by ML Gardner
“What is your name?” Cecile asked. His eyes lolled, unable to focus and he grunted something before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Cecile joined Charles and Elizabeth at the table and served herself a cup of coffee. She shivered with a chill despite the soft warm glow of the oil lamps set all about the room.
“How is he?” Elizabeth asked.
“He’s badly hurt. Besides lungs full of water, he’s badly cut on his back and chest. He’ll develop pneumonia, no doubt. I’ll do my best to keep an infection at bay. I’ll need another jar of honey from the cellar, Charles.” He nodded and hesitated to look up from his food.
“What’ll we do with him then?” he whispered.
“You did a good thing, Daddy. You’re not going to get into trouble. You saved a man’s life. You’re a hero.”
His eyes lit up and he smiled slowly. “I do hope he’ll be okay.”
“We’ll aim to see him better. After the storm passes and if he wakes up, we’ll call the sheriff to help him find his way home.”
They sat vigil through the night as the storm eased; trying to coax him to. A fever set in by morning and Cecile had a deeply concerted look on her face as she worked. She sponged him with cool water to bring down the fever and changed out the dressings on his wounds, smearing them with a light coating of honey before covering them with boiled strips of cloth.
“He needs something to help bring up the sickness,” she said, wiping her face with her sleeve. His body radiated so much heat that it made the room hot. His breathing was irregular and labored, his face flushed with red splotches. “If it were winter we could pack him with snow. There’s not much to do for summertime fevers.”
“What about Jan?” Charles suggested. “She might have something that would help. Perhaps she could make a concoction…a remedy.”
Cecile scoffed and stiffened. “There’s only one kind of medicine that woman specializes in, and I doubt it would do the young man here any good.” She eyed Charles and his addiction accusingly, then gave a passing glance at Elizabeth.
“It’s worth a try, Mother,” Elizabeth said. With their eyes on her and no other option to save the man’s life, she nodded her agreement to go to Jan for help.
She returned by mid afternoon with an amber bottle and went silently up the stairs to the young man, Elizabeth following closely behind. With a cool cloth, she talked to him, trying to stir him awake. After several moments, his eyes fluttered and opened slowly, revealing bloodshot brown eyes.
“Where am I?” he croaked weakly.
“My husband pulled you from the ocean. Your boat sank. You’re very sick.” She put a hand to his head and recoiled from the searing skin. “I have some medicine that might help,” she said, raising the spoon in offering. He looked confused as only his glassy and tired eyes moved about the room.
“Where am I?” he repeated.
“What’s your name, young man?” she asked, touching a cool cloth to his head, making him jump.
“That’s freezing,” he whispered.
“No, you’re burning up with fever. Now, open your mouth, take the medicine.” He did and grimaced at the foul liquid. “The worse it tastes, the better it works,” Cecile said with a glance at Elizabeth, who stood by the door, intently watching.
“What’s your name?” Cecile asked as she commenced a cold water sponge bath that quickly sent him into violent shivers, on the verge of losing consciousness again.
“It hurts,” he whispered as his eyelids slowly sank.
“Who are you, Son?” Cecile asked, shaking his shoulder to rouse him.
His eyes opened a slit, and he looked as if he were mustering every ounce of concentration he could.
“I don’t know,” he breathed and then slipped unconscious again. I heard Elizabeth’s quick draw of breath and looked over at her. Her eyes had narrowed, her mental wheels turning at full speed. I watched her as she intently deliberated something in her mind. She moved quickly and opened the bottom drawer of her vanity, pulling out her leather bound journal. Clutching it to her chest, she spun around and left the room. I followed her as she closed her bedroom door and sat on the side of the bed, hunched over the journal. She began writing furiously, concentrating intently. Her body rocked and I could hear the rough scratching of the heavily pressed pen tip on the paper. I was instantly irritated, taken back to bad memories of the doctor’s office.
“I don’t know why I had to bring him to you,” I told her. “And now that it’s done, I need to leave.” I leaned my head back on the wall. She finished a hasty writing session and then rose, seemingly at peace again, apparently having gotten something off her mind. I still thought about reading it, but something always stopped me. Having my privacy invaded so many times had left me with a deep respect of the privacy of others. Still, I longed to know what she was writing, what she was thinking. Were thoughts and memories of me anywhere in that journal? She pushed the journal under the edge of her mattress and left the room. I stared at the spot for several moments, then sighed and followed her out.
Aryl woke several times over the next two days, delusional with fever, weak and dehydrated. Cecile managed to get him to take a few sips of water whenever he woke and ask him yet again, who he was. Each time he answered the same.
A whispered, almost anguished, “I don’t know.”
I spent time sitting at the foot of his bed and talked to him when no one else was in the room. I didn’t know if he could hear me, if he would remember my words as a fever induced delusional dream, but I talked regardless. I told him all about me, Elizabeth and how I had seen him in visions for months. I admitted I didn’t know how he was supposed to help Elizabeth, but he would and I was grateful for it. Even though he was well built and attractive, I didn’t feel the violent jealousy I felt with Daniel. I explained I would leave and I would have to entrust Elizabeth to him.
Cecile entered the room with a tray of medicine and clean cloths, and Elizabeth quickly appeared.
“Tomorrow I can go into town and talk to the sheriff and the newspaper–”
“No, you won’t,” Elizabeth said calmly. She sat on the side of the bed, placed a hand softly on his knee, and watched his face adoringly. “He’s mine. I’m keeping him.”
“He belongs somewhere, Elizabeth. He must have a family, people who miss him. Your father told you we would only see him recovered.”
“I want to be here when he wakes up,” she said with resolve, ignoring her mother.
