Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) (16 page)

Faith hurried to his side and moved the light over his body, hovering it close enough to see if anything appeared broken.  Starting at his head she checked for cuts and bruises.  Nothing seemed out of place, except for the color of his skin.  Pale and clammy, he had never looked so deathly gray.

She continued moving the lamp further down his torso.  Light illuminated his hips.  Her eyes widened, and her breath caught.  She struggled to swallow.  Deep in her throat, her pulse beat so strongly it threatened to strangle her with the misplaced lump.  She sucked in her breath, and looked back to the face of the man whose future was now uncertain. 

"Aidan?" she asked.  The shaking in her voice transferred throughout her body. 

She shook as though her spirit and soul tried to separate.  All afternoon, she had anxiously waited for Aidan to return home.  Her conversation with him last night in the river had spurred a wide range of imaginings as to the reason for his delay.  Not one of her considerations included finding him, bleeding and nearly unconscious, on their doorstep.

Tripping over her own feet, she hurried to gather clean towels and water.  Why was it suddenly so hot in here?  The fire had burned low hours ago.  She ran her hand through her hair and turned in a circle.  She didn't know how to care for a wounded man.  What did she need?  Towels and water, that was what she had gone in search of to begin with.  Not completely certain what to do with the items, she was confident that they would be of benefit to her in some manner. 

She grabbed a handful of linens from the cabinet and tipped the pitcher, checking it for fullness.  The porcelain held enough water to fill a wash basin.  She could add more to it later.  She glanced down to Aidan's leg.  His pant leg was split to his hip, and his wound looked swollen and red.  Not knowing when and where he had injured himself, determination alone had brought him home.  Dropping the linens on the table, she fell to her knees next to Aidan.

"What happened to you?" she asked, wadding a towel and slipping it under his head.  She could only offer him comfort, and this frustrated her more than she wanted to admit.  Her tears flowed freely, easing her anxiety.

There was no need to guess the extent of the damage.  The wound was relatively clean.  One single puncture pierced the top of his thigh, and blood ran toward the inside of his leg.  Experience wasn't necessary to know that this vital substance needed to remain inside his body, and not all over the floor of their house. 

She looked down at her supplies and snatched up one of the linens.  Ripping the cloth, she folded the strip into a square and covered the injury.  Aidan moaned, and Faith glanced over at him.  He arched his neck backward as though he tried to pull his mind away from the pain.  Her hands shook more violently than she would have liked.  If she was to help him at all, she would have to ignore his outburst. 

She turned her head, giving herself a moment to rest, and then slipped the cloth around his leg.  Gathering the two ends together, she pulled the strips tight, and then tied it off.  With a little luck, it would hold the pad in place.  Finished with her task, her hands hovered above his leg.  She leaned backward against the wall, and slid to the floor.  She propped her elbow on her bent knees, and leaned her forehead against the backs of her blood covered fingers.  Not sure if she had done enough, she would have to wait to see if the wound would heal on its own.  At least his cut appeared to be staunched.

Aidan's head lolled to the side, and his eyes rolled independently of each other.  "Faith?" he whispered and motioned her to him.  She lowered her ear to his lips.  His hand touched her face, and he kissed her cheek.  She smiled down at him, her upper lip trembling.  "Now, I can die," he said.  He closed his eyes, and his body relaxed. 

"Aidan!" Faith screamed, refusing to agree with what he said. 

She glanced instinctively to his leg.  The fresh pad she had just put in place was soaked through.  A fresh stream of blood dribbled away from the patch.  She grabbed him by his arms, and shook him.  He could not leave her. 

"Aidan!" she screamed and bent low to his face.  She touched her forehead to his and squeezed her eyelids closed.  Clutching his hand to her chest, she tried to give him the strength he needed to survive.  She hoped he had the power needed to accept it.

She shook her head from side to side.  "You're wrong," she assured him.  Gently pressing her cheek to his, she sniffed back her tears, and whispered into the night, "Please, don't be right."

