The Bride Price (2 page)

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to the lawyers.”

“Thanks. I have to go.” Jamie hung up before
Brian could respond.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Someone wants to
give you money?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“Everything okay?”

Jamie nodded. “Yes. Brian’s just having a
difficult time without me there to hold his hand.”

Sophie smiled. “If you need to go into the
office tomorrow, you can. I’ll be fine.”

“Not going to happen.” He reached for his
guitar.

Sophie chuckled. “Ah, yes, the other woman.
Will you play me a lullaby—provided she doesn’t mind, of course.”
She smoothed her blankets and gazed at him.

“Well, Ten-Cow, that depends on you.” He
paused, the hollow sound echoing through the chamber of the guitar
as he tapped his hand against it. “One song for two bites of food,
that’s the deal.”

Sophie sighed through tight lips. “I’ll take
a bit of the orange.”

Handing her a wedge, he waited for her to eat
it, and started to play quietly. Sophie hummed along with the
melody, and Jamie paused, mid-strum. “I miss your voice.”

Sophie smiled. “I miss singing.”

Jamie reached over to the nightstand and
opened the drawer.

“What are you doing?”

Jamie grinned. “I’m reminiscing.” He pulled
out an old playbill from the production of
Grease
she’d
starred in. “You were the perfect Sandy.”

Sophie chuckled. “If only you could have been
my Danny.”

Jamie snorted. “I’m not going to justify that
statement with a remark.”

Sophie rolled over and wrinkled her nose.
“Well, you would have been better than Justice Wright.”

Jamie shrugged. “He seemed okay. He played
the role well.”

“You try kissing a gay man and make it look
real.”

Jamie laughed. He leaned over and kissed her
quickly, before handing her another wedge of orange. “That should
settle your stomach enough to eat something substantial.” Sophie
rolled her eyes and Jamie responded with a raised eyebrow in
challenge. “You’re gonna eat, Ten-Cow.”

Sophie scrunched her nose up in disgust. “I’m
not hungry.”

“You have to strengthen your body in order to
fight—”

“—
the infection that will
tax my failing heart even more,” she interrupted and slid further
under the blankets. “I know, Jamie but my heart’s gonna stop
whether I eat or not. Daddy’s did and I couldn’t make him
live.”

Jamie froze, a quiet hiss escaping between
his teeth.

“Sorry, baby,” Sophie whispered. “I shouldn’t
have said that.”

Jamie shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Sophie smiled. “I just remembered a weird
dream I had about one of our reenactments.”

“Really?”

“Do you remember the haunted house?”

Jamie laughed. “Not haunted, simply a case of
faulty wiring.”

“Right. Go with that.”

Three years ago Sophie had taken part in a
Civil War event that was filled with mishaps. Little things like a
power surge that caused a television, hidden behind an antique
painting, to turn on. “Your team had fun explaining the noise
coming from behind the artwork. Didn’t one of the old ladies
faint?” Cradling the guitar on his knees, Jamie picked up the fork
again, speared a small piece of potato, and lifted it to her
mouth.

She shook her head. “That was Miss Olive. I
personally thought it was a stroke of pure genius on her part to
fake a swoon. She distracted people until we could shut off the
breaker.”

“Sophie, you need to eat.”

“I’m too hot to eat.” She pushed the blankets
away from her body.

Jamie helped pull the blankets further down
the bed. “Imagine
you
in the nineteenth-century without air
conditioning. God forbid the temperature went above seventy degrees
and you’re stuck in a gown like Mary Lincoln’s.” Jamie leaned over
her and settled his palm on her forehead. Sophie winced and let out
a quiet moan. “Are you in pain?”

“No, just feel sick. And hot.” Sophie reached
for his hand. “I’m fine, Jamie. Really. I just need to sleep.”

Jamie watched her eyes close and her
breathing grow even. Taking Sophie’s frail hand in his, he stroked
her arm. “Remember when we met? The frat party. I’ll never forget
the moment I saw you. You were yelling at some frat guy who’d just
slapped your butt, explaining the pitfalls of displaying chauvinism
in your presence. I wondered if you were a law student.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed
the inside of her wrist, drawing in her scent. “I couldn’t take my
eyes off you. You were pissed, and it made me hot. I’d never seen
anyone put someone in their place the way you did that guy.”

