Nan Ryan (30 page)

“But, Doctor Hunter, I’s got to get Miz Kathleen undressed, she need to be in the bed and I …”

“Hannah, please do as I say. I’ll see that she’s comfortable,” and he carried his wife into her room and closed the door. When Hunter placed her in a chair, she sat just as he placed her, not moving, giving no indication that she even knew where she was. Hunter took off his coat and tossed it to the foot of the bed. He went to his wife’s bureau and took out a clean white nightgown and came back to her.

“Kathleen,” he whispered, “I want you to get undressed and get into bed. You’re tired, I want you to rest.”

Her eyes never changed, she looked right through him. Hunter laid the nightgown across her knees and tried again, “Sweetheart, I’ve brought you your nightgown. You must undress and get into bed.” Still the glazed eyes stared into space and her hands made no move for her clothing. Worried, Hunter felt perspiration soaking his shirt. Whether it was the August heat or his frayed nerves, he had no idea. He took off his cravat, then unbuttoned the damp white shirt and cast it aside. His bare chest glistened, but when he bent down to his wife and took her hand, it was ice cold and the heavy black dress she wore was completely dry. More frightened than ever, he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Darling,” he whispered, “I’m going to undress you and put you to bed. Is that all right?”

The blue eyes looked at him when he spoke, but she didn’t nod her head. She was as she had been for the last two horrible days, completely silent, seemingly unaware of what was going on around her. Hunter finally managed to undress his wife and modestly pull the gown down over her hips. He whispered, leaning over her, “I’m going now, Kathleen. I want you to sleep. Do you think you can?” Her eyes stared at him and Hunter sighed and rose. He picked up his shirt and started for the door when the dam within Kathleen burst at last and she was sobbing loudly, “No, don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!” Hunter dropped the shirt where he stood and hurried back to the bed. He lifted her quickly from the mattress and stood holding her in his arms while she clung to him, her arms holding tightly to his neck, repeating, “Don’t leave me. It’s all my fault.
I
killed them!”

“Shhh,” he whispered, “I’m here, darling, with you. Nothing’s your fault. It’s certainly not, Angel,” and he walked the floor, holding his wife in his arms as though she were a baby. She continued to sob and bury her face in his chest saying, “Hunter, forgive me, please, please, forgive me.”

His lips in her hair, Hunter kissed her lovingly over and over while he soothed her. “I’m here, lean on me. Let me help you. I’ve got you, my darling, I’ll take care of you forever. Nothing is your fault. Cry it out, my love, there, there.”

Kathleen continued to sob, her tears wetting her husband’s chest. He could feel the dear head burying trustingly closer to him and relief flooded his body because the wet cheeks of his sobbing wife were no longer cold, they were flushed and warm. In fact, her body was hot and the clean white nightgown he had put on her was soaking with perspiration. She was going to be all right. Hunter continued to walk the floor, holding her close, whispering to her until at last the sobs subsided and she grew tired and calmer. Only then did Hunter walk to the bed and lay her gently down. He smiled at her and she tried to smile back. He sat beside her on the bed and leaned close, “Darling, I’m going to get you another nightgown.”

“Yes, Hunter,” she said, “I’ve ruined this one, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said and brought her another. She dutifully lifted her arms and he pulled the nightgown over her head. With no embarrassment on either part, Kathleen let her husband slip a clean nightgown over her naked body and she lay back on the bed to let him button it up and pull it down over her hips. “Thank you,” she whispered and Hunter trembled slightly and said, “You’re welcome, Kathleen” as he moved from the bed to the chair.

“Promise me you’ll stay,” she said and took his hand.

Both his hands covered hers and he whispered, “My darling, I will stay with you forever.”

“Hunter?” she said softly.

“Yes, Angel,” he said and leaned close to her face.

“I’m tired, I’m so tired,” she said and her eyes closed.

“I know, my darling, sleep. I’ll be right here beside you.”

As the last rays of an August sun streamed through the windows, Hunter sat by his wife’s bed in the semi-darkness, still holding to the tiny hand resting in his.

