Wednesday, 28 March, 1870

     “As much as I’d love to linger here, I need to bathe and dress,” Michaela announced all too soon, leaning over to kiss me.  “Mother will be waking shortly if she hasn’t already, and since I have no idea of Brendan’s habits, I need to be prepared and presentable.”

     I sighed, unwilling to release her from my arms and burst the perfect bubble we’d been floating in for the past hour or so.  Real life waited outside, but I wanted the exquisite dream I was living with Michaela—the fairy tale where the adoring prince slays the dragon and wins the hand of his beautiful princess.

     The only dragon—the only demon—I’d slain was the one within myself:  the dark and loathsome creature deep inside that had caused me to say such hurtful things to Michaela . . . that had blocked my memories of the most beautiful, tender and loving woman in the world.  When I thought of how close I’d come to letting my demon take control and ruin my life, I physically cringed—almost as if I could feel the flick of its repellent tongue on my skin, its breath dank and foul upon my neck.

     Suddenly I realized Michaela was staring at me in concern.

     “Sully, all you all right?” she was saying.  “You became so quiet all of a sudden, and your eyes looked so strange . . .”

     I took a deep breath, and tried to shake off the cloying, gloomy thoughts. “I’m all right,” I told her, plastering on a smile.  “My mind just started wandering . . . I’ve got a powerful imagination and sometimes it goes galloping off on its own before I can stop it.”

     “It appears as if this time, it took you where you didn’t want to go,” Michaela commented solicitously, her eyes still troubled by my abrupt change of mood.

     “Don’t worry about me,” I told her, kissing her swiftly.  “I just got started thinking how close I came to losing you, and it shook me for a moment.  But I know I don’t got to worry about that any more,” I added, my somber mood dissolving in the glow of her presence.  A nimbus of radiance seemed to surround her, as if she lived in light.  A part of me knew that the vision existed in my mind alone; but still, I felt an overpowering sense of awe.  Michaela had brought her incandescence into my life, illuminating all the dark corners of my mind and heart.  And I knew that having once been gilded by her light, I could never return to existing in the shadows.

     I felt her touch on my arm.  “You were drifting away again,” she said.

     “I’m sorry,” I apologized.  “I start thinking of you, and it takes my breath away.”  I smiled at her.  “My concentration too, I guess.  But I’m back with you now, a hundred percent.”

     “Sully, are you sure that you have no more doubts—about us?” Michaela asked suddenly.  “If something still bothers you, please tell me what it is, so that I can allay your fears.  Now that we’ve found each other again, I don’t want any old grievances from the past lingering to mar our happiness.  I want to exorcise all the ghosts, and lay them to rest.”

     “As far as I’m concerned, we already have.  No more doubts, no more fears, no more worries.  Just joy,” I told her softly.

     “For me, as well,” she whispered back, lifting my hand and pressing it to her cheek.  “I love you so much, Sully!”
 “Not half as much as I love you,” I declared.  Several moments passed as we embraced once again, defying the minutes that were ticking away, stealing what little remained of our private time together.

     Michaela was the first of us to be sensible.  “I really must get dressed now, Sully,” she insisted finally, glancing uneasily at the clock.

     I sat up and swung my legs around to the side of the bed, rising to my feet.  “Are you *sure* you want to go ahead with having your ma and Brendan over for supper tonight?” I asked, looking down at her doubtfully.  “I still think you need another day of rest, Michaela.”

     “I’m feeling better and stronger by the moment,” she assured me.  “But I’ll never be ready in time if I don’t get out of this bed now!”

     I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest.  “All right, you win,” I conceded.  I stood in front of her, waiting.

     She looked up at me quizzically, a touch of impatience in her eyes.  “Well?” she said after a moment.

     I looked back at her, puzzled.  “Well, what?”

     “Aren’t you going to leave?” she asked.  “I can hardly disrobe and perform my other—ablutions—with you here in the room, Sully.”

     “I was going to stay here and help you,” I answered, surprised that she hadn’t understood my intentions.  “How are you going to manage, when you probably can’t even put weight on your foot, Michaela?”

