Loving Linsey (35 page)

Daniel stared into his dad's eyes, and the emotion that he saw in them filled him with a sense of acceptance he hadn't imagined possible. Years of discord and misunderstandings crumbled away, uncovering a trove of respect neither had expected, to ever find.

Daniel cupped his dad's shoulder and, with a trembling smile, gave the old man a brief shake. If nothing else had gone right in the last few years, at least he and his father had finally made peace.

The jangle of cowbells and a sudden crash from the apothecary jolted both men. They turned as one and raced through the curtained partition.

Daniel's alarm turned to puzzlement at the sight of Robert Jarvis bracing himself against the frame of the front door. “Jarvis, what are you doing here? I figured you'd be halfway across Alabama by now.” The town was still buzzing about the lamplighter's ascension in the new balloon. The
Herald
had even given it front-page coverage in the same issue that announced Addie Witt's engagement to Oren Potter.

Daniel had missed Jarvis's event, which was
probably for the best since he neither wanted nor needed any reminders of the day he and Linsey had touched the clouds. The wisest thing he could do was just forget he'd ever known her, forget he'd ever loved her.

“I ain't feelin' so good, Dan'l.”

As Daniel approached his friend, he noticed the beads of sweat on his narrow brow, and smelled the humidity of his woolen clothes and coat. His instincts went on instant alert. Flushed, feverish, glassy eyes . . . “You been drinking Cooter's shine again?” he joked to hide his concern.

“Didn't ya hear? Cooter . . . gave up moonshinin'.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Jarvis went slack. Daniel raced to his friend's side, catching Jarvis under the arms just as his legs folded under him. “Jarvis, what's the matter with you?”

“You're the doc. You tell me.”

And then he passed out.

Epidemic.

The word struck fear in the heart of any doctor, and Daniel was no different.

“Anybody who was at the wedding has been exposed,” Daniel, Sr., gravely announced several days later.

“There were a hundred people there, Dad!”

“I know, son. We've already got six stricken down with the virus, and at the rate influenza travels, we'll have sixty more by Christmastime. You best get some sleep while you can. Soon enough, there won't be time.”

Over the next week, close to twenty people—some whole families—were caught in the grip of the influenza virus, and the following week another fifteen were stricken down, keeping Daniel and his father in perpetual motion from one end of the county to the other. Some cases were milder, not exceeding the frontal-lobe headache, runny nose and sore throat, and general lame feeling associated with the virus. Others, though, had reached the more advanced stages of vomiting and respiratory cough. Those were the cases that concerned the doctors most, for they threatened to develop into catarrh pneumonia.

Finally, three days before Christmas, Daniel sank to his bed like a lead weight, grateful that the worst of the epidemic seemed to have passed. And miracle of miracles, they hadn't lost a single patient.

Only when Daniel felt a sting to his knuckles did he realize he'd been knocking on the wooden nightstand for luck.

With a deep scowl, he thrust his fist under his pillow. Would Linsey never leave him alone? No matter where he went, or who he was with, his thoughts turned to her. He hadn't seen her since that night beside Horseshoe Creek, when she'd given herself to him without reserve and made herself so much a part of him he feared he'd never be cured of her.

Even now, bone-deep weary and wanting only to catch a few winks, he couldn't get her out of his mind.

His last thought before falling into a sleep fit
for the dead was that she'd better have had enough sense to keep clear of those infected with the illness.

He wouldn't talk to her. He wouldn't look at her. He wouldn't even walk on the same side of the street as she did.

With a dejected slump of her shoulders, Linsey turned away from the darkened apothecary window and started for home. Even shopping for Christmas gifts with Addie hadn't lessened the heavy weight on her heart since her parting with Daniel two weeks earlier.

She tried to find some comfort in the fact that she and Addie had mended their broken fences. They spent their evenings planning Addie's wedding, yet nothing diminished this aching loneliness she'd been feeling since the night of Jenny and Noah's wedding, when her world had gone from hell to heaven and back again.

