by L. R. Olson
She didn’t move. Didn’t respond.
Terrified, I tore my gaze from her body and focused on her pale face. “Jules!”
“Y…yes,” she finally managed to get out, blinking her eyes wide in surprise. “She didn’t hit me. I don’t think.”
The relief I felt was immediate.
I allowed myself to look into her eyes just once, to cup the sides of her face and thank God nothing had happened to her. In that moment I wanted to pull her close, to hold her tight, to tell her how I truly felt about her. I didn’t have time.
I spun around, my heart hammering madly. I’d almost lost her. It wouldn’t happen again. I would do whatever it took to make sure Millie had her mother. I owed them that much. Claudine stood there with the pistol dangling from her fingers, staring at my chest with bemused concentration, as if she was trying to understand what had happened.
“Put the gun down,” I said. “We can walk away, no one has been hurt.”
“Damn you, Claudine,” Jean yelled out, racing toward his sister. “What were you thinking?”
“Stop!” she hissed, swinging her arms around to point the pistol at her brother. Jean stumbled to a halt a few feet from her. She would kill her brother as easily as she would kill Jules. She blamed him for our broken relationship. Jean’s stunned expression would have been amusing any other time. Did he honestly think she’d be loyal to him? He started toward her again.
“Don’t,” I hissed. “As much as I’d love to see you buried in the ground, we don’t need the hassle of explaining your death to the courts.”
He paused near me, his breath coming out in harsh pants. His unflinching gaze was pinned to his sister. A sister he was blindly devoted to. No more. The look of betrayal in his eyes was blatantly obvious.
“Julianna!” the constable called out, his face tight with worry as he knelt beside my wife. As much as I hated that he was touching her, I could admit to myself that I was grateful he would watch over her while I attempted to calm Claudine. Martyr that he was, I knew the constable would give his life for Jules.
Slowly, I got to my feet. The fall had made me oddly dizzy, or perhaps that was the fear coursing through my body, but I found myself stumbling as I stood. “Claudine, put the gun down.”
“No!” She shook her head as she stepped back. The frantic look in her gaze didn’t bode well. “If I can’t kill her, I’ll kill myself and you. We can be together, Jamie. Together, forever.”
“Damn it, Claudine!” Jean yelled out. “Put the gun down.”
She smiled. Her gaze contained the glassy look of madness that said she was no longer in control. “I’m sorry brother, but we have to die. Don’t you see? It’s the only way.”
She pointed the gun at me.
“No!” Julianna screamed. “Please, no!”
I could see from the corner of my eye that the constable held my wife close. He would protect her. Millie would have her mother. I braced myself for the shot. Before she could pull the trigger, Jean dove toward her. It all happened within a blink. They fell back, hitting the ground hard. The pistol flew from Claudine’s hands, skidding across the ice.
“The gun!” The constable raced toward the weapon. “Got it!”
If I’d had a lick of sense I would have picked up Julianna and left them to their fight. Damn it all, Jean needed my help. I raced forward. Despite the cold weather, sweat covered my body and my limbs were suddenly weak. What was wrong with me?
I made it only a few steps when my legs buckled and I fell to my knees. “Damnation!”
My body was no longer my own. I cursed my sudden weakness and forced my knees to lock. I knew exactly what Claudine could be like when she was determined. I’d felt the sting of her nails upon my skin, the kick of her toes, heard her shrill scream in my ears one too many times. Her insanity gave her strength. I raced forward, the wind tugging me precariously close to the edge of the cliff.
Jean had managed to pin her to the ground. She arched up, kicking him off. He stumbled toward the cliff’s edge. The waves roared below. If either of them fell, they would be lost forever.
“Jean!” Claudine, in a moment of consciousness, reached for her brother and pulled him back to safety. For a few seconds I saw a flash of sanity in her eyes as they clung together. This was the Claudine I’d first met. The caring, kind, sarcastic and smart woman I’d known in France. A sharp pain in my side pulled me up short, forcing me to pause and catch my breath.
