Mr. Smith and Mr. Harper moved out of Will’s line of vision, and suddenly Ann was the only one left beside him. As though she could feel his longing to have her near, she drew closer and took his hand again.
“I’m not sure how you can stand to touch me,” he mumbled.
“It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” She glanced around the room.
“Ah.” His voice was raspy and slow. “So I am just another patient, then? And you help them all ... feel better ... with such comfort?”
Despite his pained speech, he still had a little energy for humor.
“Not hardly.” She laughed under her breath. “You probably ought to get some rest. I was hoping the smallpox would just magically disappear after the blessing, but alas the marks are still there.”
He thought for a moment, swallowed, and drew a breath. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but the words he said—do you believe them?”
Something deep moved in the oceans of Ann’s eyes. Something strong and hopeful and firm. “I do,” she whispered. “Every sentence. I believe the words, Will. Not just because I am hopeful, but because of what I felt. IknowGod has a plan for you.” She squeezed his hand. “I know the words of a blessing can be fulfilled! I know that you had questions after the sermon, and I know I’ve had my own doubts, but I’ve been turning to God, seeking His answers. I know now that God loves us and wants us help in His work, even when we are imperfect. He still needs me, and He needs you, and I hope that you realize that.”
It was a bolder speech than he expected, but he loved her for it. Her words felt like a salve that healed the aching parts inside of him. He wished he could sit up and take her in his arms and hold her beautiful head to his chest. But he was too sick, too covered in sores, and too weak to move.
“I ... do realize it,” he managed in a raspy whisper. A heavy weight pulled at him then. He’d doled out so much energy to speak and to make it through the blessing and to keep his eyes open for so long.
“Sleep now,” Ann said quietly, patting his shirtsleeve.
He obeyed, but not before telling God just how much he now believed in Him.
Chapter 30
April 3, 1854
41 days at sea
Ann worked through the nighttending to sick patients. Nineteen now lay in the sick bay, including one of the sailors and the newest addition of little Levi Davies. For most of the last hour, she’d sat by the boy’s makeshift cot, trying to tell him stories to take his mind off the fever, but he finally slept now. The sores hadn’t manifested on his skin, yet, but his fever caused him fits, and Ann feared for the worst. At least little Rhuben had been spared thus far.
Job and Brother Harper had laid their hands on every person in the room that hadn’t had a blessing. She hadn’t witnessed any instantaneous miracles, but she prayed that it would mean less would die, even if they did have to suffer through the ravaging disease.
But in the way of miracles, theyhadmade up time as far as the sailing went. Everyone was talking about how they’d sailed one thousand miles in the past five days. That was the hope Ann clung to, even though Will hadn’t been healed.
It had been an especially grueling few days for the other women in the sick bay: strong Daisy and sweet Judith. Dr. Rowley had just dismissed Daisy to rest in the adjacent room. When she returned, it would be Ann’s turn for a small respite. In the meantime, she pulled a stool next to Will and leaned her head against the wall.
She must have dozed off, but she was sure her nap hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes, judging by the slight change in the growing dawn out the small port window. When her eyes adjusted to the light and settled on Will’s face, something was different.
It took a moment for her to register the change. He looked altered—and then she realized why. He was no longer red and blotchy. He appeared sowhite, in fact, she wondered if he were dead. But if he had passed away, the ugly sores would have remained.
She reached for his hand. “Will,” she said in a fervent whisper. “Will!”
With her free hand she gently stroked his shoulder.
When he didn’t wake, she shook him a little. “Will—”
One eye pried open. He must have been in a very deep sleep. A healing one, she realized.
“Your face—the pox are gone.”
His eyes popped open and went wide as his hands shot to his cheeks. “It’s a miracle,” he said, his voice much stronger than earlier. Once his fingers assessed his skin, he pulled his hands away and turned them over. Red marks still existed there, but they were fainter than she recalled.
“I think you’re healing,” she said in a reverent whisper. “At an amazing rate.”
“I think so too,” he said, a smile pulling up his mouth.
“I’ll go tell the captain,” she said, standing. “And I think Mrs. Brower ought to know.”
