Monday, 26 March, 1870

     The homestead was familiar, and I felt a pang inside at my first sight of it.  But true to Dr. Mike’s promise, there had been enough changes that I didn’t feel as strange or melancholy as I might have.  Plus it was kind of hard to be sad when I was greeted by not one, but *two* wolves as I walked through the door!  I didn’t realize how much I’d missed my old friend till I had my arms around him, rubbing his thick fur and scratching behind his ears.  He seemed to feel the same way, because he near knocked me flat the moment he saw me, jumping up to put his paws on my chest and licking me up and down.  The younger wolf seemed to know me too, crowding in to get a good whiff of me and then licking me on the hand.

     “Who’s this?” I asked Brian, regarding the young one with interest.

     “He’s mine,” Brian said proudly.  “Wolf is his pa.  You gave him to me as a Christmas present two years ago when he was just a pup.  So that’s what I called him.”

     I smiled, rubbing the young one’s muzzle.  “Hey, Pup,” I said.  “You’re a handsome fella—a real credit to your pa.”  Brian and I played with the animals a few more minutes, and then Dr. Mike suggested that Brian and Matthew take them out to the barn and feed them before we sat down to eat.

     While Dr. Mike and Colleen got supper on the table, I wandered around the room, looking at the pictures on the walls and the knick-knacks scattered about, and trailing my hand over the dark, solid furniture—most of which I’d built myself.  I had a painful moment when I caught sight of the rocker by the fireplace.  I’d made that for Abagail when she was big with child—wanting to give her a special chair all her own where she could sit and nurse our baby, or just rock her to sleep.  Though it hurt to look at it now, I was glad that it had gotten some use after all.

     It wasn’t long, though, before the mouth-watering aroma of fried chicken and home-made biscuits drew me to the table.  It turned out to be even better than I’d imagined, and I had at least two helpings of everything.  After biting into my third biscuit, relishing the way it melted in my mouth,  I said, “You sure are a good cook, Dr. Mike.  That’s one hidden talent of yours you didn’t tell me about.”

     Dr. Mike and Colleen eyed each other, Matthew tried to smother a grin, and Brian giggled outright.

     “Did I say something funny?” I asked, not taking offense,  but curious at their reaction.  Dr. Mike gave me a slightly embarrassed smile, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

     “The children are simply amused at your praise of my cooking skills,” she explained wryly.  “I’m afraid my so-called ‘talent’ is so deeply hidden, that it’s nearly non-existent.

     “No, the credit for this meal—and most of our others—goes to Colleen,” she added, looking at her daughter fondly.  “She’s the cook in this family.”

     “It’s real good, Colleen,” I told her.  “Charlotte taught you well.”

    Colleen colored shyly, dropping her eyes, but a moment later she looked up at me.

     “Dr. Mike’s too modest,” she said, glancing warmly at her adopted mother.  “It’s true she didn’t know a lot when she first came here, but she’s gotten lots better.”

     “That don’t surprise me,” I said, replying to Colleen, but feeling my eyes drawn to Dr. Mike.  “I’m sure your ma can do anything she puts her mind to.”

     “She sure can,” Brian chimed in.  “Ma’s the smartest, prettiest lady in town!”

     “Brian—“ said Dr. Mike, blushing.

     “It’s true, Ma,” Colleen echoed.  “You’re a great doctor, you’re on the town council . . . Ma even ran against Mr. Slicker for mayor once,” she told me.

     “That a fact?” I said.

     “It’s true,” confirmed Matthew.  “I gotta admit, I was against it at first—thought it was a man’s job.  But Dr. Mike proved me wrong.”

     “You won?” I said to Dr. Mike in surprise.

     “No, I lost,” she replied, still blushing a little.  “But as a result of my candidacy, and a rather clever plan of yours, we managed to secure the vote for the women of the town.”

     “Sounds like an interesting story,” I commented.  “Tell me more.”

     We lingered around the table as the four of them related the tale of Dr. Mike’s famous political campaign, and my small but significant part in it.  Frequently they interrupted each other in their eagerness to tell me of some funny or memorable incident; and there was a lot of joking and laughter.

