“You can stay here and worry about Jonas, but I won’t risk the children not having a father.” Josie’s voice turned more serious than Travis had ever heard. “If you don’t, I will drag you there myself.”
Travis peered down at Jonas. He couldn’t leave him. He’d give his own life if it meant he could live.
“I let my father die,” Travis croaked. His eyes burned. “I ran off during harvest and never told my him goodbye. I can’t abandon Jonas for rest—”
Josie stood and touched Travis’s shoulder. “None of that was your fault, and Jonas is going to be fine. I have faith in it.”
Travis’s throat clenched. It had been his fault. All his fault.
Josie cupped his face in her hands, tuning him to her. She brushed her knuckles down his cheek. “I vow to you that I will never leave his side. You can stay in the bed next to him, too. You must rest, please. Do this for your other children who love you with their whole hearts.”
Travis took Josie’s hand and kissed her palm. Tears trickled down his cheek, glistening against her skin. Travis didn’t feel too terrible, but he yearned for rest. He wasn’t sure if fatigue had set in yet or if he was simply too preoccupied with worry over Jonas to notice. Perhaps he could lie down for a few hours and then tend to his son again. Sleep beckoned him, a siren call he found increasingly hard to resist.
“I’ll rest for a few hours, but I’m coming back to his side. He needs me.”
Josie nodded with softness in her eyes, her thumb brushing across his skin. “I know, and I will look after him the best I can.”
She rose from the bed, pulled fresh sheets from the children’s drawers, and made the empty bed. The girls’ bed was small, but Travis was grateful it was close. As soon as he closed his eyes, a wave of relief washed over him.
Rest. Sweet rest.
The pain in Josie’s breasts intensified as another hour went by without caring for Nathan. He was constantly on her mind, and she worried endlessly about his health. Was he sick? Was he overcome with worry? Was he missing her? There hadn’t been any correspondence from Rose, but that had been their arrangement. They had strictly agreed not to make contact until Jonas was better, but now that Travis had contracted the fever, she was unsure when that would be.
Josie and Aunt Polly spent the day burning the blankets and clothes that had been used before and during the illness. Outside, Josie set a pot to boil for washing dishes and utensils. On top of that, she brewed willow bark tea while keeping a watchful eye on her husband and son. She and Aunt Polly tried to take turns, but Josie could hardly bring herself to leave their sides. Aunt Polly kept to the main room unless she was needed. She spent every hour cooking, cleaning, and keeping the fireplace going.
Exhaustion wore at Josie’s limbs as she sat between the two beds, but she had to stay strong. She couldn’t let history repeat itself—not when she had been a helpless sixteen-year-old who knew nothing but how to throw parties and socialize. It had beenall her fault she couldn’t care for her family properly. This time, she’d do everything in her power to heal her new family.
Josie filled a cup with cold water just as Travis stirred, his eyelids fluttering. He groaned softly, struggling to sit up. She moved beside him and gently lifted his head before pulling another pillow behind him to support his posture. Bringing the water to his lips, she set her hand behind his head to steady him. He winced as he swallowed, followed by a harsh cough. Josie remembered the day she had the fever and how hard it was for her to swallow. Her tonsils had felt like they were on fire, and her head had throbbed with pain. Her eyes had been so swollen that she could barely open them.
“Travis, are you all right? Are you in pain?”
Travis sank into the mattress and shook his head. “Just . . . sleep,” he whispered weakly.
Josie gently pulled the covers to Travis’s chin and froze. A rash had formed along the base of his neck. A gasp escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth, desperately trying to restrain her tears. All this time, she had clung to the possibility that it was merely exhaustion, but now reality sank in. There was a chance her husband might be taken from her.
Travis was too good for her; she should be lying in bed with a deadly disease instead. His once-tan complexion was turning paler by the minute, and he almost resembled a corpse. Josie fought against those dark thoughts. This couldn’t happen.
She knelt beside Travis’s bed as he drifted off into a deep sleep, a sleep Josie wasn’t sure he’d wake from. Folding her shaking hands together, she closed her eyes, saying a prayer with the most faith she could muster.
“Lord, please forgive me for these sorrowful thoughts. I want to have all the faith I can in You, but the past of mine comes back to haunt me, tempting me to think the worst. I know You have the ability to heal.”
Josie looked down at Travis’s hand, intertwining her fingers in his. His pulse was slower than usual, but Josie tried to focus on the good. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with each breath. He was still alive, and there was still hope.
“Lord, I know I haven’t been the best wife to this man through my deceptions, but I know you have forgiven me as Travis has. I ask you now, with the humbleness in my heart, that You’d heal the man and boy I love more than life itself. Whatever Your will is, let it be done.”
In another situation, Josie would gasp at her sudden declaration. She looked down at Travis’s pale face, plastered with sweat. She loved this man. She genuinely loved him. Josie shifted her gaze to Jonas across the room, still sleeping in his bed. He was alive, too. He had just enough of a chance as Travis did.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Travispulledthecoverstighter around himself as chills coursed through his body. Weakness weighed him to the point he could barely lift his eyelids, feeling as if they were made of lead. Suddenly, warm fingertips brushed against his face.
“Travis? Travis, can you hear me?” a sweet voice asked.
Travis attempted to move his arms to grasp the woman’s hand, seeking more warmth, but his limbs were heavy and unresponsive. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but a fiery pain stung his throat, rendering him mute. A cold rag laid upon his forehead, making his chills rise.
“I know it’s cold, but your fever is too high. I need it to cool down.”
The woman left the cold towel resting on his forehead before quietly slipping out of the room, her footsteps fading away. Travis lay on his back, utterly unable to move, his mind swirling with confusion. The more he thought, the dizzier he became.After a while, he sensed another blanket being draped over him, and with each layer, the shivers began to lessen.
