Arms of Love (44 page)

He raised the blankets and could see the reddened dual puncture marks on the outside of her calf in the light of the sun through the windows. Some slight swelling was already showing. The swelling was a bad sign; it meant that the bite had not been dry and that the poison was beginning to mount in her body.

“You should go for Ruth,” Lena said. “She will know the right herbs for a poultice. I cannot seem to remember right now.”

Her words struck him like a physical blow, but he kept his voice calm and level. “
Nee
, there’s not time enough for that. Do not worry. I know what to do.”

Cut and suck . . . cut and suck
. . . The phrase ran like broken music through his brain as he turned from the bed. He must clean his sharpest knife.

“I am going to do what you need, sweet, and then we shall enjoy lying in each other’s arms.” He spoke automatically, turning back to press a kiss on her warm brow. She caught him close, staring up into his eyes.

“Will it hurt, Adam?”

He shook his head. “
Nee
.”

Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . and if I am not fast, then . . .

“I’ll be back in a few moments, love. Lie still, will you promise?

’Twill keep the venom from spreading.”

“I promise,” she said, a fearful look on her face.

“
Gut
. ”

He grabbed a small knife from his dresser and raced back down the stairsteps to the kitchen. He plunged the knife into the standing bucket of clean water and grabbed a rough round of soap. He cleaned the blade again and again, then headed back up the steps to his bride.

Lena could not keep her promise to lie still, no matter how hard she tried.

The bite had ceased to burn as intensely as it had, but she felt incredibly restless and her body urged her to walk about—perhaps it would help to settle her stomach.

She slipped off the covers and thought how odd she must look in Adam’s nightshirt, though she was having trouble remembering how she had put it on. She began to prowl about the room, Adam’s room, and felt a distant thrill of interest to be so close to him.

She moved to his simply carved dresser with its few odds and ends on top. Then she fingered a carved link of chains. It must be the gift from Dale Ellis that Adam had told her about. She admired the smoothness of the wood and felt it strange that her fingertips seemed to tingle with sensation as she stroked the carving.

“Lena! What are you doing?”

She must have jumped in surprise at Adam’s frantic tone, but her movements felt soggy and thick. She was in a pile on the floor when he bent over her, lifting her easily against his chest.

“Your eyes, they’re so beautiful,” she whispered, reaching up to touch him. “But why do you look so sad?”

She felt herself placed on the bed, but the bed became a river raft that seemed to pitch and toss against unseasonable waves. She whimpered, hearing from a long way off. Someone was speaking, demanding her attention. She tried to hoist herself up on her elbows and had the notion that her heart might beat through her chest. Now, how could that be possible?

“. . . perfectly still. Do you hear, Lena?”

Adam was at the bottom of the bed, their wedding bed. His dark head was bent intently over her leg. She could feel his damp hair brush against her and it tickled. She almost moved her legs, wondering if he were staring too closely at her birthmark.

“Lena, a quick cut only, ’tis all.”

A slashing burn made her cry out, and then she thought she must have fallen off the river raft and tumbled into some strange sea. A sea creature, both delightful and shadowed, like one her father had told her stories of as a little girl, seemed to have found a close bond with her. She felt its kisses on her leg, quick, drawing sucks that came and went, making her shiver in pleasure, and then she drew a deep breath of water and felt herself begin to sink, the water enshrouding her until she fell into a strange sleep.

Adam knew what he had to do. Should even the smallest bit of venom slip down his throat, then he too could become poisoned, and then Lena would be alone in the house. He heard her tightened breath and worked on, carefully sucking from the bleeding wound and spitting the venom into a basin. He had no idea when to stop, and decided after half an hour that he had probably reached all that he could. Yet she was worse.

He covered his face with his hands and prayed, as he had been praying, wondering if he could leave her long enough to fetch Isaac. He had helped the babe. But he could not let her be alone, and his heart echoed what his mind would not—
he could not let her die alone.

