by Keli Gwyn
Now was a good time to enact her plan, since it appeared Tildy was alone. Elenora removed her boots, set them on the porch, and opened the door with the speed of a sleepy snail. Bless Miles for keeping the hinges well oiled.
Dishes rattled in the kitchen, and she used the noise to cover her dash to the tri-level staircase. The steps were covered with an Oriental-patterned runner, so she’d be able to slip upstairs without anyone noticing.
Several tense moments later she reached the top. The door at the upper landing was ajar. She tiptoed to it and peered inside. The sight caused her mouth to fall open.
Even in the low light caused by the blinds, she could see Tildy asleep in a canopy bed with a pale pink top, which was set against the far wall. A quilt featuring dark pink and red flowers in forest-green baskets on a white background lay across the foot. Ruffled side curtains, drawn back at each of the bedposts, puddled on the floor in soft folds. Pink curtains the color of the bed draperies framed the windows. Never in all her years had Elenora seen a room as beautiful. Tildy must feel like a princess.
What was Miles doing with a room like this? His daughter had only been a year old when she was taken from him. A quick glance to the right revealed a crib tucked in the corner. Lying atop the coverlet was a Grenier papier mâché doll, most likely the one he’d bought on his fateful trip to Sacramento City and had never been able to give her. He’d lost his beloved daughter and experienced agony only a bereaved parent could understand. Was she to endure such pain, too?
Elenora’s eyes grew moist, and she blinked back the tears. For Tildy’s sake she must be strong. Lord, uphold us in these dark days, and if it be Your will, heal my daughter.
Elenora darted to Tildy’s bedside, gazed at her precious girl’s face covered with angry red spots, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She felt warm, so Elenora laid her violin and reticule on the corner of the bed and pulled back the blanket.
She looked up and froze. She’d been so glad to see Tildy, she hadn’t noticed the rocking chair on the left side of the bed where Miles sat with his head lolled to the side as he dozed.
Only once before had she seen him unshaven—the morning after he’d spent the night watching over her shop. He’d looked tired then, but his previous fatigue paled in comparison. In addition to the stubble on his chin, his hair was mussed and he had dark smudges beneath his eyes. He’d removed his waistcoat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing muscular forearms. It was improper to see a man in such a state, but try as she might, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Miles had obviously sacrificed sleep to see that Tildy received the best of care. Drawn by an irresistible urge, Elenora went to him. She reached out to brush a wayward lock of hair off his forehead.
He grabbed her wrist and spoke in a gruff whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“I—” The flash of anger in his eyes silenced her.
“Come with me.”
He pulled her after him into the hallway and backed her against the railing, giving her no way to escape. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Tildy’s at the height of contagion.”
She found her voice. “I know the risk I’m taking. I’ve thought long and hard, and then I prayed. God heard me, Miles.”
His expression softened. “Of course He did. But surely He didn’t send you here?”
The thickness in her throat made speaking a tremendous effort. Her voice faltered, but she didn’t let that stop her. “I came of my own free will. My pa wasn’t there when my mama and little brother passed from this world, and I saw what that did to him. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything possible to take care of my little girl. If I get sick, so be it. But if I were to sacrifice my well-being for hers and something happened…”
A flood of tears poured forth in a torrent.
Miles pulled Ellie into his arms and rubbed her back as she sobbed into his shirtfront. He should be furious with her, but the childlike wonder in her voice when she said the Lord had heard her prayer had caused Miles’s anger to fade. It had dissolved completely when she gave him her reason for defying the doctor’s orders.
She’d obviously reached the limit of her endurance and had nowhere else to turn. Miles wanted to hold her and never let her go.
All too soon she broke free and turned away. “May I use your handkerchief?” She reached a hand behind her back, and he filled it with the freshly laundered square. After mopping her face, she lifted penitent eyes to him. “How angry are you?”
“I’m not.”
