Johanna: Bride of Michigan (American Mail-Order Bride 26) (11 page)

They hadn’t gone very far when Johanna tripped and landed face-first on the ground with a scream as a stick tore through her dress and puncturing her scar. Despite the rain, she felt the blood gush from the wound. By the time Paul helped her to her feet, she was sobbing at the throbbing pain.
How will I be able to conceal my scar now?

Paul glanced down at her dress and swept her up into his arms, carrying her the remainder of the way to the buggy. He quickly set her inside, and the partial cover on the buggy helped to shelter them from the rain showers. He ripped the sleeve from his shirt and tied it around her leg to staunch the flow of blood.

Slapping the reins much harder than before, the horses raced back to town. He barely stopped the horses when they were back home before helping Johanna down. He again took her into his arms, strutting through the opened door.

“What on earth?” Cecilia exclaimed.

“Now is not the time, Mother.” He sighed. “Sara, I’ll need your help upstairs. Johanna is hurt.”

“Sara is hardly qualified,” Cecilia retorted.

“She’s my lady’s maid and I want her to assist me, unless you want me bleeding all over the floor,” Johanna declared.

Paul carried her up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her door was kicked open and he set her down on the bed. When he moved to help Johanna off with her dress, she shrieked. “Sara can do that.”

“You’re my wife, Johanna,” he reminded her. “And you’re injured. We need to get you out of this drenched dress.”

Tears raced down her face. “But you can’t, you simply can’t!”

Paul wasn’t listening as he stood her up and turned her so he could work on her buttons, even though Sara stood close by. “I should get some hot water and bandages,” Sara muttered.

“Please do.”

Johanna was past panicked when Sara left the room and she was alone with Paul. He pulled her dress up and off, her corset next in the pile until she was only standing in her blood-soaked chemise. He went to take it off and Johanna sat, begging, “Please, d-don’t.”

“Fine, but I need to take a look at your leg.”

When he moved her chemise slightly up, she screamed. “Please, stop!” she implored him.

He gently tugged up the fabric despite her protests as Sara rushed into the room with water in a pitcher and clean cloths. Paul didn’t move out of Sara’s way; he wet the cloths in the water and began cleaning Johanna’s wound. It took a few times of swiping the cloth along her leg before his eyes widened. “I-I tried to tell you not to look at my leg, and now you know how grotesque I really am,” Johanna cried.

“All I’m interested in is cleaning your wound. Sara, fetch the doctor. I think she needs stitches.”

Sara bounded from the room and Paul pressed the cloth on her leg to help stem the blood flow. Johanna was quite dizzy by that point. “I need to lie down. I think I’m going to faint.”

“Of course. You’re bleeding quite badly. I’ll hold a cloth over your leg until the doctor comes. I could close the wound, but I’m too shaky at the moment,” he admitted.

Paul’s eyes were widened with genuine concern mirrored in them. Sweat dripped from his brow, his jaw tight, eyes glistening, and Johanna knew it had nothing to do with sweat. She was shocked at how upset he appeared, as if he really cared for her. Did he?

Johanna fluttered her eyelids. Once she had closed her eyes, it was as if she was sucked down a tunnel. Her heart went from pounding when Paul moved her chemise to a dull thud. Her breath was coming much shorter, and she coughed several times to clear her throat enough to take in a deeper breath. Sweat broke out on her brow and she hurt worse than she remembered when she had injured her leg at the factory. It throbbed with every beat of her heart, and she wasn’t able to stop herself from blacking out.

Paul’s eyes were glued to Johanna as she closed her eyes and didn’t open them again. Her chest rose and fell, but she was much too pale. She had struggled to breathe, but once she passed out, it seemed much easier. He prayed the doctor would get there in time.

“Is she okay?” his mother asked as she joined him.

“Why don’t you go downstairs and wait for the doctor.”

She opened her mouth then snapped it closed again as though she thought better of speaking for the moment. He didn’t mean to snap at his mother, but he knew how she could be at times and right then, he wanted to focus on Johanna. It was unfortunate timing that she had returned so soon after she left, but all he could think about was his wife and getting her through this.

When Johanna fought him like a wild cat, he knew there must have been a reason. She was trying to hide the scar she had. It wasn’t hideous to him, but a part of the woman he loved and called wife. He added another cloth to stem the flow of blood when there was a knock at the door. In came the doctor with his medical bag, which he set down next to the bed.

“I’ll take over,” Dr. Phelps said. “What happened?”

“She fell by the river. I think a stick might have injured her.”

The doctor removed the cloths and cleaned the wound with a liquid from a bottle in his bag, covering it with a clean cloth. “Hold this for me, Paul.”

Paul held the cloth while the doctor threaded a needle, turning back to Johanna. “It might be a good idea to hold her down in case she wakes up.”

