Beast and Beatrice

Chapter Twenty- Gilbert

  Gilbert stepped out of the ruined church with every intention of finding Beatrice and the children. He was filthy and exhausted, but there was a warm sense of pride bubbling inside his chest. He had faced down his fear and saved a life in the process. The fact that it was the unpleasant Narwhal he rescued, well, that was even better. The pompous old windbag would be feasting on crow for a long time to come.

  After that scream wrent the air, he simply ran into the smoke. He hadn't even paused to consider the danger. There was no time for fear, no time to think. A life hung in the balance. Before he realized it, he was searching among that smoldering rubble for the unknown victim. It had taken several long moments of searching, but with Sumter's help, he located the helpless man trapped underneath a pile of smoldering debris.

They had set right to work, shifting endless charred beams and blackened boards. They both suffered multiple burns in the process, but neither one was deterred. It wasn't until they heaved off the last smoldering beam and saw the man that they were both surprised to discover Narwhal. The portly merchant was unconscious but alive. He had several burns and scrapes, but other than the egg-sized lump on his head, he seemed unharmed. What exactly he was doing in that burned-out building when the rest of the villagers had evacuated the town, Gilbert didn't know and couldn't care less. He had no interest in the shopkeepers' motives.

Sumter helped Gilbert haul the chubby shopkeeper up and drape him over his shoulder. Narwhal was far too bloated for two men to safely ferry him through all the scattered debris, and Gilbert was the only man capable of lifting the portly merchant by himself. It was a struggle maneuvering through the debris field, but with Sumter's steadying hand, they managed to reach the bridge and cart the injured man to safety. The skinny clerk returned to help the others stamp out the last of the flames as Gilbert continued on to the makeshift hospital set up in the old church. After depositing Narwhal into the care of the priest, Gilbert quickly put the blustery merchant out of his mind.

More than ready to return to Beatrice and the children, he hurried back out into the open air. He was looking forward to embracing the children, hearing their happy voices, and seeing their smiling faces. A huge yawn caught him unawares. He really needed to lay down somewhere and rest, but he was determined to find them all first, just to reassure himself of their well-being. No sooner had he emerged from the shadows than he caught sight of Beatrice surrounded by all three children. He almost sighed in relief. They were safe and unharmed.

  Beatrice looked as exhausted as he was. He didn't see any obvious injuries, although she was coated in soot and grime. Her pretty bonnet was missing, and so was her skirt. She stood there in that blue-gray blouse top and linen bloomers, bringing to mind the soaked cloth that had been passed through the line of men. More than one fellow had been grateful to have such an effective weapon to beat back the flames. He hadn't even thought to ask where the cloth came from. He glanced around and noticed a few other women without skirts. So that was how the women had managed it. He admired their bravery. How resourceful they were to think of such an ingenious solution.

  As he hurried toward the little group, he met Beatrice's gaze with a smile that she seemed to return. But then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she sagged into unconsciousness. Gilbert raced forward, the smile on his lips dying as he attempted to catch Beatrice before she landed on her face. But he needn't have worried.

  Teddy, who still had his arms around his aunt, managed to support her slight weight as she slumped against his chest. The boy was surprisingly strong for his size, but it was obvious he was straining under the unexpected burden. Gilbert arrived in time to relieve the lad of her weight and hastily scooped Beatrice up into his arms.

"What's wrong with Aunt Bea?" Felicia asked, frowning in concern.

"Is she sick?" Martine piped.

  Gilbert shook his head, negatively hoping he was being truthful. He prayed Beatrice wasn't having a relapse. She wasn't that long out of the sick bed herself. If he was tired, she must be doubly so. He laid a hand against her forehead and felt some relief. At least she didn't feel excessively warm, although her clothes were soaked with the sweat of her exertion.