Chapter Twelve

If Sara wanted to create an uproar at the King farm, she certainly accomplished it by taking a tumble into the barnyard. Even as Alec struggled to harness the jittery horse to the buggy to hightail it for the doctor, Blair was scooping Sara up in his arms, completely ignoring Hetty’s frantic commands not to move her until it was known whether or not she had broken every bone in her body. Janet trotted beside Blair, feeling Sara’s forehead and making small, motherly noises when Sara began to groan. Felix, Felicity and Andrew retrieved Sara’s hat from where it had fallen and looked at each other in silence. They had thought up the hiding place and helped Sara to conceal herself there. With all the accusations flying back and forth, there was a good chance now that they might get blamed for the entire thing. That is, if they ever got over blaming themselves.

Hetty succeeded in badgering Blair into rushing Sara straight to her own bed in Rose Cottage. After the doctor came, there nothing anyone could do but sit in the parlor and wait—so the people in the parlor sat and waited with all their might, Alec and Hetty on one side, Jasper Dale and Olivia on the other. Jasper and Olivia had almost been run over by Alec in the village and had followed him and the doctor back, posthaste, when they heard of the catastrophe. Janet stayed at the King farm to keep an eye on the children. Blair sat upstairs with the doctor. No one could forget how pale and limp Sara had looked when she had been laid on her pillow, still unconscious, moaning raggedly.

Finally, after an age, Dr. Blair descended the stairs carrying his black bag and faced the anxious watchers in the parlor.

“Well, I’ve set her leg,” he told them, looking just a little too grave for comfort. “It was only a small fracture. But she might have a concussion. She’s sleeping quite comfortably now, but you must wake her up every hour. She must not be allowed to fall into a deep sleep.”

“May I go and see her?” Olivia asked at once. Waiting helplessly in the parlor had been the worst torture she’d endured since trying to get two full sentences in a row out of Jasper Dale.

“Oh, certainly.” As Olivia instantly left the room and hurried up the stairs, the doctor sighed and turned to the rest. “Well, I’ll take my leave now, Hetty. Call me if there’s any change at all, mmm?”

Hetty nodded, looking as though she would walk into Avonlea herself if necessary. When she got up to see the doctor to the door, he only waved her away.

“Oh, no, I’ll see myself out.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

As the front door closed, Alec got to his feet.

“Well, there’s no point in all of us staying up all night, so, uh, I’ll get back home and keep Janet and the children company. They’re worried sick. Hetty...”

When Hetty looked up, Alec stopped, deciding not to broach the quarrel again. Her face was stark and drawn, and she’d clearly been through quite enough today already. Instead, Alec put his hand reassuringly on Hetty’s arm.

“Goodnight,” he said simply.

“Goodnight,” Hetty replied, looking grateful for the silent support.

Nodding to Jasper, Alec left. With Alec gone, Jasper suddenly found himself sitting all alone in the parlor with Hetty King. For Jasper, this was just about the same as being left in a cage with a live tiger, and he began to glance nervously towards the front door through which Alec and Dr. Blair had escaped unscathed. Much as he longed to flee, though, Jasper remained heroically sitting, even with all the family tension crackling around him. Hetty or no Hetty, he was determined to wait it out for Olivia.

Upstairs, Olivia was softly pushing open the door of Sara’s room. Sara, still shockingly white, was lying asleep under the quilt, her leg propped up and in a cast. Blair, who had been sitting at Sara’s bedside since she had been brought in, looked up briefly as Olivia peeped in, then looked away. His face was pinched with worry and bore no sign of the belligerence that had characterized it so much with Hetty. Olivia saw that it was not a good time to go in, so she shut the door noiselessly and turned back to the corridor.

Jasper must have heard her footsteps. He leaped up like a reprieved prisoner and was already pulling on his coat when Olivia glided to the bottom of the stairs. Finding himself alone in the front hail with Olivia, speech deserted Jasper entirely.

“Oh...um...” he mumbled, wanting desperately to ask how Sara was but unable to find a single word left in his vocabulary.

Olivia, who had only caught that one distressing glimpse of the child, was on the edge of tears. She looked up at Jasper, her eyes swimming.

“Oh, Jasper...she just looks so little and...pale.”

The sight of Olivia’s eyes almost made Jasper’s wits desert him along with his speech. He showed every sign of wanting to run or wanting to faint, and clearly had no idea what to do in such a situation. He gulped twice and, with an air of a man forcing himself through fire, laid his hand shakily on Olivia’s shoulder by way of comfort.

He could have had no inkling of the effect this tiny gesture would have on Olivia. As if a spring were released, she flung both arms around Jasper’s neck. The next instant, Jasper found himself hugging her to his chest and looking as stunned as though the Avonlea Town Hall had just tumbled down upon him.

