Atlanta

by Sara Orwig

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The carriage jiggled over the cobblestones, and she smoothed Fortune’s hair away from his face, feeling his burning skin. When they climbed to the upper level in front of Factor’s Walk and turned a corner, River Street and Trevor Wenger were lost from view.

  As soon as she got Fortune in bed in the hotel room, she said, “Wash your hands, Michael. You can help me take care of Papa.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, running across the room to a basin. She poured cold water into a bowl and dipped a cloth into it. “Rub Papa’s skin lightly with this, Michael. so we can try to cool him. Be careful you don’t bump against him where he’s wounded.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  While Michael did as she told him, she carefully unbuttoned Fortune’s shirt and tried to remove it, finally cutting it away so she wouldn’t hurt him. A knock came and she hurried to the door.

  “Dr. Roth, come in, please. He collapsed when he was down at the wharf.”

  “He should never have gotten out of bed!” Roth snapped. Michael moved out of his way, and the doctor bent over Fortune. She motioned to the boy, and he backed away toward her. She could see the worry and alarm in his wide eyes and knew he was frightened.

  “Michael, why don’t you let Badru take you downstairs while Dr. Roth looks at Papa? It’ll be better. Take one of your books.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. His innocent eyes looked up at her, his lower lip thrust out. “Will Papa get well?”

  “Yes, Michael, he will,” she said, unable to answer the child any other way.

  He nodded, and she opened the door to motion to Badru. “Would you take Michael downstairs and watch him? The minute I can, I’ll come get him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She turned to watch Michael rummage in his satchel and return with a book. He left with Badru, and she closed the door behind them.

  She sat in a chair, waiting while Dr. Roth worked over Fortune. Finally the doctor closed the black bag and turned around.

  “I can’t tell you whether he’ll make it through the night. His fever is burning him up. Try to keep him cooled down with cold water. You can order ice from the hotel. The shoulder wound is infected, and I’ve done what I can for that. Only time will tell.”

  She nodded, on the brink of tears, unable to think about losing him now. And what a dreadful loss it would be for Michael. “Thank you for coming.”

  “He’s a strong man. He may fight it off.” She nodded and went to the door with him. He paused with his hand on the knob. “I’ll come by this evening.”

  “Thank you.” She closed the door and crossed the room to the bed, looking down at Fortune. His skin was flushed and he lay still. She wiped tears from her eyes and leaned down to brush his forehead with a light kiss. “Please get well. Michael and I need you. And you have another child now who needs you, Fortune. Get well for us.”

  She wiped her eyes again and turned to go into the lobby. Michael was curled in a red chair with his legs beneath him, the book propped in his lap, but he glanced up and saw her and closed the book.

  She went to the desk to order a block of ice and tub be sent to their room. Then she turned to hurry back to get cold cloths on Fortune.

  All three of them worked to get him cool. As Badru bent over him, placing a folded cloth across Fortune’s forehead, she looked at him.

  “Badru, you don’t have to stay. Michael and I can do this.”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t mind staying, and I can help turn him if we need to. I’m all right, ma’am.”

  When the ice came, Badru chipped chunks of it, and they placed the ice in the washcloths and wet towels. Finally she took Michael’s hand. “Badru, we’ll be back in a minute.”

  As he nodded his head, she took Michael to the adjoining room.

  She sat down, motioning Michael to come close. He threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Mama, I want Papa to get well.”

  “He will, love.” She stroked Michael’s head and tried to get control of her emotions. When she felt she could face him without tears, she took the boy by the shoulders and moved him back to look into his eyes. “Michael, how did your grandfather get you?”

  He frowned and blinked, looking worried, and she wondered if he had had a bad fright. “I woke up and I was at his house.”

  “You slept through someone moving you from our house to his house?” she asked, surprised. Then she remembered how soundly Michael slept and knew someone could have moved him easily.