     She regarded me wryly.  “I thought I’d hop,” she said.

     “Ha, ha,” I replied.

    “I’m sorry—I couldn’t resist,” she said.  “But actually, Sully, there are a few sets of crutches that I keep here in the clinic for the use of my patients.  They’re stacked in a corner of  the examination room.  I’m sure there must be a pair that are the right size for me—if you would be kind enough to fetch them,” she added.

    “Of course,” I said.  “But—“

    Michaela raised an eyebrow in a silent query.

    “Well, crutches are all well and fine for helping you to get around,” I conceded.  “But what about other things—like—“  I cleared my throat, feeling a blush rising in my face.  “Putting on your, uh, unmentionables, or fastening up your dress in the back—things like that?” I finished awkwardly.

    Michaela was eyeing me with amusement.  “That’s very—noble—of you to want to remain and help me with my ‘unmentionables,’” she said, not quite able to smother a small snort of laughter.  “But I can manage better than you might think, Sully.  And if I *do* have any difficulty with my—‘fastenings’—I can always ask Mother,” she reminded me.

    I grinned in embarrassment, having temporarily forgotten about Michaela’s ma.  “Oh yeah—right,” I said, abashed.  After a moment I added, “Want me to fetch her for you?”

    “It’s not necessary,” Michaela replied.  “I’m sure she’ll be coming to my room any time now.  However, if you see Brendan, you might offer to take him to the café for breakfast,” she suggested.

    “If you want me to,” I responded, less than enthusiastic about the prospect.

    “It would be the polite thing to do, Sully,” Michaela pointed out.

    “Yeah, I suppose,” I said.  “But I’d much rather stay here with you.”

    “We’ll be together again soon enough,” she promised.  “However I really need some time alone with Mother, Sully.  There are many things we need to discuss.”

    “Speaking of which,” I said.  “I was wondering . . .”

    “Yes?” she encouraged, sensing my hesitation.

    “Did you tell your ma about me?” I asked finally.  “I mean about the shooting and all, and me losing my memory?  I kind of got the feeling you didn’t, from the way she reacted when she saw us.  And there was that remark she made about you postponing the wedding . . .?”

    She looked uncomfortable, as if afraid I’d be mad at her answer.

    “You can tell me, Michaela,” I added.  She sighed, but looked at me levelly.

    “No, I didn’t tell her,” she said honestly.  “I simply said that a rather serious matter had arisen which might necessitate the postponement of the wedding.  At the time I sent the telegram, you hadn’t yet exhibited any sign of recovering your memories, Sully.  I had no idea when your memories would return, or to what extent—or even if they’d return at all.  I felt I had no choice but to prepare for the possibility that our wedding might need to be delayed—even that it might never take place.

    “It was such a complicated situation, Sully—impossible to discuss in a wire,” she went on earnestly, as if anxious to make me understand her motives.  “I had intended to write Mother a long letter of explanation, but I was so preoccupied by events happening here that it slipped my mind.  I simply never dreamed that she would take it into her mind to come all the way out here—particularly knowing how much she abhors the journey.”

    “She was worried about you,” I said.  “Enough that she had to travel across country to make sure you were all right.  Just like I had to come to Boston to make sure nothing bad had happened to you.”

    “As I recall, that wasn’t your primary reason for coming,” Michaela said provocatively.

    “Well, no,” I conceded, meeting her sultry look with one of my own. “I had—other things on my mind, I admit.  But I was still worried about you, Michaela.  Coming to Boston and seeing you for myself eased my mind.  I figure your ma decided to visit you for the same reason.”

    “I suppose you’re right,” Michaela acknowledged.  “Still, I wish Mother would finally realize that I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions and conduct her own life, without her parent constantly looking over her shoulder.”

    “Maybe she’s tried to influence your decisions—and even tried to tell you how to live your life—in the past,” I said.  “But this time, I think she was just trying to protect you, Michaela.”

