Authors: Jae
Phin scratched his head. "Uh, yeah, I know. I thought
maybe a hot compress would help loosen her muscles."
Despite the dizzying pain, Rika had to chuckle. Her body
cramped, sending flashes of pain through her. She stopped laughing.
"Easy, easy," Amy murmured. She pulled off her
gloves with her teeth and stroked Rika's uninjured arm. "How do we do
this? Do you think a hot compress would help?" A tremor ran through her
voice.
"Later. I need to look at the shoulder first." The
thought of wrestling out of her tight bodice made her dizzy, but she needed to
see the shoulder. If it was broken or the head of the bone was behind the
joint, trying to put the shoulder back in would make things worse.
"Oh. If you're undressing, I'll leave you ladies alone
and go take care of Lancelot," Phin said. Three long steps carried him to
the door, where he stopped to look back. "Are you sure you can do this,
Amy?"
Eyes that had darkened to pine green searched Rika's.
"Yes." Amy never looked away from Rika.
"All right. Give a shout if you need me." The door
fell closed, and Phin's footsteps faded away.
Amy unwrapped the shawl from around Rika's shoulders and
draped it over her lap as if to make sure she wouldn't get cold. Trembling
fingers brushed Rika's throat as Amy fiddled with the pin and removed her
collar.
Rika watched the path of those fingers as they moved
downward and opened button after button. She thought of the day she had helped
Amy with her dress when Amy had burned her fingers. It seemed many months ago,
yet she still remembered the golden hue of Amy's skin that faded to a creamy
white the farther down the dress slipped.
Amy paused and looked up.
Their gazes touched.
"You all right?" Amy whispered. "You look
flushed. How bad is the pain?"
Rika licked her lips. "It's bearable." And it was.
Amy's presence soothed her pain more than a bottle of laudanum could.
"Good." Amy lowered her gaze to the buttons.
With her help, Rika struggled out of her bodice. The sleeves
slid down her arms, and Amy carefully freed her right hand of the cuff. She
pulled the wide neck of Rika's chemise to the side until it dropped off her
injured shoulder.
"There," Amy said, voice rough.
Rika looked away from Amy and peered at her shoulder. She
bit the inside of her cheek when she saw the bulb-shaped knot. "The
shoulder is popped out all right." Acid burned in her stomach, and Rika
breathed through a wave of nausea.
"What's the best way to do this?" Amy asked.
"When I helped Toby, he was in so much pain... I don't want to do this to
you."
"I watched the doctors with a soldier once." His
screams still echoed in Rika's ears, but she didn't tell Amy that. "He
bent the forearm at the elbow and rotated it to the side until the shoulder popped
back in. Think you can do that?"
Amy nodded and stepped closer. The warmth of her leg
penetrated Rika's skirt, and she leaned against the soothing touch. With cold,
damp fingers, Amy reached for her forearm. "Ready?"
"Yes." Rika didn't look at her shoulder. She kept
her gaze fixed on Amy's eyes. Her muscles tightened in anticipation of more
pain.
Amy rotated Rika's arm. It hung like dead weight, protesting
the movement, but for a moment, it didn't hurt. At least not worse than before.
Then Amy turned the arm farther to the side, applying
constant pressure.
Pain lanced through Rika's shoulder. She clamped her jaw
tight to hold back a groan.
The arm turned a bit more.
Rika fell into the dark spots that danced before her eyes.
The harsh sound of her own breathing dimmed. "Wait!" She gasped.
Amy paused, her fingers gentle on Rika's arm.
"I need to lie down." If she fainted, Amy wouldn't
be able to catch her. Not without further hurting her shoulder. She lay back on
the divan. Her skirt slid up, and her legs tangled with Amy's as they hung off
the short divan. She didn't care. Amy's touch was the only thing anchoring her
in a sea of pain.
"Do you want some whiskey?" Amy asked. Her face
was as pale as Rika's chemise. "Papa keeps a bottle in the parlor for emergencies."
Numbing the pain sounded like a good idea, but she already
felt dizzy enough and she had sworn herself to never rely on the bottle to get
her through a tough situation, afraid that it might become a habit, as it had
for her father and her husband. "No. Just get it over with." With the
help of her left hand, she pulled her upper arm against her body.
