by Rose Gordon
“I know,” she said quietly. Gabriel's use of a cane would make it impossible to juggle a basin of water and bandages. “Here, have him put this on while I go get the water.”
Her brother took the jar of salve from her and went back into the parlor while Carolina went downstairs and gathered a basin of water and a white sheet they could tear.
She draped the sheet over her arm and held onto the outer edge of the basin with both hands, walking slowly so it wouldn't spill.
“Where do you want me—”
Her words were cut off with the most awful, wretched sound she'd ever heard as John cast up his breakfast in one of Mother's potted plants.
“Well, if she didn't hate me already, she will now,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning backward. He winced when his bare back hit the back of the settee.
“You need to be in bed,” Father said matter-of-factly.
John gave his head a single shake. “No. I'm sure I'll be fine now that I've ridded my body of the unidentifiable slop I was served for breakfast.”
Silence enveloped the room. Carolina knew his words were meant as a lighthearted jest, but to her they were anything but. She'd argued with her mother mercilessly over the years to allow the field hands the supplies necessary to make better meals for themselves. But just like every other time she'd spoken to her mother, she'd been sent away with a sharp word and a smarting cheek.
“Nevertheless,” Father began in a voice that sounded as if there was a pound of gravel in his throat, “you need to lie down.”
Although she thought he might, John didn't offer another weak protest. Instead, his eyes were almost closed and his face was completely relaxed.
“Lina, go find Lamar and tell him we need his help,” Gabriel said.
Carolina's skin prickled.
“Lamar's not here,” Father said. “Your mother sent him to Charleston with Dalton.”
“You'll have to help me get him down the hall, Lina,” Gabriel said. He walked over to where John appeared to be nearing sleep on the far end of the settee and set his cane down.
Carolina put her basin and sheet down on the end table and joined her brother. Careful not to hurt him too badly with her touch, she helped Gabriel pull John to his feet. Gabriel put one arm around John's waist and pulled John's arm around his shoulders for support, then grabbed his cane again. Carolina tried to mirror the stance then nodded to Gabriel when she was ready to start walking.
Gabriel took a wobbly step first, then Carolina. John, it would seem, was so nearly passed out, his feet slipped from under him when he tried to walk.
“Keep going,” Gabriel said; his face contorted with pain.
Carolina continued to walk, heedless of John's inability to walk himself. His heavy arm wrapped around her shoulders, only made heavier by his deadweight, made it impossible to walk very quickly. She could only imagine how much Gabriel must be hurting.
Since he'd returned home, Gabriel had been staying with Father in what used to be the less formal parlor. Neither could navigate the stairs in their condition, and with no bedrooms on the first floor, the only option had been to convert a common room into a bedroom. Unfortunately, there wasn't another such room that could easily be compromised, so until something else could be arranged, the two had to share. And if Carolina didn't know any better, she was certain those two would be sharing that room with someone else tonight.
“Let's put him on my bed,” Gabriel said with a grunt.
Carolina nodded her response.
With another series of grunts and a few vile curses Carolina would have never thought Gabriel capable of uttering, they managed to get John into the bed, lying on his stomach.
“His back is burned far worse than his chest,” Gabriel explained.
Carolina righted her gown and went back to the parlor to get the water, salve and sheet. As she neared the door, another series of vile curses floated to her ear. She walked back into the room. “What has come over you?” she insisted.
Gabriel at least had the manners to look shamefaced for his foul words. He gestured to John. “Could you just see to him, please?”
“Of course,” she set the basin of water down on Gabriel's nightstand. “Can you tear this cloth for me?”
Gabriel took the fabric and sat down on the bed while Carolina uncorked the jar of salve. Dipping three fingers into the large mouth of the jar, she took a large scoop of the ointment then brought her hand to John's shoulders where the burns were the worst.
A small sigh of relief escaped John's parted lips, and despite her irritation with the insufferable man, she smiled.
“Does that really help anything?” Gabriel asked, not looking up from where he was shredding the sheet.
“The salve?”
A grunt was his only response.
“I believe so, yes.”
A hush fell over the room and Carolina continued to apply the salve. When it appeared she had covered the worst of his burns with the ointment, she recorked the jar and reached for the fabric Gabriel had separated. It was still in rather large pieces, so she doubled it over then dunked it in the water basin at her side. She gently squeezed it to get out some of the extra water, but not too much, and then placed the strip of wet fabric on John's back.
He groaned in response. She picked up another section of cloth and did the same thing. From beneath his heavy eyelids, John made eye contact with her then lost the battle of keeping them open.
She blushed when she caught sight of Gabriel watching her stare at John.
“He's a good man,” Gabriel said softly when a series of low snores filled the room.
Carolina lowered her lashes. “Just not good enough for me?”
“I never said that.”
“Then are you trying to insinuate that I'm not good enough for him?”
“No.”
“Then what's the problem?” she blurted. “What have you against us marrying?”
“I never said that I didn't approve of the two of you marrying.” He hiked his right trouser leg up, exposing the wooden leg underneath.
She jerked her eyes away so not to embarrass him by looking at his leg and turned her attention back to where John's tan, chiseled face rested on the white pillow. “You didn't have to say anything. Your interference this morning was quite enough.”
