From This Day Forward

chapter Five



A cacophony of voices reached out of the darkness as soon as the wagon rolled to a stop. Lanterns swayed crazily as men ran to and fro in a frenzy of activity. Caroline stood in the wagon, straining to see, trying to decide where the greatest need was.

Leaping from the vehicle, Jason rushed toward a group of a dozen or so men, leaving Caroline to climb down on her own. He disappeared into the darkness, swallowed by the night and the confusion.

"Help! Quickly!" someone shouted. "I have found Vincente!"

In the midst of the melee, Jason's rich baritone voice rang out. "Ines! Where are you?"

Caroline couldn't see two feet in front of her, but she followed the direction of Jason's voice, Ines tagging along in her wake as she shouldered her way through the crowd until she stood in the middle of the circle. Jason knelt on the ground beside Vincente, whose pallid face appeared ghostly in the darkness. The boy was in shock, that was the first thing she noticed. Her gaze went to his left arm where a tight tourniquet had been tied. Blood and mud covered the bandage and his arm.

"Have you been loosening the tourniquet?" Caroline asked the crowd at large. She fell to her knees beside the prone body, unmindful of the soft mud that soaked immediately through the thin material of her gown. "How long has it been on there?"

Jason looked up at her in annoyance. "Ines has been tending my workers for years, madam, and she can—"

"Ines is near to fainting, in case you hadn't noticed." She took hold of the boy's arm. His skin was clammy and cold beneath the mud. The circulation to his lower arm had been shut off too long.

"You can't just cut off the blood flow!" she shouted at the men who stood around her in dumbfounded silence. "He'll lose his arm."

"Julio!" Caroline called to the young groom. All her energies were concentrated on the patient, but she couldn't help sensing the incredulity in Jason's silent gaze. "Julio!"

"Sim, Senhora!" The young man stepped forward. Ines peered around him, her dark face sallow with shock.

"Julio, go to the river and draw me a bucket of water. A full bucket," Caroline ordered.

"Sim, Senhora!" he cried, rushing off to do as she bid.

Caroline began unfurling the tourniquet. The release of pressure would cause the wound to bleed again, but she had to get that thing off and do it right. She glanced impatiently at Jason, who watched her in rapt silence.

"Jason, I think they need you down by the river!" she pointed out, then searched the crowd for Ines. "Ines, come here! I need your help."

"Sim, Senhora!" Ines replied, standing over Caroline, gazing down at the bloody mess with round, horrified eyes.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Jason asked harshly.

"Go, Jason. I've done this sort of thing before!" Without thinking, Caroline pulled up her skirt and tore off a length of petticoat. She shoved it toward Ines, who didn't respond.

Jason stood and rushed off in the direction of the river, and Caroline breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be difficult enough without Jason questioning her every move.

"Ines, take this fabric," Caroline ordered. When the other woman didn't comply, she called more sharply, "Ines!"

"Sim, Senhora," came the reply.

"Ines, I need your help. Can you do as I say without fainting?"

Swallowing hard, Ines nodded her head. "I will try, Senhora."

"Good," Caroline said more gently, compassion for Ines momentarily outweighing the gravity of the situation. Then she gazed down at the pale young man and the urgency returned. "When I release the tourniquet, the wound is going to start bleeding again. When I tell you, press the fabric to the wound. Can you do that?"

"Sim, Senhora," Ines replied, her voice quivering slightly.

Julio returned with the water Caroline had requested, and she used it to wash away the mud from around the wound.

"Are you ready Ines?"

"Sim, Senhora."

"Now." Caroline removed the tourniquet, and Ines replaced it with the wad of fabric as Caroline had instructed, pressing with all her strength to staunch the alarming flow of blood.

Satisfied that Ines wouldn't faint or become ill, Caroline opened her father's medical bag, digging inside until she found a large bottle of alcohol. "When I say now, move your hand and the bandage away from the wound. Julio, be ready. As soon as Ines lets go of the wound, grab him by the shoulders. If he's not too far out of it, he may try to fight against the burning."

"Sim, Senhora."

"Now!"

Ines released the wound and blood flowed freely, mixing with the mud and grime that covered Caroline and the boy. Revulsion and compassion rose inside her in equal parts. He was just a boy—hurt, frightened. She spoke to him soothingly, not knowing if he could understand her words but hoping that her tone might comfort him.

