The Enchanted Land Read online

  “Seth.” She began to push him away. The alarm blocked out all passion. “Seth! Where’s Adam?”

  “He’s probably still asleep,” he whispered into her ear. His hand was on her body, stroking the soft curve of her hip.

  “No. Adam never sleeps late, at least not in his own room. I have to go see. Something’s wrong.”

  Seth drew back and stared down into her face. He saw the concern, the fear. He started to tell her how silly she was, but he stopped. He’d have the rest of his life to talk about Adam. Right now she needed reassurance. “Well, go then. And then you can come back here. Better yet, I’ll go with you and then I’ll make sure you come back with me.” He held her close to him as they went to Adam’s room. “I don’t plan to let you out of my room for at least two weeks. Adam can pound on the door for hours, but I need you more than he does. See,” they stood in the child’s doorway, “he looks like a little cherub.”

  Morgan frowned. Adam was too peaceful. Something was wrong. Every morning Carol had to remake Adam’s bed from the sheets up because he tore everything off during the night. This morning the light quilt was still tucked in, not in its usual place on the floor. Quickly, she crossed the room and smoothed his hair from his forehead. His face was hot, very hot.

  Her face drained of color and she turned to Seth. Instantly, he was beside his son, his large hands holding the boy’s head. His neck was swollen and his skin was almost burning. Adam whimpered at his father’s touch. Seth’s face held the same look as Morgan’s. “I’ll get the doctor.” His voice was harsh, reflecting a depth of fear he’d never known before.

  Minutes later, Morgan heard him running down the stairs, and then there were the sounds of a horse’s hooves.

  Morgan was numb. She dropped to her knees and took her son’s little hand. It was so dry and so very, very hot. Adam had never been sick. He couldn’t be sick. He was too little to bear pain. “Adam, sweetheart,” she whispered as she held the listless little hand to her cheek.

  Adam’s eyelids fluttered. “Mama.” His voice was rough, barely audible. He swallowed and his eyes screwed up tightly as he tried to stand the pain.

  “I’m here, baby. Mama’s right here and Daddy’s gone for the doctor. When he gets here, he’ll make you well. You’ll feel better then. The doctor will make it all stop hurting.”

  “Mrs. Colter!” Roselle entered the room. “I heard Mr. Blake running down the stairs. Is everything all right?” She stopped when she saw Morgan’s face. Never had she seen such bleakness, such despair. She looked at Adam, too quiet, his mother holding his hand. “Adam!” She touched his burning little forehead and her eyes drooped.

  Once before, this had happened. She was reliving that time. Her little girl had been like Adam, and about his age, too. Sarah, her sweet, always-active little girl. One morning she’d found her in her bed, so quiet and so hot. In less than a week, she’d died. She’d never really gotten over Sarah, or the pain of washing and dressing that sweet little body for the final time. Please, dear God, don’t let it all happen again.

  “What can I do?” Morgan’s eyes implored the older woman.

  Roselle tried to control her rising hysteria. “Did Mr. Blake go for the doctor?”

  “Seth. He’s not Mr. Blake, he’s Seth Colter, Adam’s daddy.” She stroked Adam’s hand and arm.

  “I thought so.” Roselle had to calm herself and calm Morgan. She left the room and returned with a dress and underclothes. She lifted Morgan from her knees and began dressing her, as if she were a child. She kept up a steady stream of talk. “It’s probably just one of those childhood things, the things children always get. I’m sure he’ll be well in no time at all.”

  “Adam’s never sick. He’s never even had a bad cold.”

  “Well, then, it’s time he had one.” Roselle tried not to let the fear into her voice.

  “He’s so still. Why isn’t he yelling, ‘Eat, eat,’ like he always does? Adam.” She fell to her knees again. “Mommy will get you some chicken. Would you like some chicken? Or cookies? Would Mommy’s baby like some cookies?”

  Adam made a great effort to open his eyes. Morgan gasped at the pain she saw in them.

  Roselle put her arm around the other woman’s shoulders, forcefully lifting her. “Please, Mrs. Colter, sit here.” She pulled a chair close to the bed. “Adam doesn’t want to eat now. Just wait until the doctor comes. He’ll know what to do.” She started toward the door. “I’ll send Carol up with some breakfast for you.”

  When Morgan was alone, she felt the full fear rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. For some reason, Roselle’s statement that Adam didn’t want to eat was more frightening than his extraordinary quiet or even his fever-ridden little body. Adam always ate. He was born hungry and his little life was controlled by food. His first word had been “Eat!” It had not been a quiet attempt at the word, but one day it had just exploded from his lips in a demand. She remembered how she and Jake, Lupita and Paul, had all laughed. Adam had ignored them. He had demanded food and he expected it to be served to him.

  Adam didn’t want to eat. The words repeated themselves over and over in her brain. His face was flushed, the fever making his cheeks a vivid red. That couldn’t be Adam, she thought. Adam was always a blur of motion. He’s playing a game, to make me bake him some cookies. Yes, that’s what he wants. I’ll bake him thousands of cookies, but I can’t go to the kitchen now because I must be here when he opens his eyes.

  She stroked his forehead. It was so dry. Adam was usually wet. He sweat all the time, just like his father. He played hard, running and laughing so much that perspiration often soaked his hair.

  “When you get over your bad cold, Adam, Mommy will bake you some cookies, and some little cakes with lots of icing. We’ll write ‘Adam’ on them and ‘horse’ and ‘eat’ … and we’ll draw pictures.”

  Adam opened his eyes and stared at his mother in bewilderment. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. In his whole life, the only pain he’d experienced was scraped knees and skinned elbows. When those things had happened, he’d gone to his mother and her kisses had made the hurt stop. Now his mother was here and the pain didn’t go away. He didn’t understand, not at all.

  Morgan didn’t know how long she sat there. She was vaguely aware of Roselle and Carol entering and leaving the room. A few times she heard someone telling her to eat. The lump was still in her throat and she knew she could swallow nothing. Didn’t they understand that if her baby couldn’t eat, then neither could she?

  She heard voices outside the door and recognized Seth’s. He’d have the doctor. She felt relief flood her body. “The doctor’s here, baby. He’ll make you well. He’ll make the pain go away.”

  She ran to meet Seth. “Where’s the doctor?”

  “He’s coming. Is he any better?”

  “No, Seth. He’s so hot. So hot, and he’s so little.”

  Seth held his wife’s hand. It was cold. They went together to Adam’s bed. Seth’s fears mounted. In the few hours since he’d been gone, Adam looked as if he’d shrunk. His entire face was red, splattered with ghostly white splotches.

  “This is Dr. Larson, Morgan, and this is Mrs. Colter.”

  “Our son, doctor! He’s so little and he hurts. He’s never been sick before.”

  Seth took her arm, quieting her. He noticed she’d said “our son.” He was glad she was ready to admit their relationship because, in his haste, he had given the doctor his real name.

  “I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Colter.”

  The doctor, an older, corpulent man, pulled back the covers and began to examine Adam. As he pulled up Adam’s nightshirt, Morgan gasped at the redness. Seth’s grip on her arm tightened.

  “I think this is the culprit.” He turned Adam’s leg to show a bump, large and inflamed, on the calf of his left leg. “It seems to be some kind of insect bite.”

  “Some kind? What kind? What kind of insect bite?!”

  “That, Mrs. Colter,