Without Kathleen asking him, Hunter came to her room every night. He sat beside her bed while she drifted off to sleep, promising to stay there should she awaken and need him. His presence helped her to sleep and when, on more than one occasion, she awoke with a start in the middle of the night, screaming in terror from the horrible nightmares she had started experiencing, Hunter was there in a chair by the bed, ready to reach out to her, to sit her on his lap, to hold her and rock her and pet her until she once again could go back to sleep. Then he would gently place her back in her bed and drop back into his chair to doze for the rest of the night. But one evening, her arms stayed around his neck and she murmured, “No, Hunter, don’t leave me, don’t.”

“I won’t, Daring, I’ll be right here in the chair beside you,” he assured her.

“No,” she said sleepily, “I need you to hold me while I sleep.”

“All right,” he whispered and laid down on the bed beside her. She snuggled close to him and immediately went peacefully to sleep. Hunter laid with his arm under her head, her face resting in the crook of his shoulder, so close he could feel her warm breath. He carefully put an arm around her waist and she moved closer to him, molding her small frame to his. With his tight trousers still on, his chest and feet bare, Hunter lay with his wife in his arms for the first time in years. Hunter didn’t go to sleep as quickly as Kathleen. Although the bed he now lay on was much more comfortable than the chair he’d been sleeping in, he found that the nearness of the woman he loved so much awakened all the love and passion he’d tried to put behind him. He felt almost guilty as he lay with her in his arms and let his hands run over the dear body while she trustingly slept pressed close to him. He sometimes wondered to himself if he were out of his mind because, as hard as he tried, he could not suppress the happy smile that came to his lips in the darkness as he kissed the silky blond hair falling carelessly into his face.

His sleeping in her bed quickly became a routine and he gladly lay down beside her each night without asking if he could. She seemed grateful to have him there and willingly put her arms around him as though they had always slept together. Hunter awoke one night after sleeping fitfully for an hour or so. Smiling as he always did when he awoke to find her in his arms, he bent down to kiss her forehead. It was hot, much too warm. He lifted his hand from her waist and put it to her cheek. She was burning up with fever. Hunter hurriedly slipped out of bed and leaned over her, “Darling,” he whispered, “Kathleen.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she licked her dry lips, “Hunter, I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, darling,” he said, “I know, I know.”

For the next three days, Kathleen was completely out of her head. Her fever raged in spite of anything her husband did for her. Not sleeping at all, Hunter stayed by her bedside night and day and refused to let anyone else take over for him no matter how exhausted he was. On the third day, when her fever still had not subsided, Hannah stood beside him, wringing her hands and saying, “Oh, that po’ baby gonna die. What we gonna do, Doctor Hunter, what we gonna do?”

“Hannah, she isn’t going to die, I will make her well. Now I want you to get a pan of cold water with ice in it and some alcohol. Bring it to me right away. The medication I’ve given her isn’t working, we must try something else right now.”

“Yes, suh,” Hannah sobbed and hurried from the room.

“Darling, darling,” Hunter whispered, “I love you, please don’t leave me, don’t.” Kathleen didn’t understand what he was saying. She was delirious and violent chills wracked her thin body. Her sick blue eyes looked at him, but she made not a sound. Hannah returned with the ice water and alcohol.

“Doctor Hunter, I take care of her, I bathe her and make her better.”

“No, Hannah, I want to do it. You go back and look after Scott.”

Hunter built a roaring fire in the already stifling room. He pulled all the curtains tightly closed and took off his shirt. He pulled the covers from her bed and removed the nightgown from Kathleen. Lovingly, he dipped clean cloths into the icy water and bathed every inch of her sick, hot body. He opened the alcohol and repeated his actions with it. All the time he bathed the burning skin, he begged in a soft voice, “Please, my darling, you must get well. I cannot live without you,” and the slender fingers continued to bathe and massage the fevered body, carefully sponging every precious part of her.

The bath completed, Hunter pulled the covers back over her. Then he stripped his own clothes off and got into bed with her. He held her chilled body to his and in a matter of minutes, due to the overheated room and exhaustion, Hunter fell asleep. He awoke as the sun was setting, his own body dripping with perspiration. Hunter put his lips to Kathleen’s cheek and felt a welcome coolness. He pulled back the covers. The body lying next to his was glistening wet. She was perspiring, the fever had broken. Elated, Hunter cried, “Darling!” He laughed when she opened her eyes to look at him. “You’re better,” he whispered, “Sweetheart, you’re going to be all right!”

Hunter pushed the covers to the foot of the bed as she whispered, “I’m hot, Hunter, very hot.”

“Yes, darling,” he laughed and hugged the slim, glistening body to his.

