by Stephy Smith
****
Sam made his way to the lake and scooped up two pails of water. He slowly moved back up the path to the smoldering remains of Aleandro and Rosanna. Steam rose in the air as tiny droplets hissed and bounced from the heat. A bone-chilling shudder ran the length of him.
He glanced at Aisley. She sat rocking back and forth, staring at the charred figures. Her eyes were red and swollen. There were no words of wisdom to offer. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Walking to where she sat, he placed his arms around her, pulled her into him, and let his sorrow mix with hers.
Sam released his hold on her and stood. His heart was heavy as he walked to the vardo and pulled a couple of boards from it. He brought out his knife and carved their names upon the flat surface.
At sunrise, Sam dug one big grave for Aleandro and Rosanna. Trying not to separate the charred bodies, he moved them into their final resting place. His muscles ached as he leaned on the shovel and stepped back to give Aisley several minutes alone.
He entered the vardo and removed the items they would need on the trail. Carefully, he packed them in his saddlebags. He rolled a few extra blankets and slung them across the back of his horse. Then he rejoined Aisley at the grave. Sam said a few words over them, and then covered the grave and placed the marker he had made. The smell of the freshly dug dirt was faint in the air as the stench of death overpowered it.
Aisley’s eyes were dull, clouded, and lifeless. Sam tried sending her healing energy, but her body seemed to refuse it. Getting her to the camp where he would have help from everyone else’s energy and love was important to her mental and physical health.
He knew it was going to take a long time for Aisley to be free of the gruesome way her parents had died. It was going to take him a long time to forget that horrible scene as well. Although he was there and experienced it with her, it was her parents, and he prayed his love would be strength enough to sustain her until they could reach the safety of the others.
Aisley leaned into Sam as he guided her to one of the horses. The tremors flowing from her concerned him. He glanced at the blank stare of her eyes. She let out a low grown as he lifted her into the saddle. Taking the reins, he climbed onto his horse and slowly walked, making sure Aisley stayed in the saddle.
The hot sun beat down on them as they made their way toward the new camp. Sam watched as Aisley seemed to lose the will to live. He stopped the horses and let her rest under a tree for a few hours. He gathered some wild berries and roots to brew some tea and he forced Aisley to take a few sips.
Sam’s worries grew as Aisley regressed further into a catatonic state. He needed his own mother and father to help him figure out what to do for her. Lifting his face to the sky, he searched for an answer.
Overhead white puffy clouds collected, and the wind whipped, picking up speed. The wildlife seemed to have abandoned the area, leaving a dead calm surrounding the couple. Sam needed to find a suitable shelter for Aisley.
They had the blankets from the Smith vardo to cover up with. There had been only two that hadn’t been destroyed in the fire. Sam would have to improvise to keep Aisley safe and warm if the weather turned cold. This seemed like the biggest test he would have to endure for the love of his woman. He was willing to go to the ends of the earth for her.
Sam searched the area for a place to camp, but there wasn’t one. With a few hours of daylight left, he made the decision to move on toward the rest of the clan. Or at least until he could find suitable shelter for them.
She wobbled from side to side on the horse. Sam held his breath. His arms strained as he lifted her to his horse and led hers. They had been riding for four hours when he noticed she had grown too weary to continue. The clouds darkened as a storm brewed around them.
Up ahead he spotted a small clearing. It was the best place they had come across to set up camp. He pulled the horses to a stop. After he removed her from the horse, he raised his hand to her face. It was hot and beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. Her skin was pale, her eyes hollow. Sam propped her up next to a large cypress tree. He hurriedly made a soft bed from grass he gathered from the area. Just a few yards from the camp, in the dense underbrush, he set up the snare he brought from the Smith’s vardo.
The cloud-covered sky had now let down its curtain, letting a few sprinkles fall to the thirsty ground below. Determination spread through his body as he hastened his pace, weaving the branches over the bed to keep most of the rain out. He unsaddled the horses and carried the saddles into their shelter. Sam pulled the blankets and supplies from the saddlebags.
Aisley’s body was limp in his arms as he moved her to the grass bed. His hand grew sticky. He noticed the bright red blood hidden under her arm. He raised her arm and stared at the round hole burned in her blouse — a bullet wound. He scolded himself for not noticing the wound before. He had to act quickly before he lost her into a world never to return. She was the most important thing in his life and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice her without a fight.
From the time they were children he had reflected many times over the years how she would look up at him and in her angelic voice would tell him, “I love you, Samuel Oscar Grey.” In an odd sort of way, he knew he needed to hear those words from her again. Since then, there had been no other woman who could brighten his world like Aisley. Her life rested in his hands; it was a test of his long-suppressed love that dangled in his mind. If she lived through this, he would make her his wife. He loved her and there would never be another woman for him.
Taking his knife, he cut the material away from the wound. The wound was red and angry. The smell of rotten flesh turned his stomach. Searching through his saddlebags he found the herbs he needed. His fingers fumbled with the sticks as he hurried to light a fire. He drew in a deep breath before he continued.
