Read An Unexpected Love Online

Authors: Tracie Peterson,Judith Miller

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #General, #Religious, #ebook

An Unexpected Love (39 page)

“Two weeks? How can I possibly remain in bed with nothing to do for two weeks?” Sophie moaned.

Miss Barton wagged her finger. “No complaining, young lady. I completely concur with the doctor. If you want a healthy baby, you’ll do as he’s instructed.” She tipped her head close to Amanda’s ear. “We can count upon you to make certain she follows the doctor’s orders, can we not?”

“Yes. I’ll keep her in that bed if I have to stand guard over her. Or I’ll find some ropes down at the boathouse and tie her in.” Amanda smiled at her cousin.

A light tapping sounded at the door. Amanda hurried across the room and opened the door a mere slit. She glanced at Sophie and then at Blake. “Sophie’s father would like to see her.”

“Oh yes. Do let him come in.” Sophie pushed her palms against the mattress and attempted to inch herself into a sitting position.

Dr. Carstead shook his head. “Your father may come in for a brief visit, but no sitting up yet. After your visit, I want you to rest. Understand?”

Sophie didn’t appear totally convinced, but the doctor waited until he’d received an affirmative reply before permitting her father into the room. Blake then repeated the instructions to Uncle Quincy and bid Amanda to remain until the visit was complete.

“I’ll make certain she’s well settled and resting before I leave,” Amanda promised as she escorted Dr. Carstead and Miss Barton to the doorway.

Amanda stayed at a distance, observing Sophie with Uncle Quincy. Sophie had mentioned a conversation she’d had with her father after Wesley’s hasty departure, yet the obvious affection that had developed between the two of them caught her by surprise. When Uncle Quincy enveloped Sophie in an embrace, he appeared genuinely concerned.

He brushed a lock of damp hair from Sophie’s forehead. “I’m going to send a telegram to Paul. He can be here by tomorrow morning.”

“That’s not necessary. He’s needed at the Home, and you’re here. It’s not as though I don’t have family to look after me. Besides, Dr. Carstead says I’ll be fine with two weeks of bed rest. There’s no reason for Paul to come right away. He’s supposed to arrive next Friday.”

Her father frowned. “You know how much he loves you, Sophie. I doubt he would forgive me if I didn’t send word to him.”

“Then you may send him a telegram, but tell him I’m fine.” She grabbed his hand. “And tell him if he feels he must come, Monday will be soon enough, that I know he’s needed at the Home. Tell him I am well cared for and there’s—”

“I’m sending a telegram, not a letter,” he said with a chuckle. “I know Paul had special church services planned for Sunday at the Home, so I will tell him you want him to wait to come until Monday.”

“Well, he doesn’t
have
to come, but if he
wants
to come . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Perhaps I should figure out what to say and write it down for you.” She waved to Amanda. “Would you locate a pen and paper for me?”

“No. You need to rest. Your father is quite capable of choosing the proper words to advise your husband.”

Uncle Quincy grinned. “Thank you for your confidence, Amanda. Now if you two will excuse me, I’m off to send that telegram.” He glanced at his daughter then turned to Amanda. “I hope you have better luck getting her to obey than I did.”

Amanda laughed. “I have ways of dealing with patients. I’ve learned a great deal from Dr. Carstead. Sophie wouldn’t dare give me any trouble. Would you, Sophie, dear?”

Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It seems the odds are already against me. I suppose I have no say in the matter whatsoever.”

Amanda heard someone crying and knew that the only person it could be was Fanny. She opened the bedroom door without knocking and called to her cousin. “Fanny? May I come in?”

Fanny sat in shadows by the open window. She sniffed back tears. “Yes, of course.”

“What’s wrong? I heard you sobbing.” Amanda came to where Fanny sat and pulled up a chair to join her.

“It’s Sophie. I’m so worried about her. I couldn’t bear to lose another member of my family.”

“What are you talking about? She just needs bed rest—that’s all.”

Fanny met Amanda’s look of puzzlement. “She could die. My mother did.”

Amanda began to understand Fanny’s worry. “Oh, Fanny. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about how that might cause you fear.” She scooted her chair closer and put her arm around Fanny’s shoulder. “Sophie is strong. I remember hearing that your mother was quite small and not at all hardy in her constitution. You know Sophie— she could run circles around us and not even perspire.”

“But childbirth is so hard on women. Many women die for seemingly no reason,” Fanny protested. “And now Sophie is suffering pain and has to remain in bed.”

“Only for a short time. She’ll be fine. She just got too excited and overdid things. We need to be strong for her, Fanny. We’ll need to sit with her and keep her entertained; otherwise you know how things will be. She’ll want out of bed and argue with us about how bored she is.”

Fanny wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “I want to be strong and helpful to her. I’m sorry for my tears. I suppose sometimes old fears creep in to stir up worry.”

“It’s all right. Together we will be strong for Sophie, and for each other.” Amanda smiled. “Agreed?”

Fanny nodded. “Agreed.”

Sophie rolled to her left side and forced her eyes open. Her gaze settled upon a pair of navy blue pants. She rolled to her back, now fully awake. Paul sat beside her bed and smiled down at her.

“Good morning,” he said. He softly touched her cheek.

“When did you arrive? I told Father you didn’t need to come.” Sophie blinked away the cobwebs interfering with her thoughts. She’d lost all sense of time. “What day is it?”

“It’s Monday morning. I arrived on the early train, and Captain Visegar offered me a ride on the
New Island Wanderer.
Mr. Atwell didn’t know when I’d be arriving, so I accepted the captain’s offer. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling quite well. The pains have subsided, and I am weary of lying in this bed. But Amanda will brook no nonsense. Those are her words, not mine,” Sophie said with a faint smile.

