The Widow and the Wastrel (16 page)

There was no sign of Amy in the kitchen. Freda read the question forming in Elizabeth's eyes and answered, "Amy's outside playing with the puppies."

"I'm—" Elizabeth ran a hand nervously through the side of her hair, the black locks curling about her fingers, "I'm sorry we've put you to so much trouble, Freda."

"It isn't any trouble," the dark blonde assured her, setting a mug of coffee on the table for each of them. "Jed has been like a second brother to Kurt and me ever since I can remember. My mother swore that he spent more time at our place than he ever did at home, but I don't think his parents knew that."

"Yes, well," Elizabeth sighed heavily, "I'm afraid he'll be here for a few more days. Doctor Miles didn't think it was a good idea to move him, at least for the time being. Jed didn't seem anxious to leave either."

"Nor would anyone if they were ill," Freda defended him gently.

"Still, I wish—" Elizabeth glanced toward the hallway and the hidden bedroom door, but she couldn't put into words the compelling need to be the one who took care of him. "It's such an inconvenience for you," she murmured instead.

"Elizabeth—" Freda began, then hesitated, giving undue interest to the coffee in her mug. "If you would like to stay and lend a hand, I would appreciate it. I mean, I do have the house to take care of and the meals to cook for Kurt and there's a lot of work in the garden to be done. You could sleep in the spare room unless you'd rather not."

"Are you sure you wouldn't object?" Elizabeth held her breath, wanting to stay with Jed more than anything.

"It would be a tremendous help," Fred promised.

"I would like to stay." Elizabeth's smile was genuine this time, a mixture of happiness and relief.

"The spare room has twin beds. There's no reason Amy can't stay, too. I know your mother-in-law," Freda seemed to choose her words carefully, "is quite busy with her meetings and all. It would save you from having to find a sitter and constantly rushing back and forth between our two places. And she isn't any trouble."

"Oh, Freda, are you sure you want us Carrels to invade you this way?" Elizabeth laughed.

"I'm sure," Freda nodded with a beaming smile. "As soon as Kurt comes back in from the field at noon, I'll have him drive you over to the house to get your things. It's a perfect arrangement."

The only one who disapproved of the arrangement was Rebecca. It was her opinion that if Jed was ill enough to require Elizabeth's attention, he was ill enought to be in hospital. For once, Elizabeth didn't allow herself to be talked out of her plans, not even when her mother-in-law insisted that Amy should remain at home with her. The tiny wedge that had been driven between them since Jed's arrival had placed a severe strain on the relationship between the two women. Elizabeth found that she didn't look up to her mother-in-law as much as she once had. In fact there were several things about her that she didn't like.

Amy was delighted at the prospect of possibly spending several days on the Reisner farm. She was genuinely concerned that her uncle was ill, but it didn't diminish her delight. The farm was a new world to her, an exciting world that she was determined to explore.

When Kurt had heard his sister's suggestion, he immediately added his second to the invitation, adding that he knew Freda would enjoy the company of someone her own age. And Elizabeth discovered how very warm and friendly her neighbors truly were. She felt ashamed that she hadn't followed her instinct and got to know them better before now. But Rebecca had never been in favor of Elizabeth becoming too closely acquainted with them.

Although she could ignore her mother-in-law's disapproval, Jed's displeasure at having her there was not so easy to overlook. Several times during the first day, Elizabeth sat with him. He had been aware that someone was with him, but in his semiconscious state, the identity of the person was of secondary importance to the cooling compress on his fever-flushed face. Not until that evening when she brought him in some chicken broth Freda had prepared did Jed recognize her.

His verbal abuse left her in little doubt that if he had the strength, he would have thrown her out of the house. Elizabeth accepted his sarcasm with forced silence, telling her bleeding heart that it was the result of the fever. She only partially believed it. He didn't want her there and she was a fool to stay, but she did.