    “But that’s precisely the point,” Michaela argued.  “I just can’t seem to convince Mother that there’s nothing and no one here I need protection from.”

    “Except me,” I said quietly.

    Her eyes were startled.  “What are you talking about?”

    Now it was my turn to fix her with a level stare.  “You know the answer to that, Michaela,” I replied.

    Her expression altered as she absorbed the implication of my statement.  “Sully—you don’t think that I withheld the news from Mother about your loss of memory because I was ashamed—about you, or about us?  Please tell me you don’t believe that!” she said anxiously.

    “Of course not,” I assured her.  “I know you ain’t got it in you to feel that way.  But even so—maybe you shouldn’t tell her.”  I regarded her soberly.

    “What would make you say that?” she asked.

    “Come on, Michaela—we both know I already got enough strikes against me as far as your ma’s concerned,” I said bluntly.  “The way I look, how I live, my lack of schooling, and money . . .  I’m surely not the husband she must have pictured for you.”

    “But Sully—“

    I put up my hand.  “No—hear me out,” I said, and she subsided.  After a pause I went on, “I don’t blame your ma for how she thinks.  She can’t help how she was raised, or those fancy Boston manners she was taught . . .  Or that she wants the very best for you.  Even if the two of you disagree about what that is.  And I even know that despite having her doubts about me, she’s still willing to accept me, for your sake.  At least she was,” I added.

    “But if you tell her what happened to me—how I lost my memory, and why . . . well, she might think I’m ‘damaged goods’—not stable or steady enough to be a good husband to you or a good father to our kids.

    “Telling her the truth about me—well, it might just give her more ammunition to use against our getting married,” I finished soberly.

    “I understand your concerns,” she said kindly.  “But there is no way that Mother will ever dissuade me from marrying you, Sully—and I believe that she finally knows not to try.  Even more importantly, however, I believe that Mother would be much more sympathetic about your circumstances than you expect.  Remember, Sully—she was a doctor’s wife.  Over the years she observed my father treating a wide variety of maladies, and she was his closest confidante when he discussed his cases.”

    “More than you?” I asked in surprise.  She shrugged slightly.

    “Well, perhaps not after I was older and seriously began to study medicine, or when I graduated medical school and joined him in his practice,” she conceded.  “But for many years prior to that, Mother was the first person in the family to whom Father turned—when he wanted to discuss a diagnosis that was troubling him, or to celebrate his successful treatment of a patient . . . or for consolation, when despite all his efforts, a patient died.

    “Mother does have a tender side,” Michaela added.  “Granted, she conceals it well!  But it *does* exist, and I know it sustained my father on many occasions.”

    “She’s a strong woman—that’s clear,” I agreed.  “And it’s obvious where you get your backbone from.  And maybe you’re right—maybe she’ll be more understanding than I’m giving her credit for.

    “But don’t be surprised if things turn out different than you expect,” I warned.  Somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Michaela’s ma wasn’t going to take the news about me very well.

    No, not very well at all.

* * * * * * * * * *

    “Sully,” Michaela said.  “I don’t mean to be a nuisance, but—my crutches, please?’

    “Oh yeah, sure—I’m sorry,” I said quickly, abruptly startled out of my pessimistic thoughts.  I took a step toward the door.  “Back in a moment,” I added.

    Our eyes met briefly.  I fancied I was concealing my uneasy feelings, but she must have detected something in my face before I turned away.

    “Sully,” she repeated.  I faced her again.  She was looking at me steadily.  “You’re going to marry me—not my mother,” she said quietly, but firmly.  “Whatever she thinks about us—for good or ill—makes no difference.

    “All that matters is what we feel,” she added even more softly.  “That we love each other, and that we’re going to keep on loving each other all of our days.”

    I crossed back over to the bed and knelt in front of her.  “Count on it,” I whispered, cupping her face in my hands and pressing my lips to hers.  The kiss strengthened and deepened, and before we knew it our hands were seeking each other again, touching and exploring as our mouths tasted hungrily of one another.  For a few precious minutes we hung suspended in our own private world of passion and sensation.  My whole universe consisted of her eyes and nose and mouth; the scent and silkiness of her hair and the velvety softness of her skin.  It took every bit of my strength to pull away from her at last.  Only the thought that her ma could walk in on us at any moment was enough to douse my passion—well, diminish it a little, anyway.

