Beyond Betrayal (31 page)

Her decision made, Delilah sat down to consider how to word the two correspondences she must write. She'd begin with the one for Samson. Tears blurred her vision as she stared at the blank sheet of paper before her, but they were tears of regret and self-pity, and she refused to allow them to fall. Regret for the loss of a love she had found too late. Regret for the future that might have been and could now never be. And self-pity as she pictured herself becoming another Edwina Sharp, dying alone and unloved in some distant place with only strangers to bury her.

Poopsy whined in commiseration, and Delilah automatically leaned down to pat the little dog reassuringly on the head. Then, she focused on the paper before her.

~~~

Dearest Matt
,

    What I have to tell you is extremely difficult, and I know you shall never forgive my betrayal which is why I haven't the courage to face you. I won't bother begging for your forgiveness. I do beg of you to try to understand, however, that my actions were the result of impulsiveness and thoughtlessness rather than malice.

~~~

At that point, she halted and simply stared at the paper. The words necessary to say what needed to be said eluded her. And despite her determination, tears began to track silently down her cheeks. She had fallen in love only to lose him in almost the same instant that she'd realized she loved him. It wasn't fair.

A knock at her door made Delilah jump guiltily. She hastily slid the letter she'd been writing beneath a stack of paper. After quickly wiping the tears from her face, she called, "Just a moment," before rising to peer into the mirror. She dabbed a cloth over the tear-stains, pinched some color into her cheeks and smoothed her skirts. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about her reddened eyes.

Moving to the door, she asked, "Who is it?" hoping against hope that it would not be Samson.

"It's Freda Schmidt, Mrs. Sterne. I haf a message for you."

Delilah quickly unfastened the lock and opened the door. Freda took one look at her and said, "Oh, my. You haf heard already?"

Delilah stared at her blankly. "Heard what?"

"Zat your sister came to town with poor Tom laid up in ze back of ze wagon. Zey are wit' Doc Hale now. Eve, she is asking for you."

"Oh, no!” Delilah stared at Freda in horror. And then, mindlessly grabbed her reticule and headed for the door. "Will you watch Poochie for me again, Mrs. Schmidt?"

"Uf course, uf course. You go."

Delilah remembered nothing of her walk to the doctor's office, but suddenly she was standing before the door. Incongruously, she noted that the dark green paint on the door had begun to peel. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to marshal her inner resources, then firmly reached out to turn the handle. Stepping into the waiting room, she immediately noticed the smells associated with doctor's offices everywhere: a combination of herbal remedies, strange concoctions, and timeworn books. The waiting room was small. It held two armchairs against one wall, and another two exactly opposite. Across from the entry, a curtained alcove led off into the inner sanctum of the doctor's domain.

The waiting room was empty.

Delilah stepped in, jumping as a bell over the door jangled, and then halted and stood wondering what to do. Straining her ears, she listened for the sound of voices, but the place was as silent as a tomb. Oh! She winced inwardly at her unfortunate choice of wording. Abruptly a voice bellowed, "Who's there?"

Delilah jumped—her nerves must have been positively frayed for it was not like her to be so easily startled. Then finding her voice, called back, "Mrs. Sterne."

"I'll be out in a minute," the voice shouted. "Have a seat."

Delilah heard the murmur of a woman's voice—Eve?—and then quick, light steps coming toward her. An instant later the curtain moved aside, and Eve emerged. "Oh, Delilah," she said, throwing her arms around her sister. "Thank you for coming."

There was a desperation in Eve's embrace that worried Delilah and she felt another stab of guilt—a common circumstance in the past few hours—for having considered leaving her to face this alone. "How is he?" she murmured.

"Unconscious. From all the laudanum, you know. Doc says it'll be a blessing if he goes in his sleep," her voice hitched and she broke off, swallowing audibly.

"Oh, Lord! Evie I'm so sorry."

Eve sobbed against Delilah's shoulder then. "It's my fault, Del. If only I hadn't listened to him."