Gabriel sighed. “Lina, you cannot throw yourself at the man and expect him to take notice of you. At least not in the way you'd like.”
Carolina cast a scowl in her brother's direction, praying the man in question couldn't hear them. “I wasn't throwing myself at him; I was bringing him water like Bethel said.”
“And the picnic?”
Carolina blushed. “That was Bethel's idea, too.”
Gabriel unbuckled the straps that held his wooden leg in place just above his knee. Carolina sucked in a quick breath. His skin was a red color that rivaled John's sunburn. Immediately, Carolina handed him her salve to rub on his raw skin.
“Since when did you start asking Bethel advice regarding gentlemen?” he asked as he applied the salve.
“Since I don't know how to get him to put aside his pride and admit he wants to marry me. That's when.”
Gabriel stared blankly at her. “Well, if that was your plan, then you were certainly going about it the wrong way.” His face contorted in pain.
“Well, it's not like you or anyone else around here was inclined to give me advice. Besides, she did get Silas' attention, didn't she?”
“John's a gentleman, not a field hand, Lina. You have to be more subtle.”
She bit her lip. “So then what should I do?”
“Be more subtle,” he said, as if that explained everything. He touched what must have been a particularly painful spot on his thigh and grimaced. “You can bring him the water but don't stay to talk to him. Just hand it to him then leave.”
Leave? That was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. “I can't just leave. He'll try to give the water back if I do that.”
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“Yes, but he'll have to chase after you to do so, won't he?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“And that's what you want, Lina. You need to create a situation where he's the one pursuing you.”
“How do I do that?”
“I already told you,” he grumbled, buckling the straps again. “When you see him, only give him a little sampling of what he can have. Then leave and make him chase after you.”
Carolina idly chewed her lip. “I think I can do that.”
Gabriel pushed to his feet with a grimace. “I'd never doubt a clever girl like you could.”
~Chapter Fourteen~
John needed to retch.
And just his luck, there was no proper receptacle nearby.
With a groan, he reached under the edge of the bed and felt for the chamberpot. His fingers brushed against something hard and cold. He used the last of his strength to slide it out from under the bed then emptied the remaining contents of his stomach into it.
He groaned again. He hated being sick. Had he remembered this particular aftereffect of spending too much time in the sun, he just might have taken his chances and come out of that water to get dressed sooner. He buried his face in his pillow. He owed Carolina an apology, and not just for this morning, for yesterday, too. He'd been most unkind to her. He might not understand her fascination with him, and he certainly didn't welcome it, but that was no cause to speak to her that way.
“Would you like some water?” a familiar voice said from the door.
John turned his head to the side. “Please.”
The fabric of Carolina's thick skirts swished as she walked across the room to him.
Grimacing, John turned onto his side. “Thank you.”
She handed him the water. “You're welcome.”
“Carolina, I've been meaning to talk to you about yesterday.”
Her face reddened. “Please, don't speak of it. I should have left when I saw that you were swimming. I'm sorry for not doing so.”
“Don't apologize. I'm the one who called you to the shore.” He set the glass of water down on the nightstand. “I was wrong for what I said yesterday.”
She nodded once. “So then you don't lust after me?”
Despite the flames that seemed to have begun licking his face in the last second, he held her gaze and swallowed. “No, that part is true. I certainly have a physical attraction to you. I cannot deny that. But what I meant was that I was wrong for telling you that. I should have chosen my words more carefully.”
“Ah, that's the thing about words, isn't it? They have this unnatural ability to cut deeper than a knife.” She shrugged and walked to the door. “Not to worry, you didn't hurt my feelings yesterday,” she said softly, then left.
John didn't believe her but was too tired to call her back to argue with her. With a silent vow that he'd apologize again and make it right later, he lay back down and closed his eyes.
A few hours later, he was awakened by the touch of delicate fingers sweeping the hair from his forehead.
“Carolina,” he grumbled, opening one eye.
“Hmm?” She wasn't looking at him but at where her hands were on the cloth by the basin. She pulled a large white piece of cotton from the water and began to fold it.
“What are you doing with that?”
She didn't answer him, or if she did, he didn't hear her answer. A minute later she pressed something cold and wet to his forehead and cheek. “You have a fever,” she said quietly. “Do you still feel nauseous?”
“No; just tired.”
“Rest, then,” she murmured, gently scratching his head with her nails.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
“You like this?” she asked.
A half-grunt, half-groan was the best answer he could form.
He heard her lips form a smile. “Then I should send Bethel in. She does it far better than I do.”
If he had another ounce of energy, he would have shaken his head in protest. He didn't want Bethel to scratch his head. He wanted her. Carolina.
What felt like only minutes later, he was being awakened again.
“Drink,” she said, handing him a glass.
He took a sip then handed it back before falling against the pillows again, hoping she'd scratch his head the way she'd done last time.
Carolina didn't say anything as she resumed her seat on the edge of his bed and gently ran her fingernails across his scalp in the most relaxing and enjoyable way imaginable.
