by Lorri Dudley
She nodded. This was a much bigger target than the wooden barrel. She could do this.
He passed her the pistol. “You remember how to load the chamber?”
Lottie unscrewed the barrel and loaded the powder and the shot.
“Very good. Now, let me see your stance.”
She stepped one foot forward and braced her legs.
He peered down at her skirts. “Your knees are slightly bent.” Nathan stood behind her, and his fingers slid over the sensitive skin of her wrists. Her pulse fluttered and quickened its pace. Could he feel it race? She inhaled a breath and released it to slow her heartbeat.
“Let’s try using both arms, one to support the other.” He raised her hands and showed her how to hold her wrist to steady her other arm.
He stood so close she could feel the whisper of his breath against her temple. The dizzy sensation of being enveloped within his clean masculine scent caused her to sway against him. He didn’t push her away. She relaxed and focused on her target, but the ground wouldn’t hold still. It must be his nearness. Not only did he make her world spin, but he set her body ablaze. Her neck and ears burned, and beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead.
“Aim and fire.”
She closed her eyes and opened them again. The broken ship came into focus. Her finger clenched the trigger. The explosion drove her deeper into Nathan’s chest, and her ears rang.
“I believe you hit it. A splinter of wood ricocheted.” He released her and strode toward the ship. “Indeed. You nicked the top.” He ran his finger over the notch and turned back to her with a wide grin.
She returned his smile, but his faded. His brows lowered, and he strode back toward her. “Are you sure you’re all right? Your cheeks are flushed.”
She lay a hand against her cheek. It indeed felt warm. How mortifying for him to see the effect his nearness had on her. She couldn’t blame it on the sun or the air temperature because they stood in the shade of the rocks and enjoyed the ocean breeze.
“I’m fine.” She pushed down her bonnet in hopes it would cool her face. “I’m merely excited to have finally hit the target.” She busied herself reloading the weapon.
He resumed his place, and she resumed her stance.
“This time, focus on the center of the ship, right above the waterline.” He raised her arms into position and ducked his head to check her aim. He straightened, but didn’t move away. “Fire whenever you’re ready.”
The breeze picked up, cooling her damp forehead. A chill ran though her body, and she shivered.
“Don’t be nervous.” He slid a hand around her waist and splayed his fingers across her stomach. “You were so close last time. This time it’s certain to be a direct hit.”
She swallowed her dizziness and pulled the trigger.
Sand sprayed against the wood. Nathan backed away but didn’t move toward the target. “Try again.”
She almost dropped the bag of powder because her hands were trembling. How could they be this cold midday?
Nathan stood behind her, but not as close this time, for which she was grateful. Maybe she could focus better without the distraction of his touch.
She braced her legs and raised her arms, but weariness sapped her strength, and the dizziness returned tenfold. The target blurred before her, and she swayed on her feet. A dull throbbing started in her head. She forced her finger to squeeze the trigger. The gun slid from her hands, and she staggered backward.
“Lottie?” Nathan grabbed her before she fell. His strong arms supported her weight.
“Maybe we should try this another time,” she said. “I seem to be coming down with a bit of a headache.” She closed her eyes against the distant waves. The receding tide wreaked havoc on her equilibrium.
Nathan guided her over to a rock and helped her sit. He kneeled in the sand, an act that would soil his boots and cream-colored breeches. He didn’t seem to think of it though. Lines of concern dug deep grooves in his forehead.
Her dizziness eased a bit, and she ached to erase his worry lines with her fingertips. “I merely needed to sit for a moment. I do believe the late nights and Franny’s dramatic episodes have taken a lot out of me.”
He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. His face blanched, and his eyes narrowed on her. “You’re burning up. We should head back.”
She waved away his hand. “I’m actually a bit chilly, but nothing a walk in the sun won’t cure.” She rose, but the ground was unsteady beneath her feet.
Nathan grasped her elbow.