Chapter 16

Now, I can die
.  Aidan's last words before he fell unconscious still reverberated through Faith's mind.  Tears fell to her cheeks, and she crumpled onto the kitchen chair.  The amount of love this man had for her was more than she could bear.  Never had anyone demonstrated such adoration for her.  Her shoulders shook with a mix of love and the thought of possible loss.  She could not lose him now.  His injury helped her see how desperately she loved and needed him in her life.  Already at a loss for direction, how would she manage without him? 

An hour ago, she had left him on the floor of the cabin while she ran the half mile to her sister, Honor's house.  Aidan was a big man.  She would never be able to move him from the main room of the house to the bedroom.  Not knowing if Honor was home or if she was paying a visit to a sick patient, she had no choice but to seek her out.  The smoke curling upward from the chimney had been a good sign.  What a fearful sight she must have been when bursting into Honor's home. 

Honor had filled her plate with bread and cheese while Faith spilled the details of her unexpected visit.  When she had left her life with Hank, Honor had not been officially trained.  She had continued her husband's medical practice after his death.  No one seemed to mind.  She had assisted on every emergency since her husband's first house call.  She did not have the credentials to treat patients, but she had the experience, and that seemed to be acceptable to the local residents. 

Unwilling to wait any longer, Faith had grabbed Honor's leather bag, promised her a hearty bowl of stew after she attended Aidan, and then pushed her out the door.  She had answered Honor's basic questions as they made their way back to Faith's cabin.

Between the two of them, they had managed to walk Aidan to the bedroom.  He had not complained too loudly before collapsing face down in the bed.  Rolling him to his back was much easier than pulling him to his feet.  At least now, he shouldn't curse with each bump or jarred movement.

Honor had sent Faith to the well, asking for her to fill a large basin.  She didn't give the reason for needing such a large quantity of water, but she had been clear on the amount she needed and that it was to be heated.  While Faith did as she was instructed, Honor went into the bedroom to check on Aidan. 

Faith flicked her fingers in the kettle.  The water was barely warm.  She would need to let the liquid heat a lot longer before it could be considered hot.  Behind the closed, bedroom door, a deep voice moaned.  A woman's voice spoke above the deep tones.  Faith left the kettle to complete the job without her and then stepped to the bedroom.  She pushed open the door and stood under the frame.  

Aidan lay on the flat of his back, the blanket pulled to his waist.  The bedding was pulled away from his leg, similar to how he had looked only hours ago.  His shirt remained on, but was unbuttoned and loosened at the collar.  His hands were folded over his chest, dried blood lined his nails.  Honor continued to wipe a cloth over his wound.  From the way Aidan winced, the treatment for his injury was as painful as the wound itself.

Faith's hands shook, and she clasped them together to still them.  The hardest thing she had ever been asked to do was to stand back and await the outcome of the man she loved.  Honor poked and prodded Aidan's leg.  His jaw clenched, and his throat muscle's tightened.  His head and chest were soaked with sweat.  With each jolt and jerk his body made, Faith flinched with him.  Her arms tensed, and her nails dug into her palms.  Concentrating on Aidan's face and chest, Faith forgot about the woman irritating his wound.

"Is the basin filled with hot water?" Honor asked, without interrupting her routine. 

"No," Faith answered.  She shook her head, but kept her eyes focused on the bed.  She would no doubt have to duplicate the treatment once Honor returned home.  She needed to make sure she did it properly.

"What is that you put on his leg?" Faith asked.

"Something to keep it clean."  Honor twisted the top of a tiny pot and scooped out a minute amount of the cream.  A small dollop of colorless ointment sat on her upturned pad.  She slathered the glob over the open hole, pressing the salve into the wound.  Aidan's eyes remained closed, but he winced and pulled his leg away from her care. 

