Page 6 of Once Upon a Woven Wish
She forced her feet to move to his bedside and perched on the edge of the chair beside him.Her hand shook as she reached for his, patting his cold, clammy skin.She wanted to recoil, but forced herself to hold his hand.To give him the comfort he needed.To know he was not alone.
His eyes fluttered open and fixed on her.A weak smile creased his pale lips.
“Serena, dear girl.There you are.”
A cough wracked his frail body, his chest rattling with consumption.
A pang went through her, making her chest tighten.
“How are you feeling today?”It was a rhetorical question.One she did not expect him to answer.
He wheezed as he tried to answer.She reached for the damp rag to wipe his brow.The water in the bowl was murky.Annoyance flashed through her.Maris did not freshen the water.
When her sister pushed open the door, Serena looked up.The girl carried a wedge of stale bread.
“This is all we have left.”
Serena took it from her, holding it in her hand as she reached for the bowl.
“Take this.Refresh the water from the well.Bring clean linens,” she ordered, her voice terse.
Maris frowned.“But I haven’t slept all night.And I’m hungry,” she whined.
She was hungry too, but she didn’t whine about it.She was tired too, but she forced herself to go on.
“Do as you’re told,” she snapped.“Then you can rest.”
With a pout, she snatched the bowl from her hands and stalked out.
“Don’t be so hard on her,” Papa said, his voice weak.“She’s all you have left.”
Serena placed the bread aside.She stood and slid an arm behind him, lifting him enough to fluff the pillows.
“I still have you.”
He coughed again as he leaned into the pillows.Serena busied herself with arranging his blankets to ease his discomfort.
Maris stomped into the room again with the bowl of fresh water and clean linen rags.She gave her a nod of thanks before the girl scurried off to their bedroom to rest.
“Serena…” He gasped her name, his voice raspy.“I do not have much time.”He closed his eyes, leaning heavily into the pillows.
Fear stabbed her heart.“Don’t talk like that.You’ll be—”
“No.Sit, please.”
With her heart clawing its way to her throat, she sat, her hands clasped in her lap to keep them from shaking.
“How about some bread?”she asked.
He shook his head, a slow movement from side to side.“No.Tell me a story.”
“A story?”
“Yes.When your mother lived…the flowers were in bloom.I can see the flowers in bloom and smell their sweet scent.”
He was delirious.She searched her memory for that time, but came up empty.
“I’m sorry, Papa.I don’t remember that.”
