The Heavenly Surrender

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “I-I cleaned it as good as I possibly could. I used the iodine…I…oh, Brian!” she cried, burying her face in her hands.

  “Now, now, lass,” Brian soothed, gathering her into his arms. “He’s the strongest man I’ve ever seen in me life, he is. No doubt he’ll be up in the mornin’ and referrin’ to that horrible sight as his wee scratch.” As he smoothed her hair, Genieva let her tears soak his shirt at his shoulder. “Ya’re tired, ya are. I’ll send Brenna and Lita over to keep ya company, and the three of ya can take yar turn sittin’ up with him tonight. It’ll make ya feel better.”

  Removing herself from his arms, Genieva dried her tears with her apron and nodded. “It will help me to have them here, Brian. Thank you. Oh, and I’m so sorry about your berry patch.”

  Brian smiled with understanding and shook his head. “’Tis nothin’ to speak of, Genieva. Nothin’ at all.” He frowned then, inspecting once more the massive wound on his brother’s back. “I’ll send Brenna and Lita over right away, lass. Ya’re not to worry. I tell ya, he’s stronger than a bull, that one.”

  

  Brenna and Lita gasped in perfect unison when Genieva pulled back the sheet and revealed to them Brevan’s terrible laceration.

  “Genieva!” Brenna exclaimed in a whisper. “’Tis a foot long if it’s an inch!”

  “Oh, no!” Lita disagreed. “A foot deep! Oh, Genieva! How did you manage it?”

  “Brevan’s a very authoritative man, you know,” Genieva whispered her answer, motioning for the two women to leave the room with her.

  As the three women walked quietly down the hallway, Lita took Genieva by the shoulders and turned her toward her own room. “Aquí, mí amiga,” she directed as she pointed to Genieva’s bed. “You need to rest. You look so tired and worried. Brenna and I will sit up with your husband.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t!” Genieva argued.

  “You must, Genieva,” Brenna insisted. “I know me brother, and he’ll be hard to handle tomorrow, he will. He’ll be steamin’ angry that the field won’t be gettin’ plowed, if the pain itself doesn’t make him a rabid animal.”

  “But I-I can’t just…” Genieva stammered.

  “To bed with ya now, Genieva,” Brenna ordered as she closed the door behind her.

  With pangs of guilt and trepidation, Genieva did retire to her own bed—and she cried pitiful tears as she thought of how horrid it had all been. What would she do without Brevan if he were stricken ill and taken from her? It frightened her to realize that she already knew she would never recover from losing him. Never recover from losing the great stranger of a man she was so thoroughly in love with.

  

  It was hours and hours later when Genieva woke. She was certain she had heard the deep intonation of Brevan’s voice. Quickly she threw back her blanket and walked down the hallway to his room. She stopped before his doorway, however, when she heard another voice—Lita’s.

  “Brevan, mí amor,” the woman sobbed. “Perdóname. Forgive me. I should’ve…I should’ve…this is all my fault!” she cried softly.

  “Ah, hush, Lita,” Brevan assured her. Genieva peeked carefully around the doorway. Brevan was still lying in his bed—on his stomach. Lita sat on the floor next to him holding one of his large hands against her cheek as she wept. Instantly, an overwhelming anxiety and jealousy washed over Genieva. Yet she stood still and hidden as she continued to eavesdrop.

  “This…none of this has ever been yar fault, and well ya know it,” Brevan continued in a scolding manner.

  “But Genieva said she heard…”

  “Genieva imagined it, Lita. The animals startled ’tis all. ’Twas me own fault, I’m certain of it.”

  Now anger and indignation compounded Genieva’s plaguing emotions as she listened. She knew she had heard a gunshot. She knew it!

  “But, oh, Brevan…what if Genieva should get in the way somehow?” Lita asked.

  “She won’t, Lita. I’ll see to it. I’ll make sure of that. Ya just worry about yarself, lass. Ya’ll be needin’ to be more careful now, and ya shouldn’t be losin’ sleep like this either. It’s not good for you or…” As Genieva watched Lita lean over and kiss Brevan affectionately on the forehead, her temper flared, and she stepped into the room.

  “Oh, you’re awake,” Genieva stated flatly.

