The Sound of Snow by Katherine Kingsley

Author:Katherine Kingsley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION/Romance/Regency
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-09-16T16:00:00+00:00

16

Guy stood, stretching his stiff back. He wandered over to the window and looked out. The snow still fell lightly, but he barely saw it. Five days. Five days, and Joanna’s fever still hadn’t broken. The doctor had said that a crisis would eventually come, that there was no way of knowing whether Joanna’s strength would rally or whether she’d succumb to her illness.

He turned and walked back to her bed, his hand massaging the back of his aching neck, then moving over his tired, scratchy eyes. He couldn’t lose her—he refused to entertain the possibility. He’d keep her going by sheer force of will if necessary.

He sat down again in the chair next to her bed and picked up her hot hand, holding her slim fingers tightly. “Joanna. Joanna, sweet, wake up. Miles misses you, the whole household misses you—they’re all walking around with long faces, hardly speaking above a whisper, half of them in tears. It seems no one can manage without you, myself included.”

She turned her head on the pillow, mumbling something under her breath that he couldn’t make out. Little wonder: She’d been delirious for the last four days and nights. He knew—he’d barely left her side since Margaret had sounded the alarm the afternoon of the storm.

He bowed his head into his hands, overcome with guilt. If it hadn’t been for him, she wouldn’t be hovering between life and death. She’d never have ridden into the woods, never have been caught in the blizzard. He had only himself to blame, only himself.

“Papa?”

Guy looked up to see Miles standing in the doorway of the bedroom, Boscoe at his side and a large piece of paper dangling from his hand.

Guy smiled at him wearily and held his hand out. “Come in, Miles.”

Miles moved quickly to his side and pressed against his thigh, one small hand going out to cover Joanna’s. “Is Jojo better yet?” he asked, turning his large brown eyes on his father.

“Not yet,” Guy said, giving him a squeeze around his waist. “We have to be patient.” He pressed a kiss on the top of his son’s head.

“She’s still very hot, Papa,” Miles said solemnly. “I think you should squeeze more water on her.”

“Wendy is just bringing up a fresh basin,” he said. “What do you have there?”

“A painting for Jojo,” Miles said. “I made it specially for her. I think she will like to see it when she wakes up.”

“May I look?” Guy asked.

Miles nodded and held it out.

If Guy could think of anything good that had come out of this catastrophe, it was his developing relationship with Miles. Bound by a common concern for Joanna, they both kept a vigil, Miles surprisingly calm and steady—indeed, more so than his father.

Guy couldn’t help but be gratified at how well Miles had come along—he was mostly back to his old self, only without any of the nervousness and excitability he’d shown when his mother was alive. Miles was the most shining example of how easily Joanna reached out and touched lives, touched hearts, never demanding anything in return.

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