Page 16 of The Love Knot

Something pinched Claire’s chest as she turned to leave. How had she become so attached to the boy so quickly? Liam had been in her life less than twenty-four hours, yet he’d already taken up permanent residence in her heart.

Hesitating, she pressed a kiss to her fingertips, then touched them to his forehead. “Mam’ll be back soon, love,” she whispered. Then she pivoted away from the door, held her lantern aloft, and strode down the road with purpose. The faster she tended to the Clarks, the faster she could return to Liam.

When she reached the ramshackle house that served as the Clark home, what she found made her heart sink. Three children, aged four to ten, shared a bed. Each was feverish, coughing, and covered in a red rash that could mean only one thing—one of the most infectious diseases in existence, and one that could prove fatal to infants and adults who’d never developed an immunity. Adults like Claire.

Oh, Liam, me love. Mam won’t be seein’ ye as soon as she hoped.

Not when she’d just been exposed to the measles.

Chapter

8

What do you mean, she won’t see me?” Pieter glared at the matronly woman barring his path into the Harper’s Station clinic.

After his conversation with Claire yesterday, he’d believed she was going to give him a chance to win back her trust, to prove his dedication. He couldn’t believe she’d shut him out less than twelve hours later. It wasn’t her nature to be so mercurial.

“She’s quarantined herself in her room,” Maybelle Curtis explained. Circles darkened her eyes, and her hair frizzed out around her bun as if she hadn’t seen her bed in days. “Won’t let me in, just shoved this letter under the door and out into the hall where I could find it.”

The midwife pulled two folded pages from her apron pocket and handed them to him. Pieter scanned the familiar handwriting, his heart aching and then pounding in concern. Claire had been exposed to the measles and was taking precautions to contain the spread of the disease.

She mentioned a family called Clark, outlining the care she’d given them and instructing Maybelle to inform Emma Shaw of the danger so the town could be warned. All people not previously exposed to the measles should avoid the Clark house for at least three weeks until the fever and rash had fully dissipated.

Then his gaze caught on his own name.

Tell Pieter I can’t see him. If complications arise, I might not be able to care for Liam. The lad will need his uncle.

Pieter glanced up at the healer. “What complications?”

Mrs. Curtis sighed and took the letter back from him. “Measles is considered a childhood disease. Usually nonfatal.”

Usually. Pieter’s jaw clenched. He recalled having the measles as a boy. The fever, the rash, the itching. The disease had swept through the tenement the year before Claire’s family arrived. Hundreds of people had fallen ill. Many had died, including a little girl who lived two doors down from his family.

“Most adults are immune after having measles in childhood,” Mrs. Curtis continued, “but children under age five and adults not previously exposed run a higher risk of complications.”

“Like death.” The word nearly choked him.

“Unfortunately, yes. Lung fever can develop, or even a swelling of the brain. Claire is still young, though,” the healer hurried to reassure, “only eighteen. Usually the worst cases afflict those much older. She’s just taking precautions. In a few weeks this will be past, and all will be well.”

In a few weeks . . . Pieter frowned, his mind spinning with all that would need to be done. Claire might have quarantined herself, but there was no way he was going to leave her to fight this battle alone.

He hated to keep the weary midwife from the bed she obviously longed to find, but he needed one more thing before he could go. “Can I borrow some paper and a pen?”

Claire sat at the small writing desk in her room, penning a letter to her sister. She told Polly that Liam had arrived safely and gave her promise to care for him with all the love in her heart. She made no mention of measles, not wanting to cause undue concern. After all, there was a tiny chance she wouldn’t contract the disease.

Ten days. That was how long she had to wait, locked up in this room. If she had no fever, no ulcers in her mouth after that time, she could break the quarantine. Until then, she’d have to find a way to stay busy in this tiny room without going crazy.

At least she’d have plenty of time to finish Bertie’s bread cover. She glanced up at the dresser where she’d stuffed the bit of embroidery into the top drawer. A pang hit her chest at the thought of undoing the knots. Of cutting the threads—threads Pieter had likened to the ties that bound the two of them together.

She couldn’t snip those strings as if they meant nothing. They’d become a symbol, a talisman, almost.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty of time on her hands to start over on a new cloth. Bertie would still have her gift, and Claire would have her knots.

“Whist! Ye silly goose. Savin’ knots. Yer turnin’ into a sentimental fool, ye are.” And talking to herself, too. Goodness. The craziness had started already.

A knock on her door brought her head around. “Yes?”

“I’m headed to bed,” Maybelle announced through the door. The poor woman had been up all night with the birthing.