Paul nodded and went to the opposite side of the bed, placing an arm across Johanna’s chest and arms. The doctor began to close the wound and Johanna tried to jerk upward, but Paul held her in place. “The doctor is sewing your wound closed.”

Her eyes widened. “I want Sara here.”

“I can’t leave you now.”

She nodded then screamed in pain and it broke Paul’s heart, but he couldn’t do anything for her at that moment. When her head wobbled sideways, he knew she had passed out again.

When the doctor finished, he washed up. “I’ll leave you something for pain, but right now, she needs to rest. Keep her off that leg for a few days and if she gets feverish, call me back over here.”

When the doctor left, Paul took Johanna’s hand in his, kissing the back of it. “Don’t leave me, my love. I don’t think I could bear it now.”

Sara cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Worthington. Perhaps we should put a clean chemise on her now.”

“Of course. I’ll let you do that, unless you want me to help.”

“I think I can handle it, but I’ll let you know once she’s out of that wet chemise.”

“I would have taken it off already, but she was fighting me.”

“Well, you haven’t even been to your marriage bed as of yet. I’m sure she was frightened.”

“She was hiding that scar. Were you aware of it?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not, but I wish she had told me about it. It’s not like I’d send her away. We all have our imperfections.”

Paul left the room and waited until Sara came out and told him Johanna was changed. He walked back into the room, taking residence on a chair near the bed.

“What happened?” Sara finally asked.

“We had a picnic and I took her to the mouth of the bay. Unfortunately, a storm blew up and we had to make a run for it in the rain. I should have carried her so she wouldn’t fall.”

“It’s not your fault. Accidents happen.”

“I wonder how she injured her leg to create a scar like that.”

“You’ll have to ask her when she wakes up.”

Paul nodded. He was glad Johanna had confided in Sara. She needed someone to talk to until she made friends, although Paul knew Johanna wasn’t the type to make friends with the other lumber barons’ wives. She came from a working-class environment and seemed to easily relate to Becky. It would take time to introduce her around properly. He only hoped he’d get the chance.

Intermittently, Paul got up and put a cool cloth on Johanna’s head. Sweat covered her brow, pooling in the crease of her neck, even dampening the clean chemise she wore. He made sure the blankets were pulled back in case she had a fever raging, although she felt cool to the touch.

Sara was perched in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. From the determined look in her eye, she had no intention of leaving, so he didn’t ask her to. When Johanna woke up, he wanted her to feel comfortable, not put upon by his presence. He would be very protective of her until she recovered, even if that meant he’d have to tell his mother to stay away. She had her moments of making the wrong kind of comments at the worst time. Perhaps he’d have a little talk with her about that. Johanna was his wife and should be spoken to and treated with respect. He wanted this home to be a happy one.

* * *

Johanna thrashed in her sleep, trying to escape the throbbing pain in her leg. Suddenly, she felt hands on her.
Why are they holding me down?
She moved more frantically until Paul said, “Calm down, Johanna. I’m trying to help you.” A cool cloth was applied to her brow and she jerked her head to remove it. She wasn’t of the mind to know if she was dreaming or what was really happening. All she knew was it felt like someone had speared her leg. She tried to open her eyes, but it was as if they were glued together.

“Should I fetch the doctor?” Sara asked.

“What good will that do?” Cecilia replied. “Can’t you see she’s too injured to pull through?”

“Please, Mother,” Paul choked out. “You’re really not helping here. Go back downstairs.”

Footsteps moved toward the door and it was closed none too gently. Johanna snapped her eyes open, gazing into Paul’s concerned ones. He looked haggard, with razor stubble peppering his face. She then glanced across the bed at Sara, who was equally unkempt.

“H-How long have I been here?”

“In the bed, or Saginaw?” Paul asked.

“In this bed, silly.”

Paul smiled down at her. “Five long days. Your leg is on the mend, but you’ve had a raging fever.” He felt her brow. “It’s much cooler now.”

“Why were you holding me down?”

“We had to. Otherwise, you’d have thrown yourself off the bed.”

“Oh, my leg still hurts horribly.”

“It was a four-inch gash, but the doctor has been here every day changing your bandages. He was concerned about why you hadn’t woken up yet. He told us if you didn’t soon that you might never,” Paul explained. “I wasn’t about to let you go, so we did whatever we could to keep you cool.”

Johanna reached for a blanket, but Paul stilled her hand. “Not yet. I want to make sure the fever is gone for good.”

“But I’m nearly naked!”

“Sara changed your chemise not long ago, but you’ve been soaking through them. We’ve kept a sheet on you, though.”

“Can I get something to drink?”

Paul poured a glass of water and helped Johanna to lean up, drinking from it. She grabbed it, taking large gulps until Paul stopped her. “Not so fast.”

“I’m so parched.”

“I know, but you’ll have to take your time.”

