“Daddy!”
Coralee took off, mounting the stairs two at a time. She reached her father’s room and found him moaning and thrashing about. She raced to his beside, kicked aside the pieces of his broken water glass, and rested her hands on his shoulders, exerting firm but gentle pressure.
“No, Daddy!” She dragged in a breath and forced herself to remain calm even though her heart was slamming against her ribs. “It’s all right. I’m here. Everything’s fine. Lie back before you hurt yourself.”
He fought against her, batting at her arms and muttering.
She felt a hand in the middle of her back. Houston.
“What can I do to help?”
“I’m not sure.” Her mind was reeling, but she forced herself to think. “You could h–hold him while I get his medicine.”
“You’ll need to move.”
“Yes. Of course.” She stepped to the side so Houston could take her place, picked up the bottle of laudanum, and pawed through the numerous items on the bedside table.
He grabbed Daddy’s arms and held them. Daddy arched his back and twisted his torso. His groans grew louder and more insistent. Houston glanced at her over his shoulder. “What are you looking for?”
“The spoon.” She continued her search, moving every item and sloshing water out of the washbasin in her haste. She dropped a cloth on the worst of the spill. “I’ve got to find it. Where could it be?”
“Take a breath, Corrie. It’s here somewhere.”
“I wonder if he knocked it off, too.” She dropped to her hands and knees.
“Careful! The glass.”
She made contact with a shard, sending pain shooting through the fleshy area below her thumb. She stood, yanked out the sliver, and tossed it aside. Blood flowed from the small cut. She pulled the handkerchief from her sleeve, wound it around her hand as quickly as possible, using her teeth to secure one end, and tied a knot. Daddy’s cries rang out as she worked.
“Calvin has a spoon. I’ll get his.” She ran from Daddy’s room into her brother’s. Despite the commotion down the hall, he was sound asleep, no doubt due to the hefty dose of laudanum she’d had to give him after he’d twisted the wrong way earlier. If only she could get Daddy settled.
She sprinted back to her father’s room, spoon in one hand, medicine bottle in the other. Daddy continued to flail. He’d taken to kicking at his bedclothes, too. If they didn’t calm him, he was liable to hurt himself.
Taking the cork stopper of the bottle between her teeth, she pulled until it popped out. She poured the brown liquid, wrinkling her nose at the strong alcohol scent.
She slipped in beside Houston, who was holding Daddy’s arms and pressing him into the mattress. He continued to fight, jerking his head from side to side. She took his chin in one hand, doing her best to keep him from moving, and held the spoon with the other.
Her hand trembled as she moved it to his mouth, spilling the laudanum. The dark stain hit the white sheet, wicking into the cotton and spreading. “What’s wrong with me? I’ve done this hundreds of times.”
“You’re doing fine, Corrie. Just try again.”
She drew strength from Houston’s words of encouragement, took a deep breath, and refilled the spoon. Although she reached Daddy’s mouth without mishap this time, the moment she touched his lips, he clamped his mouth closed. “Please, open up. This will help you.”
“You could force his mouth open and pour it in. Some of it’s sure to get between his teeth. He’d have no choice but to swallow.”
“Yes. That might work.” She doubled the amount of laudanum on the spoon and squeezed Daddy’s cheeks, which wasn’t easy with him turning his head back and forth.
Determination drove her on. She managed to get his lips parted, and his head tilted back. He gritted his teeth, but she tipped the spoon and poured the medicine anyhow.
Daddy relaxed.
She let go of him and turned to put the spoon on the table.
Something wet struck her cheek. She wheeled around, and another spray of laudanum hit her right in the face.
Her beloved daddy was spitting … at her?
“No. Please. Stop.” She blinked to clear her vision, which had grown blurry. Her body began to shake. “I was only … tr–trying to help.”
Houston released one of her father’s arms and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She stared at her father as he continued to struggle. Houston did his best to contain Daddy’s arms with one hand.
“What am I going to do?” Her voice broke. “He needs that medicine.”