Dream Weaver

by Shirley Martin

  "Mind? No, of course not."

  Wow! This changed everything. She wanted to sing, dance, shout her happiness to the world. All this time she'd assumed Christian wanted Leah. But wait, his words still didn't mean he cared for her.

  Christian stepped closer, a look of tenderness in his eyes. "You haven't answered my question."

  "No," she murmured, "he hasn't visited me, not since the time when you came to visit, too."

  "Good." Christian brushed a stray curl from her forehead. His fingers traced the lines of her cheekbone, his touch light and caressing. "I love your hair down like this, instead of hidden under that mobcap you wear around the house. Unfortunate for me that you can't wear it like this all the time." He lifted the long tresses, letting them slide through his fingers like silken threads, then released his hand, her hair rippling down her back. "I've wanted to do that for the longest time," he said, "even when you first appeared at my house. And I've wanted to hold you in my arms. Gwen..."

  "Christian..." Before she knew how it had happened, she found herself in his embrace. He whispered her name again and again as he feathered kisses from her forehead, down her cheek, and on to the hollow of her throat, his breath warm on her skin, like a kitten's fur. She returned kiss for kiss and ran her hand across his back, feeling every ridge and contour.

  He changed his position to hold her ever tighter, his hands roaming down her back, pressing her hips against him. She was floating, floating, floating somewhere in the stratosphere, and she never wanted to come back down to earth.

  Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, Christian drew back slightly to caress her breast, his fingers warm through the thin material of her cotton dress. His hand made a circling motion, moving ever closer to her nipple. When he smoothed his finger across the hard peak, she cried out in shameless ecstasy.

  "Christian, please!"

  He drew away to gaze down at her, warm desire in his eyes. "Shall I stop?"

  "No, oh, no!"

  He cradled her head against his shoulder, whispering in her ear, "I think it best that I stop or heaven only knows where this will end. I'm only a man, one who wants you very much. If I had my way--"

  Voices reached them from the other side of the trees. Christian raised his head, releasing a deep sigh. He smiled at her tenderly, a look she'd remember for the rest of her life. "'Tis just as well we're not alone anymore."

  Chapter Eleven

  Awakened by the chirping of robins, Gwen shaded her eyes against the bright sunlight that slanted across her bed and flooded the room. Morning already? She moaned and turned over, wishing she could go back to sleep, but she'd already overslept after another restless night of broken dreams about Christian. The day of Leah's wedding a week ago came back to haunt her, Christian's kisses and caresses fresh in her mind, as if he were holding her now. A rush of warmth made her catch her breath as wild images sent her hopes skyrocketing.

  She closed her eyes and tried to think of other things, an exercise in futility. When would she ever realize she meant nothing to him? What normal, red-blooded American male stuck out in the middle of nowhere wouldn't be lonely for a woman? She just happened to be convenient.

  But he's my soulmate, she silently declared.. They were destined to be together, so that she could save his life. What could she say or do to make him understand?

  She pushed her bedspread aside and slid out of bed. Enough daydreaming; she had a class today, and the children would arrive soon.

  Despite her best intentions, her mind swung back to Christian. What was he doing now?

  * * *

  Christian studied the lady who sat across the table in his common room. He guessed she was in her late twenties, and judging from her speech and dress, she appeared to be a woman of means. He smiled to put her at ease, his hands resting on the table, a hundred questions churning through his brain. But he'd let her speak first, hoping she'd explain her ailment betimes.

  "I've come all the way from Bedford, Dr. Norgard. 'Twas a most uncomfortable journey on my horse, aye, and painful, too, in my condition. Fortunately, Mr. Chamberlain gave me good directions on his last visit to Bedford, else I should never have found your place."

  "Thank God for Daniel Chamberlain," Christian said. "If anyone knows western Pennsylvania, it is he."

  She nodded. "'Tis said you're a skilled doctor, so I pray my troubles have been worth it." Her hand shook as she raised it to her forehead, tucking a wisp of hair under her hat.

