“They’re fine,” Elizabeth said with a reassuring smile, no doubt reading the worry on his face and knowing exactly what was bothering him.
“I know,” he said, smiling fondly down at his wife, deciding that it was easier to believe that everything was going to be okay than to worry that there was something wrong with his sons.
“According to your mother, you were a big boy, too,” Elizabeth reminded him with a teasing smile, the same one that had the power to instantly soothe the panic that threatened to take over and knock him on his ass. “They’re fine,” she reassured him with a smile as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, gently cupping the back of his head and she leaned up and kissed him. “They’re fine,” she repeated, knowing exactly what he needed to hear.
Less than a year old and they could eat almost as much as him. Thank God he’d managed to put extra food away this winter and as well as some extra money otherwise they would have been in a lot of trouble. Next year he was going to have to double the amount of food he-
Elizabeth ran her fingers through his hair as she smiled against his lips. “We’ll be fine. Stop worrying so much.”
“It’s my job to worry,” he reminded her with a wink as he cupped her face in his hand and brushed his lips against hers one last time, so temped to say the hell with Boston and spend the next week in bed, finding new and interesting ways to make her moan his name.
“No,” she said, brushing her lips against his, “it’s not.”
It was, but he wasn’t going to stand here, wasting time arguing about something that didn’t matter. She was his responsibility, his heart, his soul and he would be absolutely lost without her.
“We’re going to miss the coach,” he said, trying to pretend that it didn’t kill him that he couldn’t afford to bring his wife up to Boston in a private coach and do this the right way, the way that she deserved, but they couldn’t take the poor excuse that they had for a coach, not when Mrs. Brown and the boys might need it while they were out of town.
He’d make this up to her, he decided as he allowed himself one last kiss.
“Are you sure that we should be going?” she asked hesitantly, but he didn’t miss the excited quiver in her voice or point out the fact that she’d clearly hit exhaustion yesterday and needed to get out of the house almost as badly as he needed to show her that she hadn’t made a mistake in choosing him.
“Absolutely,” he said firmly, eager to show her that she may not have married a rich man, but she had married the right one.
Chapter 5
“Robert, are you okay?” she foolishly asked when it was clear that he wasn’t.
He opened his mouth, thought better of it, continued to squeeze his eyes shut and nodded his head as the back of his knuckles turned pale white from the grip that he had on the rickety old bench that seemed to be going out of its way to jostle poor Robert every other second as the stage coach slowed as it made its way north.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly as she laid one of her hands over his, nearly yanking it back seconds later when she realized how hot it was.
He felt like he was on fire and judging by the pained expression on his face and the fact that his normally handsome tan face had leeched of color, she didn’t think that it would be too long before the other passengers cowering in the corners away from him would figure out that he was sick and-
“He’s sick! Pull over!” John, a large beefy farmer who’d been staring at her cleavage for the past hour suddenly screeched, emphasizing his panic by pounding one meaty fist against the wall of the coach until the coachman finally had enough and pulled the coach to a stop.
The coach had barely had a chance to come to a complete stop when the five other passengers leapt from the carriage in a desperate attempt to get away from Robert and whatever disease they feared he carried. She opened her mouth to chastise them and tell them that they were acting foolish when Robert mumbled, “Oh, no,” shoved the small door on his side of the carriage open and stumbled out of the carriage where he soon fell to his hands and knees and lost the blueberry turnovers that he’d bought at the Inn while they’d waited for the coach to arrive.
Not knowing what else to do, she followed after Robert and knelt down by his side while he continued to cough and his large body trembled. She put her hand on his back to offer his some comfort and nearly swore when she realized that his jacket was soaked through with sweat and that he was trembling. So, when the coach unceremoniously continued its journey to Boston, she didn’t say anything, because she knew there was nothing that she could say to any of them that would change their minds so she didn’t. She simply knelt by her husband, rubbing his sweat soaked back while the carriage pulled away, rocking noisily while she knelt there, trying to figure out what they should do.
“Kill. Me,” Robert groaned, apparently deciding on a course of action as he shoved himself away from what had once been his breakfast and curled up on the rock infested dirt road, closed his eyes and waited for death to come for him.
Ignoring his plea for a quick death, she contemplated their options as she asked, “What did she make you?”
“Beef stew and some brown bread,” he muttered with a pathetic groan as he curled up into a tighter ball, squeezed his eyes shut tightly as his handsome face took on a rather frightening shade of gray.
“Beef stew?” she asked hollowly, because if there was one thing that everyone in town knew about Mrs. Kinnley, besides the fact that she couldn’t cook to save her life, it was that the only thing that she cooked was mutton and that was only if she could get a good price for it, which meant that she usually waited to buy her meat when it was mere minutes from being thrown away.
“Yeah,” Robert groaned in agreement as he rolled over onto his side with a grunt, dug his fingers into the packed dirt marked by coach wheels, hooves and…
Well, she really didn’t want to think about what else the horses had left behind since her husband was now rolling around in it. Rubbing her hands roughly down her face as she tried not to think of a lot of things, but there was just one thing that she couldn’t let go.
“Robert?” she said, trying to figure out the best way to ask this without getting an answer that would terrify her.
“Hmm?” he managed to ask as he rolled over, groaning loudly and making a big show out of dying.
“You do realize that Mrs. Kinnely only cooks mutton, right?”
A groan.
“And you know that she only cooks one pot of mutton stew, usually the first of the month and she keeps it until it’s gone,” she slowly reminded him, something that he really should have remembered this morning before he did the unthinkable.
Another groan.
“It’s the twenty-fifth,” she pointed out slowly, waiting for comprehension to hit and when it did, Robert swore, rolled over and-
Made her wince as he finished getting sick and ridding his body of the rest of the “stew” that he’d eaten this morning. Well, at least that explained the green, fuzzy stuff, she thought, turning her head as she felt her stomach threaten to lurch.
“Shit,” he grumbled as he rolled back over, a safe distance away from the mess he’d just made and commenced with mumbling for God to spare him so that his children wouldn’t have to grow up without him and that his wife wouldn’t be forced to go on without him, probably never finding a man half as wonderful as him. She missed most of it, but what she did catch had her rolling her eyes and taking another look around, trying to figure out what she was going to do with him.
Since trying to bring him to Boston was probably pointless now, that only left her with one option. She needed to find a way to drag her incredib
ly heavy husband back the way they came and she needed to figure out a way to do it without any money, she realized as she slowly turned around and watched the mail coach finally disappear down the long lane and through the woods along with their bags, her purse and Robert’s coat where he always kept his billfold.
At least she wouldn’t have to figure out how they were going to afford to feed Robert on the trip home, she told herself, trying to find the bright side of things, but of course that was the moment when Robert chose to roll over once again and leave another puddle of-
Well, it wasn’t important what was coming out of him just as long as it was coming out, she decided as she waited for him to stop dry heaving. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she reached down to run her fingers over the familiar metal case that she carried everywhere only to remember that she’d left her reticle in the coach, the same coach that was even now trying to put as much distance between them before nightfall as fast as their team of horses could take them.
“Oh, God,” she mumbled, swallowing hard as she felt her heart sink.
She started to take a step towards the coach, unable to help herself when the pained groan stopped her. Biting back the tears, she clenched her jaw shut tightly, struggling not to cry as she forced herself to stay there when all she wanted to do was grab her skirts and run after that coach before it was too late and the most precious thing in the world to her was gone forever.
But, she knew that no matter how fast she ran, how loud she screamed, that the coach was never going to stop for her.
It was gone.