“Doctor Shamar,” she cried, closing the distance between them. “You must be exhausted. How ever do you keep the pace?”
“I have my nurse and people like you who sit with my patients.” He walked toward the bed. “Any improvement?”
“Not that I see. I’ve talked myself senseless, but there’s no response. I am worried that he won’t wake up.”
“Here, I thought you were worried he would, and you’d be the next Mrs. Frost.”
“Oh no! I won’t break my sister’s heart. I’ve so much to repent over.”
Frances’s voice sounded from the doorway. “If I hadn’t heard it with my own lips, I’d never have believed those words came from your mouth.”
“Ladies, just me give ten minutes with Michael and you can both set up vigil for a few hours – I’m ready for a nap.”
“How is the young Benderson girl?” Tariana asked.
“Not good I’m afraid. Her fever isn’t breaking, and I’ve ordered the family to stay home in case someone else comes down with it. We don’t need a deadly plague on our hands.”
“But you’ve been there, and now you’re here…with Michael.” A look of horror descended on Frances.
“I am the doctor, and know hygiene practices, my dear. I washed my hands so many times with soap I’m sure they’ll glisten in tomorrow’s sun.”
“But…” Frances stammered.
Tariana laid a hand on her sister’s arm. “I’m sure the doctor knows what he’s doing, Frances. Let’s not let fear grab hold.”
While they talked, the doctor checked under the bandages on Michael’s leg, and he and the nurse replaced them with clean strips. They examined his head, casting wary glances at each other before plastering a creamy ointment across the swollen part, and wrapping it anew.
The nurse left the room, and Doctor Shamar repacked his medical traveling bag. “I wish the man would wake up. Please continue to try. I glean hope in the fact that he was awake once, and that he will come back to us. I am not an expert on the inner workings of the head and the role it plays in one’s recovery. If he doesn’t awaken soon, I’ll correspond with a specialist in Astoria to see if he can shine some light on the case. Meanwhile,” he leveled his gaze at Frances, “we need to be patient and understanding. If he does awaken with his memory intact, be thankful, but if it helps your squabble any, Michael’s last memory before the accident was with Tariana. Perhaps that’s what caused the initial confusion.”
Frances turned to her sister with tears in her eyes. “I was so quick to judge you, Tariana. My heart is such a muddle.”
“Let’s not worry about us now. We have Michael to be concerned about,” Tariana said, knowing she was taking the coward’s way out.
The girls settled into chairs on each side of the bed, and both held one of Michael’s hands. Frances talked of the dinner that had been overdone and not up to Mother’s standards and of the progress made today in the July fourth church event. They talked of a possible epidemic and the horror of it all. They talked on and on until the sun set, and Michael’s parents returned to take up the vigil.
The girls walked home in silence, their civil attitude toward each other boring a deep hole in Tariana’s guilty conscience. She decided she would continue to fast and spend the night in prayer; for Michael, Frances, and the whole messy game she’d played with their lives that sat like a keg of dynamite ready to explode in all of their faces.
The next day, the watch began again. Tariana felt it her responsibility to take her turn with Michael at the same time as Frances. If he awoke, he’d see them both, and that would surely put his memory back in order. Tariana stared in silence at the man who had filled her dreams for so long. She felt the inevitable separation as mercilessly as if someone had torn a limb from her body, certain that a part of her would never recover. Did one ever forget their first love, even if the feelings were never returned?
She supposed she’d find out.
The thing she feared the most was losing her sister – Frances: the one she’d formerly wished, as a young child, would drown in the river, and of late, simply leave the house and never come back. Self-examination had the power to provide enlightenment or destruction, and she knew the choice she would make that day. On the other side of condemnation was freedom. Tariana would somehow make it right with Frances, come clean, and perhaps risk losing this one day of peace they’d shared. The Lord expected full restitution for sin, not because He hadn’t forgiven her obsession, but because she hadn’t forgiven herself, and living a lie was no longer an option. Confession and forgiveness were not simply about setting oneself free to move on, but others caught in the trap as well. She could only trust that His plan would not tear the Gracin family apart.
When Michael’s hand flinched, and he began to stir, both women jumped to their feet with renewed excitement, their eyes glued to the man on the bed. He groaned and felt his head before slowly squeezing his lids open. The sun shone in his face, and Tariana rushed to the window to close the curtain. The light dimmed, and Michael relaxed somewhat.
Michael sighed. “That’s better.”
“We should call for the nurse,” Frances said.
Michael examined her with puckered brow, but when his face shifted to Tariana’s, he smiled. Her heart plummeted. He didn’t remember and her sins were about to be announced to the world by his rejection of Frances. Her sister would be heartbroken and there’d be no mending the gulf between them.
Michael resembled the innocence of a newborn, oblivious to the anguish that filled the room. “Thank you, girls for sitting with me. Listening to your chatter felt strange, like an echo in a cave and try as I might, I couldn’t reach you.”
“We’re glad you’re awake,” Frances said. “How are you feeling?”
“My head is pounding.” He turned to Tariana. “Last I recall is you and I standing on the ship’s deck, and then it all went blank.”
