Dream Weaver (11 page)

He gave her a strange look, part puzzlement, part indignation. "In all my years of practice, I've found that blood-letting is an effective means of reducing fever. I've always had satisfactory results."

Gwen stared at him. "You're serious! You're really going to use that thing."

"Of course I'm serious. My dear Miss Emrys, pray don't tell me how to practice medicine." He gave her a steady look. "And in case you're worried about infection from the lancet, I soaked it in vinegar. Very few doctors do that."

"Well, can't you try something else? Like an ice-water bath?"

"Ice-water, at this time of the year? Besides, you already sponged her, didn't you? And sponging is an effective remedy we must continue."

"And no Tylenol," she muttered.

"No what?"

"Never mind." She sprang from the chair. "Well, I never could stand the sight of blood, so I'm leaving."

"No one asked you to stay," Christian replied before she had a chance to disappear from the room.

Later in the night, Christian entered Byrony's room and set a cup on the table next to the bed. In a bedside chair, Gwen looked up at him, catching his worried look by the dim candle- light.

"Here," he said, "willow bark tea. When it cools a little, get her to drink as much as possible. We'll take turns sponging her and giving her the tea. I intend to see Rebecca now, see how she is and let her know how Byrony fares." He turned to head for the door.

"Christian--" Gwen called before he stepped out of the room. "How soon do you think Bryony will recover?"

He leaned against the doorway, pressing his hand to the opposite doorframe. "I fear it may be a while. Gwen, I'm doing everything I can...with your help," he said with a tired smile. "The important thing is to reduce her fever. Despite your doubts, I think the bleeding accomplished that. After her temperature returns to normal, recovery should be only a matter of time. Still, it will be more than a week or two before she's better."

For fear of contagion, Christian decided Robert would share Rebecca's bed, since Daniel remained away, and this simplified sleeping arrangements. One less worry, Gwen thought, praying that Robert hadn't already caught the bug.

She dipped a cloth in a basin of cold water and wrung it out, then sponged the sleeping child's forehead, neck, and arms, Bryony's body still hot and dry. She looked about the small, neat room with its one small window, tall clothes chest, and double bed. Her gaze drifted to a large toy chest in a corner, filled to overflowing with dolls, blocks, balls, and other toys. Would Bryony ever be well enough to play again? What if she never--? She shook her head. Don't even think about it.

On a warm afternoon of the following week, Christian looked up from the kitchen table as Gwen entered the room. His mouth went dry while a myriad of thoughts and emotions rampaged through his brain, every one centered on this lovely woman. For a brief moment, he turned away, lest she see his inner turmoil.

Collecting his composure, he rose and held a chair for her. "You notice how quiet the house is? Molly took Robert for a walk." He rubbed at the stubble on his cheek, aware of his unkempt appearance. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Gwen motioned for him to sit. "Don't bother. I can get it myself."

"Oh, but--"

"Come on, you've been working hard enough." She sent a smile his way, a smile that only increased his tumult. "I'm not helpless, you know."

"Very well." He observed her slim figure, noting the brisk, graceful movements of her hands as she lifted the tea kettle from the trammel above the wide fireplace and poured the brew into an earthen mug.

Despite her contrariness and oftimes flippant talk, she had an inner grace, a calm self-assurance, as if she could handle any challenge that came her way. He liked that quality, rare in a woman. She wore a dress of tan linsey, which would've looked drab on any other woman, but on Gwen, its soft folds and neat tucks, its gentle sweep from waist to ankles, made it appear as sensuous as the grandest ballgown. The supple material followed the swell of her breasts, revealing the outline of her nipples. Wild fantasies, too long stifled, taunted him. She wore her hair in a soft roll, a laced white gauze cap perched modestly atop her head, but he missed seeing those tawny locks that tumbled down her back and glimmered like fire in the sunlight. His fantasies soaring, he was seized by a sudden desire to tear the pins from her hair and let the locks fall like water through his hands. Aware he'd been staring, he turned away to absently study the barrel of apples in a far corner.

But if she were a spy? He swallowed past the lump in his throat. God, he prayed, don't let it be so. He couldn't bear to see her punished. So far, he hadn't gleaned any evidence from the officers at
Fort
Pitt
, but he intended to keep trying.

Gwen returned to her chair with the mug of steaming tea. "I've been so worried about Bryony." She frowned. "If only she would get better..."

"Her fever has gone down," he said, "and I don't need to tell you that keeping it lowered is a matter of constant care. I believe we're succeeding in this, don't you?"

"So far."

He raised the mug to his mouth and sipped. "She seemed a bit cooler this morning, and her pulse has slowed. In truth, she appears to be on the mend." He gave her a frank look across the table. "'Twas not Bryony I wanted to speak about."

"Oh?"

"This Noah Enfield...," he began.

"A casual acquaintance. I've talked to him a few times since he came to see Daniel about legal business."

"I believe he cares for you. I saw him with you at the frolic--"

She smiled. "He needs a wife. I just happen to be handy."

"More than that, I think."

"Has he said anything to you?" She sipped her tea, looking at him over the rim of the mug.

