Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (30 page)

"I realize that."

Again silence fell.

"You said you bruise easily." Alex spoke and let the
sentence hang.

"Yes."

"Have you seen your back?" Alex wanted to know.

"No."

Alex digested these monosyllabic answers for a moment
and then knew it was time for some gut-level honesty.

"I'm learning the hard way that I can't assume anything with you, Marcail. So I'm going to ask you some
specific questions, and I expect honest answers." Alex
paused a moment with her hair, but Marcail didn't reply.

"Does your back hurt?" The question had an obvious
answer to his mind, but he needed to start somewhere.

"Yes."

"How much?"

Here Marcail hesitated. "Quite a bit," she finally
returned.

"You say it happened at the school-was it on your
way home?"

"Yes."

"Down the steps?"

"Yes."

"How did you fall?"

"I can't tell you that."

This answer was the last thing Alex expected, and he
stopped brushing again.

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Because I'm too weary to fight you if you overreact."

Alex thought this statement was as cryptic as they
came, but after a moment's thought, a horrifying idea
came to mind.

"Marcail, did someone push you?"

"Not exactly."

Again Alex felt completely in the dark, and suddenly
very discouraged. He'd begun to think that he knew this
woman, that they were slowly becoming one, but she
was as closed to him right now as she'd been before they
wed.

Alex picked up the lantern and took it with him as he
moved to the other side of the sofa. There was not as
much room there, but Marcail shifted back slightly so
Alex could sit in front of her.

The lantern light flickered across her eyes, eyes that
had lost hope. Alex had never seen Marcail like this; it
frightened him.

"Talk to me, Marcail," he pleaded with her softly. "Let
me help you. I won't do anything you don't want me to
do, but please don't shut me out when I care so much."
Alex reached for one of her hands and held it between
his own.

Marcail, in a fog of pain and anger, saw for the first
time how difficult this must be for Alex. The look of
concern she saw on his face was like a sudden lifeline.
Prompted by his gentle touch and tender eyes, Marcail
began to speak.

"I've gone over it and over it in my mind, and I can
only figure that he saw us kissing."

"Who saw us kissing?"

"Sydney. He was at school so early yesterday morning. I didn't even hear him arrive. He's infatuated with
me, you know, and it must have upset him to see you kiss
me goodbye. He was quiet all day, and that always scares
me, but I never dreamed he would-"

Marcail halted, and Alex urged her to go on. She
pointed toward the string she had placed on the sofa
table and Alex reached for it. Marcail spoke when it was
in her hands.

"This was tied across the top step when I left the
schoolhouse yesterday."

Alex could only stare at the heavy string, stunned beyond belief. He desperately wanted to hold her, but
knew it would only give her pain.

"He's been my mission field since I arrived, Alex. I
mean, I love the other children, but I felt so strongly that
God wanted me to reach out to Sydney and that he
needed me."

"Shhh," Alex spoke as he stroked her hand. "Don't
try to understand it all now. We'll have plenty of time to
pray and figure out what to do when you feel better."

"I don't think I could pray anyway. I want to, but the
hurt-it's so bad..."

Alex quieted her again and helped her to stand. It
didn't seem to register with her that he was taking her
into the bedroom. He helped her carefully onto her good
side in bed and covered her with the blankets. He'd lit
the bedroom lantern and turned it low. Kneeling down,
he found her staring sightlessly at his chest.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she said, her voice filled with utter
defeat. "It seems that all you do lately is take care of me.
What a disappointment I've turned out to be as a wife."

Alex didn't reply. Nothing could be further from the
truth, but Marcail was in no shape to hear anything right
now. He watched her eyes close and then flutter open
again, this time in fear.

'Are you going somewhere, Alex?"

"No, I'll be right here," he assured her.

Marcail's small hand came out of the covers and touched
his chest. He felt her grip the fabric of his shirt and say
softly as her eyes closed in sleep, "I hope the bell doesn't
ring again tonight."

Long after Marcail slept, Alex sat in the kitchen struggling with his anger. The look on Sydney's face earlier
that day was now easy to identify-it was guilt. Even at
the very obvious evidence of his crime, Alex was not
angry at Sydney but at his grandmother, and not just
angry-livid.

