James brought him the necessary implements. Henry scratched out the two missives, then gave them to the man.
“I’ll get these off straightaway,” James promised.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Henry straightened Rebekah’s coverings once more. He felt her cheeks and forehead and in doing so tried to keep faith. Rebekah wasn’t any cooler, despite losing her hair.
* * *
The following morning, Hannah came into the room. “I’ve good news,” she said. “Miss Kathleen’s fever broke just after sunrise.”
Henry laid his head in his hands. He heaved a sigh. Thank You, Lord. Thank You. “I’m pleased to hear that,” he said to Hannah.
The woman came forward. “She’s resting peacefully now. Sadie’s sittin’ with her.” Hannah looked at Rebekah. “How is she?”
“No change,” Henry said. He could hear the fatigue in his own voice, the discouragement. Hannah could, as well.
“You should rest, Mr. Henry. I’ll look after her for a while.”
“No, Hannah, but thank you. I want to stay. I want to be here when she wakes.”
She nodded slowly, then peered into the nearby pitcher. “Have you been able to get her to drink anything?”
“Not much.”
“I’ll bring you some fresh water and somethin’ for you to eat.”
He appreciated that but didn’t want her to go to the trouble. She needed rest, as well. “Don’t bother about me,” he said.
To that, the older woman only smiled. “But that’s my job, least till Miss Rebekah gets back on her feet.”
Hannah wasn’t the only one who felt the need to look after him. By that afternoon, word had gotten about of the sickness plaguing the Nash family, and there was a steady stream of souls wishing to help.
George Meriwether was the first to arrive. He came bearing notes from the council meeting, promising to keep Henry abreast of any developments, especially in regard to civil unrest. The trial of the Lincoln conspirators had come to conclusion, a guilty verdict having been rendered. The man whom Rebekah had nursed in the hospital—Lewis Powell, now Paine—had been sentenced to hang for his crime. So had several others, including the widowed mother, Mary Surratt.
Henry wasn’t surprised by the first verdict, but he was by the second. Although he and apparently the rest of the council doubted she’d actually be executed, Mayor Chapman suggested that the city police force again be put on high alert in case any Southern sympathizers sought to stir up trouble. Henry laid the council minutes aside. He certainly hoped there would be no trouble, but he would leave the business of Baltimore to his fellow councilmen. Right now, his family was more important.
Sam Ward came next. He delivered to James a pot of soup that his wife insisted on sending and the good news that Grace was still unaffected by fever.
“Thank You, God,” Henry breathed when James told him the news.
“He said Miss Hastings and Mrs. Wainwright plan to send food tomorrow and the next day,” James then reported.
Henry took comfort in their friends’ concern. Still, it grieved him that there had been not one word from Rebekah’s family, not even a token gesture. Do they not care at all that she is so ill? He supposed it unreasonable to think her father would be concerned with her suffering, but Henry had thought that at the very least, her mother would show some sort of attention.
How hard-hearted can they be? Feeling the anger burning inside him, once more he prayed for the grace to forgive.
He still didn’t know if leaving Maryland politics was best, for Rebekah had shown little interest when he’d mentioned the opportunity in Ohio. If they did remain in Baltimore, Henry certainly wasn’t going to campaign for a man who treated his daughter with such little respect.
But I must do my best to live in peace with him, for her sake. And so he continued to pray for the ability to do so.
* * *
Rebekah’s eyelids fluttered open. The veil of murky darkness had finally lifted. She beheld Hannah’s familiar face smiling at her.
“The Lord be praised,” the woman said. “Welcome back, Miss Rebekah.”
Back? Where exactly had she been? A host of mottled memories drifted through her mind, hospital wards...dark streets...but Rebekah wasn’t certain any of them had been real.
“You’ve had the scarlet fever.”
Rebekah blinked. So her memories of wandering had been fever dreams? Vaguely she remembered Hannah helping her into a nightdress and before that, sitting with Kathleen. Then she remembered why. Her pulse quickened. “The girls—”
“They are just fine,” Hannah reassured her. “Miss Grace is with the Ward family, fit as a fiddle, gettin’ fat and sassy, and Miss Kathleen is on the mend. Her fever broke early this mornin’, and that rash of hers is completely gone.” Hannah sponged Rebekah’s forehead lightly, studied her for a moment. “I’d say yours is fading nicely, too.” She put the cloth into the washbasin. “Miss Kathleen has managed a few helpings of beef tea today and now even a little toast. Are you feelin’ up to tryin’ some?”
Just the mention of food made Rebekah’s stomach rumble. She felt as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks. “Yes, please. Thank you...and thank you for taking such good care of us.”
Hannah smiled as if she possessed a wonderful secret. “I was happy to tend to Miss Kathleen. But when it came to lookin’ after you, miss...that wasn’t me,” she said.
She glanced toward her right. Rebekah’s eyes followed. There, just a few feet from her bedside, sat Henry. Chin pressed to his chest, he was sound asleep.
“This is the first he’s slept in three days,” Hannah whispered. “I s’pect he’ll be put out with me for not wakin’ him, but the poor man is spent. He just wouldn’t leave your side. Nursed you the entire time.”
