by Jillian Hart
"She's a feisty one, Jonah. What do you plan to do about it?"
"Hope she never gets mad at me," he teased, but at the lines etched around Tessa's mouth and the way she did not tease back, he tensed. "How's Andy?"
"I'm not certain. He complains of a bad headache, but it doesn't seem to be responding to my herbs."
" 'Tis because your herbs are likely to kill a healthy man," Father spoke up. "Is my son ill?"
"I don't know. He has no fever, no other complaints." Tessa's voice softened. "I know of some roots that when crushed and added with the bark made a powerful pain killer. Andy said he often gets headache, just not this bad."
"I will help you." Jonah rose, leaving his father with a look of warning. "Don't even think about dumping out that tea."
"I could accidentally spill it." The old man looked defiant. "You'll never know."
"A tea that putrid will leave a stain anywhere you pour it."
"And an uncommonly bad smell." Father's humor came thin, worry wrinkling his face, draining the life from his eyes. "See to Andy. I hope he has not contracted this same illness."
" Tis a headache, nothing more." Though Jonah did not feel assured as he went to join Tessa in the kitchen.
She stood at the counter, pestle in hand. A sound variety of earthy smells, of roots and barks and dried leaves, scented the air around her. "Your father thinks I'm torturing him, but he needs to take his medicine for at least one more week. We cannot risk a return of the fever. His lungs are not strong enough to survive another bout of that sickness."
"I know." Jonah laid his hand on her shoulder because he liked touching her. "You have my support. I trust you with my family. With my life."
"Oh, Jonah." She turned and folded herself against his chest and held him so hard. He could feel how much she cared for him. Thomas was right-aye, he'd made a terrible mistake. He had not misled her. He just had never imagined that a practical spinster with more sense than any woman he'd ever met would harbor a heart so tender.
And he would not hurt her. He would never let her know how cold his heart, how desolate. He kissed her brow, those silken curls tickling his chin, and cradled her close. Rain started to tap at the windows, driven by a somber wind.
Chapter Thirteen
A knock on the front door drew them apart. She hated moving away from him, but she'd given Anya the afternoon off. "I had better answer that before Samuel decides he feels well enough to do it."
"Aye. Let me." He pressed a quick kiss to her brow and then marched away.
Tessa searched through her basket and laid out the crocks on the counter, one by one. She heard the door open and a woman's voice talking fast and high. It sounded like Prudence Bowman.
"Tessa." Jonah pushed through the door, his face tight. "Someone is here to see you. She says her daughter has fallen ill."
A foreboding drew tight in the pit of her stomach. "Send her in-"
"Tessa!" A pale faced woman, dressed in a fine gown and cloak, pushed past Jonah in the threshold and tumbled into the kitchen, windblown and rain specked. "Thankful woke up yesterday saying she didn't feel well, and now she has a fever. She is coughing and fretful."
"What have you been treating her with?" Tessa grabbed up the water pail from the back door and pulled a chair out from the table, motioning Mistress Bowman to sit.
"Honey and tea. My mother swears by it, but it has been of no help." Worry wobbled in her voice as she dropped into the offered chair. "I don't know what else to try."
"I will come take a look as soon as I'm done here." Tessa hefted the heavy pail and poured. Water sluiced into a small kettle. " 'Twill take only a few minutes."
"I fear Thankful's fever is far too advanced. I should have asked for your help earlier, but I was sure it was just from the change in weather and all this dampness."
"Jonah, will you see after Andy?"
While concern narrowed his eyes, he nodded gently. "Thomas has not dragged me out into the fields yet, so I have the time. You want me to give Andy tea?"
"Just plain tea and honey, and he is to drink it all up after he takes this powder. Just this much." She grabbed a spoon from the holder and measured out a quarter teaspoon. "He's to put it right on his tongue. It will taste nasty, but it should ease his pain. If I'm not back by suppertime, make sure he has another cup of tea but no more powder."
"I will." Jonah's hand curled around the kettle handle. "Have Thomas saddle Father's bay mare for you. And Tessa? Try to be home before dark."