    I gave her one last kiss and stood, then backed slowly to the door, unwilling to take my eyes off her.  “I’ll be right back with your crutches,” I said, turning away from her at last as I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

    And found myself face to face with Mrs. Quinn.

* * * * * * * * * *
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

     Sully gazed at her intensely, his entire heart and soul mirrored in his eyes.  She knew that the future of their love—of their very lives—rested on what she said next.

     Michaela felt nearly crushed under the weight of the awesome responsibility she bore.  Mutely Sully implored her to put the pain of the past twenty-four hours behind them, by giving him the answer he so desperately sought.  And how desperately she wanted to give him that answer—to turn back the clock and pretend that this nightmare had never happened.

     But she didn’t dare.  Because it *had* happened.  It was still happening.  Granted, Sully appeared to have made a breakthrough when he recalled his words to her during their trip to Harding’s Mill—which seemed to indicate that he was beginning to recover his memories.  But he was still a long way from being the same man as before his accident, his mind and memories intact.  There was no guarantee that he would get back all that he had lost.

     There were other issues to deal with as well.  Vital matters she hadn’t had the chance to explain or discuss with Sully as yet.  Such as the deadline Hazen had imposed for Sully to resume his job on the reservation.  While she was satisfied that physically Sully was recovered enough to perform his duties, she still had no idea whether emotionally he was ready—or willing—to go back.

     But by far, the more sinister concern to Michaela was the continuing threat of Custer.  Mercifully, there’d been no recurrence of the army officer’s visit to the clinic, during which he’d tried to threaten and intimidate her into letting him see Sully.  But she knew their adversary still lurked in the vicinity.  More importantly, she knew Custer wouldn’t rest until he’d carried out his vendetta against Sully and Cloud Dancing.  There was still no word on the fate of Bloody Knife, but if he turned up dead—or even if he simply remained missing—Michaela feared that Custer would make Cloud Dancing and Sully pay with their lives.

     Michaela’s gravest worry, however, was the emotional crisis Sully had suffered prior to his injury—the dark cloud that relentlessly hovered over them.  As much as Michaela wanted to pledge herself to Sully, she couldn’t forget what had caused his amnesia.  Sully’s emotional difficulties continued to cast a pall over their future, and she knew that they would never be able to move forward unless she was honest with him at last—regardless of what it might cost them.

     But how did she begin?  Oh God, how did she begin?

     “Sully,” she finally whispered.  “I—don’t know what to say . . .”

     His gaze was riveted on her face.  “Say ‘yes,’” he answered with a lop-sided smile, the pleading expression in his eyes belying the lightness of his remark.

     “I want to . . .” she ventured hesitantly.  Every nerve ending in her body burned for his touch, as her overwhelming love and need for him swelled inside her and begged for release.

     “Don’t be afraid,” Sully implored her. “ I told you, Michaela, I don’t care that you kept our relationship from me at first.  I don’t care about anythin’, ‘cept lovin’ you and spendin’ my life with you.”  He lowered his head and gazed searchingly into her eyes.  “I think you feel the same way,” he added softly.

     “I do,” Michaela admitted after a long hesitation, unable to keep her emotions in check any longer.  “Hiding my feelings from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Sully.  But there are things you don’t know—“

     Heartened by her confession, Sully spoke again.  “Michaela, after all we been through, I don’t think there’s anythin’ else you could tell me that could keep us apart,” he said.  “I caught pneumonia, I got shot, I nearly died—and when I finally came to, I had no idea who you were, or that we loved each other.  But despite all that, the love I had for you was always there inside me, just waitin’ to come out.”  He took her hands in his.

     “Don’t you see?” he went on eagerly.  “Our love couldn’t be denied.  It was meant to be.  And I know we can face anythin’, Michaela—as long as we’re together.”

