The Marriage Cure (7 page)

“There, now
.
It'll pass soon enough
.
Will ye be sick, do ye think?”

“Nay,” h
e gasped
.

He must have looked as terrible as he felt for she narrowed her vision and a sharp worry line divided her forehead in half.

“Do ye need to lay back down, Johnny?”

That was the last thing he wanted to do and he shook his head.

“No
.
I'll do in time
.
I want to move to the chair.”

Until she wiped his face with a rag, he had not realized he sweated from the effort.

“Ye're whiter than milk,
” Sabetha said, her tone both kind and scolding. “How do ye feel?”

“Weak and dizzy
.” H
e was honest. “But I want to sit up a bit
.
It's but two steps to the rocking chair.”

“Ye're sure?” She was not going to argue and that pleased him.

“I am.”

Her sigh heaved hard enough that he could feel the exhalation.

“Are ye ready then?”

“Aye.” He hoped he was for he felt he might faint.

She stood up first, her right arm still bracing his waist and used her left hand to pull him up
.
“Stand up then
.
It's one step, then two, and ye're there.”

He collapsed into the rocker, eyes blinded with brightness again, panting as if he ran a mile
.
The chair shifted, rocking back and forth, enough to cause a surge of dizziness
.
This time, he would faint, he thought, but she pushed his head down.

“
Amadon,
”
Sabetha said but her voice was tender
.
“Raise yer head up slow when ye can.”

When he could and did, he gripped the arms of the rocker for support
.
Sitting up in a chair felt strange, very odd as if he had never done this before but stronger, he felt he won a victory
.
Once he caught his breath and the dizziness vanished, she brought him sassafras tea.

He sipped it, glad for the warm, strong drink to spread through his body and sighed, happy.

“Ye're all right, then?” s
he asked.

“Aye, I am.”
Now that he managed the feat, he felt cocky and far more confident
.
She put a hand on his shoulder, and then surprised him by cupping her hand to his cheek.

“That's grand,
” Sabetha said, smiling
.
“I'd never want ye to relapse.”

He spent two hours sitting up, loving every moment, but fatigue set in, growing heavy as an unwanted blanket and even he knew he should go back to bed
.
He had less trouble with the three steps back, however, and managed to lie down using his own power
.
By then, Johnny was so tired that he wanted to do nothing more than stretch out and close his eyes so he did as she whispered,

“Sleep then,
mo chroi.
”

He woke ravenous, devouring fried rabbit and fried ‘taters with onions
.
Johnny finished with a cup of milk with cornbread crumbled into it, eating it with a spoon as Sabetha watched
.
Then he insisted on rising again, sitting in the chair for another hour
.
Although getting there remained strenuous, it was easier than the first time
.
He hoped soon to be able to go outside, to feel the wind in his face, to breathe fresh air and told her so.

“Soon,
” Sabetha promised. “Ye mustn't run afor
e ye can walk, Johnny.”

“Aye, but I can try,” h
e said, somnolent and satisfied
.

“Don't,” s
he said. “Do ye know the song,
Maidrin Ruadh
?”

“About the fox?”
He loved the familiar old song, sung by his father when he bounced him on his knee
.
“Aye, I know it well.”

“W
on't ye sing it with me, then?”

So Johnny Devaney, who thought all music had been leached from his soul by tragedy, erased by bitterness, sang with Sabetha, sang the words about the feisty little fox
with the fine fat goose until she broke off, laughing
.
A month ago, he would have said he would never sing again but here he was, singing with a beautiful
woman,
and alive after a terrible fever that would have killed most men
.
It was more than he ever hoped to have again and for the moment, too much to contemplate so he feigned fatigue and let her put him to bed where he could think.

Although his itchy rash was almost gone, she rubbed soft wool wax over it again, her hands rubbing the creamy substance into his skin, marvelous, but he could not think deep thoughts now, could think nothing but how good her touch felt upon his skin
.
He was almost asleep by the time she finished, barely alert when she slipped into bed beside him but he was aware of her presence, reassured by it.

****

Sabetha Mahoney Trahern

She watched him sleep; marveling at how much better he was now, compared to the worst hours of his illness
.
More than anything, she wanted to see him smile but he had not yet
.
The good humor he often displayed, the sharp wit delighted her for Henry was humorless, unwilling to joke or laugh as unlike her father as day from night
.
The flashes of good
craic
Johnny demonstrated made her see the man he was, before, and God willing could be again, a light-hearted man with inner strength, a man of courage.