     I felt good—best I’d felt since I woke up, in fact.  And the feeling appeared to be contagious.  Everyone seemed relaxed and happy.  The kids didn’t seem nearly so nervous this time—I got no sense that they felt like they had to “walk on egg shells” around me.  I suppose Dr. Mike had told them how she’d started filling in the blanks for me concerning the time I’d lost, so they weren’t so afraid of saying the wrong thing.  Whatever the reason for the change in them, I was glad.  I think they were too.

     Colleen finally got up to begin clearing the dishes, but Dr. Mike stopped her.  “You cooked a wonderful meal,” she said.  “Now I want you to run off and have some fun.  I’ll clean up.”

     “And I’ll help,” I added.  “Least I can do to thank you for the great food and kind hospitality.”

     “Thanks, Ma,” Colleen exclaimed, impulsively hugging Dr. Mike.  “You too, Sully,” she added to me.  She paused a moment, giving the two of us a kind of knowing look, then glanced over at Matthew   with a mischievous little smile on her lips.  He returned the look with a similar expression of his own.

    “I guess I’ll go over to Becky’s,” she announced a moment later.  “I’ll be home before dark,” she promised.

    “Have a good time!” Dr. Mike said cheerfully, looking up from the table where she was stacking the dirty plates.  Colleen snatched a shawl from a hook on the wall, and went out the door.

    Matthew cleared his throat.  “Wood box could stand to be filled,” he said casually.  “Think I’ll head outside and take care of that.

    “Brian,” he added, staring hard at his little brother.  “How ‘bout comin’ with me and givin’ me a hand?”

    Brian looked up from where he sat on the floor by the fireplace, playing with the cars of a carved wooden train.  “You never let me chop wood before,” he protested innocently.

    Matthew shot an awkward glance at me, then turned back to his brother.  “So—come out and watch,” he said.  “When I’m done, maybe we can head down to the creek and do a little fishin’.”

    “Sure!” said Brian, jumping up from the floor, his train forgotten.  “See ya later, Ma, Sully,” he added.

    “Later,” Matthew echoed.

    “Be careful,” Dr. Mike cautioned, giving Brian a quick kiss.  “Matthew, be sure to watch out for him.”

    “You know I will,” Matthew assured her.  He put on his hat and pushed Brian gently out the door ahead of him.

    Just that quick, the two of us were alone.

    “What was that all about?” I said to Dr. Mike, helping her carry the dishes to the sink.

    “I really don’t know,” she said lightly.  “I suppose they thought we’d like some private time to talk.”  But I noticed she didn’t look me in the eyes as she spoke.

    In truth, I had an idea what the kids had been up to, though I didn’t know why they thought they should treat Dr. Mike and me like we were a couple.  Maybe they had been hoping Dr. Mike would find somebody to keep company with, and they figured I might be a good choice.  Fact is, now that I thought about it, I realized she had never mentioned anything to me about having a man in her life.  It seemed hard to believe, beautiful as she was, that men weren’t beating down her door.  But maybe she figured her life was full enough with three children and a medical practice, and she didn’t need anything—or
anyone—else.  Somehow, the idea of that caused another little pang inside me, though I didn’t understand why.  Or maybe I did—but I didn’t want to pursue the thought.  It appeared like Dr. Mike didn’t want to either, from the way she kept her face carefully averted from me as she filled a wash basin with warm water from the kettle on the stove.

     “You wash, I’ll dry,” I offered, and she did glance at me then, seeming to relax a little.

     We busied ourselves with the task at hand, making short work of the dishes.  I helped her put them away, then she wiped down the surface of the table with a damp rag, hanging it over the pump to dry.  Cleaning chores done, she looked a little uncertain, like she wasn’t sure what to do next, but then she favored me with a smile.

     “Would you like some coffee?” she offered.  “I can brew a fresh pot.”

     “Sounds good,” I replied politely.  She busied herself with the preparations as I strolled around the room once again, looking at all the homey little touches she’d added to brighten up the place.  I stopped before a shelf on the wall that held a small collection of books.  It was an interesting assortment:  Goethe rubbed shoulders with Walt Whitman’s LEAVES OF GRASS.  There was also a collection of essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

     I took down the copy of Whitman, paging idly through it.

     “You enjoy poetry?” I asked.

     She looked at the title of the book I held, then quickly glanced away, her blush returning.  “Yes, I do,” she replied after a moment.  “Though I don’t get very much time to read, what with my practice and the children.”

     “I got to say, I’m kind of surprised to see this particular poet,” I remarked.  “A lot of folks think he’s got a reputation for being a little, uh, ‘frank.’”