  "And no one accompanied you on your trip, Mistress Baker?" he asked in surprise.

  She hesitated. "My husband left for Philadelphia a few weeks ago and hasn't returned yet." She sighed. "My maid is so easily frightened, so I decided to go by myself," she said with a rueful smile. "My husband will be furious, both with the maid and me, but I could no longer bear my infirmity." Pressing her hand to her swollen abdomen, she spoke in an anguished voice. "But pray tell me, why should my condition cause pain? I have three other children, and how well I know that giving birth is not without discomfort. But the condition itself shouldn't cause such pain. Why is that, doctor?" Tears brimmed her eyes and her voice rose.. "Dr. Norgard, what's amiss?"

  "I hope to ascertain that shortly," Christian answered in a low voice, aiming to calm the lady. "First, I must do a physical examination. Then we'll see what to do."

  "A physical examination?" She clenched her hands on the table, her knuckles white. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean I'll have to examine you to see whether or not you're with child. If not--"

  "Whether or not I'm with child? What else could it be?"

  "That, madam, is what I hope to ascertain." Christian spoke in measured tones, well aware he must proceed cautiously, must do everything to put her at ease. "If you agree to an examination-- and madam, I assure you 'tis absolutely necessary--let us do it now. Afterwards, we'll see."

  Christian observed her flushed face, her clenched hands, wishing he could alleviate her distress. He twisted his fingers in his lap, concealing his own anxiety. What if he had to operate?

  "Pray let us proceed. My bed is the best place for it--more room, you see, and, I believe, more comfortable for you. And madam, I understand your delicacy in this matter. Indeed, such modesty does you credit. But an examination is absolutely necessary."

  Her glance darted around the room. "Very well," she whispered.

  He gestured toward her head. "Your hat, madam..."

  "Oh, yes, of course." With shaking hands, she reached behind her to unpin the hat, then set it on the table.

  In his loft, the examination confirmed his worst fears. Christian straightened up from the bed. "Mistress Baker, as I suspected, you aren't pregnant. But you do have a diseased ovary." How he wished he could spare her this agony.

  "A what, doctor?" Bracing her elbow against the bed, she rose to a sitting position, pushing her dress down. Worry lines creased her face, and her hand trembled as she shoved a lock of hair back from her forehead. Perspiration glistened on her forehead.

  "A malignant growth has attached itself to an ovary--one of the reproductive organs, necessary for childbirth. Now, listen carefully whilst I tell you what I must do. I must operate, madam--"

  She drew a quick breath. "No!"

  "--and I shall tell you quite frankly, an ovarian cyst is quite serious, besides which this operation entails some risk." He winced inwardly at her shocked expression, yet he knew he should give her all the facts. "If I don't perform this surgery, I fear your condition will prove fatal. 'Tis a chance we have to take, Mistress Baker. You simply cannot continue as you are now. The ovary must be removed."

  "I see." She gripped the edge of the bed, her face as white as the sheet. "This surgery...'twill be painful, will it not?"

  "I have a decoction that will put you to sleep." He thought for a moment. “Immediately after the operation, I'll fetch another woman to stay with you, tend to your needs. You'll need a period of recuperation, say, at least a month. I'll send a message to you
r home, so don't be concerned about that. If you awake to find me gone, you mustn't worry." He cupped his chin in his hands. "When do you expect your husband back from Philadelphia?"

  "Within a week or so, I should think."

  "Very well. I shall let him know when you have recovered sufficiently, and mayhap he can come for you." He looked around the room. "The table--" He forced a smile. "'Twould be the best place for the operation...."

  Much later, the surgery successfully completed, Christian released a long sigh. He moved away from the table and sank onto a chair, raising a shaky hand to remove a sweat-soaked linen cloth from his forehead. His glance covered the room. Sighing, he saw blood everywhere, on his apron, the sheet, the floor. He couldn't take the time to clean the room now. His patient came first.