He half sobbed as he rose to empty the basin, then came back to sit beside her on his bed. She was feverish now, lost in incoherent mumblings that he could make little sense of. He thought how young she looked and told himself that the bite was his fault. He had known better; he shouldn’t have let her swim.

Dear Gott, help. I will give my life for hers. Help us, please . . .

“Hiya! Hiya there, anybody home?”

Adam nearly fell off the bed when he heard the voice from below.

He bundled Lena securely in the covers so she would not fall from the bed, then rose to race downstairs.

“Nutter” Stolzfus stood in the open front doorway.

“Thank
Gott
,” Adam gasped.

“Land of Goshen,
buwe
, whatcha doin’ runnin’ round in only yer britches—though ye do look a hearty sight. Heard ye got married. I brought you and the missus a wagonload of potatoes. Thought it might start things off nice and simple like.”

“Lucas . . . Nutter. Listen, please. Lena lies upstairs. She was bitten by a rattler, and she’s getting worse. I need you to go to the Yoders’ as fast as you can.”

The wizened little man straightened a bit. “A rattler, ye say. Did you cut and suck?”

“
Ya
, but—”

“All right. All right. Calm down now, ole Nutter knows what to do.” He pulled an oilskin pouch from beneath his shirt. “Keep this with me always . . . Indian medicine. I traded two wagons full of potatoes to get it. Them rattlers strike hard in the potato fields.

Gotta be ready.”

Adam shook his head, nearly frantic. “
Nee
, please just go to the

Yoders’ for me.”

But Nutter was already in the kitchen, poking at the low embers in the grate of the fireplace. “Gotta brew a tea,
buwe
. Gotta get it down her throat fast. ’Twill kill the poison. I know you don’t believe me, but I know. Seen it work on an Indian bit twice by an eight-footer. Pulled him back from the grave. Don’t fret none now.”

Adam slowly closed the door and leaned against it. Maybe
Derr Herr
had sent Nutter with a cure. He knew he was willing to try anything. He half stumbled across the room, his eyes filled with tears, and gained the steps once more.

“Come up when it’s ready,” he called over his shoulder.

He heard Nutter mumble and went back to his room.

Lena had not moved, but he could hear her rasping breath as soon as he entered. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and caught her cold hand close, rubbing it across his face. Was this to be her appointed time to die? It had all happened so quickly. He closed his eyes and rocked his body against the bed, trying to pray but finding that he could not even think to form the words.

Lena was dreaming; she knew it and liked the sensation. It felt safe, like she was cocooned in warmth and her cares were few. She had somehow moved through the water and emerged, everything sparkling about her like crystal glass. Then she climbed to the green grass bank to find herself still clad in the absurd nightshirt. She laughed; it didn’t matter. She moved along, breathing in the smells of the mountains in springtime and fresh lilacs. She saw someone ahead of her and knew instinctively that it was her
mamm
. Her feet skimmed the cool grass as she ran, catching up with her mother, whose hair fell glorious and unbound.

“
Mamm
?”

Her mother turned to her and smiled, holding out her arms. Lena hugged her close, never wanting to let go.

“
Ach, Mamm
. It’s been so lonely without you, so hard.”

A thought occurred to her, like a thousand bursting suns, and she leaned close to her mother. “Adam and I are married,
Mamm.
”

“I know.” Her mother’s voice was distant, though she stood inches away, and melodic with a music Lena could not name.

“Lena, I must tell you something. I made Adam promise to give you up. He did it for me . . . until he could find a way to be free. He loves you so.”

Lena opened her mouth in surprise, wanting to say it was all right, that
Gott
had brought freedom, when something awful began to trickle down her throat, nearly choking her. She held fast to her mother but could not ignore the bitter taste that filled her. The dream was ending, and she didn’t want it to. She cried out to her mother, who seemed to disappear before her very eyes as another swallow of the vile liquid filled her, making her turn away, until everything was a palpable fog, cold and gray . . .