“I’m thirsty, Hunter,” she whispered against his chest.

“I’ll get you something nice and cold, darling,” he said and slipped out of the bed. He pulled on his trousers and turned back to Kathleen. He dropped on his knees and took her hand in his, “Stay just as you are, I’ll be right back,” and his happy hand went to her hip and slid completely down the white, shining thigh to her knee. He rose and hurriedly left the room while she smiled.

Kathleen improved daily and Hunter was by her bedside constantly. Jealously, he guarded his most precious patient and refused to let anyone do anything for her but him. Hannah was incensed and mumbled when she brought a tray of food up, “I could feed that chile myself. I always takes care of the sick folks in this house and I …”

“Hannah, there’s no need for that. I will feed Kathleen,” and Hunter would take the tray, set is across Kathleen’s lap, take his place on the bed, and patiently ladle every mouthful to her.

“I can feed myself, Hunter,” Kathleen said when she started feeling better.

“I know you can, darling, but I don’t want you overtiring yourself. I’m happy to do it for you,” and he meant it.

She was completely well within days and, although Hunter went back to his practice, he still spent each night in her room. Some nights he sat beside her bed, others he climbed in beside her and she put up no arguments. Hunter felt needed and wanted and he soon became hopeful that it was only a matter of time before they would be man and wife again, lovers.

Night after night passed and he slept in her room, her body curled to his. It began to be less pleasant and soon Hunter was not satisfied with the arrangement. She was well, he wanted her, could no longer stand to be so close and not possess her. One bedtime, he rose from his chair and, instead of lying down on her bed, he started for the door.

Surprised, Kathleen said, “Hunter, are you leaving? Aren’t you going to stay with me tonight?”

Hunter turned back to look at her and said in an even voice, “Kathleen, I would love to stay with you tonight and every night. But, darling, if I do, I am going to be more than just a comfort to you.” He stood completely still, barely daring to breathe, waiting for her answer, hope surging in his chest.

She looked at him for several minutes and softly said, “Hunter, I’m sorry, but I …”

Hunter turned, determined to hide the hurt in his eyes, and left the room.

Twenty-two

The deaths of Louis and Abigail brought about a great change in Kathleen’s life and in the whole Alexander household. But, theirs was not the only one in the south changing at this period in time. On a nippy October evening in 1859, a small band of men stormed the U.S. Arsenal at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, intent upon inciting the slaves to rise up against their southern masters. Tensions that had been mounting between the north and the south grew more intense after the incident. Everywhere she went, Kathleen heard talk of war. At a time when the slaves at Sans Souci needed the strong, firm hand of her father, her placid husband was now in charge of the plantation and would never raise his voice to anyone, including the slaves who he had always thought should be free men and women.

Hunter was a brilliant doctor, but he was no businessman and in a matter of months Kathleen could see a change already taking place on the big estate. Hunter was not really interested in running the plantation and left most of the decision-making in the hands of the overseer. The overseer, who had always respected and been half afraid of her father, grew lazy and lost interest himself. Hunter hurried to discharge any duties concerning the running of the cotton plantation as quickly as possible so he could get down to what really interested him, learning more about medicine, specifically his neverending search for a yellow fever cure. His patient load continued to grow and his kindness brought more and more overdue bills, as profits on other plantations fell and the people who were now late or did not pay him for his services were not just the poor people of Natchez, but some of the pillars of the community. Hunter could not bear the thought of asking them for the money and refused to turn away anyone in need of medical attention, even if they had not paid their bills in the past.

Kathleen understood her husband’s nature and no longer scolded him for being less than a shrewd businessman. She grew to admire her husband more with each passing day and no one understood his kindness better than she. The way he had babied and consoled her after the death of her parents was something she would never forget. She could not have made it if it had not been for Hunter. And what Hunter did not know was that, if she had not felt so terribly guilty over the night she spent with Dawson, she might have been ready to accept him as her lover. Sleeping with her husband through the long tortured nights after the accident had saved her sanity as well as her health and there had been a time or two when she had wanted to turn to him in the darkness and whisper, “Make love to me, Hunter,” but the horror of the tragedy for which she felt responsible was still too fresh in her mind, as was the fateful rendezvous with Dawson that preceded it. So she had sent Hunter away and he had never come back to her room. She missed him more than he would ever know and it seemed as time passed she missed him more not less.