A Christmas Promise by Joanna Barker & Annette Lyon & Jennifer Moore

Author:Joanna Barker & Annette Lyon & Jennifer Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Clean & wholesome romance, Christian Romance, Regency Romance, Historical Romance, Christmas Fiction
Publisher: Mirror Press, LLC
Published: 2020-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Miriam’s eyes felt like lead, heavy and immovable, but warm, as if the sun were shining on her face. So different from the searing cold of the water. The water that had brought darkness and excruciating pain with it.

What had happened? She couldn’t remember anything but a fleeting sense of terror in the stagecoach. She’d been embracing her father, but that made no sense; hadn’t he been sitting on the opposite bench?

She tried to open her eyes and succeeded in part, but she immediately turned her head and closed her eyes against the blinding sun that was indeed streaming in from a window. The movement sent a cascade of pain shooting through her body, from her head to her toes. It didn’t leave, however, only settling in her legs with intense throbs impossible to ignore. How had she not noticed that pain? What had happened to her legs? Were they caught under something?

“Where . . .” She tried to speak, but the single syllable was all that she could manage.

“There now,” a female voice said, and a figure drew near. “Lie still,” the woman said, arranging a blanket about Miriam’s figure.

She was lying on a bed, she realized, but not her own. The sunny room was unfamiliar, as was everything here, including the woman.

“You’re at the home of Dr. Wilson, dear,” the woman said, finally answering Miriam’s question, but the answer only elicited more questions from her confused and tired mind. Her expression must have said as much, because the woman went on. “You were in a stagecoach accident, and your legs are broken. The swelling will need to go down before the doctor can set the bones properly. They’re much better than even a day ago, which is excellent news.”

A stagecoach accident. So she did remember something of what had happened, but even those images in her mind were blurry and getting fainter. She swallowed, which felt like a herculean task. “My father?” she said, forcing her eyes open again.

The woman hesitated a moment, and Miriam thought she saw a flicker of worry pass through her eyes before she said, “You need to rest up and regain your strength. I’ll fetch you some broth, and if you can tolerate it well, I’ll find you something more substantive to eat for supper.”

“Miss—”

“Wilson. Mrs. Wilson.”

“My father. Where—”

The doctor’s wife interrupted again. “Oh, I believe it’s also time for another dose of laudanum, so I’ll be sure you get that as well.” She patted Miriam’s hand, which rested beside her on the bed—what might well have been the only part of her that didn’t ache—and scurried off.

Was Mrs. Wilson deliberately not telling Miriam about her father’s condition? Was he in this house? Could she see him? He had to be in far more pain than she was. They should be together. Her presence would ease his suffering, even if she couldn’t minister to him herself. She’d ask Mrs. Wilson as soon as possible.

A heavy footfall sounded outside the door of her room, followed by the figure of a man in dark clothing, wearing a coat and holding a hat.

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