Dreamkeepers

by Dorothy Garlock

  Late in the evening she awoke, aware she needed to use the bathroom. She lay dreading to make the move. Finally she could wait no longer and got out of bed on trembling limbs and stood for a while holding onto the end of the bed until her fuzzy head cleared. She staggered to the bathroom and closed the door louder than usual in her anxiety to hurry. She was making her way back to the door while holding onto the wash basin when Adam knocked, then opened the door.

  “Are you all right, love?” He picked her up in his arms and hurried her back to bed. Lowering her gently, he tucked the covers around her. She was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering.

  He went to the kitchen and returned with a bundle that he thrust under the covers at her feet.

  “Tim-Two and I have been heating stones on the range. I’ve wrapped them in a towel.” Kneeling down, he put his arms around her blanket-wrapped form and hugged her close, trying to warm her. Gradually her shaking ceased and he sat on the side of the bed.

  “I’m making some broth. Tim-Two says you’ve got to drink it. He’s been worried about you. He’s keeping the house so warm he’s about to roast me out!” he said teasingly.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without you,” she said in a weak and trembling voice.

  “It’s about time for your medicine again and I must take your temperature. If it isn’t down by morning, the doctor is coming back.”

  “No, Adam,” she protested, “I’m better now. It must have been terribly expensive to bring the doctor out here.”

  “Expensive, be damned,” he fumed. “I’ll have him come five times a day if we need him.”

  Tears brightened her eyes. She quickly closed her lids so he would not see. He squeezed her hand, kissed her brow, and went back to the kitchen.

  Later he brought a warm wet cloth and washed her face and hands. Then to her amazement he turned her gently so he could brush her hair. A feeling of sheer pleasure passed through her sore and aching body. When he had finished to his satisfaction, he put an extra pillow under her head.

  “Now, you’ve got to eat something.” He came back minutes later with a tray he had already prepared, set it on her nightstand, and handed her a mug of warm broth.

  “Can you hold this?” he asked. “If not, I can hold it for you.”

  She reached for the cup with shaky fingers. The broth was amazingly good. When she thought she had all she could hold, she extended the cup back to him, but he shook his head.

  “All of it,” he commanded, and she obeyed.

  When he left again and she settled down in the bed, her confused mind wouldn’t rest until she tried to analyze his unusual behavior toward her; his kindness and compassion, his willingness to minister to her. Could it be he felt sorry for her? Oh, God, she thought, not that. She didn’t want his pity. It’s a brotherly feeling he has for me. That’s it. I’m his little sister again and I don’t want that either!

  She could hear him swearing in the kitchen. He’s all man, she thought. Tim-Two came in the back door and Dog came padding into the bedroom. He laid his big head on the bed and little whimpers came from his throat. Molly reached out her hand and rubbed his head. Finally he stretched out on the floor and twitched his ears as if trying to understand why she was in bed this time of night.

  Lulled to sleep by the murmur of voices and the warmth of the bed, Molly awakened when Adam came into the room carrying the transistor radio and the gaslamp. It was late. She thought she had only dozed.

  “What time is it?”

  “About midnight. I’ve been waiting to give you your medicine.”

  “I’m sorry you had to wait.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve been listening to the radio. We’ve had a very big snowfall.” He put his arm under her and lifted her shoulders so she could drink. “How do you feel?”

  “Better, I think.” Her voice was weak and she was shaking again. “But I get so cold.”

  “We’ll remedy that.” He took off his robe and flung it over the chair.

  Molly’s startled eyes took in the broad bare shoulders, the wide chest with dark hair going down to his pajama bottoms, the strong brown throat, and the muscled arms. He looked so different, so masculine, and . . . athletic. Her frightened eyes must have conveyed her feelings.

  He laughed softly, turned out the gaslight, and lifted the cover as he slid into bed beside her.

  “Don’t be frightened, love. I can feel your heart pounding like a little rabbit caught in a trap.”