If there was one thing Eve did not need to suffer it was guilt! Gasping her sister by the upper arms, Delilah pulled back from her until she could look into her face. "It is
not
your fault, Eve. The decision was Tom's, and he's the one who made it. He doesn't blame you, and he certainly wouldn't want you blaming yourself now, would he?"

Eve simply stared at her with misery shining from her luminous green eyes.

"Would he?" Delilah asked again.

Slowly Eve shook her head. "No, I suppose not."

"All right then. Now what did the doctor say?"

"He said that it's probably just a matter of hours now."

Delilah studied her and put a cap on her own tear-ducts. "And has everything been said between you and Tom that needed to be said?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, yes," Eve said as renewed tears shone in her eyes and she turned away to pace the small waiting room. "More than enough I think. I'm so angry with him and I don't want to be angry with him because I love him and he's . . . ” She bowed her head and her shoulders shook in silent misery.

Delilah placed an arm around her. "Why are you angry with him, Evie? What's happened?"

Eve hiccupped. "I'm angry with him for choosing to die when I need him so. And I'm angry with him because . . . ” She broke off to stifle a sob. "He told me he wants me to marry again, Delilah.” Her lip trembled. "But only for love, he said. Not to save the ranch. Not for companionship. Not for any reason but love.” Then turning to Delilah she said, "He made me promise to let myself fall in love again. How can he think that's even possible when my heart feels like it's being shattered into a thousand pieces?"

"Hearts heal, honey. Tom knows that. He loves you and he wants you to be happy. Don't be angry with him for that. And as for marrying again, I don't think you need to worry about that now. Once some time has passed you can think about the promise you made."

Eve nodded. "You're right. Right now, I just want to sit with Tom in case he wakes again. I don't want him to be alone when . . . "

She broke off as her face twisted with grief and Delilah enfolded her in her embrace once more, her own heart aching with the need to protect her sister from her pain. But that was an impossibility. "It's all right to cry, sweetheart. Let it out."

Delilah held her younger sister as her body convulsed with the force of her grief and wondered how the Lord could be so cruel as to take everyone they loved from them. Their mother, then just two years later their father, and now. . . Tom. Someone of Eve's tender age should not have to suffer so much.

A moment later, Eve regained control. Pulling away, she dried her eyes and looked up at Delilah. "Will you stay with me?"

"You know I will."

Delilah followed Eve down a narrow hallway to a back room. The smell of sickness was horrid, but she did her best to pretend she hadn't noticed. An intense young man with dark hair and spectacles worked over Tom; he didn't even glance up as they entered. "I've cleaned the leg as well as possible," he said. Delilah gasped as she caught sight of the limb to which he referred. Tom's trouser leg had been sliced from hem to hip, exposing his leg for the doctor's care, but Delilah doubted there was much that could have been accomplished by anything short of a miracle. The limb was quite literally black with putrefaction. Ugly red streaks radiated upward from the decaying limb over Tom's exposed chest offering mute evidence of the spreading infection. "If he does happen to wake," the doctor continued, "and is in pain you can give him some more laudanum.” Doctor Hale indicated a brown bottle sitting on a stand that also contained a number of strange looking metal instruments. "It can't hurt him now. Other than that, just sponge him occasionally to keep him as comfortable as possible."

Eve nodded. "All right, thank you. Doctor, this is my sister, Mrs. Delilah Sterne."

He glanced up then and nodded. "I've seen your handiwork, Mrs. Sterne. Nice job of stitching you did on the sheriff. Don't suppose you'd be interested in a job as my assistant. It's demanding work and doesn't pay much except in satisfaction, but you have some definite talent there."

Delilah's eyes widened in startlement. "Well, I, um . . . "

He waved away her stumbling response. "Never mind. Just let me know if you change your mind."

"I will, sir. Thank you."

"Delilah is going to stay with me for a while if it's all right with you, Doc," Eve interjected.