A gentle light of caring shone in his eyes, and it moved her, touched her as nothing ever had. He would miss her when she was gone. Her heart filled to brimming. 'Twas a good thing to be loved.
* * *
The sun had set by the time she rode into the stable. The mare was as soaked to the skin as she was. 'Twas a gentle animal, with big friendly eyes and a gentle nature. Friendly, as if the poor animal didn't have anyone to ride her much. Tessa uncinched the saddle and vowed to take the animal out for a run one day soon.
"There you are." Thomas splashed into the stable, wearing a dripping jacket and cap, carrying a small lantern, a tiny beacon against the gathering darkness. "Jonah nearly sent me five different times to see to your safety. He feared the horse had thrown you and left you hurt in the middle of the road."
"I hope you told Jonah I know how to care for myself." Although it warmed her to know her husband worried over her welfare. "Where is he?"
"Putting Father to bed. I saw you ride up." He hooked the lantern on a nail. "Here, let me rub down the mare."
"I was planning on taking her back out again." Tessa gave the horse's neck a gentle pat. "Thankful Bowman complained of a headache yesterday and today she is very ill."
"Andy has a headache." Thomas' jaw tensed. He was a burly man, broader than Jonah through the chest, but not as tall. His somber nature made him seem just as powerful as Jonah, though in a different way. " 'Tis not a good sign."
"Nay. I wanted to take some medicines to Mistress Briers. She complained of a headache today too, and I think 'twould be best to medicate this fever before it hits and settles into the lungs."
"The storm is too miserable. I will take the medicines. All you need to do is write the instructions for the seamstress, and I will see that she gets both."
"You would do that?"
"Aye. Jonah would have my head if I let you back out in that storm. Besides, we fear Andy needs your care now."
Thomas spoke sense, and 'twas good to be needed. And 'twas good to be treated like this, with respect and caring. She imagined this was how good families behaved toward one another, and how nice it was. She knew Thomas, as Jonah's brother, didn't need to come out into the rain to help her or run her errand. But he had.
"Thank you." The words caught in her throat because they were so hard to say.
"For what?" He looked up from grabbing a linen towel from a dark shelf. "For saving you from getting more soaked than you already are?"
"Nay. For accepting me into your family, for treating me so well. 'Tis more than my own family has done." She watched the surprise on his face, and mayhap a bit of confusion. Embarrassed, she ran out into the drumming rain and let the cold wetness sluice away the heat from her face.
"Tessa?" Thomas gazed out at her, framed by the dark threshold, backlit by the single lantern's gentle flame. "I am glad you're happy here with us. We appreciate you more than you know."
Aye, 'twas good to belong. To truly belong. She smiled, not trusting her voice, and hurried to the house. Warmth and the sweet scent of steeping tea met her as she rushed inside. Water dripped from her cloak's hem.
"Mistress." Anya spun from the hearth. "We've all been worried. The storm is so severe."
"No need to worry, for I'm well. Has Andy shown any signs of fever?"
"Nay, but he has been coughing." The girl stuffed her hands behind a pretty but plain apron. "Colonel Hunter said that since I was looking around in the attic as you told me to do, I should take whatev
er I might need. Like this apron."
Tessa knew Anya had come with only the clothes on her back. "Did Samuel climb the attic ladder by himself?"
"Aye. He tried to swear me to secrecy, but I told him I would not lie to my mistress." A small nervous smile flickered across her pale face. "If this is too much, I can put it back."
"Nay, an apron is sensible. And we must clothe you. Think of how indecent it would be if we did not." On a smile, Tessa shrugged out of her cloak and hung it on a wall peg to drip dry. "Do you like your room?"
" 'Tis very comfortable. With a real bed. The colonel said I might borrow a book to read at night from the library after my work was done. If I am careful with it. Is that all right?"
"Of course. I would let you go now, but I need help with an onion poultice for Andy."
"Let me go down cellar and fetch some onions. How many will you need?"
"Four will do." Tessa reached up into the cupboard and found a small empty crock. The girl had already slipped into the pantry. The cellar door squealed a protest in the small room.
