Zoe repaid the man’s compliment with a nod and smile before following Mrs. Moresby. At the sight of Jane, pale and motionless on the bed closest to the door, Zoe rushed to her friend, her heartbeat picking up pace. “Jane, I’m here.”
Jane’s eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t open them.
Zoe dropped to the edge of the bed and took her friend’s hand. It was cold and waxy . . . the same way baby Eve’s had been that last morning Zoe had held her. With mounting panic, she shook her friend. “Wake up, Jane. It’s time to be going.”
A breath slipped from Jane’s lips before they curled up just slightly into a smile. “Did you find me a husband, then?”
“Aye.” Zoe kept her voice lighthearted even though the anxiety inside twisted tighter than thread around a spindle. “Found you the handsomest fella in all the colony.”
“Good.”
Zoe’s mind went back to coming ashore two days ago and the fellas she’d seen during the walk to the Marine Barracks. Thankfully, the men hadn’t seemed deterred by the dirty, disheveled state of the women and were now apparently lining up at the door to come calling on the brides.
She’d gladly give them all to Jane. “You’re coming back with me, and I’ll introduce you to your new man today.”
Jane wheezed, coughed weakly, then grew still.
Zoe picked up Jane’s colorful scarf where it had fallen on the floor and gently began to wrap it around the young woman again. Her dear friend was worse. Much worse. How had she deteriorated so quickly in just two days?
“Miss Hart,” Mrs. Moresby said from beside Dora’s bed.
Something in the older woman’s tone drew Zoe’s attention. Dora’s body was frozen in place without even the slightest rise and fall of her chest. Zoe lifted her eyes to Mrs. Moresby’s to find somber resignation.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Moresby whispered.
Zoe clutched Jane’s hand harder. “We need to be getting Jane over to the Marine Barracks right away.”
With heavy footsteps echoing ominously, Mrs. Moresby crossed the room, stood next to the bed, and stared down at Jane.
Zoe tugged at Jane and forced a smile. “Or maybe we should go right to the church and have the wedding today.”
Again, Jane’s lips curved, but barely.
“That’s my girl.” Zoe leaned in and brushed a kiss across Jane’s forehead. It was just as cold and waxy as the rest of her, as cold and waxy as the face of her precious niece when Zoe had found her dead in her crib.
Eve had been only six weeks old. Had been so full of life and energy. Had filled Zoe’s heart with such love. And had given her purpose when she’d had none.
The babe had been too young to die. . . .
A sharp pang reverberated in Zoe’s chest, and she took a deep breath to force the pain away. She couldn’t think of Eve right now. This situation was different. Jane was still breathing and talking. With the right kind of care, Jane would regain her strength and be as good as new.
As Zoe sat back up, she caught Mrs. Moresby studying her, the woman’s eyes saying everything Zoe didn’t want to hear.
Zoe smoothed back her friend’s limp hair. “I’m sure your driver would help us carry her out.”
Mrs. Moresby shook her head.
“Please.” This time Zoe reached for Mrs. Moresby’s hand. She would have gotten on her knees and begged the woman, except Mrs. Moresby placed her other hand on Zoe’s shoulder and pinned her in place.
“If we move her,” Mrs. Morseby said softly, “we’ll kill her.”
Zoe’s throat constricted.
“She has to stay here.”
Mrs. Moresby was right. “Then I’ll be staying here and helping her is all.” She jutted her chin and dared Mrs. Moresby to stop her.
“Of course you will.” The matron’s expression was tender. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
At the sight of a woman sitting on the edge of the bed, Abe halted abruptly, his frame filling the hospital room doorway. Mrs. Moresby hadn’t indicated anyone else would be present when she’d sought out a reverend earlier to perform last rites for the dying bride-ship woman.
Apparently, one of the women had already died and the second would soon join her companion in the afterlife.
Abe took in the unmoving form of the patient lying on the bed. She was so silent and still that Abe guessed he was too late, that she’d already passed. At least she’d had someone present with her during her last moments.
He shifted his attention to the friend. Holding the woman’s hands along with a colorful scarf, she was bent over with head bowed. Half of her dark hair had come loose from the knot at the base of her neck, and long wavy strands fell over her shoulders in disarray.
Hearing the muffled sniffles and seeing the slight shaking of her thin shoulders, Abe stepped into the room, compassion stirring within him. Even though he’d encountered plenty of death during his years as a minister, he hadn’t ever learned how to remain detached the way some of his friends had, not even with complete strangers.
Trying not to disturb the grieving woman, he treaded lightly and circled to the other side of the bed. Towering above the patient, he couldn’t see any evidence of life in her pale features or any movement in her chest to indicate breathing.
He wouldn’t be able to offer up any prayers on her behalf, but he could pray for this grieving one she’d left behind. He bowed his head. Bring her comfort, Lord. Let her know you love her and that she’s not alone.
At a sharp intake of breath, he lifted his head to find that she was sitting up, averting her head, and rapidly swiping her cheeks. “I didn’t know I wasn’t alone.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you—” Words fled as she shifted and gave him full view of her face, her beautiful face, the same face of the bride-ship woman he’d noticed coming ashore the other day.
Up close, she was even prettier in spite of her tousled appearance. Her eyes were a dark green, made darker by the long lashes that framed them. Her high cheekbones were elegant, her lips a deep rose, and her chin gently rounded.
Even though she’d tried to dry the evidence of her crying, tears still clung to her lashes and streaked her cheeks. Dark half circles under her eyes testified to sleeplessness. And the hopelessness in her expression spoke of previous pains that made this parting even worse.
Nevertheless, her beauty was mesmerizing, her body willowy, like a forest nymph from a Greek tale, with a tiny waist and gentle curves. He shifted on his feet, suddenly realizing he was much too conscious of her appearance.
This was neither the time nor place to concern himself with the beauty of one of the bride-ship women. Actually, he didn’t ever need to concern himself over the beauty of one of the newly arrived women. He was present to offer spiritual guidance. That was all.
“I am very sorry for your loss, Miss . . . ?” He attempted to speak in his kindest, gentlest tone, the one that never failed to put people at ease.
“Zoe Hart.” She glanced down at the bed and blinked back more tears.
He smoothed a hand over the cover of his Bible, drawing comfort from its solid presence in so difficult a situation. “People around here call me Pastor Abe.”