"Press the bandage to the cut again," Caroline said as soon as the boy relaxed. So much blood, blood everywhere. She struggled to ignore it, to retain her professional poise, but the bile rose in her throat.

She doused the laceration with alcohol and

Vincente screamed, tried to rise, but Julio pinned him to the ground.

"I've got to close the wound. A bandage won't do it. It's too deep." She reached for the black bag and dragged it to her, rummaging around inside until she found a bottle of ether. She held the ether and another strip of petticoat toward Ines.

"I'm going to take some stitches, and when I start, I want you to pour this into the material and hold it over his nose and mouth. Be careful not to inhale it yourself."

The sound of high-pitched wailing followed Jason as he stumbled away from the river. He tried to close his mind against the pain, but all he could see was the face of Rosita, Ernesto's mother, as she'd thrown herself over her son's body. Damn, he should have been able to prevent this! If only he'd gotten here sooner. He'd known how precarious the earth around the dam was after heavy rains. He should have forbidden them to fish here until the reinforcements could be finished. He should have....

As he approached the place where he'd left Caroline earlier, Ignacio, his foreman, helped a weak Vincente to his feet. The boy leaned heavily against his father, obviously still dizzy from the loss of blood. But at least he was alive.

"Obrigado, Senhora, obrigado!" Ignacio said, his voice raw with emotion. "Thank you for my son's life."

Ignacio's gaze met Jason's as he turned away, and Jason's throat constricted at the tears in his old friend's eyes. "Obrigado," he murmured.

Affection between a father and son was something Jason could hardly imagine, yet here it was before him. It touched a deep yearning inside him, a hunger he tried with all his will to deny. His own father had hated him. His own father wouldn't have cared if he'd drowned in the river or been eaten by alligators, except that he wouldn't have had the money Jason had earned sweating all day in a sugar factory.

Jason watched until Ignacio and Vincente disappeared into the darkness. On the ground at his feet, Caroline gathered medical instruments, cleaning them as best she could on the soiled material of her ruined gown before returning them to the black medical bag. Wiping her brow with her forearm, she released a great sigh.

How Caroline could be so vulnerable and so strong at the same time was the essence of her mystery. It confounded him, threatened his reality. Women were weak and demanding, but the only thing Caroline had ever demanded was his attention, his company. She'd wanted them to be friends before they became lovers. Was that what courting was about?

Nearly laughing aloud at the absurdity of his thoughts in light of the fact that his wife was up to her neck in mud, Jason asked, "Can I help?"

She gazed up at him, her hazel-green eyes heavy with pain and fatigue. His heart skipped a beat and he wondered for a moment if she'd injured herself in all the confusion. But the pain came from deep inside her, he realized. It was as if she'd taken Vincente's suffering into herself. That depth of compassion couldn't be good for her. If she carried the wounds of all her patients inside her heart, soon she would have nothing left for herself. Was that why she hadn't finished medical school?

Mud and blood covered her white gown, but she didn't seem to notice as she struggled to stand. Jason took her by the arm and helped her to her feet.

"I've never seen anything like that before," he told her sincerely. He'd never seen anyone work so tirelessly, so selflessly for a stranger. "I mean, I've seen doctors work to save lives before, but never—"

"Never a woman?"

Too tired and confused to argue, Jason ignored the question, taking the medical bag from her hand and supporting her as they walked toward the wagon. "You must be tired. Let's go back to the house. There's nothing else we can do here."

Caroline stopped, her gaze searching his blue eyes in the darkness. "The other one—Ernesto...."

Jason shook his head, the guilt and impotent anger rising in his chest. "I was too late."

Caroline jerked her arm from his hold. "I suppose you'll blame me for that."

"Dear God, no!" His heart twisted at her words. Was he such a brute? "How could you think I'd blame you when it was all my fault?"

"If you hadn't waited for me...."

He took her by the arm again, forcing her to look at him, determined to make her understand. "If I hadn't waited for you, Vincente would be dead now, too."

"Maybe," she conceded, pulling away again, her face a mask of bitter hurt that he couldn't for the life of him comprehend. "Maybe Ines could have saved him."

