Felicity: An American Girl Romance, Part 1, Chapter 9: Felicity;s Journal

Once again, it's disclaimer time! I own nothing, this is not for profit. Only good (?) old-fashioned romance!

With a deep breath Ben Davidson opened the cover of Felicity Merriman's journal. A dried flower, a wild violet, was pressed between two pages, which made him smile a bit. The first page with words upon it said The Personal Diary of Felicity Naomi Merriman, as begun June 1,1775. He told himself he wasn't going to read each and every page-just the ones that had his name upon them. As if that would be the polite thing to do! His eye skimmed over sentences, looking for his name. Ah, here was something...

It was the entry about when he ran away last summer: '...and there I found Ben, looking wretched and injured, with his poor leg bleeding, and I wanted to hug him as much as I wanted to scold him for running away, the latter of which I did indeed, much to my satisfaction!' And indeed she had! He smiled again. His eyes skimmed on down the page. 'I do not want Ben to leave. I fear he will be killed and I will never see him again. My life would never be the same. In such a short time he has come to mean so much to me. He is as dear to me as a friend could ever be...' He was dear to her! And she did worry about him! His heart jumped. He glanced over her writings about Penny and Elizabeth, her grandfather, the sweet, girlish things about flowers and birds, the birth of Patriot and how happy she had been to share the foal's birth with him. Lessons with Ms. Manderly, the sorrow over losing her grandfather. Off and on he was mentioned in these, but not in the context he was looking for.

There was an entry about Mr. Haskall that caught his eye as well: '...he is a handsome young man, in his twenties I believe, which is much older than I, but he is nice to know and fascinating to talk to. I hope to see him again tomorrow!' Ben felt a hot spark of jelousy, then read the following entry about her immense disappointment at finding out that Haskall was a spy. '...and it saddens me to know he would've handed over his map of King's Creek as well! I am heart sick and angry, and if I ever set eyes upon him again I will not be able to keep from showing it! Ha! Ben thought victoriously. Take that, Haskall! Anxiously, he turned pages. There were entries about how annoying Bananbelle Cole was (he laughed out loud), her frustrations with sewing, and the beginning of her feeling sick. There he hesitated. And there he read the entry that would change his life forever:

'...and perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't feel this way. I cannot deny it or ignore it. I love Ben. I love Ben Davidson. With all my heart and soul I do. I love him so much it hurts, right down deep in the heart of me, where a body keeps its deepest secrets. I love him, and he is going to leave and be a soldier and be killed. He will be taken from me and never, never know how much I cared for him, how much my heart ached for him. He will never know how I am tormented into madness by nightmares of his death, each and every night. I dread the coming of night, for that means yet another violent situation where my brave, wonderful Ben is killed right in front of my eyes and I am forced to watch as if it is my punishment for loving a soldier. But I cannot stop loving him, even if I wished it and I do not! 'Tis not a fancy! I am NOT like Annabelle Cole, who makes a fool of herself in her tiresome quest to get Ben to notice her so she can snatch him for herself. She fancies him. I do not. Love when it is real is both a bliss and an agony, as it has been for me since the moment I realized I loved him. Will Annabelle miss and pine for him whilst he is gone? Nay, she will not! Will Annabelle pray to Almighty God for his safe return and endure many a sleepless night as I have already done? Nay, she will not! I have cried for ben, prayed for him, offered my life in exchange for his and he hasn't even left! I am so frightened for him! Even if he never knew my feelings for him I would trade that for his safe return. 'I do not assume Ben could love me back. I am not quite so bold as to believe he would. I am gangly and improper, I am unpretty and unladylike, my sewing is attrocious, and my baking is shameful. Nay, Ben would not have me even if I were closer his age. So I must bite my tongue and hold my peace and love him from inside myself. If I do not die from a broken heart then I shall die of grief if he is killed. Oh Ben, if you only knew how much I love you! 'But still, even if Ben knew I loved him, and even if he didn't mind, I know my love would not be enough to keep him safe here, with me.' Staring, Ben Davidson slowly lowered the book. His breathing had gotten rapid as he'd absorbed every word.

