Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (29 page)

Marcail woke to a feeling of pressure on her hand.
She focused slowly to find Alex kneeling down by the
sofa, holding her hand. Her whole body ached like a bad
tooth, but she didn't say a word.

"I know you like to sleep in on Saturday mornings,"
her husband's voice was soft, "but you were out so hard
when I came home last night, I thought I should wake
you and let you know I'm leaving for work."

"It's Saturday morning?"

"It sure is. You must have stretched out right here after
you got home." Alex's voice was compassionate, and his
fingers stroked down her cheek and then touched the
collar of her dress.

Marcail wanted to sit up, but didn't think she could
manage it. "I'm sorry I didn't get you any supper last
night," she apologized, not really thinking clearly.

"I didn't wake you to make you feel bad. I'm fine, and I
just hope you caught up on some of your rest." Alex
stood then. "I'm off to work. I probably won't be home
for lunch, but I should be done for the day around 2:00.
There's hot coffee on the stove when you get that far."

Marcail said a soft goodbye that Alex attributed to sleepiness just before he kissed her. He didn't notice that
she lay absolutely still as she watched him leave.

"Is it possible to feel worse today?" Marcail asked
herself, as the door closed on her spouse. She had never
taken a severe fall before and didn't know what to expect.
Her skin had always bruised easily, but none of the
bruises were ever the result of a serious accident.

As though her skin had turned into dried leather in
the night, Marcail gingerly moved into a sitting position.
She was careful to keep her back away from the sofa back,
but the bruised side of her bottom and thigh were telling
her to lie back down.

Marcail fought the urge. She pushed herself off the
sofa and stood. It took some minutes to make herself
move again, but Marcail knew that waiting any longer
would not change a thing. Her first step forward told her
it was going to be a long day.

Alex was thrilled to see his last patient leave at 1:30. He
was tired and ready to go home. He cleaned up the
examination area and readied his bag for emergencies.
He was ready to leave when the door opened. Alex
concealed his disappointment over being kept longer in
town and went out to the waiting room. To his surprise
he found Sydney Duckworth waiting for him.

"Hello, Sydney," Alex said carefully, looking past him
once or twice to see if his grandmother was going to
follow him through the door.

"Hello, Dr. Montgomery. Is Mrs. Montgomery here?"

Not until Sydney asked the question did Alex really
look at the boy. His eyes were scared, his features even
more pinched than usual.

"Is there something I can help you with, Sydney?" Alex offered kindly, thinking the boy seemed very
upset.

"No, no," Sydney spoke as he backed toward the
door. "I just thought maybe Mrs. Montgomery had come
with you, and I would say hi."

"I'm sorry, Sydney," Alex smiled gently, knowing the
boy was half in love with his wife. "I don't believe she
planned to come into town today. Maybe you'll have a
chance to talk with her at church tomorrow."

The words seemed to put the boy at ease, and Alex
stood for a time after he'd left, trying to put his finger on
what had been wrong. No answers came, and Alex,
always ready to see his wife, put Sydney out of his mind
and hurried toward the livery.

Wishing she'd gotten more done, Marcail looked despairingly around the house. The laundry was washed and
hung out, but no baking had been done and supper wasn't
even a thought in her mind. The day had passed in a
painful fog, and Marcail had fought going back to bed
every minute. She stared in surprise when Alex walked
in the door, never dreaming it was that late in the day.

"Hello," he greeted her. "Did I startle you?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I just didn't realize the
time." Marcail took a breath and kept talking, believing
that she owed Alex an explanation.

'Alex, I'm sorry I didn't get much done today, but the
truth is, I took a fall down the schoolhouse stairs yesterday, and it's made me kind of stiff and lazy."

"You fell down the stairs?" Alex's voice showed his
concern, but since Marcail was so fearful of doctors, he
told himself to move slowly and not press her. 'Are you
all right, Marcail?"

"I bruise easily, but I'm sure I'll be fine." Marcail's
voice was as even as ever, and Alex, truly believing that
by now she would be comfortable enough to tell him if
she were really hurt, took her at her word. He took in her
composed features and nodded with satisfaction. He
also decided to put her mind at ease about the household
chores, so he got out the bowl to mix bread dough.

"I really should be doing that," Marcail said from
behind him.

