Nathan's Nurse

by Zina Abbott

  “I’m happy to hear he stopped by. What did he do that was a solution?”

  Dahlia’s gaze captured those of the three men who stood at the foot of the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rilla, Cat, and Andrea as they filled the doorway and took turns sticking their heads into the room. “It has to do with how we married. Perhaps we can let these gentlemen and their wives go back home, and I can tell you what I know. If you still have questions, maybe they can fill you in when they come back during the week to check on you.”

  Setting the bowl of soup on the chair Harold had brought in for her, Dahlia turned to their guests. “Thank you so much for coming over and for your support.”

  The room erupted into a cacophony of well wishes and farewells as Dahlia followed the three couples to the back door and closed it behind them. She reentered the bedroom and picked up the bowl to feed Nathan.

  “I can feed myself. Been doing it for years.”

  Upon hearing the cranky tone in Nathan’s voice, Dahlia sat and eased the bowl to her lap. She refused to feel offended and kept her voice calm and reassuring. “All right. But, just in case your arms and hands decide they don’t want to cooperate with you, I’m staying right here. I’d rather finish feeding you instead of your soup ending up all over your bedding.”

  Dahlia ignored the man’s disgruntled expression as he positioned his arms to take the bowl and spoon.

  Nathan managed two bites before the hand holding the bowl began to tremble.

  Dahlia snatched it from him and held it in place as he used his other hand to take several more bites.

  He dropped the spoon in the bowl and turned his face away.

  “Are you full, Nathan?” She waited out his silence.

  “Not really. It’s just that I can’t believe I can’t hold a bowl and spoon without feeling like I’m going to drop it.”

  Dahlia walked to the other side of the bed, scooped up some soup, and held it in front of his lips. “Please, eat this, Nathan. It’s the only way you are going to regain your strength. I know it’s watery, but I made this before you regained consciousness. I’ll prepare more solid food for you tomorrow. If this stays down well, I’ll bring you a piece of soft bread with jam.” She waited until he overcame what she guessed was his embarrassment and opened his mouth. With his mouth full, she took the opportunity to reassure him. “You have no idea how seriously you were injured, or you would better appreciate what great progress you have made. I’m just so grateful that, in so short a time after regaining consciousness, you respond well to conversation and seem to have all your mental faculties.”

  Nathan swallowed and barked out a laugh. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how muddled my thoughts are, not to mention, there is so much I can’t remember. I don’t remember you at all.” His gaze met hers, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Dahlia forced a smile, one she hoped he interpreted to be that she understood. Of course, he didn’t recognize her—he had never seen her before. He still needed to put back together the puzzle pieces of the twelve lost days of his life before he could place her and realize how she fit into it. “Don’t be sorry. Even if right now you can’t remember writing to me and asking me to come here to marry you, it will come back to you.”

  A thought occurred. Dahlia picked up the stack of letters on top of the chest of drawers and held the papers up for him to see. “Do you recognize these, Nathan? They’re from me, addressed to you.”

  As he stared at them, Nathan squinted. “I still can’t see as well. I can’t read the writing on them.”

  Dahlia held them to her nose and sniffed. Much of the scent had dissipated, but enough remained. She stuck the letters beneath Nathan’s nose. “Breathe in, Nathan. Do you recall the scent of my father’s pipe tobacco on my letters?” She waited while he leaned his head forward and inhaled before she continued. “I never noticed, since I was so used to it, but your friend, Charlie, who brought your belongings to the house, pointed it out to me. He thought I was the one who smoked a pipe.”

  Nathan’s head fell back against his pillow as a wide smile spread on his face. “Charlie. I remember that. I kept telling him there must be another explanation for why your letters smelled of pipe tobacco. Nothing you wrote led me to think you smoked a pipe yourself. He refused to believe me. He and Buzzard stirred up a big ruckus about it.”