  He turned her so her back was toward him and wrapped himself around her spoon fashion, her head pillowed on his arm. He tucked the covers around them and enfolded her in his arms.

  “Isn’t this better than being alone?” he whispered in her ear. Then teasingly, “I’m not going to seduce you, kitten. I’ll wait until you’re spitting and scratching!”

  It was difficult for Molly to think coherently. The nearness of the warm body pressing against hers with nothing between them but the thin material of her nightdress and his pajama pants was both comforting and disturbing. Questions lay like a coiled snake inside of her, the residue of past hurts. Then uncaring for anything but the moment, she relaxed against him conscious of the rhythmic thumping of his heart against her back.

  His probing fingers smoothed the hair from around her ear. His lips nuzzled her neck. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you for your medicine.”

  Her hand moved to his and her fingers interlaced with his fingers. She knew no more, drifting deeply into her first natural sleep of several days.

  She lay motionless, her body aching, but aware she was alone in the bed. She shifted her position and opened her mouth to call, but the words didn’t come. Was she alone? Had she dreamed someone was with her? Weak tears ran down her cheeks. Then he appeared in the door, flashlight in one hand and a glass in the other. Relief flooded over her.

  “Time for this stuff again,” he said when he saw she was awake. “I’ve put more fuel on the fire, I think it’s getting colder.”

  When he put out his light and got into bed beside her, he lay on his back and cuddled her against his side. Feeling the wetness of her cheek where it lay on his shoulder, he tilted her face and kissed her tearstained eyes.

  “What’s the matter? Head aching again?”

  She said nothing, but stretched her arm across his bare chest and pressed closer to him.

  “Want me to rub your back?”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “But I want to,” he persisted, and rolled her so she lay almost on top of him. His hand went up and down her back, rubbing and massaging the sore muscles. It felt so good! Being so intimately close to him was wonderful. A small sigh escaped her. He chuckled softly and kissed her forehead.

  “Having a husband isn’t all bad, is it, love? Go to sleep. It’ll be morning soon.”

  The next morning the ground was covered with deep new snow. The day began when Adam came into her room and sat down on the side of the bed. Laying his hand on her forehead, then his palm to her cheek, he pronounced her fever broken and said the doctor would not have to come back out after all.

  Molly, a little fuzzy in the head from the fever and the medication Adam had given her the night before, lay motionless. She was too weak to do anything else.

  “Hungry?”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “You’re going to have breakfast.”

  He was no sooner out the door than Molly reached for the comb on her nightstand and flicked it through her hair, and then, making sure Adam was still in the kitchen, reached for the cold cream jar, and quickly dug her fingers into the cream and smeared it on her face. Seconds later she had wiped it off on a tissue that she concealed beneath her pillow.

  Adam didn’t knock at the door. He came into the room as if it was his own. He carried a small round tray with a bowl of something steaming on it. He put the tray on the nightstand and sat down on the bed again.

  He smiled. It was a beautiful smile and it wrung Molly’s h
eart.

  “Good morning!” he said as if he hadn’t seen her minutes before.

  “Good morning.” The intimacy of last night was making her self-conscious and she hesitated to meet his eyes.

  He leaned forward and put his hands on either side of her pillow and, resting on them, looked down at her face. Quickly he bent forward and kissed her on the lips. It wasn’t a loving kiss; it was a kiss, however, and Molly loved it. When he lifted his head, she wished he would do it again. Her dark-lashed violet eyes looked into his dark ones.

  “You smell nice,” he said thoughtfully. “It must be the cold cream.” His eyes flicked over her face, taking in everything. “And you’ve combed your hair,” he added.

  Molly flushed and looked away from him. Even if he noticed, why did he have to mention it? He was smiling and the only thing she could do was to smile back.

  “I’ve made oatmeal,” he announced.

  Once again he leaned forward and once again he kissed her . . . very gently.

