A Bride Most Begrudging (45 page)

She rolled onto her side, propping her head in her hand. “Surprise.”

He looked at her stomach.
With child! God help him
. “When?”

“I think it will arrive in about five months. Maybe sooner. I’m not really sure.”

Stark, vivid fear hit him full force.

She must have seen it, for she placed a hand against his cheek and gave him an affectionate smile. “ ‘Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’ ”

It was Isaiah 41:10. The very same verse he’d recited to her during their wedding ceremony. Why did it fail to bring him comfort?

She smoothed his hair back from his face. “You must not worry, Drew. You must simply let God and nature run their course.”

That terrified him even more. “I don’t like the way God and nature run their course.”

Tenderness touched her face. “There is naught you can do. Why, think of Sally. It is God who has spared her life and who still holds that life in the palm of His mighty hand.”

Oh, Lord
. Up to now, he’d managed to avoid those thoughts. But before he could stop it, pain crashed into his heart as his gaze drifted to Sally. So still she lay, each breath a miracle. And he could do nothing to wake her. To heal her. To ensure that she survived. Not one blessed thing.

Unbidden, long sable curls framing sparkling eyes and a mischievous smile filled his vision. He recalled with clarity the powerful, instantaneous feelings he’d experienced the first time he’d held her. She in one arm, her twin sister in the other, identical in appearance. And now, there was a very real chance that he could lose her. Even still. Just like that. He wasn’t ready to give her up, was never ready. He felt so infernally helpless.

Moisture rushed to his eyes while tears swelled in Connie’s. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. Like a trembling volcano, the pain, the grief, and the horror erupted without warning. A cry of agony burst from his lips, his groan echoing across the water even as Connie rolled from the raft into the creek and wrapped her arms around his neck. He cinched her to him and cried. For Sally. For his family. For himself.

Only after some time did he realize Connie was crying too. Eventually, their sobs turned to silence, a silence of nothing. Still, they remained in the middle of the shallow, clasped to each other, waiting for the emptiness to cease and for the healing to begin.

But it already had. For somewhere in the furthest corner of his heart was a little worm, wiggling with excitement about the overdue realization that Connie really did desire to stay. About the tremendous mercy God had shown by sparing Sally, so far. And about the news of a baby.
His and Connie’s
baby.

I give up, God. You made me. You know how I am. I cannot keep my distance. Nor can I keep those I love alive. Only you can do that. Only you are God.

I give over. I fall prostrate before you. What you see fit to bless me with I will rejoice over. When you takest away, I will turn to you for solace. For you are the One and Only God
.

He lifted his head. The smoke had begun to thicken again. The fire was still spreading. “We need to keep going.” Slipping a hand between them, he rested it against her stomach. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve run the length of this country and back, then swallowed the entire river.”

His eyes widened in alarm.

She lifted a corner of her mouth. “I’m fine, Drew. Truly, I’m fine.”

He believed her not, but there was nothing he could do. So he lifted her back onto the raft, and they once again headed toward the bay. They’d traveled no more than a few feet when a ball of light zinged the air above them, followed immediately by a deafening peal of thunder. He quickly propelled them to the bank, grabbed Sally, and hurtled both Connie and himself out of the water.

The crack continued to resound, each clamor a tiny bit less in volume than the last. No sooner had it stopped than the heavens opened up. It was as if God had sent a legion of angels to scoop the contents of the ocean into buckets and dump them onto Virginia.

In mere moments, the ground was afloat and the great fire was surely no more than a smoldering mist. They scrambled to the forest’s interior for protection from the pelting shards until, finally, the rain began to slacken into a steady drizzle.

He scanned the area around them, untouched by fire, and got his bearings. Though they’d traveled what seemed like miles in the winding creek, if he wasn’t mistaken, they were just a short walk from the big house.

“Hold out your arms.”

Connie cupped her arms, and he gently placed Sally in them, then scooped the both of them into his.

“What are you doing?!”

He took a fortifying breath. “I’m taking you, Sally, and our baby … home.”

chapter
T
HIRTY
   

IT LOOKED AS IF Drew would carry her over the threshold after all, and Sally as well. Enormous relief and thankfulness had swept through Constance when the big house came into view as fresh and untouched as a young maid. And now, Drew took the front steps two at a time, pushed open those great double doors, and carried her across the threshold before climbing up the stairs to the master chamber.

A chill from being wet and suddenly indoors took hold of her. She must get Sally and herself out of these sodden clothes haste, posthaste.

The child was still breathing but lay heavy against Constance and had not yet made any signs of awakening. Constance had seen nothing of the house but the great room the last time she was here but didn’t have the luxury of savoring her new surroundings. Her attention was centered on Sally.

Still, when they entered the master chamber, there was no avoiding the bed. Large enough for an entire family, the high post mahogany bed stood on four stately legs and was closed in at the head and foot by ornately decorated wooden panels. Though it had poles for bed curtains on the two open sides, none had been hung yet and no tick lay on the ropes.

She tightened her hold on Sally as Drew set them down in a chair.

“There’s some dry wood belowstairs in the kitchen,” he said, “and as soon as I get a fire going up here, I’ll tighten the ropes and put the tick on the bed. You will be all right for a moment?”

“Yes, yes. Go ahead.”

He looked around the room and snatched a wool coverlet off a stack of folded linens on a nearby dressing table. He shook it out and draped it around Connie’s shoulders like a cloak, arranging its folds so that Sally would be covered as well. “I’ll be right back,” he said and hurried out the door.

