Head in the Clouds

by Karen Witemeyer

  Slowly, she drew her hands away from his face, her fingers leaving quivers of awareness in their wake. He wanted to grab her and keep her at his side, but he let her go. And as she walked out the back door, he prayed that God would send her an answer soon. He feared his time was running out.

  Chapter 32

  Adelaide staggered out the back door in a daze. Gideon loved her. He loved her! Elation tugged her spirit upward, like a kite on the wind, yet the severity of his injury yanked her back down to earth. She had dreamed of falling in love with and marrying a handsome hero, but not like this. Not when their life together might only consist of days or hours. She wanted happily ever after.

  A good hard ride always cleared her head and aided her prayers; however, that was out of the question. It was dark now, and Juan had her horse. She tilted her head back to view the sky past the porch overhang. Stars peeked through the darkness, and a half-moon glowed overhead. Light in the darkness. Hope.

  The chaos within her lessened.

  She stepped off the porch and a gusty wind set her skirt flapping. Not sure which direction to take, Adelaide hesitated, letting the wind buffet her for a moment.

  “Don’t go far, miss.” Miguel’s voice startled her. She turned and found him in the shadows, one foot braced on the railing and the butt of his rifle balanced on his upraised thigh. “Señor Westcott no like it if something happen to you.”

  “Don’t worry.” Adelaide smiled up at him, pulling a windblown strand of hair from the corner of her mouth. “I’ll stay within sight of the house. I only need a few minutes.”

  He nodded to her, and she continued on. Her feet led her to the corral, and a sense of rightness settled over her. Perhaps she felt at peace here because Sheba had been her confidante for so many years—through her father’s death and her move to Boston, as well as the debacle with Henry Belcher. Even with Sheba away, the smell of hay and the sound of horses shifting in their stalls soothed her.

  Keeping her word to Miguel, Adelaide chose a spot along the front fence line. She sat down beside a post and leaned her back against it as she hugged her knees to her chest.

  “What would you have me do, Lord?” A strong breeze carried her whispered petition toward the heavens. “I love him and want to be his wife, but is that your will? Did you lead me here for more than Isabella?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes, and the back of her throat began to itch. “I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want Isabella to lose him, either. You tell us to rest before you and wait patiently for you to act, but I fear my patience is tattered. Have mercy on me, Lord. Show me your way … quickly.”

  Adelaide lifted her head and wiped an errant tear from her cheek. She gazed at the moon, finding comfort in its brightness until a whistled signal brought her head around. Juan was riding in, the doctor’s buggy behind him. Miguel must have announced their arrival, for James and Chalmers rushed out of the house to greet them. Adelaide started to stand, anxious to converse with the physician, but an inner voice told her to stay.

  James could describe the wound and recount the treatment she had given. Chalmers could fetch whatever might be needed for the examination. Mrs. Chalmers was there to look after Isabella. She could afford to wait a little longer. To seek the Lord’s answer. She just needed to trust God enough to be still.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t want to be still. She wanted to run to the house and consult with the doctor, to watch over his shoulder as he tended Gideon, to absorb everything he said and did. Paralyzed with indecision, she watched as Chalmers escorted the doctor and a second man into the house. James looked around a moment as if searching for her in the darkness, then shut the door.

  Adelaide’s heart demanded that she hurry and join them. Her soul urged her to be still before the Lord. The battle tossed her back and forth for several minutes before she surrendered at last to her spirit’s call.

  With effort, she dragged her gaze from the kitchen door and directed it once again to the moon suspended low in the sky above Westcott Cottage. The wind blew silhouetted clouds in front of the bright half circle, successively blocking and then unveiling its glow. She sat numbly for several minutes, staring heavenward, her mind unfocused. Clouds continued to breeze past.

  Except for one.

  Adelaide leaned forward and squinted. One cloud stubbornly refused to move. Perhaps it hung at a lower altitude, where the wind currents were different, or maybe her eyes were simply playing tricks on her, but her heart sped up just the same. Could it be that the figurative cloud the Lord had used to direct her there had become a physical signal for her to stay?