  Elation swelled within Dahlia. In her heart, she blessed Charlie and Albert for making an issue of the odor on her correspondence. By bringing it to her attention, she had used it as a key to open a door to Nathan’s memory. “Do you remember now? Do you remember asking me to marry you?”

  Nathan turned his striking blue eyes to face her. “No. Not yet. However, remembering now how I felt about you after receiving your first letters, I don’t doubt that I did.” He looked away and stared at the faint light of dusk that still illuminated the window. His face clouded with emotions or thoughts Dahlia could not discern. He looked down at his hands, lifted them a few inches, and then closed his eyes as they dropped on top of his blanket. “I feel next to helpless. If I did send for you, Dahlia, you didn’t agree to this when you came. I can’t ask you to give up your life to take care of an invalid.”

  Dahlia knew Nathan would battle depression and discouragement as he dealt with his injuries. It was as important for him to overcome that as much as his physical wounds. “After I found out about your injuries, I agreed of my own free will to marry you. It was what I wanted. You are not going to stay like this, Nathan. As your body heals, we are going to work together to restore your health as much as possible to what it was before the accident.”

  “If it’s possible.” Nathan closed his eyes and said nothing for several seconds. “Tell me again how it came about that we married. What did Herbert have to do with it?”

  Dahlia found Nathan remembering an earlier comment about his brother having played a role in the marriage reassuring. She chose her words carefully, but explained how they had wed by proxy—how she stood in the church with Herbert while Nathan lay unconscious on a bed in Dr. Sprague’s infirmary. When she finished, she rose and took the bowl to the kitchen to give him time to think about it. She lit an oil lamp and brought it back into the room with her. Afraid that if he fell asleep, he might slip back into a coma, she hoped the light would help Nathan stay awake and alert a little longer.

  Nathan opened his eyes and turned his gaze toward her. “I don’t see how that makes us married. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  Knots of worry tightened Dahlia’s stomach. She realized she needed to tell him the rest of it. “Although Pastor Alwin agreed with Royce Bainbridge that it was better for me that the men in town saw me as a married woman, he had his reservations about the marriage. He pointed out that in a true proxy marriage, the two parties might be separated by distance, but each do come before an authorized figure and speak their vows. They each are conscious of the promises and commitments they are making to the intended spouse. In our case, I made those promises and commitments to you with Herbert standing in as proxy. However, you did not.”

  “What are you saying? You’re married to me, but I’m not married to you?”

  Dahlia fought back tears. “Technically, our marriage is legal. Our names are recorded on the pastor’s marriage journal with Herbert signing on your behalf. However, Pastor Alwin wants to be assured you are also consciously agreeable and committed to this marriage. If you are, he wishes for us to reaffirm our vows before him and for you to sign your name over Herbert’s. And if not…” Dahlia swallowed, knowing she must speak the words even as her heart cried out in an attempt to prevent them from leaving her mouth. “…his instructions were that we are not to become intimate until you make your decision, and we reaffirm our marriage vows. If you decide against this marriage, Nathan, then Pastor Alwin says it is reasonable that we seek an annulment.”

  Dahlia feared the silence that followed would stretch out forever.

  Nathan spoke so softly, she barely
heard him. “I see. Can I be alone now, please?”

  Dahlia fought to contain the turmoil of emotions churning within her. “Certainly, Nathan. I’ve given you a lot to think about. I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”

  Leaving the lamp on the chest of drawers, Dahlia returned to the kitchen. She felt as though a great weight pressed down on her. She lit a second oil lamp, stepped into the wash room long enough to change to her everyday dress, and began to tidy up. However, she felt no tidiness or order within her heart.

  He’s not happy about me being his wife. He doesn’t want me.

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  Chapter 23

  ~o0o~

  December 26, 1881

  D ahlia woke on Monday morning feeling more aches than she had since she started sleeping on the floor. She suspected the cause had to do with the tension over the situation between her and Nathan. She had left him the night before when he requested it, only to return twice to offer him broth and water. Both times, he refused. She realized it had to do more with his concern about her being the only person around to help him use the chamber pot than him not being thirsty. At least he ate the slice of bread spread with plum jam she fed to him.

