“There would have been someone—”
“No.” He shook his head. “No one like you.”
His praise gave her a small measure of energy she had not experienced in days. It felt good to be recognized and appreciated. “Thank you.”
William offered an embarrassed smile and removed his hands from Eleanor’s grasp. “I haven’t shed a tear in front of anyone else in years, let alone a lady.”
“You have no need to fear,” she said, rising to take the rubbaboo out of the heat. “It is good to cleanse your soul from time to time with tears. God would not have given them to us if we were not supposed to use them.”
He shook his head in amazement. “You are a diamond among women, Eleanor Brooke.”
She wasn’t sure she was ready for more praise than was due, so she went about her work without responding to his compliments.
By the time supper was on the table, Arran had not returned, so Eleanor and William ate a quiet meal. She shared with him the doctor’s report and he told her about the baptisms he’d performed that afternoon.
When they were done eating, Arran was still not home. Eleanor kept the stew on the trivet, close enough to the fire to keep it warm for him.
“If you do not need me for anything more this evening,” William said to her, “I will say good night. I must prepare my sermon notes for tomorrow.”
“Go ahead.” He had helped her clean their scant dishes and there was nothing left to do. “I will check on Miriam again.”
“You must try to sleep,” he told her with concern in his voice. “We do not want you to become ill, as well.”
She would rest when Miriam was breathing easily again, and not a minute sooner.
He bid her good night and then climbed the ladder into the sleeping quarters above.
Eleanor went to her room and listened to Miriam breathing for a few moments. Nicolette snored softly from her mat on the floor. Eleanor knew if she sat on her bed, she would fall asleep,so she quietly removed her writing desk from the room and went to the table near the fireplace to write instead.
Concern for Arran had started to mount while they had eaten and had only grown stronger the longer he was away. It wasn’t like him to be gone for so long, and she wondered what could possibly be keeping him. She prayed it wasn’t serious and forced herself to turn her thoughts to her journal.
Like always, she did not spare the truth from the blank pages. She shared her fear for Miriam’s health, and her concern for the other colonists. When she was finished writing about the illness, she also shared her thoughts and feelings about the dance and how she had felt when she had been welcomed by the others. She hadn’t reopened her school since that night because of Miriam’s illness, but she hoped that when she did, the children would come.
Her eyes were heavy, and her head kept nodding forward, but she forced herself to continue writing.
Suddenly, her body felt warm and weightless. Eleanor could not force her eyes open, but there was no need. She was safe and protected, pressed close to the solid muscles of the one who held her in his arms. Her instinct was to snuggle close and wrap her arms around his neck. He smelled of woodsmoke and bergamot, and his heart beat steadily beneath her ear.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as he simply held her, but then he carried her to her room and laid her on her bed. She knew she needed to wake up, to listen for Miriam, but she could not force herself to leave the comfort of her dream.
Slowly, Eleanor’s eyes opened, and she stared at the wooden ceiling over her head, wondering vaguely how she had found her way to her bed. It was dark outside the window, but the wind hadsettled, and everything was still. For a moment, she just rested, her thoughts fuzzy, her body warm and comfortable under her quilt. Nicolette’s soft snores floated on the cool air, but Miriam’s labored breathing was no more.
With sudden clarity, Eleanor sat up in bed. Panic clawed at her chest as she pushed aside the heavy quilt and stumbled across the floor to look into Miriam’s cradle.
The baby was gone.
Terror filled Eleanor’s heart as she pulled open the bedroom door and ran into the common room.
Arran sat near the fireplace, smiling down at Miriam, who was cradled in his arms. He spoke gently to the little girl as she stared up at him with her wide, blue eyes. He was so big and strong, and she was so small and delicate.
Eleanor sagged against the doorframe, her muscles weak with relief. The terror in her heart melted away and was quickly replaced with something far sweeter. It warmed her through, bringing fresh tears.
Arran looked up at Eleanor, a light in his brown eyes. He slowly rose from his chair and walked over to her, holding the baby as if she was the most precious and fragile thing he’d ever touched. “We hoped you would keep sleeping.”
“How is she?” It was hard for Eleanor to find her voice. She was still breathless from the fright she’d just endured.
Arran smiled down at the baby, who continued to stare at him. “She is doing much better, though I dinna ken much about these things.” He spoke in a soothing voice, clearly for Miriam’s sake.
The first hint of a smile lifted the baby’s cheeks and Eleanor’s heart soared. Miriam had not smiled since becoming ill.
