Breathe Again

Chapter 14

Over the next four days, both women visited for an hour or more to relieve Sterling's boredom and keep him resting in bed. But, with each visit the women paid, the desire to be back to his normal health grew stronger, and both Sterling and Ashfield struggled to find patience in dealing with one another.

On the morning of the fifth day, Ashfield entered the room to check on his patient, and found Sterling up and dressed, ready to go back to work at the lumber mill.

After ten minutes of Sterling disputing his case, and finding Ashfield unbending in his demands for his stubborn patient to remain in bed, Sterling brought up what he thought to be a very accommodating compromise.

"What if I promise not to do any overly taxing activity?" Sterling argued.

"Make a list, and I'll review it when I get back from my rounds today."

Sterling growled and thumped his fist against the wall, "How the hell do you expect me to get back my strength when all you allow me to do is lay in bed all day, sipping that terrible broth?"

Ashfield took a deep breath and counted to ten. This was the same argument they had been having ever since Louisa and Dottie began stopping by with Sterling awake. They'd somehow breathed new life and purpose into Sterling, making everything ten times more difficult.

"Fine," Ashfield breathed in defeat. "If you feel you're up to going to work, who am I to stop you? I'm only the doctor who studied medicine for several years, after all, then patched you back up all nice as could be, and has kept you alive for the past week!" He turned and left the room, grumbling under his breath as he grabbed his hat and bag. "But what do I know?"

Sterling's hesitant steps echoed against the wooden floorboards behind him.

Ashfield ground his teeth and looked over his shoulder at Sterling, "Take it easy at the very least. Do office work, nothing strenuous. And rest when you need to. There is no need to rush your recovery." He plopped his hat onto his head and scowled, "If I'm called to tend to you because you've disobeyed my directions, I'll..."

When Ashfield only glared without finishing his threat, Sterling goaded, "You'll what?"

Ashfield pasted on a toothy grin, "Let's hope you don't have to find out."

He pulled the door open and deeply exhaled when he left and allowed the door to shut firmly behind him. Even though he had to admit their disputes were somewhat enjoyable and invigorating to an extent, he was dismayed at finding a grey hair this morning that he knew hadn't been there when he went to bed last night.

Arguing with the stubborn, pig-headed—he frowned. He was quickly running out of words to describe Sterling, which made sense since arguing with the dratted man was making him old—it was that simple.

Sterling watched the door close and smiled. He knew that eventually, Ashfield would surrender to his wishes. Now all he had to do was prove that he was up to working as he'd insisted.

~~~~~~

Three hours later, Sterling wished he had listened to Ashfield. He sat behind the massive oak desk in his office, resting his head in his hands and tried to remember why he wasn't lying in bed.

The room not only tilted and spun, making him nauseous and lightheaded, but the air in his office was thick with heat. Earlier he'd opened the outside window, hoping a breeze would find its way into the room to offer some relief; but the smell of boiled beef and cabbage from the mess hall only made it worse.

A second window looked out from his office onto the workshop beyond, where massive circular saws moved at dizzying speeds slicing through lengths of wood as easily as a hot knife through butter. The pungent aroma of freshly cut wood permeated the air.