     “You disapprove?” she asked.

     “No, not at all,” I replied.  “I admire Whitman.  And I admire you for appreciating what he’s got to say.”

     “Well actually, those books were my father’s,” Dr. Mike explained, bringing the coffeepot to the table and filling two Wedgewood cups.  “A few months ago my mother sent them to me, as well as the rest of his extensive collection.  She knew how much I’d treasured them growing up, and thought I’d like to have them.”

     “Where are the rest?” I asked.

     “I used them to open the town’s first library,” she told me as we sat down.

     “That was a generous thing to do,” I commented.

     “One would have thought so—but I’m afraid there was quite a bit of trouble in the beginning, when certain townspeople objected to the contents of some of the books and decided to exercise their own version of censorship,” she said.

     “Such as?”

     “They began by closing down the library,” she sighed.  “Then they engaged in some nocturnal incidents of confiscation—by going from door to door and demanding the return of all the books they found objectionable.”

     “Folks never stop being afraid of anything that’s different,” I said, resentful but unsurprised at the townspeople’s rigid and narrow-minded attitudes.

     “I finally determined to take back the books, and lend them out myself to those who wanted them,” Dr. Mike continued.  “However this angered my—opponents—so much, that they decided the only way to ‘stamp out’ this threat, was to burn all the books in my father’s collection.”

     “You’re jokin’,” I said, shocked.

     “I’m afraid not,” she answered.  “Fortunately we were able to put out the fire before all the books were destroyed, but most of the volumes were badly damaged—many beyond repair.”

     “That must have hurt you real bad,” I ventured sympathetically.

     “Yes,” she admitted.  “It felt as if a piece of my father had been torn from me.  However, at least one good thing came out of it.  When they realized that one of the ‘dangerous’ books they’d burned was a copy of the Holy Bible—they finally came to their senses.  They reopened the library, and from that time onward, they no longer attempted to dictate what books were, or were not, acceptable.”

     “I’m glad for your sake that things turned out all right in the end—but I’m sorry for your loss,” I told her.
 “Thank-you,” she said to me sincerely.

     My fingers caressed the leather binding covering the copy of Whitman.  “So have you actually read this?”  I asked curiously.  “I mean—being it was your father’s, and considering its reputation—I thought maybe you just kept it for sentimental reasons.”

     Her blush deepened, but she met my eyes.  “Well, I’m ashamed to confess that at first, I felt much the same as the more—conservative—members of the town did . . . about that *particular* book anyway,” she admitted.  “That must sound hard to believe, in view of what I just told you, doesn’t it?  All I can say in my defense is that in some ways, I’m still very much a product of my strict upbringing.  But fortunately, a—a friend—helped me to see the beauty in Whitman’s words, and taught me that I needn’t be embarrassed or afraid to read them.”

     “Sounds like a good friend,” I commented, returning her glance.

     “Yes—a very good friend,” she said softly.

     That same sensation of energy flowing back and forth between us, came over me again.  It was so powerful, I could almost see a flash of sparks—as if I was the steel and she was the flint—and together we created a combustible combination.

     My eyes dropped to the cover of the book, as I tried to slow the rapid beating of my heart.  Finally, though, I looked back up at her.  “Would you like to hear me read something from this?” I asked a little shyly.

     She met my eyes again.  “I’d like that,” she said.

* * * * * * * * * *
 

CHAPTER TWELVE

     Michaela scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and drew herself up to her full height of five feet, two inches.  She did not have the luxury of time to indulge in worry and weeping.  She had only one job now—to remain clear-eyed and focused on the goal of giving Sully the treatment he desperately needed to survive.  Besides, she had promised Brian that she would fight for Sully, and she had never broken her word to her children.  She would do everything in her power to keep this most important of promises—if it took every last breath in her body.

     As the others observed the air of determination that had come over Michaela, her petite figure seemed to grow taller.  Even Colleen, with her specialized knowledge of Sully’s critical condition, felt herself growing more confident about his chances as she watched her mother assume the familiar and reassuring mantle of doctor.

     “What can we do, Dr. Mike?” asked Matthew.

     “The first order of business is to reduce Sully’s fever,” Michaela responded.  “Right now, it’s as if there’s a furnace burning within his body, consuming him from the inside out.  We have to cool him down,” she stressed.

