as she said, "His memory fills me. I go on. I not trapped."

"Trapped…" Michaela lifted the blue dress in her arms, caressing the fabric resolutely. She held it out. "Would you like my dress, Catherine?"

Catherine pushed it back. "Yours. You should wear it."

Michaela shook her head, realization hitting her like thunder, and she smiled through final tears. "He's a memory like your husband. I don't need to carry it anymore. But I'd like you to have it."

Catherine took the dress in her hands, pressing it against her chest. She smiled gratefully. "You give me something from your heart. I must give you something from mine."

Michaela held up her hand. "You don't have to—"

Michaela froze when she realized what Catherine was doing. She tore off the stones on her dress. The dress that Sully had given her. As Catherine dropped the cool beads into her hands, Michaela knew and with all that was in her, she hoped to God she was wrong. But eyes, so telling as the heart, radiated light, and there was no denying the light in Catherine's.

"Th-hank you," Michaela stood up from floor, needing space from the woman. She didn't know what to make of her. She looked into her eyes, white around blue. The woman just knew how she felt. There was no hesitation, no holding back. And Catherine didn't even know him like she did. It couldn't be true. It couldn't.

If she never said it, her heart was safe.

Lights were low and feet were soft upon the floor as Michaela changed into her nightgown behind the curtain. Last night, this morning, and this afternoon were still fresh on her mind. She didn't know what to do. She could hear Sully tending the fire and Catherine whispering to him in words she didn't understand.

He laughed. It was light, soft, genuine. She hadn't heard him laugh in a day. Just one day.

But all it took was a day. An hour. A moment.

Was that what he wanted? Someone like Catherine to laugh and smile at his every whim? What was she doing? There was nothing wrong with Catherine. There was nothing wrong with laughing. If only there was a name for it—if only she could say it, if only she could speak.

If they didn't say it, then she would never know. But he would never….

Michaela pushed back the curtain and walked into the darkness. Sully and Catherine's shadows danced on the ceiling as they sat close in front of the fire. Michaela couldn't look at him—that would mean too much. That would mean owning how she felt. That would make it real.

As she pulled down her bed covers, Sully exhaled, lying down on the floor. He didn't know what to do. He felt trapped—unable to move from loving her, but finally realizing what she meant. He didn't know how to love her either. Not like this.

He tried to sleep. He couldn't.

She wanted to tell him what she did her dress. But how? How?

So no one spoke. And the night grew darker.

Catherine watched him, his eyes transfixed by the fiery shadows, her eyes transfixed by him. So much sadness. If only she could take it away. She knew that sadness. That loss. If only she knew who he lost, then maybe she could help him like he helped her. Quietly, she fell down beside him and put her hand over his heart.

"Catherine?" Sully stirred, shaken from his thoughts. "Is somethin' wrong?"

"No. Nothing. Thank you," she whispered, softly touching the side of his face.

"What for?" Sully swallowed, uneasy with her so close to him.

She took his hand and pressed it against her chest. Her eyes flashed in the firelight. "You have made my heart strong again."

Sully quickly took his hand back, his head turning towards the bed, panic entering his voice. "I didn't—"

"Shh," Catherine whispered, as her leg fell in between his, quickly bringing his attention back to her.

"Catherine—" Sully pushed back on her shoulders, stopping her.

She caught his eyes and said, "I will fill what you have lost."

"I haven't lost anything—" Sully couldn't breathe as she hovered over him. In that moment, he didn't know what to do. Was he sleeping? Why couldn't he move?

She ran her fingers over his lips. "I see in your eyes."

"I can't do this… I—" Sully shook his head, his body starting to shake as she completely covered him.

Catherine pressed against him, stilling him. "Yes you can. I also see in your eyes."

"Catherine…please—" Sully pushed, but it was not physical.

"Shh," Catherine covered his mouth, and suddenly, he could think again, and he saw Michaela's face, confused, asking him how, and he pushed back, trying to answer, to speak, to say what he meant, what he wanted, what he should have said in the first place—no. How… How… It was not like this. Not like this.

He pushed too late.

A blanket separated them like a hard whip as Michaela threw it across the room and it hit them. Michaela was on her knees in the center of the bed. She gritted her teeth and barely whispered as she seethed, "Is that it? Is it?"

"Michaela—" Sully pushed Catherine off of him and stood up, disheveled, watching her break before him. He walked across the room and reached out for her, but she held up her hands, warning him.

She jumped off the bed and ran to the door. Sully followed her, desperately grabbing her arm. She jerked away from him, looking him directly in the eyes as she lied in a broken whisper, "No. Don't. I wish you'd never come to Boston!"

"Michaela!" But she had escaped into her lie.

Snow began to fall as she stormed out onto the porch with nothing but her nightgown on. She didn't know where she was going as angry tears filled her eyes. She didn't even know who she was angry at more—Sully, herself, or that daft woman.

She wasn't lost. She wasn't! What did Catherine know anyhow?

Michaela felt the cold ground against her bare feet as she stumbled to the barn. She knew Matthew was asleep, but there was no where else to go. She had to get out of here.

She froze at the door, hearing Catherine's words again. Is that what Sully thought? Did he feel like he had lost her?

She opened the door quietly, shooting Matthew straight up in the loft. "It's only me, Matthew." She shivered as she walked purposefully towards Flash, unable to hide her emotions.

"Dr. Mike?" Matthew quickly jumped to his feet and began crawling down the ladder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing for you to worry about. I'm—I'm going to take Flash for a ride." Michaela quickly pulled Flash out of his stall and jumped on him bareback—something she had never done before.

Matthew stopped on the bottom step, his eyes wide as he watched her back convulse with years of unshed tears. "Um… Maybe… maybe I should go with ya? The snow is just startin' to fall and doesn't look like it's lettin' up."

Michaela shook her head, not looking at him. "No, Matthew. I have to do this by myself."

"What about Sully?"

"Don't tell him anything." Before Matthew could say another word, she and Flash flew out the barn doors into the dark night.

The trail was rough, but she didn't care. She held on to Flash's main, screaming as she rose higher in the Rockies, letting her voice get lost above the trees and animals that didn't care if she broke from the image she showed to the people of Colorado Springs everyday. Darker still, as she cut through a veil of limbs, like arms reaching out for her, and she closed her eyes and closed her eyes and closed her eyes until all effort was gone, and Flash ran wild into the woods without its rider.

She opened her eyes….