  “Oh, yes! He is quite well, Genieva!” Lita beamed.

  “So I see,” Genieva agreed. “Well, off with you now, Lita. I’ll sit with him awhile. You need your rest after all.”

  “I am tired,” Lita admitted as she rose. Reaching out, she took Genieva’s hand and squeezed it with reassurance. As Genieva looked into Lita’s beautiful brown eyes, her anger began to dissipate. Surely she had misunderstood the implications in the conversation she had overheard. Lita appeared so unruffled and sincere.

  “Brenna is resting in the spare room. Would you mind if I take your bed?” Lita asked.

  “Of course not, Lita,” Genieva assured her. She smiled at the woman, and when Lita had left, Genieva turned her attention to Brevan.

  “Feeling better?” she asked shortly.

  “Ya shouldn’t have let her stay up so late, Genieva,” Brevan barked at her.

  “Brenna insisted that we take turns, Brevan. It wasn’t my idea,” she defended. “And anyway, you seemed rather smitten with her company.”

  “She needs her rest, lass,” he continued to bark, lowering his voice.

  “We all need our rest, Brevan,” she reminded him rather too curtly.

  “’Tis true enough. But Lita…” he paused, seeming uncertain about whether he should continue. “Lita must think of her baby now.”

  Genieva sat down on the chair near his bed. She was so stunned—as if someone had simply hit her over the head with a board.

  “You mean she’s…Lita is…” she mused.

  “The word is pregnant, Genieva. ’Tis a proper word, ya know,” he snapped at her.

  “Why hasn’t she told any of us? Why hasn’t Brian said anything? He’s the one that suggested she come over here!”

  “Brian doesn’t know of it yet.”

  “You mean to tell me…she’s confided this profoundly intimate secret to you, and not to her own husband?” Genieva’s heart began to pound—furious with anxiety again.

  “I guessed at it. Brian, good and true man that he is, doesn’t see things on the end of his nose sometimes,” he groaned. It was obvious the wound was paining him once more, for he clenched his eyes tightly shut and held his breath for a moment.

  “By the way, Brevan,” Genieva charged forth, “I did hear a gunshot that spooked the mules today.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “I heard it too, I did.”

  “You heard it?” Genieva asked. “Then why did you tell Lita that you didn’t? You made me look like a fool in her eyes.”

  “There’s no sense in worryin’ her, there isn’t. She’s blamin’ herself as it is.”

  “Why should she blame herself?”

  “I’m tired, Genieva. Me back hurts…me head is poundin’, and me field is waitin’ to be planted. Just let me rest now. And it’s not necessary for ya to stay here with me,” he grumbled.

  “Well, I can’t very well return to my bed to sleep, so I might as well…”

  “Me own bed is big enough for the both of us, Genieva. Just stop yar endless chatter, and let me rest,” he moaned. He was hurting, and Genieva forgave him instantly for being so curt with her—and for suggesting such an inappropriate resting place for herself.

  “I’ll leave you then. Don’t worry about your field, Brevan. It will still be here when you feel better.” But as she rose to leave, he caught hold of her hand. She turned to find him glaring up at her, an expression of warning blatant on his face.

  “Don’t argue the gunshot with Lita, Genieva. It will worry her more than ya know. Let it die,” he whispered.

  Wrenching her hand from his grasp—for his touch unnerved her—she said, “As you wish, Brevan. Sleep w
ell.”

  

  “Brian was over early this mornin’, Genieva, and finished the plowin’. I’ll help ya plant the corn, I will. Then Brevan won’t be forcin’ himself to work before ’tis safe for him,” Brenna informed Genieva at the breakfast table. Lita had left early—before Genieva had awakened—but Brenna had waited and fixed a fine breakfast.

  “Did you know that Lita is…?” Genieva stammered.

  “That she has a wee bun in the oven?” Brenna finished joyously. “Oh, yes! She told me just this mornin’ on her way to tell Brian. I’ve no doubt he’ll be walkin’ on the air all day now. When did she tell you?”

  “She didn’t,” Genieva answered flatly before shoveling a pile of scrambled eggs into her mouth with her fork.

  “How did ya know it then?”

  “Brevan told me.”