  Even though the operation had gone well, Christian knew his troubles had only begun. What if she didn't recover? Had he given her too much anesthetic? He rose to his feet to take her pulse, finding it greatly reduced. That, too, was a normal reaction to an operation. Her breathing appeared normal, another positive sign. He stood to slip his apron off and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths as he recalled all the things he must do.

  Dear God, he was tired. Feeling as if he'd aged twenty years, he wanted only to lie down and sleep for hours. But no, he'd have to see about someone to stay here, he thought as he hurried outside to saddle his horse. His patient would need constant care, and Gwen came to mind. He hoped she'd be willing to spend time with the woman, if only for a day or two.

  * * *

  Afternoon sunlight brightened the schoolroom, the school day almost over. Gwen dabbed a handkerchief across her forehead while she sat on a mat and faced the children.

  "Would you like to hear about Cinderella?" she asked after the children had finished with their hornbooks.

  Everyone spoke at once. "Cinderella? Who's she?"

  "Well, just listen and you'll find out...."

  "When Cinderella ran from the palace," she said toward the end of the story, "she lost her glass slipper. But when the prince found the slipper, he knew--"

  Someone knocked at the door. With a little jump, Gwen pushed herself from the floor, straightening her skirt as she headed in that direction....

  "Christian, what a surprise!" Blinking her eyes in the bright sunshine, she strove to keep her voice steady. Wild fantasies teased her mind, but when she saw his somber expression, a trace of worry chased her pleasure away. Had something happened to Rebecca or Daniel? Stepping back, she opened the door wider. "Come on in."

  Tricorne in hand, Christian spoke in a low voice as he stepped inside the schoolroom. "Gwen, I hate to interrupt your class, but something important has arisen, and I fear I must ask a favor of you."

  "Okay, shoot."

  "What?"

  "I mean, tell me what you want me to do." Damn it, another verbal faux pas.

  In terse sentences, Christian explained about his patient. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, but can you stay with her until she wakes up from the surgery? Just for today," he quickly added. "She'll need assistance, someone to comfort her. 'Twill take a month or so for her recovery, so I'll have to make further arrangements."

  "Sure, I'll be happy to stay with her. I'd better discuss this with Rebecca, see if she has any other suggestions. Possibly she can spare Molly for a month." She turned to address the children, surprised they'd remained quiet. No doubt they sensed the importance of a doctor's visit to the schoolteacher. "Children, class is dismissed early today." Their groans of disappointment made her feel she was making progress. "I'll finish the story of Cinderella the day after tomorrow. Leave your hornbooks and primers here, like you always do. Remember, the younger ones must wait outside the big house for your older brothers or sisters to come for you. I don't want you going home alone."

  While the children traipsed from the room, she turned back to Christian. "Let me talk to Rebecca and get a few of my things together. Then we can be on our way."

  Hours later, on a chair close to the bed, Gwen dabbed a wet cloth across the woman's shiny forehead.

  After Christian had checked on his patient, he'd ridden to the Chamberlains to stay the night--a lot of riding in one day. Obviously, he stayed at the Chamberlains for the sake of her reputation, but she didn't give a damn what anyone thought.

  "'Tis best for your sake," Christian had said. "I don't want anyone to speak ill of you."

  Gwen wrenched her mind back to the present. "Don't try to raise yourself, Mistress Baker. Might hurt you. Chr--Dr. Norgard asked me to stay with you, but he'll return to check on you tomorrow. He sent a message to your house, he wanted me to be sure to tell you. Besides that, he came here just a while ago to see how you were doing, but you were sound asleep."

  "Ruth," the woman whispered. "You may call me Ruth. I--oohh!" She moaned with pain and gripped the sheet, writhing on the bed.

  "Just wait, I have a sedative for you." Quickly, Gwen reached for a bottle of laudanum from the table to measure the required amount into a cup as Christian had instructed her, holding the bottle close to the oil lamp so she could see better. The woman's moans and thrashing on the sheet rattled her, making her spill a few drops onto the table, but she finally had the necessary amount.

  "Please hurry!" Ruth cried. "Oh, my God, I can't bear the pain!"

