"Today?" Bobby asked when Melinda brought him his breakfast.
"Well," she hesitated. "Are you sure you're strong enough?"
He smiled. "I'm sure."
"And you promise you won't over do it?"
"I promise."
"Okay, then. But take it easy." She smiled back at him. "Doctor's orders."
He grinned and scratched at his fingers.
"Are you uncomfortable? I've heard the itchy dry skin is the worse part about the fever."
"It's purdy bothersome," Bobby agreed. "Never had my skin peel off like this before."
"I'll get you some butter."
"Butter?" He looked at his plate of food.
She smiled. "Not for your breakfast. For your skin," she explained. "Rub the butter into your hand s and feet and it will help with the itching."
"Well, don't that beat all? You learn somethin' new ev'ryday."
She nodded and started for the door.
"Wait," Bobby said.
She turned sharply on her heels. "What is it?" She supposed something else was wrong.
"If you have a few minutes, I'd like you to stay an' talk with me."
She looked at him evenly, trying not to smile.
"Please," he added.
She nodded slightly.
"Sit down," he prompted and patted the edge of the bed.
She sat down.
He took a bite of the scrambled eggs, chewed, and swallowed. "First, I would like to thank you for takin' care of me. I don't know what I would have done without you. I know the past week has been hard on you, an' if there's anything I can do to repay your kindness, you just let me know.
"And." He took a drink of his coffee. "I was wonderin' how Birdie was doin'."
"Not real good," Melinda admitted. "And the worst part about it is that we don't know what's wrong with her. I've got a few items to finish sewing for some townsfolk. I'm going to run out to the house and get those done. Then I'll deliver them and come back to stay with her until she gets better. Oh, and I'll go get Joey too. I was worried at first that Birdie was contagious, but she doesn't appear to be. And I'd really like to see my baby."
"Wouldn't mind seeing the little guy myself," he said. "You're a good lady, Miss Melinda, sacrificing' so much to help me an' yer sister." He broke a biscuit in half. "Red said you went to nursin' school?"
"Yes, I was right out of grammar school, just sixteen years old," she told him. "I was a good student as a child, always studying until I knew all the material perfectly." She smiled. "Birdie always hated it when I corrected her English. 'Ain't is not a word,' I'd tell her. She'd run and tell Daddy I was picking on her.
"I always liked helping people too. I'd go help nurse the kids around town when they were sick. An' Momma got so tired of me bringing home birds with broken wings, rabbits with torn ears. So I headed to the city one day. Daddy knew a doctor there. I studied for a year at a hospital in Houston.
"When I came home for a short break, Mother was quite ill. She tried not to let her pain show. She didn't want me to worry and then not go back to the city to finish my training. But I knew she was sick. I could tell. At the end, she got so bad that she had to take to the bed. I nursed her until she died. I wouldn't let Daddy or Birdie help. I considered it my duty. I was the nurse, not them. To this day, I don't know what was wrong with her.
"A few months later, Daddy was shoeing a horse—right out here in the corral." She pointed toward the window. "The feisty stallion bucked and kicked him in the head. He was blind for weeks. And then one morning I found him resting peacefully. He had passed away in the night. A cerebral hemorrhage, I figured. I never went back to the city. I didn't want to see any more suffering and death. I had seen enough in my own family to last a lifetime.
"About a year later, John was sent to this area. We met at church and ended up getting married." She laughed. "He told me that before he met me, he swore he'd never get married." She breathed in deeply and stood to her feet. She couldn't believe she had just told Bobby all of this. "And now if you'll excuse me," she said. "I best be going."
Bobby reached for her hand. "Take care," he said with feeling. He pressed his fingers against hers.
"And you take that advice, too," she warned. "Take care, and take it easy."
He nodded and let go of her hand. "I promise, Dr. Warren." He watched her go. He smiled and closed his eyes. "Definitely some kind of woman," he whispered.
Melinda examined the sky as she rode her horse homeward. Clouds were rolling in from the west. She hoped the rain would stay away long enough for her to get Shanlene's dress and Mr. Moffit's curtains delivered. It just wouldn't do to get them all soaked with rainwater.
She pushed open the back door to her house. She spied a plate covered with brown paper on the kitchen table. A note was tucked under the old china dish. The first word was in Joey's awkward writing, but someone had finished the letter for him. "Mommy," it read, "Here's you some sweets for when you get home. Come and see me soon. Love, Joey."
She smiled and unwrapped the plate. She broke a cookie in half and nibbled at the edges. Sister Lyla's specialty—pecan shortbread.