He tended to be overprotective where Marcail was
concerned, but this, this was an outrage! Because of the
selfish, blind foolishness of an old woman, a little boy
was being raised to think he could do anything that came
into his head.

A sudden image from months ago, before he and
Marcail were even friends, came to mind. He remembered
one of the Austin girls telling him that Miss Donovan
had not been feeling well so school had been dismissed
early. Alex had stopped to check on her, wondering as he
did about the scratch on her face. He now knew exactly
who had caused that scratch.

The recollection did not help Alex's mood. He found
his anger kindled anew at the very thought. However,
just as suddenly as Alex's anger flamed back to life, it
died. He sat very still when he realized he was being
swept away by his emotions.

Alex reached for his Bible, always present on the
kitchen table. He turned to a couple of verses he recalled,
James 1:19,20, and read aloud in the still house. "Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to
hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath; for the wrath of man
worketh not the righteousness of God."

After he read, Alex began to pray. He started by confessing his wrath, and then gave the whole ugly affair to
God. He thanked God that the ringing of the bell had
been for a minor incident and he'd been able to come
right home. As he prayed, Alex realized he was not the
one who should be offended, but that sins had been
committed against God.

He also realized that he was going to need to take his
cue from Marcail. She had been afraid of how he would
react, so he figured she must have some idea how she
wanted things handled. It might take some time before
she felt up to it, but as Alex climbed into bed beside his
bruised wife, he determined to learn all he could from
her concerning Sydney Duckworth.

Alex left the house first thing Sunday morning to see
Stanley Flynn. He told him briefly that Marcail had suffered a fall and was not feeling well. He also told him not
to expect her back at school for at least two days, possibly
longer.

As he rode home he realized he might have made her
furious with such a move, but unless he missed his
guess, she was not going to want to do much of anything
for the next 48 hours.

Marcail lay motionless in Alex's soft bed. Usually able to sleep through anything, the closing of the front door,
along with the pain in her back, had startled her awake.
She found herself silently imploring Alex to be coming
in, and not heading out for the day. She rolled, ever so
carefully, onto her back. A moment later Alex appeared
in the doorway.

Marcail's fingers moved on the covers in a semblance
of a wave, and Alex entered. He pulled the curtains back
on both windows before retrieving a chair from the
kitchen and placing it close to the bed. Not until he was
seated and had taken a close look at Marcail's features
did he speak.

"I have quite a few questions I'd like to ask you."
Alex's mind was so set on the accident that he failed to
ask Marcail how she felt.

'About my fall?"

"Not directly. I want to know about Sydney, and how
he behaves in class."

Marcail nodded. "I'm still kind of sleepy, but I'll do my
best."

"It doesn't have to be right now. I went to see Stan
Flynn this morning. I told him you'd fallen, and he
wouldn't be seeing you for at least two days."

Marcail's eyes widened at this, but Alex went on.

"I know you care about your class, Marc, but you can
barely walk." Alex's voice was extremely reasonable.
"You also have to teach for the next three months, and I
don't think it's wise to tax yourself when you still have so
many weeks before you're through for the summer."

"I may be through teaching long after the summer,"
Marcail said suddenly, and Alex stared at her. "I've
decided to talk with Cordelia Duckworth, but I want to
wait until school is out and I've had a few weeks off."

Alex could see this had been on her mind and wanted
to show his support of her decision. "I'll go with you." "You don't have to."

Alex's anger flared. Thinking she was still trying to
keep him at arm's length, he retorted in a tight voice,
"Whether you like it or not, Marcail, we are husband and
wife."

Marcail blinked in surprise. "I never said I didn't like
being your wife," she told him quietly.

"No, you haven't said anything, but you still think and
act like a single woman. I'm sorry, Marcail," Alex rose
wearily, thinking how tense all of this was making him.
"I shouldn't have said that." He went on before Marcail
could reply. "Would you like to sleep some more or have
a little something to eat?"

"I'm not very hungry," Marcail told him.

Alex nodded. "I'll leave you to rest then."

Alex did leave her, closing the door on his way out.
Marcail was still awake when he checked on her two
hours later.

""How about some soup?" Alex asked as soon as he
saw that Marcail was awake.

"That sounds good. If you'll give me a few minutes,
I'll come to the table."