A Bride for Logan by Barbara Goss (readict .TXT) 📕

rags, she heard Logan telling Rachel he was fine.

Rachel started to remove his bandage. “You aren’t fine. Just be still.”

Emma and Rachel gasped when they saw the green mucous staining the bandage when she pulled it off, and that the wound was bright red.

Rachel took the bucket of water from Alan and dipped one of the rags into it. She sponged his face, shoulders, and neck. When she was done, Rachel looked up at Emma. “You’ll have to bathe the rest of him.”

As sick as he was, Logan still had enough energy to give Emma a wicked smile.

Emma quickly blurted, “I can’t…I um…I feel dizzy just looking at the wound.” She looked at Alan. “Will you do it?”

Alan nodded and took the bucket and rags. “You ladies go have breakfast. I’ll take over.”

Emma felt guilty for seeming uncaring, so she took one of Logan’s hands and kissed it. “I’ll be back. We’ll fix this. You’ll be better in no time at all.”

Emma stirred her tea and stared at Rachel. “Are you going to tell him who you are?”

Rachel sighed. “No. If I do, I’m afraid of what he’ll say. He hates me, and I don’t blame him. At least this way I can see him and talk to him.”

“Has anyone ever died from a wound infection?” Emma asked.

“You don’t want to know, Emma.”

“Could he die?”

“He can if we didn’t treat him. As soon as Alan finishes with the cool bath, I’ll wash the wound, apply honey, and wrap it back up.”

“Honey? What will that do?”

“My father used it all the time. He was a doctor. The honey hydrates the bacteria, killing it. I always keep a supply on hand for cooking.”

“I need to thank God for putting you in my path for more reasons than one,” Emma said.

Alan came out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “He feels a little cooler. What next?”

“My turn.” Rachel went to the cupboard, removed a jar, went to another cupboard, and removed a clean cloth. She poured boiling water over the cloth, shook it out, and handed it to Emma. “This has to dry quickly. Can you hang it out on the clothesline? Thank goodness it’s a warm, sunny day.”

Before handing the rag to Emma, she put a safety pin through the cloth. “Hang it with the pin. We need to keep it as sterile as possible.”

 “What can I do?” Alan asked.

“The dishes,” Rachel said, rushing down the hall

Emma sat on the bed beside Logan. Rachel had cleaned his wound, doused it in honey, and wrapped it in the clean cloth. There was nothing left to do except pray. Even though Rachel had assured her he’d be fine, she still worried. It was all her fault. She’d brought nothing but trouble with her to Hunter’s Grove. Poor Logan wouldn’t be feverish with an infection if it weren’t for her.

She watched him as he slept. For some reason, she felt she owed him something, and she felt moved to curl up beside him. She lay her head on his chest and prayed he’d be all right.

Emma had nearly fallen asleep when she felt an arm go around her waist. She picked up her head and looked directly into her husband’s blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I’m so sorry. I brought this all on, and I feel as though I owe you something.”

Logan let out a weak laugh. “I may take you up on that, wife.”

“I’m just your pretend wife, but Ra…Mrs. Bradley thinks our marriage is real so I need to play the part.”

“You play it very well,” he said. “I figured she didn’t know when she gave us a room to share.”

“I owe you that much at least. I feel so guilty.”

“And that’s the only reason you've snuggled up to me with your head on my chest?”

“No. I care about you, really I do.”

“Could you get me some water? I’m thirsty.”

Emma jumped up and poured him some water from the bedside table. She put her arm behind his head and helped him drink.

“It looks as though we won’t be going home today. Maybe tomorrow,” he said.

“Just concentrate on getting better.” Emma put her hand to his forehead. “You’re still running a low-grade fever.” She smoothed out his quilt. “Are you hungry?”

“Mrs. Bradley said she’s making me some soup.”

“I’ll go see if it’s ready.” Emma grasped his hand. “Please, get better.”

Emma brought Logan his soup. “It’s chicken and rice.”

“Yum.” Logan groaned and raised an eyebrow. “I was hoping for a steak.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Emma put another pillow behind Logan. She put the tray with the soup on his lap. “Do you need help?”

“I feel weak, but I think I can manage a spoon.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you.” Logan tasted the soup. “It’s good.

“Mrs. Bradley does all of her own cooking.”

“No maid or housekeeper?”

“No, she does everything herself. I admire her.”

“By the look of the furnishings, she could afford the help.”

Logan pushed the soup bowl away. “Thank you. I’m not as hungry as I’d thought.”

“You hardly ate any, Logan.”

“What’s Alan doing? I haven’t seen him in a while,” Logan said.

Emma took the soup bowl from him and set it on the table. “He’s playing checkers with Mrs. Bradley.”

“Would you play poker with me sometime?” Logan asked groggily.

“You’d need to teach me, but not today—your eyelids are drooping.” Emma stood. “I’ll leave you to sleep.”

“No,” he said with his eyes still closed. “Stay with me—like you were before. It was so comforting.”

Emma felt it was the least she could do. She crawled up onto the bed, snuggled close to him, and put her head on his chest.

Emma sat up to the sound of voices.