She got to her feet, swaying dizzily. It was so cold! The temperature must have dropped. She managed to get two small logs on the fire before almost crawling back to the couch to fall into a deep, feverish sleep.
M
OLLY OPENED HER
eyes and gazed into Adam’s dark ones. “I didn’t hear you call,” her voice quavered.
He nodded his head, his black brows drawn together, as they were when he wore his grim face. Her eyes felt as though there were lead weights tied to the lids; to open them would take all the strength she possessed. Something deep in her mind told her he wasn’t angry because she didn’t answer the radio call. She drifted off to sleep again.
“Her fever is high,” Adam said irritably to Tim-Two. “I’m getting a doctor out here.”
Molly could hear his voice coming from a far distance. Loud and commanding, he talked on the radio, then in softer tones to Tim-Two; the doctor would come in the morning and for him to bring in more fuel for the stoves. She felt gentle hands lifting her. Two tablets had been placed in her mouth and she was commanded to drink by that soft, gentle voice she loved.
“I’ll be all—right,” she said weakly. Two weak tears started at the corner of her eyes. She shivered and unconsciously snuggled closer to him. “Please . . .”
“Please, what, Molly?”
“I’m so cold . . .”
A sudden feeling of comfort engulfed her as arms went around her and she was drawn close against him. The heat of his body burned into hers, enveloping her in delicious inertia. She heard him ask, in a queer, uneven tone, “Are you still cold?” She nodded weakly.
I’ll be all right,
she thought,
if I can sleep for a minute.
When she opened her feverish eyes again, she was in her own bed and a big man was sitting in the chair watching her. It seemed so odd to see a man in her room and before her eyes could focus she was gone again. She mumbled occasionally in her delirium and cried one time. Her father dried her tears.
Dad,
she sobbed,
where did you go?
Her hands were taken in his big ones.
“Sleep now,” he said softly.
Several hours later she awoke and appeared to be more coherent. She looked at Adam sitting in the chair beside her bed.
“How sick am I?” she asked hoarsely.
“You’ve got a good case of the flu.” He smoothed her hair back from her face.
“You’ll be cold sitting there, Adam. Are we having a blizzard?” She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
When she awoke again, she was lying in a cocoon of warmth. She felt drowsy and far away, but safe and warm. She reached out to bring the warmth closer to her and snuggled against it. Arms held her tightly. She felt oddly at peace and didn’t want to move out of this warm, hard nest. She lifted her head and looked at the man who held her. He bent his head, kissed her brow, and pulled her closer. The only sound Molly heard was the beat of his heart under her cheek, and his murmured words.
“Go to sleep.”
She slept fitfully the next hour, then fell into a deep sleep dreaming she was in Adam’s arms, kissing and being kissed in return. She awoke to find him sitting on the bed beside her.
“Hello,” he said, “who are you?”
“I don’t really know,” she said drowsily. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who held you in his arms last night. Remember?”
“I thought that was Adam.”
He laughed softly and gazed down at her tenderly. “Feeling better?”
“My bones ache and my head throbs like a drum,” she said weakly. She looked faintly puzzled; her memory returning in snatches. She realized she was in her nightdress. Embarrassment made weak tears come to her eyes.
“Don’t think about it, love.” Fingertips turned her head back and wiped away her tears.
She flushed under his gaze. “You didn’t get much sleep last night,” she said shakily.
“I slept fine. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts! The doctor will be here this morning. Go back to sleep. When I hear the plane, I’ll have to take the snowmobile down to the clearing to pick him up. You won’t be frightened if you wake up and I’m not here?”
She shook her head, her eyes already drooping. He sat there until she was asleep.
Molly slept off and on all that day. The doctor came and went, leaving medication for Adam to give her. He woke her regularly with the tablets and a glass of water, tenderly holding her up so she could drink. She heard Tim-Two come in and put fuel in her stove, and heard Adam talking in the kitchen. Adam cooked food on the range and from her room, she was able to hear him curse once in a while as well as smell what he was cooking.
