I remained at Bella's side through the morning, continuing to wipe her skin gently with a damp, cool cloth or stroke her cheek and brow with my fingers. This seemed to comfort her; her breathing and heart rate always slowed at my touch.
I knew her fever had lowered somewhat. The quinine was working. She would need another dose soon, however. I also wanted to obtain an exact temperature reading. Her sleep had been sound for several hours, and I hated to disturb her. Restful slumber was important for healing, and disrupting it was somewhat counterproductive to her recovery.
Shortly before noon I measured out the quinine, deciding that I might be able to administer it without waking her fully. I slid my hand under her head, lifting it slowly as I placed the glass between her lips.
"Bella," I said, my voice soft now, "it's time for your medicine. You can go back to sleep as soon as you've taken this." I rubbed my thumb over her cheekbone.
Her eyelids quivered, then she opened her eyes fully. "Edward?" she rasped quietly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you, but you need to take this."
She gave a nod of consent, and I tipped the glass to administer the dosage. Her nose wrinkled at the taste, but she did not balk, swallowing the medicine obediently. I gave her half a glass of water when she was done. I lowered her head back to the pillow and began tucking the blanket around her shoulders again.
"Thank you," she said softly.
I gave a nod of acknowledgment then reached for the thermometer. "I want to check your temperature again. All right?"
"Yes," she whispered.
I slipped the small instrument into her mouth and pulled out my watch to check the time. I had thought she might return to slumber as soon as she had taken the quinine, but her eyes remained opened, watching me. Her expression seemed to be an interesting combination of curiosity, gratitude, and something I could not easily identify. I sensed no anxiety or fear, however.
We sat silently for perhaps half a minute before Bella's gaze flicked to the watch in my hand. It seemed she wished to ask me something. She lifted her hand to touch the watch face, then she glanced out the window.
"Do you want to know what time it is?" I asked.
She nodded.
"It's twelve minutes past noon." She seemed to expect more, so I added, "On Thursday."
Her eyes widened, and she began to open her mouth, but I pressed a gentle finger over her lips and shook my head in kind admonishment. "Not yet," I said. "Yes, it's Thursday."
This news appeared to cause her some distress. I heard her heart speed up, and a small crease appeared between her delicate, dark eyebrows. She must not have realized that she had been unconscious for a full day.
"I found you yesterday morning," I told her. "You were in the barn, Bella. You had fainted…" I decided to omit the more graphic details. "I've been taking care of you since then."
She was becoming visibly anxious, her eyes moving to the window repeatedly.
"Just another minute," I said, hoping to calm her. "Then you can ask me whatever you like."
Was she worried about the treatment she had received? Or was she experiencing some additional discomfort? Of course her leg hurt. I could administer another small dose of morphine with relative safety now that she was a little stronger… and she would need to eat, too—I would prepare something for her, perhaps broth…
I checked my watch again then removed the thermometer from her mouth. Her lips were very dry, but I could not help but notice how perfectly shaped they were. My eyes flicked to the thermometer, and a smile spread across my lips. Her fever was now 100.6.
"Your fever has come down," I began.
"Callie," she blurted out.
"Pardon me?" I asked.
"Callie, the cow. Have you milked her?"
Until this moment, I had almost forgotten that she owned a cow. "No," I replied. Yet even as I spoke, I could hear the animal lowing. I had been so focused upon Bella that the poor creature's sounds had not even registered with me.
"Oh, she must be miserable!" Bella pushed herself up onto her elbows and tried to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She only moved them a few inches before I stopped her.
"Bella!" I cried softly. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I have to milk Callie." She seemed on the verge of tears.
"Absolutely not. You need to remain in bed. You're still ill, and your leg needs time to heal."
"But—"
I stood. "I'll see to Callie."
She calmed immediately. "Oh, thank you, Edward."
"Promise me you won't move?" I requested.
She nodded. Satisfied that she was in no immediate danger, I hurried out to the barn. I paid little attention to the weather, aside from noting briefly that the rain was gone but the air was chilly. I would need to be certain that Bella was warm enough.
