Head in the Clouds (25 page)

Chapter 33

Her wedding looked nothing like the one in her dreams. A sickroom instead of a chapel with stained-glass windows. An everyday calico dress instead of tiers of golden satin and ivory lace. Her groom propped up in bed, lines of strain etching his face instead of the smiling man she’d imagined standing proudly at the end of an aisle. No flowers. No music. No crowd of well-wishers. Yet one element permeated the event exactly as she had envisioned it.

Love.

From Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers, who leaned into each other and nodded while the preacher expounded on the virtues of marriage, to Mabel Garrett, who dabbed her eyes with her apron every two minutes. Isabella, in her cotton nightgown and bare feet, beamed as she joined in the ceremony, placing her own small hands atop Adelaide’s and Gideon’s joined ones. But the strongest evidence of all lay in the intensity of emotion that glimmered in Gideon’s eyes as he vowed to cherish her. His love was so raw, so transparent, so true that no chapel or dress or flowers could have improved upon the moment.

It might not have been the wedding of her dreams, but it was the wedding of her heart.

After all the necessary documents had been signed and witnessed, Adelaide began shooing people from the room. Gideon’s wan complexion worried her, as did the way he slumped over his pillows at a crooked angle, too exhausted to hold his head up properly.

“Mrs. Chalmers?” Adelaide motioned the housekeeper to her side. “Please make up the guest chamber for Brother Kent. You may put Dr. Bellows in my room.” A touch of heat warmed her face. “I’ll be staying with my husband tonight.”

My husband.
The thought sent delightful little shivers dancing down her arms.

The housekeeper smiled knowingly at her. “I’ll see to it at once,
Mrs. Westcott
.”

Adelaide bit back her burgeoning grin and turned to the cook.

“Mrs. Garrett, would you mind putting together a cold supper for those of us who have not eaten yet tonight? With all the excitement, I don’t believe our guests have been offered any refreshment after their journey.”

Mabel swiped at her eyes a final time and reclaimed her usual sour expression, hiding away the tender heart that everyone in the house knew existed behind her grumpy façade.

“The beef’s probably dry as kindling by now, but I’ll see if I can salvage enough for sandwiches.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Garrett. I know you’ll work wonders. You always do.”

Isabella tugged on Adelaide’s skirt. “Can I sing my song now, Miss Addie? Papa Gidyon’s already in bed.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Dr. Bellows murmured in her ear, arresting the words on her tongue. “He needs a morphine injection first, ma’am. He’s been battling a long time.”

Adelaide wrapped her arm around her new daughter’s shoulder as she glanced back toward Gideon. He’d held the pain at bay for hours and was now paying the price for his courage. His eyes were closed, yet his face was far from relaxed. Deep lines cut into his forehead and around his mouth. Her heart ached with his suffering.

“Why don’t we let Dr. Bellows give him his medicine first, Izzy,” she said, giving the girl’s arm a squeeze. “Then you can sing. I know your papa is looking forward to it.”

Dr. Bellows nodded to her and retrieved the syringe from the bureau. Adelaide steered Isabella away from the sight of the needle and moved to join James and Brother Kent by the window. Despite her concern for her husband, she plopped her best hostess smile into place and clasped the preacher’s hand.

“Thank you so much for coming out to the ranch tonight, Parson. Your prayers have been a blessing. And even though our request to marry was rushed and unconventional, our vows were true, and the words you spoke over us were lovely.”

“Glad to be here, my dear.” He released her hand, and a boyish grin spread across his face. “Martha’s going to be beside herself when I tell her.” The preacher glanced sideways at James. “My wife has been speculating on the matchmaking possibilities between these two since the first Sunday Westcott brought her to services.”

“I had much the same thought when she waltzed into my Fort Worth office.” James winked and held out the packet of papers he had just folded up. “And now I have proof that I was right.” He tucked the papers into his jacket pocket and patted his chest where they protruded. “Your wife will have to fight me for the bragging rights.”

“Listen to you two.” Adelaide shook her head at them in mock reproof, her mood lightened momentarily by their silly banter.