What had he done? What had he said to anger her when he was trying to tell her how much he admired her?

As they reached the wagon, Jason grabbed her by the arm again. Intent on making her understand, he turned her so that he could look into her eyes. "Why can't you just accept my thanks?"

Caroline slumped wearily. "What do you want from me, Jason?"

He released her and backed away to find her weary gaze still fixed on his face. What he wanted was to hold her, to find solace and forgiveness in her arms, to ease her weariness and tell her he admired her courage and her strength. He wanted to comfort her, wanted her to comfort him. But if she knew how he felt, she would use it against him.

He couldn't risk it. She couldn't stay here, so near, so accessible. He could never live close to her day after day and not reveal his heart. And as soon as he showed the slightest weakness, she would destroy him.

"Nothing," he murmured, and whether or not she was satisfied with his answer, she turned toward the wagon and waited for him to help her up. The distance that widened between them saddened him. He climbed in beside her, shook out the reins, and the horses bounded forward.

"What about Ernesto? Will there be a funeral?" Caroline asked tiredly.

Jason's body went rigid as her words plummeted him back in time. He fought to keep the memories at bay.

Shaking his head to clear it, Jason replied, "His family will take care of it. They'll bury him in the cemetery and when the priest comes next month, he'll conduct a ceremony."

"Shouldn't someone say something—a eulogy."

"They'll take care of it, Caroline." He knew what she expected. It was only natural. He was the patrao. Ernesto and his father had both been his employees. It was only right that he should be present at the funeral.

They didn't speak again as they rode toward the house, a silence that stretched so long that Jason thought Caroline might have fallen asleep until she spoke, her voice a mere whisper in the night.

"Shouldn't you be there?"

"What?" he asked, pretending he didn't know what she meant. How could he explain without revealing things he'd rather leave unexplored?

"The funeral for Ernesto." He could hear the impatience in her voice, the accusation. "They look up to you."

Jason felt his heart tighten. How could he explain? He must appear heartless and unfeeling to her, and even while he told himself he didn't care what she thought of him, he knew with a sickening certainty that he did care. No matter how much he tried to distance himself, he couldn't help caring about Caroline, any more than he could stop himself from taking on responsibility for the well-being of his people. Their loss was his loss.

God knew he didn't want to care. He didn't want to care about anyone or anything. Caring left you open to hurt. He'd cared about his mother, and look what that had gotten him. He'd cared about Peggy, and he still carried the pain of her death inside his heart.

"Caroline, I'm not good at funerals." He waited for a response, but none came. Either she was asleep or she couldn't think of a reply to such a selfish statement. Either way, he was glad for the silence.

#####

They arrived at the house as the sky began to brighten with the sunrise. Caroline climbed down from the wagon almost before it stopped, dashing his hope that she had fallen asleep.

"Ines!" she called. "Have a hot bath brought to my room please, and then get some rest yourself."

"Sim, Senhora," Ines replied, moving past Jason with a disapproving glare. He didn't know if she meant to speak, but he quelled her with a scowl. The last thing he needed was to be scolded by Ines.

Jason fetched the medical bag from the wagon and hurried to Caroline's side. Taking her arm, he walked with her toward the courtyard. "Your gown is ruined," he said inanely, kicking himself mentally because he could think of nothing else to say.

"Good night, Jason," she said as they reached the arched entranceway. "I'm very tired."

Caroline pulled her arm from his grip. Taking her father's medical bag from him, she walked toward the spiral staircase that would take her upstairs to her room.

"Caroline!" He called after her, unwilling to let her go, yet not knowing what to say. She turned to gaze at him, her face drawn and smeared with mud. "Why didn't you finish your schooling?" he asked.

"My father became ill. It took all his savings and mine just to eat and keep a roof over our heads. Then he died and... well, that was the end of that."

"He left money for your husband's education. He should have left it for yours."

"He did," she murmured, turning away from him and slowly mounting the stairs.

Two more workers died of the fever yesterday. I suppose they buried them today. Ignacio went for me, to give my condolences. You know I cannot abide a funeral, not after Peggy's, not after I had to lie so they'd bury her in consecrated ground and so the priest would speak over her. / knew she'd have wanted it that way.