Callie was not a happy animal. She was very uncomfortable, and my initial efforts to alleviate her plight were not terribly successful. While I understood the anatomical structures well enough, I required repeated attempts to comprehend precisely how they functioned. Callie snorted, stomped, and mooed as I fumbled, trying not to cause her additional distress.
Finally my fingers found the right motions to extract the milk. I filled the pail beside her stall then stood from the low stool. She gave me a baleful look, probably grateful that I had eased her discomfort but displeased with my technique. I would have to ask Bella for pointers so that I could perform the task more smoothly the next time.
I gave Callie several generous scoops of oats, noting that the bag was nearly empty. Then I picked up the pail and went back inside. I set it on the kitchen window sill, where it would remain cool. Later I would prepare some tea for Bella and put a little milk in it.
Bella had managed to sit up, though her cheeks were flushed with the effort. Immediately she asked, "How is Callie?"
I rested my hand over her forehead to check that her fever had not increased. "She's feeling better now, I think."
"Thank you," she said again as I lightly pressed my fingers over her wrist. Her pulse was much steadier and somewhat stronger than it had been earlier in the day.
I gave her a smile. "It was no trouble. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner, although I'm not sure I would have been comfortable leaving you."
"How…" She paused to glance again at the items on the table. "How sick was I?"
"You were very ill," I replied, my expression sobering. "The wound on your leg was badly infected, and the bacteria spread throughout your body. It caused septicaemia."
Her mouth formed a little 'O'.
This news obviously surprised her. It seemed she had not realized how very sick she was. I wanted to ask her about this, to find out why she had not requested my help when she had the chance, but she was still very weak. This was a discussion for another time.
I continued gently, "And, while you are doing better, you aren't well yet. So I want you to rest and try to sleep some more. In a little while I'll prepare some tea for you, and perhaps some broth to help you regain your strength."
She nodded, and I helped her settle down on the pillow again. I needed to change the dressing on her leg within the next hour or so, but I decided to let her rest until then. In the meantime, I would try to prepare a light soup for her.
"I'm going to the kitchen," I told her. "I may have to leave for a few minutes, but I won't be gone long. If you need anything, just say my name; I'll hear you."
"All right," she replied quietly.
I walked out of her room, resisting the urge to glance back at her. In the kitchen I found some dried beans and rice, flour, sugar, honey, coffee, and tea. A trapdoor led to a small root cellar, where there were several half-empty bushels of apples, turnips, carrots, and onions. No wonder Bella was so slight; she subsisted on very little. I would see that this changed. A proper diet was important to maintaining good health, after all.
There was nothing I could use to prepare broth, so I slipped out the door and into the copse, where I caught a rabbit within a minute or so. I cleaned it before I returned to the house. While I was quick and neat, a few streaks of scarlet stained my hands. I felt I should remove this before I went inside again.
I walked around the back of the house to the pump, splashing water over my hands until my skin was clean. As I straightened, something bright caught my eye. The sun was reflecting off of a jagged a piece of glass propped up against the side of the building. Beneath it lay several smaller fragments. One had a thin, rust-colored smear across the sharp edge.
I bent to examine the glass. A faint but distinct aroma met my senses; the stain was Bella's blood. I realized now that she had replaced the broken window on the front of the house with the pane I had brought her. She must have dropped the old pane as she was removing it or carrying it away. I ran my finger along the edge, just beneath the blood, then lifted it to my mouth. I tasted traces of bacteria. This, I believed, was the instrument of her injury.
My chest felt heavy as I recalled her polite refusal of my offer to replace the glass for her. If only she had allowed me to do this small, insignificant task, she would be well and unscathed now.
I sighed and lowered my head, pinching the bridge of my nose for a few moments to calm myself. In those seconds, I vowed that I would not allow any harm to come to her again.
Returning to the kitchen, I busied myself in preparing the broth, listening to Bella's heartbeat and breathing as I worked. She was sleeping again, quite soundly it seemed. Once the meat was simmering in a large pot of water, I set the kettle on the stove to heat water for tea.
