Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (24 page)

Now, back in the living room, Alex raised his head to
see that Marcail had been watching him. She knew the
exact direction of his thoughts. Her look turned stern all
over again, but all Alex could do was grin.

An hour or so after lunch, with nearly everyone present, news came that there had been a small fire at the
hotel. The Montgomery doctors didn't hesitate a moment
before going to assist. Alex gave Marcail his usual kiss on
the corner of her mouth and went out with the others.
Quinn also went along to help.

Susan took her four children home so that Stuart, her
youngest, could get a nap. All were coming back for
supper, so the children and women settled in various
parts of the house for play or talk.

For the next two hours Marcail was in Helen's bedroom with Judith, Amber, and Hannah. Marcail loved
the way they included her and would have sat all day, but
Jess and Cole began to argue in the living room. When
Judith arose, Marcail asked if she could go instead.
Judith was more than happy to allow her, and within
minutes Marcail had solved the argument by taking both
boys outside for a game of catch.

Marcail held her own very nicely with her nephews.
Jess had a good arm, and Marcail's hands stung on some
of his harder throws. Jess was putting his all into one
throw when Cole said something to Marcail and distracted her. The ball, hard as a rock, hit her on the side of
the head.

Marcail's hand came to her temple and both boys
froze. Marcail's eyes slid shut, knowing that any second
her head would begin to throb. A few seconds passed, and Marcail opened her eyes. The boys had come up
without her hearing, and Marcail tried to smile.

"I'm sorry," Jess said softly.

"Me too," Cole added.

She reached and hugged the boys, not wanting them
to know how much her head hurt.

"Let's sit on the porch and talk awhile, shall we?"

Both boys nodded with relief, thinking their aunt was
fine. It was wonderful to sit down, and Marcail was able
to keep her pain private. Not knowing whether she was
hurt badly or not, Marcail saw no need in alarming the
family and upsetting these sweet little boys.

The three were still on the front porch when the men
came back from town. Marcail, feeling a little disoriented, didn't notice them until the boys became very
still.

Quinn and Samuel went into the house after saying
hello, but both Skip and Alex stopped to talk with the
three on the porch. Skip immediately noticed the guilty
looks on his son's faces. Alex wondered at Marcail's
strained smile, but thought he'd have to wait until they
were alone to find out the cause.

"What's up, boys?" Skip spoke gently to his young
sons.

"It was my fault," Cole began.

"But I was the one who hit her," Jess finished for him.

Skip said nothing for a moment. "You hit Aunt Marcail with the ball?" he guessed, since the offending
object was still in Jess's hand. Alex's and Skip's eyes
swung to Marcail simultaneously.

"I'm fine," Marcail nearly stuttered. "It was an accident." She hated the way they were looking at her, and
when Skip suggested they step into the infirmary, Marcail came to her feet so fast she felt dizzy.

"There's no need really," she began to babble, her eyes
wide with apparent panic. "I mean, accidents do happen
and-'

Alex instantly measured up the situation and came to
the rescue. He stepped forward and pulled her into his
arms, effectively cutting off her flow of words. Skip saw
immediately that he and the boys were not needed, so he
ushered his family into the house.

Marcail, still not believing they were going to leave her
alone, held herself stiffly in her husband's arms. His
hands held her gently against his chest, but Marcail was
not comforted. Alex, working at keeping the emotion
from his voice, began to question Marcail.

"Where did the ball hit you?"

"In the head," Marcail answered after only a slight
hesitation.

Alarm slammed through Alex, but again he hid his
emotion. He moved gently until he was grasping Marcail
by the upper arms in an attempt to look into her eyes.

"How long ago did this happen, Marcail?"

I don't know," she said softly.

"Was it right after we left?"

"No, not that long."

"Show me where the ball hit."

Marcail reached for the spot above her left ear. Alex's
hand followed hers and found a huge knot. His finger
probed gently, but careful as he was, Marcail moved
from his touch. Alex stood silent a moment, mentally
debating his next move. Had this been any of his other
loved ones, he would have ordered instead of asked, but
with Marcail he chose to tread lightly.

"Are you going to panic if I suggest you lie down for a
while?"

The thought sounded heavenly to Marcail, but she
was worried about the boys' reaction. "I don't want to frighten Jess or Cole, or make them feel any worse than
they already do."

"I'll handle the family." Alex was more relieved than
his voice portrayed. "You stay right here, and I'll be back
in a few minutes."

Marcail sank down on the porch steps as soon as he
left and tried to pray. She'd put such store in this weekend; not just the break from teaching, but also the chance
to get to know Alex and his family better.

Marcail's attempt at prayer was interrupted when Alex
appeared beside her. He stooped, hooked an arm beneath her knees and one behind her back, and lifted her
high against his chest.

"Oh, Alex," Marcail gasped. "That makes me dizzy."

"Just close your eyes," he told her calmly, and surprisingly Marcail complied, letting her head rest against
his shoulder.

With her eyes closed, Marcail was unaware of the
hands holding the door open for their entrance, or the
compassionate, concerned adult eyes that watched as
Alex bore his wife through the living room and up the
stairs.

