Men came alongside to help Michael the short distance to the medical building.
The crowd dispersed, whispering and staring at Tariana – everyone knew Michael was sweet on Frances.
When Tariana and Jamie were the only two left standing, she turned her attention from the men off in the distance and cast the saddest eyes Jamie had ever seen in his direction. He took her hand, and they headed toward the small hospital that Doc ran with the help of a part-time nurse.
“Did you think it odd that he called me his love?” she asked, clinging to Jamie’s hand. “He’s never done that before.”
“That’s because you are not his love – Frances is.” Surely the girl wouldn’t welcome this crisis as a victory in her desperate attempt to win his affections.
Tariana did not respond to his statement. Instead, she leaned against his arm. “Thank you for saving Michael’s life, Jamie. God placed you in the right place at the right time.”
“I should return to work. Will you be all right?”
“Don’t worry about me, Jamie. And please, be careful – working on a boat under construction is a dangerous job.”
He nodded and turned back toward the ship. Jamie would not acknowledge the agony he’d felt while following a safe distance behind Tariana and Michael on their tour, or how he’d turned in disgust when she’d bellowed a greeting to him from the ship’s deck while he marched down the plankway to the dock. It was as if his heart meant nothing to her, which was probably the case. They were merely friends; always had been. It was time to face her rejection and move on before he became as desperate and lost as she.
Tariana hurried toward the infirmary alone. When she passed Bessie’s Tailor Shop, she thought of Frances. Had she heard the news of the accident? More relevant to their relationship, had she heard of Michael’s slip of the tongue? Many townspeople had, and it was only a matter of time before she’d confront her about it.
Seeing no signs of activity in the reception area, she pushed on, rounded the corner and entered Doctor Shamar’s office. Nurse Betty was busy collecting supplies in the cupboard, but she recognized her at once.
“Miss Gracin,” she beckoned to her, “do you have a strong constitution?”
“I suppose I do,” Tariana said.
“It appears the young man refuses to let us work on his leg without talking to you first.”
Tariana bit her lip. Good. The misunderstanding would be remedied before Frances showed up. “Certainly. He needs to be treated. Please, take me to him.”
Michael lay on the cot, a white sheet covering his body. Only his bare arms and damaged leg showed. Cuts and deep gashes from something he’d hit on his descent had gouged the skin and bone on his left leg.
Doc cleared his throat when he spotted her and motioned for her to come over. “My stubborn patient places love before his healing. He should have stayed unconscious.” Doc spoke harshly, but Tariana saw the concern in his face; something was wrong.
When Michael turned to face Tariana, his countenance changed from hopelessness to relief. He reached out for her hand. “Don’t you mind this old grump. There’s no wedding band on his finger, so he knows nothing of putting a woman’s mind at ease.”
Tariana walked slowly toward him. At his bedside, he grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips. “It looks worse than it is. Just some scratches and a bump on the head. Wanted to make sure my girl was all right before he put me to sleep. Says I can’t stand the pain, and he’s probably right. Might as well know: I’m a bit of a wimp in that department.” She continued to stare unable to speak. “Say something before the Doc gives up on treating me and goes home, leaving me to fester with my injuries.”
“I’m fine, Michael. Relieved you are still alive.”
“Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easy, did you?”
Tariana cast an inquisitive glance at the doctor who shrugged his shoulders and pointed to his head. Did he mean that Michael had a head injury? Was that what caused him to believe that Tariana was his betrothed and not Frances? Her dream had come true, but she did not want to achieve it in such deceit – she was not entirely evil. Her sister would be furious to see the tables turned and Tariana replacing her in Michael’s affections.
“No one wants to be rid of you, Michael.”
She was still groping for words to contradict his misguided attention when the doctor interrupted. “We’ve no time for this now. His wounds must be treated, cleaned, and bandaged before infection sets in.”
Tariana attempted to step back, but Michael pulled her hand under his chin. “You will stay, won’t you? Someone’s got to keep an eye on the man with a knife aimed at my leg.”
Doctor Shamar moved to the head of the bed, a chloroformed cloth in his hand, which he placed over Michael’s nose and mouth to let him breathe in the vapors. “Good night, Michael. See you in the morning.”
Tariana watched Michael’s face relax, and his lids grow heavy until they finally closed, but his grip remained strong. Before she could disengage, Frances barged into the room. Her eyes went immediately to her sister, who was holding her future husband’s hand.
“Tariana!” she barked. “Remember your place.”
“It’s not entirely her fault, missy,” Doc said. “The man was knocked out and appears to be disillusioned at the moment. He’s finding it hard to place people. Your sister merely offered him the comfort he needed while I gave him something to knock him out.”
Frances marched to the bed, yanked their hands apart, and