Reaching Briar House, she paused on the veranda steps with a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes, willing away the nausea churning inside her.

Aunt Louisa had lied to her, she thought, dragging herself into the house and up the stairs. Love didn't make a girl's toes curl and her breath catch and her fingers tingle.

It made her stomach roll and her muscles ache and her throat sting.

She crawled under the thick quilts of her bed and tried to remember a time when she'd ever felt so miserable, but couldn't. There
wasn't a place on her that didn't feel bruised or swollen.

And as the days passed, the feeling grew worse, becoming so bad that she could barely drag herself out of bed each morning. She made excuses to Aunt Louisa and Addie, not wanting them to worry over a simple case of broken heart. But when general misery steadily developed into painful breathing and hot chills, Linsey began to worry herself.

She brought the quilt tighter around her shoulders as a chill overtook her body, and still she couldn't seem to get warm.

As much as she hated to face it, she knew what was happening. Her time had come: she was dying. As surely as the sun set each night, the omen was coming true.

It was nothing like she'd thought or hoped. Nothing fast or painless. This heavy, miserable sensation wasn't a simple case of heartache. Influenza claimed its victims slowly.

A knock came on the door, and a second later Addie appeared with a tray balanced on her hip. “You didn't come down to dinner, so I thought I'd bring you up something to eat.”

Linsey held a cough deep in her lungs. They strained and burned, feeling as if they were being pressed through her spine with each breath she took. “I'm not hungry.”

“Will you at least try? You've hardly eaten enough to sustain a bird.” She set the tray on the bedside stand and sat down on the edge of Linsey's bed. “Are you feeling all right?” Without waiting for a reply, she pressed a cool, slim hand to Linsey's brow, only to jerk back. “For
heaven's sake, Linsey, you feel on fire!”

“Funny, I feel as if I'm made of ice.”

“I've got to get Daniel.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don't want to see him, any more than he wants to see me.”

“You are ill, and you need a doctor. If you won't see Daniel, I'll send for Doc Sr.”

“It won't do any good, Addie.” She turned her face against the pillow and stared out the window, feeling hollow, aching, and weary. So weary. “My time is almost up.”

“Don't say that!”

“We've known this was coming.”

“No.” Addie drew back in horror. “You've made yourself believe this would happen.”

“You sound like Daniel,” Linsey said with a wan smile. “Addie, I only had two things left on my wish list. One was to make amends to Daniel. If I don't see him again, make sure he gets the letter I left for him in my vanity drawer. Perhaps when he reads it, it will help make up for all the pain I've caused him. The second thing left undone was to see you married to the man of your dreams. It doesn't look like I'll be able to keep my promise. But I want you to know that even if I'm not there in body, I'll be there in spirit, standing right beside you when you exchange vows with your Prince Charming.”

“You stop talking this foolishness,” Addie ordered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You will live into the new year, and you will stand up at my wedding, do you hear me?” She dashed out the door.

Linsey blinked back the tears scalding her
eyes. Poor Addie. Didn't she know she was wasting her energy?

God knew, Linsey wished things were different. But a body couldn't fight fate. Her time had come to an end.

And not even Daniel could save her.

Sometimes the only luck left

is the luck we make ourselves.

A
violent shaking to his shoulder jolted Daniel awake. Disoriented, he glanced around the room until his gaze landed on a familiar blond woman standing beside his bed. He blinked. “Addie? What are you doing in my room?”

“I couldn't find your father.”

Daniel snatched his shirt off the end of the bed and shoved his arms through the sleeves. “Granny Yearling took sick; he's over at her place. What's wrong?”

“It's Linsey.”

He stilled, instant alarm snapping him to full alertness. “What about Linsey?”

“I think she's come down with the influenza.”

Unmindful of Addie's presence, Daniel yanked a pair of trousers over his nudity, shoved his feet into his boots, and grabbed his medical bag.