She loved him. Felicity Merriman loved him. Not as a brother. More than a friend. She loved him. And he had been the source of her horrible nightmares. Her worry for him, her concern for his very life while he would be away...he was why she sleepwalked. She was so afraid of losing him.
He was utterly, completely humbled. His heart went out to her, ached for her.

And she loved him.

It was more than he'd expected to find, but in that place she had written about-down deep inside where a body keeps its deepest secrets-it was exactly what he wnted to know.

He didn't read any more that night. He blew out the lantern and laid down in the dark, even though his eyes were still wide open with wonder. She loves me! And that thought did not seem strange or forbidden at all. He felt warm and happy with it. But she is so very ill now...a virus...she was so white, she hadn't woke at all...a raging fever. Please, God, don't take her away...let her live! I just found out she loves me...I must give her my response! It was quite some time before he fell asleep.

When Ben woke the next morning, he felt like all of yesterday had just been a dream. No one had come to rouse him from sleep, and Felicity's journal still lay next to him on his bed where he'd left it. Even before his eyes were fully open he was reaching for it, to read where she had wrote 'I love Ben Davidson'. He had to make sure he'd really seen that, that his eyes had not decieved him.

Felicity loves me! She loves ME!

But the brief flare of joy and wonder that fact gave him was immediately smothered by the fact that Felicity Merriman, the girl who loved him, was very ill and unconscious in the house at this moment. So he dressed quickly in his daily clothes, stuffed the journal into his inner coat pocket, and hurried to the house. Surely there would be news!

But there wasn't. Nan and William were seated at the table in the mini-kitchen, eating day-old biscuits and boiled eggs. William looked sleepy and Nan was quiet and worried. Rose offered him a tired smile as she handed him a plate of warm bacon and boiled eggs when he sat down across from the kids.

"How is she this morning, Rose?" he asked slowly, with anxious eyes.

Rose sighed heavily as she sat down beside William and Nan with a cup of coffee. "Bad, Ben. She's bad off. Fever hasn't broken. She won't wake up. I took turns with Mr. and Mrs. Merriman all night, watchin' her...she just won't wake up. She's as still as a china doll..." Rose shook her scarved head, and there were tears in her dark eyes.

Suddenly, Ben didn't feel like eating.

Nan's pink mouth twisted in her effort to keep from crying. "Why won't she wake up, Rose?"

"I don' know, child. Sometimes when a body gets very ill, it just needs to stay still and sleep awhile..." She sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

"Well Lissie hasn't slept well in a long time...because of her nightmares," Nan said (and Ben felt a sharp pang of guilt). "Do you think she's just needing to sleep?"

"I believe so, little one," Rose told her, and Ben could see that Nan believed her, for Rose held nothing back in her voice or expression. Why should she? Nan would've picked up on it easily if she had.

A weary-looking figure ambled into the mini-kitchen. Mr. Merriman looked deeply troubled and tired from lack of sleep as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He was still clad in yesterday's rumpled clothes. He rubbed the back of his neck and drank his coffee quietly.

"Sir?" Ben wasn't sure if his master felt like talking to anyone or not, especially after such an apparently long stressful night, but Ben was all but squirming for news. "How is she-Felicity-um, is she-"

"The same," Edward Merriman replied softly. He turned to Ben with a drained expression but a kind smile. "Thank you for asking, Ben. I don't suppose you and Marcus could handle the store by yourselves for a while this morning?"

Ben straightened immediately, all business. "Of course, sir. All day if you need us to, so that you could stay here, sir."

Mr. Merriman had poured another cup to take to his wife. As he passed Ben on the way out of the room he said gently, "You are a good lad, Ben Davidson. I just may need you to do that, at least until Dr. Sutton has returned."

Ben stared after him for a moment, wishing he could go see Felicity as well. Would they even let him see her? And what could he say or do to help her if they did? There was quiet in the little room now, aside from the dull thumps William made as he absently kicked the table leg.