    “I’ll start by administering the quinine,” she continued.  “With luck, the medication—coupled with cool sponge baths—will reduce his temperature.  If that doesn’t work, we’ll resort to using ice.  This snowfall may actually prove to be a blessing if we need to go to those extreme measures,” she added.

     “But don’t you need to stitch his head wound first?” Colleen asked.

     “Stitching the wound is vital, of course,” Michaela agreed.  “But I would rather not give Sully chloroform or attempt any surgery while his fever remains so high.  His chances of withstanding even a minor procedure will be much better if we can lower his fever.”

     “What about the pneumonia?” her daughter inquired further.

     A shadow crossed Michaela’s face.  “That will be more of a challenge,” she conceded.  “If necessary, I can drain the fluid from his lungs.  Apart from that, however,  there’s not much we can do except to treat the fever and keep a kettle of boiling hot water continuously by his bed.  The steam will humidify the air and aid in reducing his congestion.”

     “I’ll heat the water,” Colleen offered.

     “Thank you, Colleen,” Michaela said gratefully, as her daughter moved quickly to the stove.  She turned to her son.  “Matthew, I’ll need you to go to the clinic and bring me additional supplies.  I have a limited supply of quinine in my bag, but I’m afraid there won’t be enough to see Sully through this.”

     “Sure—just tell me everything you need,” Matthew said.

     “I’ll make a list,” Michaela told him.

     “What can I do?” Cloud Dancing asked quietly.

     “You’ve already done more than I could ever ask,” Michaela told him.  “You kept Sully alive and brought him home to me.”

     “Still, I want to help,” he told her.

     “You once told me that prayers can heal,” Michaela recalled.  “Sully can use all your prayers now.”

     The medicine man nodded.  “I will call on the spirits to help you both,” he said.

     The two of them looked across the room to where Brian faithfully continued to sponge Sully’s feverish skin.

     “The spirits may be all that can truly help him now,” Michaela said with a catch in her voice, momentarily surrendering to her fear.

     “The spirits will help, but *you* are the one who will make him well,” Cloud Dancing said.

* * * * * * * * * *

     “There,” Michaela said, as she suctioned the last of the fluid from Sully’s lungs.  She expelled the contents of the syringe into an adjacent pan, then put her stethoscope to her ears and listened to his chest once more.  “He’s breathing easier now,” she added after a moment, laying the instrument aside.  She took her watch from the pocket of her apron and studied it as she grasped his wrist.  Finally, she gently lifted the bandage she had recently applied and examined her sutures, then checked the pupils of his eyes.

     “How’s he doin’, Ma?” Colleen asked, staring solicitously down at Sully from where she stood by her mother’s shoulder.

     “Marginally better,” Michaela replied.  “He doesn’t seem to have suffered any adverse effects from my putting in the stitches.  The pupils of his eyes appear normal, and there’s still no sign of any cranial swelling or compression.  His pulse is stronger, and—for the moment at least—his lungs are clear.”

     “What about the fever?” Colleen said.

     “It’s one hundred and two, the same as when I began the procedure,” Michaela answered.

     “That’s good,” Colleen commented.  “It’s down nearly two degrees since Cloud Dancin’ brought Sully home, and it didn’t go up after you stitched the wound—the quinine must be workin’.”

     “It seems to be,” Michaela acknowledged cautiously, afraid of getting her hopes up too soon.  “However, his temperature is still more elevated than I’d like.  I wish I could have further reduced his fever before subjecting him to a surgical procedure, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. ”  She hovered over Sully broodingly, gently stroking the hair from his hot, dry brow.

     “You did what you had to do, Ma.  And Sully came through it fine.  He’ll get better, the longer he’s on the quinine.  It’s only been a few hours,” Colleen told her encouragingly.

     “You’re right, I’m sure,” Michaela responded, trying to convince herself as much as her daughter.  She stretched, then scrubbed her face with her hands, her features pale and drawn and her eyes dark with fatigue.  Then, noting the time as she slipped her watch back into her pocket she added, “He’s due for another dose, and he needs to be sponged down again.”  She reached for the bottle of quinine on the nightstand, but Colleen put her hand on her mother’s arm.

    “I’ll do it,” she offered.  “You’re exhausted, Ma—you need to lay down and rest for a while.”