As much as she hated to end their time, she might not be able to go much farther. “Maybe you’re right.”
He escorted her to the road where the ground was flatter. It helped her wooziness, but with each step, her legs grew heavier, as if her slippers had turned to leaden boots. Her breaths became short, and she grew winded. Maybe she’d fallen ill, but so suddenly? The last time a fever came on so quickly, she’d been a small child. Was she relapsing? No, God. Not now. Not when Nathan was beginning to develop feelings for her. Would he believe it could affect her ability to bear children as Mama insinuated? Could it?
A wagon approached, and Nathan raised a hand to halt the conveyance.
“Truly. I’m feeling much better.” She released her hold on Nathan’s arm and strolled down the road a few steps. “I’m fine.” She turned to peer at him over her shoulder. The wagon stopped, and Nathan spoke to the driver. “You’ll need to catch up—”
Dizziness hit her like a hurricane. Darkness seeped into her periphery, swallowing her vision.
God, help me.
“Lottie!” Nathan’s voice called to her.
She forced her gaze in his direction and attempted to smile to reassure him, but the tiny effort commanded the strength she would have needed to move Mount Misery.
Before she could move again, darkness consumed her.
Chapter 22
Thank you for your sentiments. I shall keep you abreast of her condition. I dare not leave her side. Please pray for her recovery. I fear the worst.
~ From Nathan to Mr. Marcus Tallant
Nathan knew the signs. It started with the fever, followed by chills. Her skin radiated heat, and sweat beaded on her face, but her body shivered uncontrollably. He held her in his arms in the back of the wagon until the driver stopped in front of the Cockleshell. Paul rushed to aid him.
“I’ll take her.” Nathan jumped to the ground, then scooped Lottie into his arms.
Paul leapt up the few steps and held the front door open.
“Inform your mistress of Lady Winthrop’s condition and have extra sheets, wash towels, and broth brought up to her room.” Nathan ascended the stairs, holding her head close to his chest, careful to not bump against the walls or railings.
He reached her room and yelled, “Franny, open the door.”
The young maid’s eyes were puffy and red from crying, but her face paled upon spying her mistress. She pushed the door wide and scurried to the bed to turn down the covers. “My lady, whatever happened?”
“She’s fainted and can’t hear you.” Nathan gently laid her upon the mattress and tried to set her in a comfortable position.
Franny removed Lottie’s bonnet and slippers and pulled up the sheets. “What’s the matter?”
“She’s fallen ill, most likely with the fever.”
The maid gasped and burst into tears.
Nathan grabbed her arm. “You must get ahold of yourself. Lottie needs you. We are all she has right now.”
She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingertips. “How can I be of service?”
“When her body shakes, we will need to keep her warm. When her fever rises, we must keep her cool.” His mouth said we, but the fear seizing his heart had him wanting to bolt from the room.
But Lottie was his wife. No matter how terrified he might be, she was his responsibility. It was his duty to stay. “If God’s favor shines upon us, the fever will break in three
to four days. In the meantime, we need to keep her as comfortable as possible.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Julia strode into the room, followed by servants carrying the sheets, towels, and a tureen of broth. She pointed to the dresser. “Set it down over there.”
The help did as she commanded and ducked out of the room.
“When did the fever start?” Lines creased Julia’s forehead.
“It came on suddenly while we were out strolling the beach. One minute she was smiling and laughing, and the next she was dizzy and feverish.”
“Has she vomited?”
“No. No, she hasn’t, but she did complain of a headache.”
Julia inclined her head to Franny. “You should get some broth in her as soon as she wakes. Whatever she’ll keep down.”
Franny prepared a bowl from the tureen. Nathan scooted Lottie up and stuffed pillows behind her back to support her in a half-seated position.
Julia laid a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, and he met her solemn gaze. “We knew this might happen. We shall hope for the best over the next few days.” She moved to the door and paused in the open frame. “If there is anything she needs, you know where to find me.” She mustered a sad smile. “This is not your fault.”