“You tripped over a pile of boards and managed to find the only section of railing under repair. You tumbled over the rope barrier and into the water. Jamie Sackerton was close by, and he pulled you out. Otherwise, you’d be at the bottom of the river.”
“You must thank him for me,” Michael said. “I have much living left to do.”
Why, oh why, did he stare at her so intimately? Frances was near to tears, watching her beau’s weak efforts at flirting with Tariana. She needed to end this nightmare, and sooner, rather than later.
Tariana returned to his bedside and said, “Michael, who do you think I am?”
He chuckled, followed by a cough, and both girls fussed over him until he regained his breath.
“Perhaps this should wait, Tariana,” Frances said, casting her sister a warning glance.
“What should wait?” Michael asked as he placed his glass of water back on the table. “I’m feeling fine. Just a bit of a cough.”
“I think it needs to be confronted, not shielded. Heaven knows that indulging a lie will lead us all down a darker road of destruction.”
“Now, I’m curious,” Michael said. He clutched Tariana’s hand with a fierceness crying of desperation.
Tariana noticed tears pooling in her sister’s eyes, who dabbed at the corners and nodded her approval.
She inhaled deeply before turning her attention back to the confused man. “Michael,” Tariana said, “once again I ask, who do you think I am?”
“What kind of question is that for a woman to ask of her betrothed? You are Tariana Gracin, the preacher’s daughter and the one who has claimed my heart.”
She suppressed a groan. How she’d longed to hear those words. Now, they sounded hollow and only managed to grieve her soul.
“Michael, you’ve had an injury to your head. I can only guess why this one detail would go amiss in your mind while others would stay true. Before your accident, we discussed the honeymoon – do you recall?”
“The boat ride,” he said with excitement. “You seemed very excited.”
�
�I was excited…for you and Frances.”
His confusion shifted to the woman who sat silently on the other side of the bed. “Frances: your sister?”
“Yes, and the woman who has the rightful claim to your heart.” She felt a flood of relief after the words had been spoken aloud. Was God waiting for her to confess so he could wash the pain of her coveting clean? If the circumstance wasn’t so volatile, she might wish to celebrate such a freedom.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered.
Frances remained speechless, so Tariana voiced the rest in fear of alienating them from ever forgiving her past actions.
“Perhaps the confusion lies in another part of our conversation. Perhaps because it was one of your last thoughts, your wounded mind has decided it was the truth.” Tariana sighed. “The doctor might be able to shed light on the medical aspect.”
Tariana stared at Michael and Frances’s faces as they waited expectantly for some light to penetrate the darkness that had enveloped them. “We were talking of my coming out next year. Of the young man that would win my heart. I told you, Michael, that you were the one meant for me. That we belonged together.”
Frances gasped.
“But I was wrong, and you pointed that out to me. Frances was the perfect match for you, and I would find a match of my own.” She hurried to finish before her sister threw her out. “It was just a couple lines of frivolous speech between us, but maybe it stuck in your head, and that is the reason for your confusion.” Tariana got to her feet.
“Now that you know what a wretched soul I am, I beg both of you to forgive me. I was a spiteful child who did not get her way and lashed out mercilessly. The Lord and I have come to terms with my trespass, and I pray you will not hold it against me forever.”
Unable to say another word, Tariana hurried toward the door and left the room. Michael and Frances would need to figure out the rest. Either that, or dream a new dream. She prayed the couple would make it through this crisis. Restitution for her part had been paid, and she wouldn’t interfere in their relationship a moment longer.
Chapter 7
Tariana spent mornings in her bedroom for the rest of the week, and afternoons at the church to finish decorating for the upcoming event. Jamie avoided her when they happened to meet, and the separation from him tore at her heart worse than Michael ever had. She and Jamie had been friends and allies as far back as she could remember, but now that he’d seen her true colors in action, she feared he would be done with her nonsense. He’d do well to steer clear of such a deceitful woman. He deserved better, while she merited all the shunning folks could dish out.
Michael should not have extended the invitation for her to tour the ship, and she should never have accepted, especially after her trick to sour Frances’s stomach just to spend some time alone with him. Especially knowing that evil still lurked in her heart. The only thing providing her a sense of hope was that she’d been washed clean, forgiven, and set on the right path, and that sat well with her soul. Hopefully, she’d regain the respect of the ones she’d hurt, but until then, she would remain in the background as best she could.
When she arrived at the fishing hole by the river, she noticed that Jamie had left her rod by the tree. She ran her fingers down the pole, reminiscing about their childhood adventures, but the urge to cast a line had deserted her. None of it would be any fun without Jamie. The wooden target he’d crafted and the bow and arrow he’d bought last year for her birthday was also left leaning against the tree. They served as another reminder that her madness had cost her his respect. He’d brought both items there for her use, but he failed to show his face. Something within her shriveled and died, and she had no idea how to get it back.
She sat on a rock and dangled her feet in the water. An hour later, Jamie still had not joined her. Tariana felt certain he wasn’t about to come, and just as certain that she’d lost her best friend.
On Sunday, Tariana pleaded a headache, but her father refused to indulge her pitiful excuse. “Daughter, the family realizes you have repented and are finding your way back, but if you put off facing the public today, it will be twice as hard next week. You can busy yourself at the serving table or with the children’s games, but you must go.”