     “I’ve always believed that,” she said slowly.  “But Sully, if I were to accept your proposal now, I’d feel as if—I were marrying you under false pretenses.”  There—she’d said it.  She’d finally admitted that their relationship was based on a lie.  Michaela could barely bring herself to look at him, but finally she forced her eyes to meet his.  And saw to her shock that he was smiling.

     “False pretenses?” he echoed.  “Like what?”  He regarded her roguishly.  “Are you sayin’ you got a husband stashed away somewhere?  Or maybe you’re not really Michaela Quinn at all, but a mysterious imposter in disguise,” he intoned dramatically.  “That actually sounds kinda excitin’,” he teased.  His grin was provocative.

     Michaela couldn’t resist a momentary smile, even as she remonstrated with him.  “Sully, I’m trying to be serious.”

     “And I’m tryin’ not to be,” he said immediately, discarding his irreverent manner and  gazing at her earnestly.  “I think we’ve had way too much of bein’ serious lately, Michaela.  It’s time to stop worryin’ about the past and think about the future.  It’s time to let ourselves be happy.”  His eyes were fastened on hers.  “I think we have that right—I think we earned it,” he said.

     Michaela felt a pang inside.  Sully made it all sound so simple . . .

     “There’s nothing I want more than to say yes . . .“ she faltered.

     “But you can’t,” he anticipated her.  “Until you free your mind of what’s troublin’ you.”

    Once again, in his uncanny way, Sully had read her thoughts.  His ordeal may have stolen his memories; but somehow, the mysterious, intangible bond which had always connected them had survived.

     “Yes,” she admitted softly after a pause.  “But that’s not all of it.  I’m afraid that even telling you could be a grave mistake—that I could hurt you, or—cause you damage.”  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “I’m so frightened of doing the wrong thing, Sully.”  As she spoke, she couldn’t suppress a slight shiver.
Sully’s eyes softened even more with love and compassion.

     “That’s what’s been scarin’ you since the beginnin’, ain’t it?” he said gently.  “You needed to tell me somethin’ about myself, but you were afraid I couldn’t handle it—that maybe I still can’t.”  Michaela nodded silently, her eyes cast downward.  Suddenly, however, she felt Sully’s hand cupping her chin.  Tenderly he raised her face to his so that he could look into her eyes.  “I understand,” he went on softly.  “And I’m sorry for puttin’ you through so much agony on my behalf.  I was so blind for so long—and I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ it up to you if that’s what it takes.”  Michaela felt tears prick behind her eyes.  Sully was being so kind—so understanding.  So much more than she felt she deserved.

     “I respect your feelin’s,” he was saying as she refocused her attention on him.   “And fact is, I think maybe you were right.  In the beginnin’, I may not have been able to handle the truth—whatever it is—about what’s wrong with me.

     “But things have changed, Michaela,” he said.  “We have each other now.  I know that I love you, and I know that you love me.  I can hold onto that, no matter what you have to tell me about myself.”

     Michaela’s tears threatened more strongly.  Sully was trying so hard to reassure her, innocently trusting that the truth she had to impart couldn’t possibly be as bad as she feared.  But he didn’t understand.  He had no inkling of how shattering this particular knowledge might be.

    Suddenly, she couldn’t bear it any longer.  She had to say the words, despite how much it might hurt them both.  “Even if—what I have to tell you is that you don’t *truly* want to marry me?” she said just above a whisper, her quiet misery lending even more poignancy to her words.

    Immediately she could see that he didn’t believe her.

    “Impossible,” he responded.

    Now that she’d managed to get the first words out, Michaela was able to summon the strength to continue her confession.  “Sully, don’t toss this off,” she cautioned soberly.  “It may sound improbable to you right now—but there were things you said to Cloud Dancing when the two of you were together in the mountains—fears that you expressed to him—that seemed to indicate that you had grave worries about our future together.”  Her face was pale but her eyes were determined as she gazed at him.

    “Go on,” Sully said after a moment.  She could see that he remained unconvinced, but that he was respectful of her need to purge herself of her own fears.

