It was almost a relief when Dr. Havers had showed up, much later, to serve as surprised but willing sparring partner. It seemed that Hannah needed a target upon whom to focus her spleen, and who better but the good doctor?
They had, indeed, murmured together, husband and wife. He had asked her several times how she was feeling, honestly; she had done the same. With pleasantries out of the way, he could question the state of affairs at the mercantile, and whether she had talked to Jimmy, and what the sheriff had to say, and so on. In private discussion, Ben and Camellia had worked out a tentative plan for tomorrow, pending the doctor’s approval.
Once the kitchen had been returned to order, Hannah decided to stroll over to the boarding house. She was anxious to see how her younger sisters were faring, and she wanted to let them know the latest news. (She was also intent upon giving the newlyweds some privacy.) It was a successful visit, with the girls sending along their best wishes and hoping to stop by the Forrester home soon; and Hannah returned in time to open the door to Gabriel’s importunate knock.
It was almost as if he had been lying in wait for her. Except that he looked exhausted.
“Well, well,” she greeted him waspishly, having barely had time to remove her bonnet. “Here for supper, I presume?”
Gabriel let out a groan. “Be kind to me. Been dealin’ with a boy fulla bee stings this whole afternoon, and I’m whipped. Got any coffee?”
“You know,” Hannah reminded him over her shoulder, as she turned to the kitchen, “there are perfectly good restaurants in this town.”
“Ahuh. But where else could I enjoy such delightful company?”
“Delightful. Of course. Some men have to pay for that. And what happened?”
“Oh, to the boy?” Slinking into the parlor, to collapse like a jellyfish in his favorite chair, his expression changed from jocular to grave. “It was touch and go for a while. Reckon the boy’s system can’t handle that much venom all at once. But he’s better, despite all the painful bumps. However, I suspect he won’t be tryin’ to steal more honeycomb from hives in the near future.”
Speaking to Ben, while the hearty soup was being heated and dished up, he approved of the proposition being made for the morrow: that Hannah would stay, for part of another day, and Camellia would spend a few hours in consultation with Jimmy. (The couple had already decided that her sister could return to her own life, after that. She had unstintingly devoted enough time to dealing with the fate of the Forresters.)
“Don’t like havin’ her gettin’ involved in business,” Ben quietly fretted. “But I don’t see any choice. I may be laid up here a couple more days yet—”
Gabriel interrupted with a snort. “Even a stubborn ole mule like you ain’t that strong, my friend. At least a week before I’ll let you venture out. Meanwhile...” He couldn’t hold back a sly smile, remembering his prophesy of how the pride of a certain headstrong mayor might be headed for a fall.
What more fitting punishment than this, that Ben might have to depend on the good sense and intelligence of a mere woman!
“Meanwhile, what?”
“Oh, nothin’ much. Nothin’ much a’tall.”
The doctor stayed, making a nuisance of himself with comments directed Hannah’s way like arrows straight to a target. It wasn’t until about nine o’clock, and full dark, that she yawned conspicuously, picked up one of the kerosene lamps, and started for the stairs.
“I’m way too tired to stay awake any longer,” she grandly informed those remaining. “Good night, everyone. Good night, o mighty physician.”
Gabe took the hint.
When the doors were closed and locked, and the house had grown quiet, Camellia was ready for bed, as well. She paused beside the settee, to inquire whether Ben wanted or needed anything before she settled in.
“Ahuh.” He had reached for her hand, dangling loosely in the folds of her skirt, “Will you bend down here, and give me a kiss b’fore you go upstairs?”
Her heart immediately started picking up its beat, in response, and her insides twisted deliciously. Of course she would kiss him. She was his wife. With last week’s quarrel long past, and its cause pushed into the grey mists of memory by near-catastrophe, and a fresh realization of what’s important and what’s not, she would do whatever she could for his well-being. They had the whole future to prepare for.
It was meant to be a light, gentle peck on the cheek.
But he had turned, at the precise moment of contact, so that their mouths met, instead. Their mouths touched, and heated, and sparked. More intensity, more pressure, a sense of hunger, and of desire temporarily denied. Her free hand curled over the back of his head, and into his unruly, tumbled hair; his palm moved up to curve around her unbruised cheek, and then slipped down to a more enticing locale.
Finally, breathing hard, the invalid gently, reluctantly released his clasp.
“Cam, darlin’,” he whispered, his eyes blazing into hers.
“Ben, darling,” she whispered, and gave a fluttered, nervous little laugh.
“We got a lotta talkin’ to do, still. We gotta work out how to deal with each other. T’morrow.”
“Tomorrow.” It was a pledge and a promise.
“And—Cam...’Fraid I ain’t gonna be much good to you for a while—uh—as man and wife. But I think we need to make a fresh start there, too, whatddya say?”