Flight for Life

by Stephy Smith

  “I’ll stay in the room across the hall,” Doc told Joseph, working with intense effort to relieve his wounded patient.

  “Thanks, Doc.” Joseph leaned down, smoothed Zaidee’s hair from her forehead, kissed her, and left the room.

  Joseph paced near the front door waiting on his father and Stephen. The three men’s baggage was loaded on the buckboard. Leroy waited patiently until they boarded, then he climbed up and instructed the team down the road to the stage depot.

  Glancing back at the mansion, Joseph kept his gaze on the open window where Doc still worked on Zaidee. He could feel love leave his body and fly to the window to the amazing lady who lay on the bed. Hang on until I get back, my love, he mused.

  Joseph now understood the reluctance of his father and brother when they left their wives and children to make business trips. He thought back to his aggravation with them for making him wait impatiently, while he stood excited to start a journey. Stephen and his father would linger until the last minute before leaving.

  How could love change one’s whole life in the blink of an eye without any warning? The best part of love was, it felt good. The worst was, he wished Zaidee was awake and knew of his love for her and his desire to hold her in his arms. His need to talk to her when he returned intensified—to prove the genuine feelings she drew out of him from the first time he had laid eyes on her.

  Powerful emptiness, loneliness, and hatred for the person responsible for this insane mess settled in Joseph. Extreme anger built a ten-foot wall. His heart turned dull, lifeless, and murderous.

  ****

  Stephen took the changes in Joseph to heart. Stephen couldn’t fault Joseph for his feelings. Even if Joseph was taking his anger out on everyone, never seeing him this way before worried Stephen.

  “I’m glad you came along, Pa. I don’t know what I would do if I were alone and Joseph went mad on me. I don’t think I could stop him. He’s eaten up bad.” Stephen leaned against the rail and stared into the water.

  “You know, son,” Mr. Solomon set his hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “We all have to pick our battles. Joseph picked a doozy.”

  The riverboat floated peacefully down the Mississippi. They ate their meals in their cabin. Joseph hardly ever left the tiny confines of his berth. Stephen nodded to his pa to meet him out on deck for fresh air and discuss the latest changes in Joseph.

  “Pa it’s not Joseph’s style to stay pent-up like this.”

  Stephen hoped they would reach North Carolina before Joseph snapped. Rapid changes in Joseph convinced Stephen to believe it was only a matter of time.

  He didn’t like the thought of leaving Clara and the kids behind. But he couldn’t let his brother make the trip alone. If Joseph got in a tangle, he needed to be there to watch his back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Doc peered at the weary faces of his amateur nurses each time he checked on Zaidee. She grew weaker and was still in the coma with daily fevers. Clara, Lola, and Mrs. Solomon continued their vigil to keep Zaidee alive. Day after day, night after night passed into a calculated routine and formed a sacred vigil for the crew. Doc’s respect and compassion for these selfless ladies tugged at his heart.

  “Please wake up, Flora,” Clara pleaded. “Joseph will return soon, I promise. You need to be well when he comes home. He loves you so much.” Her tears fell upon the clean linens.

  “Ladies, let’s step in the hall for a minute.” Doc tried to sound hopeful for the three by Flora’s side.

  They followed him through the door and he gently closed it behind them.

  “We’ve done all we can do. We need to take turns staying with her. We’re killing ourselves,” the doctor admitted with a bowed head.

  “We cannot give up on her!” Mrs. Solomon puffed her chest. Her soft voice turned harsh at the doctor’s suggestion.

  “I didn’t say give up on her. I’m merely suggesting we take care of ourselves. She needs us strong and cheerful. Here we are, walking around in there as if we’re at a funeral. We need to show her we’re among the living, so she’ll know she’s still alive.” The doctor’s eyes traveled over their faces.

  “How do you suggest we do that, Doc? It’s hard to be cheerful when I don’t feel cheer.” Clara clenched her fists and placed them on her sides.

  “I understand. We’re tired. Our feelin’s is teeterin’ on edge. We locked ourselves in that room with her and refuse to come out,” Lola admitted. “I think Doc’s right.”