The entire time? So it was his hands that had cooled her forehead? It was his comforting voice she had heard? Rebekah searched her memory. What exactly had he said to her?
“They had to cut your hair,” Hannah said.
My hair? Rebekah’s heart sank. Her one and only beauty was gone?
“Sadie said it ’bout broke Mr. Henry’s heart to ask for the scissors. Couldn’t bring hisself to do it, in the end. Dr. Stanton had to take command.”
It broke his heart?
“You lay still now. I’ll fetch you that tea. Then, when you’re up to it, I’ll help you into a fresh gown.”
Hannah wisely knew Rebekah was too weak to even raise her head, though she wished she could change gowns now. The sweat-drenched cotton was as uncomfortable as it was embarrassing. Glancing down, she realized what nightdress she was wearing—the one her friends had so painstakingly embroidered. Henry had seen the gift for himself now, but not at all in the way it had been intended.
Heat crept up her neck as Rebekah stole another glance at him. How unkempt and indiscreet she must have appeared during those hours of fever. And yet he stayed with me? Never once relegating the task of my care to someone else?
As Hannah tiptoed from the room, Rebekah continued to study her husband. On his lap was not the daily newspaper, or matters of business, but an open Bible. His shirt was soiled. His hair was mussed, and his customarily clean-shaven face now bore the beginnings of a beard. It was far from the polished look of a city councilman, and yet there was something so endearing, so very handsome about him.
Rebekah then remembered those last moments in Kathleen’s room, before her knees had weakened and the darkness rushed in. Henry had been speaking of her time at the hospital and of her father. He knew everything, and he had promised no one would ever hurt her again.
She remembered being lifted in his arms, remembered exactly what words she had heard.
“Rebekah, I love you...”
Her heart came undone. Great tear
s filled her eyes, and a sob she could not contain choked her throat.
Startled by the sound, Henry’s neck snapped up. He immediately came to her side. The expression on his face was one of fear. “God, please...please help her...” Evidently he did not think her lucid.
“Henry...” she whispered.
Relief melted his taut features. “Oh, thank You, God. Thank You.” Brushing his lips lightly against her forehead, he said, “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Rebekah’s heart was so full, she could not speak. She stared up into his blue eyes. Fatigue lined them, but even so, they were as sincere and inviting as the summer sky. What could she say to this man? She’d thought she had known him, understood him, but clearly she had not. How could she even begin to express her gratitude for his faithfulness, his tender affection?
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s all right. You are safe. Kathleen is well. Grace is, too.” He brushed away her tears with his fingers. For the first time she truly welcomed his nearness, his touch.
Hannah returned with the promised tray of food.
“Do you want to try a bit of tea?” Henry asked.
Rebekah nodded.
“Can you sit upright?”
“Y-yes...” Or at least she would try, since he so seemed to wish for it.
Bending low, her husband encircled her with his arms. The muscles Rebekah had once seen as means for control, for domination, she now saw as something else entirely. Henry’s strength was a means of help, of protection. As Elizabeth had once said, he was a man with a true servant’s heart. Rebekah leaned against his chest until she came to rest upon a pile of pillows. Henry then stepped back.
“There now,” Hannah said. “This will fix you.” As she brought forward the tray, he backed quietly to the door and slipped into the hall.
Watching, Rebekah silently wished he had remained.
Chapter Fifteen
Henry stepped from the room and sank against the hallway wall. He was physically drained but emotionally overjoyed. God had answered his prayers, in more ways than one. The fever had finally abated, and in the process, something else had changed. His wife now looked at him with different eyes. He saw it when she spoke his name, saw it again when he leaned her against her pillows. A smile tugged at his tired mouth, for he sensed this was the beginning of a real courtship, a true union, one with commitment and affection on both of their parts.
Thank You, God. Thank You...
Across the hall, he heard the sound of Kathleen’s voice. She was chattering away to Sadie. His smile broadened. Another prayer answered. His strength renewing, he made his way to the little girl’s room. Kathleen was lounging upon her own pile of pillows, showing Sadie the cloth doll Rebekah had created for her.
The young maid smiled and stepped back when she saw him in the doorway. Kathleen grinned, as well. “I’m better,” she announced.
“I can see that,” Henry said as he came to her.
Kathleen’s pert little mouth then turned down with a frown. “But Sadie and Hannah say I can’t go outside.”
“No, not yet,” Henry said, “but soon.”
Her expression brightened. “How soon? When Aunt Rebekah gets better?”
He nodded and hugged her tightly. Kathleen giggled but pulled her face away from his.
“You’re scratchy,” she said.
Letting go of her, Henry ran his hand over his chin. She was right. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It had been days since his face had seen a razor. “What say I remedy that? Then I’ll take you to see your Aunt Rebekah.”
Kathleen nodded eagerly—a little too eagerly, perhaps. Suspecting she would toss back her blankets and hit the floor, Henry told her, “Wait here with Sadie and play with your doll until I return.”
She nodded again, this time with a little less enthusiasm. Satisfied she’d stay put, Henry went to his room. After making the necessary changes, he returned to fetch her.
