Eleven
Thank goodness you thought to sing loudly or we might never have found you.”
“Oh Claude, I can’t thank you enough, I can’t.” They carried Rebecca between them toward William’s boat.
“Will Dr. Hazzard be upset?” Rebecca spoke, breathless.
“Yes, Rebecca, she will be, but not from anything you did. You just need to rest in the hotel. We’ll get you well and then we’ll go home.”
Grace wished she could see Claude’s face in the moonlight, but it was nearing dawn and it was always darkest then. She felt the grip of his fingers against hers as they held Rebecca between them. Strong hands. Caring hands.
William waited, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You got them, Doc. Good for you!”
“Miss Hathaway did her part.”
“I’ve no doubt of that, sir. None at all. Come then, let’s get the little lady in. You first, Miss Hathaway, then we’ll hand—”
“Mrs. Holmes,” Grace told him. “My very best friend.”
“Here she be then. Light as Cook’s biscuit.”
“Yes, she is,” Grace said. “But not for long!”
“Take care of them, William. And then come back.”
“I’m going back to look after Dora Williamson and the others, until we can make arrangements for all of their care.” Claude kissed the top of Grace’s head as she bobbed in the boat.
“Of course you are!” Grace said. “You’re the nourishment to this long-hungering life of suffering. I’ll come back to help as soon as I can.”
The noon sun filtered between the trees, casting happy shadows on the hotel porch where Grace and Claude drank coffee. Rebecca was sound asleep in the room she’d share with Grace until she was well. Claude had returned after setting a new regimen for patients to ensure their survival, and the constable already had both Hazzards in custody.
“How did you know to come?” Grace said.
“You didn’t make the evening crossing. Nor the morning one. I asked William about you. He was noncommittal, saying something about your having left, checked out of the hotel. When I got back, I learned you had indeed done so and I couldn’t believe you’d have gone without saying goodbye.” He looked like a small boy, his eyes downcast when he said next, “I guess it was a man’s pride, to think you wouldn’t leave without that goodbye. Something had moved between us, Grace Hathaway.” He lifted her chin. “And I simply couldn’t accept that I’d been all alone on my journey toward a shared heart.”
“You weren’t. I traveled there too, with bells on my toes and music on my lips.”
He leaned to kiss her and she took the love he offered, wasting no time in kissing him back.
“It occurred to me,” Claude said, holding her fingers in his, “that you just might be pretending to be a visitor but had somehow, in your beautiful addled brain, decided to become a patient, to get closer to Rebecca.” He whispered across her cheek into her ear. “I knew that if they gave you those potions, you might not be thinking well. William finally confessed and I decided around midnight that I couldn’t wait until morning to find out if you were all right. Maybe that was crazy, but it turned out to be providential.”
She loved the warmth of his breath, the brush of those eyebrows at her temple. She couldn’t have been more satisfied than if she’d eaten a chocolate cake all by herself. “Love can addle a brain,” Grace said.
“Most definitely,” Claude said, then kissed her again.
Grace was totally filled up.