Chapter 31 - One Last Spring

Owen was watching for them, and as Mair and Gwen approached the house, he opened the door. “Thank you for coming, Gwen,” he said.

“How is he?” Mair asked, hurrying to stand at the doorway to the front room.

“He’s been sleeping fitfully since you left,” Owen said, rubbing his hand across the worry lines on his face. “I’ve brought in some peat, Gwen. You’ll need to light a fire to take the chill off the room. There’s blankets, sheets, a jug of water, and cups. You let me know what else he needs, and I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” she said.

“Let her go in to him now, Owen,” Mair said anxiously.

Owen immediately stood aside, and Gwen stepped into the room. It had the cool, damp feel of a room that had been shut up for some time. She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and quietly approached the sofa. Lewis was sprawled across it, his long limbs hanging off the side. His face was pale, and sweat glistened across his forehead. His dark hair lay limp as though he’d run his fingers through it over and over again, and he was muttering incoherently, tossing his head back and forth as if arguing with someone.

Gwen dropped to her knees beside the sofa and placed her hand gently on his forehead. He was far too hot.

“No, Mam.” Lewis’s eyes were still closed, his voice hoarse. “No, you mustn’t be here.”

“It’s all right, Lewis,” she said. “It’s Gwen. You don’t have to worry; you can’t give me the measles.”

His eyelids fluttered open, and he looked at her with glassy eyes. “Gwennie?”

“Yes,” she said, softly stroking his hair back from his forehead.

His eyelids closed again, but this time his breathing was more even.

Gwen scrambled to her feet and ran back to the doorway. “His temperature’s very high,” she told his waiting parents. “I have to cool him down somehow. Can you bring me a bucket of water and some rags?”

Instantly, Owen took off toward the kitchen.

“You must strip him down to his trousers,” Mair said.

Gwen swallowed hard. Mair was right; she knew it. But the thought of taking off Lewis’s shirt . . . She wasn’t sure if she could.

“Do it, Gwen.”

Mair’s urgency cut through Gwen’s discomfort. She raced back to the sofa. Lewis had already taken off his boots; they were lying in a heap on the floor beneath a small table. Quickly she peeled off his socks and added them to the pile. Then she moved up to the other end of the sofa. The top two buttons on Lewis’s shirt were already undone. Gwen knelt and, taking a quick, fortifying breath, started to undo the next button. Her fingers trembled as they came in contact with his chest, but the heat emanating from his skin and his sweat-drenched shirt helped keep her focus on the desperate need to bring down his fever.

She was working on the last button when Lewis’s hand suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“No, Gwennie. What are you doing?” he mumbled.

“You have a fever,” Gwen said, biting her lip to stop the tears from coming. Her chest hurt to see him like this. “Please, Lewis. I have to take your shirt off.”

“Shirt off,” he repeated, letting her go and struggling to raise himself.

The moment Gwen had the button undone, she placed her arm around him and tried to help him sit upright. By the time he was sitting, he was shivering violently, and sweat was dripping off his face. Gwen grabbed one sleeve and tugged. It slid off his arm. Quickly she pulled the fabric around his back and pulled on the second sleeve. It was harder to work around the sofa cushions, but at last she pulled it free. She wadded up the shirt and used it to wipe his forehead.

“I have them, Gwen,” Owen called from the doorway.

“Can you stay upright a few more minutes, Lewis?” Gwen asked.

He gave a faint nod, lowering his head to his chest as though the effort of holding it up was too much.

Gwen ran to Owen, seized the bucket and small pile of towels from his extended hands, and rushed back. Placing the bucket beside the sofa, she dunked one of the towels into the water.

“This might not feel good at first,” she warned Lewis.

Again he gave a small nod. She rung out the towel just enough that it wouldn’t drip all over the sofa, then she laid it across his shoulders.

Lewis’s head jerked upright as the wet towel touched his burning skin. “Cold,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I know it is. I’m so sorry,” Gwen said, already dropping the next towel into the water.

She wiped his neck and draped the towel over his chest. She wasn’t sure what had happened to the scrawny little-boy body he’d had when she’d watched him and Robert swimming in the Vyrnwy River years ago. The muscular torso currently under the wet towel was much harder to ignore. She turned away to soak another towel in the bucket.

This time, after she’d rung it out, she began to gently wipe his face. He kept his eyes closed as she moved the damp cloth along his hairline and across the stubble developing on his chin. Red dots were starting to emerge around his ears.

“I’m going to get you a drink of water before you lie down again,” she said.

He nodded his understanding and sat silently until she returned with a cup. She tried offering it to him, but his hand shook too much to grasp it properly, so she raised the cup to his lips herself. He took a tiny sip and moaned.

“I know it hurts to swallow,” Gwen said, “but you need to get as much down as you can.”

Lewis opened his mouth again, and she tipped the cup. He managed to drink half of it before pushing it away. Gwen put the cup on the floor and took the wet towels off his body.

“Go ahead and lie down,” she said, holding on to one arm to help support him as he lowered himself onto the sofa.

As soon as he was prone, she covered him with a clean sheet and placed another folded wet towel across his forehead.

“Try to sleep now,” she said quietly, but his eyes were already closed, and when she tucked his hand under the sheet, he didn’t move.

Slowly Gwen got to her feet and walked over to the doorway.

“Bless you, bach,” Mair said as Gwen stopped a few feet from her. “Watching from a distance may be the hardest thing I’ve ever done; I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re with him.”