  “Yes, ma’am. He said that he had gone to see you and Papa after I was in bed asleep and that he was sailing to France soon and wanted to take me. He said at first Papa said I couldn’t go and was angry about him asking, but he said all of you talked a long time until it was very late at night and finally you talked Papa into letting me go for one month.”

  “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry, but your grandfather wanted you with him so badly, he didn’t tell you the truth.”

  “I didn’t think he did. I told him I wanted to go home.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me he would take me home, but first he wanted to show me something he had bought for me. He always had some reason not to go home, and then he said I should spend one more night with him. When I woke up the next morning, we were in another town. I told him I’d run away.”

  “Oh, Michael!” She pulled him to her, pained that he had had such an experience with his grandfather. Michael wriggled and she released him.

  “It’s all right, Mama. He wasn’t mean, he just wanted me to go with him. He said when we got to Savannah, if I still wanted to go home, he would telegraph you and Papa to come get me. After that we got along fine.”

  She smiled, rubbing her fingers along his soft cheek, knowing that once they reached Savannah, Trevor would have put Michael on board the boat. “When I saw Papa, I wanted to go to him, but Grandfather said that I couldn’t. Clarence was in the carriage with us, and he wouldn’t let me go until I kicked him and jumped out.”

  “Well, you’re back with us now.”

  “Mama, Grandfather was good to me, except the part about letting me go home.”

  “He is, but Michael, when you love someone, you must think of them and what makes them happy, and your grandfather hasn’t learned to do that.”

  She gazed into Michael’s brown eyes while he mulled over this idea. Finally he nodded and she framed his face with her hands. “What counts is you’re here with us now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The afternoon passed slowly, with the three of them taking turns at applying fresh cloths. Seeing Badru had matters well in hand, Claire took Michael out to get some pajamas and clothes for the next day. When Dr. Roth returned that evening, he was kind but said that Fortune’s condition was unchanged.

  Before Michael went to bed, he walked quietly into their bedroom and went to the bed to touch Fortune’s hand. She bit back tears as the boy stepped up on the footstool and leaned close to kiss Fortune’s cheek. She looked at Badru, who turned away quickly and wiped his eyes.

  “I love you, Papa. Get well, please,” Michael said, touching Fortune’s jaw. Climbing down, he smiled at her, and she smiled in return, her eyes blurring with tears as Michael kissed her good night and went to his room.

  “Badru, you don’t have to stay. I can do that now.”

  “Ma’am, I’m staying. He’ll need moving in the night.”

  She began to sponge Fortune off, seeing the bed was soaked from the wet cloths. She sat down beside him, closing her fingers around his hand and placing her head on the bed.

  A few minutes later, she stirred and lifted the cloth on his forehead; the material was hot to touch from his burning skin.

  “Ma’am, if you want to sleep, I can do this.”

  “No, I want to stay with him, but thank you.”

  Hours later, as dawn lightened the sky, Badru extinguished the lamps. “I’ll be back in a while, Miz O’Brien, unless you need me.
I can take care of Michael then.”

  “No. Go ahead. Thank you for staying all night.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He closed the door without a sound, and she looked at Fortune, pushing his tangled hair away from his forehead. She changed the washcloths and sat down again, taking his hand in hers. Growing sleepy, she put her head against the bed and dozed for a few minutes.

  She raised her head, disoriented. She found Fortune’s eyes were open.

  “Michael?” he whispered.

  “He’s in the next room. Oh, Fortune, you have to get well!” She ran her hand across his forehead, feeling it wet with sweat. She moved away to change cloths, dipping them in the tub of ice water and returning to sponge off his face. Yet as she did, she realized that he was no longer burning hot. His fever had broken.

  “You have a fever.”

  “I want to—”

  She pushed on his chest where it wasn’t bandaged, leaning over him. “Fortune O’Brien, I let you come to Savannah and nearly kill yourself getting Michael. Now you’ll do what I say so you get well. Don’t you move! I can help you with whatever you need, but you’re not moving!”