Late in the evening she awoke, aware she needed to use the bathroom. She lay dreading to make the move. Finally she could wait no longer and got out of bed on trembling limbs and stood for a while holding onto the end of the bed until her fuzzy head cleared. She staggered to the bathroom and closed the door louder than usual in her anxiety to hurry. She was making her way back to the door while holding onto the wash basin when Adam knocked, then opened the door.
“Are you all right, love?” He picked her up in his arms and hurried her back to bed. Lowering her gently, he tucked the covers around her. She was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering.
He went to the kitchen and returned with a bundle that he thrust under the covers at her feet.
“Tim-Two and I have been heating stones on the range. I’ve wrapped them in a towel.” Kneeling down, he put his arms around her blanket-wrapped form and hugged her close, trying to warm her. Gradually her shaking ceased and he sat on the side of the bed.
“I’m making some broth. Tim-Two says you’ve got to drink it. He’s been worried about you. He’s keeping the house so warm he’s about to roast me out!” he said teasingly.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” she said in a weak and trembling voice.
“It’s about time for your medicine again and I must take your temperature. If it isn’t down by morning, the doctor is coming back.”
“No, Adam,” she protested, “I’m better now. It must have been terribly expensive to bring the doctor out here.”
“Expensive, be damned,” he fumed. “I’ll have him come five times a day if we need him.”
Tears brightened her eyes. She quickly closed her lids so he would not see. He squeezed her hand, kissed her brow, and went back to the kitchen.
Later he brought a warm wet cloth and washed her face and hands. Then to her amazement he turned her gently so he could brush her hair. A feeling of sheer pleasure passed through her sore and aching body. When he had finished to his satisfaction, he put an extra pillow under her head.
“Now, you’ve got to eat something.” He came back minutes later with a tray he had already prepared, set it on her nightstand, and handed her a mug of warm broth.
“Can you hold this?” he asked. “If not, I can hold it for you.”
She reached for the cup with shaky fingers. The broth was amazingly good. When she thought she had all she could hold, she extended the cup back to him, but he shook his head.
“All of it,” he commanded, and she obeyed.
When he left again and she settled down in the bed, her confused mind wouldn’t rest until she tried to analyze his unusual behavior toward her; his kindness and compassion, his willingness to minister to her. Could it be he felt sorry for her?
Oh, God,
she thought,
not that.
She didn’t want his pity.
It’s a brotherly feeling he has for me. That’s it. I’m his little sister again and I don’t want that either!
She could hear him swearing in the kitchen.
He’s all man,
she thought. Tim-Two came in the back door and Dog came padding into the bedroom. He laid his big head on the bed and little whimpers came from his throat. Molly reached out her hand and rubbed his head. Finally he stretched out on the floor and twitched his ears as if trying to understand why she was in bed this time of night.
Lulled to sleep by the murmur of voices and the warmth of the bed, Molly awakened when Adam came into the room carrying the transistor radio and the gaslamp. It was late. She thought she had only dozed.
“What time is it?”
“About midnight. I’ve been waiting to give you your medicine.”
“I’m sorry you had to wait.”
“Don’t be. I’ve been listening to the radio. We’ve had a very big snowfall.” He put his arm under her and lifted her shoulders so she could drink. “How do you feel?”
“Better, I think.” Her voice was weak and she was shaking again. “But I get so cold.”
“We’ll remedy that.” He took off his robe and flung it over the chair.
Molly’s startled eyes took in the broad bare shoulders, the wide chest with dark hair going down to his pajama bottoms, the strong brown throat, and the muscled arms. He looked so different, so masculine, and . . . athletic. Her frightened eyes must have conveyed her feelings.
He laughed softly, turned out the gaslight, and lifted the cover as he slid into bed beside her.
“Don’t be frightened, love. I can feel your heart pounding like a little rabbit caught in a trap.”
He turned her so her back was toward him and wrapped himself around her spoon fashion, her head pillowed on his arm. He tucked the covers around them and enfolded her in his arms.
“Isn’t this better than being alone?” he whispered in her ear. Then teasingly, “I’m not going to seduce you, kitten. I’ll wait until you’re spitting and scratching!”