  “ ‘And when the cloud was taken up from over the tabernacle,’ ” she quoted under her breath, “ ‘the children of Israel went onward in all their journeys: But if the cloud were not taken up, then they journeyed not till the day that it was taken up.’ ”

  Her cloud had not been taken up.

  Adelaide’s heart seized upon the excuse to follow her heart’s desire, while logic argued that the weather phenomenon was a coincidence of nature. Adelaide closed her eyes and looked deeper for her answers. Deeper than intelligence could take her. Further even than the depths of her emotions. She looked to her soul for confirmation. And there she found it. The Lord wanted her right where she was. With Gideon.

  Doubts extinguished, she leapt to her feet and raced back to the house, nearly giddy in her eagerness to accept Gideon’s proposal. She bit her lip in a futile effort to keep her smile contained, yet when she opened the door to an empty kitchen, it faded all on its own. The table was bare. Surely he hadn’t … hadn’t …

  “Gideon!”

  She pushed through the door that led to the hall and collided with Mrs. Garrett. Adelaide grabbed the older woman’s arm to help steady her.

  “Mabel, where’s—”

  “They took him upstairs to his room. Don’t get your knickers in a knot. He’s still breathing.”

  Air whooshed out of her lungs, and relief weakened her knees. Suddenly she was the one unsteady on her feet.

  “Doc should be done with him pretty soon. Oh, and the preacher’s in there, too. Praying, I guess. Although why he couldn’t do that from town is hard to figure. It’s not like the good Lord ain’t already aware of what’s going on.”

  The preacher. Adelaide’s stomach fluttered. He wasn’t just there to pray. She’d better tidy her appearance and throw on a clean dress. It seemed her wedding day had arrived.

  Gideon had expected the luxury of his fine hair mattress and goose-feather pillows to bring him a measure of relief after spending what seemed an eternity on the unyielding kitchen table. However, being carted upstairs like a dangling deer carcass and poked and prodded by Dr. Bellows left him feeling as if he’d been moved to purgatory instead of his bedchamber. He breathed a sigh of relief when the doctor finally finished wrapping him back up and started preparing a morphine injection.

  “This will help with the pain and will probably make you sleepy.” Dr. Bellows walked toward his bed, a hypodermic syringe in hand.

  Gideon was more than ready to have his pain eased, but he needed his mind clear for a little longer. He had to wait for Adelaide’s answer.

  Reluctantly, he shook his head and ignored the man’s raised eyebrows. “Not yet, Dr. Bellows. I have a few matters to attend to first. In fact, I was hoping that you and the parson would witness the signing of my new will.”

  Understanding mixed with pity dawned in the middle-aged man’s eyes. “Of course, Mr. Westcott. I would be honored.” He returned to the bureau and carefully laid the syringe atop his roll of instruments.

  James pushed away from the wall beside Gideon’s headboard. “I’ll fetch the papers,” he said and strode toward the small desk situated beneath the window across the room.

  He and Brother Kent had remained with Gideon during the examination, flanking him on either side of the bed. James had lent the physician a hand whenever it was required, while the minister quietly prayed in the background. Kent ha
dn’t been too thrilled when Gideon explained his intention to marry Adelaide before knowing if he would survive. But he’d agreed to perform the rite if the lady consented. Now all they needed was the lady.

  A soft knock sounded on the door. Dr. Bellows was closest, so he stepped forward and opened it. Adelaide glided into the room, a delicate blush staining her cheeks. Gideon’s eyes connected with hers for only a moment before she turned back to the doctor, but the love conveyed in that brief glance stole his breath.

  “You must be Miss Proctor. I’ve been admiring your handiwork.” Dr. Bellows took her arm and led her toward Gideon.

  She had changed into her sunshine calico and pinned her hair back into place. Gideon’s pulse leapt as hope swelled within him. It was possible that Addie had simply tidied her appearance because they had company, but he preferred to believe another motivation had inspired the change. One that involved him and the answer to a particular question.