She dropped the handkerchief and groped for it, catching it just before it hit the floor. “You were. I saw it.”
“I was, but I’m not now. Mother said she told you about the fire and how Irene had left May with her washerwoman, but there’s more to the story. What you don’t know is that I’m to blame for what happened that night.”
Puzzlement pinched her face. “How can that be? You weren’t even there.”
“Exactly. Irene and I had words. As you know, I have a tendency to speak before I think. She’d been out socializing four nights that week, and I accused her of being a negligent mother. She tried to tell me how trapped she felt being stuck at home all day with a baby, but I didn’t listen. All I could think about was how little May and I mattered to her. Instead of trying to understand what my wife was telling me, I said I needed to take a buying trip. I left the next morning—without saying goodbye. If I hadn’t stormed off…”
He didn’t dare look at Ellie’s face, for he was sure to see disgust or disapproval there. He deserved that, but he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to endure her disappointment in him.
She took his hand and said his name with such feeling that a ray of hope penetrated his parched soul. He lifted his head, and the compassion and caring in her warm brown eyes were unmistakable. He released the breath he’d been holding, and the viselike tightness that had taken hold of him eased.
“Jake and I had our troubles, too. Every couple does. But you aren’t to blame for the fire. It was an accident.” She squeezed his hand and released it. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”
“I wasn’t there, and I’ve had to live with that knowledge every day of my life. I can’t change what happened. I see that now, and I understand why you’re here.”
“Then you’ll let me stay? I have a surprise for Tildy, one I think she’ll like.”
A knock sounded on the front door. Following a call from the kitchen, Dr. Lyle let himself in. He crossed the entry, grasped the railing, and stopped. “Mrs. Watkins! What on earth are you doing here? I strictly forbid it.”
Miles put a hand at the small of her back to show his support. “She knows the risk, but she needs to be with her daughter.”
“Oh, she’ll be with her all right, because I can’t allow her to leave the house now and run the risk of her exposing anyone else.”
Mother bustled into the entry. “That’s not a problem, Doctor. We have a guest room.”
“You know you may well end up with two patients on your hands.”
“Miles and I are ready for that, aren’t we, son?”
Meddlesome though she might be, Mother had her moments. And this was definitely one of them. “We are. If Mrs. Watkins takes ill—which she may not—we’ll care for her as diligently as we’ve been caring for Tildy.”
Ellie had remained quiet throughout the exchange, which wasn’t like her. She darted her eyes from one of them to the other. “I never intended to stay. I thought I’d take her to our place.”
Dr. Lyle began his climb. “As sick as she is, I don’t want her moved. You’ll have to remain here until I lift the quarantine.”
“But I can’t stay here. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“You should have thought of that before you disregarded my directive.”
“Elenora, dear, you needn’t concern yourself.” Mother smiled at her. “I’m a more-than-adequate chaperone. It isn’t as though this is a house party. Your daughte
r has a dreaded disease. Dr. Lyle will simply tell anyone who asks that you’re here to nurse her back to health, won’t you, Doctor?” She shifted her smile his way.
He threw up his hands in defeat, and Miles stifled a grin. He liked the idea of having Ellie here. Perhaps he’d finally have the opportunity to show her how much he’d changed and figure out a way to convince her to remain in El Dorado.
Chapter 28
Play it again, Mama. Please.”
Poor Ellie. She might wish she’d never learned how to fiddle if Tildy kept this up. Miles still couldn’t believe Ellie had asked Abe for lessons and had surprised Tildy with a lively rendition of “Pop Goes the Weasel” when Dr. Lyle left after their heated meeting.
But Ellie was a devoted mother. Ever since the day she’d learned of the possibility of the measles, she’d thought of nothing but her daughter. She hadn’t mentioned her shop but once or twice, and then only in passing. Her entire focus had been on getting Tildy well.