Pouring water from the canteen into one of the pots, he boiled it and ground the herbs to make a poultice, leaving some left over for the next application. He seared his knife, bring the blade to a red-hot glow and cut her delicate skin. She didn’t move or scream out from the pain. The pulsing of his blood picked up a beat. Sam was worried she would give up and join her mother and father.
”Do you remember when we were children? I would hold your hand and take you around camp telling everyone you were my wife. I don’t know when I fell in love with you. It may have been then or the night I watched you dance… but you snuck into my heart and I do not wish to remove you.”
He stared at her a few minutes. Even in the dreadful depths of her sleep, she still pulled the breath from his lungs as if she needed it to survive. Keeping his voice soft, he told her another wayward story of Princess Aisley’s adventures.
Hour after hour he continued to watch over her. He wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead. In his mind, he thought he was babbling. Most of the time he didn’t know what he had or had not told her. The world seemed to blur as he concentrated on his efforts to heal her.
His fear of losing her reached deep inside. Grief ripped through him. For the first time in his life, he was afraid. He shook his head in regret for not paying more attention to her physical performance. All of the things he should have told her came pouring out of his mouth. He begged to take her place so she wouldn’t have to go through this, so he wouldn’t have to go through this. She had been through enough.
Tears of grief flowed freely and unashamedly as the reality settled in the core of his being. He prayed non-stop as he felt the loss of what was transpiring in his once peaceful world. He welcomed the cooling rain that didn’t do anything but confirm he wasn’t mourning for Aisley alone.
Keeping his vigil over her, he made up the next batch of poultice. Cleaning the wound with warm water, making sure he didn’t get it on the rest of her skin. He boiled his knife and then brought the blade to a heated glow to lance the wound and apply the new poultice.
He hated torturing her beautiful soft skin this way and yet, he couldn’t let her die without her knowing his feeling
s for her. Feelings so deep and so strong, nothing or no one could ever replace them if something happened to her. He continued telling her the story of the Princess Aisley and the lowly servant, Sam, who was assigned for life to take care of her, protect her and love her with all his heart.
Walking a short distance to some fallen branches, he fashioned a tighter shelter by weaving them together. Staying close he gathered more herbs and berries, boiling them he made some tea and drank a little for himself. A small rabbit he had caught in the snare was cooking over the fire. He had to keep up his strength to take care of Aisley. At sundown he ate. His appetite had left him.
His guilt of being able to eat, but not wanting to took a toll on his mind. Aisley wasn’t capable of eating anything just yet, and Sam felt guilty knowing she needed the nourishment that he could so easily reach.
The raindrops were bigger now and he sat beside Aisley in the shelter. Sam prayed the soothing sound of the rain would help calm and heal her, but he wasn’t for certain she could even hear the steady beats as they fell around them. As quickly as the rain fell, it stopped. He watched the moon take over the sky.
“Would you look at that moon, Princess Aisley? Isn’t it the most amazing thing? It lights up the night, just enough to let the creatures of the earth find their way in the dark. It dances across your hair in the most mystifying wave I have ever witnessed. The stars twinkle their approval of the moonbeams, speaking between each other in some foreign voice about how beautiful you are and how they dim in comparison.” Sam glanced over at Aisley, almost expecting to see her eyes open and sparkling. He was disappointed when it didn’t happen.
He stretched out next to Aisley, reached to touch her face, and his heart ached as his fingertips slid smoothly over her pale skin. His stomach tied in knots as he wondered what he would do if she were to... he couldn’t finish the thought. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come.
Sam took one of the rags and squeezed the cool water over her hot forehead. Wiping the hair from her face when she thrashed around, the pounding in his chest slowed when she stopped. Sam watched the rise and fall of Aisley’s labored breathing until sunrise, when he stepped out of the shelter and gathered more herbs and berries. He removed the poultice to find the redness had faded to pink. Boiling the knife, he then lanced the wound and let it drain. He winced at the thought of having to cauterize it again. Aisley had already lost too much blood. A shiver ran down his spine as he ran the blade through the fire to bring it to red-hot again. He boiled the herbs for the fresh poultice and crushed them with the handle of his knife.
Exhaustion consumed him and he stretched out on the grass bed next to Aisley. He closed his eyes.
****
Sam didn’t sleep very long before he woke. He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. It was past time to check on her wound. Cutting into the same area, he let the poison run freely into a small hole he dug in the ground. He flushed the wound with warm water and applied the poultice. Feeling of her forehead with his cheek, he kissed her gently.
“I love you, Aisley,” he whispered, “we’ll get through this, I know we will. We have too. I can’t live without you. Please wake up.”
All day that day and the next Sam went through the same ritual. The days seemed to run together. It had been three days since he discovered her wound. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? I wished you would wake up and talk to me, Aisley. I’m worried you won’t come back to me. I know I hurt you. I want to make everything right between us. When I returned to camp and found the gaje had taken you, I knew I had to find you. Before I could go looking, you showed back up and then I found out about Rosanna when you did. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from the gaje. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for your parents. You never said anything about being shot. What am I going to do without you?”