    “I am tired,” Michaela admitted.  “But I don’t think I can sleep, Colleen.  I feel as if I need to stay by Sully’s bedside, in case there’s any change . . .”  Her eyes pored over his features, hungry for the even the slightest indication of improvement.

    “You know I’ll wake you if anythin’ happens,” Her daughter assured her.  “Look,” she added, moving to the rocker by the fireplace and sliding it over close by the bed.  “You can sit and nap right here.  Then you’ll be near Sully and you can still get some rest.”

    Michaela gave her a small but grateful smile.  “That’s a good idea—thank you Colleen.”  But a moment later her eyes had strayed back to where Sully lay white and still, his features almost marble-like in repose.

    “He’s been unconscious for so long,” she murmured.  “I had thought he would start to come around by now.”

     said yourself his body has been through a trauma,” Colleen reminded her.  “Maybe this is his body’s way of helpin’ him build up his strength, to fight off the infection.”

    Michaela regarded Colleen with approval and admiration.  “The pupil instructs the teacher,” she said.  Colleen blushed, but looked pleased.

    “I’m only tellin’ you what you’d tell me, if I was in your place—if it were the man I loved that was sick,” she said.

    “You’re right again, Colleen,” Michaela acknowledged, impressed by her daughter’s perceptiveness.  “I’m afraid my personal feelings are affecting me.  I have to try harder to remain detached.  I can’t let my emotions distract me or affect my judgement.”

    “You’re only human, Ma,” Colleen said gently.  “You can’t help loving Sully, or bein’ scared for him.”

    "But right now, he needs my strength and my professional expertise, more than he needs my affection," Michaela replied.  Her eyes went to Sully’s face again.

    “He needs your skill, *and* your love,” Cloud Dancing said softly, coming up behind her.  “It is your love for each other that kept him alive long enough for you to help him.”

    Michaela nodded, feeling humbled by the medicine man’s wisdom—as well as her daughter’s.

    “I’m very grateful to have both you and Colleen here, to help me see clearly,” she told him.  She slipped one arm around Colleen’s waist, and stretched out her other hand to grasp Cloud Dancing’s.  “I’m grateful for all my loved ones being with me,” she said sincerely.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  As she spoke she looked over to where Brian lay with Pup on the rug before the fireplace.  The boy was asleep, one arm flung across his pet.  Pup slept as well, his head pillowed on his paws.  The young wolf’s sire, however, lay firmly planted at the foot of Sully’s bed.  He had moved to the spot as soon as Sully had been brought in, and hadn’t moved since.  Michaela marveled at Wolf’s instincts and devotion.

    “We need you too, Ma,” Colleen said to her mother.  “That’s why you’ve got to rest for a while, and let us help you.”

    “Colleen is right,” Cloud Dancing agreed.  “You must renew your strength, for your sake and for Sully’s.”

    “You’re both right,” Michaela conceded.  “Doctors who let themselves become exhausted run the risk of making mistakes.  I can’t let that happen.  Not with Sully relying on me.  And he could be facing a long siege.  I need to be clear-headed in order to make the best, most informed decisions regarding his care.”

    “I could never imagine you makin’ a mistake, Ma—especially where Sully’s concerned,” said Colleen.  “But we don’t want to see you runnin’ yourself ragged, and maybe fallin’ sick yourself.  Please take advantage of us bein’ here.  We’ll help you with anythin’ Sully needs—all you got to do is ask.”

    “You flatter me, Colleen—but I can assure you that I’m far from perfect.  I’m just as fallible as anyone else.  However, your good sense has convinced me.  Perhaps now *would*  a good time for me to take a brief rest,” Michaela agreed.

    “You’ll administer the quinine, and bathe Sully?” she added.

    “Consider it done,” Colleen told her.  “And I want *you* to sit here in this chair, put your head back and close your eyes.  Most of all, try not to worry.”

    “The part about not worrying will be difficult,” Michaela admitted, “but I can certainly obey your other instructions.  You’re going to be a fine and sensitive doctor, Colleen,” she added.

    “I’m learnin’ from the best,” Colleen told her mother.

    Michaela settled herself in the rocking chair, as Colleen solicitously covered her with the afghan.  “Sleep well, Ma,” she said softly.

    “We will watch over Sully,” Cloud Dancing assured her.