“Sweetheart, I’d love to, but I need to rest.” She sank into the rocker beside Tildy’s bed. Ellie had spent hour after hour over the past nine days making up stories for Tildy about a girl who saved a town from an outlaw, playing cat’s cradle with her, and fiddling.
Ellie had welcomed Miles’s instruction and added several numbers to her repertoire, including “Turkey in the Straw” and “Old Dan Tucker.” Although she was still tight, she’d made considerable progress. Sadly, her interest in their upcoming duet had waned, which showed in her performance during the few practices they’d squeezed in while Mother sat with Tildy.
“Your poor mama has been at your bedside day and night. I think it’s time you gave her a break. Dr. Lyle said you could get up now if you take it easy, so how about you and I play a game of checkers? I’ll even let the two of you into my study—as long as your organized mama promises to turn a blind eye to the piles on my, um, less-than-tidy desk.”
Ellie didn’t smile at his teasing. In fact she looked as though she hadn’t heard him.
“C’mon, Mama. Mr. R’s been promising me a visit to his special room. He said it’s his haven, and he only lets Mrs. R in there to clean once a month.”
He set up the game on the table in the center of the room. Tildy trooped in wearing her dressing gown and house slippers. Ellie chose his wingback leather armchair, where she rested her head against the side and closed her eyes. She looked exhausted. A nap would do her good. Since Tildy was much improved and the blazing red spots had faded, she was no longer in danger from a draft, so he opened the windows to create some airflow.
Midway into the third game a hoarse cough from Ellie caught his attention. He turned and found her huddled under a coverlet. She appeared to be shivering, which made no sense. It had to be in the eighties. He pressed a hand to her forehead. Fever.
“Tildy, would you pull back your mama’s bedcovers? She needs to lie down.”
“What’s wrong?”
He did his best to keep the panic out of his voice. “I’m not sure, but she doesn’t seem to be feeling well.” Dr. Lyle would make the official diagnosis, but Miles had learned a great deal about measles the past few days and knew the symptoms. Tildy had coughed some and run a low-grade fever, but she’d never complained of cold or trembled the way Ellie was. Although he’d known this was a possibility, he’d prayed fervently that she could be spared the discomfort Tildy had endured.
“I’m going to pick you up, Ellie.” He scooped her in his arms, carried her to the guestroom, and laid her on the bed.
She roused and shook her head. “You have to go. It’s not proper for—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “You need to lie still. I’ll get Mother for you, and then I’ll go for Dr. Lyle.”
“No!” She grabbed his hand and searched the room frantically, her eyes coming to rest on Tildy. “Sw–sweetheart, would you get Mrs. R?”
“Yes, Mama.” Tildy hurried off. She shouldn’t exert herself, but it seemed Ellie wanted her out of the way.
“Miles.” Her voice was soft but insistent. He leaned close. “I know it’s the measles. And I’m afraid I’m going to get worse before I get better. Promise me that if anything happens to me you won’t send Tildy back to my pa. I want you to take her.”
Of all the things Ellie had ever said to him, this was by far the most amazing. He didn’t know what to say. Not that he could get any words out. She’d rendered him speechless.
Dr. Lyle removed his stethoscope and put it back in its case. If he didn’t say something soon, Miles was afraid he might shake the man.
“I’d hoped to see some improvement.”
“It can’t be that bad. She doesn’t have nearly as many spots as Tildy did.”
“Unfortunately, a mild eruption often portends a more severe case, which is what we’re seeing here.”
Mother rested a hand on Miles’s back. “What can we do, Doctor?”
“Continue bathing her with cool cloths and offering her plenty of liquids. I suggest barley or rice water, or you can pour hot water over apples and make apple-tea. Give her five grains of Dover’s powder in a little syrup for the cough, and apply a mustard plaster morning and evening until she stops complaining of chest pain.”
“Much of what she says is gibberish.” This troubled Miles more than anything else. He had decisions to make, and he needed Ellie’s input. So much had happened the past four days.