  He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t face an argument, and soon she realized he had dropped back off to sleep. Weary herself, she sat down and ran her fingers over his chest. His fever had broken, so maybe he had a chance.

  The next time he stirred, Badru was getting ready to take Michael out, and Fortune saw them. “Michael?”

  Michael ran to him. “Papa, are you all right?”

  Fortune put his good arm around the child and squeezed him against the bed, closing his eyes. Claire knew Fortune was fighting his emotions and couldn’t answer.

  “Papa?”

  “Yes, I am, Michael.”

  “Good! Mama said you’d get well and so did Badru.”

  “Michael, you go with Badru now and let Papa sleep,” Claire said gently, pulling Michael from the bed. He flung a grin at Fortune, and then ran to join Badru. She looked at Fortune and suddenly she couldn’t keep back the tears of relief.

  “Fortune—”

  She moved to the chair, hugging him where he wasn’t hurt, one hand in his hair, her arm across his belly. “Fortune, you have to get well for all of us.”

  He stroked her head. “I will, Claire. You’d shoot me if I didn’t.”

  She sobbed, letting go finally.

  After a few minutes, she got control and sat up to wipe her eyes. He had gone back to sleep, and she rechecked his forehead. It wasn’t as hot as even a few hours before.

  She sponged him off and left cold cloths on him, finally sitting in a chair until he stirred again.

  The next time he opened his eyes, she stood up and crossed the room to him. “I’m going to order some food for you.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “But you have to eat it so you’ll get well.” She left and in a short time porters appeared bringing a tray of chicken soup, biscuits, fried chicken. As she fed him, his blue eyes watched her steadily, but he seemed to have strength only to eat and before he had eaten half the food, he closed his eyes and she realized he was asleep.

  The afternoon of the next day, she stirred and sat up to find Fortune watching her. “Where’s Michael?”

  “Out with Badru.”

  “Help me up, Claire. I’ve laid in this bed long enough.”

  “No! You stay still.”

  “Claire, I’ve been still. If I don’t get up soon, I’ll be too weak to recover. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere out of this room.”

  She frowned but finally reached down to help him sit up. He groaned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Taking her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and smiled at her.

  Puzzled, she smiled in return, wondering what was running through his mind. Perhaps he was still delirious. She felt his brow and he seemed cooler than before. After a few painful, stumbling walks around the room, he sat quietly, finally lying down again and dozing.

  During the night she sat at his bedside, sending Badru to get some sleep because Dr. Roth had said the crisis had passed. Soon she was dozing with her head down near him. When she stirred and woke, she found she was looking at an empty bed.

  Panic seized her and she whirled about. Fortune stood across the room, clinging to a chest, his face pale.

  “Fortune O’Brien!” She stood up and crossed the room to him, taking him by the arm. “You weren’t supposed to get up.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist. “Claire, you’re a very special woman,” he said softly. He tilted her chin up toward him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  “Let me get you back to bed and we’ll talk. I don’t want you to faint on me again. Badru isn’t here.”

  Fortune draped his arm around her shoulders. As she started to turn toward the bed, he swung her around and leaned down to kiss her.

  She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then pushed away, looking up at him. “Fortune O’Brien, you get back in your bed!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, laughing.

  Her heart was gladdened, because he had to be feeling a great deal better. “Claire, as soon as the hotel kitchen opens, order something for me. Suddenly I’m hungry enough to eat my pillow.”

  Three hours later, after he had eaten biscuits and molasses and flapjacks and sausage, Dr. Roth snapped shut his black bag. “I don’t think you’ll be needing me. I’ll come by tomorrow just to make certain you’re on the mend. Mr. O’Brien, you’re one of the toughest patients I’ve ever had. I thought we’d lost you one night there.”

  “Thanks for all you’ve done.”

  Dr. Roth nodded and headed toward the door.