    Michaela nodded, finally allowing her tired eyes to close.  Cloud Dancing quietly moved to the nightstand.  He dipped a cloth in the water basin and gently began sponging his brother’s neck and chest, as Colleen poured a dose of the quinine and spooned it between Sully’s fever parched lips.  Then she dampened a second cloth and began helping Cloud Dancing in the task of cooling Sully’s hot skin.

    The side door opened suddenly, banging against the wall as it was buffeted by a stiff gust of wind.  Matthew entered, amidst a swirl of snowflakes.  The noise of his entrance startled Colleen and Cloud Dancing, and caused Michaela and Brian, as well as the two wolves, to jerk awake.

    “Sorry!” Matthew apologized, forcing the door closed behind him.  “Didn’t mean to scare you all.  Wind’s so strong the door got away from me.”  He set down the box of supplies he’d been carrying and took off his hat, beating it against his side to shake off the snow.  He stamped more snow free from his boots, then took them off by the entryway so as not to make wet tracks through the cabin.

    “It’s all right, Matthew,” Michaela told him, rubbing her burning eyes.  “Did you bring all the items I wrote down?”

    “Everythin’ on the list,” her son answered.  He shrugged off his coat and hung it on a nail, then brought the box to the table as Michaela rose from her chair and came over to check the contents.

    “Ma, you should sleep—I can do this,” Colleen said.

    “Thank you, Colleen, but I need to go through it all myself, to ensure that everything is correct—with all respect to you, Matthew,” she added.
 

    “It’s all right.  I understand, Dr. Mike,” he said.

    “How was travelin’?” Colleen asked her brother.  “Is the snow gettin’ worse?”

    “Fact is, it wasn’t too bad,” Matthew responded, going to the stove and pouring himself a cup of coffee.  “There ain’t as much on the ground as we thought, and it looks like it might be startin’ to let up.”

    “That’s a relief,” Michaela commented, studying the label of a bottle she held in her hand.  She glanced up at Matthew.  “Are people in town weathering the storm all right?” she added.

    “Seem to be,” Matthew answered.  “The café’s closed, and the school—“  Brian’s face broke into a big smile at this news—“but Loren’s store is open and Dorothy’s puttin’ out the Gazette.  And there’s the saloon, of course,” he added with a little grin.

    “Of course,” Michaela echoed wryly.

    “I ran into the Widow Farnsworth when I was fixin’ to come home,” Matthew went on.  “She wanted to know if you’ll be back in the clinic tomorrow.  Said she had an appointment for you to treat her neuralgia.”

    “Oh dear, that’s right,” Michaela exclaimed, distressed.  “And Horace’s gout is acting up again—he asked me a few days ago if I could take a look at it.  I’m sure there will be other patients as well who’ll be needing my services.  I’m afraid I’ve been so preoccupied with Sully that I didn’t think about anyone else.”

    “That’s understandable, Dr. Mike,” Matthew remarked reasonably.  “Sully’s gotta be your first priority now.  ‘Sides, it didn’t appear to me like there were any emergencies.  I’m sure everyone will understand and be willin’ to wait a few days till Sully’s doin’ better.”

    “*If* he’s doing better,” Michaela qualified.  “And I’m sure you’re right about my other patients.  Nonetheless, I’m this town’s only doctor, and I owe it to the people who rely on me to be available if I’m needed.”

    “Seems like there’s a simple solution to that,” Matthew responded.  “We’ll just move Sully to the clinic.  Then you’ll be able to tend to him and still see anybody else who comes in.”

    “Under ordinary circumstances, that would be the logical thing to do,” Michaela said.  “But while Sully’s fever is elevated and he’s still so weak, I feel it would be too dangerous to expose him to the elements.  I believe we need to wait at least another twenty-four hours, and give this storm time to blow over.  Hopefully by then Sully will have responded more fully to the quinine and will be able to withstand the trip to the clinic.”

    “Whatever you think is best,” Matthew said.

    “Ma, *please* go back and try to rest now,” Colleen urged.

    “Colleen’s right, Dr. Mike—get some rest,” Matthew agreed.

    Michaela took a last look at the collection of medical supplies, and then nodded.  “Very well,” she conceded.  She returned to Sully’s bedside and laid her hand gently on his forehead, gazing at him yearningly, then resumed her seat in the rocker, leaning back with a sigh.  She closed her eyes once again, and sooner than she would have imagined possible, she slept.