I made a weak brew, infusing the leaves for only half a minute. I added a scant spoonful of sugar and a larger spoonful of milk to the china cup I recalled seeing Bella use. I placed it on a saucer and carried it to her room.
I would let it cool while I attended to her leg. I debated whether or not I should wake her. I knew that the carbolic acid stung, particularly when first applied; I could recall feeling this pain a number of times as I treated patients with infected wounds. Now that she was past the deep unconsciousness of fever, the discomfort would certainly wake her, which could prove distressing.
I placed my hand upon her cheek and spoke her name several times. She stirred but did not awake fully.
"Bella," I said, bending to speak close to her ear, "I need to change the dressing on your leg. It's going to be uncomfortable, and for that I apologize."
She opened her eyes. Our faces were only inches apart. She inhaled slowly then smiled.
"You smell good," she murmured.
I knew I did, at least to humans. I moved back, dismissing the comment. There was no reason to draw her attention to my preternatural characteristics.
"How are you feeling?" I responded instead.
"A little better, I think."
"I'm glad to hear it. It's time to apply a fresh dressing to your leg." I folded back the covers.
Bella glanced down for just an instant then looked toward the window. "All right," she said softly.
I unwrapped the bandage and removed the dressing. The wound looked better. While the edges remained reddened, and some swelling persisted, it was improving gradually. I smelled no new infection.
I soaked a swab with carbolic acid solution. Bella watched my motions, her eyes upon the bottle and my hands.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Carbolic acid. It's quite effective in fighting infection, but it will sting when I apply it. I can give you some morphine if you like."
"Won't that make me sleepy?"
"Yes."
"No, thank you."
"Are you certain, Bella? A very small dose will dull the pain but shouldn't put you to sleep completely."
"I think I'd rather stay awake." She lifted her chin just a fraction of an inch.
The motion was utterly endearing. "All right," I agreed, pleased by her little show of spirit. "I'll work as quickly as I can."
She nodded, and I began swabbing the wound. Immediately she tensed, and her heart thrummed quickly in her chest. A little gasp escaped her.
"Just a few more seconds," I said.
Her breathing was ragged now. Concerned, I looked up. She was pallid and was beginning to perspire.
"Bella?" I questioned.
She closed her eyes tightly as her small hands gripped the edges of the mattress. "I'm all right… keep going."
I completed my task then placed a new dressing over the wound and wrapped a bandage around it. She was still breathing irregularly, and her heartbeat remained rapid. I disposed of the used items in an old cloth bag I had employed for the purpose, then reached for the vial of morphine and a syringe. I would not allow Bella to suffer a moment longer.
Her warm fingers wrapped around my wrist. "No… wait."
"Bella, you're in pain. There's no need for that."
I looked at her closely. She remained pale, but a hint of color was returning to her cheeks. Her heart was slowing, and she seemed to be breathing more evenly.
"No, it's all right. Just give me a moment. Please."
I waited, the vial and syringe still in my hands. After half a minute I set the items aside and took her wrist between my fingers. Her pulse was fairly steady.
She inhaled slowly then exhaled as a rosy blush spread over her cheeks. I realized that she was embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," she said with a small shake of her head.
"There's no need to apologize, Bella," I replied quickly. "If anyone should feel regret, it is I. I should have administered morphine before I treated your leg—"
"No, Edward, that's not it. It wasn't the pain that bothered me. Actually that's what kept me coherent."
I was confused. What had just happened? "I don't understand," I began.
She sighed and looked down at her hands, now clasped loosely in her lap. "It was the blood," she said quietly.
The wound had bled minimally when I swabbed it. "Do you have an adverse reaction to blood?" I asked, knowing that some humans became faint at the sight of it.
She nodded reticently. "The smell always makes me feel ill."
"The smell?" I repeated. "But humans can't smell blood."
She lifted her eyes to give me a brief, yet quizzical, look. "I can. It smells like salt and rust." Her lovely little nose wrinkled as she said it.
I was fascinated with this small bit of information. It was extraordinary for a human's olfactory system to be so sensitive. Then again, I was beginning to have the sense that Bella Swan was a rather extraordinary young woman. Suddenly a thought occurred to me.