"I best be gettin' back up there," Rose sighed, rising slowly. "Nan, be a good gentlewoman for your momma and keep watch over William, will you?" "I will, Rose," Nan said somberly.

Ben stared at his plate. How could he eat when so much worry and fear was pressing down on them all? The silence was awful. The depressing stillness downstairs was unbearable. He decided quickly to go open the store and get busy, for waiting any longer for news was maddening. He felt the gentle weight of Felicity's journal in his inner pocket as he rose from his seat and felt a sense of encouragement with it. He was carrying around her thoughts and feelings, and she loved him.

Felicity Merriman loved him.

He was feeling really good about knowing that, and hopeful that she would indeed wake up and recover, when he stopped just short of the entryway-Mr. Merriman and Mrs. Merriman were standing there at the foot of the stairs, holding one another, embracing tightly.

Ben gulped and stepped back, eyes wide.

"Oh Edward," Mrs. Merriman sried softly, her voice hardly audible from her husband's shoulder. "She's so pale! How can I give her the herbs when she will not wake up? Edward...we are losing her!"

NO! No, no, no!

Martha Merriman's soft sobs came anew, Mr. Merriman stroked her back and murmered something Ben couldn't catch, even strained to hear everything as he was. His mouth went dry with panic. His pulse had quickened considerably. They were believing Felicity was dying! No, surely not! She couldn't be! He clenched his fists at his sides. Felicity Merriman was a strong girl! She loved life and living! She would never give up without a fight!

"We must be strong, darling," Mr. Merriman said with an affectinate firmness. "As long as there is life in her..."

Exactly! Ben exclaimed in his thoughts. Fear had gripped him again and he faught to focus on hope. Felicity always had hope for others-could they not do the same for her?

There was a rapid knocking on the door. Mr. Merriman gave his wife's shoulders a squeeze, and with a deep breath, turned to answer it, as Martha quietly picked up her steaming cup of coffee and wearily headed back upstairs, not willing to face whoever had come.

"Morning, Edward," Dr. Sutton said quickly as he entered the house, removing his tricorn hat. With him was Dr. Galt. "Has she woken yet?"

"No," Mr. Merriman told them, shaking his head dismally. "Nor has the fever broken."

"Then we must see her right away," said Dr. Galt, tucking his hat under an arm. "Joseph and I have been consulting the books and we have decided on a course of action that we hope will..." His voice had become faded as the three men started upstairs, their shoes clomping on the steps, further preventing the eavesdropping apprentice from comprehending any more.

The doctors will help her. They have to, 'tis their job! Ben slowly emerged from around the wall, gazing up at the stairs as if expecting to see someone, but there was no one there. Muted voices and footsteps could be heard in Felicity's bedchamber above. What was going on up there now? They had to be helping her. They had to!

Ben sighed. He needed to go open the store and do his job. 'Twas expected of him. Lingering here any longer would not speed up the arrival of news. He could worry just as well at the store as he could here at the house. At the door he paused, looking at the ceiling where Felicity's bedchamber would be upstairs. Don't die, Lissie, he thought fearfully. Please wake up and...and tell me you love me. With a heavy heart, he left.

Ben found himself being a bit on the absent-minded side this morning, having measured out salt instead of sugar for one customer, and wrapping ribbons instead of tobacco for another. Even his quiet appologies were absent mumbles. It wasn't his usual absent-mindedness, though. He was gravely worried about Felicity, and now being away from the house was bearing heavily upon his nerves. At least at the house he could be near her.

Nearer to the girl that loved him.

