Chapter 9 #3
Noah placed his hand on his mother’s arm as if it were made of glass and patted gently. “I’ll bring one of the kittens when I visit tomorrow. They aways make me feel better.”
“I’d like that.”
He twisted his body around and looked up. “Mama’s cold. Do you want me to add a log?”
“No,” Jackson said in a voice as rough as his wife’s. “I’ll do it.”
Noah turned back to his mother. “Miss Celia said I should include you in my prayers tonight, but she didn’t wait. She’s been praying all day.”
Celia came and stood at the foot of the bed. “I’ve been prayin’ for you, Mrs. Maguire—beseeching the Almighty at the top of my voice, ‘cause I don’t have to whisper under the kettle no more. You just rest now. I’ll look after your babies for you.”
Amanda’s lips curved into a weak-but-grateful smile. “Thank you.” She looked as if she wanted to say more but didn’t have the energy.
“Noah... Jewel,” Jackson said, “it’s time to go to bed. Kiss your mother goodnight.”
Noah leaned over and planted a kiss on Amanda’s forehead. “Goodnight, Mama.”
“’Night,” Jewel said, giving Amanda a smooch that left a damp circle on her cheek.
Amanda’s smile gained strength, and moisture gathered in her eyes. “I love you both.”
Celia set a full cup of water on the nightstand and took up the tray. “Would you like more broth?”
Jackson looked to Amanda, who moved her head back and forth on the pillow in a weak but clear gesture of denial.
“Fresh linens?”
Jackson wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to expose Amanda to check with the children there. “There’s a clean set in the bureau if we need them.”
“Very well. I’ll leave you be unless you call for help. Come, Noah and Jewel. Come with Celia. It’s time to wash your faces and put your nightclothes on.”
A sudden rush of guilt wilted Jackson’s frame. The rising moon would be a crescent. It wouldn’t cast enough light to guide a horse, much less a carriage. Celia would be forced to stay the night. “I wish I had a spare bed to offer.”
“Don’t you worry ‘bout me one bit. I’ll find a place to light. And don’t you hesitate to wake me, neither.”
“I’ll go stable your horse.”
“No need. Noah already helped me with that.”
“Thank you for staying.” He rued the inadequacy of the words, yet meant them with all his heart. “Goodnight,” he added as she left and the children followed her out.
Jackson closed the door. When he returned to Amanda’s side, her brow was twisted in a look of pure agony. He’d hoped to spend some time talking, once they were alone, but that wasn’t to be.
He gave her more medicine and a few spoonsful of water then brushed the stray locks from her forehead. Disease had dulled her eyes and her complexion, but not her hair. Brilliant strands of copper and gold still shot the brown through and glowed in the lamplight.
Jackson waited till Amanda’s brow unknotted itself before attempting to move her.
He rolled her as the doctor had and checked the state of the sheets and her gown.
Still dry. Her skin had a papery feel, and it was cooler than it should be.
Not cold, but also not filled with the warm glow of health.
He pulled the quilt up over her shoulders, tossed a couple of logs onto the fire, and sank onto the chair.
The rich, resonant tone of Celia’s voice carried past the walls of the children’s room as she helped them say their prayers and tucked them in their beds.
“Lay still now and close your eyes,” she told them then hummed a tune that morphed into song.
“Swing lowww, sweet charrrriot... comin’ for to carry me home.
Swing lowww, sweet charrrriot. Comin’ for to carry me home… ”
Amanda drifted into something that looked like sleep, but it wasn’t rest. Her cheeks grew pallid, and her lids twitched beneath a furrowed brow.
Jackson leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. He sensed the distance between them growing.
He withdrew Amanda’s hand from beneath the quilt to keep her with him.
To feel some sort of connection. As he lifted it and clasped it between both of his, the lamp illuminated her fingers.
Their tips had looked as if they were smudged with ash when she’d visited with the children. Now they’d darkened to black.
Jackson held on tighter, though he knew the act was in vain. Nothing this side of heaven could save her.
He prayed, or tried to. Every time he found the words, they’d turn to sand in his mouth. He wasn't angry at God anymore. Just bewildered.
Not knowing what else to do, Jackson sat mute in the silent house, his body numb and his mind adrift.
He thought about the past and the future.
.. about the strides they’d both made, overcoming the grievous things that haunted them.
.. the addition to the house he and Amanda had talked of building come spring. .. the quilt she’d never finish.
The precious children she’d never get to raise.
He’d nearly choked on the words when he told Noah and Jewel to kiss her goodnight, knowing in his heart, if not his mind, it would likely be the last time they’d see her alive.
They were still so small. He feared they’d forget her.
Worse, he feared he would, too.
Not in the sense of her existence—he would carry Amanda in his soul until his final day—but he feared his memory of her image would fade.
For the next hour, at least, he studied every curve of her face, every freckle, every flutter of her lashes against her cheek.
He was determined to sear Amanda’s beauty like a brand onto his mind.
Sometime in the still of the wee hours, signs of torment invaded her features, and she began to whimper in pain. Jackson caressed the side of her face and called her name. He didn’t want her to suffer, but he wanted to wake her long enough that he could tell her things he needed to say.
He smiled when she opened her eyes. “Hello, Mandy.”
She tried to return his smile, but the pain would hardly let her.
“Are you hungry?”
She gave a small shake of her head.
“Thirsty?” She had to be. Her lips were so dry they were cracked.
“No.”
“You can’t get well if you don’t eat.”
“Jackson…” She saw right through his flimsy misrepresentation, and it made his eyes sting and his throat close up.
He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I don’t want you to leave me,” he blurted, nearly breaking down.
“I don’t want to go. But God’s ways are not our ways.”
“There are so many things I want to tell you—how beautiful you are to me, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled, and somehow, she smiled in the midst of her agony. “You tried your best to give me your heart, but it will always beat for Caroline.”
“I–”
“Shh. It’s all right. You saved me from ruin and gave me a good life. Now it’s time for you to live yours.”
Amanda clutched her abdomen and clenched her jaw around a groan.
Jackson grabbed the bottle of medicine and measured out a dose, nearly spilling it in his haste. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She swallowed it, and, in time, her features began to smooth.
Jackson moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He leaned down and framed Amanda’s face with his hands, as if he held a fragile flower. Then he touched his lips to hers and lingered, relishing the moment and hoping she’d feel him kiss her one last time before the opium pulled her back under.
Her hand lay atop the quilt, fingers curled slightly inward and growing darker still.
He held it until it went slack. Then he just looked at it. Looked at her. He sat there, oblivious to time, as she left the world they had built together, breath by breath.
The clock had stopped ticking. Amanda hadn’t wound it, and he didn’t want to. The rise of her chest was barely visible anymore. He watched her as one might watch the last glow in the hearth—knowing it would go out, but not knowing when that moment would be.
With trembling hands, Jackson removed his boots and set them quietly on the floor. He slid beneath the quilt and scooted closer, until he lay beside his precious wife. Her skin was cool, but her warmth still clung to the sheets.
He didn’t touch her at first. Just stared at a few strands of hair curled and resting at her temple.
Then he folded himself around her and tucked his face into the hollow of her neck.
His next breath filled his lungs with the odors of jasmine and sun-dried cotton.
He’d come to crave Amanda’s scent, and it broke his heart that this was the last time he would ever feel its comfort.
The first sob came silent and sudden. Then they tore from him like a raging flood bursting from a dam. He didn’t care if she heard him. He hoped she did. Then maybe she would know how much he loved her.