A Bride for Keeps (22 page)

She flinched against a scorching twinge. “He pressured me to marry a business partner
entirely for his gain, not mine. That’s when I realized he loved me as little as my
mother had.” How could a father overlook a man’s indecency toward his daughter—no
matter how much he could profit?

“Do you think I’m like your father? Only worried about my gain?” He kept his gaze
on his hands as if afraid to hear the answer. A vulnerable question. Since her fever
had broken, he’d repeatedly exposed himself to her criticism—like he was asking for
it—apologizing for every real or imaginary sin he believed he’d committed against
her.

“No, I don’t think you’re like him.” Everett was trying to give her his heart, though
she’d yet to give him anything of worth.

“Good. Have I told you I didn’t know Rachel asked you here on my behalf?”

More confessions. How many more could he own up to before she couldn’t stand the guilt
of her own unacknowledged sins? “I gathered as much.”

“Well, I just wanted you to know that I’m glad she did.” He winked.

He wanted her to smile, but Julia couldn’t. He was falling in love with her if he
wasn’t already, and that made her feel even worse for having a hesitant heart.

Sighing, Julia clenched her fist to keep from knocking the doctor’s probing hand away
so she could scratch her itchy leg. The man sure took his sweet time. While Rachel
made the evening meal for the third time in a row, Everett hovered over the doctor’s
shoulder.

Her leg had been better more than a week now. She had told Everett, but he wouldn’t
believe her until the doctor said so himself. Eight full days passed before Everett
tracked down the busy man, and another three for him to come. Evidently, a rash of
cholera was keeping the county doctor busy.

“My leg feels better. It does. I know it’s healed.” Why must he tarry so long? “Besides
feeling a bit numb along the scar line, it couldn’t feel better.”

Dr. Forsythe laid her leg back onto the new rope bedstead. “I think you’re right.
And one lucky girl.” He gathered the dingy bandages and splint material. “I thought
Lister’s idea of using acid was either sheer idiocy or wild genius. I kept expecting
you to call me for an amputation.” He patted her arm. “Good thing I heard about his
methods before leaving Boston. Most likely saved your leg and your life.”

She shuddered at the vision of her right leg missing. Perhaps that’s why Everett had
hardly left her side during her recuperation. If she had gotten through the infection
and fever, yet lost her leg, he’d have been bound forever to a crippled woman, even
more of a burden. She released a sigh.

“I wondered if I’d doomed you to life with a useless, painful limb, but it healed
by first intention without even an appearance of laudable pus like Lister predicted.”
He took a long look at her leg and hesitated before covering it with the fold of her
nightdress as if burying a treasure. “Though you could have simply beaten the odds.”

“It was a miracle, Doc.” Rachel put her hand on his shoulder. “Lots of prayers to
the Lord were offered at this bedside.”

Everett nodded behind Rachel, his eyes closed.

Julia frowned. Everett had told her how the doctor assumed she would die or need an
amputation. Did their prayers work, or was she simply lucky, as the doctor said?

The doctor’s lower lip protruded a bit, but he gave a sharp nod. “I suppose the Almighty
can do better work than me.” He patted her shoulder. “If you received His special
attention, then you’d have to be extraordinary.” Taking a long look at her skirt as
if he could see through the fabric to her scarred leg, he fiddled with his satchel’s
handle. “I have no more to do here. You might feel the effects of this injury for
years to come, especially on days the weather changes drastically. I do believe I’ll
keep using Lister’s methods to see if they hold out.”

Julia shook her head. There was nothing extraordinary about her; maybe the advancement
of medical practices had healed her. God shouldn’t have worked a miracle just for
her. She wasn’t worth it. He would be as ashamed of her past as she was—and how she
was treating her husband now.

Dr. Forsythe turned to shake Everett’s hand but was pulled
into an embrace. The man’s fat sides bulged over Everett’s tightened arms. After stepping
back from the bear hug, the doctor cleared his throat. “Well, so long, Mr. and Mrs.
Cline. I have more visits in the direction of Fossil Creek.” A big yawn split his
mouth open wide.

Rachel handed him a loaf of bread. “You get some rest, Doctor.”

