Love, Surprising

Chapter 19: Caroline

June 1786

Independence to Abingdon

Why does my leg hurt so much? I stretched and opened my eyes. Where am I? My eyes swept over the room. I was lying on a simple bed, covered with a woolen blanket. A fireplace graced the far wall and a table and chairs were at the other end of the room. Timothy sat in one of the chairs at the table. Hearing my stirrings, he turned to face me. I noticed he'd changed. Gone were his torn trousers and bloody shirt. He was now dressed in dark brown trousers and a clean white shirt. A smile brightened his face and he strode over to me.

"How are you feeling Caroline?" Timothy asked me, stroking my hair.

"I feel rested, but my leg burns a little." I winced, attempting not to reveal how much my leg truly hurt. Timothy saw right through my façade.

"How bad is it really?" Timothy inquired sternly.

"It hurts a lot." I whispered. "I'm afraid to look at it." I swallowed a lump in my throat. Timothy turned and called towards the door of the cabin.

"Mother, Caroline needs assistance changing her bandages. She might have a slight infection." Timothy summoned his mother.

"Coming!" Martha called from outside. She bustled in with a pail of water and set it on the floor beside the bed. "You wait outside son. I'll take care of your woman." Timothy's mother waved a towel at him, shooing him from the cabin.

"I'll be right out here if you need me Caroline." Timothy reassured me. I smiled at his concern.

"I think I'll be okay Timothy. I doubt your mother bites." Grinning, I let Timothy know I'd be fine. He smiled back at me and left the cabin. Martha bustled around, gathering the items she'd need to fix up my leg. Then she sat on a stool beside the bed.

"Now, let's see that leg." Martha said, rolling down the blanket and moving back my shift so the wound was visible. With skilled fingers, Martha unwrapped the dirty bandages and set them in an empty pail. I clenched my eyes shut, afraid to look at my leg. "It's alright dear, it's only a bit swollen. Nothing to fret about." Timothy's mother patted my arm, reassuring me. I peeked at the wound. She was right. The wound was still bright red and the skin surrounding it was puffy, but there was no pus or any other signs of infection. I sighed, relieved. Martha began to wash the wound, pouring water over the hot skin.

"Timothy appears quite taken with you." Martha remarked, eyes focused on her task. I felt heat rising into my cheeks. "How do you feel about my son?" Martha looked up at my face. I swallowed, my stomach fluttering.

"I love him." I stated, summing up my feelings. It's true. I do love him. It just took me a couple weeks to realize it.

"Why is that?" Timothy's mother asked. I shrugged.

"Timothy isn't like other men I know. He's kind and compassionate. He always sits and listens to me, he accepts my opinion. Timothy was willing to help someone he didn't know, journeying days to save me. His smile can fill a whole room. I've never met anyone quite like him." I shared, love swelling in my heart. Martha nodded her head.

"Timothy's a special one, my boy. He grew up well." Martha finished cleaning my leg and rewrapped it. "Now," Martha stood, "Let's find you some clean garments to wear and then we can meet Timothy outside and wait for my husband to return with news of Edward." She rummaged around in a trunk at the foot of the bed and removed a forest green dress and some clean undergarments. "I hope these fit. I think we're about the same size. They're a mite simple, I hope you don't mind."

"They're perfect, thank you." I smiled at the woman, accepting the garments.

"I'll leave you alone to dress, unless you think you need assistance." Martha said, picking up the soiled bandages and water from the floor. I shook my head.