“Come home,” Jean begged, gripping Claudine’s upper arms. He wanted so badly for his sister to be normal, to believe she could change. I was painfully aware of his heartache. “Give up this nonsense.”
His words did the opposite and just like that the madness returned, her gaze growing hard, brittle. “No!”
“Hell,” I muttered. This would never end. “Jean, get away from the damn cliff.”
She struggled in his arms and I surged toward the two, worried they’d topple to their deaths. As little care as I had for their lives, I didn’t need the attention their sudden demise would cause.
“Let go!” she screamed.
Jean released her. Claudine stepped back, too close. The edge of the cliff gave way. Pebbles crumbled to the water below. Claudine cried out and fell back. I caught sight of her flailing arms, her wide eyes, her shocked face right before she tumbled toward the sea.
“Claudine!” Jean fell to the ground and grabbed her hand just in time.
I slid toward the edge of the cliff, laying upon the icy ground a few feet from Jean. The sea was rough below, white-crested waves crashing to the cliff’s side. Jean held tightly to his sister’s right hand. Claudine’s skirts whipped around her legs in the wind, her body swinging back and forth like a pendulum. It was a long, long way down. Her pale face stared up at us, the fear in her eyes tugging at my conscience despite what she had done to me.
“Give me your other hand, Claudine,” I yelled down to her as I inched closer to Jean. “Let me help!”
She gritted her teeth and struggled to lift her left arm toward me. But the wind was harsh and tossed her about like clothing hung on a line to dry.
“Try again!” I yelled.
“No,” I heard Jean whisper beside me.
Confused, I dared to glance his way. He turned his head and looked directly into my eyes. Something shifted there, a knowing hardness that whispered through my body, a shiver of awareness that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I knew immediately what he planned.
“No.” I shook my head. “No!”
His jaw clenched in determination. I dared to scoot closer to the edge of the cliff and desperately reached for Claudine. Jean released her. Shocked, I lay there in mute horror as Claudine fell. It was as if the world slowed in that moment. I could see every detail, from her dark, surprised eyes, to the highlights of auburn in her black hair. Yet, I could only lay there and watch as she fell…fell…fell. She hit the water and a wave washed over her body, taking her under, deep within its churning depths. Just like that, she was gone.
“Dear God,” I muttered, turning my gaze toward Jean. He’d let her fall on purpose. His own sister. “You killed her.”
He stared at the waves below, his face as blank as his eyes. “I saved her from herself.”
“James!” Julianna was racing toward me.
She was the bright light in this dark, dark world.
Somehow, I managed to get to my feet and I met her halfway. She threw her arms around me with such force that I stumbled back a step. I was tired. So damn tired. The cold wind whipped around us, death hung heavy in the air. But none of it mattered because Julianna was here. Sighing, she slid her arms inside my jacket and rested the side of her face to my chest.
“I was so worried,” she whispered, her breath catching. “I…”
She paused, and for a moment I thought she was overcome with emotion. But no. She pulled back, a bemused look upon her face. Slowly, she lowered her gaze to my torso. I intended to question her odd behavior,
but suddenly my head throbbed, or perhaps it was my entire body. The world around me spun and I wanted to do nothing more than return to Julianna’s cottage and forget this blasted day.
“James,” she whispered, her voice quivering, her eyes going wide. “Dear god.”
“What is it, Jules?” I somehow managed to ask. My teeth were chattering. How very strange. “What’s wrong?”
Slowly, she lifted her hands.
Brilliant red blood coated her palms.
The edge of my vision went dark. “No!” I heard myself yell as I gripped her upper arms. “Tell me you’re not hurt. Tell me!”
“I’m not.” Her wide gaze went to me. “James…”
Her attention dropped to my belly.
“What?”
“It’s you, James.” She gripped the edges of my jacket and pushed the garment wide. Red blood stained the entire side of my linen shirt. “You were shot.”