    With an effort she continued, “Sully, I’m sure you’ve spent countless hours wondering what caused you to block out your memories. But have you ever wondered why you erased your memories of me?  Did it ever occur to you that a commitment to me may have been so troubling or frightening to you, that your mind would choose to block it out completely, rather than allow you to confront or admit your fears?”

    Michaela was almost afraid to look into Sully’s eyes, for fear of what she would find there.  Now that he was finally hearing the truth about himself, she couldn’t help but believe that he would be irrevocably changed by the knowledge.  But as she reluctantly stole a glance at him, she saw that Sully’s eyes were clear and serene; and—miraculously—still full of love.

    “No, I never thought of that,” he responded now to her painful query.  “Because I can’t conceive of it, Michaela.  There are plenty of things to be scared of in this world, but lovin’ and marryin’ you ain’t one of them.”

    As much as Michaela wanted to draw comfort from Sully’s words, she couldn’t let him blindly dismiss the problem without knowing what was at stake.

    “But it could be—if you believed you would lose me if we married!” she said suddenly, forcing out the words and revealing the bitter heart of Sully’s struggle at last.  Swallowing with difficulty she went on, “The way you lost Abagail—the way you lost your family before that, and then the Cheyenne later on . . .  All the people you cared about, Sully—your real family, your adopted family, and the wife and child that you loved.”  Her face was strained as she looked at him.  “What if you thought you were cursed—and that it would be kinder—safer—to break things off between us, rather than risk losing me as you lost everyone else?”

    Her words hung in the air in the sudden silence.  A paralyzing wave of fear washed over Michaela briefly, as she realized that she had crossed the last boundary.  There was no going back now.

    She turned anxious eyes to Sully, and was immediately alarmed.  He was staring at some point past her shoulder, but she knew that his inner eyes were looking at another landscape.  Shock had leeched the color from his face, and even as she watched, she saw a sheen of sweat break out on his waxy brow.

    Suddenly he fell back on the ground, gasping.  Even from a few feet away, Michaela could see the pulse leaping in his throat.  She wanted to jump up and go to him, but all she could do was sit and watch him helplessly.

    “Are you all right?” she asked him frantically.  His breath continued to come in shuddering gasps, and he didn’t answer.  Michaela’s alarm turned to icy fear.  “Sully!” she repeated, desperate to elicit a response from him.  “What is it?  Please tell me what you’re thinking!  Have you remembered something?”

    Michaela’s heart was thundering in her chest.  What had she done?  Oh God, what had she done?!

    And then he spoke.

    “I had a dream,” he said, his voice initially faint, but slowly gathering strength as he continued speaking.  “I was with Abagail as she was dyin’—‘cept—when she looked at me, it wasn’t Abagail.”  He raised tortured eyes to her.  “It was you.”  He stared at her, appalled.  A moment later he whispered, “Oh, my God.“

    Immediately Michaela understood the significance of the dream—the transference in Sully’s mind between Abagail and herself, as a way for his subconscious to express his deep-rooted fear that she would die, too—just as Abagail had.  Michaela suspected that an additional fear tormented Sully as well:  that he wouldn’t be able to save her—any more than he had been able to prevent Abagail’s fate.

    Michaela noted Sully’s color returning slightly as he haltingly described his nightmare—as if the act of articulating his anxiety was bringing him a slight measure of calm.  She felt a brief surge of hope.  Perhaps if she encouraged Sully to continue talking about the fears represented by his dream, they would lose their power to terrify.

    “When did you have the dream?” she asked softly.  She could see the uncertainty in his eyes as his mind strained to remember.

    “I ain’t exactly sure—but I think it was after I was shot,” he said after a pause.  “I know I blacked out when I was hit—but I remember comin’ to a little later—enough so that I knew I was on a horse with Cloud Dancin’.  I must have drifted off and slept—and I had that dream.  I don’t remember anythin’ after that.”

     “Can you remember anything before the dream?” she prompted gently.