I promised myself then and there that I would never attend another funeral. The words the priest spoke were meaningless dribble. I just wanted him to shut up. She wasn't there; she wasn't in that sad body. Her spirit was gone, I don't know where. I don't believe in the hereafter, but I hope I'm wrong. I hope there is a heaven, for Peggy's sake.

The words of the letter echoed in Caroline's mind as the last shovelful of dirt landed on the grave. Rosita, Ernesto's mother, threw herself onto the grave and wept loudly as the mourners turned away.

Ignacio had delivered a beautiful eulogy in Jason's stead, and if anyone thought it strange that the patrao was absent, Caroline had seen no sign of resentment.

How could she have forgotten? How could she have been so insensitive as to berate Jason last night? He had lived with such bitterness and pain for so long, it must be eating him up inside.

His sister Peggy haunted him still. He blamed himself for her death; he'd as much as admitted it in his letters. Not with words, but there had been as much meaning in what he hadn't said in those letters as there had been in the actual words themselves.

"Thank you for coming, Senhora."

Caroline turned to see Ignacio standing close beside her, his brown eyes bright with sincerity and unshed tears. "It meant much to the family."

"It was the least I could do," she said, her voice quivering with emotion. "I am only sorry..."

"It is not your fault. It is not his fault either," he said, gesturing at something over her head.

Caroline turned slowly. Jason stood in the distance beside his horse, the reins held lightly in his hand. Her heart froze. She could feel his pain reach out to her from across the distance.

He was too far away for her to see his eyes, but she knew his gaze had found her. His body stiffened and he turned, mounting his horse and galloping away as if all the demons of hell followed after him.

She moved to follow him, but a hand on her arm stilled her. Turning, she gazed into Ignacio's eyes.

"He will punish himself."

"But why?" she asked, her heart aching for Jason.

Ignacio shrugged. "It is his way. He takes responsibility for everything that happens on the fazenda. He does not understand that some things are beyond his control."

"So much guilt," she murmured. The weight must be crushing, even for a man of Jason's strength.

"I see you understand him better than I had guessed," Ignacio said, and Caroline turned to gaze into his wise eyes. "Jason likes to think he is invincible, that he needs no one. He is not nearly as strong as he would like the world to believe."

"Thank you," she said past the tears in her throat. "For what? It is I who should be thanking you. If not for you, there would be another funeral today."

"For understanding him."

"He will need you, not me," Ignacio told her. "He will not want to admit it. In fact, he may try and push you away. You understand."

Tears welled in Caroline's eyes and she turned away before she humiliated herself. If only she could reach him somehow. "No, I have to go."

Running for the wagon, she climbed on to the seat as the tears fell down her cheeks. Not only did he still carry the guilt of not being able to stop his sister from dying, he felt responsible for Ernesto's death as well.

She picked up the reins and froze. Where was she going? Back to her room to hide again? She knew that Jason wouldn't return to the house, not yet, but she didn't know where he would go. And even if she did, she wasn't sure she wanted to face him right now.

Slowly she turned toward home, urging the horses into a sedate walk. There was no need in hurrying. There was nothing waiting for her but a lonely, empty house.

Peggy was the only beautiful thing in my world. She almost made me believe there could be something else to life besides constant misery. But she couldn't shut out the world. She allowed everything to touch her, to affect her. Her skin wasn't thick enough for the Irish Channel. She wore her feelings out in the open so that anyone could see them and use them to hurt her. Even so, I didn't know how desperate she'd become.

Caroline lowered her hand to the bed beside her, allowing the letter to slip from her fingers. Tears rolled unchecked down her face.

"It wasn't your fault," she said aloud.

She'd read that letter dozens of times and it never failed to move her to tears. She'd written back to him exhorting him not to blame himself. As a result, it had taken several months of dry, pointed business letters before he opened up to her—to Derek—again.

Rolling over, Caroline dropped the letter into the medical bag beside the bed and extinguished the lamp. She wiped her eyes and settled comfortably once again.

He hadn't come home all day. He was out there somewhere, suffering, trying to deny that he could still be hurt. What was she going to do? If she could only pry that shell open and free the man inside, the man who had written those letters.

It wouldn't be easy, peeling back all those layers of protection, but Jason was worth it, worth saving. As she settled into a restless sleep, she wondered if she were equal to the task.