Page 38 of Always
Unfortunately, the linens and other woven items hadn’t fared as well. Mice and moth had chewed through many of the rugs, towels, and blankets that appeared to have once been of solid construction. Tableware and crocks were chipped. Pots and pans were rusted.
With some scrubbing, I was able to clean one pot enough to heat water to boiling. More than anything, I was thankful for the wild, overgrown remains of an herb garden with medicinal plants at full growth, some of which I recognized and could use in teas and decoctions.
Between caring for Emmeline and Felicia, I slept and ate little. As Felicia thrashed in her delirium and began to fade, desperation took residence in my heart. I sat long hours by her side, holding her in one arm and Emmeline in the other. Though I had done everything I could to save Felicia and everything I’d ever learned about caring for the sick, I could do no more.
My helplessness galled me. I was accustomed to success—to being the strong one, always protecting, always saving, always knowing what to do. Yet I now found myself in a strange new situation where all my efforts were for naught. Neither my soldier’s training nor my strength could save Felicia.
She shuddered in my arms, her body convulsing with chills.
I gently placed Emmeline into a nearby crate I’d lined with fresh leaves and grass. Then I pulled Felicia against me on my pallet in front of the hearth, cradling her, wanting to soothe her. I brushed a kiss against her hot forehead, wishing I could take her fever into my own body, wanting to suffer for her.
“God,” I whispered as I stared unseeingly at the glowing coals. “I haven’t wanted to rely upon anyone, have only leaned upon my own strength and determination. But I have nothing left. I can do no more.”
The admission brought the sting of heat to the back of my eyes. I’d tried to be strong enough for all of us, but in my own strength I’d failed.
My thoughts returned to my father, to something he’d said after one particularly hard day at the smelter. We’d had to stand helplessly by while another worker was blasted by an exploding furnace, covered in hot slag, and roasted alive beneath the bright-orange coating.
I’d been young and angry and questioned how my father could endure his own suffering in addition to watching others suffer day after day. “How can you stand it?” I’d asked.
“I can’t stand in my own strength,” he’d replied. “We were never meant to live in our own strength alone.”
I knew now as I’d known then that my father depended upon God for strength and guidance in a way I never had. Was this what it took? Coming to the end of my own strength before I’d finally learn I needed more than what I had?
I buried my face in Felicia’s long hair.
Not only did I need God’s power to help me stand strong in the face of adversity, but I needed others too. I needed Felicia.
You have made apparent enough the fact that you need no one but yourself.Her words came back to taunt me.
“I was wrong,” I said against her ear. “I do need you.”
If she would but awaken and live, I vowed I’d show her my need for her.
“Please.” I wrapped her in my arms, praying my strength would flow through her. “Return to me.”
The ache in my chest had been swelling with each passing day, and now it pressed hard against my lungs and rib cage. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Felicia, of not having her in my life, of living here alone with only Emmeline.
I could no longer deny the truth. I loved Felicia. And I should have told her so the day she’d made her declaration to me. In fact, I should have told her the day I’d married her. Even more, I should have said the words when she’d awakened me with her kiss when I’d been fighting off death’s hold.
Sister Agnes had called it “true love’s kiss.” I didn’t know if such a kiss was somehow enchanted. More likely the kiss was a summoning, a beckoning, a pleading that resonated deep within the soul of the dying, urging that person to fight back and return to the arms of the one giving the kiss.
I leaned away from Felicia so I could see her face. Her dark lashes rested against pale cheeks. I’d do anything to see her beautiful green eyes one more time. If for no other reason, I needed to awaken her for a last moment to tell her I loved her. She deserved at least that.
With the swell of emotion rising into my throat, I bent and pressed my lips against hers. She didn’t move, and I didn’t expect her to. Nevertheless, I kissed her with the love I’d harbored but had been too afraid to acknowledge because I’d been too cowardly to admit my need for her.
At some point, the kiss deepened. I wasn’t sure when I realized she was responding, that her lips had melded to mine and that she was kissing me back with a fervor almost as desperate as mine.
As the awareness of her consciousness penetrated my haze, I broke the kiss. My breathing labored as I examined her.
“Do not stop,” she whispered before her lashes slowly rose. Though tired, her eyes were clear and tender. And utterly beautiful.
I ran my fingers over her face. Although she was flushed, I could sense a change in her body. Even if she was still listless, her shivering had ceased. I dropped my fingers to the pulse in her neck. Though it was weak, it was thudding steadier.
My throat constricted. She’d listened to me and had come back. I forced out the words I could no longer contain. “I love you.”
Her eyes widened. “You do not have to say it—”
“I have loved you since the first time you kissed me,” I admitted. “I was wrong not to tell you. And I was wrong not to act upon it. But if you stay with me, I’ll never again make that mistake.”
