Riverbreeze: Part 1 (34 page)

He groaned and hung his head in his
hands.

“You hear that, you brute!” Elizabeth yelled,
still so angry she could spit. “I hope you suffer the wrath of God
for this!”

“Bess…” Evelyn chided her sister. “Please,
that is not necessary.”

Elizabeth gaped at her sister, then turned
sharply back to Jamie when he yelled back, “I didn’t mean to hurt
her!” Then he directed his next words to Evelyn, lowering his
voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Evelyn.”

Evelyn tore her gaze from him. She was so
confused. She knew the best thing to do right now was to put some
distance between them. “I want to go inside now, please.” She said
to Elizabeth.

“Evelyn, won’t you listen to me?” Jamie
continued to plead. “Please, I beg your pardon. Please…” He
struggled against Menefie’s hold, but Menefie would not let him
go.

“Calm down, Jamie.” He said. “Talk to her
tomorrow.”

Captain Mathews was graciously helping Evelyn
to stand and Elizabeth, hovering over her like a mother hen, helped
her to brush off her skirts and to straighten her collar. Evelyn’s
gown was wrinkled and stained and it would take days to repair it,
but she couldn’t worry about that now.

“Thank you, sir.” She murmured.

“Is there anything else I can do for
you?”

“We were on our way to get our dogs from the
servant, Walter. Would you mind retrieving them for us?”

“I will be honored to do that for you.”

“Thank you again, sir.”

And as Elizabeth guided her sister back
inside the house, Evelyn looked back at Jamie one last time. He
looked totally dejected, his eyes followed her the whole way, but
he didn’t try to talk to her again.

She was so disappointed. She wanted to
forgive him, but the fact was he had hurt her and for the moment,
she couldn’t forget that.

Chapter Eleven: In Sickness

The next morning Jamie was as sick as a dog.
He barely pushed himself up in time in order to vomit all over the
floor. Thankfully he was in the stables and the soiled straw could
be cleaned up with a lift of the shovel. He retched until he
thought he was going to die and almost wished he would die when the
chills started in earnest. This was the sickest he had ever been,
worse than the seasickness he had experienced on the voyage to the
colony and worse than the first bouts of malaria he had ever had.
For now he was experiencing both at the same time, only it wasn’t
seasickness, but the first hangover he had ever had.

And the malaria—he wanted to cry. He had
prayed that it wouldn’t ever come back and he had thanked God every
day that went by without it. It had actually been almost two full
years since his last bout. He thought it was gone for good; he knew
people who had grown out of it and had hoped that he had too. But
he also knew people who had it for the rest of their lives and now
feared that he would as well.

He lay back down on the pallet he had made
for himself the night before, (he wouldn’t even allow himself to
think of the night before), groaning, trembling, his head feeling
like it was going to explode and his stomach roiling like a
hurricane-ravished sea. He had his forearm over his eyes and he
could smell the stink of his vomit, his own filthy, unwashed body
and all the other stable odors that usually brought him comfort,
but not this morning.

As he lay there, shaking uncontrollably,
conscious of every labored breath, willing his stomach to settle,
he listened to the noises around him. There were the sounds of the
usual morning chores; horses being led out of the stables and
someone shoveling straw. At least it made him feel a little bit
better knowing that someone, most likely Walter, was tending to his
horses. From the corner he heard little mewling noises, the barn
cat nursing her kittens. Voices came to him from outside, men
joking and laughing and talking. He heard those damnable crows
cawing and in contrast his precious horses neighing, reminding him
of yesterday’s beautiful morning and the promise of another
beautiful day. Life was going on all around him, but all he could
do was lie there and moan.

It wasn’t long before he sensed someone
standing over him. He shifted his arm higher on his forehead and
opened his eyes a crack. Even though it was dim in this part of the
stables, the small amount of light stabbed at his eyes and he
groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Are you all right, Master James?” A young
boy’s voice asked. He had recognized all the signs of Jamie’s
dreaded disease and was concerned.