As soon as the store was temporarily empty of customers, he took Felicity's journal out of his inner coat pocket and flipped through it, there at the counter. He was looking for where he'd left off, but instead got distracted by yet another entry that had his name dotted across the page:

'...so Elizabeth and I went walking out by Miller's Pond. There, much to our surprise and delight, were a gang of young boys, all jumping into the water and swimming and having great fun, splashing about. Oh how I wish we girls could go swimming on a day such as this! The boys looked like they were having a great time of it! Ben was among them, as was Walter Wheaton and three other lads I did not recognize, and they were all clad in nothing but their breeches. Elizabeth hid her eyes and went on about how improper it was to spy upon naked young men during their swim, but she was giggling quite a bit as she said as such, and I do believe there was a crack between her fingers for her to peep through! Besides, the boys were not naked, as they were in breeches, as I've said afore, and we were quite concealed in the shrubery, so we were unnoticed by the lads.
'But 'twas not the other boys my eyes were inclined to watch. My eyes are only for Ben, for he is the most handsome of boys, and his form is the finest! His arms are strong, and from lifting so many sacks of flour and oats at the store, no doubt! His shoulders are strong, too, and for such a skinny lad his musculature is like a fine sculpture! He will be a most fitting soldier! So tall, with such arms! He was completely soaked from head to foot from his swim with his long brown hair wet upon his shoulders, and I could not catch my breath, for he stood in the knee-high water laughing at someone with his hands upon his lean hips, seeming to me like a dahing, bare-chested young pirate! All he lacked was a long shiny sword at his side. How magnificent a lad my soldier-Ben is! Such a young Adonis! And I cannot help but feel unworthy, for I am still little, gangly, improper, unpretty Felicity Merriman, with awful red hair that will not stay put, who rides astride a horse and would rather be fishing than sewing. No wonder my Ben will never love me! He might actually start to like Bananabelle Cole, for though she is a snob, she is still pretty and I am not.
'And if Ben decides to court Annabelle Cole, then I shall jump into Miller's pond and drownd myself'

Wow! thought Ben wildly. She was there at the swimming hole watching us that day! And she thinks I'm handsome! Ohwowohwowohwow! Oh Lissie! Felicity Merriman, you sneaky little faerie! You sweet, wonderful, patriot girl! You beautiful-

"Hey Ben!" a cheerful voice called out, causing Ben to jump where he stood and nearly drop the journal. It was Walter, grinning most amusedly at him. "That must be some book you're reading, there, old man! What is it, one of those French naughty novels?" He wiggled his fingers mischieviously. "One of those adventure books about ladies of leisure? Lemme see it!"

"NO!" Ben blurted, hastily snatching Felicity's diary away from Walter's reach. He quickly stuffed it under a bolt of fabric under the counter. "It was just a-it's just a-it's my, um, journal."

Walter raised his eyebrows, his good-natured but goofy grin widening. "Oh, I see," he taunted lightly, not believing a word the stammering apprentice just said. "Why, you just looked so absolutely enthralled, I must assume you were re-reading your latest entry about the enchanting Annabelle Cole-"

"Will you shut up?" Ben growled, looking hotly annoyed. "It's none of your business what I was reading! What brings you by, anyway?"

"Oh, I was just out running errands for Mr. Ramsey." Walter's bright smile faded. "I wanted to know...you know, if it was true...that Felicity was bad ill?"

Ben stiffened and looked extremely worried. "Aye," he affirmed quietly. With a hint of suspicion, he asked, "How did you know?"

"Mother was in Galt's apothecary this morning when his apprentice said Galt was unavailable, something about having to assist Dr. Sutton with the Merriman girl, and, well, I knew she hadn't been feeling well-"

Ben stared at him, surprised. "You knew Felicity wasn't feeling well?"

"I figured that out at the social." Walter looked at Ben curiously. "You didn't know?"

"I suspected..." Ben heaved a troubled sigh. "But I didn't know she was this ill."

"That bad, huh?"

Ben nodded grimly.

"Well, now that Mother knows, all of Williamsburg will know by this evening, you know how she is. She'll be telling everyone to pray for Edward Merriman's pretty Felicity."