Elizabeth’s narrowed eyes suspiciously watched her mother leave the room. She turned to the young man, pulled his hand out from under the covers and held it, stroking the back of it with her fingers. The gold band on his ring finger caught her eye and she played with it, spinning it around his finger while deep in thought. She decided quietly as she worked the ring off.
“I’m sorry. I need you more.” She held the ring up to examine it in the dim light. She placed his hand on his stomach, noticing that the white stripe of flesh gleamed in contrast to his tanned and work-weathered finger.
The band was wide and gold, thick and of good quality. She slipped it onto her own finger and caught sight of an engraving. Walking over to the lamplight, she tilted her hand until she could see it clearly. The extra width of the band accommodated the engraving. The outline was that of a lighthouse with two hearts engraved on each side of it; an A set in the center of one heart and a C set in the center of the other.
I didn’t understand why I was to deliver Aryl to her and I didn’t understand the odd way she claimed him as if he were a lost and hungry puppy. I only had the sense that there was nothing left for me to do. Having completed my task, I knew that it was time. When the portal opened tonight at midnight, I would leave.
I waited until after dark to say my private goodbye to Elizabeth. The house now hushed and settled for the evening, I watched her hunch over her journal again in her room. She wore overalls and boots, her hair tucked up under her father’s hat. She laughed occasio
nally, low and gruff as she scribbled. Curiosity was driving me mad. What was she writing while she was dressed in her father’s work clothes? Was it different than when she wore the dress she tried on for me, the one she wanted to wear for our wedding? I walked over behind her, staring at the back of her head.
“Mind if I take a peek?” I asked politely. She moved her arm over her book, protecting her writing in answer. That made me even more curious. I craned my neck and peeked over her shoulder. I could see the center of the page above where she was writing, read a few sentences and then froze; my eyes wide, my breath caught and fear ran in cold prickles up and down my spine.
Daniel wouldn’t play along. Daniel had to die. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I pulled his head back and kissed him, caressing the side of his neck, feeling for the pulse. It was quick, the pull of the knife across the skin, much like trimming the hides with father. I held his head back and put my hand over the wound, feeling the life drain from him. It was different from the last time. I was in control.
This one is a blank slate. This one will be who I want him to be. And if he won’t–
“My God, Elizabeth, what have you done?”
I looked back toward the bedroom where Aryl lay helpless. “What have I done?”
I knew now that I couldn’t leave. I had to save them both.
MLG
Read on for a preview of 1930 Book Two Aryl’s Divide
February 17th 1931
Gordon finished his route early and stopped to buy flowers before heading over to Claire’s. He had the ring in his pocket but gave his leg a pat, checking for the tenth time that it was still there. It was a simple silver band, but one day he hoped to have a diamond put on it for her.
He knocked on her door feeling more nervous than the first time he came calling on her. They both knew it was coming, it wouldn’t be a surprise. But it was still nerve-wracking. He cleared his throat, adjusted his shirt and straightened his posture as he heard someone on the other side of the door. Maura opened it with a smile.
“Hello, Gordon, how are ye today?”
“Good. I’m well. Is Claire here?”
“Of course. Close as she is, I’m not letting her wander. She’s just upstairs.”
“That’s good. Can I see her please?” His stiff posture and darting eyes gave away the intent of his visit. Maura grinned as she turned away, leaning into the stairwell to call Claire.
She came downstairs a moment later. She walked with a slow and awkward wobble.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. “Were you coming over for dinner tonight?” Claire asked with a look to Maura, questioning if she had forgotten the date.
“No, I just came to see you.” He remembered the flowers and held them out. “And to give you these.”
Maura’s lips were pursed up in excitement. “I’ll just step out now,” she said quietly.
“No, Maura. Stay. I’d like you to. After all, you’re responsible.”
“She’s responsible for what?” Claire asked.
“I wanted to do this earlier. Last Saturday night, actually, at the Valentine’s dance. I had it all planned out but, well, things got…interesting, as Jon put it, and the right time never came.”
“The right time for what?” Claire asked.
“It would have been so much better last Saturday. The mood and the music, the atmosphere and all your friends there, it just didn’t work out that way.”
“What didn’t?”
He pulled the ring out of his pocket, took a step toward her and smiled, bashful and terrified.
Claire’s eyes widened. Though she had been expecting it, eventually, she wasn’t prepared for the fact that it was happening right now.
He lowered to one knee. “Will you marry me?” he asked, and held his breath.
She nodded with a modest smile. She felt the sting of tears, not for the emotion of this moment, but because she vividly remembered the last time she was asked to be someone’s wife. This paled in comparison to the intensity of that moment with Aryl and she had to push the memory away.
He stood, put the ring on her finger and smiled. An awkward moment lingered, and Maura offered to make drinks to celebrate.
Ian congratulated Maura on a job well done as he joined them at the table. They set a date, and began to make plans for a simple spring wedding.
It was then that something began to bother Maura. This had been her life’s work recently, seeing Gordon and Claire to this moment, making sure Claire and her babe would be cared for, and she could find her way to a happy life. It had all worked according to plan and she should have been overjoyed with herself and the situation. She gazed out the kitchen window, tuning out the others, trying to figure out exactly what it was that nagged at her.
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Reading the series in order:
1929 Book One-Jonathan’s Cross
Elizabeth’s Heart Book Two
1930 Book-Three Aryl’s Divide
Drifter Book Four
M.L. Gardner Works in Progress include:
Purgatory Cove Book Five
1931 Book Six-Caleb’s Err
Simon’s Watch Book Seven
A 1929 Christmas Special (Release date November 10th, 2013)
Reclaiming Katie
Other books by M.L. Gardner:
Simply, Mine
Short Stories from 1929
Table of Contents
Copyrights
Dedication
Other books
Prologue
Dreams
Visions
Illusions
Divide