“I’m pleased to hear that she’s making you follow the doctor’s orders. I spoke with Dr. Carstead last evening after he and your father returned to Rochester.”

She detected a hint of concern in Paul’s voice and wondered if Dr. Carstead had been completely frank with her. Surely he wouldn’t have given her false hope for the baby. “He said we would both be fine, didn’t he?” Paul wouldn’t lie to her. He was, after all, a man of God. If he affirmed the doctor’s report to her, she’d rest easy.

“If you follow his orders, he believes everything will be fine. He said it isn’t unusual to have difficulties such as you’ve experienced. He thinks you simply overdid things.”

She sighed and settled back against her pillows, thankful to have someone regale her with stories of the happenings in Rochester. In fact, she was even pleased to hear about Paul’s work at the Home, the special Sunday services, and his lengthy report on progress at the new addition—anything to help pass the time. When the maid arrived to tidy the room, Paul requested his meals be delivered to the room.

“You will soon be as bored as I am,” she said. “If only I enjoyed reading. I believe Amanda or Fanny would be content with a stack of books at their side.” She wrinkled her nose.

Paul jumped to his feet. “I’m going to move your bed so that you have a view of the river and a portion of the lawn. At least you will have something to see other than the walls of this room.” He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work. Bending forward, he lifted one end of the bed and grunted.

Sophie giggled. “It’s heavier than you thought, isn’t it?”

“It must be the heavy mattress, for my wife weighs no more than a feather.”

“Your wife grows larger by the day. If I’m required to stay in this bed, it won’t be long until you’re unable to move it.”

“I like to hear you refer to yourself as my wife,” he said, grasping the headboard. “There! I believe that will work. What do you think?”

“Thank you, Paul. This is
much
better. Look.” She pointed toward the window. “I can see the boats out on the water.” She clapped her hands. “What a smart man you are.”

He leaned down and placed a light kiss on her head. “At least I can do one thing to please you.”

She frowned but lowered her head so that he couldn’t see her. Was that how he felt in her presence? Did he constantly seek to find ways to earn her approval? Or—dare she say the word—love? Sophie pushed the thought aside as Paul was already gazing out the window and seemed to have given it no more thought. Unfortunately Sophie knew it would be on her mind for some time to come.

By midafternoon, Sophie’s spirits began to wane. She’d already tired of looking out the window and hearing Paul read to her. She’d dozed for a while, but when she awakened, she longed for something new to fill the hours. Paul suggested a visit from Amanda and Fanny, and Sophie agreed. He squeezed her hand and immediately jumped up to do her bidding. What had she done to deserve such a fine man, she wondered. Paul was everything a woman could desire in a husband. If only her heart would forget Wesley.

Her cousins arrived moments later, both of them looking grim. “The two of you need not look so gloomy. I haven’t died just yet.”

“That’s not humorous in the least,” Amanda snapped. “We have been terribly worried about you.”

“And the baby,” Fanny added. “Paul says you’ve had no pains since he arrived.”

“None. So I don’t see why I must remain abed. Couldn’t I at least try sitting in one of the chairs for a time? I would truly enjoy going out to sit on the veranda.”

“No, no, no.” Amanda sounded like a parent chastising a small child. “Must I resort to those ropes I mentioned to Dr. Carstead?”

Sophie giggled. “Attempting to free myself might prove a diversion. I don’t think I can possibly do this for two weeks.”

Mrs. Atwell entered the room carrying a tray. “Mr. Medford thought you ladies might enjoy tea.”

Sophie beamed. “Isn’t he the most thoughtful man?”

“He’s been terribly worried about you, especially because you’ve expressed your boredom. He fears you’ll get out of bed before the doctor grants permission,” Fanny said.

“I can’t help that I’m weary of this bed. It’s tiresome to be stuck away up here with nothing to occupy my time. Paul has read to me and played cards, but even that becomes wearisome after a time.”

Mrs. Atwell settled the tea tray on a table between Amanda and Fanny and poured three cups. She glanced over her shoulder at Sophie. “What about that babe you’re carrying, Miss Sophie? You could use this time to make some fine little clothes for the child, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes. That’s a wonderful idea,” Fanny said. “And we’ll help you. We can come to your room each afternoon. By the time the baby arrives, we should have a complete layette.”

Sophie wasn’t so certain. Once she was out of bed, she didn’t know how much sewing she’d care to do. After all, domestic duties weren’t something she had ever aspired to. However, having her cousins spend the afternoons with her during the next two weeks would help pass the time.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Mrs. Atwell. We can make a list and have Mr. Atwell pick up the items over in Clayton.”

The older woman agreed. “Why don’t you work on your list right now? Frank will be going to pick up supplies in the morning. He can purchase whatever you need at the same time.”

While they drank their tea, Amanda jotted several items on a piece of paper. Sophie waved a hand at her cousin. “I don’t plan to be in this room for more than two weeks. That list is becoming far too extensive.”

“We’ll continue on the layette after you’ve recovered. Instead of fishing when we go on our picnics, I’ll sew instead,” Fanny promised. “This is going to be great fun.”

Sophie agreed, though she wasn’t quite so sure. While her cousins were both adept with needle and thread, Sophie’s ability as a seamstress lay far below theirs. She pushed aside the thought and suggested Amanda add a yard of fine lace to the list.

“Here, let me help you,” Amanda said, taking the piece of soft cambric and examining Sophie’s stitches. “Your embroidery is knotting because your thread is much too long.”

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