“Yes, Father.” There was no sense in begging. His mind was made up.
He stroked her face gently with his hand. “You are a spit-fire that the Lord will use mightily some day. Stay true to building a godly character and moving forward. Don’t get stuck in this hard place.”
Tariana smiled and wrapped the rare personal interaction around her needy soul. He did not often speak compliments to avoid filling one’s head with vanity. She had gathered affirmation from his insightful words, and mock saluted, grinning playfully. “Forward ahead, sir,” she said. “I’ll go upstairs and get ready.”
“Wear that nice dress you had on the other day. Is it new?”
“Yes,” she said, surprised he’d noticed.
“The color makes your eyes dance. Surely, your young man will notice that.”
“What young man?’ she asked, horrified. The only one he knew of was Michael, who was not hers at all.
“Your old man is not blind, daughter. He’s been your man your entire life. You just never knew it.”
“I still don’t know it, Father. Of whom do you speak?” Tariana asked.
He laughed. “When you spot true love, your eyes will be opened.” He turned to his wife and pecked a kiss on her on her cheek. “See you all at church.”
When he’d gone, Tariana begged her mother. “Do you know to whom he referred? It would save me from getting into trouble again if I knew, even though I doubt there will be too many men wanting a devious woman by their side until death-do-us-part.”
Ada Gracin laughed. “Ex-devious. And my lips are sealed. Discovering love is half the fun, and I won’t take that from you, Tariana. Now run and get ready. This is the Lord’s Day and America’s celebration of independence. There is so much to be grateful for.”
On the way upstairs, she focused on the most recent names recorded on her thanksgiving list. Michael was on his feet, walking with a cane, his memory having returned fully, and Frances was once again the center of his world. Tariana pondered the invitation Michael had given her to come and visit him, but she’d chosen to stay away, shame shredding her pride one layer at a time. He’d be at the celebration today, with Frances by his side, just as it should be. And Tariana would be there alone, searching for the love that had escaped her for her entire life. She’d known everyone since birth, which would make the search more difficult, but she was in no hurry.
Tariana sighed, glad it would be close to a year before any of it mattered. The dust on this blunder would have surely settled by then.
She fussed with her appearance to honor her father. He’d liked the dress, and he preferred her hair pulled back with only tiny ringlets hanging down at the back. A parasol and matching bag completed her outfit, and she headed downstairs to join the family before they left for church.
Frances was the first one ready, for once, and she had gone on ahead to walk with Michael. Tariana felt relieved. They hadn’t dealt with the awkwardness between them, and she was pleased not having to face it that morning.
Cherise, Samantha, and Evelyn attempted to drag her into their silly chatter as they walked. When their voices lifted in songs of praise, the words connected with Tariana’s soul.
“My sins are all forgiven and I’m on my way to heaven – Praise His Name.” The three girls were gifted with wonderful harmony and often ministered in the church to an appreciative congregation.
“Won’t you join in with your sisters, Tariana? God loves a cheery heart,” Ada said.
“My voice would hurt His ears. He has not blessed my vocals.”
“We are gifted differently, but He loves all praise equally. Music lifts your mood, and yours could use some lifting. I want you to enjoy your day, not simply endure it.”
“Don’
t worry, Mother. My insides are filled with gratefulness and joy. Michael is improving, Frances is back in her rightful place, and I am a new person. What I’d feared as unrepairable damage to my heart was merely infatuation, a foolish and misguided desire.”
“See Mother, the caterpillar is ready to break out of her cocoon and venture forth as a beautiful butterfly,” Cherise said.
“Save your drama for the children, or, better yet, the theater,” Tariana said, grinning at her sister affectionately.
Cherise wrapped her arm through Tariana’s. “My best friend and sister. I have nothing to preoccupy me today, and I would love to spend the entire time making you laugh while stuffing ourselves with food until we burst.”
“Gluttony is also a sin,” Mother reminded.
The four girls giggled, knowing Ada Gracin possessed a huge appetite and rarely refused anything on the table. And that day, the long tables would be stacked full of delicious food.
With uplifted spirits, the other two girls fell into step and erupted in song again. This time, Tariana joined in, surprised that her voice did not spoil the melody. She took pleasure in the fact that God’s ears might be tickled instead of aggravated.
Tariana need not have concerned herself, for all the people gathering at the little white church came joyfully distracted, without a word or whisper of gossip to spoil the atmosphere. Her father gave a historic summary as to the birth of American Independence, reaching as far back as 1776. Ten years before, the July 4th had been declared a federal holiday, a symbol of patriotism worth celebrating. The sermon followed with the theme of giving thanks, and a happy congregation followed Reverend Gracin out the back door while singing the closing hymn. Everyone gathered around the flag pole, placing their hands over their hearts. Voices raised, filling the air with the words to the “Star-Spangled Banner.” A healthy air of pride continued to flow through the crowd when the “Pledge of Allegiance” was recited. Even the young knew the words that united the country with a common passion.
Obsessed in Oregon (Yours Truly: The Lovelorn Book 8) Page 5