by Cindy Gerard
She looked as if she’d just been kissed awake and the blush hadn’t yet found its way to her pale cheeks. Beneath a delicate wreath of tiny white flowers and a shoulder-length veil, her red gold curls tumbled in an untidy fall from the top of her head, whispered in feathery ringlets along the porcelain column of her throat.
Those brilliant violet eyes were a misty shade of lavender and, he realized in a startling moment of alarm, as pale as the ashen pallor of her face—a pallor that he recognized came from pain.
“Ellie?” He set down his luggage and quickly went to her. “Are you okay?”
Her nod was slow in coming, her smile forced and breakable. Both lacked her usual exuberance. “I-I’ll just get my wrap.”
Her movements were calculated and careful as she reached for a shimmering white shawl of intricate lace and trailing fringe that was touchingly old-fashioned. Without asking, he took it from her unsteady hands, placed it carefully around her—too aware of the contrast of his big, work-roughened hands cupping her delicate shoulders. Acutely aware of her trembling.
He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath and accepted what was happening here. She wasn’t well.
“Ellie,” he said gently. “If you’re not up to this—”
“I’m…fine,” she insisted but without much strength in her words. “Really,” she repeated, reacting to the frown of concern he knew was darkening his face.
She wasn’t fine. That much was obvious. But this was new ground for him—as was the possibility that something other than illness could be responsible for that feverish look in her eyes. Maybe the reality of what was about to happen was finally hitting her. Maybe his virgin bride was simply scared to death.
And why the hell wouldn’t she be? He hadn’t exactly played the part of the love-struck bridegroom. Because he wasn’t. And never would be. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t be kind, and it didn’t mean that he didn’t care about her. It was past time he gave her at least that much.
He smoothed a hand down her veil. “You know, we don’t have to do this today. If you need more time to get used to the idea—”
“I don’t…need time,” she whispered, her speech uncharacteristically slow, her head down, her small hands clutched tightly together as if she had to concentrate to get the words out. “I’ve waited for you…all my life. I don’t want to wait any longer.” The guilelessness of her admission both humbled and angered him. She deserved better than this. She deserved a white knight to sweep her away to a gilded castle in an enchanted forest. Instead, she was getting him. Her head was filled with illusions about who and what he was.
Well, he knew exactly what he was…and what he wasn’t. He’d never been and would never be Lancelot material. And he would never be the man she needed him to be.
Still, this was going to happen, even though she was a total innocent—something he didn’t think he’d ever been. It didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t have enough compassion to know she needed time.
“Ellie, there’s no shame in admitting that you’re…uneasy about this.” He ran his hands in a gentle caress down her arms to cup her elbows.
She raised her head, her eyes beseeching. “No. Not uneasy. Excited.” She smiled again, tragic and trembling. “I’m just excited.”
When he shook his head, damned if she didn’t try to put him at ease. “It will be all right, Lee. I’ll make you happy. I promise I’ll make you happy.”
For a long moment he simply searched those glittering eyes that gazed up at him with such faith. He knew then that even though he couldn’t give her what she wanted, he could at least give her something she needed. Whatever it took, he would earn her trust and her father’s. Starting right now.
He touched his fingers to her cheek, smiled. “Let’s go do this, princess. We can’t let your sunshine go to waste now, can we?”
Tears glistened, at once hopeful and weary and achingly vulnerable. “No. We can’t let it go to waste.”
She smiled then, and a foreign and flooding warmth filled his chest. “You look beautiful, Ellie.”
“So do you,” she exclaimed breathlessly.
Against all odds he laughed and, prompted by instincts that mandated chivalry and grand gestures, tucked her small hand in the crook of his elbow. “Well, now that we’ve got that established, your chariot awaits, m’lady.”
Then he walked her to his truck and tried to ignore the unsteadiness of her gait and the unsettling notion that a thief other than anxiety had stolen the sparkle from her eyes.