"The ointment stings a little, but will help him heal."  Honor wiped the excess medicine into her palm, and then adjusted the blanket over Aidan's body, leaving his leg exposed.  She stood up, and surveyed her work.  Seemingly content with her efforts, she collected her things, and motioned Faith to the main part of the house.  She followed after her and pulled the door closed behind them.

"When did this happen?" Honor asked.

"Sometime today," Faith answered, not wanting to step too far away from the bedroom in case Aidan called out.  "He went to the field this morning and was late returning home.  It must have happened early because he never came home for the noon meal."

Honor nodded and sat her bag on the table.  "Where's the pitch fork he used?"

Faith drew her brows together, curious why she was interested in a farm implement.  "Aidan's pitch fork?" she asked.  "I don't know.  Why do you need it?"

"I want to see if any part of the tip broke off in his leg.  I didn't find any evidence of breakage, but it could still be there.  If it is, I need to remove it while there is still time to save his leg."

Faith's world fell away from her.  She couldn't imagine a man as strong as Aidan hobbling around on one leg.  She grabbed hold of the back of the chair to steady herself, and tried to swallow.  "He told you he was pierced with a pitch fork?  I haven't been able to make sense of much of anything he has said."

"I have a good ear," Honor said.  "Old, but good."  She pulled a chair away from the table and sat down.  "Since my dinner was interrupted, I'll take a bowl of the stew you promised."

Faith stared over at her elder sister.  Honor had always spoken in a blunt manner and with a matter-of-fact rudeness that could chafe a person rawer than burlap.  These callous traits most likely served her well in her trade as a healer.  But while emotions could not guide her scalpel, a certain amount of care and concern needed to be included in her medical supplies.  Her stoic sister stood in front of her, lifting her long hair off of the nape of her neck and shook out the wavy locks.  Aidan's mishap was no more vital to her than a missed meal.  At least his life wasn't less important to her. 

Faith blinked and returned her attention to Honor's hair.  Her gray locks should have been a deep auburn as vivid as a hot fire.  How had she not noticed this when she had burst into her home?  Faith moved her gaze to her sister's face and studied it closely.  Lines and wrinkles cut into her skin like veins in a maple leaf.  If Faith were to guess, Honor looked to be sixty years old.

As if reading Faith's mind, Honor said, "We'll talk about your man over a bit of food, and then we'll catch up."

Faith moved to the fireplace and scooped a few spoonfuls of stew into a bowl, remembering how she had threatened Aidan with a cold meal.  After interrupting Honor's dinner by dragging her out of her house in the dead of night, she hoped the stew still held some of its warmth.  Faith glanced over her shoulder toward her sister.  "I can't promise how hot the meal will be."  She held the bowl to her side and stuck her finger into the sauce.  She breathed a sigh of relief.  Barely above tepid, it should still be palatable.  

"I'm used to eating cold soups and warm eggs," Honor assured her.  "Anything you serve will be fine."

Faith sat the dish in front of her sister and then handed her a spoon.  She had no appetite to indulge in anything herself, regardless of the temperature. 

Honor hefted a spoonful of vegetables to her mouth, and ate as though she enjoyed a holiday banquet.  "Do you think you can find the pitch fork?" she asked in between bites.

"Yes.  I can look for it now, if you like," Faith offered, and placed a plate of biscuits on the table.

"It can wait until we finish here, but before I leave, I want to see how clean the tine is."  She broke off a piece of bread and popped it in her mouth.  "Depending on what the tip contacted before striking his leg, could create a variety of problems."

Faith shuddered, thinking about the versatility of Aidan's pitch fork.  There wasn't a farm related substance he hadn't dragged that tool through.  "How bad is he?" Faith asked, not certain she welcomed the answer, but anything else was better than what she envisioned in her mind.

Honor placed the remainder of her biscuit on the table next to her bowl.  "If the tines are clean, and still in one piece, his fever should break soon.  He will be sore for several days to follow.  I would tell you to keep him in bed..."  She looked over at Faith, and they shared a knowing look.  At least Honor's mannerisms were still recognizable.