For Time and Eternity Read Online Free PDF

was soaked clear through, as was my blanket. Determined now, I climbed out of bed and shivered at the coolness of the wet nightclothes against my skin. My mother hummed from somewhere downstairs, but my cocked ear caught no sign of anyone else.
    “Mama?” My dry throat cracked with the weak effort, but there was no pain in speaking. I licked my lips and called again.
    The humming stopped and steady steps brought her into my room, wiping her hands on her apron.
    “My fever broke.”
    “So I see.” It occurred to me that I must not have been nearly as sick as I imagined, because there was no hint of blessed relief in her voice. I had clear snatches in waking memory of her sitting at my bedside, clutching my hand, whispering prayers. But she now seemed so removed from a woman given to vigil that I felt a little silly for having called her.
    “My, um, gown is wet?”
    “Let’s get you into another.” She went to her knees by the trunk at the foot of my bed and opened it. After some rummaging around, she came up with a fresh, if wrinkled, gown and another sheet and blanket. I changed while she stripped the bed.
    “Why don’t you go down to the kitchen,” Mama said. “Do you some good to get out of this room. Let the mattress air out.”
    “Is Papa downstairs?” I didn’t want him to see me in my gown.
    “He’s out with the cows. Takin’ them down by the meadow.”
    “Fine.” I crossed over to my bureau, but froze as a movement outside the window caught my eye. Not believing, I leaned closer, resting my head against the glass. There he was, Nathan Fox, leaning against my father’s makeshift stone wall, twirling his hat in his hands. Just then he looked up. Toward the house, but not at me. Not yet.
    “That’s a good idea,” Mama said, busy with the ticking. “Why don’t you open the window a bit. Let in some of that fresh breeze.”
    “All right.”
    He didn’t notice me until I’d slid the window up nearly halfway. And when he did, he slammed his hat on his head and took two running steps toward the house.
    “No!” It was out of my mouth before I could think. Certainly not loud enough for him to hear me clear across the yard, yet somehow he knew to stop. But he didn’t back away. He just stood there, staring. An expression on his face I couldn’t read.
    “What was that?” Mama stretched her small frame across the bed, attempting to fit the clean muslin sheet over the far corner of the mattress. I left the window and went to help her, smoothing the cool material at the opposite corner and tucking it under the foot of the ticking.
    “I—I was just surprised to see how much of the day has passed. I can’t believe I slept so late into the afternoon.”
    “It’s the best medicine.” She stood back to admire her work before unfurling a fresh, clean quilt over the sheet. “But let’s see if we can keep you up for a while. You didn’t get a chance to read your Scripture last night. How about we do that now? Your father will be so pleased to see you keep up. Even in times of illness. Scripture can be such a comfort.”
    “My head hurts, Mama.” Which it did. “I don’t think I could concentrate on reading right now.” Inching steps took me back to the window. He was gone, and it felt like I was taking the first clear breath since seeing him.
    “Oh.” She smoothed one hand over and over a corner, and I felt a new weakness, an overwhelming need of her. My head and heart had been spinning for days, and I longed to pour both out to her. I couldn’t, of course. Not everything. Nothing about Nathan Fox and our walks to school and the way he touched my face and the hope I had when I saw him standing at the wall. But she was, after all, a woman. And so, apparently, was I.
    “But maybe you could read it to me?” I offered. “We could sit together, in the parlor.”
    “Well, I don’t know ’bout that.” Mama stooped and gathered the soiled linens into one big armful. “There’s so much to