For Ellie the wedding ceremony drifted by on a murky mist of excruciating pain. It was always like that after a seizure. The aftermath was a headache and a bone-deep exhaustion that often sent her to her bed for one or two days. She hated the helplessness, hated that it dictated how she could live her life.
Not today. She was not going to let it beat her today. She stood at Lee’s side by sheer force of will, fighting to absorb it all, to stay on her feet, to feel the beat of her heart that assured her this was real. That she was here. She was with Lee, bathed in the blinding cylinders of sunlight refracting through the stained-glass window behind the altar. Smelling the sweet scent of the flowers he had thoughtfully placed in her hands. Watching the teary smiles of Martha Good, the pastor’s wife, who stood as witness. Saying the vows she had waited her lifetime to repeat.
“By the power vested in me—” Pastor Good’s lyrical voice reached through the fog and captured her full attention “—I pronounce you man and wife.”
With every thread of strength in her, she fought to hold on to the day that would mark the beginning of the life she had always wanted.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
She swallowed thickly, focused on Pastor Good’s warm, encouraging eyes, then turned toward Lee. A gentle smile played on his beautiful mouth as he folded her in a loose embrace.
She tipped her face to his, wanting to draw it all inside—the moment, the magic, the feel of the plain gold band warming on the ring finger of her left hand and binding them together as man and wife. The burning heat in his eyes as he searched her face and drew her slowly toward him.
She fought the pain, battled to keep and cherish this moment forever. Their first kiss as husband and wife. Their first kiss.
She lost herself in the searching blue of his eyes, the promise of his breath, warm and mint scented against her cheek. They were so kind, those eyes, but it wasn’t only kindness that she wanted from this man. She wanted always and forever. She wanted the magic that bubbled just below the surface every time she saw him. The thrill that raced along her nerve endings when he smiled. When he touched her. As he was touching her now.
As the pain touched her now.
She struggled to outdistance it. Willed away the crush of fatigue and thought only of him, of his lips brushing across hers, soft as a dream yet firm, commanding yet gentle. It was everything she’d imagined, many things she hadn’t. She melted into the warmth of his mouth, loving the scent of him, the heat of him, the power inherent in his big body, the tender caress of his hands.
But, despite the magic, despite the defiance with which she clung to the moment, she finally accepted that this was a battle she could not win, a victory she could never lay claim to.
For the second time that day her body betrayed her. That above all else she would remember about her wedding day as her world went black and she collapsed in her husband’s arms.
“Ellie. Ellie-girl, it’s time for you to join us again, honey.”
She came around slowly. Struggled until she placed a face to the kind older voice. “Doc?”
“That’s right, kiddo. Now open those pretty eyes for me so this wild man standing over my shoulder will know you’re all right. There you go. That’s the girl.”
Even though the only light in the examining room spilled softly from the hallway of Dr. Lundstrum’s office, pain exploded in her head when she opened her eyes. Pain, and a dawning realization of where she was, and where she wasn
’t. She wasn’t at the church. She wasn’t alone with her husband sharing the romantic picnic she had planned.
The physical discomfort suddenly paled in comparison to the pain in her heart. She flung an arm over her face to block the light and hide from the humiliation.
Doc’s voice floated over the top of it all. “I want to give you something to take the edge off, Ellie.”
“No,” she whispered, defiance threaded with defeat. “No. It will make me sleep. I don’t want to sleep. Not today.”
A soft, affectionate chuckle followed a reassuring pat on her arm. “Now’s not the time to be stubborn, little one. If we cut it today, you’ll be up and around tomorrow. Otherwise, you know it could be another day or two before you’re feeling better. You might be able to take it, but frankly, I don’t think your bridegroom can.”
Bridegroom. A hot tear welled up then spilled from the corner of her eye, trailed down her temple and got lost in the thickness of her hair. She hadn’t wanted Lee to see her like this. Not today. Not ever.
