The Creole Historical Romance 4-In-1 Bundle by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, ebook, Christian, book, Fiction
ISBN: 9781401686796
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2011-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter twenty-three

As soon as Jeff stepped inside the door, Rose greeted him anxiously. “Dr. Whitman, Miss Madariaga was here.”

Jeff had taken off his hat and was about to hang it up. He stopped and turned. “When was this?”

“It was the day before yesterday. There wasn’t any way to get word to you.”

“What’s wrong, Rose?”

“It’s the yellow fever. Her mother and the gentleman who manages the plantation are down with it. And several of the slaves, I think.”

“I wish I’d known that. Will you tell Miss Charissa that I’ve left for the Madariaga plantation?”

“Oh, she’s already gone, Dr. Whitman.”

“Gone where?”

“She went back with Miss Madariaga to help with the nursing.”

Jeff put his hat on and said, “I’ll have to go right now.”

“Doctor, take something to eat.”

“I’ll get something there. Thank you, Rose. If anyone asks, you tell them where I am.”

Rose followed him outside and watched him call out to the groom, “Hold it, Jimmy! Don’t unhitch those horses.”

Damita had been dozing slightly in a rocking chair, but a sudden noise awoke her. She straightened up and leaned forward to look at the figure on the bed. Yancy Devereaux’s face was a waxen, yellowish color, and perspiration flowed from him. She laid her hand on his forehead. Fever’s up again.

She dipped a cloth in the basin on the table and began to bathe his face. She thought about calling Charissa, but there was really nothing that a nurse could do. Nothing a doctor can do either, she thought grimly. A single sheet covered the powerful body. He had lost weight, she knew. She thought of how, at times, the chills shook him so violently that she was afraid, and she wanted to hold him on the bed to keep him from falling.

As she bathed his face, she heard him whispering. Pausing, she leaned down and put her ear close to his lips, but she could not make out the words.

Though Yancy remained seriously ill, Elena had made progress; she had not improved, but she had not worsened either. Damita had helped Charissa take care of the slaves as well as she could, and now, as she continued to bathe Yancy’s face, she thought how strange it was that Charissa had come. She felt a strong sense of shame as she realized how unselfish her former servant had been. She had said to Charissa once, “It must be terrible for you, being in this city where you were a slave.” Charissa had simply smiled and said, “I don’t let memories tell me how to feel. If you do that, you’re at the mercy of the past.”

Her words had remained with Damita, and she recognized that she was guilty of such things. Looking down, she thought of how often she had remembered the shipwreck and how she had almost given herself to Yancy Devereaux.

Just then Yancy began to toss and turn, trying to throw off the cover. His eyes fluttered, and he spoke, but he was in a delirium.

Without warning a terrible fear came to Damita.

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