“Martha will probably take me to task for denying her the chance to do up the church for the ceremony. There’s nothing she loves more than all that feminine froufrou that goes into a wedding. Perhaps after Gideon recovers, the two of you can have a second ceremony at the church so Martha and the other ladies can make a big fuss.”

Her eyes burned with the tingle of oncoming tears at the hope inherent in his statement. He spoke of Gideon’s recovery as if it were assured. After all the dire predictions from everyone, including Gideon, the minister’s faith-filled statement served as a salve on her battered spirit. She blinked away the tears and cleared the excess emotion from her throat. “I would like that very much.”

Isabella, who until then had been waiting patiently while the adults conversed, grabbed hold of Adelaide’s arm and began swaying back and forth. The swaying turned into hopping, which caused Adelaide to have to catch her balance several times. Anxious to redirect the child’s energy, Adelaide glanced over her shoulder to check on the doctor’s progress. He was packing his bag, the injection completed.

She turned back to her guests. “Mrs. Garrett is preparing some refreshment downstairs for you, gentlemen. James, would you show Brother Kent to the dining room?”

The men accepted her not-so-subtle hint with graciousness and headed toward the door. James slowed his step for a moment, however, and drew her aside.

“Gideon asked me to post a letter to his family,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll hold it for a day if you would like to add a personal note.”

His parents. All this time, she had been so wrapped up in her own distress, she had not spared them a single thought. How the news of Gideon’s injury would grieve them. She was sure James would supply a detailed account of what had happened and explain why their son had felt compelled to marry in haste, but he couldn’t assure them of her love or how she would do everything in her power to help make him well. James wouldn’t think to write of Isabella and her speaking, giving Gideon’s parents something to rejoice about even in the face of their worry for their son’s survival.

“Yes. Thank you, James. I would like to write to them very much. I’ll see to it in the morning.”

Isabella jumped up and tried to hang from Adelaide’s arm, but slipped off when Adelaide tipped to the side. The little monkey was driving her to distraction. She clamped her mouth shut on the snippy reprimand that tried to dart out. If Isabella didn’t cease her tugging and grabbing soon … Adelaide inhaled a deep breath through her nose in an effort to hide her frustration. Her emotions had been seesawing for hours now, and her control was quickly reaching threadbare status.

“Now, Miss Addie? Now can I sing?”

Adelaide gladly seized the suggestion. “Yes, Izzy. This is the perfect time for you to sing.”

With a grin, Isabella finally let go of Adelaide’s arm and skipped over to Gideon’s bedside.

“Papa Gidyon, Papa Gidyon. Are you ready for your song?”

Adelaide reached the bed at a more sedate pace, her gaze intent on Gideon’s face. His brows lifted first, then his lids, too heavy to rise more than half-mast. His brown eyes were clouded. From the pain or the morphine, she didn’t know.

“I’m ready, Bella mine,” he slurred. He attempted a smile, but it ended up looking more like a twitch. Isabella didn’t seem to mind, though. She pirouetted until her gown belled out around her ankles, then curtsied as if the impromptu dance was part of the performance. Stepping closer to the bed, she drew breath and began to sing in a clear soprano that shocked Adelaide with its purity.

“Sleep my child and peace attend thee,
All through the night.
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night.
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I my loving vigil keeping
All through the night.”

The tune of the familiar folk song pierced Adelaide’s heart as she gazed upon the man she loved. Her lips didn’t form the words, but her mind echoed them, praying for God to send guardian angels and vowing to keep a loving vigil throughout the long night ahead.

Isabella continued on with a verse Adelaide had not heard before. As she sang, Gideon tilted his chin up just enough to peer into Adelaide’s eyes.

“Love, to thee my thoughts are turning
All through the night.
All for thee my heart is yearning,
All through the night.
Though sad fate our lives may sever
Parting will not last forever,
There’s a hope that leaves me never,
All through the night.”

No longer able to hold back her tears, Adelaide had to turn away. Thankfully, Isabella launched into yet another verse of the lullaby, providing Adelaide a chance to step aside and compose herself. A handkerchief swam before her, attached to the blurry arm of Dr. Bellows.

“Thank you.” Adelaide took the proffered cotton square and dried her eyes. She smiled self-consciously as she handed the handkerchief back to the doctor.