"Not if you don't feel well," Alex said reasonably.
'Anyway, I've always enjoyed baking. Oh, by the way,
Sydney stopped in to say hello. I think he wanted to talk
with you about something. I told him he'd probably see
you tomorrow at church, and he seemed satisfied with
that."

Alex had his back to Marcail and completely missed
the look of misery that crossed his wife's face. Marcail
did help Alex finish the baking, and if her movements
were a little slower than normal, he didn't seem to notice.

Alex fixed supper after he'd done some odd jobs outside. They were just finishing when the bell rang, summoning the doctor's services in town. Alex, usually very
pragmatic about his work, looked a bit let down. Marcail
was secretly pleased because he was usually gone for at
least two hours, and she'd been hoping for some privacy
for her evening bath. She knew it was going to cost her
to prepare the tub, but the soak was going to be worth
it.

Ignoring the dishes, Marcail shuffled around preparing her bath the moment Kelsey galloped out of the yard.
As Marcail had suspected, it took great effort to drag the
tub out and fill it, but as she sank into the water, she had
her first relief in 24 hours.

Sparing her right side as much as possible, Marcail
soaped up and washed her hair. It was impossible to maneuver the rinse bucket with only one hand, and
Marcail moaned as she was forced to lift her right arm
above her head, taxing her bruised shoulder to the limits.

The job done, she sat back in the tub and tried to catch
her breath. She found she was trembling all over again,
but having her hair and body clean had been worth it.

It was a tremendous effort to leave the tub and dry off,
but again Marcail moved slowly and got through it. She
stood, nightgown in hand for some minutes, knowing
that to lift it over her head was going to hurt. Holding the
garment in front of her and feeling the cold of the room,
she knew how warm she would be if she could just make
the effort, but still she stood rooted.

Feeling weary in body and spirit, she would have
continued to stand still, but the door opened quietly
behind her. Marcail, wrapped in her own little world of
pain and disillusionment, never heard the door's movement. As it was, only seconds passed before she heard
Alex's horrified call. Forgetting for the moment the pain
in her body, she turned to find him coming toward her,
looking every inch the doctor she knew him to be.

Marcail backed into the living room away from Alex
until his hands on her upper arms brought her to a gentle
stop. She was holding the nightgown to the front of her,
as though it were a suit of armor.

Alex looked into her terrified eyes, knowing he had to
do something that would probably destroy all the trust
she'd come to have in him.

"Marcail," he spoke softly. "I have to check your
back."

Marcail shook her head and opened her mouth, but no
sound came out.

"I can tell," he went on in that same gentle voice,
"even from across the room, that your bruises are serious.
I have to check them."

"I told you I've always bruised easily," Marcail finally
blurted out, sounding as breathless and terrified as she
really was.

Alex's heart broke, but there was no way he was going
to ignore the coal-black bruises and scrapes he'd seen on
the back of her body.

With gentle insistency, his hands still holding her
upper arms, he drew her back toward the kitchen where
the lantern burned bright on the table. He turned her carefully toward the light, nearly changing his mind
when he felt the violent trembling of her entire body.

Alex did not rush his examination, and had Marcail
been capable of thinking clearly, she would have realized
that his manner was completely professional. She felt his
hand on her shoulder blade, the skin of her bottom, and
the back of her thigh. It felt like forever, when in fact only
a minute had passed before he was turning her so that
her bare back was once again shielded from his eyes.

The light bounced off of the tears standing in her eyes,
and Alex turned without leaving the room. He spoke
over his shoulder.

"Put on your nightgown, Marcail." His voice sounded
sad, but nothing registered with Marcail beyond her
pain and humiliation.

She scrambled into the long, warm gown, and without
a word, moved stiffly into the dark living room to sit on
the sofa. Following with the lantern, Alex found her
sitting sideways, protecting her back he was sure. She
didn't change position to look at him as he placed the
lantern on the table behind Marcail's turned back. He
lowered himself to sit next to her.

Looking at his wife's stiff back covered by her still-wet
hair, Alex was at a complete loss for words. Helplessly,
he glanced around and spotted her hairbrush on the
table where he'd set the lantern. He picked it up and
began to draw it through her hair.

Moments passed in silence.

"You don't have to do that," Marcail said, her voice as
flat and distant as when they'd first met.