“You were gone a long time,” Kathleen said.
Henry heard the statement with a smile. Her impatience was a sign of recovery. “Forgive me,” he said. “I wanted to make myself handsome for you and Aunt Rebekah.”
She reached up, her chubby little hand feeling his chin for herself. “You did good. It’s soft now.”
Kathleen put her arms around his neck as Henry carried her across the hall. “Now we mustn’t visit long,” he said. “Aunt Rebekah is still very tired. She needs her rest.”
“When she isn’t tired anymore, will Grace come home?”
“Yes,” Henry said. “Then we can all be together again.” He could hardly wait for that day. For now, though, he knew he must also heed his own command to show patience. Rebekah was out of danger but still far from health. She needed time to heal, not only from the effects of scarlet fever but also from many other scars.
Lord, help me to remember that. Help me to be patient. I don’t want to overwhelm her.
When he reached his wife’s doorway, Henry found Hannah had left and taken the food tray with her. Before going, she had managed to get Rebekah into a new nightdress. His wife looked fatigued but content.
“Someone wants to see you,” Henry said. “Is that all right?”
Rebekah immediately smiled. Despite the ravages of fever, the frail eyes and cropped curly hair, Henry thought her beautiful. He carried Kathleen forward and set her on the edge of the bed, then claimed the chair beside them.
“How are you, love?” Rebekah asked. Her voice was weak, but Henry could plainly hear the motherly concern, the affection.
“I’m all better,” Kathleen told her. She again lamented the fact that she wasn’t yet allowed to play outside.
“Soon,” Rebekah promised.
“That’s what Uncle Henry said.”
His wife offered another fragile smile. “You must listen to what he says. He loves you, and he knows what is best for you.”
Henry felt his confidence swell. He didn’t always know what was best for any of them, but he wanted to do what was best, and if God would grant him the wisdom and the grace, he’d spend the rest of his days proving how much he loved them.
Kathleen noticed her aunt’s hair. “It’s short,” she said.
“Yes,” Rebekah replied, embarrassment darkening her cheeks.
“I think it is beautiful,” Henry said. “Don’t you, Kathleen?”
The little girl nodded. “It’s twisty now.” She reached out and felt one of her aunt’s curls. As she did, Rebekah’s eyes moved to his. They seemed to speak volumes. For a moment, Henry could barely breathe.
Hannah then came back into the room. “Well, Miss Kathleen, your bed is all fresh and ready for you.”
The little girl frowned. She knew what was implied by such a statement.
As much as Henry was enjoying this moment, he knew it was time to go. He could see that Rebekah was growing more tired by the second. “Remember what I told you,” she whispered weakly to Kathleen. “You must listen to Hannah, as well.”
Kathleen nodded once again, but her frown remained.
“That’s a good girl,” Rebekah said. “May I have a kiss?”
The child readily bestowed one. Rebekah embraced her as long as her drained muscles would allow. When her arms slipped back to her sides, Henry claimed Kathleen.
“All right, pretty girl. Aunt Rebekah needs her sleep.”
He was gazing at his blue-eyed child, the one who looked so much like his sister, and remarkably so much like himself, but Henry could feel his wife’s eyes upon him. Did Rebekah know how badly he wished to remain with her? Did she wish for him to do so? If he did stay by her side, would she find his company enjoyable or taxing? Choosing to err on the side of caution, he and Kathleen turned for the door.
Hannah met him. “I�
�ll take her, Mr. Henry,” she said, holding out her arms and smiling. Then in a voice barely audible, she whispered, “I think Miss Rebekah wants you to stay.”
* * *
Rebekah’s heart leapt as she watched Henry pass Kathleen to Hannah. Was he going to stay with her for a little while longer? It might be selfish, childish for certain, but she had wished for him to do so, at least until she was again sleeping.
Fever had marred much of her memory of the past few days, but of one thing she was certain. He had told her he loved her. He had held her in his arms, and she had felt safe in his embrace. She had wanted to hear those words again, feel the beating of his heart.
Henry turned back to her. “Shall I fetch you anything?” he asked.
“N-no,” Rebekah whispered.
He stood there for a moment as though unsure of what to do or say next. Rebekah didn’t know, either. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to ask. She tried to thank him, but her tongue was tied, her thoughts jumbled, especially when Henry settled carefully beside her. He had shaved and changed his clothing. His pressed white shirt was crisp and smelled of that familiar soap powder. He was dressed as though he had very important matters to attend, but he is sitting here with me. “You took care of me,” she said.
“I did.”
“W-why?”
He smiled gently. Rebekah felt a flutter in her chest. “You are my wife,” he said. “It is my privilege to care for you.”
His privilege? No one had ever even so much as hinted it was a privilege to care for her. In her father’s house, she had been an imposition.
My father. She immediately shut her eyes tight. Those moments in the downstairs parlor ripped through her mind. Henry had stood toe to toe with him while holding her in his guard. She had taken her husband’s actions for possessiveness and arrogance. Now she realized they were something else entirely. Henry had been demonstrating to her father that she was now part of his household and that she was no longer subject to her father’s control.
The Reluctant Bridegroom Page 21