The Vow
Page 30
“The tariffs on imported silk are too low,” Hannah explained. “If Congress would raise them, we’d be able to compete.”
Georgia sighed. “It’s all too complicated for me to understand. I just like wearing silk.”
Hannah smiled in spite of the persistent sore throat that was spoiling her afternoon.
“What do you think?” Georgia held up the forest-green silk, then a dark brown one.
Hannah assessed one, then the other. “Both accentuate your coloring, but the dark brown is much too drab. I think James would prefer to see you in something more colorful, like the green.”
Georgia’s face lit up with childlike delight. “I think so, too.” Then she frowned at Hannah. “Why does your voice sound funny?”
Hannah dismissed her sore throat with a wave of her hand. “It’s nothing.”
Georgia looked guilty. “Why did you agree to come with me if you’re sick? I could have waited.”
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Hannah smiled. “I’m not sick. I merely have a slight sore throat. And you need a little time away from Elisabeth. She’s a darling little girl, but she’s been running you ragged.”
“I don’t mind.”
Miss Zola entered the room carrying a contraption that caught her customers’ attention immediately.
Georgia said, “Is that one of the new hoops that all the ladies are wearing?”
“Oui, mademoiselle,” Miss Zola said. “By wearing one of these beneath your skirts, not only do you give them a graceful bell shape that the gentlemen admire, but you also don’t have to wear several layers of heavy crinoline.”
She lifted her own skirt to demonstrate the advantages of the new collapsible hoop that resembled a bird cage. While Georgia exclaimed over the ingenious new invention, Hannah felt herself growing uncomfortably hot.
She fanned herself with her handkerchief. The weather was so unseasonably warm for late April.
Georgia looked at Hannah. “Do you think we should get one?”
“Of course.” Hannah dabbed at her sweating brow with her handkerchief.
“We may live in a small town, but that’s no reason for us to be unfashionable.”
“You must be careful when you sit down,” Miss Zola warned them, “or the hoop will fly up in your face and display your unmentionables for the world to see.” She placed her hand on her cheek in an attitude of dismay. “Most embarrassing, no?”
Georgia giggled.
“And,” the dressmaker went on, “you must be careful going through doors.
If your skirt is too wide, you may become stuck, and the gentlemen will have to push you through. Most embarrassing, no?”
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Georgia squinted at Hannah. “Are you sure you’re all right? Your face is so flushed.”
“I’m fine. Now, shall we order some dresses and be on our way?”
By the time they finished at Miss Zola’s, Hannah was racked with chills that grew worse all the way back to Coldwater. By the time the carriage pulled up to their front door, she was so dizzy she could barely stand and had to rely on Georgia to help her.
The minute they stepped into the hallway, Georgia called out, “Someone help us. Please!”
Mrs. Hardy, who had been dozing in the parlor, scowled at them. “Quiet down, will you? It’s too noisy in here.”
Georgia glared back at her. “You selfish old lady! Can’t you see that Hannah’s ill?”
Mrs. Hardy hoisted herself out of her chair, her wrinkled face furious.
“Selfish, am I? See here, you snippy little upstart, I—” She stopped abruptly when she saw Hannah swaying on her feet. “Let’s get her upstairs.”
With Georgia on one side and Mrs. Hardy on the other, they managed to navigate the stairs and get Hannah into her bedroom, where she sank down on the edge of the bed.
“I—I feel so weak,” Hannah murmured.
“You go for Reiver,” Mrs. Hardy said to Georgia. “I’ll undress her and get her into bed.”
“Don’t worry, Hannah,” Georgia said, flying out the door in a flutter of ribbons. “You’re going to be all right.”
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That evening the family gathered in the parlor to await old Dr. Bradley’s verdict.
Reiver stood at the window with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out of glazed, unseeing eyes into the darkness. James sat with Georgia on the settee, stroking her hand, while the boys sprawled on the floor. Mrs. Hardy occupied the wing chair by the fire, knotting her fingers together in her lap. No one said a word, but the silence stretched as taut as a wire.
Finally Benjamin said, “Father, is Mama going to die?”
“Of course not, you idiot!” Davey snapped, punching his brother’s shoulder.
Georgia burst into tears, and James drew her into his arms, murmuring reassurances. Mrs. Hardy just stared into the cold fireplace, her rheumy silver eyes misty.
Benjamin took a retaliatory swipe at his brother, causing Reiver to whirl around and growl, “Now stop it, both of you, before I box your ears. Damn it, your mother’s sick, and the last thing any of us need is the two of you fighting!”
Both boys muttered their apologies and sat there in subdued silence.
They all sprang to attention at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Dr.
Bradley appeared in the doorway, his face grave.
Reiver went to him at once. “How is she?”