Ben felt a flash of stinging jelousy at Walter, a brief flare-up of annoyance. Walter Wheaton was a good friend, on the patriot side and very likeable, but his sudden interest in Felicity was beginning to irritate Ben very much. Once again, Ben thought of Felicity's written words, 'I love Ben Davidson', and couldn't help but feel smugly superior. If only Walter knew!

"Look, Ben," Walter began, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets awkwardly, "if you see Felicity later-if, maybe, you get the chance...will you tell her that my family is praying for her, and that...that I wish her well?"

Ben didn't realize just how hard he was glaring. "I don't know if I'll be seeing her or not. Mr. and Mrs. Merriman and their house servant are busy going in and out, tending to her."

Walter bit his bottom lip. "But if you do get a chance you will tell her, right?"

Blast it all, Walter! The girl's sick! And she's not interested in you, anyway. She loves ME! She said so in her diary! But Ben (reluctantly) sighed and mumbled, "Sure, Walt, I'll tell her if I can."

Walter grinned. "Thanks, Ben. I hope it will make her feel better, knowing that I'm thinking about her. See you later, then."

Ben frowned. As Walter left, he felt another knot of frustration and jelousy weighing like a rock in his chest. Why, he wouldn't say a word to Felicity about Walter's message if he got to see her! Why give her a chance to contemplate another boy's interest in her when she loved her soldier-Ben!

He was eagerly reaching for the journal again, to read more about her feelings for him, when the door's bell rang out loudly, and he had to control his disappointment and frustrations to assist the elderly fellow that had come in. But even as the old gent was going on about carved pipes, Ben's mind was wandering to where Felicity had commented about being impressed with his fine bare-chested physical appearance. He was ususally shy, but knowing all of this that came from the mind of Felicity Merriman had him smiling quite uncontrollably and feeling like quite the man, when his elderly customer interrupted his strutting thoughts to point out that Ben was showing him a lady's comb instead of the pipes he'd requested.

Ben Davidson did not get another chance to open Felicity's diary (though he did put it back into his inner coat pocket securely), for around noon, Mr. Merriman sauntered in, looking more forlorn than ever. Without a word, Mr. Merriman went straight back into his office and closed the door halfway. Ben and Marcus exchanged nervous looks, and Ben gathered up his courage to go to the door and gently knock.

"Sir?" When there was no reply, a cold streak of fear swept through him and despite a dry throat, he gulped. "Sir, may I come in?"

"Aye, Ben," came the glum reply. "Come in."

When Ben slowly pushed the door open, he saw his master sitting at his desk, hands rubbing his face as if trying to work circulation back into his cheeks. Ben had never seen him look more stressed or, much to Ben's alarm, frightened. And Edward Merriman rarely, if ever, showed signs of fear-one of the many things the young apprentice had always admired about his master. 'Twas Mr. Merriman, no doubt, that Felicity got her bravery from Ben had decided a while back.

"Is...is there any news, sir?"

Edward Merriman leaned back in his chair, hands dropping to his lap in exhaustion. He contemplated his apprentice's anxious, worried face, and for one, brief moment felt genuinely touched by the lad's pressing concern. But the reality of his eldest daughter's failing health came over his face like a pale shadow and he sighed with resignation.

"She will not wake up to take the herbs. She's weak and..." He swallowed with difficulty. "And getting weaker every few hours. Dr. Galt refuses to bleed her-it would...be the end of her." He rose and turned toward the window, rubbing his face again, but to conceal his sudden tear-filled eyes. A deadly silence filled the room, and Ben stared at the wooden floor as if the air had been knocked out of him.

"It-it just happened so fast, Ben," Mr. Merriman continued, his back still turned. "Joseph and Dr. Galt do not know what it is she has. Apparently, there are many kinds of fevers..." He cleared his throat in an effort to get a grip on his emotions. "But she's getting worse. We're losing her, Ben."

"No! She can't-but she-" Ben looked around, helpless, shocked. Horrified. "No, sir, Felicity can't die! She can't!"