"When you cut your leg," I said, "you must have had a very difficult time handling it."
She nodded but declined to provide details.
"The wound was caused by the window pane, wasn't it?" I asked.
She blinked at me in surprise. "How did you know that?"
"I saw the pieces outside. There was blood on one of them."
"Oh, of course. It fell on me when I was removing it."
"I wish you had permitted me to do that for you," I replied.
She shook her head. "I couldn't have imposed upon you like that."
"But I wanted to. I wouldn't have offered if I hadn't been sincere."
Her beautiful eyes studied my face for several seconds before she responded. "I hardly knew you. I still know very little about you."
I settled in the chair at her bedside and handed her the cup of tea. "What would you like to know?"
She took a sip, closing her eyes for a moment as the warm liquid passed down her throat. "Mmm," she murmured, then she looked up at me and asked pointedly, "How did you find me in the barn?"
This was a perfectly reasonable question. She had no idea that I had been watching over her, serving as her sentry during the long, dark nights. A plausible explanation came to me quickly, and it was, in part, the truth, which pleased me. For some reason, the idea of lying to her bothered me.
"When I brought you the blanket on Tuesday," I explained, "I thought you looked unwell. You told me you were fine, but I was worried. So I returned yesterday morning to be certain you were all right. That's when I found you."
"It was very kind of you to come back to check on me," she said, blushing anew.
"It was my pleasure, Bella, and I am so glad that I did." These words were absolutely honest.
She reached over to place her hand upon mine. "Thank you, Edward."
I responded with a smile.
"I suppose I should consider myself extremely fortunate that a doctor is my nearest neighbor," she said, her fingers curling around my hand.
"I believe it is I who have the good fortune to be your neighbor," I responded, stroking the soft skin on the back of her hand with my thumb.
She drank a little more tea, which pleased me. We were silent for a minute, but I could see that she was thinking; her brow furrowed prettily. She lowered the cup, and I set it on the side table for her.
"Are you planning to start a practice in town?" she asked.
I do not know why this question came as such a surprise to me; it was a perfectly logical query. But I faltered for a few moments, unsure what to tell her. Finally I settled on the truth once again.
"No," I replied, "not at this time."
"But you're such a skilled doctor," she protested mildly. "And there isn't one in Madras. The nearest one is in Bend…" Her voice trailed off, and a look of deep sadness washed over her face.
I recalled that the shopkeeper had mentioned this fact as she shared that Bella's father denied the need to travel to the larger town to consult the physician there.
"I'm not able to practice anymore," I said carefully.
"I don't understand…" She glanced down at her leg, obviously thinking that I had been perfectly capable of treating her.
"I was ill, Bella," I tried to explain. "I am still recovering, actually, and the demands of a practice would likely cause a relapse. I'm not able to consider that right now."
"Ill?" she repeated. "Is that why your hands are so cold?"
I cleared my throat to avoid the inappropriate chuckle threatening to erupt. "I have some circulatory issues," I replied.
"I'm sorry." She reached for my hands again, pressing them between her warm palms. "Have I made it worse?"
"Worse?" Her questions seemed to perplex me relentlessly today.
"You spent the last two days taking care of me, and I'm sure you barely slept—your eyes look tired." She lifted her hand to touch my cheekbone very lightly. "I'm so sorry I put you though that."
"It's fine, Bella. I'm used to staying away for long stretches. It doesn't bother me."
"But you should rest now. I'm feeling much better, and I'm sure I won't need anything for hours."
Her concern for me was touching, and I knew I would need to pretend to comply with her request for the sake of appearances.
"All right," I agreed.
"You can use my father's room," she said, "if you don't mind…"
I smelled a hint of salt and realized that tears were forming in her eyes. She was sending me to the bed in which her father had died.
"That will be fine," I said with a small yet grateful smile. "Thank you, Bella."
I helped her to lie down and get comfortable, tucking the blankets around her. Without thinking, I bent to kiss her forehead before I left.
"Rest well," I told her.
"You too."