Jamie slowly opened his eyes again. It had
been a surprise to hear that young voice full of concern, but it
was even more of a surprise to see
four
young boys standing there, two little ones and the other two barely
in their teens, looking down at him. Jamie hadn’t even heard them
approach and realized that they had most likely snuck up on
him.

He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak but
nothing came out. His mouth and throat were as dry as a cured
tobacco leaf.

“Should I get Master Robert?” The boy asked
then. He was nervously fiddling with the bottom button of his shirt
where it tucked into his breeches.

Jamie nodded, humiliated. He finally
recognized the boy as being the fourteen-year-old son of Samuel
Mathews, Samuel Jr. The two smaller boys, brothers most likely,
were staring at him as if he were some kind of mutated bug; the
other one, taller and stockier, like he was a worthless dog.

Jamie kept his eyes on Sam. The chills were
worse now and he couldn’t control the awful shaking. “Th..th..thank
you, Sam.” He managed to whisper without biting his tongue.

And then they were gone in a flash, eight
bare feet pounding on the packed dirt floor and then a huge crash
as the door was thrown shut behind them.

* * *

Robert had already been up close to two
hours. He had awoken refreshed and free of any considerable pain.
His leg felt ninety-five percent better, the cut on his cheek
pulled only a little when he smiled and most important of all, he
felt a lightness in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He and Robin had washed up, dressed and gone downstairs before
anyone else had gotten up. Even Sally had still been asleep on her
narrow cot, (which was in the corner of the kitchen and behind a
wooden screen), exhausted from the day before. Robert had tried not
to disturb her as he had gotten the fire going in the big kitchen
fireplace, even allowing Robin to help him with the kindling and
pine knots. Then he had drawn several buckets of water from the
well and had brought them back into the kitchen. By then Sally had
woken up, but he had convinced her to linger in bed which she did
while he found leftover meat, bread, fruit and other dishes down in
the root cellar and had brought all of it up, setting the table and
readying it for the guests. Finally he had taken Robin outside to
allow Sally some privacy, but returned shortly thereafter when she
called them back in for a hot breakfast. He had been feeling so
good he had even given Sally a peck on the cheek as she served him
fresh, hot corn fritters.

But now Robert felt his heart sink. It had
only taken him a minute to run to the stables after Sam had come
for him. He went down onto his knees beside his brother and he
couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Not
again
, he thought,
not today of all
days
. Their eyes met and Robert could see the misery in
Jamie’s bloodshot eyes. “Oh God, Jamie,” He sighed. “’Tis the
sickness again, isn’t it?”

“I..I’m s..sorry.” was all Jamie could
manage. A tear formed at the corner of his eye, then rolled down
his face into the hair at his temple.

Robert thumbed the wetness away. “What are we
going to do? You can’t marry Evelyn like this.”

Jamie groaned again. “Sh…she hates m..me
anyway.”

“What!” Robert was shocked. He thought Jamie
and Evelyn had fallen in love at first sight. “What happened?”

“I..I hurt her.” Jamie said. Another tear
fell, following the same track as the previous one. “I..I..”

“Say no more. You need not explain it to me
now.” Robert interrupted, knowing how difficult it was for Jamie to
talk when he had the chills like this. He also didn’t believe that
Jamie could have hurt Evelyn; Jamie had never hurt anyone. There
must have been some misunderstanding between them.

Robert wiped away the second tear, then
picked a small, black flea off of Jamie’s neck and another one from
his collarbone. “Let’s get you in the house and cleaned up.” He
said. “Then we’ll decide what to do.” And without waiting for an
answer from Jamie, Robert turned to the boy who was waiting in the
background. “Sam, do get your father, please.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy took off, quick as a
blink.