  “When we go in, we need to encourage her to live, describe the gardens she dearly loves, the children who worship her. Tell her of things that mean something to her. We need to give her hope,” Doc said.

  “I’ll take first watch,” Mrs. Solomon said. “Clara, you need to rest, spend time with your children. Lola, you need to take care of Isaac, he needs to know you’re well. Doc, you need more rest than we do. You’re the one who needs a clear mind when you check in on her. I’ll send for you if I need you, or if there’s a change.” With that said, Mrs. Solomon ushered the rest down the hall and entered Zaidee’s room before anyone could protest.

  Clara, Lola, and Doc stood at the end of the hallway. “I’ll take second watch,” Lola said and headed down the stairs.

  “I’ve got third,” Clara said.

  Doc watched them leave and then opened the door across the hall, ready to collapse with exhaustion.

  ****

  Mrs. Solomon pulled out her yarn. As she crocheted, she told Zaidee stories of her children when they were small. She laughed at some of the antics they’d tried to pull. Tears slowly filled her eyes. She didn’t know if she cried from missing them or the heartaches her children would soon face as their own children grew.

  “I know so little about you. Oh sure, I’ve read all the papers. Whatever is in your heart is what matters most. My son Joseph don’t take to most the way he has taken to you. There’s something inside you that has reeled that boy of mine in and won his heart. His love for you will never die, and you can’t give up on yourself. If you do, young lady, you will miss out on a life of pure bliss. Joseph will make things right. Just wait and see.”

  She let her hands fall to her lap, still clutching the crochet needle and yarn. She leaned her head against the rocking chair and continued her stories of Joseph’s childhood.

  ****

  Lola appeared rested when she returned to relieve Mrs. Solomon, having brought fresh-cut roses and flowers from the garden. Vases sat around the room filled with the fragrant flowers. Lola worked the bouquets into beautiful arrangements. She took a deep breath. The delightful aroma drifted across the air. Opening the curtains wide to let some evening sun filter in, Lola raised the window for fresh air to mingle with the sweet scent.

  Glancing back at the bed, Lola described the beautiful gardens below. She told Zaidee about the children playing under shade trees, and about each movement and game they played. Lola described it all as she laughed at the silliness below.

  The darkness threatened outside, and Lola described a romantic sunset, pointing out the different sounds of singing birds. She reached to pull the mosquito net hanging from the canopy of the bed, and left the window open so Zaidee could hear different sounds of the night. Peaceful noises of the plantation filtered in the open window.

  ****

  Rejuvenated and full of hope, Clara entered the room. “I hate to admit I was wrong this morning. I really did need time to rest and spend with the children.” She smiled at Lola, who closed the window and readily agreed.

  Clara sewed at a dress she was making for Emma. She began telling Zaidee things her children had done throughout the day and how the children wanted to visit. Her report to Zaidee included updates on the plantation , the fields, and news from the Solomon. Clara fought to keep the hurt out of her voice and paused several times throughout the night.

  ****

  Mrs. Solomon came for her shift. She pulled the curtains open and raised the window. Taking out her crocheting, she sat in the rocker.
Lola entered the room to wait for Doc’s arrival with Clara and Mrs. Solomon. They kept their conversations light.

  “Good morning, ladies. I don’t know many men who are blessed with such beautiful ladies and flowers as I am on this glorious morning,” Doc said.

  “I bet you say that to all your patients.” Mrs. Solomon smiled.

  “No. I don’t think Mr. Solomon would appreciate me calling him a beautiful lady,” Doc teased, and they laughed. “How is our patient this morning?” He paused. “Well, let me have a look at that wound of yours.”

  The redness in the area remained but the swelling and puffiness had retreated quite a bit. “Not as bad as yesterday, but still a little worrisome.” Doc examined his patient’s face, touching her forehead. “No fever, heart sounds good and stronger today. I’ll return in a few hours to check on you again. One of the children cut his hand. It’s little Ray, and I’m going to have to stitch him up.” The Doc replaced the bandage and left the room.

  ****

  Clara and Lola bid good day to Doc and Mrs. Solomon as the young women left the room.