****
Julianna
“James!” my frantic voice echoed across the hills, drowned out by the ocean. He stumbled. I jumped forward and slid my hand around his waist, giving him support. “James!”
His body was warm, but the blood was wet and chill from the cold air. Blood draining from his veins slowly…slowly. Frantic, I tried to tug at his shirt and decipher the severity of the wound. But as my fingers brushed his side, he flinched, stumbled, taking me back with him. Somehow I managed to keep us both upright.
“Shite,” he snapped, his voice strained. He was trying hard not to lean on me, but his knees were buckling and with every second that ticked by, he fell more heavily upon me. “I’m well. All will be well.”
No. It wouldn’t. But I didn’t dare dwell upon that thought. I needed to find the entrance to the wound, needed to stop the blood. “Help! Thomas, hurry!”
“What is it?” The constable raced to our side, his frantic gaze taking in Jamie’s wound. His normally stoic face went slightly pale. “Hell and damnation.”
I’d never heard him curse. He’d always been exceedingly polite. Horrified, I stood there covered in Jamie’s blood as the constable studied the wound, and I could do nothing…nothing but attempt to hold Jamie upright. Although Jamie was the one wounded, I felt ill. I couldn’t lose him. Not now…not for a long, long time.
“We need to get him back to the cottage,” Thomas said.
Jean appeared next to us. “If we move him it might lodge the bullet farther.”
Terror gripped at me and I found it hard to breathe.
Jamie’s face had gone pale, as if all the blood was draining the color from his body. His gaze found mine and held. There was a silent message there…within the dark depths. A goodbye. An apology. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t like it. Damn him, he wasn’t going to abandon me. Not until we were both old and ready to go.
“We can’t leave him out here in the cold,” the constable said.
“But if we move him, it might make things worse,” Jean countered. “We need something to carry him on.”
“Enough!” While they were standing there trying to decide the best course of action, Jamie was losing his life. “We don’t have time to argue. To the cottage, now!”
“That’s my lass,” Jamie whispered near my ear. “You tell these idiots what to do.”
His jest brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t. “Stop, just stop. Keep quiet and save your strength.”
“Move aside, Julianna,” the constable insisted. “You aren’t strong enough to help him.”
Reluctantly I moved. The constable slid his arm underneath Jamie’s shoulders. The movement had him cringing, a moan slipping from Jamie’s lips. The pain that flashed quickly across his face tore at my heart.
I gripped my bloody hands tightly in front of me. “You’re hurting him.”
“Julianna,” the constable gritted out, shuffling forward under Jamie’s weight. “We can’t help it. This will hurt and he’ll have to take it.”
I bit back my reply. He was only trying to help.
“Just a little way,” I said to Jamie, praying I’d ordered them to do the right thing. What if Jean was correct and the movement would wound him further?
Claudine’s brother took Jamie’s other arm. Together, they started down the lane. I raced after them, torn between wanting to remain by my husband’s side and wanting to run ahead to prepare. Jamie’s face had grown damp with sweat despite the cold weather. He barely looked conscious.
“Go, get hot water,” the constable said. “Bandages.”
I pulled my skirts to my knees and darted up the hill.
He couldn’t die. He wouldn’t dare.
I wouldn’t allow it. Tears burned my eyes, blurring the landscape before me, but I refused to pause even long enough to swipe them away. How could this happen when we’d just reunited? When everything was going so well? I tore open the front door of the cottage.
“What happened?” Mrs. Willow asked, stepping into the foyer, Millie in her arms.
“Jamie was shot,” I somehow managed. Brushing passed her, I raced into the kitchen and placed the kettle on the stove. Everything I touched left bloody prints. Jamie’s blood. “Bandages. We need bandages and hot water.”
“Oh dear lord,” Mrs. Willow whispered, cradling Millie close.
Millie who had only met her father. She couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t lose him. Where were they? I glanced back at the foyer. What was taking so long? I wrapped my arms around myself, attempting to stop the trembles.
