Quickly he read the note Dr. Babcock had left about the opium, then pulled a chair close to the side of the bed. “Amanda... Amanda, if you can hear me, open your eyes.”
He got no response at first. Then she opened them slowly, blinking several times. The brown and gold flecks that used to glow in her hazel eyes had clouded, like river water after a storm. But she trained a focused gaze on him and seemed to be clear of mind.
Jackson found a smile for her. “It’s time for your medicine.” He lifted her shoulders and adjusted her pillow, then picked up the spoon and measured out a dose.
Amanda’s dry lips parted only slightly, but she didn’t resist as he slipped the spoon between them, save for a grimace at the taste. After a long moment, she swallowed the blessed drug.
“I brought you some broth. Do you think you can take some?”
She gave a slight shake of her head and mouthed the word ‘water.’
“All right.” Celia had sent a cup, too.
Jackson fed her the clear, cool liquid one spoonful at a time until she shook her head in refusal of more. She’d only drunk half, so he switched to the bowl. “I wish you’d take some broth.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Even as sick as she was, she hadn’t lost her stubborn streak.
“Just a little,” he coaxed, lifting the spoon. “You need fortification to heal.”
Amanda drank it, but slower this time, and she turned her face away after only a few sips.
Jackson ceased his coaxing and returned the bowl and spoon to the tray.
“Ch,” Amanda croaked. She cleared her throat. “Children?”
“Jewel is asleep in your chair, and Noah is helping Celia with chores.”
Amanda nodded faintly, her face placid and her eyelids drooping. Minutes later, she was sound asleep.
Jackson pulled the chair closer. He took her hand in his and sat motionless, hoping she’d recover, hoping the doctor was wrong.
“Missa Maguire,” Celia said softly from just outside the door, “I brought the children.”
A jolt of awareness shook him. Night had fallen. He’d been sitting there for hours. “Just a moment.”
Jackson squeezed Amanda’s hand. Her features had begun tightening in look of discomfort again, so maybe he could wake her. “Amanda, can you open your eyes?”
She did as he asked, but her gaze wandered, as if trying to make sense of her surroundings.
“Mandy, look at me,” he said, causing her to turn her head and focus. “The children are here to tell you goodnight.”
The tension left her face, and the corners of her mouth lifted.
“It’s all right,” he called to Celia. “You can bring them in.”
Jackson squatted down when Noah and Jewel peeked in the doorway and motioned for them to come. “Your mother’s belly hurts, and she’s very, very tired. Be gentle with her.”
“Yes, Papa,” they answered.
Jackson lifted Jewel onto the quilt next to Amanda then guided Noah to come stand in front of him, at the side of the bed.
“I wanted to come see you at lunch and supper, too,” Noah said, “but Miss Celia said we had to wait.”
“It’s all right,” Amanda replied in a weak voice.
He stood a little taller. “I helped Miss Celia do the chores.”
“I–” Amanda swallowed and moistened her lips. “I’m proud of you.”