  “That was a good report Doc gave you, Flora. I can’t wait until you wake up. I want so much to get to know you. You have so many people that care about you, I almost feel like I’ve been robbed of the opportunity they’ve had.” Mrs. Solomon gave a small laugh.

  Continuing where she’d left off the day before, Mrs. Solomon in her pleasant, cheerful voice went back to telling stories again. Ocasionally her mind wandered off to tell stories of her two daughters and six sons besides Stephen and Joseph.

  In a few hours, Doc returned. Checking Zaidee’s bandage and the amount of seepage from the wound, Doc applied more poultices Lola had prepared beforehand. “I think I shall leave this bandage off and let your wound get some fresh air today.” He retreated from the room.

  Mrs. Solomon placed rags under the wound to keep it from draining on the bed. The smell of infection wasn’t strong like it had been. She returned to her crocheting and storytelling. Lola came in to relieve her, humming to Zaidee.

  An armful of fresh flowers Lola had unloaded on the empty bed across the room added freshness to the sunshine coming in the window. A slight breeze cooled and welcomed the occupants. Mrs. Solomon told Lola of Doc’s report. She took her exit to spend time with her grandchildren.

  ****

  “Looks like it’s the two of us, Miss Flora.” Lola replaced flowers in the vases with fresh ones. “I’ll tell you about that woman, Mrs. Solomon. She’s one of the kindest ladies you’ll ever meet. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she can catch a temper if’n she gets a notion. She doesn’t do that often. She’s a fair and honorable woman.”

  Lola laughed. “One day, Mr. Solomon’s chickens was a-diggin’ in her garden. There was ‘bout a hundred of them out there scratchin’ around. Lawdy, lawdy, I ain’t never heard so much commotion in my life. When Mr. Solomon went to look for them chickens, all he found was Mrs. Solomon and four maids cookin’ them up for a feast. That was the year we started our monthly feast as a family. One’s like we had when you first come here.

  “Oh, Flora, I wish you’d wake up. You’s missing out on life lying in that bed. The day is a beautiful day for a walk in the gardens. A wonderful, wonderful day.” Lola moved to the window and imagined. “Well, maybe I can take you on a stroll with me, we’ll be barefoot this stroll on ‘count you ain’t got no shoes on. I’ll take mine off too.”

  Lola took her shoes off and placed them by the door, then returned to the window. “The cool wooden po’ch shades us from the hot sun. We carry a glass of lemonade to the gardens. We step down from the po’ch onto the bricks that are hotter than flames. Get in the grass with me, Miss Flora. Yo’s gonna blister yo’r feet over there on them bricks. Oh, the cushiony green grass is putting out the fire from them bricks, don’t you think? Do you see that bluebird up in that tree? Ain’t he a sight?”

  Lola continued their stroll through the gardens. When they returned from their walk, Lola turned to see Zaidee staring at her with a smile on her face.

  ****

  “Beautiful,” Zaidee said lightly.

  Lola whooped and hollered. Doc rushed in followed by Clara and Mrs. Solomon. They all gathered around Zaidee, jumping, crying, and carrying on, comparable to witnessing a phenomenon of some sort. Zaidee was confused at the emotional scene. Isaac rushed into the room with a tray of broth and fresh water.

  “Are you hungry?” Doc asked.

  “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.” Zaidee’s reply started laughter in the room.

  “Try two weeks.” Lola said.

  “What? No, we just came in from a run in the fields, didn’t we, Clara, Lola?” Confusion etched on Zaidee’s face.

  The exchange of looks from the people around her told Zaidee she’d missed something. She actually felt like she had missed out.

  “My name’s Zaidee, Zaidee Rogers.” She held her hand out to Mrs. Solomon. “And who might you be?”

  “My name is Mrs. Solomon. You are at Willowbend Plantation. My son, Joseph, owns it. He bought it from Clara’s family.” Mrs. Solomon took Zaidee’s hand.

  All eyes in the room were now on Zaidee, as her memory of how she came here slowly returned to her. Tears filled her eyes. “Please don’t think ill of me. I didn’t want to lie to any of you. Where is Joseph? I need to talk to Joseph.”