Tessa measured out a good amount of crushed yarrow leaves, sweetgrass, dried bearberries, cottonwood bark, and mint. She set Anya to peeling, then slicing the onions. Thomas knocked at the back door, and she handed him a small packet with instructions, wrapped in leather to protect it from the rain. She thanked him again, and he was gone, blending into the shadows of the thunderous night.
She chose cottonwood bark to steep with Andy's tea and then headed upstairs. The house seemed quiet with the parlor dark and the colonel asleep.
At the head of the stairs, a thin light drew her to Andy's chamber. The door was ajar. She could see a bed centering the room where a down comforter was drawn up to Andy's chin. A fire crackled in the small fireplace, the light glancing over Jonah to illuminate the sleeping man propped up by pillows.
"How is Mistress Thankful?"
"Not well. Her malady seems similar to your father's. Is Andy worse?"
"Aye, he started coughing after supper. Not hard, and he doesn't have the rattle in his chest Father had." Lines furrowed across Jonah's brow. How tired he looked, how worried. He'd pulled his dark hair back into a leather tie at his nape. If he were not in a sick room, he could be mistaken for a pirate, or mayhap a spy for the French. His hand caught hers and fire skidded across her skin. Desire built in her blood. "I didn't send for you because I knew Mistress Thankful was more ill."
"Anya is slicing onions for a poultice. It will help keep his lungs clear." Tessa watched Jonah rise and tower his full height over her. She stepped into the shelter of his arms, against the wondrous comfort of his chest. She could hold him forever just like this with their hearts beating together.
"Andy will be ecstatic. He sleeps now, but when he was awake he complained mightily of your awful tasting headache powder." His hand on her back caressed slow circles at her spine. "I scared him into taking it by saying I would fetch you from the Bowmans."
She tilted her face upward, and his smile became a kiss, fiery and possessive.
"I missed you this evening." His fingers brushed over her hips. How dark his eyes were. Was he thinking of the last time they'd made love? How she straddled him, brushed by only candlelight and his hands, and took his hard shaft inside her?
"Tell me how ill Andy is." How rough his voice sounded, low and intimate. Aye, he was thinking of it, too. "Then we'll see what comes next between us."
He stepped away, and the ache for him low in her belly grew heavier. She craved him, like air and water and sleep. She wanted to make love to this man who'd given her not just a home and a place to belong, but his love. 'Twas all she had wished for, prayed for, dreamed of.
Tessa drew the chair up to the bed and set the burning taper on the nearby stand. Light washed Andy's face, slack and younger looking in sleep. A slight blush pinkened his cheeks. The color was high, near his eyes, and a faint trace of it painted his brow.
"He doesn't feel overly warm, but the fever has begun."
So, there would be no pleasure this night. She would do all she could to help Andy fight the fever, which like Thankful Bowman, struck more swiftly than with the colonel. 'Twas why she feared it would be all the more dangerous. "I'll need another candle, Jonah. And wood for the fire."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. His beautiful shoulders tensed. "As you wish, my lady." He kissed her brow, tenderly this time, so infinitely tender.
'Twas going to be a long night.
He heard the outside door close down below, for the kitchen was beneath Andy's room. The fire burned low, in need of more wood, its orange-red glow lashing the fine cut of Tessa's back and the slender shape of her shoulders. The back of her neck, bent over her work, looked vulnerable. Dark curls that had escaped her braid gathered there, ebony silk against creamy satin.
"What do you need from the kitchen?"
"I could use more clean dish towels."
"I'll be right back." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. A warm feeling beat in his chest as he stepped away. She returned to her work, checking the poultice smeared on Andy's chest.
The hallway was cool, the parlor damp and cold. Spring came stubbornly this year, holding back its warmth. "Thomas, is that you?"
"Aye. I've brought in more wood."
Jonah studied his brother, face lined and brow furrowed, and recognized that dark brooding look. "I thought you had gone to bed."
"Andy is my brother, too." Thomas knelt before the wood box, instead of nosily dumping his armload, and quietly filled the copper tub stick by stick.