  He stood and placed the tray on her lap. “Eat,” he commanded, and went out.

  Molly didn’t realize how much better she felt until after she had eaten. The meal had been simple, but delicious; cooked oatmeal with a generous sprinkling of brown sugar, buttered toast, and hot cocoa. She wondered when Adam had learned to cook. She must remember to ask him. Moving the empty tray from her lap to the nearby chair she slid out of bed and looked around for her robe. Her eyes fell on the neatly folded clothes she had worn the day she became ill. An unexpected thrill passed through her at the thought of Adam undressing her. The nightdress he had chosen for her that night was flannel and revealed little, but nonetheless, he had seen all of her. A helpless feeling of discomfiture came over her. She found her robe and wrapped it tightly around her.

  During that day and the days that followed, Adam was kindness itself. He poured warm bath water for her and while she was bathing he changed her bed. He wrapped her in a blanket and laid her on the couch, tuned the radio for her, or fetched magazines. He cooked good meals and insisted she eat to gain her strength back. He never came back to her bed after she was up and around. At the end of the week Molly was well enough to take over her household chores and Adam went back to his work on her father’s files in the bedroom.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AFTER A WEEK of below-zero weather Adam was sure the ice on the lake was sufficient to support the ski plane. He needed to bring in a large amount of supplies and it was much easier to get them to the house from the lake than from the clearing where the helicopter had to land.

  He called for the helicopter to come for him after making sure Tim-Two would be around to check on Molly.

  “You’ll go my next trip. Dad is getting anxious to see you again. Pat will be coming out in a week or two so we’ll be needing extra supplies. Make a list. It will give you something to do while I’m gone.” He grinned at her. “And don’t take a notion to clean the house from top to bottom. You’re not strong enough yet.”

  “I won’t,” she assured him. “I’ve got my knitting. I’ll sit by the fire like Mother Hubbard!”

  He tugged at a strand of her hair, a crooked little grin on his face, and Molly felt her heart thudding. When they heard the plane overhead, he went out the door. She watched until he was out of sight beyond the timber.

  Molly leaned her head back and gazed into the fire. She found herself obsessed with the memory of Adam’s face—the narrowed dark eyes that carried such varied emotions when they looked at her. She had seen those eyes in so many different moods. They had laughed, teased, smiled, grown fierce with anger. She found she could not bear to think of them looking into hers with icy coolness in their depths. She wondered if she would be able to bear the loneliness when he went away for good. It’s lonely now, knowing he’s coming back, she told herself, but how will it be when I know he’ll never . . . she shook herself. She didn’t want to think about it.

  Adam’s voice came in on the radio, calling from the helicopter.

  “How about it, Molly? Got a copy?”

  She picked up the mike and pressed the button. Her heart was pounding.

  “Ten-four, Adam,” she said breathlessly. “I have a good copy.”

  “I’ll be back in a few hours with the ski plane. Stay tuned in and I’ll call as soon as I’m in range. Ten-four?”

  “Ten-four, Adam. I’ll be listening.”

  The day went rather fast. Molly had several calls on the radio from neighbors going over in their planes. She would chat easily with them until they were out of range. Tim-Two came in to check on the stoves. Later in the afternoon she became tired of knitting and made a chocolate cake. She decided to divide it this time and she iced one-half on two separate plates and sent a plate back with Tim-Two when he came again to check the stoves.

  It was getting dusk when Adam’s voice boomed into the quiet house.

  “Break, break, Molly. Do you have a copy?” He repeated the call anxiously before she could pick up the mike.

  “I’m here, Adam. How far out are you?”

  “So you finally answered.” He had a chill in his voice. Molly’s heart sank, then lurched when he added, “I was getting worried.” Her throat was so tight she could hardly answer.

  “I just picked up your call. Do you have us in view?”

  “I can see you down there.” Then with a teasing note in his voice, “Is my dinner ready?”