“Yes. Bandages.” Mrs. Willow settled Millie into her basket. As if sensing something amiss, the baby began to squirm and whimper. She couldn’t lose her father, not after she had just found him. I couldn’t lose Jamie, not after I had just forgiven him. I wouldn’t let his stepmother destroy our lives. She would not win.
Mrs. Willow had grabbed one of my old petticoats that was in the clean laundry basket and began to rip it into strips of cloth while watching for them out the window of the kitchen. Waiting for the water to boil was torture. I paced across the room, the floorboards creaking. Every snap like gunfire. It was a small room with a stove and table and I found myself running into Mrs. Willow more than once.
Millie’s whimpers only reminded me of what we both had to lose. I moved toward her basket and rested my hand on her belly, needing to touch her. “Shhh, my love. All will be well.”
“They’re coming,” Mrs. Willow called out.
I raced into the foyer, my heart slamming erratically against my ribcage. He had to be alive. I tore open the door. Jamie’s head hung down, his chin to his chest so I couldn’t see his eyes. The entire side of his shirt was covered in blood. The room began to spin, the world off balance. Vaguely I was aware of Millie crying from her basket. Vaguely aware of Mrs. Willow’s gasp of shock at seeing the wound. None of it mattered at the moment. I needed to look into his eyes; needed to press my ear to his chest and hear his heart beating.
I held the door wide as they stumbled into the house, dragging in ice and mud upon their boots. “Up the stairs.”
When I heard the moan slip from Jamie’s lips as they hefted him up the first step, I almost dropped to my knees in relief. He was still alive. Hope remained. My legs felt weak, the world no longer real, yet somehow I managed to follow them up the stairs. Claudine and her madness could not win. She would not take Jamie to the afterlife with her, damn them all! He was mine. Mine.
They lay him gently upon the guest bed. Only a couple hours ago we’d been in that very bed, making love and making plans for a future together as a family. Gently, I started to take off Jamie’s jacket. “Did the bullet go through?”
“I’m not sure,” Thomas said, lifting Jamie so I could get the jacket and shirt free. His own clothing was covered in Jamie’s blood. How much could he lose before he succumbed? It looked like so much, so much.
Jamie groaned and I flinched. “I’ll be quick,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t respond, his eyes closed. His ent
ire torso was stained red, but I could see the puncture at his side, where the blood continued to bubble. Fear sent a cold chill straight to my soul. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. It all felt like a dark, endless nightmare.
“I’ll head to town,” Jean said. “Find the doctor.”
I waited until the man left. “I don’t trust her brother.”
“Neither do I,” Thomas admitted.
Mrs. Willow appeared in the doorway with the strips of linen as I was removing Jamie’s boots. She got one look at the bullet wound in his side, seeping blood, and went as pale as Jamie. With trembling fingers, she handed the linens to the constable. “I’ll just check on the water and Millie.”
“Jamie?” I whispered, settling on the edge of the bed. He didn’t respond. I dared to tear my gaze from his face and focus on Thomas. “Tell me he’ll be well?”
The constable sighed, handing the linens to me. “Bullet seems to have gone through, thank God for small favors. The wound isn’t the problem. It’s the loss of blood and chance of infection.” He shook his head. “We just don’t know.”
I held the linens close. The tears I’d been trying to hold back fell, trailing down my face and dripping to the bed. “Lift him?”
The constable did as was told. This time Jamie didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. It worried me even more. I would have preferred him wailing in pain than silent. Quickly, I wrapped his waist, covering the wound. The blood did quick work of soaking through the material.
“Hurry, Thomas. Go to town to search for the doctor.”
He nodded and headed toward the door. But on the threshold he paused, hesitating. “He is truly your husband?”
Any other moment I would have blushed in embarrassment for keeping the information from the man, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered but James. I didn’t want to hide our relationship any longer. “Yes. He is. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He shook his head. His own hands were covered in Jamie’s blood, his clothing stained red. He’d done so much for me, and he deserved better. “You tried to dissuade me. But I was persistent. It’s hard to let go of a lady like you.”