  “You did a fine job cleaning the wound site, my dear.” Dr. Bellows patted the back of her hand and grinned at her. “If you ever find yourself in need of a new position, I could use a nurse with your skills.”

  “Thank you, but …” Addie’s gaze dropped to the floor, and her blush deepened. “As to positions … well … I’ve decided to accept one that was offered to me just this evening. A permanent position.” She lifted her eyes and smiled shyly at Gideon. Joy exploded in his chest.

  He swallowed hard and tried to find his voice. “Addie, do you mean … ?”

  “Yes, Gideon. I will be your wife.”

  Not even the morphine waiting in the syringe across the room could make him feel better than he felt at that moment.

  Adelaide let go of the doctor’s arm and clutched Gideon’s hand, her gaze sinking into him like warm butter into toast. “No matter what comes.”

  He squeezed her fingers with what strength he could muster and echoed her pledge. “No matter what comes.”

  A throat cleared behind them, and Adelaide pulled her gaze away from Gideon as the preacher elbowed his way between them.

  “I have agreed to marry the two of you, for I know you both to be God-fearing people who would not enter into matrimony lightly. However, I have to ask you, Miss Proctor, if you are certain. Knowing the truth about Westcott’s condition, are you willing to enter into this sacred union even if it is to end in sorrow?”

  Gideon’s wound throbbed more menacingly as he waited for her answer. Her grip on his hand remained steady, though, as she met Brother Kent’s eye. “All marriages eventually end in sorrow, do they not? The joy comes in cherishing what time you are able to share.”

  The minister smiled at her, all reservations erased from his features. Gideon relaxed, as well. How had he ever managed to win this incredible woman for his own? She deserved so much better than a man on his last leg, yet he couldn’t imagine letting her go.

  “Very well, then, we can proceed whenever you’re ready,” the minister proclaimed.

  “Balderdash!” Dr. Bellows scowled down at them. “It’s obvious the girl is caught up in some romantic fantasy about granting a dying man’s request.”

  “A living man’s request,” Adelaide interrupted, her chin jutting out at a stubborn angle.

  Gideon grinned. She was a fighter all right. His fighter.

  The doctor went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “You can’t in good conscience marry them, Kent. She obviously doesn’t know the truth about his condition. I haven’t even talked with her yet.”

  “Then talk, Doctor.” Adelaide crossed her arms over her chest and braced her legs apart as if facing a physical battle. The man glared down at her. Gideon’s jaw tightened. James came up beside him and laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.

  “Men don’t recover from abdominal wounds, Miss Proctor. They die a slow, agonizing death. Are you prepared to listen to his screams? To watch him wither away from malnutrition? To endure the bruises when he lashes out at you in fevered delirium?”

  “Yes.”

  Her quiet statement rang with assurance. Dr. Bellows’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, uncertainty hovered over his features before he shook his head and regained his cynicism.

  “You can’t possibly understand—”

  “Enough, Bellows.” Gideon would not allow the man to insult Addie. Her beautiful spirit and fanciful imagination were part of what he loved about her, part of her strength. “Your professional opinion is welcome, but your cruelty … is not. You will address Miss Proctor with respect and courtesy or you will … leave my home.”

  “It’s all right, Gideon. He’s just testing me. Aren’t you, Doctor?” Her face softened and her arms slid down to her sides as she tilted her head to regard the physician with a mixture of curiosity and conviction.

  “You know firsthand how hard it is to watch someone die,” she continued. “That’s why you distance yourself. You have to in your profession. However, I’m not in your profession. If I choose to draw nearer to Gideon despite the pain it might cause, that is my right. I’m not a foolish girl whose dreams keep me from acknowledging reality. Yes, I agreed to marry him, but I also dressed his wounds. I have contemplated his mortality, Doctor. Nevertheless, I cling to hope and will dose him with it every chance I get.”

  Dr. Bellows ran a hand through his thinning hair and sighed. “You are right, of course. It’s not my place to interfere. It’s just that …” The man suddenly looked older than his years. “I know the pain of losing a spouse. I thought only to spare you that.”