I stopped in the kitchen to check the broth, making sure the fire was very low, then walked slowly toward the doorway beyond the small parlor. This was the one part of the house I had not been in, and I was curious to see what I might discover about Charles Swan, and possibly his daughter, by having a look in his room.
I closed the door but kept it ajar so that I could hear Bella as clearly as possible. The room was furnished simply, with a basic, iron-rail bed, a night table, and a chest of drawers. The furniture was the type sold in general stores: relatively sturdy but unadorned, the same as that in Bella's room.
A hand-sewn quilt covered the bed, the surface smooth and wrinkle-free. I visualized Bella's hands arranging the covering after her father's burial. I was sure her beautiful brown eyes had filled with tears as she completed this necessary task. How tragic that she had gone through the difficult time all alone.
Another photograph of Bella sat on the bedside table. She was older in this one, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, a very pretty young woman just emerging from childhood. An old, battered pocket watch sat on the table, too.
I eased open the top drawer in the dresser to find neatly folded clothing inside. Several well-worn cotton and wool work shirts and a pair of shabby denim trousers lay in the drawer. All were clean, and I imagined this was Bella's doing.
In the second drawer I found threadbare long underwear and undershirts, socks, and a nightshirt. These items were also laundered and arranged tidily.
The third, and final, drawer contained various papers, including the deed to the property; receipts for seeds, grain, and a few pieces of farm equipment; and a small stack of letters in the hand I now recognized as Bella's.
I reached for the envelopes but stopped myself. While I wanted to know as much about her as I could, I recognized that reading the letters she wrote to her father was an invasion of her privacy. I had stumbled across the first one, and I didn't regret opening it; I felt the information I had shared had helped to calm Bella. But the rest of her letters would remain untouched by my hand.
Atop the dresser were a comb and shaving equipment. A small mirror was mounted on the wall. For a moment I studied my reflection. Bella's observation about my eyes was correct, although the dusky smudges were not as pronounced as they might have been. Still, I had not fed in several days—nearly a week, now that I thought about it—and would probably need to hunt soon.
When I had been working at the hospital, Carlisle and I had hunted every third day. The frequency was precautionary, but we both felt it better to err on the side of caution, particularly on days when we performed several surgeries or treated certain types of wounds.
Abruptly it occurred to me that I had faced little difficulty with my exposure to Bella's blood, despite the alluring fragrance of it. In part, I supposed this was due to the infection, which affected her scent significantly. Still, her natural perfume remained beneath the surface, and now that she was beginning to recover it was growing stronger. Yet I felt little temptation. Perhaps I had simply suppressed it due to my anxiety over her condition.
I looked away from my image, lifting the comb to run it under my nose. I was curious about the cause of Mr. Swan's death. Part of it was professional interest, but I held a lingering worry about inherited conditions that could affect Bella in the future.
I smelled nothing unusual on the comb, but as I studied it I saw that it had been wiped clean; not even a fine bit of hair remained. I suspected that Bella had washed it after her father's demise. Again a feeling of sadness washed over me as I thought of her performing this small task alone.
There was little else to examine in the room, so I sat upon the bed listening to Bella's heartbeat and breathing for a long time. Eventually I went into the kitchen to remove the pot from the stove. The broth was ready, and I planned to give her a small bowlful as soon as she awakened.
While I knew that she still slept soundly, I could not resist walking silently into her room to rest my hand gently over her cheek. She was still slightly feverish, but her temperature was no higher than before. I wanted to check her lymph nodes again, but this would need to wait until she woke, as she would undoubtedly stir at my cool, probing touch. I did not wish to startle her.
I wandered back into the small parlor to look at the single bookshelf. There were several volumes of poetry—Keats, Tennyson, Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning, and Shelley—as well as three of Jane Austen's novels, two by Emily Bronte, and older works by Shakespeare and Bunyan. I recalled the satchel of books that Bella had carried on the train; she must have brought these with her.
I pulled The Pilgrim's Progress from the shelf and returned to Bella's room to settle in the chair at her side. I read until she began to stir, then I slipped out into the hallway. I ran a hand through my hair and rumpled my shirt before reentering her small chamber.