“Ellie, please.” Lee’s voice was gruff with worry, softly pleading. “Let Doc give you something.”
She squeezed back another tear, shamed and helpless to deny him. “Okay.”
Doc touched her arm lightly. “Good girl. I want to examine you first, Ellie, just to make sure I know what we’re dealing with here, then we’ll take the hammer out of that headache.”
“She just fainted, right, Doc?” Lee demanded in a hoarse and urgent whisper.
In the silence that followed, Ellie sensed Dr. Lundstrum’s speculative frown. She opened her eyes, saw the questions in the pale-gray eyes behind smudged bifocal lenses, and the furrows above his bushy white brows. She gave a small, pleading shake of her head.
Doc cleared his throat, let out a deep breath. He patted his blunt-fingered hand on the round belly that his sweet tooth had netted him over the years of enjoying his wife’s blue ribbon pies and smiled kindly at Lee. “Why don’t you wait outside for a minute? Let me look your lady over. Then the two of you can go home.”
Ellie watched Lee’s eyes darken as he scowled from Doc to her. With grim reluctance he finally nodded, then left the room when Doc deliberately walked him to the door. She heard his footsteps echo down the hall as Doc turned back to her.
“I’m going to have to turn on the light now. I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes to the blinding glare as he flipped the switch, then shut the door behind him.
The minute they were alone she asked the question that had haunted her since she’d come to on the examining table. “Did I…did I—”
“You fainted, kiddo,” Doc assured her as he lifted her limp wrist to check her pulse. His smile was gentle and indulgent. “You just fainted. Just like a blushing bride—or like someone who might be recovering from a seizure?” he suggested, then waited patiently while her silence confirmed his suspicion.
“Was it a bad one, Ellie?”
She started to shake her head. The pain slammed back full force. “No. No worse than usual.”
“Long?” he prompted as he wet a cloth with cold water, laid it gently over her eyes, then reached for a blood pressure cuff.
“Two…three minutes, close as I can figure. I…I was getting ready for my wedding. I…I thought I could recover. I thought I could put it behind me…get through the ceremony and…and no one would…know.”
Doc didn’t say a word. He just rhythmically pumped the bulb, then watched the gauge with a practiced eye. He didn’t have to say anything. He was thinking the same thing that she was. Physically it was the recovery time after a seizure that was the hardest to handle—at least it was for Ellie. The overwhelming fatigue, the unsettling sense of disorientation, the blinding headache took a toll. It had been beyond foolish to hope she could hide the residual effects from anyone. Foolish, but it hadn’t stopped her from wanting to be whole for her wedding day.
With an unrevealing look, Doc removed the cuff, folded it into its sleeve on the wall and reached for a thermometer.
He squinted behind his glasses, then inserted the thermometer gently in her ear. “Have you been feeling okay otherwise?”
“Yes,” she murmured, then restated, “Yes,” when he leveled her a pointed look.
“Taking your meds on schedule?”
She frowned, gave a small nod, then flinched when the thermometer beeped and he checked her temp. “I hate them.”
“I know.” With one hand on her shoulder and one on her back, he helped her to sit up. He warmed the stethoscope in his palm, waited for her to steady herself then listened to her chest sounds.
She remained quiet throughout the rest of examination, holding the cold cloth to her eyes, knowing what was coming, ashamed of the answers she must give him.
He helped her lay back down then turned to prepare the hypodermic needle.
“This is going to bite a bit now,” he soothed, swabbing alcohol on her arm. “Probably not as much as the bite your young man wanted to take out of my hide when I shooed him out of here.”
She swallowed, waited.
“Lee’s been gone from Sundown and Shiloh Ranch, oh, for quite a spell now, hasn’t he?”
She held a breath, let it out and anticipated the questions she knew would follow.
“He does know about your epilepsy, doesn’t he, Ellie?”
Another silence. “Sort of.”
