Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (12 page)

Marcail couldn't answer. Every part of her body was
beginning to go numb, and all she could do was shake
her head.

"Let's get you to the house," Alex said, more to himself than anyone else. As he moved to hang the lantern,
he heard Marcail's softly spoken "No."

Alex turned back and stared at her.

"I'll just stay here until I get warmer," the young schoolteacher stuttered as she rubbed furiously at her arms.

Knowing that now was not the time for discussion,
Alex did not hesitate for a moment. He hung the lantern,
blew it out, and moved toward Marcail. She couldn't see
him approach, so she jumped as a hand touched her in
the darkness.

"Put this on," Alex was saying, and Marcail felt a coat
surround her.

Before Marcail even had time to enjoy the warmth of
the coat, the barn door was thrown open. She let out a
small scream when she was suddenly tossed over the
doctor's shoulder. Marcail had no time to comment on
her position, since Alex was already moving swiftly
through the blizzard toward the house.

"No" was the emphatic reply. "I'll be dry in a little
while."

Staring at the tiny woman before him who was shivering from head to toe, Alex pulled to the fore what was
certain to be the last of his patience.

"You can't stay in that dress," Alex said for the fifth
time. "It's wet and you're freezing. Now please go and
change into the nightgown I've laid out for you, because
if you don't take yourself out of those wet things, Miss
Donovan, I'll do it for you."

"You can't treat me this way. I'm a grown woman."

"Then act like one," Alex snapped.

Marcail stood mute with embarrassment. Alex's jaw
tensed, and a moment later he had his guest by the arm
and was leading her to the bedroom. Once inside, he
pulled her sweater off before she had time to think. He
then spun her around and unbuttoned the back of her
dress. Marcail gasped in surprise, but was given no time
to respond before she was spun once again, this time to
face the doctor, her eyes so big they nearly swallowed her
face.

"You will remove everything you are wearing," Alex
held Marcail's shoulders, his head bent close to her face,
his voice unrelenting, "and put on the nightgown. You
will then come back out to the kitchen and sit by the fire.
It's the only way you're going to get warm."

Alex's face and manner softened slightly as he felt her
tremble under his hands, but he exited the bedroom and
shut the door before she had time to notice.

Marcail stood alone in the bedroom, so angry and
humiliated that she wanted to weep. She told herself that
he was overbearing and rude. She also told herself that
he was right; she was freezing.

Shame nearly overwhelmed her as she pulled the bodice of her dress down and remembered his unbuttoning the back. It took some minutes, but eventually
Marcail had a pile of damp clothes on the floor and a
white flannel nightgown in her hands. She was trembling so violently that she could barely lift it over her
head. Once she did, she found herself enveloped in
cloth. The nightgown was huge on her slight frame.

"Miss Donovan," Alex's voice called through the door.

"Yes?"

"Are you dressed?"

Marcail's answer was to open the door. Alex barely
glanced at her attire before he placed a hand on her back
and led her to the large upholstered chair that he'd
drawn up in front of the stove. Before he gave Marcail a
small push into the chair he wrapped her in a thick quilt.

In her frozen misery, Marcail was unaware of the way
Alex retrieved her clothing, hung it to dry, and then
fetched a mug and the pot from the stove.

"We have to get you warm, Miss Donovan" was all she
heard before Alex bent over her with a steaming cup. He
placed it against her mouth with one order.

"Drink."

Marcail did so, only to bury her face in the quilt a
moment later in an attempt to evade the cup, as well as
breathe past the acrid taste in her throat. He had given
her the strongest coffee she'd ever tasted.

Alex tried to get her to drink more of the thick liquid,
knowing how quickly it would warm her, but the sound
of her small, choked voice begging him to stop was too
much for him. He put the cup aside.

After Alex reached to put the mug on the table, he
then shifted Marcail in the chair, moving her as though
she were a doll so he would be certain every part of her
was warm. He made sure her arms and shoulders were
tucked into the quilt and then tugged one corner of the quilt up over her head until only her face showed. He
pulled another chair close, sat down to face her, placed
her feet in his lap, and wrapped yet another quilt around
them.

Marcail looked at him through eyes that were beginning to blur, wishing he would go away. Her last thought
before her body began to warm and sleep came to claim
her was that this couldn't really be happening to her.