They had forgotten all about Hetty who was still sitting in the parlor. Catching sight of the tender scene, she rose to her feet as though blasted by dynamite. She was only saved from further action by the fact of Olivia regaining a measure of control and letting go of Jasper. Olivia was more than a little shocked herself at the liberty she had just taken.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, wiping at one eye. “The whole day’s been really hard for me.”

Jasper, who didn’t look sorry at all, began to twitch and bob.

“I’ll. ..um.. .I’ll come by tomorrow and see how she is,” he promised, his ears turning into flaming beacons as Olivia gazed up at him.

“Thank you,” returned Olivia, with more heartfelt gratitude than Jasper could possibly imagine he deserved.

Clutching his coat to his throat, Jasper got the front door open. The coat remained buttoned all lopsided, in spite of Olivia’s effort to straighten it. When Jasper left, Olivia closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a long moment after he was gone.

In the parlor, Hetty had sunk down again, scandalized by the scene she had just witnessed.

Not only that, she was still holding her cup and saucer from the cup of tea she had been trying to drink. Belatedly, she tried to put them on the tea tray, only to have them tumble over the side and fall to the floor with a crash.

“Oh!” she cried in aggravation, kneeling swiftly to pick up the pieces. Why did the world have to pick today to collapse around her ears!

Startled by the clatter, Olivia pushed herself away from the door and hurried over to Hetty’s side.

“Do you want some help cleaning it up?” she offered, knowing how Hetty hated any kind of mess.

How could Olivia brazenly march in like that— just after throwing herself at Jasper Dale? In irritation, Hetty took a swipe at Olivia with her napkin.

“Leave me alone, Olivia!” she snapped. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself!”

Being snapped at was just about the last straw for Olivia. Strengthened by her encounter with Jasper, Olivia gave vent to her own built-up exasperation.

“Hetty, you don’t always have to pretend to be the strong one! If you’d only listened to me in the first place ...you just end up chasing away the very people you love the most.”

Olivia had failed to notice that Hetty hovered on the verge of a breakdown. To her utter astonishment, Hetty screwed up the napkin, flung it down and burst into tears.

“I know, Olivia. I know it. Now I’ve lost Sara. I should never have stood in Blair Stanley’s way. I’m losing you, too.” Hetty dabbed at her lashes and looked towards the front windows, through which Jasper Dale could be seen leaning in a dazed state against his horse. “But as you suggest, I’ve no one to blame but myself, so...”

Hetty snuffled loudly. Shaken thoroughly, Olivia touched a hand to her sister’s shoulder.

Hetty was always the firm foundation of the Kings. If Hetty crumbled, why, the whole King family would crumble too, Olivia believed.

“Hetty you haven’t lost Sara, and you haven’t lost me.”

Hetty turned abruptly back to the broken cup and shakily scooped up some pieces, dropping more than she picked up.

“Oh...here...” she choked, pushing a handful of china at Olivia and rushing off up the stairs herself.

Upstairs, Blair still sat holding Sara’s hand as she lay asleep. Hetty opened the door and hesitated. Then, gathering all her courage, she edged inside the room. Blair looked up, but completely without hostility. With Sara in the state she was, it seemed pretty silly to be struggling over how soon she was going to get on a train. Hetty had only been acting the way she had because she, too, cared so much about Sara.

“Why don’t you sit down, Hetty? There’s room.”

To prove it, he shifted over on the small settee and made a space for her. Awkwardly, Hetty sat down beside him just as Blair checked his watch and shook Sara gently. He was carrying out the doctor’s instructions about not letting her fall into a deep sleep.

“Sara? Sara.”

Sara opened her eyes the merest slit, taking in the blurry figure of her father and then—stars above—that of her Aunt Hetty!

In her bewildered condition, Sara couldn’t get her eyes open any further, but her brain registered the two sworn enemies sitting meekly together, side by side on the settee. Nobody was yelling. Nobody was threatening tar or feathers, or any of the other dire menaces that had flown back and forth in the last twenty-four hours. Somehow, though Sara couldn’t imagine how, her father and her Aunt Hetty had made up. Miracles must really happen after all.

Though Sara was still in some faraway world of sleep, a ghost of a smile touched her lips and she snuggled back against the pillow with a sigh. Oh yes, the end result was well worth falling backward out of a barn for.

As Sara sank back into her dreams, Hetty let out a great breath, her inflexible will unbending at last.

“Blair Stanley, like it or not, we’re ...bound together by...those we love.”

She was thinking not only of Sara but of Ruth, whom they had all loved tremendously.