“Ellie—”
“I know,” she preempted his gently scolding tone. “I know I should have talked to him. I know I should have let him know exactly what he was getting into. I…I just didn’t want it to be today. I wanted today. I…needed today.”
Doc set the syringe aside then covered the small puncture with a cotton ball and a strip of surgical tape. “He should know the details so he’ll know what to expect.” Folding her hand in his, he squeezed gently. “So he’ll know how to react.”
She couldn’t stop the tears then. “Why does this…have to be a part of me?” Years of hurt and anger and a self-pity that she rarely gave in to spilled out in a broken demand. “And why…why couldn’t I have had this one day without…without—”
“Sweetheart,” Doc smiled, his voice wise and commanding yet soft with affection. “It’s just one day. It’s just one bad day in a string of good days that you know how to take one at a time.”
“And I’ll be stronger for it,” she whispered with uncharacteristic bitterness.
“You are already strong. Stronger than anyone I know. And you’ll get past this. Just like you always get past it. You and your young man will have a wonderful life together.”
A wonderful life.
The words echoed, then drifted haphazardly around in her head until they tangled with everything that could get in the way of it becoming a reality.
Her reality was epilepsy. That alone was more than enough to get in the way of Doc’s prediction of a wonderful life. While her parents had done everything in their power to make it so, life, for Ellie, had never been wonderful. Life had been never knowing when or why a seizure would strike. Life had been home schooling to protect her from bold stares and whispering tongues, the cruelty of children who teased because they were afraid and didn’t understand. While it would have hurt her parents greatly if they had known, life had also been isolating—both emotionally and socially.
It had been knowing that medication could lessen but not eliminate the seizures that stole her control and left her vulnerable and dependent and eroded little pieces of her spirit and her pride.
And life, quite often, had not been hers to live.
Like now.
She had a vague awareness of the drug taking a slow, slippery grasp on the pain, then a moment of simmering anger that her control had once again been stolen from her. Then even the anger drifted away with her consciousness—isolating her once again.
And then she slept—without a single dream of happily-ever-after.
“How is she?” Lee demanded when Doc Lundstrum finally strolle
d out to the waiting room where he’d spent endless time flipping through magazines he hadn’t wanted to read, counting the worn gray tiles on the floor, then counting them all over again.
Old Doc just smiled. “She’s fine. She’s sleeping. It’s what she needs right now. Take her home, let her rest and she’ll be as good as new.”
“Is it always like this for her?”
Doc laid a hand on his shoulder. “No, son. It’s not always like this. You have to remember what she’s been up against lately. Her daddy is gone barely a month. And now she’s a wife. The excitement, the stress of being on her own, taking care of things…it took a toll. That’s all. She’ll be fine. You just let her rest now, and when she’s up to it she’ll tell you what she wants you to know.”
The Doc had kind eyes, but he was too damn tight-lipped to suit Lee. “I want you to tell me.”
Doc seemed to consider it, then shook his head. “It’s not my place.”
He couldn’t help it. He blurted out the question that had been lurking like a black cloud since he’d caught her limp and lifeless body in his arms at the alter. “Is she…is this…hell.” He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. “What’s it doing to her? Is it slowly killing her? Is she dying?”
“No,” Doc assured him with a quick smile. “No. She’s not dying.”
A relief so swift it damn near drove the air from his lungs burst through him. While he was still recovering, Doc cast him an assessing look.
“This is something she’s dealt with for a long time now, Lee. She’s better prepared to handle it than you are. That will change with time, but for today, she’s as humiliated as she is hurting. Both will pass, but she’ll need you to get to that point. So, just tread carefully with her, son.”
He ran a hand through his hair, still frustrated by all the unknowns, hating the thought of her in pain.
“Patience,” Doc dictated with a slow nod. “It’s what you both need right now. After you and Ellie have a talk, then you come back and see me and I’ll fill you in on what you still have questions about, okay?”