Dr. Lyle closed his black leather bag. “That’s the fever talking. I don’t have to tell you how critical the next couple of days will be. One of you needs to be with her at all times. Call me if her condition changes—no matter the hour. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Miles pressed a fist to his mouth to hide his trembling chin. Ellie would make it. She had to. Tildy needed her. And so did he.
Mother saw Dr. Lyle out.
“Lord, hold Ellie in Your arms.” Miles dropped to his knees beside the bed and caressed her cheek, her speckled skin warm to the touch. “You’re the Great Physician. If it be Your will, please bring her through this. I’ll do whatever You ask of me, even if means stepping aside so she can pursue her dream.”
He clutched her hand and continued to kneel, his head bowed and his heart heavy. A touch on his shoulder roused him.
“My old knees ache seeing you like that. Why don’t you take a seat?”
He did as Mother asked. Strains from the piano below let him know Tildy was occupied. Praise the Lord, she was on the mend. Other than being even thinner than before, she looked like herself again. Mother’s tempting fare would soon restore her to full health. Now to get Ellie better.
“Elenora’s a fighter, son. You know that better than anyone. She’ll pull through. You’ll see.”
“She’s strong. But she’s going to have surprises in store. When she sees what I’ve done, she’ll be more than ready to take Grayson up on his offer.”
“You had no choice. She’ll understand.”
He hoped Mother was right. But when Ellie emerged from her fever and found her merchandise in the mercantile, no doubt she’d have some heated words for him.
Elenora woke and found Miles asleep in the rocking chair next to her bed. Judging by the amount of light sneaking in around a green blind that had been hung in the window, morning was making its appearance. For the first time since he’d carried her to the bed, she felt hungry. She had vague recollections of being held up to drink some rather unpleasant concoctions. What she’d give for a cup of peppermint tea and some toast.
She wriggled until she’d untangled her nightdress from around her legs, propped herself against the pillows, and pulled the sheet to her chin. Someone had removed her hair from its chignon and plaited it. She arranged the braid over one shoulder, pinched her cheeks to give them a little color, and moistened her parched lips with the tip of her tongue.
Miles looked dreadful. Much worse than he had when she’d surprised him the day she sneaked into his house. From the looks of things, he’d not s
haved in days. His hair had the tousled appearance that came from raking one’s hands through it. And although the idea seemed incomprehensible, she had the distinct feeling he hadn’t changed his shirt in some time.
If he were in such a state, what a sorry sight she must be. And here she’d been primping when her face was likely swollen and covered in a riot of unseemly red blotches. What a silly goose she could be at times. A giggle began deep inside, growing until she could no longer contain it. She burst into a fit of laughter mingled with coughing.
His eyes flew open, and he was at her side in an instant, running his hands over her face as though he had every right to touch her. He pressed his lips to her forehead and each of her cheeks, soft and slow. She closed her eyes and savored the sensations surging through her. Miles’s kisses made her feel alive—and cherished.
When he sat up, his face was aglow. “Praise God! The fever’s broken. You’re going to be all right, Ellie.” He leaped up, his hands raised to the ceiling, looking completely overcome.
Her thinking must still be fuzzy. He hadn’t been kissing her. He’d merely been checking her temperature. If she’d had the strength, she’d have smacked a palm to her forehead. She contented herself by watching him roam around the room singing praises to God for seeing her through the dark days of the disease.
Miles did care about her, and that warmed her to the tips of her toes.
Her stomach rumbled. “If you don’t mind, Miles, I could use something to eat.”
He grabbed the doorframe, leaned out, and hollered, “Mother! Tildy! She’s awake, and she’s asking for food.”
Mrs. Rutledge and Tildy clomped up the stairs and carried on in much the same way Miles had. When they finally contained themselves, Mrs. Rutledge shooed Miles and Tildy from the room and helped Elenora with her toilette. Although it felt strange to accept the older woman’s ministrations, the sponge bath and fresh nightdress were welcome.