Mr. Merriman breathed deeply. After a horrible moment of tense silence, he turned around. Tears glistened in his sad blue eyes. "Felicity wouldn't be the first child Martha and I have lost to an illness," he said, in as flat a tone as he could manage. Seeing Ben's utterly shocked face, he dropped back into his chair.

"Sir?" Ben gulped.

"Before Lissie, Martha and I had a son. Martha was very excited to have given me a son as our first child-she insisted that we name him after me. Edward Martin Merriman, Jr." He smiled a little, recalling his wife's enthusiasm. "And I, too, was so excited that I indulged her." He hesitated, looking lost in memory. "But he was only with us six months before...before fever took him from us."

Ben's mouth was moving, but it took him a moment to find his voice. "I-I'm sorry, sir."

Mr. Merriman nodded absently. "He's buried in the family cemetary at King's Creek. None of the other children know about him."

"N-Not even Felicity?" Ben asked in a hushed tone.

"No, not even Lissie. For Martha and myself, it used to be too painful to speak of, so we kept it just between us...and now you."

"But sir...why tell me?"

Mr. Merriman sighed again, as if all the weariness in the world had settled upon his shoulders. "I don't know, Ben...to speak of it, of little Edward now, with Lissie so close to death...We're told that not all of our children were meant to survive to be adults, that its just a part of life and the world we live in...but even when you've experienced the loss of a child, you're never really prepared for the loss of another." And with that he dropped his head into a hand and shook it mournfully.

Ben was reeling mentally. He, too, was struggling with his own fearful emotions. "I'm so sorry, sir, for your loss...but Felicity won't die. She won't leave us! She can't!" He whirled, fighting his raging sorrow, and strode out quickly. He heard the door bell ring out and was immediately grateful to have a customer to tend to. He wiped at his eyes and forced himself to be calm.

In a little while, Mr. Merriman emerged from his office looking no better, no worse, but announced the store would be closing early to the few surprised customers that were in there. Due to his eldest daughter's serious illness, he could not give his customers the attention they deserved, so he would be closing temporarily until further notice. The women in the store were kind and offered him their prayers, and left in hushed whispers. The men were understanding and left looking sympathetic.

When the store was empty Mr. Merriman turned to Ben and Marcus standing behind the counter, the both of them looking forlorn. "Let's go home now."

Neither Ben nor Mr. Merriman said anything on the walk home, and Marcus knew not what to say at all. The summer sun beat down upon them in the early afternoon, but none of them felt it. The grimness of Felicity's situation made tham feel cold and detatched from the rest of the world. They passed a small group of Virginia Continental soldiers, and Ben didn't even notice.

To make matters worse, upon arriving at the Merriman house, they noticed right away a familiar and bothersome figure standing at the front door talking to a greatly bothered-looking Rose, who being a colored house servant, could not express her irritation outright. She glanced up and saw Ben, Marcus and Mr. Merriman approaching and gave them a pleading look.

Mr. Merriman's expression turned hard. As he glared at Reginald Forsythe, he said kindly to Rose, "Rose, you look like you could use a good rest, so why don't you and Marcus go ahead and look after yourselves for awhile, and I'll handle our visitor."

"Thank you Mr. Merriman!" Rose exclaimed with an undeniable, irrepressible relief. She immediately turned from the door frame and followed Marcus into the house.

Reginald Forsythe raised his chin and stared at the heavily glaring Mr. Merriman and his brooding apprentice. He ddn't seem to be the slightest bit intimidated by their cold, unfriendly stares. Ben's breathing had become rapid with anger and Mr. Merriman had set his jaw.

"What do you want, Forsythe?" Mr. Merriman made a point of sounding intolerant and impatient. "Do bear in mind that I have no time or generosity for you anymore."

"You might when you hear what I have to say, Mr. Merriman," Forsythe replied in his quick, quirky manner. He tucked his tricorn hat under his left arm. "Upon hearing the news of your Felicity's illness, I have come fully prepared to offer you the services of Mama's personal physician and apothecary, Dr. Brunswick. He is the best in his area of study and has been attending Mama for years now." His thin lips spread in a smug smile. "He is the best."