  “Brevan? Ya mean Brevan knew before the rest of us? Before Brian?”

  “Yes.”

  Genieva looked up, startled when Brenna giggled merrily. “Oh, Brevan. He can read a person through and through, ya know. He guessed at it. He must’ve.”

  “He said as much,” Genieva confirmed.

  “Oh, how I wish it were me,” Brenna sighed. “A baby! Just think, Genieva. How wonderful!”

  “Yes. And I’m sure it will be a beautiful one as well,” Genieva agreed.

  “For sure and for certain!” Brenna giggled. “With me brother’s handsome looks and Lita’s heritage combined.”

  “Yes. Lita is beautiful. And as for your brother…” Genieva could not finish her thought—for a horrid idea had been forming in her mind since she’d overheard the conversation between Brevan and Lita—and now it was threatening to further pollute her thoughts. It just seemed too unnatural for Brevan to guess at Lita’s condition while Brian remained ignorant of it. Shaking her head, Genieva tried to dispel the unthinkable vision from her mind. She tried to dispel the name of Amy Wilburn echoing throughout it as well.

  “You and Brevan will have beautiful babies as well, ya will,” Brenna said softly, smiling and winking at Genieva.

  “Children are not on his list of important chores, Brenna,” Genieva corrected her, blushing vermillion, however, at the thought.

  “But gettin’ me corn in is,” Brevan growled as he entered the kitchen.

  Genieva and Brenna both turned to face him, and Genieva was on her feet instantly at seeing his state. He was pale and obviously weak—for he put his hand out to steady himself against the wall. His trousers threatened to slip from his hips—for they remained unfastened.

  “Get yar scrawny body back into bed, Brevan McLean!” Brenna ordered as Genieva rushed forward, tugging at the waistband of his pants to secure them.

  “I’ve got to get that corn in, Brenna,” he mumbled. As he stumbled forward, Genieva’s smaller form struggled to support his incredible bulk.

  “You’ve got fever,” Genieva mumbled. “He’s too warm, Brenna,” she called over her shoulder. She felt warm moisture on her hand as she fought to help support him as he teetered backward. Drawing her hand away to examine it, she gasped as she saw the bright crimson blood there—fresh and wet. “And you’re bleeding again.”

  “That field has to be planted, Genieva,” he breathed, taking her face tightly between his two powerful hands and glaring down at her.

  “I’ll plant the field for you, Brevan. I promise. But you must rest,” she told him. His condition frightened her! It frightened her more than anything she had ever in her life encountered.

  “I-I…” he stammered before his full weight descended on Genieva, knocking her to the floor. The crushing mass of his unconscious body descending onto her own, forced the breath from her lungs, and Genieva was momentarily paralyzed for lack of it.

  “He’s as stubborn as anythin’ I’ve ever seen, he is,” Brenna complained as she worked to help Genieva push the great man off her own body. “Leave it to Brevan to pass out on the kitchen floor with only the two of us to be draggin’ him back into bed.”

  Yet Brevan’s unconscious state was very brief. He woke almost immediately.

  “Ya ask Brian to plant me corn for me, Brenna. It has to be done in the next couple of days. I’m late with it this year, I am,” Brevan mumbled as Genieva and Brenna helped him to his feet.

  “Let’s get ya to bed, Brevan. Quit worryin’ about that corn! It’s yar healin’ that’s important,” Brenna scolded him.

  “’Tis but a scratch, Brenna,” Brevan barked. “Let me be!” He pushed Brenna away from him, putting one arm about Genieva’s slight shoulders for support. “Get to askin’ Brian about that corn, lass!”

  Brenna sighed heavily. She shook her head as she said, “Crack him over the head with a hammer if ya must, Genieva. But get him to bed and to sleep so we won’t have to put up with his bellowin’ for another minute! I’m off to speak to Brian, I am.” Irritated, she slammed the front door as she left.

  “You shouldn’t be so short and demanding with your sister, Brevan. She’s been a great help and…” Genieva began.

  “I know, I know,” Brevan interrupted. “Now, I’m feelin’ a bit dizzy again, I am. Get me to me bed, lass.”

  As they approached his bed, however, Genieva stood before him, taking his arms in order to guide him into lying down on his stomach.