Never giving up, Sam would speak softly to Aisley. Every chance he got, he would profess his love for her. He continued to weave the branches tighter to keep the weather from his beloved. Hoping she would give him some kind of indication that she was still amongst the living, he felt alone but not lonely. He would never feel lonely as long as she was near him.
One morning when Sam removed the poultice, the bullet was sitting on top of the skin. Pulling out the knife, he boiled it. He reached for the poultice and had it at his side. Sticking the hot blade to the tender skin, Sam squirmed at the tears that formed in Aisley’s eyes. He continued to lance the area, flush the wound with the warm water and applied another poultice.
Sam felt as if he was beginning to communicate with Aisley through dreams. He felt she could hear him when he would concentrate on sending messages to her mind. More than once, he could have sworn he had heard that angelic laugh of hers. Oh, what a welcome sound it was, but the reality of it being another wishful thought would creep into his mind like a monster in the dark.
****
Aisley didn’t understand what was happening as she tried to fight. She was too weak to stop the searing in her side. Her eyes fluttered open. Sam leaned over her. She saw the glistening on his cheeks and felt the teardrop from his face fall onto her bare skin. Her hand twitched as she tried to grasp Sam. Unashamed tears edged down the deep creases that had formed on his face. His laughter filled the shelter as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, letting his lips linger on her weak fingers and then he rubbed the back of her hand across his wet cheek. He quickly moved closer to her.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked, smoothing the hair stuck to her damp forehead. “I’ve made you some tea to help the pain and broth from a tender rabbit.”
Aisley tried to speak but nothing came out. Her throat was parched. She nodded her head. Sam slipped his hand behind her head. He held the cup to her lips and gave her a tiny sip of tea. Throughout the day, he raised the bowl of broth to her lips, which she drank thirstily. She needed more strength and nourishment to heal.
All the while, he filled her mind with loving stories of a paradise they would live in and be one with the universe. One where only white light was allowed in and all of the negativity was forbidden to enter. His voice was soft and gentle and she believed everything he was saying.
“Sam, have I been dreaming?” She wasn’t sure the stories she’d been hearing were actually spoken words or just dreams. It didn’t matter, there was peace in the world she had been dreaming of. A world of her and Sam.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Sam lowered his head. Aisley tried to sit up but met resistance from his hand on her shoulder. “You must not move Aisley. You were shot.”
“I got shot? When? How?… I remember. The gaje came back and Papa told us to run. I ran back after mama screamed, the gaje were shooting, and the bullet struck me. The gaje were the ones that took me the night before…” Aisley slipped back into a deep sleep. She returned to the nightmare instead of the peaceful world of bliss.
****
Relieved she’d woken up, Sam still knew she wasn’t out of trouble yet. He was so elated with her return to the living he didn’t want to think about anything that could cause her to shut him out again, even though it wasn’t her fault she had in the first place. His stomach growled, but he didn’t feel hungry. He ran his knuckles down her jawline. Her skin was soft and warm but not feverish. She still had a way to go before he could remove her to safety. This frightened him more than anything... not being able to protect her.
Gathering more herbs and berries, Sam prepared them for the cleansing of the wound. When he removed the poultice, the redness, indicating infection, had disappeared. “This will be the last time I’ll have to cut your soft, beautiful skin, Aisley. I hope you don’t feel it.” He took the knife, and with a steady hand, touched the hot blade to her side. She pulled away, and he winced. He replaced the poultice over the wound. The burns from the knife made his stomach sick. As long as she didn’t get another infection he wouldn’t have to lance the wound again. However, the threat was still there if she tried to fight his healing. He
softly told her the stories of the paradise as he continued the task set before him.
Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “I love you, Aisley.” He stretched out beside her and slept for a few hours. As exhaustion and release took his body, his mind was still alert to Aisley and her comfort. Every time she moved, his eyes flew open. Softly, he caressed her arm until he eased her torment and she would relax again. Then slumber would take over his own body once more.
The sun found Sam boiling tea and more broth. Looking over his shoulder when he heard rustling in the makeshift shelter, he saw Aisley watching him.
“Good morning, Sam.” A drop of blood appeared on her parched, cracked lips. Sam took a drip of water and applied it to her lips to ease the stiffness she was surely feeling.
“How do you feel today?” He smiled, a genuine smile for the first time since all of this began. He knew she needed some form of positive emotion to encourage her to want to feel better. Then he tenderly kissed and swiped the hair from her forehead.
“I’ll be better if you tell me you’re not going to stick me with that hot knife again.” Aisley’s smile was strained.
“No, I have already checked it. The poison has left. I need to apply a fresh poultice on it, though. We will stay here a few more days and then if you’re strong enough we will try to make it closer to the new camp.” Sam was prepared to fight anything barehanded to keep Aisley safe.