Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [46]
A young nun, her head bowed over her rosary, kept silent watch by the bedside and the only sound in the room was Francie’s labored breathing. Josh sank instinctively to his knees and folded his hands together in silent prayer, hardly daring to look at Francie, but when he did he saw that the ravages of death were already tearing at her. They had cut her beautiful blond hair to defeat the fever, there were dark bluish-gray shadows beneath her eyes, her cheeks were sunken, and her bloodless lips parted as she struggled for breath. And her bony, lifeless hands were folded across her breasts as though she were already laid out for her coffin.
Impulsively Josh reached out and took her thin hand in his; it was icy cold but he could feel the slow uncertain beat of her pulse and knew she was still clinging to life. “Francie,” he whispered, as though afraid of disturbing her sleep. “Francie. I’m here to help you. I’m sorry they hurt you, Francie, but I promise you, on my honor, nobody will ever hurt you again. I will look after you now, I give you my solemn word.” He stayed for a long time, talking to her, but there was no response, and after an hour or so, he left her to her sleep.
He went to see her every day, twice a day when he could, hurrying over in the early mornings before the bar opened and returning again before his evening shift. But it was always the same. She lay still as death, her eyes firmly closed against the world that hated her, her lips sealed to a world that did not understand her, and her body longing to escape from a place that did not want her. Josh knew that Francie wanted to die, he felt her longing for release and he didn’t know what to do, so he talked to her, holding her hands, stroking her face gently as he whispered in her ear, telling her about himself.
“When you are better, Francie, I’ll take you back to my home. You’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the Yorkshire moors, my little lass, and the sheep in the dales; the best wool in the world, they have, and all woven in our Yorkshire mills….”
He stopped, remembering suddenly the reason he had come to San Francisco, then he sighed deeply and added, “Aye, mebbe one day, Francie, I’ll be able to take you there. When I can go home again.”
Sammy told him every night that he was a fool. “You hardly know her,” he said, drinking deeply on his beer and leaning angrily over the counter so Josh could better hear what he had to say. “She’s trouble, that lass. She’s already cost you your job and a beating. Ain’t that enough for you? If she dies her father will be there to claim the body, and if she lives—which is unlikely, he’ll be there to take her home and make sure she causes him no more trouble. You are the one who’s looking for trouble, Josh Aysgarth, just the way you always do.”
Sammy slammed his empty beer glass threateningly on the counter, glaring at Josh as he buttoned his jacket, ready to face the cold rainy night. “You’d best take heed of me this time, Josh Aysgarth, because you know what happens when you don’t. Remember the last time?”
Josh watched as he walked angrily away, wondering as he always did how it was, when the two of them were so different, they had been best friends all their lives. He loved Sammy all right, but there were things about him that, friend or not, Sammy would never understand, and a part of Sammy he would never understand.
Still, Sammy was right, he thought, gloomily wiping the beer stains from the counter; there was no way Mr. Harrison would let his daughter go, even if she didn’t die.
“Daydreamin’ again, are ya, Josh?” the saloonkeeper shouted irritably across the room. “Well, I’m telling ya, this’ll be the last time. Get movin’ and serve them customers or you’ll be back out on the street where y’came from.”
Spurred on by the threat, Josh jolted into action, but Sammy’s words haunted him and he remembered what had happened last time he had ignored his advice and gone his own way. He shuddered as he thought about their escape, running through the dark, rainy night, running and running, terrified. And Sammy