Nathan closed his eyes and nodded, but he could still see the witch’s wide mouth and hear her bark of laughter. I curse you. When he opened his eyes, Julia was gone and the door clicked shut.
Lottie’s face was as pale as the white pillows upon which she lay. Her eyes were shadowed, and the fever had already colored her lips scarlet. Adana’s face appeared in his mind’s eye as she clutched the satchel hung around her neck to ward off spirits. The spirit of death is upon her.
Nathan rubbed his face with both hands. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have kissed her or allowed her near him. Blast. He never should have married Lottie. She was here because of him. She was ill because of him. She was cursed because of him.
Lottie’s body ached everywhere and her head pounded. A warm liquid dripped over her lips and down her throat. Some of it ran down her chin, but a soft cloth gently mopped it up.
Franny. Franny must be taking care of her.
“Water,” Lottie whispered through chapped lips.
The feel of cool porcelain parted her lips, and fingers lifted her chin. Water flooded her mouth, but stopped before she choked. The cold liquid soothed her parched throat. For someone so young, Franny was a natural caregiver.
Lottie struggled to open her eyes, but it wasn’t Franny she saw.
Nathan. His face appeared haggard, with dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept all night. The stubble of a beard darkened his chin. He must be the one who had cared for her. Her eyes closed of their own accord, for she didn’t possess the energy to keep them open.
“Rest, darling. You need to reserve your strength.”
“How long have I been asleep?” Weariness from speaking left her limbs and head feeling heavy.
“Three days.”
Her lids opened and fluttered back closed. Three days? Nathan cared for her all that time? But the fields and his ships? He shouldn’t be away from his work for so long. Her joints ached and complained, but she slid her arm towards him and covered his hand with hers. She may have squeezed. She wanted to, but she was so weak her fingers didn’t seem to cooperate.
Her lids wouldn’t open, but she forced her lips to move. “Thank you.” She had meant to say, Thank you for staying by my side. I know all you’re sacrificing to be here. I love you. But exhaustion set in, and she was dragged back into nothingness.
Lottie’s feet sank into the sand. Water rushed around her ankles and saturated the hem of her gown. The tide was coming in. Another wave crashed, pushing her back a step until the undertow dragged her forward. She strained against the water, trying to break away from its grip. The sky grew as dark and stormy as the sea. She shouldn’t be out during a storm. She needed to find shelter. She scanned up and down the beach, but there were no houses, no people, not even a single boat.
“Help. Someone, please help me.” Maybe someone would hear her cry.
Her foot slid in the sand, and she almost fell into the water. A large wave rolled in, splashing water up to her knees, and her gown became the weight of several stones. She panted from the exertion of merely holding her ground. She needed to get away, out of the water, away from the waves sucking her to a horrible death. She struggled harder, but only lost ground.
Thunder crashed as another wave barreled into her, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her foot caught on her gown. She fell to her knees and staggered to get up. The rushing undertow flowed over her back, soaking her hair. Her heels dug into the sand as she turned to face the next onslaught.
An ocean wave rose higher than any she’d seen. It towered above her, foaming at the top and preparing to crash down on her at any moment. The wind rippled the water into the shape of a woman. Seaweed laced the woman’s hair, and the ocean was her native garb. Her fluid hands spread her skirts wide, and strange words poured out of her mouth, like fish spilling from a cut net.
Frantically, Lottie flailed her arms and legs, fighting against the ocean’s current. “Help! Please help!”
The woman leaned down and lowered her face to within a foot of Lottie’s.
Lottie cringed and raised her hands as a shield.
The woman’s mouth opened, and a blast of rain and wind beat against Lottie’s face.
“Curse you,” she shrieked. “Death is upon you.”
The wave of her body crashed over Lottie, knocking her backward and somersaulting her under the water. Rushing liquid sounded in Lottie’s ears as her elbow and chin scraped against the sand at the bottom. She gained her footing and pushed back up out of the water, sputtering to catch her breath.