  This morning, she needed to throw her clothes on, put away her bedding, and fix his breakfast. She wished she had an egg. However, a bowl of oatmeal mush sweetened with sugar would have to do—that and more beef broth, since she had no milk or butter for the cereal.

  Dahlia peeked into the bedroom. “Good morning. I’ll have something for you to eat in a few minutes.”

  Nathan turned his head toward her, his eyes wide open. “Thanks. I’ve been awake for hours. I…um…”

  Dahlia guessed his concern. “Nathan, I’m going to bring you a crock jug which I hope you can use in bed. When I used to care for my father, he preferred that to trying to get down to the chamber pot when all he needed was to relieve his bladder.”

  Nathan shook his head, his embarrassment evident. “I need to be able to get to the necessary myself.”

  “We’ll start you sitting on the side of the bed first. If you can do that without losing your balance, we’ll work on getting you to a chair, and then on your feet. Our neighbors got the necessary set up and cleared the path between there and the house. However, it may be several days before you can make your way to the necessary.”

  That issue resolved and breakfast fed to him, Dahlia hoped for a visit from Dr. Sprague. She suspected Declan, who had stopped by before going to work to talk with Nathan some more, would leave a message for him and Royce Bainbridge informing them Nathan awakened from his coma.

  As soon as she opened the back door following the first knock of the day, Angus Sprague burst through and shucked his jacket.

  “How’s he doing? He wake up again this morning?”

  “I’m awake. Is that you, Doc?”

  As she noted the strength of Nathan’s voice coming from the bedroom, Dahlia smiled.

  Both entered the room to find Nathan with his right arm flung across his eyes.

  The doctor moved to the left side of the bed. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

  “I’m feeling pretty good, except I’m far too weak, my shoulder and neck ache something fierce, and this light coming through the window is blinding me.”

  “A sensitivity to light is to be expected after what you’ve been through. Here, let me examine you to see where you are in your recovery.”

  Dahlia took that as her cue to give the two men their privacy. She also realized she needed to come up with some kind of curtain over the bedroom windows to keep the direct sunlight, or even the glare of outside light, from bothering Nathan’s eyes. She sighed at her lack of decent material. She had rigged up some of the thin rope she bought across the windows in the kitchen and used them for drying towels and the flannel as well as serving as curtains. As soon as the doctor left, she would put nails on either side of the bedroom windows, string some rope, and drape more cloth to fashion curtains.

  While the two men talked, Dahlia prepared coffee in the kitchen. However, one of Nathan’s questions caught her attention. She stepped closer to hear.

  “How soon before I can get on my feet so I can use the necessary, Doc? I hate being bed-bound like this.”

  “Most people don’t like being bed-bound, but you still need to spend a lot of time there to allow your head and shoulder to heal properly. Sit up as much as you can without straining yourself. I’ll bring some crutches and a cane for when you want to try to stand. But you still need more sleep than usual while you’re healing.”

  “What do I need crutches for? From what I can tell, my feet and legs are fine.”

  Dahlia smiled as, through his complaint, she heard the laugh in Nathan’s voice.

  “Balance. The brain is a temperamental organ when it gets injured, and I’ve already explained what Dr. Adams and I ended up doing to drain that blood clot and keep you with us. Thankfully, you’re healing well from that and will have a dandy battle scar to give you bragging rights. However, there is also the issue of ear injuries, especially the part deep in your head. Sometimes, an infection or injury can affect a person’s balance. Give yourself a few more weeks to heal. Use those crutches any time you try to stand. Once you feel steadier on your feet, take that cane everywhere with you for a few weeks, just in case.”

  Dahlia entered the bedroom holding two cups of coffee and handed one to the doctor.