It was difficult for Molly to think coherently. The nearness of the warm body pressing against hers with nothing between them but the thin material of her nightdress and his pajama pants was both comforting and disturbing. Questions lay like a coiled snake inside of her, the residue of past hurts. Then uncaring for anything but the moment, she relaxed against him conscious of the rhythmic thumping of his heart against her back.
His probing fingers smoothed the hair from around her ear. His lips nuzzled her neck. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you for your medicine.”
Her hand moved to his and her fingers interlaced with his fingers. She knew no more, drifting deeply into her first natural sleep of several days.
She lay motionless, her body aching, but aware she was alone in the bed. She shifted her position and opened her mouth to call, but the words didn’t come. Was she alone? Had she dreamed someone was with her? Weak tears ran down her cheeks. Then he appeared in the door, flashlight in one hand and a glass in the other. Relief flooded over her.
“Time for this stuff again,” he said when he saw she was awake. “I’ve put more fuel on the fire, I think it’s getting colder.”
When he put out his light and got into bed beside her, he lay on his back and cuddled her against his side. Feeling the wetness of her cheek where it lay on his shoulder, he tilted her face and kissed her tearstained eyes.
“What’s the matter? Head aching again?”
She said nothing, but stretched her arm across his bare chest and pressed closer to him.
“Want me to rub your back?”
“You don’t need to.”
“But I want to,” he persisted, and rolled her so she lay almost on top of him. His hand went up and down her back, rubbing and massaging the sore muscles. It felt so good! Being so intimately close to him was wonderful. A small sigh escaped her. He chuckled softly and kissed her forehead.
“Having a husband isn’t all bad, is it, love? Go to sleep. It’ll be morning soon.”
The next morning the ground was covered with deep new snow. The day began when Adam came into her room and sat down on the side of the bed. Laying his hand on her forehead, then his palm to her cheek, he pronounced her fever broken and said the doctor would not have to come back out after all.
Molly, a little fuzzy in the head from the fever and the medication Adam had given her the night before, lay motionless. She was too weak to do anything else.
“Hungry?”
She nodded.
“Good,” he said. “You’re going to have breakfast.”
He was no sooner out the door than Molly reached for the comb on her nightstand and flicked it through her hair, and then, making sure Adam was still in the kitchen, reached for the cold cream jar, and quickly dug her fingers into the cream and smeared it on her face. Seconds later she had wiped it off on a tissue that she concealed beneath her pillow.
Adam didn’t knock at the door. He came into the room as if it was his own. He carried a small round tray with a bowl of something steaming on it. He put the tray on the nightstand and sat down on the bed again.
He smiled. It was a beautiful smile and it wrung Molly’s heart.
“Good morning!” he said as if he hadn’t seen her minutes before.
“Good morning.” The intimacy of last night was making her self-conscious and she hesitated to meet his eyes.
He leaned forward and put his hands on either side of her pillow and, resting on them, looked down at her face. Quickly he bent forward and kissed her on the lips. It wasn’t a loving kiss; it was a kiss, however, and Molly loved it. When he lifted his head, she wished he would do it again. Her dark-lashed violet eyes looked into his dark ones.
“You smell nice,” he said thoughtfully. “It must be the cold cream.” His eyes flicked over her face, taking in everything. “And you’ve combed your hair,” he added.
Molly flushed and looked away from him. Even if he noticed, why did he have to mention it? He was smiling and the only thing she could do was to smile back.
“I’ve made oatmeal,” he announced.
Once again he leaned forward and once again he kissed her . . . very gently.
He stood and placed the tray on her lap. “Eat,” he commanded, and went out.
Molly didn’t realize how much better she felt until after she had eaten. The meal had been simple, but delicious; cooked oatmeal with a generous sprinkling of brown sugar, buttered toast, and hot cocoa. She wondered when Adam had learned to cook. She must remember to ask him. Moving the empty tray from her lap to the nearby chair she slid out of bed and looked around for her robe. Her eyes fell on the neatly folded clothes she had worn the day she became ill. An unexpected thrill passed through her at the thought of Adam undressing her. The nightdress he had chosen for her that night was flannel and revealed little, but nonetheless, he had seen all of her. A helpless feeling of discomfiture came over her. She found her robe and wrapped it tightly around her.