Chapter Twenty-Five
By the time Alexandra got a spare moment to leave her aunt’s bedside, she was so tired that shadows crowded in around the edges of her vision.
She stumbled on the stairs, fatigue making her clumsy, and she caught herself on the banister.
She clutched it tightly for a moment, taking a deep breath and willing herself to be steady.
Right, that’s enough of that. Get it together, Drina, she ordered herself. She could almost hear her aunt’s voice saying those exact words, which made her smile sadly.
When Alexandra had returned to her bedside the previous afternoon, Lisa had fallen into a sleep so still that it was almost death-like. Her face had grown so pale as to be almost translucent, especially against her dark hair. Her eyes were sunken, her normally thin cheeks hollowed.
Sometimes, Alexandra could see slivers of her dark eyes when she forced her upright to give her medication or coax broth down her throat.
Though she was loath to do so, Alexandra had resorted to Dr. Bruin’s vial of ipecac.
She knew that doctors swore that purging the patient was an important step in fighting the disease, but watching her aunt suffer additionally was more than she could stand.
She held tightly to her as her already exhausted body retched and purged everything within.
I wonder if this will go the way of leeches, Alexandra thought.
It was hard to imagine a treatment so harsh would do anyone any good, ever, but she deferred to the doctor’s wisdom.
She measured out the next dose anyway. There was nothing else in the house to give her, and hoping only that it wouldn’t take strength her aunt could not spare was not the same as helping.
Alexandra pushed away the memory of how thin her aunt had felt. She took a deep breath and finished coming down the stairs. Already, she was mentally preparing a list of things that still needed seeing to in the house: the children, meals, cleaning, mending, not to mention the outdoor chores…
Still, it wasn’t fair to take her exhaustion out on the children. She could hear them downstairs, speaking softly. That brought a weary smile to her face; they were making an effort to be quiet so they wouldn’t wake Lisa.
“No,” Danny said just as Alexandra’s foot came off the last stair. He was sitting on the floor, with Bella and Gary arrayed around him. “You’ve got to add both numbers—like this,” he said.
Alexandra could only see the tops of their heads over the sofa through the doorway of the sitting room. Trying not to step on any creaky floorboards, she crept closer to see what they were doing.
Danny had his school slate out and was evidently attempting to teach them how to add two-digit figures. He was explaining the principle to them, going slowly. When they got it wrong, he didn’t scold or yell—he just erased the chalk with his sleeve and had them try again.
She thought her heart might burst from pride. These were not the same children that she had met her first day on the ranch.
They’re growing up, she thought, and her heart squeezed. Lisa would be so proud of them.
Tears stung her eyes. She turned away quickly, not wanting them to see her upset. They’d had more than enough emotional turmoil over the last few days. Alexandra wandered into the kitchen, then out toward the garden.
The sunshine felt good on her skin after the dark bleakness of her aunt’s room. She breathed in the smell of things growing in the heat. Lifting the ends of her apron, she formed an improvised basket and began to pull up some onions that looked ready.
She didn’t know how long she’d been out in the garden; time had lost much of its meaning.
She cooked when the children began to complain of being hungry, and slept whenever she was too tired to stay awake.
She could have been pulling up onions for fifteen minutes or an hour, or not at all; there were only four in her apron so far.
“What’re you doing out here?” Aidan asked.
Alexandra turned to him, her eyes scratchy with fatigue. He was standing outside the picket garden fence, glaring at her.
“Picking onions?” she replied, unsure in her fatigue if she actually was.
She glanced down at her apron again to confirm that yes, there were indeed onions there.
“The children have done such a good job weeding the garden,” she continued, smiling vaguely.
“It seems a shame to let all their hard work go to waste.”
“Someone else can do that,” Aidan insisted, his hands gripping the fence.
“I can do it,” Alexandra said. She bent to tug up another onion, but when she stood up, the world spun strangely, the sky sideways and her feet out from under her. Her vision darkened, and everything was reduced to sound and distant feeling.
Dimly, she could hear voices, concerned ones. Then there was a sensation of being lifted, and Aidan’s familiar smell of leather, horse, and something distinctly him. It was pleasant, and she instinctively turned her face into him.
The next thing she was aware of was that she was stretched out, and someone was pulling her boots off.
She tried weakly to protest, fighting to sit up, though her vision was still cloudy, but someone forced her back down by her shoulder.
A cool rag was applied to her forehead, making her hum with appreciation and stanching her attempts to rise.
“Here, Mrs. Alexandra,” a small voice said quite near her ear. She forced an eye open just enough to see Gary standing there, a cup of water in his hand. He watched her with wide, anxious eyes.
She tried again to sit up enough to drink, and found a strong arm supporting her.
She looked up and found Aidan crouching over her, his face creased with worry.
He encouraged her to drink, taking the cup from Gary and placing it against her lips.
She accepted it, and she could feel the cold water running all the way from her throat to her stomach.
“Slow, now,” Aidan said, his deep voice a rumble close to her ear.
Alexandra obeyed, too tired to argue. She had another small sip, and then lay back down.
Her vision cleared bit by bit, and she blinked around the room.
The children were gathered around the sofa, and Aidan was kneeling by her head.
All of them were staring at her. It was the same arrangement of faces that had gathered around Lisa on the hill.
Looking at Aidan, Alexandra understood he had been made to watch this twice in a week.
“I’m fine,” she managed to croak. She tried again to sit up, but Aidan’s firm hand on her shoulder waylaid her.
“No—you stay still now. The rest of us can manage things for a while,” he ordered. “I don’t need both you and your aunt laid up.”
