Relief quickly washed through her when she found his dressing clean. Gently, she touched his arm and he twitched in his sleep, causing her to gasp and jump back. Emma watched him regain his restful repose. She sighed deeply and smiled at her frayed nerves. Then she yawned and collapsed in the chair beside his bed.
Emma was exhausted and found herself nodding off in the uncomfortable chair. She did not want to leave her husband to go to bed, and not knowing what else to do, she climbed in the over-large bed and snuggled under the top cover, careful not to get too close to Thomas. Emma would not want to accidentally bump into his side and cause him unnecessary pain.
She let her head rest back on the soft pillows and listened to the sound of breathing coming from Thomas. It hit her then like a runaway coach; she was now married. Tonight was her wedding night. Turning her head to the side, she looked at her sleeping husband, and her heart soared.
As much as she’d fought him about the wedding and told him she wanted to travel back to America, she would have been miserable without him. Because her pride would have allowed no other option, she’d have gone if he’d agreed. Emma would have hated it, but she would have gone. Made a simple, quiet life for herself and become a spinster, a sad spinster. And all the love she had for Thomas would only have fueled the heroine’s love for the hero in her novels.
Thank you, God, she prayed because she was so glad to be lying in her husband’s bed with him beside her. It was not the wedding night she envisioned. But under the circumstances, she felt blessed because he had made it through his surgery.
Her lips curled into a smiled. Emma was positive Thomas had had other plans for this night. He would never have believed, that instead of spending it the way be had planned, he would be asleep, recovering from an appendectomy, with his wife lying at his side––fully clothed––on their wedding night.
An hour, maybe two went by as she listened to his even breathing and watched the rise and fall of his chest. His heart beat strong and constant. Her lids began to flutter closed while the soothing sound of his breathing lulled her into sleep.
Emma’s mind filled with dreams of her wedding night with Thomas. A night filled with sweet seduction, whispers in the dark of night, about love and devotion. Then hours entwined in each other’s arms making passionate love, cocooned in darkness, until the sun rose up in the sky bathing the room in warmth.
The bed shook over and over. Groaning sounds followed the shaking, steady and constant. Emma fought to open her eyes. Something inside her mind told her to wake up. It was important she wake up.
Now . . . wake up now!
Her eyes popped open as she sat up with a start and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Behind the drapes it looked like the sun was just coming up. Then everything about the previous day hit her at once.
When she locked her eyes on Thomas it caused her lungs to constrict and her heart to rise up in her throat. Scrambling out of the covers, she knelt beside her husband. Emma placed her hand to his forehead and shuddered at the intense heat coming off him. Sometime during the night fever had set in. His head tossed from side to side; he mumbled incoherent words.
She climbed off the bed, forcing her legs to hold her weight. She went to the washstand, wet a cloth, wrung it, returned to her husband, and gently placed it on his forehead. His hands rose up, fighting her.
“Shs, my love,” she cooed. “Relax and let me take care of you.”
A frown line appeared between his brows at the sound of her voice, until finally he rested his arms back down by his sides and took a labored breath.
Pulling the covers down to his waist, Emma inspected the bandage and cringed as her worst nightmare came true. Blood and a yellow liquid had seeped through his bandages. The metallic smell forced her to breathe through her mouth. Her brain screamed all sorts of questions. Should she change the bandage or wait for the doctor? Could she get him to take something for the pain? She had never nursed anyone before.
“Stop it,” she scolded herself. This was not the time to fall apart. She needed to be strong for Thomas.
Think, Emma, think. She took the bottle of laudanum off the bedside table and tried to get Thomas to swallow several drops. Some dripped down his chin, but she thought he swallowed a bit. Then she went to remove the bandage, but it was stuck to his skin with dried blood. Gently Emma pried it off, trying not to break the doctor’s stitches. Thomas hissed and moaned, but fortunately he didn’t use his hands to try and stop her or fight her off.
Wetting a clean cloth with water, she patted the area covered in blood. She did not know much about wounds, but she thought his looked good. Not angry, raised, or overly red––so why the fever? Just as she washed off the last of the blood the physician entered the room with Thomas’s mother following behind him.