Alex wouldn't have believed that anyone could be
sleeping as soundly as Marcail. She had fallen asleep
over an hour ago and not moved a muscle, not even
when he carried her to his bed and tucked her in. He
assumed she would awaken before he was ready to go to
bed himself, but she never stirred, not even when he
banged around in the kitchen fixing some supper. He
found himself checking her often to assure himself she
was okay, but her breathing was regular and her pulse
normal, so he had to assume that she was exhausted.

The snow was still falling steadily as Alex tried to
make himself comfortable on the sofa in the living room.
This was no easy task since the sofa was nearly a foot
shorter than his 5' 10" frame.

He was covered with a warm quilt as he turned the
lantern low and settled back to think on the events of the
evening. Alex wondered if he would ever forget the way
Marcail looked when she defied him about changing her
clothes, or how small she had felt under his hands as
he'd tucked the quilt about her.

A sudden feeling of dread overcame him. Alex wondered if Marcail would have any idea how a situation like
this would be viewed by the town of Willits. He began to pray that God would uphold them both in the days to
come, and that the townspeople, specifically Mrs. Duckworth, would be reasonable.

Marcail woke up and stretched luxuriously in the large
bed. The smell of coffee assailed her senses, and for just
an instant she smiled. A second later she sat up with a
start and stared through the dim light at the strange
dresser across the room from her and then at the bed in
which she slept. Marcail's heart began to beat so hard she
felt breathless. The bedroom door was open, and, moving very slowly, she walked to that door and looked at
the man sitting at the kitchen table.

Alex, fully dressed for the day, looked up from his
Bible to find his houseguest standing in the bedroom
doorway, clutching the front of her nightgown.

"What time is it?"

'About 6:30."

"In the morning?" Marcail whispered.

Alex looked at her with tender compassion and rose to
retrieve her clothing. "These were by the stove all night,
so they're dry now."

Marcail took her clothes and thanked him, her voice
stilted.

"I'll fix some breakfast whenever you're ready."

Again Marcail thanked him and stood staring at nothing, trying to come to grips with the fact that she'd spent
the night at the doctor's house.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"First of all you were so exhausted and sleeping so
hard, I'm not sure I could have awakened you. And
second, it was still snowing, so I didn't see any point."

Marcail didn't look to the window until he mentioned the snow. Alex watched as she moved slowly toward the
window by the door and looked out. A white blanket
stretched for as far as her eyes could see, and snow was
still coming down. Strangely enough, the sight gave her
comfort. The doctor had been given no choice, and Marcail's fear of her situation, if not the doctor, lessened to
some degree.

She turned from the window, thanked Alex for drying
her clothes, went into the bedroom, and shut the door.
Her voice told him she was coming to accept the situation. Alex stood for a few moments outside the door,
thinking as he did that Marcail didn't have an inkling of
how the folks in town would react if they ever found out
what had happened.

"What will you do if someone needs you in town?"
Marcail asked from her place in front of the dishpan,
relieved over having something to do.

Alex picked up a plate and started to dry. "If the bell
rings, I'll try to get through."

"The bell?"

"Yes. Since I don't live in town, I have a bell outside of
my office so people can call me here at home."

Light suddenly dawned for Marcail. "I've heard that
bell at times and wondered what it was."

Alex didn't answer. He was too busy smiling over how
long she was taking to wash a few dishes. She'd been
extremely nervous at breakfast and had hardly eaten a
bite. This surprised him because he knew she'd missed
supper. He remembered then how wary she was of him,
and found himself wishing he'd get called into town so
he could leave her in peace.

"Will you take me home if you get called into town?"

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but
Alex had an answer. "I really doubt I'll be called."

"But if you are?" Marcail pressed him.

Alex didn't even hesitate. "No, it's too risky."

Marcail began to gnaw on her lower lip. Alex had seen
her do this several times at the breakfast table when the
silence between them had lengthened.

When Marcail was finished with the dishes, she turned
to Alex with her hands clasped nervously in front of her.
'All done," she said, stating the obvious.

"Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Sure," Alex began, and Marcail missed the sparkle in
his eyes. "I have several shirts that need to be mended
and washed, and the bedroom needs dusting."