Amy gripped her forearm. Her fingers stroked Rika's hands,
soothing away the pain.
Then the pressure returned. Rika's forearm rotated to the
side.
With her good hand, Rika gripped a handful of fabric, not
knowing or caring what it was.
Amy pulled a bit more.
Rika's muscles spasmed and burned with pain.
"What if this isn't working?" Amy paused. Her gaze
searched Rika's. "What if I'm making it worse?"
Rika shook her head. If she opened her mouth to answer, she
would scream, so she nodded at Amy to continue.
Slowly, Amy rotated the elbow.
The knotted muscles protested, flaring with white-hot pain.
Rika screamed.
Then, as her forearm moved an inch farther, the pressure
stopped. The pain went from roaring to smoldering. Rika panted through a dry
mouth. She unclenched the trembling fingers of her left hand from around Amy's
sleeve and cradled her right arm to her chest.
Amy let go of her forearm and rubbed her fingertips over
Rika's shoulder, making sure the bulb-shaped knot was gone. The gentle touch
made Rika forget the pain for a moment. "How does it feel?"
"Good," Rika said. Her cheeks flamed. "I
mean, it's a lot better now."
The door burst open. "Hendrika got hurt?" Luke's
voice was higher than usual.
Amy tugged the chemise back into place and took a step
forward, blocking Rika's half-dressed body with her own. "I got it, Papa.
We put the shoulder back in."
Luke patted Amy's shoulder. "Well done." He peered
past Amy but kept his eyes respectfully on Rika's face. "Anything I can do
for you, Hendrika?"
"No, thank you. I'm in good hands."
"Yes, you are." He turned to Amy. "Go make
her comfortable and then come talk to me. There's something your mother and I
have to tell you."
"Now?" Amy asked. Her gaze trailed toward Rika.
Luke nodded. "We already waited too long." He
backed away before Amy could say anything else.
"That sounded serious," Rika said. "Is
everything all right with your family?"
Amy smoothed a thumb over her eyebrow. "I hope
so." She took Rika's shawl and knotted it around her shoulder. "Toby
had his arm in a sling after we put his shoulder back in."
"What about my bodice?"
"Don't bother." With gentle fingers, Amy placed
the injured arm into the sling. "You'd only have to struggle out of it
again 'cause I'm taking you to bed." Red blotches formed on her cheeks.
"I-I mean, I'm gonna take you upstairs and make sure you rest."
In the past, Rika would have thought nothing of the innocent
comment, but now Frankie and Tess had made her aware that women could take
other women to bed. Apparently, Amy had thought about that revelation too.
What
would it be like?
Again, she felt Amy's fingers on her bare shoulder,
stroking gently, but when she looked up, Amy wasn't touching her.
She shook her head at herself.
You're drunk on pain.
On legs that felt weak, she followed Amy up the stairs.
* * *
"You don't have to do that," Rika said when Amy
plumped up her pillow for the fourth time in half an hour. "I haven't been
in bed past sunrise since I was four years old. You should finally go talk to
your father, and I should be up, helping Nattie muck the stalls and take care
of —"
"No." Amy hovered over her. "For once, you're
the one being taken care of. Better get used to it."
Better not,
Rika thought. The pastor would come over
later today, and within a few days, she would be away from Amy's caring
presence. The thought hurt more than the pain in her shoulder.
Amy sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle it.
"How's the shoulder? Does it hurt?"
"It's fine. The pain went away as soon as you put it
back in. Now it's mostly just sore."
A knock interrupted, and Amy hurried to the door like a
self-appointed guardian. She inched open the door and peered through the crack.
"How is she?" Phin asked from the other side of
the door.
Amy glanced back at Rika. "I put the shoulder back in.
Now she needs some rest."
"Can I see her?"
"She's not dressed to receive visitors."
"I wouldn't disturb her, but the reverend is over in the
cabin," Phin said. "He wants to talk to Hendrika and me, and I would
hate to send him away. He already thinks Hendrika and I are dragging our feet
about the wedding."
Rika stiffened. Her shoulder started to pound. Or maybe it
was her heart.