  “Easy on the coffee with your husband, Mrs. Price. I don’t want him staying awake all day and night when he still needs plenty of sleep. I’d wait until he’s been able to keep solid food down. Although, if his head starts hurting, you might offer him a cup then.”

  Her eyes glowing, Dahlia laughed. “He ate bread and jam last night and mush this morning. He’ll have chicken for dinner, and I plan to make a trip to the mercantile to see if Desi has any eggs so I can fix them for supper tonight and breakfast tomorrow.” She turned her gaze to Nathan. “He’s already eating solid food.”

  “That’s wonderful. He has turned the corner and is well on his way to recovery.” The doctor shook his finger in Nathan’s direction. “Just don’t try to do too much too soon.”

  The doctor no sooner left and Dahlia had barely rigged up a covering on the window facing east when Royce Bainbridge arrived.

  Royce offered her the usual pleasantries before he got to the purpose of his visit. “How’s your husband doing, Mrs. Price? Is he still awake this morning?”

  “I’m awake.” Nathan’s voice echoed from the bedroom. “Is that Mr. Bainbridge?”

  Dahlia had to walk fast to keep up with Royce as he rushed to the bedroom.

  Royce entered and sat on the chair to Nathan’s right. “Good to see you’ve rejoined us, Nathan. Declan stopped by and gave me the good news.”

  “I’m doing better. I’m ready to get out of this bed and get back to work, but Doc says it will be at least a month, maybe two, before I can even think about working in the mine. I have to make sure my head and shoulder are healed, and I have good balance.”

  Royce harrumphed and looked off to the side. “Well, you know I can use you back in the mine as soon as possible. It’s good things around here are slow in the winter, considering I’m short-handed now. I heard from Gus Braun. His two broken legs are healing all right, but he’s decided his mining days are over. However, I think Spencer’s broken leg is going to be healed enough he plans to return to the mine in two to three weeks. If Angus Sprague says you can do lighter work by then, you can take over his job of caring for the donkeys and other livestock until you’re ready for the mine. It’s less pay than mine work, but it’s something.”

  “I appreciate that, Mr. Bainbridge. I sure don’t like the idea of my wife taking in mending to provide some support for us while I’m a lay-about in bed all day. Anything will help.”

  “Then you need to concentrate on getting healed up as fast as you can. Most
things feel like they’re getting back to normal? I noticed your hearing’s good.”

  “Back of my head and neck still hurt, plus my shoulder aches. I’m still pretty weak, but at least I could hold my own bowl without dropping it this morning. My eyesight is still a little fuzzy, but better than last night.”

  “Eyes are still fuzzy, huh? Does that mean you haven’t been able to get a good look at the pretty woman who married you?”

  Her face heating with what she knew was a blush, Dahlia, who had been listening while standing in the corner, looked over at Nathan. She watched him drop his smile as his gaze sought her out.

  “I’ve seen her form, and I know she has honey-blonde hair. Yesterday she wore pink, and today she’s wearing brown.”

  “You haven’t been able to see her face clearly yet?”

  Quirking up the side of his mouth, Nathan shook his head. “No, not yet. I don’t have to see her clearly to know she’s a beautiful woman inside. I’ll take everyone else’s word she’s also pretty on the outside.”

  Clutching her hands together, Dahlia felt tears well up within her as she stared at her husband. Maybe he isn’t as displeased as I thought that I’m here and he’s tied to me.

  Royce nodded. “You did well when you chose her to be your wife, Nathan. It’s been a real bonus that she also has the nursing skills you need right now.”

  “I heard Herbert played a role in getting us married. Does he know I’ve regained consciousness?”

  Royce cleared his throat. “I don’t know, Nathan. I’ll be honest with you. He no longer works for the Prosperity Mine. I know he didn’t do it maliciously, but it turns out that he was the one who set off the blast that caused the collapse in which you and the other two men were injured. I can’t keep someone like that working in my mine.”