"He's said naught to me. Anyway, I'd not betray a confidence." He set his elbows on the table and gave her a level look. "He's not the man for you."

"What's it to you?" she asked, a trace of annoyance in her voice. "Why should you care whom I marry?"

"Don't misunderstand me. Noah is a fine man, a good farmer. I'm not denigrating him. But you are so--so--different, I should say, for lack of a better word. 'Twould be a terrible waste if you married a man who couldn't make you happy."

She leaned forward, palms flat on the table. "You didn't answer my question. Why should you care?"

Yes, why? Because I'd miss your smile, your laughter, he wanted to say, that make every minute with you fresh and different, something to look forward to. I'd miss seeing those pretty freckles that dot your face, the sparkle in your eyes, your soft, warm body that tempts me to take you in my arms and make love to you. He kept his thoughts to himself. "I want only your happiness."

* * *

Thank God Bryony has recovered, Gwen mused. She couldn't go through that worry again. From her upstairs window, she watched Bryony one bright morning a week later as the child ran among the rows of corn, playing hide and seek with Robert. Tears slid down Gwen's cheeks. God, it was good to see her well again.

She turned away from the window and headed for the doorway, thinking of all the things she wanted to do; she should definitely make plans for teaching the neighborhood children. And Christian? Now that Bryony was her normal playful self again, she guessed she wouldn't see him again for a long time. Pausing at the entrance, she gripped the doorknob. She wouldn't even think about him.

Chapter Seven

Darned if I don't look like Cinderella, Gwen thought, brushing a leaf from her faded tan linsey dress with its mended spots and frayed hem. Kneeling on the warm earth, she worked in Rebecca's flower garden, her agile fingers tugging at weeds while she checked the leaves for insects. The garden was a rich tapestry of color, where the towering red spikes of the lupines, the fragrant carnations, the dainty white petunias and so many other flowers blossomed in companiable profusion. She drew in a deep breath, sniffing the heliotrope with its unique scent of vanilla.

When she got back to her own time...she lowered her head, swallowing a lump in her throat. Quickly straightening back up, she finished her thought. If she ever got back to her own time, she wanted a garden just like this one.

A slight headache nagged her, prompting her to think of other things, her usual remedy for curing her rare headaches.

"Gwen--"

She looked up to see Rebecca approach along the path.

"You've been working in the garden for a long time, and I do appreciate it," Rebecca said, stopping beside her. "But 'tis about time for the midday meal."

"Already?" Gwen asked in surprise. She stood and brushed off the front and back of her dress. She wasn't hungry, and her stomach felt a little woozy, too.

"Did I tell you Daniel brought back a goodly amount of hornbooks and primers from
Philadelphia
, along with sundry writing materials?" Rebecca smiled. "So you'll have all the necessaries whenever you begin teaching the children."

"Good, I can't wait to get started." She closed her eyes for a moment, her head throbbing. She opened them again, the sun a painful shaft of light that prompted her to shade her eyes. "I hope to visit as many families as possible this afternoon, see how many parents want their children to attend school."

"Most of them will want that, I should imagine." Rebecca tapped her arm. "But first come and eat, or you won't feel much like visiting."

Gwen placed her hand on her stomach. I don't even feel much like eating now, she wanted to say.

* * *

After a light lunch of rye bread and applesauce, Gwen headed for her room and sank onto the bed. Lying back, she closed her eyes, a long time passing before she forced herself to sit up and step into her moccasins. Wow! How could just slipping shoes on wear her out? Maybe she'd lie down and rest, visit the families another day. Her head pounded, thirst plaguing her dry, achy throat. If she could only rise, she'd scoop up some water from the basin...

She tried to get up, but the effort only worsened her condition, dizziness now added to her list of ailments. Her arms and legs ached; all she wanted was to stay in bed.

She started to doze, but a ringing in her ears awoke her. Straining, she turned onto her side, and sleepiness dragged her down.

She forced her eyes open, the bright sunlight from the open window making her squint. She raised her arm to cover her eyes, her head still pounding. On the edge of her vision, she saw Rebecca beside her.

"You've been in bed for hours," Rebecca said. "You must have slept poorly last night. Did you not want to see the other families about schooling for the children?"

"I...I...," Gwen moaned, pressing her hand to her pounding head. Her body was on fire, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. "I feel sick," she whispered.
 

Rebecca clenched her hands together, a look of absolute fear on her face. "Oh, my God, no!" She headed for the door, calling behind her, "I'll send Daniel to get Christian."

Christian's already been here, Gwen wanted to say, but fell asleep again before she could open her mouth.

* * *

Semi-darkness covered the room, a stillness in the air. Caressing fingers brushed wet hair from Gwen's damp forehead as strong yet gentle hands sponged her face and neck. A man spoke soothingly, as one would speak to a child, then held a cup to her mouth. In feverish recognition, she looked up to see Christian in her room. She gave him a grateful glance, so happy to see him, to have him with her.

"I made you willow bark tea, the same brew that helped make Bryony well. Try to drink it, if only a small amount."