"Wait here," Amy said. She closed the door and
turned to Rika. Was it just Rika's imagination, or was the helpless desperation
she felt reflected on Amy's face? But when she opened her mouth, Amy just
asked, "Do you feel up to talking to the reverend? We can send him away
if—"
Rika shook her head.
No use in dragging it out.
"It's all right. Most of the pain is gone."
"Want some help getting dressed?" Amy asked.
"I think I can manage." Rika slipped out of bed,
careful not to bang her shoulder on the washstand. She pulled out of the
improvised sling and wrestled her right arm through the sleeve of her bodice,
then slipped into the other sleeve. Her muscles protested when she tried to
lift her hand to the buttons.
"Let me," Amy said.
Rika watched the strong fingers move over her bodice. Her
glance took in rope burns, scratches, and old scars across the back of Amy's
hands, and she realized the pattern was as familiar as the streets of Boston
had once been to her. It seemed she spent a lot of time watching Amy's hands. "We
seem to make a habit out of dressing and undressing each other," Rika
murmured.
Amy paused, hands on the top button. Surely, she could feel
Rika's heart hammering away through the fabric of her bodice. Her finger
trailed over Rika's collarbone when she lifted her gaze to meet Rika's.
"Rika, I —"
A loud knock on the door made them jerk back, away from each
other. "Hendrika?" Phin called through the door. "You
decent?"
Rika had forgotten that he stood waiting. "Yes, come
in."
Phin stepped into the bedroom, squeezing his hat between his
hands. He looked like Rika's brother when he had gotten into trouble and was
waiting to be scolded.
He's not your brother. He'll be your husband soon.
"How's the shoulder?" He waved his hat in the
direction of Rika's right arm.
"It's fine." She wasn't used to all that fussing
over her. "Amy took good care of it."
"Good, good. I feel real bad about it."
"It was my own fault. I wasn't looking where I was
going." Watching Amy had distracted her. Heat crept up her chest and
suffused her face.
Phin took her left hand and squeezed it. "Don't be
embarrassed. Everyone stumbles now and again."
"Here." Amy filled a mug with water from the
pitcher and shoved it at Rika.
Blinking, Rika freed her hand from Phin's and took the mug.
"Thank you." She gulped down the cool liquid as if it would
extinguish the fire in her cheeks.
"The reverend is waiting in the cabin." Phin
shoved one hand into his pocket. "I can send him away if this isn't a good
time."
Rika was tempted to say yes and buy herself a few more days
at the ranch, but she had always faced reality and never allowed herself to
linger on what ifs. She wouldn't start now. "It's fine. I'll be over in a
minute."
Phin nodded and turned on his heel. He strode away as if
thankful to escape the room.
"Want to come?" Rika gestured in the direction of
the cabin with her chin. The pastor's presence made her squirm ever since she
had seen Tess and Frankie kiss, and knowing he was there to talk about her
wedding didn't help to calm her.
"No," Amy said so quickly that Rika suspected she
wasn't eager to be in the pastor's presence either. "I should go talk to
my mama and papa, see what they want."
Distance grew between them, and Rika shivered. She fumbled
the improvised sling back around her shoulder and turned to go.
"Rika?"
She turned back.
Their gazes met and pulled them together, across the room.
Without a word, Amy stepped closer. The heat of her body warmed Rika. Amy
lifted her hands.
Rika's breath hitched.
Amy closed the top button on Rika's bodice. "There."
She dropped her hands and stepped back.
"Oh. Thank you." On shaky legs, Rika stumbled down
the stairs.
W
HEN
AMY STEPPED into the parlor, Papa sat in his favorite armchair, his body as
stiff and wooden as one of his carved figurines. Mama perched next to him,
clinging to his arm.
Amy tensed and squinted at the strange scene. Her gaze met
Nattie's, and she tilted her head in a silent question.
Nattie shrugged.
"What's going on?" Amy barely managed to keep her
voice even. They weren't going to make her confess her unnatural feelings to
Nattie, were they? She pressed her hands against her churning stomach.
"Please sit down," Papa said. "We need to
talk."
Uh-oh.
No pleasant conversation ever started like
that. Her shaky knees plopped her down on the divan next to Nattie.
The mantle clock ticked away. Amy's heart pounded twice for
every beat of the clock.