The ocean water pulled back, reshaping the wave-woman’s body even larger.
“That’s a lie.” Lottie spat salty water from her mouth. She struggled to keep her footing, even though her soggy skirts weighed her down. “I will not believe you.”
The wave woman threw back her head and laughed a harsh gurgling sound.
“You’re a liar.” Lottie rose as tall as she could, straightening her shoulders the way her mother taught her, and screamed. “I have built my foundation upon the rock of Jesus Christ, not upon sinking sand. My Lord will see me through.”
The woman’s eyes darkened, and she stirred up the ocean by thrashing the waves. She raised her arms until the crests loomed high over Lottie, threatening to sweep her away with one swoop.
The undertow dragged Lottie in until her feet stumbled on a firm foundation. A rock. She shored herself up. “I am not afraid. Jesus is with me. I won’t be moved.” She raised a hand and pointed at the woman. “I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.”
The wave woman roared and lunged at Lottie, but a warm wind blew, and the wave fizzled out. A few other waves, like greedy hands, tried to pull Lottie off her rock, but her feet stayed secure. The tide receded and left Lottie on the shoreline.
“Thank you, Jesus.” She repeated the mantra with each heavy breath and fell on her knees. Drenched and battered, her hair dangled around her face, and salt water dripped from her nose and chin.
The sky cleared, and the bright sun emerged. She lifted her face to warm her skin and squinted into the light.
Pray. The word was loud and clear, but it wasn’t audible. It entered into her heart, vibrant and distinct. Pray, it repeated, and again, Pray.
“I will,” she said to the light. She rose to her feet. “Pray, that is.” She smiled. “I shall pray.”
Nathan awoke to the sound of Lottie moaning. His eyes cracked open, but his lids felt weighted by anchors. Several nights of sporadic slumbering in a chair left his muscles stiff and achy, and he arched his back to ease the tightness. He grabbed the wet towel in the wash basin near his feet and wrung it out.
Lottie’s brow furrowed, and her pale cracked lips murmured something, but she showed no sign of
wakening. He wiped her flushed face with water to cool her feverish brow. Days three and four had passed with only a slight reprieve before the fever burned again, this time worse than before. She’d begun thrashing and murmuring incoherently in her sleep. He mopped her brow and closed his eyes against the pain of the truth. He was going to lose her.
She groaned and turned her head. Strands of stringy red hair stuck to her face. He brushed them away with his finger and leaned in, hoping maybe just once he’d understand her words.
“Pravb,” she mumbled, but it easily could have been a gasp of breath.
Nathan stilled and focused on her lips.
“Pray.”
Her voice was hoarse and weak, but he distinctly heard the sound and saw her lips form the word. “I will, darling, I have been, and I still am. Don’t give up. Keep fighting. Please, darling, for me.”
He kissed her palm. Tears burned the back of his lids. “God, please don’t take her. Wasn’t my family enough? Haven’t I paid enough for my sins?”
A shutter ran though Lottie, and he raised his head to find her convulsing. He scrambled backwards, uncertain what to do. When he hit the wall, he opened the door and stuck his head out. “Franny! Come quickly.”
His hands and lips trembled. This was it. The shadow of death had come. He moved to her side and pinned her arms and legs with his own, as if he could keep her from slipping into death if only he held her tight enough.
Her eyes rolled back, revealing the yellowing, a sign that the fever was winning the battle.
“No!” Nathan released her. No, not again. His heart squeezed to the point of bursting. He’d seen that same look in Katherine’s eyes, in Amory’s eyes, and in his mother’s eyes before the fever took them.
I can’t watch Lottie die.
He’d witnessed enough death. He wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of watching the torment on his face or hearing his weeping. His lungs struggled to drag in air. He needed to go…somewhere, anywhere, far away from the cold gasp of death.
