Amethyst by Lauraine Snelling Read Free Book Online Page B

hours, and then we’ll give you a good bath. Amazing how much better you’ll feel.”
    Like a small child being fed, Amethyst opened her mouth every time the spoon reached her lips. Never had she been so weak she couldn’t at least feed herself. Gratitude brimmed over, and a tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another.
    “Is there something else I can do for you? Do you hurt anywhere?”
    Amethyst shook her head, but the tears continued.
    When Amethyst finished the broth, Mrs. Sampson dipped a cloth in a basin of water she’d brought. “Here now, this will make you feel better.” She gently washed her patient’s face and hands, then patted them dry with a soft cloth. “I have some cream here that will help too.” She smoothed a creamy liquid over Amethyst’s face and rubbed it into her hands.
    “Roses. In the winter?”
    “Yes, I add rose petals. Sick folk need something soothing that smells good.”
    “Yes. Thank you.”
    “You are most welcome. I think I’ll go on to bed now, but there is a bell here for you to ring if you need anything.”
    Amethyst nodded, her eyelids so heavy she just gave up and drifted back to sleep.

    When she woke again many hours must have passed because now Mrs. Grant had taken the chair, moved it over closer to the window, and sat reading. Amethyst watched the woman who’d been her savior, watched the sunbeams play with the fine strands of white hair until her whole head appeared to be afire, glinting like sun on snow, making her smile. She must have shifted, because Mrs. Grant looked up, marked her place in the book, and set it aside.
    “You are looking far better than when we left the train. Welcome back.”
    “How will I ever thank you?” Ah, finally she could give voice without sounding like a frog croaking from a pond.
    “Just by getting well. Would you like a drink?”
    “Yes, please.” At that moment she realized thirst rampaged through her like marauding foxes. She drank from the cup that Mrs. Grant held, was even able to hold up her own head, although the action made her pant with the effort.
    “I’m going for Mrs. Sampson. She said to let her know when you awoke and she’d bring in breakfast.”
    “Thank you.” Was that actually hunger she felt growling in her middle?
    Between the two women, Amethyst was fed, bathed, and clothed in a clean nightdress that felt heavenly against skin that had indeed been soothed by the cream they’d rubbed over her entire body.
    “I smell like a flower garden.” She lifted her hand to her face and sniffed. “Do you by any chance have a receipt for your cream? How I would love to make something like this.” Back when I am home again and can use some ingredients from my garden .
    “I will write it up for you. I get the glycerin over at the apothecary. My mother used goose fat for her skin, but this is much more soothing. You can put mint in it too, or sometimes I’ve used lavender. That makes a real nice lotion.”
    Mrs. Grant rubbed the leftovers into the backs of her own hands. “Have you ever thought of making this to sell?”
    “Oh no. I just make enough for my patients. That little bit of extra caring helps them get better more quickly. I use the mint for men. They don’t take to smelling like a flower garden. It helps when someone is in bed so long they get bedsores.”
    “I think you should make it to sell. I know many women who would purchase a lotion like this.” Mrs. Grant sniffed the back of her hand again. “Delightful.”

    The next day Mrs. Grant was again sitting by the bed. “Would you like me to read to you?”
    “Oh, would you? No one’s read to me since Ma did when I was a little girl. How she found time to read to us, I’ll never know. Mostly it was in the winter around the fire, when Pa was gone.” She didn’t add that her pa had frequented the saloon more often than was good for him, or for them either, for that matter. She thought back to her home, wondering if he was taking proper