“I hate to see him so poorly,” Gwen said, suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of her task. “I just hope I can . . .”

“Of course you can,” Mair said, interrupting her. “In two weeks’ time, this will all be behind us, and Lewis will be back to his normal self.”

Trying to draw strength from the older woman, Gwen reminded herself that just because her parents had both died from measles complications did not mean Lewis would suffer the same fate. He was capable of a full recovery, and she would do everything in her power to help him attain it.

“Now,” Mair said. “I have to feel as though I’m doing something to help, so I’m going to go to the kitchen to make up some broth. When Lewis wakes, perhaps you can see if he’ll take any of it. The more fluids we can get down him, the better. Owen has gone to open the smithy, but he can be back right away if we need him.”

“I’ll start a fire,” Gwen said. “I know the room mustn’t be too hot, but it will be good to get rid of the chill in the air.”

“That’s it,” Mair said. She gave Gwen an encouraging smile. “Come to the kitchen and get me if you need anything or if there’s any change in Lewis.”

Mair headed down the hall to the back of the house, and Gwen picked up the basket of peat and carried it to the fireplace. The grate had been swept clean, so it was not difficult to lay the peat in place and start it burning. Gwen sat back on her heels for a few minutes, watching as the tiny flames begin to lick the dry fuel. When she was sure the fire had taken, she put the basket on the hearth so she could replenish the peat as it was consumed, then went back to the sofa.

She carefully removed the towel from Lewis’s forehead, rinsed it in the bucket, squeezed some of the water out, and replaced it. He didn’t move. Thankful that he was sleeping more peacefully, she picked up his boots, socks, and shirt and put them in a small pile far from the door so Mair would not be tempted to wash the contaminated clothing herself. Then she sat on the floor and leaned against the sofa, listening to the comforting sound of Lewis’s breathing.

Gwen replaced the damp cloth on Lewis’s forehead three times before he stirred. She’d just returned to her spot on the floor when she became aware that his eyes were open and he was watching her.

“Hello,” she said, unexpectedly shy. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m sorry, Gwennie,” he said. His voice sounded a little stronger, but perhaps he still wasn’t thinking clearly.

“It’s not your fault you’re ill, Lewis,” she said.

“I never should have said those things to you outside the chapel.”

Gwen frowned, trying to follow his train of thought. “Outside the chapel?” As soon as she said the words, the shock and distress she’d experienced after their last interaction came flooding back. Lewis’s meeting with Thomas after their Sunday service had sparked something in Lewis she’d never seen before.

“Thomas is a good man,” she said quietly. “He’s nothing like the navvies we dealt with before.”

“Rowland told me as much,” he said, his voice weakening. “But I didn’t want to hear it. I was completely out of line, and it’s haunted me ever since. Please forgive me.” He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Gwen thought that perhaps he’d gone back to sleep, but in the fleeting seconds before exhaustion overtook him, he spoke again, this time so softly she had to strain to catch the words. “It was just that I’d waited so long.” He paused. “And then before I knew what had happened, I’d waited too long.”

“He’s been in love with you for ages, you know,” came a subdued voice.

Gwen swung around. “Rowland,” she said, “don’t—”

“Come in,” he said. “Yeah, I know.” He stood at the doorway. “How is he?”

“I think his temperature’s gone down a bit,” she said, rising to her feet.

“That’s good,” he said. He tucked his hands into his pockets, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “He’ll probably kill me for telling you that, but I think he’s daft for keeping it to himself for so long.”

“That he . . . he . . .”

“Loves you.” Rowland finished her sentence again.

Gwen’s heart felt as though it was going to pound out of her chest. “Why would you say such a thing?” she asked. “He’s only seen me two or three times in the last year, he never wrote to me, and he was with Mabel the whole time I was away.”

Rowland rolled his eyes. “The only good thing about Lewis moving to Pen-y-Bont Fawr was that Mabel stopped coming by the smithy every single day. Dad was surely going to go mad with her always interrupting us in the middle of our work. Like a puppy, she was, following Lewis around and yapping nonstop, and it didn’t seem to matter what Lewis said to discourage her; she was back again the next day.”

Gwen put a shaky hand to her cheek. Could it be true that Lewis hadn’t returned Mabel’s affection?

“But why didn’t he write to me?” she asked.

Rowland shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him that one,” he said. “I told you I think he’s daft. When it comes to you, he can’t think straight.”

“Rowland!” Mair’s voice came from the kitchen. “You’re not getting too close to the front room, are you?”

“No, Mam,” Rowland called.

“Come and eat your dinner, then, so you can get back to the smithy and let your dad come for his.”

“I’d better go,” Rowland said. He looked past her into the room, where Lewis lay asleep on the sofa. “Take good care of him.”

Gwen nodded, not trusting herself to speak. With her thoughts and emotions in turmoil, she walked over to the fireplace, poked at the fire, and added another block of peat. Regardless of her confusion over Lewis’s words or Rowland’s claims, she could not deny that they had both lit a tiny spark of hope within her. After all this time, was it possible that Lewis’s feelings for her ran deeper than simple fondness for his best friend’s sister?

She glanced at Lewis and took a steadying breath. Even though he was rarely conscious and barely coherent, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here with him. She loved him; she knew that now. And even if his responses to her questions ended up breaking her heart, as soon as he was stronger, she would find out what she needed to know.