"You looked troubled. Is it Andy? The fever is a serious one." Jonah bent to help.
"Aye, Andy's illness does worry me, but something else also troubles me." He set the last chunk of maple into the box, then dusted the slivers of wood, bark, and moss from his gloves and jacket. "Do you know what Tessa did today?"
"She did many things." Jonah turned to sort through the shelves beneath the work counter.
"She thanked me."
"Thanked you?" He spied the towels and grabbed a couple. "Pray, tell me 'tisn't so! It must have tortured you. What did you do to deserve such treatment?"
"Offered to take medicine to Mistress Briers for her, because of the storm." Thomas walked to the window just as lightning split the sky, flashing behind the curtain. Thunder rolled overhead, angry and ear splitting. "But that wasn't all she thanked me for. She's grateful for how well we treat her. For how I treat her."
"So, you feel guilty, is that it? Do you feel bad for wagering Andy five pounds over my choice in a wife?"
"Do not tease, brother. I'm not proud of myself. I only meant to jest. Why, Tessa is an honest woman, but there isn't one man in all of Connecticut Colony who could see the Tessa Bradford you married. I have come to like her, and I respect her for what she does."
"As do I."
"She brought our father back to us, when the surgeon had no hope. And now Andy is ill, and she is up there right now at his side, no matter that 'tis midnight and she's had little sleep to call her own."
"You're telling me what I already know."
Lightning flashed, thunder rattled the windowpanes. Thomas hefted the curtain away from the glass and stared out at the black sheets of rain. "She thinks we treat her well, and my conscience bothers me. How it bothers me. But what troubles me more is that my brother, the great heroic Major Hunter, reported to save innocent colonists from marauding Indians, is using this good-hearted woman."
"I am not using her." Defensive rage flared in his chest, more striking than the lightning searing the night.
"Then what do you call it? You should have hired a nurse, Jonah. Not married that poor woman. She thinks you love her," Thomas scolded over the raging thunder.
"I do happen to care about her." Jonah tossed down the towels to clench his hands. "She's my wife, and none of your concern."
"What goes on in front of my nose is my concern." Thomas spun from the window, and a single bayberry candle illuminated the fight
in his eyes. "She has done naught but care for every member in this family since she arrived here. Aye, and she even cares for a penniless servant. She believes you love her, Jonah, and new dresses and decent treatment do not excuse how you lie to her and deceive her. She thinks she has your heart."
"Aye, but how can I say such a thing to her?" Troubled, Jonah faced the window, studying the night-black windowpanes and his own reflection within. "It would hurt her terribly, and that is why she can't know. I may have chosen to marry her because she could take care of Father, but that's not why I want her to stay. I-"
Something clattered to the floor behind him. A silence settled on the room. Not even the thunder above dared to intrude. Jonah felt her presence like a touch to his back, like a mark on his conscience.
"Look how clumsy I am." She knelt to the floor, retrieving the fallen bowl. She turned away so that the nighttime shadows cloaked her face. Her hands worked quickly. "Jonah, you took so long for the towels. Tis time to take the paste off Andy's chest."
Her hands shook as she set the bowl on the counter.
Damn his stupid tongue. "Tessa." He stepped forward.
She sidestepped. "I need only a bit of wash water." She poured water from the lukewarm kettle into her shallow bowl. Her voice sounded thick with unshed tears. "Whilst there is still no fever, 'tis best to be cautious."
"Tessa, you misunderstand. I did not mean those words the way they sounded." He had only wanted to keep her from hurting, to protect her caring heart.
Tessa was a person, his wife, with feelings deep and true, and he had been wrong to think an unwanted spinster who worked for a roof over her head would be merely glad to live in a big house and have a life of ease. She had dreams and needs and a heart large enough to spend her days and nights caring for those in the village who were ill or dying. Many accepted her help only to tease her or judge her when it suited, and all without payment, without reward.
She was a woman who had offered to care for his dying father out of gratitude, out of a kindness Father had shown to her mother many years ago.