The headlights of a car flashed through the
window as it drove by, illuminating the room and drawing shadows
across the wall. “I knew I had to meet you.” Jamie squeezed her
hand. “When we talked, I felt like my life had just started and
there was no way you weren’t going to be in it. I knew you’d be
mine—forever.” He couldn’t continue. Tears escaped as he laid his
head down, her hand still in his, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Sophie’s eyelids felt like lead weights. She
wanted to wake up,
needed
to. The bedroom grew cold, despite
the roaring fire in the corner. Sophie tried to get her bearings,
forcing her eyes open. Her gaze fell on the shelf that held her
favorite Lincoln biography, and she stared in disbelief. The wood
grain faded away, becoming the trunk of a very large tree. Beyond
the tree, all she saw was an expanse of snow and forest.

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut and then looked
again. The books and shelves were back. Sophie’s focus pulled back
to Jamie, but as she stared down at him, the sheets melted away,
becoming a mound of fresh snow. Her body frozen, Sophie shivered,
and then the bed was back. She tried to force her body to move
again, but couldn’t reach the blankets. Sophie’s head fell back
onto the pillow.

The ceiling disappeared. White sky met her
gaze; drops of cold water feathered her face. She shivered again
and glanced back down at Jamie. He lay still next to her, his hand
covering hers. Her vision blurred.

I’m hallucinating. This must be what happens
with a raging fever. Jamie, wake up. I need you.

Sophie’s heart stuttered and pain coursed
through her chest.

No, not hallucinating. Dying! Am I
dying?

The snow returned and she tried to reach out
to the strange vision. Before she could do anything else, the room
spun, and her world went black.

* * *

Jamie jerked awake at Sophie’s shiver.
Leaning over the bed, he put his hand to her mouth, then her cheek,
and relief slicked through him as heat bloomed against his
skin.

“Sophie? Honey, wake up.” His voice shook as
he whispered her name again. Her shaking worsened, and he pulled
the covers to her shoulders, just as he heard the front door
slam.

“Jamie!” Emma called from the foyer. “I’m
home.”

Jamie jogged down the hall and peered down
from the landing. “Up here.”

Emma’s straight blonde hair slid behind her
shoulders as she lifted her head. Deep blue eyes so much like her
sister’s narrowed in concern as she peered up at him. “You sound
weird, what’s wrong?”

“Sophie’s fever spiked, and now she’s
shaking. She’s freezing.”

Emma took the stairs two at a time. “Did you
give her anything?”

“Yes, Tylenol. I don’t know if it’s helping
though.”

Emma ran to the bedroom as Jamie grabbed a
couple of blankets from the hallway closet and followed her.
“Emma?” Jamie scanned the room and found her standing over the
empty bed holding Sophie’s LVAD wires.
Wait—empty?
His heart
raced.

“Where is she?” Jamie moved to the side of
the bed and ran his hands over the sheets.

Emma dropped the wires. “I don’t know. Did
you see her leave the room?”

“It would have been impossible.”

Emma grasped his shoulders and turned him to
face her. “Did you check the bathroom? She probably just went to
splash water on her face.”

Jamie pushed her hands away. “Check
downstairs.” Without waiting for Emma to agree, he ran through the
upper floor, yelling Sophie’s name. He lingered in each room just
in case she might appear at his call.

Emma met him back in his bedroom. “She’s not
downstairs…or in the basement.”

Jamie pulled at the sheets on the empty bed
and dropped to his knees, shaking hands digging into his scalp.
“Where is she? Where is my wife?”

CHAPTER TWO

Ammonia. She hadn’t expected heaven to smell
like bleach. And voices? No, yelling.
God allows yelling in
heaven?

Then wet, bone-chilling cold pressed into her
skin, her bones, her mind.
Why’s it cold…and why am I wet? If my
bedroom has central heat and a fireplace, certainly heaven does,
too.

Most of all, the pain had vanished...the
expected burn as she breathed no longer clutched her chest. She
took in a deep breath, and forced her eyes open. Light made her
blink even as she swatted at the stench. “What—?”

“Betty, get Dr. Wade, quickly!” a female
voice yelled.