They raced up Briar Hill. Daniel took the steps two at a time, burst through the front door, and tore up the stairs. His heart stampeding in his chest, he threw open each door down the hallway until he came to Linsey's room.

Even under a pile of blankets, she shook from chills. Three swift strides brought him to her side. “Linsey?” He brushed his hand tenderly against her brow, shocked at the heat emanating from her body. “For chrissake, she's burning up!”

“That's why I fetched you.”

Daniel ripped his stethoscope from his bag and pressed the disk to Linsey's chest. “Her lungs are congested, her skin is dry—why in the hell wasn't I called earlier?”

“It just hit, Daniel, honest! She never gave any indication that she was ill.”

“She's got the goddamn pneumonia!”

Addie's hand shot to her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Daniel fought to get his rampaging emotions under control. Bellowing at Addie wasn't going to do Linsey any good. She needed medical attention. He was a doctor. It was time he started acting like one.

After taking several deep breaths to clear his thoughts, he told Addie, “We need a fire going. I also need some clothesline to hang blankets up to warm, and a pot of water put on to boil.”

Addie stood there, frozen.

“Now!”

That got her moving. As she dashed out the
door, Daniel brushed a wild red lock from Linsey's forehead. “Can you hear me?”

She stirred a bit, whether from his voice or his touch, he couldn't be sure. He was just thankful she responded.

“Daniel?”

“I'm here.”

“I told Addie not to fetch you.”

“Why would you tell her that?”

“Because there's nothing you can do. Because I didn't think you'd come.”

“Wild horses couldn't have stopped me. And I'm going to do everything I can to make you better.”

“It won't be enough.”

“It will if you trust me.”

All he got was tiny smile before she went out again, but it was enough.

Addie returned a short time later with all the items he needed. He had Addie make a pot of tea, to which he added several grains of powder to help break Linsey's fever and ease her discomfort. While Addie fed several spoonfuls between Linsey's chalky lips, Daniel warmed the blankets and piled them on top of her, and wrapped her feet in cloths soaked in hot water. Then he held her limp body over a kettle of a hot herbal mixture in the hopes that it would loosen the congestion in her lungs.

They continued the treatment through the night and all the next day. When Louisa Gordon came home that evening after caring for Persistence Yearling for two days, she was shocked to see her niece so ill. She pitched in without hesitation. By then, news of Linsey's
illness had begun to spread around Horseshoe. Several neighbors dropped by, but since Daniel wouldn't let them near her, they remained downstairs, supplying the family with food and comfort.

Even Oren had come by, and as was the way of pals, neither he nor Daniel spoke of their falling out. They just put it behind them as if it had never happened.

Day bled into night, then into day again, the hours becoming a blur of mechanical motion. Boil water, spoon-feed tea, administer medication, steam the lungs . . .

Daniel concentrated on the treatments he'd been taught, rather than on the fact that the woman he loved more than life itself was lying on death's doorstep. He refused to consider the odds of recovery. Linsey was young, she was strong, she was energetic. She'd pull through this.

But by the third day, when there was no change in her condition, Daniel began to doubt.

“Daniel,” Addie said gently, “you can't keep this up. You must get some rest.”

“I'm not leaving her.” Not again.

“You won't do either Linsey or yourself any good if you don't lie down for a few minutes.”

“I
won't
leave her.” His gaze returned to Linsey's flushed face. What wasn't he doing? Why wasn't she getting better? He swallowed heavily and told Addie in a hoarse voice, “Fetch my father.”

Daniel, Sr., arrived within the hour.

“It's bad, son, bad,” Daniel's father
announced after a quick examination. “If she'd called one of us sooner, maybe, but now . . . I'll do what I can, of course. Boneset tonic, purging—”

“No. No purging. No bleeding, either. She's lost enough fluids.”

“Fine. The acetanilid and salicylate of soda three times a day has been effective.”

“She's beyond that. What about the atropine powders?”

“Might work for the catarrhal and nasal discharge. But I'd try the boneset tonic first. Has she been able to keep anything down?”