  “Doctor, when can I leave for Atlanta?”

  “Are you going to heed my answer, son?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’d wait a week or so until you feel good and those wounds are healed. You’ll know.”

  Claire paid his bill and walked him into the hall. “Thank you, Doctor, for taking care of my husband.”

  “I didn’t know whether he’d make it or not, but I think he’s out of danger now. Take care going home and watch out for robbers.”

  “Yes, sir, and thank you again.”

  She closed the door and turned back to find Fortune sitting on the side of the bed. “Come here, Claire.”

  She crossed the room, stopping a few feet from him. He reached out to take her upper arm and drew her to him. “Come closer,” he said in a deep voice, spreading his legs apart and pulling her between his thighs.

  Suddenly she realized she had sat up with him all night and hadn’t combed her hair since the afternoon before. Her green muslin dress was wrinkled, and she reached down to smooth her collar, feeling self-conscious. He needed a shave, his hair was a tangle, but his color was good again. “You’ve sat up with me every night, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. Did you think I’d go off and leave you?”

  “No,” he said, smiling. “Doc Roth said you could change my bandages from now on.”

  “He’s changed them today, and they don’t need changing again. Since you’ve stopped doing things you shouldn’t, you’re healing.”

  His expression sobered. “Claire, did you talk to Michael about Wenger? Did Wenger frighten him?”

  She told him what Michael had told her, knowing Fortune needed to hear exactly what Michael had said. Finally she finished and Fortune shook his head.

  “That damned bastard. Do you think Michael’s afraid?”

  “No. I think he was far more afraid about you, and now that that worry is gone, he’s enjoying himself with Badru. I must say, he’s making a big effort to keep Michael entertained. They’ve been down to the dock and on board a ship. Badru even took him fishing on a flatboat. Michael is doing fine.”

  Fortune rubbed her arms. “What’ll I do with you? Don’t you ever again step in front of a man who is pointing a loaded gun at me.”

  “I didn’t stop to think,” she
said quietly. “Michael looked so panicked and Trevor Wenger looked as if he would shoot you right in front of Michael at any moment. I just couldn’t bear it.” She touched his face. “I love you, Fortune, and I don’t mind that you don’t love me in return.”

  Fortune braced his hand on her shoulder and stood up. His good arm went around her and he hold her, but he didn’t pull her close. “I can’t hug you or I would.”

  She touched his cheek. “I was so afraid Michael and I would lose you.”

  “Claire, I love you too,” he said.

  Her breath caught, and she looked into his blue eyes. “Fortune—”

  “When you stepped in front of that revolver, I can’t tell you what I felt,” Fortune said. His voice lowered, an intensity coming to it that made her heart pound. “I was so damned frightened that I was going to lose you to him, just as I had lost Marilee. Honey, I loved Marilee with all my heart, but that’s over. And my grieving is over. Life goes on. There’s room in the heart for another love. You showed me that.”

  “Fortune,” she said, overcome with joy at his declaration. “Do you forgive me for taking Michael to see his grandfather?”

  “Yes, I do. I know you did what you thought was best, and you didn’t know the man like I did. On the other hand, maybe what you said to him back there on the dock made him stop and realize what he had done. He still could have kept us from leaving with Michael. He had the drop on me.” Fortune’s voice softened, and he stroked a lock of hair from her face. “I would prefer an obedient wife, but I know that’s hopeless to expect.”

  She saw the amusement in his gaze, but she was still thinking about what he had told her before. She stared at him, wondering if he really had thought it over.

  His gaze sobered and he framed her face with his hands. “Claire O’Brien, I love you. I’d like to show you what I feel, but I can’t hug you yet.”

  “Fortune, oh—” She felt tears of joy well up and she stood on tiptoe, bringing his head down to kiss him, her tongue touching his. His arm banded her waist, and he held her tightly while he leaned over her and kissed her hungrily.