"Oh really?" challenged Ben menacingly. "And just what do you expect in return, Forsythe, her hand in marrige?"

The young lord's chin came up a little more. "Say what you will, Mr. Davidson, but-" he looked directly at Mr. Merriman and drawled, "I assure you I have only Miss Felicity's best interest at heart."

"Sure you do." Ben folded his arms. "I'll wager anything you think you're gonna-"

"Ben," Mr. Merriman interjected stiffly, "will you please go on in and see how Felicity is doing?" When Ben hesitated uncertanly, glaring at Forsythe with eyes full of loathing, Mr. Merriman gave him a nudge. "Go on, Ben. 'Tis all right. I have the matter in hand." As Ben reluctantly passed, narrowed brown eyes locked with small glittering hazel ones. Forsythe smirked. Ben stepped inside, cursing to himself. But as he was closing the door, he hesitated and left it open the tiniest of cracks and put his ear to it.

"Mr. Forsythe," Mr. Merriman was saying sternly, "I've been made aware of your behavior at the summer social and your actions with my daughter when she collapsed yesterday."

Forsythe raised an eyebrow. "An honest account from your apprentice, no doubt," he muttered tightly.

One of Ben's fists clenched instinctively.

"My apprentice would not fabricate stories about such a thing. The point is that you've made yourself not only a nuisance to my daughter, but to the rest of us as well, and you refuse to let Felicity alone when I, her father, have specifically given you word to. I mean to appeal to your Aunt Lucinda, and the Committee of Safety if need be, to put a stop to your harassment, and believe me, Mr. Forsythe, the Committee does not look very kindly upon Loyalists!"

Forsythe blanched, but stood his ground. "Mr. Merriman, I have come here to offer my help and my services, wishing only to save Felicity's life by any means necessary, and I would think that, being her father, you would accept any and all resources available to you. Felicity is-she is important to me. She is among the few curteous souls I have encountered here since my arrival, and I am grateful for her kindness and friendship. Will you not accept my help?"

Mr. Merriman edged between Forsythe and the door, laying a hand upon the doorknob (Ben backed away some, but continued to strain to listen). "No, Forsythe, I won't. I cannot. You've proven yourself too untrustworthy. I don't trust your motives. And now, whether or not you will excuse me, I have a gravely ill daughter who may or may not already be dead!"

Ben bolted upstairs like an antsy squirrell as Mr. Merriman hastilly pushed in, then shut the door loudly. At the top of the stairs Ben panted, collected himself, then went to Felicity's bedchamber door. It was ajar, and there was silence within. That awful silence! His anger at Forsythe was quickly replaced by trembling fear for what he would see if he pushed the door on open. Don't be dead, Lissie. Please, please, please don't be dead! We need you. I need you! I need to hear you say you love me and I need to tell you that I-that I...oh Lissie!

He was peeping through the space in the door. There she was, lying in the middle of her bed, with a cold cloth upon her forehead. He couldn't see much of her closed eyelids, but what he could see of her face was as white as chalk. His heart fell heavily. Her crimson hair was fanned out upon the pillow, contrasting sharply with the white of the bedsheets and her skin. Her arms were motionless at her sides, and she was uncovered, being only in her thin shift. Her pale lips were parted, and he could hear her disturbing, raspy breathing.

But she was still breathing! Indeed, her chest rose and fell, but it was ever so slow. She lay there like a limp doll, as Rose had described her. It was an unsettling sight, rattling Ben Davidson from head to foot. Martha Merriman sat in a chair on the further side of the bed, eyes rimmed red from tears, face pale with worry for her daughter's life.

A heavy hand on Ben's right shoulder made him jump and gasp. It was Mr. Merriman, sans coat and hat. He peered past Ben into the room.

"She's still alive, sir," Ben breathed softly. "There is still hope!"