     Briefly he closed his eyes, then opened them again and sought hers.  “Bits and pieces,” he said after a moment.  “Nothin’ real clear.  But I think—maybe it will start to come back to me.”

     Michaela felt a fleeting rush of joy sweep in to displace some of her worry.  “This may truly be the beginning!” she said tremulously.  “Oh, Sully, I’m so glad for you!  But—“  She broke off raggedly as she realized that Sully had yet to express his reaction to the revelations of his dream—and her words.  Summoning her courage, she added tentatively, “How do you feel about what I told you?  Do you—remember those feelings?”  She swallowed.  “Do you remember being afraid to marry me?”

     He hesitated for another long moment, then spoke.  “I’m startin’ to.  I can remember . . . feelin’ scared, and guilty—and thinkin’ . . . I didn’t have the right to marry you.”  He turned confused eyes on her.  “But I don’t understand why I suddenly got terrified like that, out of the blue—or why I wasn’t worried about marryin’ you all along,” he confessed.

     It was Michaela’s turn to be momentarily silent as she sought to explain Sully’s emotional reactions.

     “I believe it was Washita,” she gently ventured at last.  “I think—seeing the Cheyenne so brutally murdered was the—the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Or to put it another way, I think the loss of the people you loved was a catalyst to releasing the fear about me that you’d been carrying deep inside yourself.  And the pain of their deaths, as well as the intensity of your fear, was too great a burden for your mind to endure—so you blocked it out . . . blocked me out,” she added quietly.

     “I’m sorry,” Sully said, the words catching in his throat, as he looked at her with infinite remorse.

     His guilt tore at Michaela’s heart.  “You mustn’t be sorry!” she exhorted him.  “Sully, you had no control over what happened to you.  You were grieving—not just for the Cheyenne, but for everyone you’d ever loved who’d left you.  Grief affects people in different ways—but no matter how one expresses grief, its effects can be devastating.”  She paused, feeling her heart begin to pound at what she needed to say next.  Finally she resumed, “The question now is . . . what are you feeling?  What do you want, Sully—now that you know the truth?”  Silence stretched between them as she awaited his reply.

     Sully got up on his knees, so that his eyes were level with hers.  Michaela watched as his hands went to his medicine pouch.  He loosened the drawstring, then reached inside and withdrew a small object.  His hand was closed around it, concealing it from her eyes.  But a moment later his fingers opened like the petals of a flower, to reveal her engagement ring.  The diamond flashed brilliantly as it caught the dying light of the setting sun.  Sully took her left hand in his, and tenderly slid the circlet of gold onto her fourth finger.

     “I want you,” Sully said softly, as he kissed her hand.  “I want to marry you—now more than ever.  I love you, Michaela.”

     Michaela gazed into the sapphire depths of his eyes—the eyes that she loved so dearly.  The word Sully was aching to hear trembled on her lips, but she didn’t dare to utter it without making one last attempt to ensure that Sully knew his own mind—and his own heart.  That he was truly and finally ready to commit himself to her.

     “But—are you sure?” she said, her voice hushed.  “Your fears about us were disturbing enough to you that you lost your memory because of them.”  She took a deep breath.  “Sully, are you sure you can let go of your fear, and face the future?”  Her body was rigid with tension as she waited anxiously for his reply, but Sully’s eyes as he gazed at her were calm and clear.

     “I know I’d fear the future more if I didn’t have you,” he told her gently.  “Truth is, I wouldn’t want a future without you, Michaela.  I know there ain’t no guarantees—but nobody gets guarantees in this life.  And if you’re lucky enough to find your true love—then you need to hold on tight and love each other—and never let each other go.”  Sully’s voice dropped to a whisper as he raised one hand to caress her cheek.  “Please,” he beseeched her.  “Please marry me, Michaela.”

     Michaela felt as if a sad and ponderous burden was slipping from her shoulders at last.  Suddenly her heart and her spirit felt light and free.  Perhaps, at last, it was safe for her to surrender to her heart’s desire.