The doctor surveyed the room. “Not well, I’m afraid. She has a high fever and an infection in her lungs. Perhaps with diligent nursing, she will recover, but to be honest with you all, I don’t hold much hope. I’ve seen several cases of this fever in Coldwater, and only one patient survived.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
Georgia sprang to her feet, dabbing her eyes furiously. “Hannah won’t die if I have anything to do with it. I want to nurse her.”
Dr. Bradley said, “Mrs. Shaw can only have one nurse. And I must warn you that you run the risk of getting sick, too.”
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James took Georgia’s hand, his eyes pleading with her not to make such a sacrifice.
“I have to,” she said to him. “Hannah saved me when I had no place to go.
It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll nurse her,” Mrs. Hardy said from the depths of her chair. “You may be a fresh little upstart, but you’re too young to die. I’m old and they’ll be stitching mourning samplers in my memory soon enough. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“Neither of you will.” Reiver rolled up his shirt sleeves. “She’s my wife. I’ll nurse her.”
Benjamin sprang to his feet. “No, Father! What if you catch the fever, too?”
Dr. Bradley said, “The boy has a point, Mr. Shaw. You have your family to consider. We wouldn’t want to lose both of you.”
Reiver placed his hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “This is something I have to do, son.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Then he turned to the doctor.
“Now, what do I have to do?”
“First we have to cut her hair so it won’t sap her strength…”
Reiver bathed Hannah’s flushed face and neck with cool water to try to bring down the fever that was devouring her. With her shorn hair, she looked as young and vulnerable as a baby.
Restless, she tossed her head, her clutching fingers trying to push away the mound of quilts piled on top of her. Reiver patiently drew her hands away and covered her again. Dr. Bradley had said they might burn the fever out of her if they kept her hot enough.
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Fighting fire with fire, Reiver thought, wringing out the compress in a basin of cold water.
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bsp; The sound of her labored breathing sent shivers down his spine. Every breath was a struggle for her, ending in an ominous rattle.
On this second full day of his vigil, Reiver himself felt drained and exhausted. When Hannah grew still, he dozed on a feather bed on the floor near her bed, but most of the time he did what he could to make her comfortable and waited for her to die.
Hannah dead… Reiver rubbed his stubble-roughened jaw. She had been a part of his life for seventeen years, sharing his bed, bearing and raising his sons.
If she died, he would feel as if he had lost an arm or a leg. He would miss her and grieve for her.
Yet if she died, he would regain control of Shaw Silks.
And he did want his mill back, but did he want it at the price of Hannah’s life?
He shook his head. “You unprincipled bastard.” But he had always known that about himself.
Reiver placed his hand against her forehead. Her flesh felt as though it were on fire. The doctor said that if her fever didn’t break soon and kept on rising, convulsions and death would certainly follow.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Hannah moaned, mumbling something unintelligible.
Reiver put his ear closer to her parched lips.
“Samuel…come to me. I need you now. Where are you? So alone…alone.”
Her voice faded away into a whisper and ended in a choking cough.
A bitter smile twisted Reiver’s mouth. On her deathbed all Hannah could think of was her lover.
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A soft knock sent Reiver to the door. When he opened it just a crack, he found Georgia standing there as he knew he would, her tearstained face exhausted and bleak with worry.
“How is she?” she whispered.
“Not good,” he whispered back. “The fever just keeps going higher.” He looked back at the bed where Hannah lay tossing and turning. “She was delirious a minute ago, talking to herself.”
“Poor Hannah.” She sniffed into her handkerchief.
“How are the boys faring?”
“They’re trying to be brave, but I can tell they’ve been crying, especially Davey.”
Reiver shook his head in sympathy for his poor sons, then asked, “What time is it?”
“Almost two o’clock in the morning.”
The Grim Reaper’s favorite calling hour.
“I’d better get back to her,” Reiver said, closing the door when Georgia went away.
No sooner did Reiver return to his chair than Hannah became agitated again, thrashing about with extraordinary force, flailing her arms as if fighting off death. Her breathing came faster and faster.
Reiver watched her, waiting for the end.
Without warning, Hannah sat bolt upright. Her eyes flew open, and she stared into the far corner of her bedroom at something only she could see.
“Mama?” she cried, and fell limp and lifeless against the pillows.
She was dead. The mill was his.
Reiver placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. They flew open when he heard his dead wife sigh.
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He placed his hand against her cheek, and the flesh felt cool to his touch, not the deep cold of death. The fever had peaked and broken, and now she slept.
He rose, relief and guilt flooding through him in equal measure, and staggered to the door. Flinging it open, he yelled, “Everyone! Come quickly! The fever’s broken!”
Hannah would live after all.
Hannah sat up in bed and stared at her reflection in the hand mirror. She fingered her shorn locks and made a face of distaste.
“I look like a little boy,” she said to Georgia.