  “Your wound is bleeding again. I’m afraid I didn’t get it stitched very thoroughly,” Genieva mumbled.

  At that moment, however, Brevan’s weakened state caused him to stumble and his great hulking form was once again too awkward and heavy for Genieva to support. Before she could react and move out of the way, she felt herself fall back on his bed, his massive weight crushing her an instant later as he fell on top of her.

  “Brevan,” she gasped, pushing on his shoulders in a pointless effort to remove him. “Brevan, wake up and move!” When she found it impossible to move him, she took his face in her hands and lifted his head to look directly into it. “You are smashing me flat! Wake up!” She slapped him all too gently on the cheek, but his head only fell against her neck when she released him.

  Struggling for breath—for he was astonishingly heavy—Genieva tried to squirm her way out from under him. She soon realized she was trapped, however. Perhaps if she could maneuver her legs to one side a little, she could free herself. Yet it was to no avail. They hung off the bed from the knees down, rendering themselves in too difficult a position to be used to pry Genieva loose.

  “What goes on here?” Brevan’s slurred words came as he tried to raise his head. “What are ya doin’, Genieva?” he asked looking at her.

  “You are smashing me! Get off, you big oaf!” Genieva groaned. She could tell then that he was still close to being unconscious, for his glassy eyes narrowed.

  “Make sure Brian gets that corn in, Genieva,” he mumbled as he stared down into her eyes.

  “Hang the corn, Brevan!” she shouted then, pushing at his shoulders. “Get off me before I’m crushed to death!”

  With a profound effort, Brevan placed his hands on either side of Genieva’s body and tried to raise himself, only to collapse on top of her once again. “I’m as weak as a bloomin’ calf, I am,” he panted.

  “Just help me to roll you off,” she groaned as she pushed at his right shoulder to guide him to roll left.

  With a pain-stricken moan, Brevan mustered what little strength was left to him and rolled to his side. Genieva drew a deep breath before sitting up.

  “You weigh more than...” she began. But when she looked at him lying pale and silent on his side, she knew he was unconscious again. Anxiety gripped her once more, and she laid her hand gently on his chest to make certain that it did indeed rise and fall with life sustaining breath. His flesh was hot to the touch, and the fever of it caused her hand to tremble. Tenderly she caressed his rugged and unshaven face, praying silently for his well-being.

  As Genieva studied Brevan’s face—a face that even in sleep donned a pain-stricken frown—her heart swelled with what she had
already come to know as her astounding love for him. What manner of marvelous man was this that she was blessed to be married to? Hard-working, handsome, and capable of anything. Gently she smoothed the frown from his tired brow. Caressing his desirable lips with her fingers, she remembered the taste of them the previous day in the orchard when he had kissed her.

  Suddenly, as if his subconscious had read her mind, Brevan’s eyes burst open—their deep blue mesmerizing Genieva. In a moment, she gasped, realizing that he was conscious. Even if she had wished to she could not have avoided him as he reached out unexpectedly, slid his hand around her neck, and quickly pulled her face to meet his own. His magnificent kiss was feverish in its heated thirst—exhilarating—as he seemed unable to quench some deep craving hunger! And when he pulled her down onto the bed next to him, covering her chest and shoulders with his own—delivering an intensely unbridled continuance of it—Genieva’s breath was once again wondrously seized from her body. Truly, it could only be dubbed a bewitching skill that he owned—for his kiss rendered her powerless to resist relishing in it. His mouth was warm and demanding, even for his weakened state, and each time she drew breath, Genieva basked in the pure pleasure and taste of Brevan’s affectionate wizardry.

  Still, a horrible feeling of uncertainty nagged at Genieva’s mind, and she reached up, pushing his face away. “Brevan,” she asked, breathless from his kisses. “Y-you do know it’s me, don’t you?”

  His glassy stare seemed unable to take note of what she had asked. He only grabbed the wrist of her hand pushing at him, pinning it to the bed as his mouth sought to enslave hers once more. After one final fervid and fevered kiss, he fell unconscious again, and Genieva pulled herself from beneath him. Though the kiss of the day before had been the stuff of dreams, this kiss was different—issued with a powerful something she could only define as wanton passion.