She tied on her apron and carried the kitchen bucket outside to the pump. She needed to wash her hands and get to work on Shalene's wedding gown as soon as possible. She had quite a bit of handwork to get finished before tomorrow morning.
After about an hour of stitching lace appliqués, her fingers were sore, and her back in even more pain. "Time for a break," she told herself.
Take your own advice, something inside her said. Take it easy. And then she recalled Bobby's words. "Take care."
I'm trying, she thought. But I've got to get this done today.
Take it easy, her mind warned her again.
She ate another pecan cookie. She really wanted a cup of strong coffee, but that meant starting a fire. And she didn't want to deal with that. She sipped at some water and rubbed her neck.
"How about a walk," she decided. "I haven't been able to stretch my legs for some time now."
The afternoon clouds were fairly thick, and the wind had picked up. But there was no sign of rain yet. "That's a good thing."
The wind played with her hair, tossing the long tresses about her face. She hadn't bothered putting her hair up for over a week now. "I must look horrible," she told a nearby blue jay. "I'm surprised Bobby Lester could even to stand to look at me while we talked this morning."
Her heart gave a little jump. She gasped. That was a feeling she had not experienced in a long time—not since John, she realized.
"How could I?" she wondered aloud. "John has only been gone a year."
You knew this time would someday come, she told herself. You even promised yourself a few weeks ago that you would let it come when it did. But now you cannot deal with it?
" I will not let myself have feelings for any man," she said. "It's too soon. And Bobby Lester is wanted by the law, anyway."
Despite her resistance to her feelings, she admitted to herself that she could use some companionship. She had Joey, but sometimes she desired more mature conversation, deeper sentiment than a three-year-old could offer. She visited town as much as possible in order to fulfill this need. But she realized that no one could take the place of her late husband. No one, even her sister, knew her as well as he had. And no one could ever love her like he had.
She felt guilty when she accepted a man's offer to come call. She would always cancel the engagement soon after accepting. She knew these feelings of guilt were unfounded. John would want her to find someone else. But she couldn't stop the unsettling twinge in her stomach.
She stopped at the fence that surrounded her half dozen apple trees. "They are coming along nicely. Soon we'll have apple juice, apple pie, and my favorite, apple fritters." She spotted a white webbed mass on one of the trees. "Oh, my. Looks like one of them has worms. I'll have to cut that branch off and burn it before the pests spread. I'll do that before I go back to town."
She did not look forward to sawing the tree limb. It would take a lot of strength, perhaps the strength of a man. A lot of things around here could use some work, she thought. Perhaps I should hire a man to take care of them.
Should you hire a man to be a father to Joey too? a voice inside her asked. He needs a father. She shook the thought away and left her post by the fence.
As she turned to head back to the house, she felt a twinge of pain in her neck. She told herself that it was simply soreness due to her work. But inside she knew it was something more. She breathed in deeply. There it was again, this time stronger and more remote. She swallowed. Now the pain was almost unbearable. Her throat had never been so sore.
"Well, if I'm going to get sick," she said, "I need to go get that dress finished. Maybe Red or Bobby could deliver it for me. And they could pick up Joey…" She stopped. If she had scarlet fever, she would not be able to see her son for perhaps a week or more.
She sighed, which only brought more physical pain. Her entire being ached—from the illness or her saddened heart, she could not tell.
As she walked toward the house, she noticed a buggy coming down the dirt drive. The driver spotted her upon his stopping the horses, and bounded toward her. It was Mr. McCanne.
"Miss Melinda," he called. "Good day, Miss Melinda."
"Hello, Mr. McCanne." Her throat burned as she talked.
"I heard you have had your hands quite full."
"Yes, yes, I have. I'm sorry I could not make our appointment last week. And I am sorry I did not contact you in order to cancel. I was much to busy."
"I understand," he said. "But if you would be so kind, may I call on you tonight?"
"Uh, I don't think that would be a good idea. I'm much too tired. And it's quite possible that I have contracted the scarlet fever. I should not expose you to it."
"I see. Perhaps at a later time when you get feeling better?"
"Perhaps."
"Then I will ride out next week sometime to see how you are faring."
"Very well."
Late in the afternoon, as she was sewing the last button on the dress, a wave of dizziness swept over her. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her throbbing head. She stood as quickly as she dared and folded the white gown neatly over the table. She shivered. It was so cold. Cold? Perhaps the rain had finally moved in. No, the clouds were thick, but there was no precipitation. She could even see the blue sky in the east. She closed her eyes slowly against the spinning world. She knew exactly why she was so cold.
"The fever," she whispered. She dragged herself up the staircase and collapsed on her bed.