“Would you like to discuss the treatment for your husband while the child is distracted with her song?”

Adelaide’s nurturing instincts snapped to attention, shoving aside her more weepy emotions. She glanced back at the bed, but neither father nor daughter seemed aware of her at the moment.

“Yes, Doctor,” she said, ridding herself of her melancholia with a final sniff. “Tell me what to do.”

He guided her toward the door and spoke in a quiet voice so as not to be overheard. “Don’t allow him any solid food for several days, and only enough water to keep him hydrated. With a puncture wound like this, the damage goes too deep for sutures, so I simply packed the wound and replaced his bandage. You will need to change the dressings twice a day. I’ll leave you some laudanum to help with the pain, and I’ll administer another morphine injection before I leave in the morning.”

Adelaide nodded, making mental notes of his instructions.

“Do you have any questions?” the doctor asked as he grasped the handle of his bag and swung the small satchel off the bureau.

She could only think of one. “When will we know if he is going to live?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and let out an audible breath. “It’s hard to say, ma’am. I’ve never seen a man in this condition recover. However, I have read of cases where soldiers survived similar wounds during the war. Recovery depends on how much damage the bullet does as it passes through the abdominal cavity. If it doesn’t hit any major organs or cause internal hemorrhage, the patient has a chance to survive. It’s not likely, but it is possible. As long as infection doesn’t set in.”

“So, how long until we know?” she repeated, needing something tangible to grasp.

Dr. Bellows tugged on the corner of his mustache. “I don’t know for certain, Mrs. Westcott. But if your husband survives the next two or three days, I’d say his odds would be greatly improved.”

Adelaide clung to the number the doctor had given her. Three days. She just had to keep him alive for three days.

She squared her shoulders and flicked a crisp nod. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He collected his hat and disappeared through the doorway. She probably should have offered to escort him downstairs, but she didn’t want to leave Gideon. Dr. Bellows was an intelligent man. Surely he could find the dining room by himself. His nose would lead him there if nothing else.

Suddenly the quiet in the room hit her. Isabella had finished her song. Adelaide spun around to see a little nightgown-clad angel kneeling by the side of Gideon’s bed. The mattress stood too high for her to place her elbows on top, so she folded her hands in front of her and rested her forehead against the edge of the ticking.

“Dear God, you made Papa Gidyon a little better, but his hurts are still there. Did you forget to take them away? I’ll keep ’minding you till they’re all gone.”

Adelaide smiled, her own head bowed as she listened.

“Oh, and thank you for giving me a new mama. If I can’t have my old mama back, Miss Addie is the next best thing. Amen.”

Contentment seeped into Adelaide’s heart like warm oil, softening every hardened edge and renewing each tattered corner. She padded over to her daughter and helped her get up from the floor.

“Papa Gidyon fell asleep during my song,” Isabella whispered as she regained her feet, “but I think he liked it.”

Adelaide lifted the girl into her arms and braced her on a hip. “I’m sure he did, sweetheart. It was lovely.”

Isabella’s jaw stretched down in a wide yawn, eliciting an answering one from Adelaide. Time for bed.

After tucking Isabella in and kissing her cheek good-night, Adelaide exited the child’s room and stood, unmoving, in the hall. An absurd tingle of nervousness ran through her. What did she have to be nervous about? Yes, it was her wedding night, but Gideon was certainly in no condition to perform his husbandly duties. However, that fact did nothing to stop Adelaide’s stomach from flopping around like a landed fish as she finally goaded herself down the hall.

At Gideon’s door, she grasped the handle and paused. Tonight was her chance to finally be a wife—to be Gideon’s wife. She didn’t know how much time the Lord would grant them, so she dared not waste a moment of it. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and crept into the room.

With all the visitors gone, the room seemed large and a bit intimidating. Adelaide crossed halfway to the bed and stopped. She hadn’t thought to get a nightgown.
Fiddlesticks.
Now what? She could sleep fully dressed, but that would be horribly uncomfortable. After the day she’d had, how could she deny herself the pleasure of finally removing her stays and relaxing in unfettered sleep? Simple. She couldn’t.