The Winter Garden (IMD #2)

Chapter Nine: Saviors

Chapter Nine:

 

Saviors

As they worked their way to the foyer one hesitant step at a time, James Hawthorne kept his arm tightly wrapped around the small of Immanuel’s back to keep him standing. With a fresh set of clothing and a bath, he appeared nearly normal, but they merely hid the source of his infirmity and the torture he endured. Since he arrived, he had braved the sting of antiseptic and the pull of the doctor’s needle and thread without ether or chloroform to dull the pain, but with each wound that was stitched closed, his breaths came more rapidly and a little more color drained from his cheeks. When they reached the bottom, James lowered him onto the steps to catch his breath before they joined the others. Immanuel hung his head as his lungs fought to expand against the pressure of his cracked ribs. The slightly salty yet comforting scent of chicken broth and carrots wafted from the dining room along with the soft chatter of his wife and niece.

The doctor knelt in front of him to meet his gaze. “If you are not up to it, I can bring your food here. You do not need to go to the dining room to eat.”

He shook his head of loose golden curls and covered his mouth as he began to cough again. James knew the steam from the bath would only clear his lungs for so long, but he had hoped it would have lasted through dinner. When he was finished, he drew in one more tremulous breath before climbing to his feet with the support of the newel post. Immanuel made his way into the dining room with the doctor trailing a step behind him. The table was set for two, but by the time he arrived, Emmeline was already halfway through her plate of cold chicken and bread.

As she looked up from her plate, her already large eyes widened and the chicken tumbled off her fork. Emmeline stared at the man’s swollen face in disgust, unsure of why she had to be subjected to his bloated features while she ate. His skin was unnaturally purple and distorted to the point that she wished they had left the blindfold on. His cries echoed through her mind. Couldn’t they have kept him upstairs and away from her now that she had fulfilled her promise to her mother? They were both safe now, and she wanted no part of that horrible place, including him. Feeling eyes upon her, she glanced to the side and found her aunt glaring at her. Eliza Hawthorne smiled kindly at the young man on the other side of the table as she doled out a portion of chicken broth with vegetables she had mashed up for him.

“How are you feeling?” Eliza asked as she placed the bowl in front of him along with a cup of lukewarm tea.

“Tired.”

She stood at the sideboard and watched him slowly bring spoonfuls of broth to his mouth as her husband busied himself beside her. “Well, you look much better even if you do not feel better yet.”

James leaned closer and whispered into her ear, “His name is Immanuel Winter. He is highly malnourished, has a broken nose and cheekbone, and a fever probably due to more than an infection.”

“What are you not telling me?” she replied, keeping her voice low enough that the man and Emmeline could not hear.

The doctor swallowed hard. “I do not know if he will survive the night.”

Eliza sighed and stirred the pot of soup. “I told Emmeline about Madeline.”

“And?”

“She already knew.”

Emmeline crinkled her nose as the taste and smell of her dinner was invaded by the astringent tang of alcohol and iodine from the man sitting across from her. His hand trembled as he repeatedly dipped into the bowl, causing the spoon to dance and clank against the side of the china with each mouthful. Her lip curled at the sight of him slurping and struggling to keep the liquid in his mouth between noisy spoonfuls.