Dr. Forsythe stared at Rachel. “I don’t intend to take lectures from a woman in your
state. The bags under your eyes are as large as my own, I’m sure. You should be getting
more sleep.”

Her hand slid to her swollen abdomen. “I try.”

The doctor took his leave, and Julia swung her legs to the mattress’s edge and breathed
in deeply. Her arms pushed against the bed frame, but Everett’s hands on her shoulders
stopped her progress. She growled at him. “I’m fine. The doctor took away the bandages
and declared me a miracle. Please let me stand. I can’t stay in this bed any longer.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You need to take things slow.”

She groaned. “If we take this as slow as you want, I’ll be here another month. My
leg’s been better for several days now, but I submitted. Now please, let me move to
that chair over there. I’ve yet to enjoy any of the new furniture.” At his half-cocked
brow, she pleaded. “The doctor gave me no restrictions. I just want to sit, not turn
cartwheels.”

He held out his hand. “All right, but I don’t want you to fall. You’ve lost your strength.”

She could not argue with that and allowed him to guide her as she took a few feeble
steps to the chair with the fancy embroidered cushion. Her embroidery decorated all
four chairs. The embarrassing progress of her needlepoint skills graced
their seats. She might not have gotten any better at patience during her bed rest,
but her needlework had improved. Of all the silly things to be wasting time doing.

Everett sat in the chair beside her and placed a small kiss at the crown of her head,
breathing in deeply. “You smell lovely,” he whispered.

Thankfully, Rachel was busy cooking and couldn’t see her flamed face. Memories of
the rag bath he’d helped her with last night brought warmth to her cheeks. He’d bought
lavender water especially for her on his last trip to town. Tilting her head toward
Rachel, she shushed him. Prudish of her, considering the care he’d performed while
her leg healed, but things had not changed between them that way.

The ordeal had brought them closer, but for him to flirt boldly in front of Rachel
made her cringe. Only a girl of ill repute would encourage such public behavior. But
was it different if they were married? In front of a good friend? She’d not thought
ill of Rachel when Dex had leaned in for a kiss, but for her . . . She reached for
her brooch, but it wasn’t at her neck.

A sly smile played at his lips before he left the new cabin through its wonderful,
properly hung front door.

“Oh, he frustrates me!” She strangled the arms of her chair.

Rachel turned from the stove. “How so?”

Her thumbs rubbed the smooth woodwork of the armrest. Impressive. “I don’t know. Just
does. He’s underfoot all the time. And this is the first time I’ve been out of bed
for him to actually have a chance at being underfoot.”

Rachel snickered.

“Don’t you laugh! I had to answer unending questions, explain my embroidery, listen
to him read sermons . . . He pestered me more than Sticky.”

“My, aren’t we crabby.”

“I’m not crabby, I’m . . .” Fine. She was crabby.

“Maybe a nap is in order. Think I ought to help you back into bed.” Rachel wiped her
hands on her towel.

“No, please no.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then lifted her gaze to meet
Rachel’s. “I’m all right. A bit testy, yes. But you don’t know how it is to be in
bed for weeks.” She grimaced. “Embroidering chair cushions.”

Rachel’s mouth skewed to the side. “I think you should hop in bed and make a few more.”

“What?” She gripped the chair’s arms tighter, but the twitch in Rachel’s mouth gave
her away. She relaxed. “Don’t tease about such a thing. I just got out of bed.”

Rachel clucked and returned to the pan on the stove. “And I thought Dex was a whiny
baby when he’s sick.”

Julia took several deep breaths through her nose and let them out her mouth. Her body
shook with tension. Wouldn’t anyone be irritable after so long in bed? She’d been
sure that once she got up, she’d be happy. But she’d only made it to the chair. Rachel’s
busy hands made her antsy to help, but her legs wouldn’t hold her for any length of
time. How many days of idleness would pass before she could get up and do something?
She scrambled around her mind for positive thoughts.

“Thanks for those prayers, by the way.” Deep down, the knowledge that those prayers
had saved her life fought to be recognized. The pain during her fevers had left her
desirous of death, but now she was glad she’d survived. Was she ready to meet the
God behind the power of those prayers? The quivering in her stomach said no.

