The Edge of Misery: The Mitchel Brothers Series Book Two

14

"Just started—"

"Right before I sent Eldon to get you," Declan quietly interjected, folding his arms across his chest, surprised at the formidable sense of relief that rushed through him simply from having his uncle walk in the room. "We were all dead asleep until then."

Wren groaned, swallowed, and covered her mouth with her left hand.

Emerson quickly grabbed the bowl and returned his stethoscope to his bag, "Feeling another wave hit?"

She hesitated, then slowly lowered her trembling hand to the bed and sighed, "No... it's passed."

"You still feeling dizzy?" Emerson asked, setting the bowl back on the floor with a soft thunk.

"A little."

"And the double vision? Any change?"

Wren opened her eyes to look at him and gave a cautious shake.

Emerson felt her forehead, then pressed his fingers under her chin for a moment as he watched the small clock on the nightstand, then clucked his tongue as he straightened. "Well, the good news is, you've got a strong, steady pulse—"

"So she ain't dyin'?" Eldon tearfully interrupted, snaking his hand between Declan's arm and ribs and latching onto his left fingers. And without even thinking, Declan hauled the little boy into his arms and hugged him to his right hip.

"Nope," Emerson quickly assured him with a tender, compassionate smile, his gaze lingering on Declan and Eldon before returning to Wren. "Though I'm certain there was a good stretch tonight where you felt like you were."

Her parched lips twitched with amusement.

"So her throwing up is normal?" Declan murmured, his concerned gaze focused on Wren and her ashen pallor.

"You had some of Mae's willow bark tea?" Emerson asked, snapping his medical bag closed and grabbing the handle.

"Yep," Wren whispered.

Emerson nodded, "About how many cups?"

Wren swallowed and glanced at Declan before quietly answering, "Three."

"Well," Emerson sighed with a little chuckle, "between the concussion and the tea, I'm afraid it was bound to happen eventually. As good as willow bark is at easing pain, it sure disagrees with some people's stomachs... How are your ankle and arm feeling right now? They hurting?"

A choked sob escaped Wren's throat in answer, and she covered her face with her left hand.

"And I imagine your headache has worsened too,'" Emerson murmured, patting her shoulder. "It's all right, my dear... fortunate for you, I came supplied with a remedy."

"She doesn't want any laudanum, Uncle Em," Declan said, stepping forward as Emerson set his bag back on the table and flicked it open. "She's spinning enough as it is."

"That's fine. We'll do a little morphine instead to take the edge off so you can get some rest. I'd also recommend a couple of ginger chews for your stomach if you have any left. I would have grabbed a few on my way, but I flew out of the cabin so fast I barely had time to fasten my trousers. Isn't that right, little man?"

Eldon sniffled and nodded, then rested his head against Declan's right shoulder, watching Emerson inject a dose of morphine into Wren's left arm.

"You want to go with me to get the ginger chews?" Declan quietly asked Eldon, craning his neck to look at him while Emerson returned his syringe to its case, then set it in the bag and prepared to leave.