  Compassion stirred in Gideon’s heart. He’d forgotten the man was a widower. Now that he could see past the bluster, he recognized the grief still etched into his face. Would Addie have the same worn look in a few years? Or would her faith ease her grief?

  She looked at him then, and he knew in his bones that Addie belonged to him, and he to her. Hope shone in her eyes, and he felt his own dreams awaken. Her courage bolstered his, infusing him with the will to fight. For the first time since José’s bullet pierced his skin, he began to believe, truly believe, that recovery was possible.

  “If you want to spare me pain, Doctor,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand, “help me make him well.”

  Chapter 33

  Her wedding looked nothing like the one in her dreams. A sickroom instead of a chapel with stained-glass windows. An everyday calico dress instead of tiers of golden satin and ivory lace. Her groom propped up in bed, lines of strain etching his face instead of the smiling man she’d imagined standing proudly at the end of an aisle. No flowers. No music. No crowd of well-wishers. Yet one element permeated the event exactly as she had envisioned it.

  Love.

  From Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers, who leaned into each other and nodded while the preacher expounded on the virtues of marriage, to Mabel Garrett, who dabbed her eyes with her apron every two minutes. Isabella, in her cotton nightgown and bare feet, beamed as she joined in the ceremony, placing her own small hands atop Adelaide’s and Gideon’s joined ones. But the strongest evidence of all lay in the intensity of emotion that glimmered in Gideon’s eyes as he vowed to cherish her. His love was so raw, so transparent, so true that no chapel or dress or flowers could have improved upon the moment.

  It might not have been the wedding of her dreams, but it was the wedding of her heart.

  After all the necessary documents had been signed and witnessed, Adelaide began shooing people from the room. Gideon’s wan complexion worried her, as did the way he slumped over his pillows at a crooked angle, too exhausted to hold his head up properly.

  “Mrs. Chalmers?” Adelaide motioned the housekeeper to her side. “Please make up the guest chamber for Brother Kent. You may put Dr. Bellows in my room.” A touch of heat warmed her face. “I’ll be staying with my husband tonight.”

  My husband. The thought sent delightful little shivers dancing down her arms.

  The housekeeper smiled knowingly at her. “I’ll see to it at once, Mrs. Westcott.”

  Ade
laide bit back her burgeoning grin and turned to the cook.

  “Mrs. Garrett, would you mind putting together a cold supper for those of us who have not eaten yet tonight? With all the excitement, I don’t believe our guests have been offered any refreshment after their journey.”

  Mabel swiped at her eyes a final time and reclaimed her usual sour expression, hiding away the tender heart that everyone in the house knew existed behind her grumpy façade.

  “The beef’s probably dry as kindling by now, but I’ll see if I can salvage enough for sandwiches.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Garrett. I know you’ll work wonders. You always do.”

  Isabella tugged on Adelaide’s skirt. “Can I sing my song now, Miss Addie? Papa Gidyon’s already in bed.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but Dr. Bellows murmured in her ear, arresting the words on her tongue. “He needs a morphine injection first, ma’am. He’s been battling a long time.”

  Adelaide wrapped her arm around her new daughter’s shoulder as she glanced back toward Gideon. He’d held the pain at bay for hours and was now paying the price for his courage. His eyes were closed, yet his face was far from relaxed. Deep lines cut into his forehead and around his mouth. Her heart ached with his suffering.

  “Why don’t we let Dr. Bellows give him his medicine first, Izzy,” she said, giving the girl’s arm a squeeze. “Then you can sing. I know your papa is looking forward to it.”

  Dr. Bellows nodded to her and retrieved the syringe from the bureau. Adelaide steered Isabella away from the sight of the needle and moved to join James and Brother Kent by the window. Despite her concern for her husband, she plopped her best hostess smile into place and clasped the preacher’s hand.

  “Thank you so much for coming out to the ranch tonight, Parson. Your prayers have been a blessing. And even though our request to marry was rushed and unconventional, our vows were true, and the words you spoke over us were lovely.”