A Place of Peace by Iris Penn Page B

eleven
     
     
    “You look like one just returned from the land of the dead,” Lilly laughed as Colby sat up in his bed.  He lay propped up on a pile of pillows stacked beneath him, while Lilly sat beside him, a bowl of steaming broth in her hand.  She dipped the spoon in and gave him another taste.
    It was morning, but Colby wasn’t sure how long he had been out.  His leg was not hurting anymore, and he supposed he had Lilly to thank for that.  Now she fed him with the skill and care of a mother feeding a child, and the broth was good and hot.
    The first thing she had noticed was that his color had returned.  It was not the feverish redness that marked a high temperature, but a warmer pink hue that told her his fever had broken and he was on the road to recovery.
    There was a brief knock, and Holcomb poked his head in.  “How’s everything today?” he asked.  Colby nodded, glad to see his friend, but Lilly frowned, looking as if something important had just been disrupted.
    “He’s better,” she said.  “Open up, now.”  Another spoon of broth vanished in Colby’s mouth.  “See?  His appetite has returned.”
    “Good,” said Holcomb, standing awkwardly in the door.  “I’m glad to see it.”
    Lilly put the bowl and spoon down and turned to glare at Holcomb.  “Did you need something?”
    “I need to speak with Colby, if that’s okay,” said Holcomb, a little taken by her attitude.  “But I can wait until he’s finished eating.”
    “Good,” said Lilly, picking up the bowl again.  Colby raised a hand and stopped her before the next spoonful reached him.
    “Please, Lilly.  Can you give us a moment?”
    Lilly looked hurt for a brief moment, then put the bowl down and stood, brushing the drops off her skirt.  “Very well,” she said, giving Holcomb a fierce look as she passed.  “If you need me, just holler.”
    “Thanks, Lilly,” Colby called after her as she slammed the door behind her.  Holcomb wanted to laugh, and he was still shaking his head as he came over to the bed and sat down.
    “Nice woman,” said Colby.
    “Crazy, is what she is,” said Holcomb.  “But she’s got her eye on you.  She’s taken quite a liking to you, I can tell.”  Colby blushed and closed his eyes.  Holcomb kept speaking.  “However, when you’re ready, we need to go.  I don’t mean to push you, but we can’t stay here forever.”
    “How long have we been here?” asked Colby, opening his eyes.
    “Three days,” said Holcomb.  “You’ve been out most of that time.  I, however, have had the extreme pleasure of keeping Lilly company.  She let me sleep in one of the storage rooms.  Not bad, really.  I had a nice blanket and a pillow.  The whole time she’s been hovering over you like a mother circling her babes.  She gave you quite a lot of morphine.  That’s probably why you don’t feel any pain.”
    “She had morphine?”
    “Doctor’s daughter.  She hid a bottle from the Yanks.”
    In fact, Colby could still feel the drowsiness calling him back to sleep. 
    “Don’t get used to it,” warned Holcomb.  “I’ve heard a lot of stories about soldiers and morphine.  I wouldn’t let her give me any more, if I could help it.  Just a little to take the edge off the pain, but you don’t need to overdo the stuff.”
    “Really?  And how many legs have you had chopped off?”
    “Not funny, son.  She’s got your little picture.  The one you’ve been carrying around.  Found it in your pocket.”
    Colby’s drowsiness fell off of him, leaving him cold.  “What did she do with it?”  There was a sudden alarm in his voice, and Holcomb thought for a moment, he was going to leap out of bed and go after it.
    “Relax,” Holcomb said.  “I assume she’s still got it.  Why don’t you ask her when she comes back in?  I sure she could give it back to you.”
    “Yeah,” said Colby.  “You’re probably right.”
    The door opened and Lilly came in smiling.