A form bent over her. A pretty woman, her
hair whisked under what looked like a bonnet. She wore a woolen
gray coat and not a stitch of makeup, as if she were some sort of
religious conservative. The woman removed a dark glove and pressed
a warm, soft hand to Sophie’s head. “Miss, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you. Why am I cold?” Sophie
asked.

“You’ve fainted in the snow. We’re going to take you
to my home. My husband will help you. He’s a doctor.”

Snow? This is heaven, right? Why is there snow in
heaven?

Sophie tried to sit up but before she could manage, a
pair of strong arms lifted her. Her head snapped up, and she stared
into warm, brown eyes.

Not Jamie’s. These belonged to someone
unfamiliar.

“Put me down!” She pushed at his shoulders. “Where is
my husband? Where’s Jamie?” Wriggling her body in an effort to
dislodge herself from the stranger, she only managed to skew her
all too inadequate clothing.

“I don’t know a Jamie, ma’am. I think you may
have hit your head.” His deep-set gaze assessed her. A lock of
sandy blond hair fell over a wide forehead. His face, weathered and
sun-beaten, cradled a gentle smile as his eyes met hers. Not quite
gentle enough, however, to stop the nervous shiver that coursed
through her body.

“My head is fine. Put me down.”

With his wide shoulders, he carried her
without trouble, and her efforts to get him to release her failed.
Although she had lost quite a bit of weight over the past year, she
certainly didn’t feel as waifish as she had moments ago.

“Ma’am, quit your wrigglin’. No harm will
come to you.”

Something in the softness of his southern
drawl eased her fear – albeit slightly. He shifted her in his
embrace, but there was no sense that he might set her on her feet.
“What’s your name?”

“Richard Madden, ma’am.”

His name dropped away as her surroundings
came into view. Snow-covered trees surrounded them. The sound of
crunching under his feet distracted her focus as he carried her
toward a home that looked like something out of a Benjamin Franklin
restoration. Sophie looked everywhere, trying to take it all
in.

The brick Federal style manor loomed ahead;
seven steps led to a cobblestone porch, housing two large white
doors and an iron doorknocker. Sophie guessed the heavy iron would
echo through the entire house.

I’m hallucinating. Isn’t that what brain
tumors do to you? Great! A brain tumor and a failing heart!

“Are you the doctor?”

“No, ma’am, I’m a neighbor of the Wades. I’m
going to take you into the house.”

She pushed at his shoulders again. “No, wait.
I don’t know these people. I don’t want to go into their
house.”

“Ma’am. No one will harm you. The Wades are
good people.”

She allowed herself to relax slightly at his
words.
This must be what they call Stockholm syndrome. I’m
trusting my kidnapper.

“Who are the Wades?” she whispered.

Before the man could answer, she heard a deep
voice ask, “Nona, what’s amiss?”

She turned toward the sound and saw a tall
stranger come into view. A glance revealed dark blond hair graying
at the temples and a quick smile.

“Michael, this girl appears to have fainted
out by the stables. I found her when I went out for my morning
constitutional.”

Sophie’s heart raced, the sensation alien to her
after so much time with one which barely beat. Her mind reeled,
trying to make sense of what happened.

“Richard, bring her into the parlor,” the
deep voice bellowed. “Nona, have Betty get some warm blankets.
She’s probably frozen to the bone.”

Richard walked up the front steps and into the large
foyer. Sophie’s gaze couldn’t linger on the surroundings of the
entrance as he carried her into the room just to the right of the
front door. Richard laid her gently on the sofa and solid muscles
constricted beneath his thick, woolen jacket. When he exhaled, she
smelled a hint of alcohol on his breath.

The man he called Michael hovered over her
with kindness in his light gray eyes.

The doctor?

“Now, young lady, let’s have a look at you.
How did you end up by the stables?” He turned to Richard. “Was she
with you last night?”

A look of offense flashed over Richard’s
expression. “The lady wasn’t with me, Michael. I’ve never seen her
before.”

Darn right, Skippy. I was with Jamie.

“Who are you guys? Am I dead? Is this
heaven?”

“Heaven?” Michael chuckled. “Nona has often
referred to our home as heavenly, haven’t you, Mrs. Wade?”

Sophie shot a frantic look around the room.
“But – uhh, I think I died.” Sophie’s hand pressed against her
stomach as she whispered, “Why are you all dressed in costume?”