"Ah, you're awake," I greeted her, smiling languidly in my attempt to appear slightly drowsy.
"You, too," she replied, returning my smile. "But you still look tired and pale. How long did you sleep?"
Now it was necessary to lie. "I lay down just after I left you, so…" I consulted my watch. "Three hours."
"You need to sleep some more, Edward," she said, concern clear in her expression and tone.
"I will. How are you feeling?"
"Better, I suppose." She rubbed a hand over her cheek and studied a few strands of hair that hung over her shoulder.
She must be feeling grimy. She had been so ill, perspiring heavily, for over a day. Perhaps there was something I could do to help her feel just a bit better. I excused myself and hurried to the kitchen, where I heated some water then poured it into a pitcher. I carried it back to her room, setting it on the floor as I took the wash basin and soap from her dresser.
"I thought you might like to wash your hands and face," I said. "I've brought warm water."
Her eyes lit up. "Oh yes, thank you, Edward."
I set the basin beside her. I poured a little water over her hands then gave her the soap. After rinsing her hands, I helped her to pull back her hair, tying it with a ribbon, so that she could wash her face.
Once she had dried herself, she smiled up at me. "That feels better." She touched her hair again, her expression a little wistful. "I suppose this will have to wait."
"Would you like me to brush it for you?" I asked immediately.
She gave me a curious look then assented with a small nod. I untied the ribbon then got her hairbrush from the dresser. Her hair was matted, so I worked the brush gently through the strands. After a few minutes her hair was smoother and softer.
She ran a hand over it. "Thank you."
I felt that she was forever thanking me, and it was completely unnecessary. I was glad to do whatever I could for her.
"You're welcome," I replied, setting the brush on the dresser. I took the thermometer from my bag and held it out. "I should check your temperature again."
"Fine," she agreed, opening her mouth for me.
I stood and reached for the pitcher and basin. "I'll be back momentarily."
She nodded agreeably, touching the edge of her closed lips with her finger. The gesture made me grin; it was wonderful to see a bit of humor from her.
I emptied the water and ladled some broth into a bowl, retuning just in time to remove the thermometer. Her temperature was 100.2.
"Your fever hasn't risen," I informed her gently, "but your body is still fighting against the infection." I lifted my hands to her neck, where I felt the glands carefully, noting that they were not enlarged.
"I need to check under your arms, too," I said, folding back the blanket to her hips. She sat quietly while my fingers probed softly, squirming a bit when I reached the outer portion of her left axilla. "Is this tender?" I asked.
"No… I'm just a little ticklish." She smiled sheepishly as a hint of rose crept over her cheeks.
I smiled. "Ah, I see. That is, fortunately, not a terribly serious condition."
She giggled, undoubtedly relieved by my lighter tone. I moved my hand to hover over her abdomen, and she gave me a slight nod. With the lightest touch possible, I examined the peri-aortal and pelvic glands, pleased that the swelling had diminished. Her scent was purer, too. Her glorious fragrance came through above the smell of the infection in her blood. A tiny trace of venom tickled my throat, and I swallowed.
"Is it better?" she asked, her tone slightly anxious. I realized I had been immersed in my thoughts for too long.
"Oh," I replied quickly, "yes, quite a bit. However, I'd like you to continue with the quinine for a little while longer."
"Whatever you feel is best. You're the doctor." She gave me an inscrutable grin.
"What I feel is best now," I replied, feeling the need to do something entirely mundane, "is for you to take some broth."
"All right," she agreed.
I moved to sit near her shoulders then picked up the bowl and spoon. I fed her about half of the liquid before I saw signs of fatigue.
"I think that's enough for now," I said pleasantly, setting the bowl aside. "You need to rest some more."
"You, too," she said as she slid down to rest her head upon the pillow. "You're still so pale."
I administered the quinine then made sure she was comfortable. Again she told me that I needed to sleep, and I left her room wondering exactly when our roles had begun to shift and she had become my protector.
To be continued...
Wow, that was a long chapter! I hope no one minded. :)
I want to thank all those kind readers who have reviewed this story. Your feedback and support keep me posting!
