Page 132 of The Formation of Us
He opened his eyes, but they were glassy and didn’t focus.
“You know what I noticed about you the night of the lawn party when we were dancing?” she asked, clasping his right hand with both of hers. “That your voice was as deep and smooth as that cello in Damon’s band, that every word you speak is music to my ears.” She brought his hand to her chest, hugging it, wishing she could hug him. “I would love it if you’d talk to me.”
She waited for the musical sound of his voice, but only his lashes twitched. The doctor had given him a large dose of laudanum to blunt his pain.
“I want to grow old with you, Duke. I want to spend my life loving you.” She kissed his lips and stroked his cheek, willing his glazed eyes to see her. “My husband, my lover, my dream come true—I love you.”
His body tensed and his eyes sparked, then they drifted closed on a long sigh.
She lowered her cheek to his chest, listening to his heart beat, praying it would grow stronger each hour. She hoped his sigh meant he heard her. If this was their final exchange, she wanted the last words he heard to be “I love you.”
An hour later, she was bathing his face when he woke, groaning in pain. The doctor tried to give him more laudanum, but Duke turned away. “I need to see Adam,” he said, his voice grating and weak.
Faith hurried to the hall and woke her brother with a gentle shake. He jerked awake and stared at her with round, fearful eyes. “Duke wants to see you,” she said.
His eyes lit with hope. “He’s awake?”
She nodded, and he scrambled to his feet and slipped into the bedroom. Faith stood aside with the doctor while Adam made his way to the bed.
Duke grimaced in pain as he manipulated his good arm from beneath the covers. He gripped Adam’s hand and tugged until Adam was sitting on the mattress beside him. “I understand you’ve been waiting to see me,” he said, sounding more alert but also in more pain.
“Yes, sir.” Adam lowered his chin, but Faith could see his throat working, and she knew he was crying. “I saw the gun in Stone’s hand, and I wanted to warn you, but I couldn’t get the words out.”
Duke hooked his hand behind Adam’s neck and pulled the boy into a one-armed hug. Emotion clogged Faith’s throat. So that’s why Adam had needed to see Duke; he needed Duke’s manly shoulder and his forgiveness.
“I saw the gun too, son.”
Adam sat up, his face wet. “You knew Stone had it?”
“Yes. And I knew he’d try to shoot me, but I wanted to get that revolver away from him before he could hurt someone else. I knew the risk, and I took it. You did everything right, Adam. Without your help, Cora and I might not be here. You did exactly what I told you to do, and that means a lot.”
“I wish I could have got Cora away before Stone grabbed her.”
“And I wish I could have wrestled that revolver away from Stone before he shot me or pointed it at your sister’s head. We both did the best we could.” Duke sighed, then winced, and Faith could see the effort it took him just to talk. “I need a favor,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Anything you want.”
“Stop sleeping in the hall.” Duke gave him a man-to-man wink. “Sleep with Cora, so she won’t be so afraid, and help Faith take care of things while I’m healing this shoulder.”
“Yes, sir.” Adam slid off the bed. “Your brother, Mr. Grayson, I mean, Rebecca’s father, asked me to help out at the mill while you’re healing. But don’t worry, I’ll chop our firewood and take care of everything here, too.”
Surprise crossed Duke’s face, and he looked at Faith.
She shrugged. “Radford was persuasive.” And kind.
“Good.” Duke’s jaw clamped, and Faith nodded for Adam to leave the room. She sensed they were all at peace now, that whatever weight Adam had been carrying on his shoulders was relieved by Duke’s hug.
After Adam left, the doctor moved to the bed where Duke lay with his jaw clenched and his eyes closed. “How about that laudanum now?” he suggested.
“Make it a double,” Duke said without opening his eyes. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and a deep scowl drew his dark eyebrows low.
Dr. Milton gave Duke the laudanum, then went home to get some rest after a long afternoon and evening of doctoring.
And Faith’s fear mounted. For all her early complaints about the doctor’s arrogance, he knew far more about surgery and infection than Faith did, and she longed for his steadying presence.
Duke’s mother was a pillar of strength—and also fear and doubt. She helped Faith straighten the room and carry in fresh water, then she sat on the bed and wiped a cold cloth over Duke’s hot forehead. Her hand shook and her jaw trembled, and she crumbled like a mud wall in a rainstorm. “Oh, honey . . . I can’t lose you.” She buried her face against her son’s chest and wept, clutching his blood-speckled nightshirt in her fist.
Faith clamped her hand over her mouth to hold back her emphatic sob. She couldn’t bear to lose him either. After all the true and honest things she’d failed to do, Duke had given her and her family everything.