She could barely see the top of Sally’s head peeping through a gap in the coverlet. The sweet body heat they shared warmed Constance. Swaying from side to side, she hummed a lullaby while allowing her attention to wander across the chamber.

It was huge. The cottage could have fit into it two times. Furniture was planted haphazardly throughout. Two drop-leaf tables, several chairs, trunks, and a dressing table as fine as any back home took up much of the space.

A sapling broom stood propped in one corner, and a chest of drawers with butterfly pulls received an elaborate walnut Bible box complete with lock and key.

The beautifully plastered walls held three window casements with diamond-shaped lead glass panes, along with two additional windows in the attached alcove that would serve nicely as a nursery.

A brief movement below her feet caught her attention, and she could just barely discern Drew through the minute cracks in the plank flooring that set upon beams and served as a ceiling for the great room underneath.

Footfalls on the stairs reached her ears seconds before he strode into the room, dumping his load of wood into the fireplace that took up two-thirds of the west wall. “I’ve some heart of the pine to mix in with the regular pine and oak, so the room should heat up quickly. Are you all right?”

“Yes. As soon as you’re done, though, I need to get Sally out of these wet things.”

He nodded, igniting the wood with some flint, then quickly pressed fingers and thumbs to his lips, blowing a steady stream of air through the tiny hole he’d formed. The fire responded immediately, devouring the kindling and enfolding the dry logs.

He stood. “Let me tighten the bed ropes and throw the tick on first, so you’ll have someplace to put her when she’s dry.” He grabbed the bed key, and starting at one end, wedged the large wooden peg between the rope and bed frame, twisting, then releasing. From section to section, his movements were quick and sure until he’d made it all the way around.

The tick lay beneath the bed, and she knew it must weigh a tremendous amount. How he had any strength left with which to wrestle it onto the ropes amazed her.

“There,” he said, blowing a puff of air from his lungs. “She’ll be able to sleep tight now, and the tick is feather instead of straw, so there’ll be no bed bugs to bother her.”

A feather bed. Oh my.

Together they worked silently, she disrobing and drying Sally, he covering the tick with linen and fetching water from the kitchen. When all was ready, she carefully laid Sally on the mattress, covered her with wool, then finger-combed her hair away from the swollen bump at the base of her scalp. Dipping a rag into the bucket of water, she began to wash the blood from the wound.

“I’ve no garden here yet, nor any comfrey,” Drew said. Leaning forward, he tenderly touched the gash. Sally moaned. He sent Constance a look filled with hope and relief. “A good sign. Perhaps she’ll waken soon.”

When they’d done all they could, Constance wrung the rag out into the red-tinted water, a shiver going through her.

“You next,” he said. “Out of those clothes and into bed.”

She nodded but didn’t move from Sally’s side. The thought of undressing exhausted her. Where would she find the strength such a task would require? “I’m filthy. I’ll ruin the new bed.”

“I’ll bring you some fresh water.”

“I’ve no clothes to change into.”

His grin was downright wicked. “I know.”

A short laugh escaped her, yet still she made no move. He leaned down to place a light kiss on her forehead before grabbing the water bucket and leaving the room.

He returned to find her exactly where he’d left her, sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, eyes closed. Surely she hadn’t fallen asleep like that.

As he drew nearer, though, he saw tears pouring from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, jaw, and neck, then trickling into the folds of her neckline. Yet she made no sound nor any move to wipe them from her face.

He set the bucket down. “Connie? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

She raised her gaze to him, her eyes swollen, red.
“Mary.”

She’d barely whispered it, yet that one short name held immense anguish and misery within it.

“Oh, Connie.” He reached down and pulled her up into his embrace. “I know. I know.”

“She had such a hard life.” Her voice was muffled and broken against his shirt.

He cupped her head, holding it against him.

“And yet she was so giving and unselfish. She showed me how to survive on that ship, you know, when she could have easily left me to flounder or perish, even.” She hiccupped. “She comforted me when Uncle Skelly died. She offered encouragement here when I was having such trouble adjusting. She taught me so much. Listened. Shared. Even prayed with me. Oh, Drew,” she wailed, “how am I ever going to manage without her?”

Sobs racked her body. Tightening his hold, he stroked her hair, kissed her head, rubbed her shoulders. Mary had come to mean much to him as well. He’d not thought of her as a servant. Hadn’t for quite some time. He’d thought of her as a friend. A sister. An angel.

Oh, Lord. Why? Why would you take sweet, sweet Mary from Connie? From Sally? From me? Have you really such an urgent need for her to be with you? I don’t understand. Will never understand
.

Connie trembled, and he knew he must get her warm and safely tucked into bed.

Tilting her head back, he kissed the tears from her cheeks and placed a soft, tender kiss on her lips. Then scooping her hair off her face and shoulders, he began loosening her skirt and bodice. She stood mute and dejected as he peeled the sodden clothing from her frame and washed the mud, sand, and debris from her person, all the while supporting her lest she crumble to the floor.

Thank you for giving me this woman
.

He patted her dry, careful not to hurt her bruised and battered body, then wrapped her in soft linen.

Please protect her and the baby. Please, Lord. It is my heart’s deepest desire
.

He lifted her into his arms and laid her next to Sally. Connie rolled to her side, curled her knees up, and sucked in a choppy breath.

She was asleep before he’d finished tucking the wool coverlet beneath her chin. After spreading her clothes in front of the fire, he shucked his garments off and splashed water over himself. He paused to stoke the fire and then crawled onto the tick beside his beloved family.