His hunger pleased her; it was a sign he would get well
.
He devoured the small game and fish she brought but he should have more
.
Sabetha thought about sacrificing one of her chickens to the cook pot but they all were good layers and she hated to lose one
.
A fat turkey would be nicer, she mused, remembering where in her foraging she saw turkeys
.
They roosted in the top of a great walnut tree at the top of the ridge above her valley
.
Setting snares would take too long so in the morning, she vowed she would take down Sweet Betsy, the old flintlock rifle her Da put into her hands when she left
Kentucky,
and shoot a turkey.

Although the old gun was taller than she was, a full six feet long, and heavy, Sabetha could shoot it well
.
Da taught her along with the
boys,
although it had been some time since she used it
.
Both shot and powder were in short supply but there would be enough to go hunting at dawn.

Before she left in the faint milk light, Sabetha poured two thimbles full of black powder into Sweet Betsy's muzzle, added a square of cloth, and then the lead ball
.
She forced it all down with the ramrod, packing it tight
.
She would have one shot on the ridge, after she primed the pan but it should be enough
.
With enough powder in hand, she crept from the cabin on bare feet, closing the door behind her without a sound
.
God willing, she would be back, bird in hand, long before Johnny awoke.

Johnny Devaney

He awakened with slow pleasure, savoring the comfort of the bed beneath him, the pillow under his head, and the heady feel of returning strength
.
He would get out of bed again today, maybe venture outside if he could coax Sabetha that it would do him no harm
.
By the time he opened his eyes fully, sunshine streamed through the chinks in the cabin wall and he realized it was very quiet, no sound in the cabin save the whisper of the fire
.
Wherever she was, it would not be far, he thought, and contemplated maneuvering into the rocker unaided
.
That would surprise her and show her that he was stronger, well enough to go outdoors.

Just as he began to wiggle toward sitting up, the first step toward rising, he heard the unmistakable roar of a musket
.
He glanced above the fireplace, above the mantle shelf where an ancient flintlock rifle hung and found it gone
.
She was hunting, then, he thought and if she were as capable with the rifle as with all else, she would be fine
.
Few women he knew could handle a gun or shoot but if any woman could, it would be Sabetha.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, prepared this time for the rush of wooziness that came and had just put his feet to the floor when he heard a scream
.
No
bean sidhe
could have screeched louder, he thought, heart pounding
.
With no other woman near, it was Sabetha
.
Without thought, he paddled across the floor, snatching up his knife from the mantle where it lay next to his clean, folded buckskins and stepped outside.

Johnny stopped, his breath ragged and knees shaking so hard he could barely stand
.
The shift from the dim cabin to the bright light of day dazzled him, disconcerted him even more than his weakness
.
All the wee buds and tiny leaves just bursting out when he last set foot on solid earth had exploded into a green tangle that overwhelmed him
.
He could not admire the greenery, though, not when she needed help.

“Sabetha!” h
e shouted. “
Caw duit
?”

She did not answer but he thought, head swimming, legs trembling, that he might faint before he could find her
.
He backed up so that he leaned against the cabin wall and tried to put his head down enough to slow the swirling brilliance that threatened to suck him under
.
He could feel his heart banging like a drum at a
ceildh
and the shirt he wore felt damp with sweat.

He shut his eyes, willed himself not to lose consciousness
.
When he heard footfalls in the leaves, he opened them
.
Sabetha walked out of the woods, her dress dirty down one side, with the huge rifle on one arm, a large turkey in the other
.
She beamed, proud of her prize, whole, and sound, not hurt or in danger at all
.
Tears burned his eyes at the reprieve but then anger, righteous rage, took its' place.

“
Bean,
why did ye scream like a
bean sidhe
? Ye dragged me from my sickbed, thinking that ye were hurt or dying
.
Have ye no care? Are ye mad?
Ye scared me, woman.”

He ranted at her, venting the fear that gripped him
.
Her grin faded and he thought for a moment she would rage at him but instead, she smiled.

“Ah, Johnny, I fell down the hill, ‘tis all and it startled me
.
I didn't know ye would hear me but no harm done, just mud on my dress
.
Ye are the one who is mad, barely out of a fever, chasing out the door with knife in hand
.
If I'd not come back now, ye'd be lying in the woods yerself.”

She had a point, he thought but his desire to save her from danger outweighed his common sense
.
He would not be able to stand much longer and now a headache pounded
, familiar
and frightening
.
He covered his face with both hands, as if that could will the pain out of his head
.
Bright pinpoints of light danced behind his closed eyelids, a sign he would faint soon
.

Sabetha must have put down both the rifle and the bird because she touched his hair, stroked it back with gentle fingers, and felt his forehead above his hands, checking for fever.

Johnny lowered his hands, which trembled, and said, surprising himself.

“Kiss me.”