Doctor Hale nodded as he draped a sheet over Tom's inert form. "Sure. I only have one other patient," he gestured toward the wall on his right, which presumably shielded another room, "and he's the kind that's secured to his bed with a pair of handcuffs anyway. I doubt that her presence will bother him."

The doctor left them then, and Eve and Delilah pulled up chairs next to the table on which Tom lay. The change in his appearance since Delilah had seen him last was startling. His skin was pale, but flushed with the unnatural blush of fever. His lips had a bluish tinge. And he'd lost so much weight that he was mere skin and bones with the exception of his grotesquely swollen leg.

The afternoon passed slowly, the only sounds in the room were those of Tom's ragged, labored breathing and Eve's occasional sobbing as she rose to sponge Tom's wasted body. She wouldn't allow Delilah to help with Tom's care. "I won't have the opportunity to do things for him much longer," she murmured in explanation.

With all of her energies focused on Eve and Tom, Delilah pushed aside her own problems for a time, though Samson's plight was never far from her mind. She had to help him!

Later.

Time passed. Her tears spent, Eve sat staring at Tom's sunken face with dry, tortured eyes. Feeling inadequate, Delilah placed a hand over her sister's; the comfort of her presence was all she had to offer. Eve turned her hand palm upward to grip Delilah's fingers with crushing force. After that, she simply held on, as though in Delilah's hand she'd found the anchor she needed to keep from falling into a pit of despair and self-blame.

Some time later, the bell over the door in the outer room jangled and Delilah heard muted voices. A moment later, Doctor Hale came in carrying two supper plates. "Mrs. Schmidt sent these over with young Erich.” He set the dishes on a cabinet nestled against the wall and then moved to the examining table where he lifted Tom's eyelids briefly to peer into his eyes. "How's he been doing? Has he roused at all?"

Having blanketed herself in numbness, Eve didn't stir to reply, so Delilah looked at him and shook her head. "He's the same," she murmured.

Hale shook his head sadly and checked his patient again, taking his pulse and checking his leg, though it was obvious even to Delilah that there wasn't anything he could do for him. Then the doctor met Delilah's eyes meaningfully and shook his head again. "If you need anything, just call," he said. "And try to get Mrs. Cameron to eat a bite or two."

Delilah nodded in silent agreement as the doctor left the room.

A while later, although she wasn't very hungry herself, she rose to retrieve the plates the doctor had left. Each plate had a small dish of custard nestled on one edge. In addition to the custard, Mrs. Schmidt had provided them with a hearty beef stew and homemade buns. Taking one of the plates over to where Eve sat staring blankly at her husband's face, Delilah gently nudged her. "Eve honey, I want you to take this. You need to try to eat something."

In blind obedience Eve accepted the plate, lowering it to her lap, without so much as looking at it.

"Will you try a bit?" Delilah asked.

Eve shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she murmured so quietly that, even standing right before her, Delilah had to bend forward to hear the words.

"I know Evie. I'm not either. But we have to eat just a little bit. Please? For me?"

For the first time in hours, Eve looked at Delilah. Then, slowly, she nodded and picked up the fork on her plate. Piercing a small piece of carrot, she put it in her mouth. Satisfied that Eve would at least try to eat something, Delilah turned to retrieve the other plate for herself and then resumed her seat next to Eve.

Neither of them was able to eat more than a few bites, but at least it was something. Sometime later, she didn't know how long, Delilah replaced the plates with their now cold fare on the cabinet. She was tired, discouraged, and feeling particularly helpless, so she took a moment to lean against the cabinet, close her eyes, and simply breath. A groan came from across the room, and she whirled at the sound. Tom was stirring, very slightly, and Eve had risen to lean over him.

"Tom, I'm here."

Tom opened fever-glazed eyes to look at her. "Evie, darlin'?"

"I'm here.” Eve clasped his hands and squeezed. "I won't leave you."

A lump rose in Delilah's throat, choking her, and tears swam in her eyes, blurring the scene before her.