  "I've got it now." Gwen slipped her arm behind Ruth to help her sit up. After the patient swallowed the sedative, Gwen lowered her back onto the mattress. Ruth fell asleep within seconds.

  Gwen leaned back in the chair, heaving a deep sigh, hoping the poor woman didn't have to go through that again. Semi-darkness and silence enclosed the small loft, with only a dim light from the lamp on the bedside table casting wavy shadows on the wall. Must be sometime in the early hours of the morning, Gwen guessed, and no breeze to bring relief from the stifling heat.

  As always, she thought of Christian, hoping she'd see him again tomorrow.

  * * *

  Gwen looked up from the table as Christian opened the door to his house. A shaft of sunlight the room, then he closed the door behind him, dimming the house again.

  He gave her a grateful smile. "Can't tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing for me." He held up a hand as he headed for the loft. "I'll return shortly. Have to check on my patient."

  Within a few minutes, he hustled down the steps to the common room, where Gwen sat reading his copy of Fielding's Tom Jones...or trying to read. How could she concentrate with Christian so close?

  Lines of exhaustion etched Christian's face as he pulled out a chair to sit down, stretching his long legs out. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. "First, I want to say how much I appreciate your help, especially cleaning up the blood. I was going to do that myself, but more urgent matters demanded my time, as you can well imagine." He shifted position in his chair. "Also, talked to Rebecca earlier today. She's enlisted the aid of a young girl who lives a few miles from the Chamberlains, so Molly can come here."

  Gwen set her book on the table, never telling him how cleaning up the blood nearly made her sick. "If Molly stays with Ruth Baker, are you going to stay here, too?"

  He drew back. "Are you daft? No, I'll stay at the Chamberlains."

  Poor man, she thought, he's under such a strain. She'd never heard him speak like that before. "How long will you stay there?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  "As long as Mistress Baker needs to recover, probably a month."

  Christian at the Chamberlains' for a whole month? Her thoughts spun out of control.

  * * *

  "How does your patient fare?" Daniel asked Christian two days later during the evening meal.

  "Progressing quite well, I should say." Christian dipped his fork into the potato pudding. "I see no difficulties in her recuperation."

  While Rebecca and Daniel discussed private business, Gwen caught Christian's gaze on her, those bedroom eyes she swore could see right through her. She had to put
up with this for a whole month, had to be always on guard, afraid she'd do or say something to give herself away. Could she last that long, with him in the same house, while she tried to act as if he hadn't turned her world upside down?

  She bit into a flaky biscuit, staring down at her plate, counting the hours until she could go to bed...and dream about Christian.

  Luckily for her peace of mind, Christian spent much of the time away while he checked on the other settlers and the lady from Bedford. Gwen often wondered if he purposely kept his distance, or if his days were usually so busy. She tried to pretend it didn't matter to her either way, because she had better things to do than sit around and pine for him all day. Her classes and other diversions occupied her time, and she even had an occasional visitor....

  Gwen opened the door onto a warm, sunny day, the air fresh and clean with the heady aroma of late summer flowers from the garden. "Lieutenant Shelbourne, how nice to see you."

  Richard made a slight bow and stepped inside, sweeping off his tricorne.

  She led him to the Windsor chair by the window where he set his hat on the table. Outside, robins chirped in the trees and flew from branch to branch, their antics visible from the open front door.

  Closing the door, Gwen shifted her gaze to the officer. "How about cherry punch, lieutenant?"

  "Aye, punch, I would appreciate that, madam. Sounds like a capital idea after a hot ride through the woods."

  "I don't like being so far away from everything, either," Gwen said after she poured his drink and handed him the glass. "Things can get boring in the boon--er, out in the country."

  Richard sipped his drink. "Miss Emrys, pray forgive me if I appear too inquisitive. But I've oftimes noticed that your speech is indeed strange, far different from anything I've ever heard."

  Gwen framed her thoughts. "You see, I come from a strange place you've never heard of, and this is how everyone there talks. Can I get you any other refreshment, lieutenant--gingerbread cakes or corn bread?"