While they waited for Samuel Mathews to
arrive, Robert got up and rummaged around for a second blanket to
wrap Jamie in. He finally found several rough horse blankets folded
and stacked on a rickety old bench by the double doors. He took the
one on the top; it looked as good as any of the others, although
there were a few moth holes here and there. He shook it out,
coughed at the dust it kicked up and wrinkled his nose at the awful
smell of horse and old wool.
Jamie will love
it
, Robert thought with a shake of his head.

When Robert returned with the blanket draped
over his arm, he saw that Jamie had rolled onto his side to the
edge of the pallet, his back facing outwards. Jamie was trying to
do something, but the shaking was making it quite difficult. He was
also cursing under his breath, even though the words were barely
coming out of his mouth whole. “What the hell are you doing?”
Robert asked, stepping right up to Jamie’s back. He looked down at
where Jamie’s fingers were now clutching the fabric of his breeches
close to his crotch.

Robert frowned. He knew that Jamie
sometimes…um…brought himself to satisfaction, especially in the
morning when…well, you know, but now! He had never known the
sickness to arouse Jamie before.

Jamie’s hands stilled, or rather he ceased
trying to unbutton his breeches. His hands still shook like he had
some kind of palsy. He rolled his head back to look up at Robert.
“I…I got t..to p..piss real b..b..bad.”

Oh. Robert momentarily felt ashamed, but not
enough to stop him from exclaiming, “So, you’re planning to piss
right there on the floor?”

“Y..y..yes!”

“Can’t you at least wait until Captain
Mathews gets here and we’ll take you to the privy?”

“No!” Jamie cried desperately, managing for
once to get the word out without stuttering.

“Oh Christ! All right, but…” Robert dropped
the blanket, lowered himself to his knees again and reached around
to release the buttons of Jamie’s breeches. “I’m not holding it for
you.”

Jamie grunted something under his breath;
Robert thought he had said, “Thank God!”

Once the buttons were undone, Jamie
immediately reached into the opening, but Robert was still fussing
around, sweeping in more straw with his hands, mounding it a little
in front of Jamie’s crotch area, thinking that the extra straw
would help to soak up the liquid.

“S..s..stop it!” Jamie cried out in
frustration. He pushed and slapped at Robert’s hands, and finally,
Robert got the message and left Jamie alone.

Moving back to the doors and waiting for
Mathews to arrive, Robert paced back and forth, trying to figure
out how they were going to hold the weddings today. Perhaps if he
could get Jamie cleaned up and dressed before the fever took hold
of him…

Captain Mathews came in and clapped his hand
on Robert’s shoulder. “So, the boy is a little sick this morning,
eh? No surprise about that.” Mathews said, sounding unconcerned and
even rather amused.

“What?” Robert eyed Mathews. Mathews must
have misunderstood his son’s description of Jamie’s symptoms. “Why
is it not a surprise? Did the symptoms appear last night after I
had left? And why didn’t anybody tell me last night?” He
demanded.

“Easy there, son.” Mathews patted Robert’s
shoulder. He spoke in a low, fatherly voice. “Jamie was fine last
night, well, fine may be stretching it a little, and there was a
slight mishap but I explained to Mistress Evelyn that Jamie was a
young man on the eve of his marriage and he had had a little too
much to drink. You know how it is, Rob, when ‘tis your last night
as a single man and you celebrate a little too much? And
unfortunately Jamie got carried away. But who wouldn’t with as
lovely a girl as Mistress Evelyn is? Of course I take full
responsibility. George and I should never have let Jamie
overindulge like that.”

Robert couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
At first he had just stood there, his mouth hanging open, but the
more Mathews said, the angrier he became. He could feel his body
tense as his ire grew. His brother had gotten drunk? He was sick
because he was hung over? Of course Samuel Jr. could have gotten
the symptoms confused. The symptoms were almost the same, headache,
vomiting, although Robert didn’t believe a hangover caused chills
or a fever. And Jamie hadn’t answered yes to Robert’s question; he
had only said he was sorry.