There were moments in the succeeding two days when he was completely lucid and others when he succumbed to bouts of delirium, mumbling things that made no sense to Elizabeth. Sometimes she guessed that it had to do with his childhood, but mostly he seemed to refer to the time he had spent in the Pacific and South-east Asia.

Once he had called her name. She had slipped her hand over his, feeling his fingers tighten so she couldn't pull free.

"I'm here, Jed," she had said in an aching whisper of love.

"You shouldn't be," he had murmured huskily, trying to open the fever-weighted lids of his eyes. "Why won't you go away?"

"Sssh, you must rest." Elizabeth had bit into her lip to hold back the sob of despair.

"Leave me alone," Jed had sighed, turning his head away from her on the pillow, but not relinquishing his grip on her hand. Stirring restlessly, he exclaimed with unexpected forcefulness, "It's so damned hot! Doesn't anybody on this damned island own a fan?" And Elizabeth realized he was delirious again.

"He's out of it again, is he?" Kurt's voice had claimed Elizabeth's attention. He was standing in the doorway with Freda, fresh linen in her arms. "I thought I'd give you two girls a hand changing the sheets."

"I'll warn you, Kurt, Jed isn't very co-operative," Elizabeth had cautioned with a sigh, twisting her hand free from Jed.

And he hadn't been co-operative, fighting the hands that removed the sweat-stained sheets from beneath him to replace them with dry, hurling profanities at them indiscriminately. Finally when they had him tucked back in, he had seemed to collapse with exhaustion.

"He's hardly the model patient, is he?" Freda had breathed in deeply.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth had shaken her head wearily as they went out of the room.

"Don't be sorry," Kurt had insisted. "You certainly could never have managed him on your own, and I don't think Mrs. Carrel would have been of much help to you."

Elizabeth had smiled, acknowledging silently the truth of his words. She doubted if she would have been able to manhandle Jed even in his weakened condition. Assistance from her mother-in-law would have been minimal at best. She had a very low tolerance of sick people, making her duty visits as she had done with Jed, but never staying any longer than propriety dictated.

"How about some iced tea on the porch before we turn in?" Kurt had suggested.

"It's a grand idea," Freda had agreed. "There's a pitcher full in the refrigerator. Would you fix a glass for Liza and me?" She had begun using Jed's nickname for Elizabeth. Without the faintly mocking undertones, Elizabeth hadn't objected.

"For my sister, anything," Kurt had agreed laughingly, leaving the two girls to make their own way to the porch.

Leaning against one of the wooden porch-roof supports, Elizabeth had gazed at the evening stars sprinkled over the night sky. "How long do you think it will last, Freda? Doctor Miles said only a few days, but it's already been three days."

"His fever should be breaking soon." Freda had curled on to the porch swing, tucking her legs beneath her. "You love him very much, don't you?"

Elizabeth had swung around, a denial forming on her lips. Then she had sighed. "Yes," she had answered simply.

Freda hadn't offered any words of hope or confided anything that Jed might have said to her or Kurt. If she had, Elizabeth doubted if she would have believed her. She didn't think anyone knew what Jed felt, nor was he the type to let something slip.

There was an invisible clasping of hands between Elizabeth and Freda, cementing the friendship that had been steadily growing each hour they had spent together. Elizabeth had not realized how much she had missed the nonsensical talk with another girl, the exchanging of ideas whether on cooking or clothes or world politics without any attempt to impress the other with their intellectual prowess. If she had gained nothing else, she knew she had acquired a true friend.

Staring at the ceiling above her bed, Elizabeth waited for sleep to steal upon her, but her mind refused to stop reliving the happenings of the past three days. Restlessly, she thumped her pillow to relieve the tension, turning on her side and this time gazing at the sleeping figure of her daughter in the next bed. It was no use, she thought dejectedly. She simply was not going to fall asleep as long as her mind kept racing about with thoughts of Jed.