“I said prayers sure enough.” Rachel turned to her and brandished a wet serving spoon
at her. “But I think Everett down on his knees was more effectual. How could God ignore
the persistence of that man?” She dished out two bowls of chicken soup. “I don’t think
I’ve seen a clearer picture of praying without ceasing. When your fever was high,
your hallucinations terrified you. I think he stayed up three straight nights early
on, nursing you and praying.” Rachel’s extended belly came into view as she walked
around the table setting dishes.

Julia frowned. “And you here too, with children at home and a babe depending on your
well-being.”

“Don’t worry yourself over things that have turned out just fine.”

“The doctor said you should rest more.” She flexed her feet, trying to banish the
tingling sensation slithering from her toes to her knees. “I’m glad I’ve gotten out
of that bed before you have to be confined to yours.”

Rachel snorted. “Out here, we don’t have the luxury of a confinement.” She rubbed
her lower back. “What a treat that would be.” She smiled at her. “If you want to let
me laze around in bed for a few days and corral my children, I won’t complain much.”

“Consider it done. As long as my guard dog deems me well enough to walk by that time.
He might let me stand by, oh . . . how long do you have?”

“Probably a couple weeks.”

“Hopefully I’ll be promoted to moving on my own by then.” She sighed. “He thinks I’m
worthless.”

“Whatever gave you that crazy idea?”

Her stomach called out to the steamy food piled on the table, so she inched her chair
closer. “Anytime I offered to attempt housework in my splint, he’d refuse. Told me
it was no big deal. Then I tried telling him I could fend for myself for a day so
he could get work done in the fields, but he said
everything was taken care of.” She shook her head. “I’ve been released from the state
of being a burden now, but I’m wondering if I’m actually useful. Evidently, he can
do both our jobs with ease.”

Rachel’s laughter hit the rooftop. “Foolish girl. People have been stopping by this
whole time helping with the outside chores—why do you think you’ve had so many visitors?
They came in to cheer you with their words and then worked in the fields and barn
to encourage Everett.”

Julia furrowed her brow. No one had ever done that much for her back home. She didn’t
really know anyone here except the Stantons. Why would strangers take their precious
time to help her? She’d find out who had spent time doing Everett’s farm chores and
bake them something for their sacrifice.

“And of course, Everett was going to be in here every possible second of the day.
You gave him quite a scare. Not only being crazy enough to walk along the roof of
a leaning shanty, fall, and give yourself one of the worst wounds you can acquire,
but also having a fever so high we were sure you were going to set the sheets afire.”
Rachel set glasses of fresh milk on the table. “The man is trying to protect you from
yourself.”

Julia bit her lip to keep from telling her how she really fell off the roof.

“And might I add, you’re not taking advantage of Everett’s devotion. The time will
come when you have to return to your daily work, but for now, enjoy the attention
your husband wants to dole out.” With a flourish, Rachel flipped napkins on the table
and bent to kiss her on the head. “Get out of that nasty mood and be content. Make
him happy. He is desperately trying to make you so.” She grabbed her shawl and left.

Julia stared at the bowl across from her. Could she shake
herself from her petulance and please him? She knew what would make him happy. Her
breaths quickened of their own accord. Could she do that?

While Everett slurped the broth from his chicken and noodles, Julia swished her spoon
in her still-full bowl. The lump in her throat kept her from consuming food or conversing.

“Was dinner not to your liking?” Everett peered at her bowl.

Because of her need to eat, she squelched the desire to push the food away. She required
strength, and a lot of it, to get back on her feet. She brought a spoonful to her
mouth. “I’m just savoring the meal.”

Frowning, Everett watched her for a second before taking his bowl to the basin. “Don’t
savor too long. It isn’t as delicious cold.”

Chewing, she lamented that her own soup was not near as tasty as Rachel’s. She’d bet
Everett would miss Rachel’s cooking terribly. She would.

Grabbing his chair, Everett scooted nearer. He straddled the seat and crossed his
arms on the chair’s back, his chin propped on his right forearm.

Taking another bite, she avoided his intense gaze. She swallowed, gave in, and peeked.

He smiled. A slow smile.

She ladled another spoonful. That smile did weird things to her stomach. She shouldn’t
have dawdled with the food. “So, now that I’m up and about, I can start household
chores again, freeing you for the work I know has to be piling up.”