"But for how much longer, Ben?" Mr. Merriman's gaze went to his wearied wife. "Forsythe's gone. Nan and William are napping, and Rose has Polly. Go get something to eat, Ben. I need to be with Martha awhile." He moved past Ben into the room, further opening the door.

Mrs. Merriman rose and flew into her husband's arms. They hugged quietly, and Ben decided it best to let them alone. He spared Felicity a sad, wishful look and turned away.

Leaving the Merriman house, Lord Reggie Forsythe's brain was a mad whirl of questions, all about the best way to gain access to his angel. She was gravely ill. His help, which he had already concluded would've been he best available in these God-forsaken colonies, had been unexpectedly rejected by the girl's father, and he was thoroughly insulted. But he was not, by any means, willing to give up. He'd get to her somehow! If only he could get Mr. Merriman to see that he and Felicity got on well, that they were a perfect match! He had a good mind to send his Dr. Brunswick to Felicity anyway, and then they would see how deeply concerned he was for her!

Do not go and die, Felicity, he thought desperately. I need you to live, I need you to live for ME! We are destined... This he was sure of.

Dr. Sutton returned that evening alone, and Ben watched him climb the stairs after the wearied Mr. Merriman and his wife. Nan lowered her stitching a moment as she, too, listened to the hushed voices of the grown-ups as they headed upstairs. She exchanged a grim look with Ben. On the floor at Nan's feet, William was marching his wooden animals up their wooded plank and into the toy ark, totally oblivious.
A few minutes later, Mr. Merriman was back down, his face blank as he went for the mini-kitchen. Ben faught the instant urge to jump up and go after him, to ask about Felicity. The last thing he wanted was to become a pest, so he settled for knowing that if the worst had happened, everyone in the house would've known it by now. He slumped back into the chair, folded his arms, and stared at the floor unhappily.

How strange the Merriman household had become in the past twenty-four hours. Without Felicity's presence downstairs, the usual cheer and vibrancy seemed to have been sucked right out of the air. There was only silence and the blanket of fear weighing heavily upon everyone, threatening to suffocate them all. It was a cruel, mocking glimpse into how unbearable life would be without Felicity. It would be like all joy, all hope, all light would be snuffed out like a delicate candle's flame in a cold gust of wind. It would be a sadness none of them would be able to bear.

As Mr. Merriman came through the room with yet another cup of coffee, he met Dr. Sutton coming downstairs. The doctor looked quite uncomfortable. Ben just couldn't stay put-he rose immediately and stared at the doctor. His seventeen year old heart plummeted when he saw Sutton put a hand on Mr. Merriman's shoulder. "We've known each other a long time, Edward," Sutton sighed stressfuly. "So you know that I would never be anything but honest with you."

Mr. Merriman nodded slowly, knowing this indeed to be true. Ben held his breath.

"Your daughter's fever does not show any signs of breaking. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical. If she does not wake within that time..." He trailed off, leaving the obvious unspoken but well understood. He inhaled deeply. "I think you should... prepare yourselves."

Ben gaped, looking very much like he'd just been shot in the gut with a pistol. Nan burst into quiet tears, and William stopped playing to stare at her. Mr. Merriman swallowed hard and nodded again, even slower. When he spoke, his voice was thick and clogged with emotion. "I see. Thank you, Joe."

Dr. Sutton looked sympathetic. "I will be back tomorrow."

Ben strode to the bottom of the stairs and stared up. No one was there, which for a moment startled him, but he clenched his fists at his sides and said, "Felicity is not going to die! She's not!"

"Ben..." Mr. Merriman began softly, but Ben didn't want to hear it. He clomped upstairs determinedly. He had to see Felicity! Mrs. Merriman had to let him. He was her friend, surely they wouldn't object! But he had to see her, he had to let her know he was there and that he wanted her to live and that.

That he loved her.

It was important, now more than ever. Nothing else mattered. Not the war, not age, not anyone else's opinion. Not Forsythe and not Walter Wheaton. Only Felicity.

CHAPTER 9 DONE!