All too vividly, she remembered waking up, her throat burning, her eyes stinging, as tongues of fire licked the edge of her bed. Unable to escape the flames, she had screamed until she was hoarse, sobbing for Gabriel, her angel, to come and save her. She remembered the awful horror that had coiled within her, the terrible certainty that she was going to die. And then the flames had touched her, licking at her skin...
She held up her arm and stared, disbelieving what she saw. The skin, which last night had been raw and red, was almost healed.
Throwing back the covers, she examined her chest, her legs, but saw only the glow of pink healthy skin.
It was impossible. A miracle. She lifted her hand, turning it this way and that, unable to believe the proof of her own eyes.
She frowned a moment, bemused to find herself clad in a modest white sleeping gown. A faint blush heated her cheeks as she realized that Gabriel had dressed her for bed, that he had seen her unclothed while she slept.
And then she saw the doll and she forgot everything else.
The ballerina was made of fine china, her face beautifully painted. Her eyes were big and blue, her lips a delicate rose. She wore a tutu of pale pink tulle; dainty pink ballet slippers covered her feet.
"Oh..." Reverently, Sara reached for the doll. It was the loveliest thing she had ever seen. "Carlotta," she whispered. "I shall name you Carlotta."
Sara glanced around the room, hoping to see Gabriel. It was then she noticed the pretty little table beside the bed. Wide-eyed, she stared at the flowers, the book, the heart-shaped box of chocolates, the wicker basket covered with a linen cloth.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, she reached for the book, carefully turning the pages, and then she reached for the chocolates, her mouth watering.
Candy of any kind had been a rare treat in the orphanage. She quickly gobbled down two pieces, and then laughed. The whole box was for her, to eat at her leisure. She touched the flowers, her fingertips caressing the velvety petals. Flowers. No one had ever given her flowers before.
Feeling like a queen, she nibbled a third chocolate, then took a drink of water, wondering all the while where Gabriel was.
After a time, she drew the basket onto her lap and peeked inside to find a small loaf of honey bread, a wedge of cheese, grapes and apples.
Such luxury, she thought, to sit in bed and indulge. She spent the rest of the morning reading. When noontime came, she finished the food in the basket, then took a nap.
When she woke, it was almost dark. Sitting up, she glanced around the dusky room, the need to relieve herself uppermost in her mind.
She was on the verge of tears, afraid she would disgrace herself, when Gabriel entered the room.
"You're looking well, cara," he remarked, and then frowned at the expression of distress on her face. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I need... I need to..." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How did a lady tell a man that she needed a bedpan?
But there was no need. Understanding dawned in the depths of Gabriel's eyes. Wordlessly, he swept her into his arms and carried her down a long hall lined with narrow cells.
He stepped into the first cell, uncovered the chamber pot in the corner, raised her gown, and placed her on it.
Avoiding her gaze, he left the room.
She couldn't face him when he returned.
"Sara? Sara, listen to me. You needn't be embarrassed. I'm only sorry I didn't anticipate your needs sooner. Forgive me."
She mumbled something completely inane under her breath, wishing he would just go away and leave her alone. It had been bad enough when the nuns tended her, but this was beyond enduring. She wanted him to think of her as a woman, not a helpless child.
"Sara..."
She heard the sound of his footsteps as he crossed the floor, and then he was kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his.
"Sara, look at me."
"I can't."
"It's a perfectly normal function of the body."
She felt her cheeks grow hotter.
"If you're going to stay here with me, you had best get used to my helping you."
"Stay here?" She looked up then. "Do you mean it?"
"If you wish it."
"Oh, I do."
"Good, then let's have no more foolishness." He swung her into his arms and carried her back to her bed. "Did you enjoy the poetry?"