  “Now I hear the plane,” Molly said. “And, no, I don’t have your dinner ready, I thought you were taking me out tonight.” There was a faint giggle in her voice.

  “I’ll take you out all right. I’ll take you out to the woodshed.”

  Then before she could answer he cleared off the channel.

  Molly was happy. He was back again! He came into the house stamping fresh snow from his boots, his arms full of packages, his eyes sweeping the house as if he was glad to be back.

  “Come, wife, and kiss me.”

  Molly’s face reddened. She looked at his black eyes that were dancing merrily at her discomfort.

  “Come,” he repeated, and she went to him and placed warm lips on his cold ones for a brief instant.

  “Hum . . .” he said. “I got a better kiss from Dog when he came to meet me.”

  Her eyes twinkled up at him. She took his packages and put them on the chair beside the door, so he could take off his coat.

  “You’re getting snow all over,” she fussed to hide her happiness at having him home again.

  “Did you miss me?” he persisted.

  “Of course, it was nice and quiet all day!”

  He hung up his coat, put away his boots, then in his stocking feet brought his bundles to the table. Opening one, he produced several bottles of liquor.

  “If I’d had this the other night, I would have made you a hot toddy,” he said. “And in way of a celebration, I’ve brought home some barbequed ribs!”

  Molly wondered if he realized he had said, “brought home.” Could a man like Adam ever consider this small cabin his home?

  “I baked a chocolate cake!” she announced.

  “. . . and I brought you a present.”

  “You didn’t . . . ?”

  “I did.”

  He handed her the largest of his packages and stood with a grin on his face while she opened it.

  Her hands were shaking and her fingers felt all thumbs, but she managed to tear away the paper and remove the lid from the box. She lifted out a soft, fluffy, violet-colored robe, and under the robe, were matching woolly slippers.

  She looked up and met his eyes; her own were enormous in her flushed face. She couldn’t move or speak.

  “I knew it,” he was saying. “I knew the minute I saw this robe it was the color of your eyes.” He took it from her and held it open. “Try it on.”

  “Thank . . . you,” Molly stammered. “I . . . don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, just don’t say: ‘oh, Adam, you shouldn’t!’” His voice was high and f
unny and she giggled.

  “Well?” She turned so he could see her from all angles.

  “Just fits,” he said. “I knew it would. I told the girl you came up to here on me.” He held his hand up to under his chin. “And I told her you were about this big around.” He made a small circle with his hands.

  She grinned broadly, her eyes bright, her face radiant.

  “I love it,” she told him.

  It was a meal to remember. Adam heated the ribs in the hot oven and Molly made a salad. In the warm, cozy atmosphere of the kitchen they ate the ribs with their fingers before finishing off the cake. Afterward Adam helped with cleaning up, but told her he wasn’t making a habit of doing so. Later, they sat before the fireplace and planned next week’s trip to Anchorage.

  “We should leave early,” Adam said, “and spend about four hours there.”

  “How was your father?” Molly asked.

  “Doing well, considering. He always asks about you.” He was sitting on the floor, his back to the couch. Dog had come to him and placed his head on his thigh to be petted. Adam scratched his big ears.

  Molly bowed her head over the sweater she had started for Adam. She had bought the Australian wool last year on an impulse, not really knowing what she was going to make out of it. Just this afternoon it had occurred to her that the off-white color would go well with Adam’s dark good looks. She hadn’t told him what she was working on and he hadn’t asked.

  Now that the weather had turned cold all the doors inside the cabin were left open because they needed the extra heat in the bedrooms. The bathroom doors were left open at night when the room wasn’t in use. Adam, being the last each night to use the room, opened both the door to Molly’s room and his own before he went to bed.

  Molly, now, lay in her bed and listened to the sounds coming from the other bedroom. She thought of the two nights he had spent in her bed. How sweet and gentle he had been! Would it be so wrong, she thought, to let him make love to me? We’re married! Could I bear for him to leave me after knowing what it feels like to be possessed by him?