Paul put the glass back on the nightstand and eased down on a chair. He swiped a hand through his hair, a slight smile on his lips. “I’m so glad you woke up. I don’t think I want to be known as the man who killed his mail-order bride.”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault. I’m the clumsy one who fell.”

“Ah, so you
do
remember.”

“Yes, but I’m a little hazy about what happened after that.”

“I carried you back to the buggy and brought you home. I swear I should never have taken you to the mouth of the bay when a storm was brewing, but I was sure it was going to blow over.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I hope you don’t mind that you married a disfigured woman.”

“Disfigured? Hardly, but it’s a nasty scar. How did you come by it?”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Sara announced. “I need to get washed up and make sure your clothes were cleaned.”

After Sara left, Johanna admitted, “I really like Sara.” She sighed then, ready to finally explain herself to Paul. “I was working on a machine when it came apart and a piece of metal speared my leg. It had been badly mangled, I’m afraid.”

“Did they seek immediate medical attention?”

“No. I mean, the foreman called the doctor, but he wasn’t the best sawbones you ever met. He cleaned and sewed my leg back together the best he could, but it became infected and had to be drained many times.”

Paul gritted his teeth. “That’s horrible. Who took care of you?”

“I couldn’t work for two months, but the other women from the factory took care of me, and luckily some had enough medical knowledge to be of use. I hated how it made me feel, and I’ve never been able to repay the women like I would have liked. And now they’re all mail-order brides.”

“I’m sure the women knew you appreciated their help.”

“I thanked them all the time, and they told me we weren’t only co-workers but sisters. We knew the factory owner couldn’t care less if we were injured, or anyone else for that matter. All he was concerned with was the money lining his pocket. The manager thinks he even set the factory on fire, but there was no proof.”

“Perhaps you should rest, Johanna.”

“You need to listen to your own advice. You look quite the sight.” She braved a smile.

Paul ran a hand across his razor stubble. “I know, but I couldn’t leave your side. What if I did and I wasn’t here when you woke up?”

“I’m sure Sara could have taken turns with you.”

“She’s really a gem, and I won’t forget her dedication.”

“I’m sure that’s who she is as a person.” Johanna bit her lip. “You should probably take a break now. I’m sure your mother won’t be happy you’ve been wasting your days up here with me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I heard her in my room right before I woke up. It seems she expected me to die.”

“We all did, in a way, but I wasn’t willing to give up. I’d have sent for another doctor if I had to. My mother is good at making her opinion known, many times when it’s least welcomed. She does take some getting used to. I had to send her back downstairs more than a few times.”

“I imagine she worries about you.”

“Yes. She’s always been a strong and domineering woman. My father never minded it since she ran an efficient household while he was working the farm. He built it up to be one of the most profitable farms in Ohio. I began to help out when I was twelve, and the farm was eventually sold when my father insisted we all move to Saginaw to get into lumbering. He invested heavily in railroads, lumbering, and even a few mines. It was then that my parents moved into a beautiful Victorian mansion on the north end of town. My mother was instantly transformed into a social butterfly—”

“Something I rather enjoyed,” Cecilia interrupted from the door before she asked, “May I join you, Paul?”

“Of course,” Johanna said with a smile.

Cecilia moved stiffly across the floor to the bed. Her white hair seemed to match her complexion, or it might have been the black dress she wore.

“I’m glad to see you awake. You’ve given us all quite the scare.”

“I can see that, but now that I’m awake, I thought you could tell me a little more about yourself. I’m not trying to steal your son from you.”

“I never exactly thought about it that way, but I certainly could have been warmer to you. I’m sorry if I haven’t made you feel at home here.”

“Perhaps if we knew more about each other, it would help. Paul just told me you were a social butterfly.”

“Social icon, they say. I had a knack for organizing dinner parties and fundraisers for the orphan train children.”

“I think I remember someone talking about that. Street children have even left from Lawrence before. Now
that
is a terrible plight to be in. I can’t tell you how many children there were running the streets.”

“Perhaps you could help me with a fundraiser when you’re feeling better,” Cecilia offered.

“I’d love that. What was your husband like?”

“He was hardworking, loyal, and willing to help out his fellow man. I loved him so much that my heart is still broken since he died.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, truly. You must have been married a long time,” Johanna said.

“Over forty years. Paul is our only child, so I suppose that’s why I worry so about him.”

“That’s understandable.”

“My father took me fishing every chance he could, when he wasn’t working,” Paul admitted. “He taught me how to treat my workers fairly, about how important they were to a company. ‘If you treat a man fairly,’ he’d say, ‘they’ll work harder.’ I took that one step further and had cabins built, as you’ve seen. When you’re better, I’ll take you to an actual lumberjack camp.”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to do that for some time,” Cecilia scolded him.

“My mother is right, but we’ll be here to help you any way we can.”