A quilted housecoat lay at the foot of her bed. Slipping quietly from beneath the covers so as not to disturb Amy, Elizabeth slid her feet into the slippers at her bedside and picked up the housecoat. She would take a couple of minutes to check on Jed, she decided, then warm some milk in the kitchen. Wasn't that the old-fashioned cure-all for insomnia? she smiled at herself.

The yard light streamed through Jed's window, illuminating his tossing and turning figure. The blankets were thrown off, exposing the naked expanse of his bronzed chest. His pajama bottoms looked a paler blue in the dim light as Elizabeth hurried quietly into the room to draw the covers around him again. His skin was burning to the touch. Taking the ever-present cloth from the wash basin, she wiped the streaming perspiration from his unconsciously frowning face.

The fever was peaking. Cradling his head in her arms, Elizabeth pressed the water glass to his dry lips, letting the liquid trickle into his mouth. Directed by instinct, she kept repeating the procedure, first wiping the perspiration away, then giving him small swallows of water. Her heart cried out at her inability to do more to ease his discomfort as he continued to moan and toss. Her arms began to ache, her muscles throbbed with the constant repetition of her actions. She lost all perception of the minutes ticking by. It never once occurred to her to waken Freda.

Elizabeth didn't notice the exact moment when his fever broke. Suddenly she realized the frown had left his face and the restless turnings had ceased. His lean cheeks were still warm but without the fiery heat that had burned her hand. It was over. Jed was actually sleeping. With a trembling sound that was both a sigh and a sob, she collapsed wearily in the rocking chair beside his bed. She would sit here for a few minutes, she told herself, and let her aching muscles relax. It was for certain she wouldn't need any milk now, she decided with a wry smile. That was the last thing she remembered.

The next thing was the shooting pains in her neck. When she tried to move, they travelled down her spine. She frowned in protest, not wanting to move again, but the stiffness of her muscles demanded it. Slowly, unwillingly, Elizabeth opened her eyes, as the awareness of her surroundings gradually sank in and she awoke.

The sun was well up in the sky with no traces of the golden pink of dawn. Jed was sleeping peacefully, the stubble of a three-day beard growth darkening the lean jaw. The sallow look was gone from his face and there was no gleam of perspiration on his forehead. He was all right. A faint smile of relief touched her lips.

Arching her back to flex away the rigidity, Elizabeth began to gently rub the crook in her neck, the painful result of sleeping in the rocking chair the better part of the night. She still felt tired, but there was little point in going to bed at this hour. As she pushed herself out of the chair, her gaze shifted to the bed. Jed was watching her. The glaze of fever was gone, his eyes cat-gold and piercingly thorough in their appraisal.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that chairs weren't made to sleep in?" His mouth quirked cynically at the corners.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, her heart skipping beats, but the bedroom door was opened, effectively silencing her words. Freda stuck her head inside, glancing in surprise at Elizabeth, then to Jed. A smile spread across her face.

"Well, I see you've made it back to the land of reality." Genuine welcome warmed her face. "You must be starving, Jed. I'll bring you a tray."

"Don't bother." He rolled on to his back, his lazily alert gaze releasing Elizabeth to focus on his hostess. "Elizabeth will be out shortly. She can fix it."

The other girl raised a curious eyebrow, looked briefly at Elizabeth's astonished expression, then shrugged her agreement. The closing of the door brought an end to her initial confusion.

"I had planned to shower and change," she told him tartly, resenting his autocratic command that she should wait on him when she had stayed up half the night taking care of him.

The complacent expression on his face didn't vary. "I thought you were enjoying your role as the angel of mercy." With disconcerting ease, Jed switched from mockery. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days."

"Three days?" He rubbed his hand over his chin, his beard scraping the palm. "I hope I didn't bore you with recollections of my lurid past." He smiled ruefully.

"You mumbled too much," Elizabeth replied quietly and honestly, "When we could understand your rambling, it didn't make any sense."

His hooded glance had a measuring look about it, as if he was judging the truthfulness of her answer. She met it squarely without flinching, knowing how she would dislike having the privacy of her thoughts paraded before others without being aware of it.