She shivered a little and burrowed closer.
A comfortable silence fell between them as the swing gently creaked.
“Jackson?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you for everything. For being the man you are.”
He turned to her, his chest filled with tenderness and something deeper. “There's no need to thank me. You’ve endured a life not of your choosing, yet you’ve done so cheerfully and blessed me more than I deserve. I’m happy, Amanda, and I love you.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I truly love you.”
As he gazed at her moonlit face, Jackson’s heart swelled with such intense affection it nearly stole his breath. It was tinged by a memory of Caroline, but he forgave himself for the millionth time and let it go. He’d chosen the sister fate had allowed and committed himself to her for life.
Amanda yawned. “We should turn in soon.”
“We should,” he agreed, hoping she’d sit with him a little longer, and hoping he’d finally made peace with the past.
Jackson awoke to a crowing rooster and a quivering bed. “Amanda, are you crying?” She could be moody at times, but she hadn’t had a bout of sobs intense enough to shake the bed since Jewel was a tiny babe.
“A b-bird got in,” she muttered.
“What?” Jackson sat up, lit the lamp, and glanced around. “Where?”
“In the s-soup.”
Jackson picked up the lamp and shined it on his wife.
Amanda wasn’t crying. She was shivering, her body wracked with wave after wave of violent shudders. Her eyes were glazed, and her complexion pale—every inch of exposed skin speckled with perspiration.
He placed his hand on her forehead. It was hot—much too hot.
“Amanda,” he said, patting her cheek, “look at me.”
Her eyes moved in his direction but didn’t focus.
He patted her cheek again, keeping his expression neutral despite the rising fear inside. “Are you hurting? Is it your stomach? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“My stomach…” She looked past him, at the ceiling. “Catch the bird.”
There was no bird. Amanda was delirious.
He threw back the quilt and began yanking on his clothes. “I’m going to fetch the doctor. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“The children…”
“They’ll be all right. They’ll sleep for another hour, at least.” He leaned down close and locked gazes with her. “You hold on—do you hear me? Hold on until I get back.”
Chapter 9
Jackson blew out the lamp so she wouldn’t knock it over and start a fire while he was gone. Then he grabbed his boots and hurried in his stocking feet to the door, where he jammed his hat on his head and snatched his coat off the peg. He paused on the porch long enough to pull on his boots then raced for the barn and saddled his fastest horse.
Dawn had barely broken, but Jackson didn’t care. He pushed his mount into a gallop and took off for town. “Come on, Scout,” he urged as the bay raced down the road through the cold inky mist.
Frosty leaves crunched under Scout’s hooves, and gulps of frigid air burned Jackson’s lungs as low-hanging branches swatted his face and stung his cheeks. The horse slowed to a canter, and Jackson let him, even though it took every scrap of restraint he had not to urge him back to full run. He needed to get to town fast, and he wouldn’t make it if he rode his horse too hard.
A growl simmered from somewhere in the bushes.
Scout shied and stumbled.
