James Raymond Elliot

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  I wake to the sound of Nella and Marygold's voices.

I know I should open my eyes so they realize I have regained conscious, but the two sisters are in the middle of an intense discussion, and my brain doesn't process my improper manner of listening in.

"Mary, I want to stay with him," Nella's voice responds softly, it had a mix of different emotions that were hard to separate. Compassion? Pity? Loyalty? I am not sure which ones I can pick. I don't know if I want to know.

A cool hand strokes my cheek with delicate moments, fingers lightly ghost the line of my jaw. The touch of her hand makes my skin tingle.

"I love him."

Silence filled the room after this bold statement. My heart does a flip in my chest at the sound of her words.

Have I truly won Nella's heart? Was the mystery emotion in her voice love?

  "Nella, this is crazy! Leave Mama? Dylan? The farm? Me?" Marygold's voice asks in distraught. I could easily picture her pacing the wooden floor in front of the bed. The creak of the wood under her shoes confirms this suspicion.

Nella sighs, her hand moves from my jaw and I shift uncomfortably at the lack of her warmth. "I know it's crazy, Mary, but I want to be with him. I am twenty now. I am not a little girl," she responds, and I can hear the plea in her voice that asked her sister to trust her decisions.

Marygold sighs, the sound one of defeat and acceptance. "I know whatever I say won't make a difference, but what will you tell, Mother?"

Nella was quiet for a moment, probably trying to come up with a witty solution, but finally made a small defeated sound. "I don't know. The truth I suppose."

  I decide I should no longer hide my awareness of their private conversation and slowly open my eyes to see Nella sitting beside me. Marygold stands by the doorway. I also noticed a new pair of wooden crutches are propped against the far wall.

"Well, look who's up?" Nella says with a soft smile. She turns to the night stand where a wooden bowl sat, a rag beside it. She rings the cloth out, folding it and dabbing my forehead lightly.

"Your fever spiked durning the night, but I think it might be going down for good," she said with a sad smile. "Nasty little bugger wanted one last punch."

I notice the purple crescents that shadow under her eyes. Guilt washed over me. She must have been awake with me all night.

I frown, watching the way she sponges my forehead with care. "Nella, I had the weirdest dream. Ana was there. I need to... to get to her." My mouth seemed to voice things slower than my racing thoughts, and my words came out sluggish from sleep.

My dream terrified me and only increased my desire to return home.

Nella helps me drink some water, and I allow it to soothe my throat. My voice was hoarse and scratchy. I vaguely noticed I was shaking slightly. Whether it was from my slowly decreasing fever or my fears I don't know.

"James, youncan't walk. You're too weak," Nella says, brushing my hair out of my face in a delicate gesture.

I close my eyes tightly. "I need to get to her," I whisper desperately. I feel so completely helpless I was beginning to feel ridiculous.

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