“Don't stop,” he said into his pillow a few minutes later when Carolina's hand had stilled. Or perhaps he only dreamt he said it because she did stop and quietly quit the room. Afterward, he slowly drifted back to sleep.
A little while later, he gradually awakened to soft footfalls in the hallway: Carolina.
An uncontrollable sense of ease and pleasure came over him knowing she was close. “What have you brought with you this time?” John asked without opening his eyes.
“A bedpan,” said a deep voice.
John snapped his eyes open to find a grinning Gabriel standing right in front of him, holding a bedpan. “I don't need it,” he grumbled, closing his eyes again.
“I'll just leave it here in case you do.” Gabriel set it down by the basin of water then walked to the door. “Oh, just so you know, I'll not be allowing Lina to come back in here to see you until you've used that. Either you use it now, or Bethel can help you later. I'd hate for Lina to be subjected to a life of misery with an unhappy groom because she sees something she shouldn't while trying to help you.”
“You're enjoying this far too much,” John grumbled against his pillow. Gabriel had lost a leg in the war; surely he knew how enjoyable it was to have a lady take care of him. Gabriel was just doing this to torture John—and worst of all, it was working.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Is there something you require?”
“Yes, I believe I require you to help me empty my bladder.”
“Is that necessary?” Gabriel asked, the color in his cheeks heightening.
“You're the one who insisted I use it. I would have been more than content to wait for you to leave to use the chamberpot.” John grinned at him the best he could, considering how much he hurt and how sick he felt.
“Then see that you do,” Gabriel said, taking a seat on his father's bed. “You two deserve each other. You do know that, don't you?”
John's grin faded. “I already told you, Gabriel. It's not that I find her personality disagreeable. It's just that I can't marry her.”
“Because she chased after you, you can't marry her?”
John closed his eyes. “No. It's complicated.”
Gabriel shrugged and stretched his legs out in front of himself. “I haven't got anything else to do this afternoon.”
If he were anyone else, John would test him on that. He’d just ignore his guest and lie there until he fell asleep. But like John, Gabriel was a persistent sort and would likely be there waiting for his answer when he awoke later. “I can't take her to England with me.”
“Do you think she won't go?”
John snorted. “No, she'd go. She'd probably even offer to swim beside the boat if she thought the only reason I wouldn't take her was lack of funds for her passage.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I can't take her because she wouldn't fit in.”
“You mean because she's an American?”
“Partially; see, ladies there are quiet and reserved. They speak when spoken to and would never dream of plopping down and eating a picnic while watching a man tread water wearing nary a stitch of clothing. They sleep until noon then spend the rest of their day in the drawing room sewing or taking calls. If they have a charitable pursuit, they'll do whatever is necessary to keep up with that and the rest of the time they keep to themselves.”
“And all the ladies in England are like this?”
“Well, not all,” John said with a scowl. “Some aren't, but those are very rare, a
nd they usually remain unmarried or are packed off to live in a country estate where they cannot be an embarrassment to their husbands.”
Gabriel shook his head. “That sounds very tedious to me.” The pity in his voice was unmistakable.
“No, it's the way it is. But now you know why I couldn't take Carolina with me.”
“She does have a tendency to make sure everyone knows she exists, doesn't she?” Gabriel said with a rueful grin. “I'll let you rest now,” he said, standing. He walked to the door and paused. “Next time I see Lina, I'll tell her it's fine for her to come to see you—but only if she wants to.”
***
“Don't go in that room again for the rest of the day.”
Carolina looked up. “I hadn't planned to. He needs to rest if he wants to get better soon.”
Gabriel didn't look convinced. “I know you, Lina. But I'm telling you, if you want to keep his interest, you won't go in there for the rest of the day.”
Keep his interest? She wasn't even sure she had it.
“Lina? Are you listening to me?”
“Yes,” she murmured, barely looking up at him. “You told me not to go in there. But it seems you didn't hear me when I told you that I hadn't planned to.”
“And what are you planning?”
Carolina pressed her lips together. She couldn't very well tell him she had nothing planned to get his attention once he was well again, even if it was the truth. Suddenly an image of their neighbor Marjorie Reynolds formed in her mind. Of course! Having snared not one, but two gentlemen, Marjorie would know exactly what Carolina should do now.
“Lina?”
She shrugged and forced herself to look impassive. “Nothing so profound yet; I’m just taking your advice of not being overly friendly with him.”
“Just see that it remains that way.”
~Chapter Fifteen~
It's rather warm out today, isn't it?”
Marjorie started. “Carolina.”
“You seem surprised to see me,” Carolina said, walking down the center row of the little patch of indigo they'd been cultivating the last five years toward her friend and stopped at the plant three down from her. Unlike most crops, indigo wasn't planted, harvested and immediately ready for sale. The purple leaves of the Indigofera tinctoria plant were plucked, then soaked in a foul smelling liquid until the leaves had lost their color and the liquid turned blue. Then the leaves were removed and lye was added to the mixture, then pressed into cakes and dried. Sometimes, they'd add special powders to the mixture if they wanted the cake to be a lighter shade. But a family as poor as the Reynolds likely wouldn't have money to waste in this way.