“I’ll be fine; I just got overwhelmed by the heat,” Alexandra argued.
“No, you didn’t,” Aidan said flatly. “You’ve been taking care of everything but yourself. When’s the last time you ate?”
Alexandra started to answer, then stopped. She couldn’t exactly recall, mostly because she wasn’t entirely sure what day it even was.
Aidan gave her a purse-lipped look of triumph. “See?” he said. “Just rest.”
“But—” Alexandra began.
“No,” Aidan said emphatically. “You are running yourself ragged here. You’re going to take ill from exhaustion or the vapors or what have you, and then what good will you be to anyone?”
“Fine,” Alexandra grumbled. She made a show of settling into the sofa.
“Danny, you go and finish picking the vegetables in the garden,” Aidan ordered. “I’ll need them in the kitchen straight away.”
Danny stared at Aidan. “You’re not actually going to cook, are you?”
Aidan pointed in the direction of the door. “Go on,” he said.
Danny gave Aidan a wary look, but went ahead and did as he said.
Aidan turned to the rest of the children in the living room. “Gary, you stay here and watch her—if she starts to get up, you call me right away.”
“Yes, sir,” Gary said, his face solemn. He sat down on the armchair, his eyes fixed on Alexandra and his arms folded sternly.
“Bella, you come and give me a hand in the kitchen,” Aidan said.
“Dinner!” Alexandra said, bolting upright. “I need to tend to dinner. The soup’s on the stove, and—”
“Woman,” Aidan said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I swear you are going to drive me distracted.” He dropped his hand and glared at her. “I really feel confident I can finish soup.”
“I know how to boil eggs!” Bella added helpfully.
“See there,” Aidan said triumphantly. “Wait, what?” He turned to Bella. “Since when?”
“Since Mrs. Alexandra taught me,” Bella explained smugly. “So I can make sure you do a good job in the kitchen.”
Aidan threw up his hands. “You all act like I didn’t keep you fed before. I know perfectly well what I’m doing in the kitchen.”
“I’m sure you do,” Alexandra said soothingly.
This seemed to satisfy Aidan, who marched confidently into the kitchen. Bella started to follow after him, but Alexandra caught her by the arm.
“Don’t let him near the garlic,” she whispered urgently. “He’ll kill us all with how much he puts in.” Alexandra thought for a moment. “Or the mustard.”
Bella nodded gravely. “I’ll go hide them right now,” she promised.
Alexandra settled back against the arm of the sofa, reasonably sure that dinner would at least be edible.
She stared up at the ceiling, counting the beams and bare planks that ran across it.
Before she’d moved, she’d lived in a house with a white plastered ceiling, and even little moldings in the corners.
It was old, as old as the city itself, and crammed with comforts and history.
This house was different in every way. It was deceptively new; the wood hadn’t even begun to fade in some spots.
It had been built up in defiance of the harsh environment, nailed together by sweat and the hope of prosperity.
The ranch house was stark and practical; any nods to comfort were what they could spare.
She ran her hand over the cowhide rug on the floor, smoothing it down. The hair tickled the back of her fingers.
This cow was once alive, she thought. Someone raised it, likely on this very ranch; it lived, then died, fed the people here, and now it keeps us warm and comfortable.
It was the sort of life one lived out here. There wasn’t much room for softness or sentiment, not when so much was at stake.
She turned her head as far as she could, to see the doorway to the kitchen from the corner of her eye.
She caught glimpses of Aidan as he moved about, his shadow falling across the floor.
His sleeves were rolled up again, and he’d pulled his suspenders off, which had left sweaty creases on his shirt.
All of the weeks of hard words and harder looks, the endless criticisms and disappointment from Aidan looked different to her now.
It wasn’t until Lisa was sick, without access to a hospital, that Alexandra understood exactly how precarious life was out here.
Discovering the ranch’s financial state had only cemented that knowledge.
In Philadelphia, if their bookshop had failed, Alexandra and Lisa would find other employment, maybe even open up a new store. There was no such option here; there was no safety or security beyond what they could dig out for themselves.
She couldn’t say that it was the best approach, constantly picking at her, but she at last felt like she understood his motivation. He didn’t dislike her; he was simply a man in pain. He didn’t know how to communicate with her, how to be soft.
Alexandra bit her lip, turning her head back around to lie more comfortably. Gary, her little sentinel, sat forward when she moved, but settled back once Alexandra was still again. She smiled at him, and patted the small space on the sofa next to her legs, scooting to make more room for him.
Gary came and sat next to her willingly, and she reached up and absently stroked his hair as her thoughts drifted.
Her eyes fell closed, soothed by his presence and the comforting smells and sounds of home.
Despite her anxieties about Lisa, being surrounded by the children and her husband (that thought had her eyes flying back open for a second) was like a balm on her raw feelings.
He had kissed her in the yard where anyone might have seen. Then he had said nothing at all. Then he carried her into the house, pulled her boots off, and held a cup to her mouth. She turned the three of them over and could not make them into a sentence.
Though Aidan hadn’t answered her lingering question as to the nature of their relationship, he had taken great pains to care for her. It was entirely possible she wouldn’t get a verbal answer—she suspected that his actions would speak for him.
This house, and the people in it, they’re my bulwark against the world, she thought drowsily as she slipped in and out of wakefulness. Let Kevin Black try to breach it, if he can.
She had thought it bravely. Then she remembered him on the front step with his hat in his hand, asking after her husband as though the word were a joke he was letting her in on. Alexandra slept badly.