     “Yes,” she whispered back.  “Yes, Sully, I’ll marry you.”

     Joyfully Sully drew her into his arms, and she kissed away his tears.

* * * * * * * * * *

     The ride back into town ended too quickly.  Reluctantly Michaela roused herself from the delightful reverie she’d been having in which she replayed Sully’s proposal over and over—as well as the joy of awakening from her brief nap by the campfire to find his beautiful smile and strong arms waiting for her.  She recalled his promise to stay with her in the clinic and take care of her (“Do you really think I could ever leave you now?”)—and she felt as if she were wrapped in a blanket woven of Sully’s love.

    She sighed.  It was going to be very hard to return to an ordinary routine after the extraordinary events that had transpired this day, she thought.

     They saw Matthew waiting on the porch as they pulled up before the clinic.  The young man watched with startled eyes as Sully jumped lightly down from the driver’s box and reached up to lift Michaela into his arms.

     “Dr. Mike, what happened?” Matthew asked quickly.

     “Just a sprain, Matthew—I’m fine,” she hastily reassured him.

     “But this lady needs some pamperin’,” Sully spoke up, his eyes resting on hers.  They smiled at one another.

     “We’ll be sure to help out any way we can,” Matthew pledged, then added, “Dr. Mike—“

     “Matthew, could you get my medical bag out of the wagon?” Michaela broke in.

     “Sure,” he replied.  “But Dr. Mike—“

     “I’m goin’ to take your ma into the clinic and get her settled,” Sully announced to Matthew as he carried Michaela up onto the porch.  “Could you round up Colleen and Brian for us?” he added.  “We all got a lot to talk about.”  He favored Michaela with another intimate smile.

     “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Matthew was saying.  “But Dr. Mike, there’s somethin’ you should know.”  The insistent tone in his voice finally seized Michaela’s attention.

     “What is it, Matthew?” she asked curiously.

     But her son was saved from answering as the clinic door opened and Michaela’s mother stepped across the threshold.

     “Michaela!” exclaimed Elizabeth, astonished, as she caught sight of her youngest daughter ensconced in Sully’s arms.

     “Mother!” Michaela burst out at the same instant, her expression equally shocked.  “What—what are you doing here?” she managed to stammer after a moment.

     “Well I came in response to your telegram,” Elizabeth replied.  “I wanted to see for myself why you were considering postponing the wedding.” She continued to regard them askance.  “Your wire was less than forthcoming,” she added bluntly.

    “I never expected—that is, you could simply have written,” Michaela faltered.  “I intended to write a longer explanation to you soon—it’s just that I’ve been so busy—“  She trailed off,  flustered.

     “So it would seem,” Elizabeth said acidly.

    "Mother, I sprained my ankle—I couldn’t walk, so Sully was carrying me,” Michaela said quickly, resenting the insinuation.

     “Are you all right?” he mother asked belatedly.

     “I’ll be fine,” her daughter answered.  “But Mother, it really wasn’t necessary for you to come all the way out here—“

     “And an arduous journey it was,” Elizabeth said with familiar distaste.  “But fortunately, I didn’t need to make it alone.”  She turned toward the doorway behind her as a tall figure appeared in the entrance, then stepped out onto the porch.

     Michaela saw a strikingly handsome man, perhaps in his early thirties, with medium-length dark hair parted in the middle and falling in sleek waves at his temples.  Though his height and stunning good looks attracted the attention of more than one female passerby, it was his eyes that most captured Michaela’s imagination.  At first glance, they appeared to be a clear, crystal blue—their shade reminding Michaela of a winter sky reflected in an icy pond.  However as the visitor moved out of the shadow and into the light, the color of his eyes seemed to subtly change, until Michaela would have sworn that they were a translucent sea-green.  Their illusory quality was compelling, and she was momentarily fascinated.

     Elizabeth stretched out her hand toward the stranger.  He stepped forward to join her, and Michaela glimpsed the flicker of a dimple as he flashed then a charismatic smile.

     “Michaela, Mr. Sully—may I present Brendan Burke,” she said.

.