“But a very pretty little boy,” Georgia replied, taking away the lunch tray.
Hannah set down the mirror. “I’m just glad to be alive. I shouldn’t care what I look like.”
Georgia grinned. “All women care what they look like.” Then her smile died.
“You gave us all quite a scare.”
“I think Benjamin and Davey most of all. They come to visit me every day, and sit so quietly like perfect little gentlemen. They don’t even argue.” Her eyes twinkled. “Imagine that!”
“The thought of losing their mama really put the fear of the Lord into them.”
Georgia headed for the door. “Well, enough of my chatter. I should leave you alone so you can get some rest. It’s only been two weeks since your fever broke.”
Hannah sighed. “I feel like it’s been an eternity.”
She lay back against the pillows. She knew she had come within a hair’s-breadth of dying. In her delirium, she had seen her life unfold before her as if she were watching it from a great distance, one last look, she supposed, before bidding it farewell. She had even imagined that her mother was with her in the
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bedroom, as warm and loving as she remembered, coddled in a serene golden light. Reiver had said that she had called out for her mother just before her fever peaked.
Most surprising in her whole ordeal was the fact that Reiver had risked his own life to nurse her. Perhaps he felt something for her after all.
She dozed, and when she awoke, she found Reiver standing in the doorway.
He said, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I was just dozing. I’m really quite tired of lying in bed all day. I want to be up and about.”
“Well, today’s your lucky day.” He reached for her dressing gown, which was draped over a chair. “Put this on and come with me.”
Bursting with curiosity, Hannah put on her dressing gown, took Reiver’s proffered arm, and let him escort her downstairs.
When she realized he was leading her toward the front door, she balked. “I can’t go outside like this!”
“But I have a surprise for you.”
Reiver flung open the front door. When Hannah stepped out onto the porch, she gasped in surprise, for everyone who worked for Shaw Silks stood there clapping.
Maria Torelli, Giuseppe the dye master’s youngest daughter, dressed in her Sunday best, stepped forward with a large bouquet of wildflowers and, with a shy smile and a curtsy, presented them to Hannah.
Tears filled her eyes. “I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you all so much.”
Constance Ferry, who had returned to the company after Hannah had persuaded her husband to reinstate the wage cuts years ago, stepped forward. “I know I speak for everyone when I say that we were all praying for your recovery, Mrs. Shaw. Thank God our prayers were answered.”
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Hannah thanked them again, and the workers turned and headed back to the mill.
Back in the house, Hannah smiled at Reiver. “How sweet of them to do this.”
“They all think the world of you,” he replied. “James told me that while you were sick, the minute he walked into the mill in the morning, all the workers gathered around him and asked for you. And when they learned you were going to get well, they hugged each other and cried. Even some of the men.”
Hannah stopped at the foot of the stairs. “That’s because we don’t exploit them. If you treat people fairly, you’ll win their loyalty.”
Reiver smiled wryly. “So you’ve always told me.”
Once Hannah was back in bed, Reiver walked over to the window, his features somber. “Will you give me another chance now, Hannah?”
She ran her hand over the coverlet. “Reiver—”
“When you were dying, the thought occurred to me that if you did die, the mill would be mine again.” He studied her. “I can see that I’ve shocked you. I shocked myself by even thinking it.” He walked over to the foot of her bed and stood there, his emotions baldly written on his face. “I know I haven’t been a goo
d husband to you, Hannah, but I didn’t want you to die. I realized how empty my life would be without you, and it terrified me.
“I’ve done everything I can to win your trust, but—” He shrugged helplessly.
Little by little she felt the wall surrounding her begin to crumble. She had no illusions about Reiver. She could never surrender to him completely, but perhaps she could learn to get along with him and make something meaningful of the rest of their lives.
She slipped out of bed and walked over to him. “If you’re willing to try again, so am I.”
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A huge grin split his face. “Hannah, I—”
“But I have to go slowly.”
He knew what that entailed. “All I ask is another chance.”
“Then you shall have it.”
She hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.
“We can’t wait any longer,” James announced to the family members who were seated at the dining room table.
Hannah said, “Can’t wait for what?”
He brushed his hair out of his eyes and glanced at Georgia, sitting beside him. “We can’t wait for Samuel to come home before we get married.”
“The summer’s almost over,” Georgia said. “Before we know it, winter will be here.” She made a face. “We don’t want to get married in the winter.”
When James asked if anyone had received a letter from Samuel, Hannah shook her head. “It’s been a year since I invited him to your wedding.”
Reiver looked around the table, his expression grave. “I think we all have to consider the fact that Samuel may be dead.”
Hannah felt the blood drain from her face and she suddenly lost her appetite.
He couldn’t be dead. Not Samuel.
“If he were alive,” Reiver continued, “I’m sure he would have responded to an invitation to his brother’s wedding.”