Marcail was not able to keep track of their progress as
they moved though the house. She knew when Alex sat
her on the edge of the bed, and that he was unbuttoning
the back of her dress, but when her nightgown dropped
over her head, she was taken totally off guard. Even so,
that she was too tired to question or fight him.

She watched with eyes that hurt as he hung her dress
on the back of the door. His hands were gentle as she was
tucked beneath the covers, and the pillow felt as soft as a
cloud to her throbbing head. She was going to thank him
for something, but at the moment the thought eluded
her as sleep swiftly crowded in.

Marcail woke to the calling of her name. Her foggy
brain told her someone was being very insistent. Since
she didn't like the cold washcloth that was rudely calling
her from slumber, she forced her eyes open and focused
on Alex, who seemed to be engrossed with her face.

"I thought you were going to let me sleep for a few
minutes?" Her voice was husky.

"I did." Alex's voice sounded hushed in the still room.
"You've been asleep for nearly two hours."

Marcail was silent as she digested this. She heard
sounds from downstairs, and at the same time her nose
detected a wonderful smell.

"How does your head feel?"

"I'm hungry," Marcail told him.

"Well, that's a good sign. I'll bring you something."

"No. I'll come down."

Alex nodded after a brief hesitation. "All right." He
rose from his place on the edge of the bed and retrieved
Marcail's dress from the hook.

Marcail lay still as he placed it over the footboard. "I'll
wait for you in the hall. Call if you need me."

Marcail thought it was a little silly of him to stand in
the hall and wait for her, but that was before she threw the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
The room took a moment to right itself, and Marcail wondered if her injury was more serious than she realized.

Then a sudden thought occurred to her, and she knew
in an instant it was correct. Alex was far more worried
than he was letting her know. For her sake he was downplaying his reaction. The idea moved her to the brink of
tears. She had not expected anyone outside her own
family to be so understanding about her fears, and especially not a doctor, but Alex was proving otherwise.

"Marcail?" Alex called from beyond the door, making
her realize how much time she was taking.

"I'll be right out."

The door did open soon after that, but Marcail didn't
come into the hall. She looked a bit hesitant, and then
did something she never expected to do.

"Alex, will you button me?"

To his credit, Alex responded as though the question
was as everyday as breathing.

"Oh, sure."

On these simple words he stepped behind her. Within
seconds they were headed down the hall. At the top of
the stairs, Marcail hesitated.

"I didn't brush my hair or put on my shoes."

"Your hair is lovely," Alex said as he took her hand.
'And since we don't stand on ceremony around here,
you don't need your shoes unless your feet are cold."

Marcail wondered at the lovely feeling that spiraled
through her over his words, and the way his long fingers
curled around her own.

Supper was another uproarious affair, and even though
Marcail's head ached, she loved it. It reminded her of meals with Rigg's family. After the dishes had been
cleared, the group converged on Helen's' room for a
game of Sticks.

Marcail was unfamiliar with the game, but she learned
that it was something of a family tradition with the
Montgomerys. She also learned the reason it was new to
her: Helen had invented Sticks herself. The family had
been playing it for years.

The game consisted of bodies draped all around the
room, the more the better, a huge stack of cards with
questions or commands printed on each, and dozens of
small wooden sticks. Marcail was rather lost at first, until
someone explained that the person with the most sticks
at the end of the game was the winner.

Helen was in her element as she handled the cards.
The questions ranged from easy for the children to outrageous for the adults. The cards that resulted in the most
fun were those with commands. The players laughed
until they cried when Skip had to stand on his head and
say the pledge of allegiance, but everyone had to forfeit a
stick when he did so without laughing. At times it seemed
that Helen made up the rules as she went along, but she
was always fair.

As the evening neared an end, Skip, Alex, and Hannah
had the majority of the sticks. Marcail, whose head still
ached a bit, was beginning to tire when Helen called her
name as the next turn.

'All right, Marcail," Helen said with a determined
look in her eye, "sing us a song in a foreign language."

"Oh, Mother," and "Oh, Grandma," were the sounds
around the room. Marcail looked surprised at everyone's
reaction until Susan spoke.

"That's mother's favorite question, Marcail. She's been
asking it for years, and no one has ever done it."

Marcail's face was neither mischievous nor triumphant. The look she gave her mother-in-law was tender
as she began to sing a Hawaiian lullaby she'd learned in
the Islands. Her voice was high and pure and sweet, and
the room was utterly still even after she was finished.

The room remained silent as Skip, Alex, and Hannah
stood and gave all their sticks to the newest member of
the family. Marcail's eyes filled with tears over such a
lovely display of love and acceptance.

The room's silence was shattered as each family member erupted with questions. Alex found himself thanking
God that he'd found out that morning where his wife
had been born. He stayed quiet while the family questioned her and learned quite a bit about where she'd
grown up. Some 20 minutes later Alex noticed her fatigue but wasn't sure how to get her out of the room
without embarrassment. Thankfully his father noticed
also.