Ruth Langan - Dulcie's Gift

Dulcie watched him, feeling a growing sense of panic. Of all the people in this house, why did it have to be this gruff, angry man who’d been sent to look after Fiona?

Well, this was his house. He had permitted them refuge from the storm. She had no right to interfere.

Nevertheless, she persisted. “Are you a doctor, Mr. Jermain?”

He shot her a quelling look. “I am a farmer, Miss Trenton. A simple farmer.”

When he returned his attentions to Fiona, Dulcie clenched her hands at her sides. A farmer maybe. But simple? Never. There was so much anger in this complex man, so much hostility, it fairly burned to burst free.

“Miss O’Neil.” Cal spoke sharply to the still figure in the bed. “Can you hear me, Miss O’Neil?”

Acting as a buffer between her friend and this stern stranger, Dulcie moved to the other side of the bed and reached out to clasp Fiona’s hand. “Oh, Fiona,” she whispered, “please, please hear me.”

“You must speak in a normal tone, Miss Trenton.”

Dulcie eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because your friend is in a deep sleep. You must find a way to penetrate the layers of pain. Each time you visit her bedside, you must attempt to engage her in conversation. Talk about things you both know. Things you’ve shared. Call to her. Invite her to reach out to you.”

She stared down at her friend, as if willing the young woman her strength. “Yes. All right.”

“Now, about those marks on her back…”

Dulcie’s head came up sharply, and he could see her closing up before his eyes.

“It is obvious that not all of them were caused by the fall in the boat. How did she come by the others?”

“I have no right to violate her privacy. You will have to ask her when she awakes.”

“I am asking you, Miss Trenton.”

Dulcie gritted her teeth and held her silence.

“Very well.” Cal stood and walked out of the room.

She released Fiona’s hand and raced after him as he crossed the hallway to another bedroom. “Clara is sleeping. I would rather you not disturb…”

Ignoring her, he stepped into the room and approached the bedside where the little girl lay. From the doorway Dulcie watched as he lifted the child’s hand and examined her injured arm. After applying a clean dressing, he felt her forehead, then gently rolled the sleeping child onto her stomach and ran his fingers along her spine. When at last he tucked the blankets around the little girl’s shoulders and turned away, Dulcie confronted him.

“You call yourself a simple farmer, Mr. Jermain, yet your actions say otherwise. I do not believe you.”

“Then we are even, Miss Trenton.” He pinned her with his dark, penetrating look. “For when you say you did not see the storm approaching, I do not believe you.”

Struck speechless, she could only stare after him as he moved around her and stalked away.

As Dulcie stepped into Starlight’s room, where the others had gathered, she was pleasantly surprised. The young woman had supervised sponge baths for everyone, and all stood, neatly dressed, hair combed.

But despite their spotless appearance, they wore identical frowns of concern.

“You look splendid. But please, tell me what’s wrong,” Dulcie coaxed.

“We’re afraid,” Starlight explained. “The Jermains are such stern people. It’s obvious they don’t like having us here.” She clutched Dulcie’s arm. “Oh, Dulcie. What if they send us back today?”

Dulcie swallowed. She’d been asking herself the same question.

“I don’t believe they will send us away until Fiona and Clara are capable of making the journey back to Charleston. So for a few days they will tolerate our presence on their island. And perhaps we can find a way to remain a little longer.”

“But how?” Starlight asked.

Dulcie glanced around at her young charges. “God works in mysterious ways,” she said as bravely as she could manage. Then, straightening her spine, she said, “Come along. It’s time to greet our rescuers.” And face their prying questions once more, she thought.

As she descended the stairs, her fears nagged at her. The Jermains would be eager to be done with the burden of so many extra mouths to feed. She had to think of a way to make the burden lighter. For she was determined to remain here as long as possible. No matter what price they were forced to pay, she and the others must not be returned to Charleston.

“Well.” Aunt Bessie looked up from her mending. It was not one of her favorite tasks, but with all of the household work falling to Robert, she had no choice but to pitch in. “I see you are up and about at last.”

“Yes. Thank you for your hospitality. For the beds we slept in. And for washing our clothes,” Dulcie said as she shepherded the others into the room.

“For your clothes you can thank Robert. He was not happy with the muddy rags on his floor and thought it best to sacrifice a little sleep in order to achieve the cleanliness he desires.”

Aunt Bessie set aside her basket of mending. Though the women and children wore clothes that were clean and pressed, they were indeed little more than rags. It offended her sense of dignity.

“There is hot food in the dining room. Come along.”

All eyes widened when they entered the dining room and caught sight of the sideboard groaning under the weight of several silver trays.

“There is corn bread, roasted pork and coddled eggs,” Aunt Bessie announced. “I sent Darwin to milk the cow. As I recall, children have need of such nourishment.”

“That was kind of you.” Dulcie handed each child a plate. But instead of filling them, the children began cramming the food into their mouths.

Aunt Bessie looked horrified. “I simply cannot abide such a lack of manners,” she said with indignation. “Where were you children raised? In the streets?”

Dulcie bit back the words that sprang to her lips. Could the woman not see that the children were starving?

Taking charge, she admonished, “You will spoon the food onto your plates. Nathaniel, you may go back for seconds. But for now, take only what you can eat.”

“Yes’m.” He eyed the food with naked hunger.

“Emily and Belle, I think your eyes are bigger than your stomachs.”

The two little girls reluctantly returned half their food to the silver trays, put the rest on their plates and made their way to the table.

Frail Starlight, on the other hand, spooned only a speck of food onto her plate. Dulcie took it from her hands and filled it, then returned it to the young woman. “See that you eat, Starlight. You need to regain your strength.”

“I…I’ll try.”

When all were seated, Dulcie prepared a plate for herself and took a seat at the table. She bowed her head and the others did the same, clasping hands as Dulcie murmured, “We thank thee, Father, for this shelter from the storm and for this splendid food.”

“Amen,” the children intoned.

As the others began eating, Dulcie touched a hand almost lovingly to the lace tablecloth. “This is beautiful, Aunt Bessie.”

It took the older woman a moment to gather her wits. She had been first moved to anger by the shocking lack of dining etiquette and was now moved by some other, deeper emotion at the touching scene of the women and children praying.

It had been a long time since she had heard such words in this house. She had never been one for outward signs of religious faith. Her nephews were especially resistant to any displays of religion since their return from the war.

“The lace was made in Belgium.” As soon as she took her seat at the table, Robert appeared at her side with a steaming cup of tea. As always, his white shirt and dark pants were perfectly pressed, his shoes polished to a high shine.