  “Would you prefer us to continue to call you Flora until this mess is cleared up? Joseph is away on a business trip. Stephen and Mr. Solomon went with him and they will be home in a few more days.” Clara’s understanding tone let Zaidee know there was no reason for her to explain, and they wouldn’t press for an explanation.

  “You would do that for me? But—”

  “Come now, you must sip your broth and gain your strength back, Miss Flora.” Doc smiled.

  Mrs. Solomon steadied the bowl of broth while Zaidee ravished the hot liquid.

  “Why does my stomach hurt so bad?” She looked down to see her exposed wound. “I remember I looked up and there was a man with a gun, the loud bang hurt my ears, then down to my stomach, I had a terrible burning sensation.”

  “You have been in a coma for two weeks. We have guards posted everywhere to keep you safe. Joseph would skin us alive if we don’t keep you safe,” Clara said.

  “He has no reason to feel that way.” Zaidee’s mind floated back to the kiss. She raised her hand and caressed her lips.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Doc wouldn’t let Zaidee out of bed. Her legs hadn’t regained strength and he didn’t want her to fall and irritate the wound any further. It was still red and sore but she felt a need to move about. It had been two weeks since she’d awakened, and now she was ready to get outside for fresh air.

  Zaidee talked Doc into letting her be pushed to the second floor gallery in the chair Isaac attached wheels to. He warned against overtiring herself. She promised she wouldn’t get out of the chair except to get back into bed. He agreed and gave Zaidee’s three unofficial nurses strict orders.

  Lemonade was served on the gallery. The four women sat, drank, and reminisced, getting to know each other better.

  The rattling wagon that hurried down the lane to the mansion drew Zaidee’s attention. Mrs. Solomon and Clara were halfway down the winding stairs when the buckboard rolled to a halt.

  Zaidee’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She spotted Joseph jumping from the wagon and running toward her. His muscular body strained against his clothes as he took the stairs in twos. Her breath choked with the excitement welling inside.

  Joseph was almost to the top of the stairs before the women reached their husbands on the ground. He dropped to his knees in front of Zaidee. He leaned in, pulled her to him, and held her tight. Showering her face with kisses, laughing, shaking. Speechless, Zaidee wondered what she had done to deserve the display of emotion.

  “Joseph, are you all right?” Zaidee stared at him.

  “Yes, I have never been better. How are you feeling? Wh
en did you wake up? Is the wound healed?”

  “I feel fine, still sore. Doc won’t let me up to walk. I woke two days ago. Doc says the wound is healing rather fast now. I met your mother, who is a nice lady. I think I heard stories, but they could’ve been dreams.” Zaidee lowered her head, dreading the words she knew he needed to hear. “I need to talk to you.”

  Rolling the chair into her room, he shut the door behind them. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to tell.”

  “My name is Zaidee Rogers, but you already knew that.” She noticed him nodding his head and a sparkle in his eyes.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “How did you know? If it was so easy to figure out, that would make it easy for the killers also.”

  “Before I met you there was an article in a New Orleans paper. Your picture was posted beside an article. I recognized you right off. No one else did. That’s why I volunteered to get you off the streets. Some people there are ruthless and would’ve turned you in or killed you for the reward money. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “Why would you want to put your family, friends, and plantation workers through torment for a woman you knew nothing about?”

  “We’re different than most others. You showed us your heart. The woman inside you is the one we fell in love with. You tried to hide many things. We knew you were fighting to keep us safe from your secret. No one here knows that secret. They figured you had troubles. When you were ready to tell them, they would be here for you, not your name or anything else. Just for the woman they love.”

  “I need to tell you the story of what happened.”

  “You need to wait a while longer. There’s still a threat on your life. The longer we can keep your identity secret, the easier it will be to catch this person. Do you know who he is?”

  “No, I know what he looks like. I watched him kill Emmett, my brother.” She shuddered and gazed at Joseph. “I watched him burn the school. When I screamed, he saw me and came after me. That’s why I ran. Not from the rumors.”