Free Souls Aflame by Patricia Hagan

flailed wildly at the air.
    A chill began, slowly at first, then moved to rattle her bones as her body contorted with spasms of cold. Her teeth chattered, and she huddled beneath the blankets, jerking and twisting from head to toe as she struggled to focus her eyes in the ever-tightening cloak of oblivion wrapping itself around her.
    She was only dimly aware of people entering the cabin, of the chatter of concerned voices. From far, far away, a man was saying, “Yes’m, she’s got the fever. It hits sudden-like, and she’s got it right smart bad. Not much we can do except keep her warm and try to keep broth going in her so she won’t get too weak…”
    The sound faded. There was only a giant roaring in her ears that grew louder, louder, pulling, suddenly snatching at her. The shivering stopped, and in its place came a wave of heat pressing down, smothering her, drawing the breath from her body. She was fighting to stay afloat on a sea of fire, dimly frightened, feeling that at any moment her flesh would erupt into crackling flames.
    Out of the darkness an unseen hand was reaching to coax her away from her suffering…and Julie held out weak arms to grasp that hand…grateful for escape…

Chapter Five
    The invisible mammoth fingers opened, releasing her from their grasp. Julie was free. She had returned. She opened her eyes wearily, with great effort. She had an intense feeling of being drained physically and emotionally, as though she had been on a long, long journey.
    But where was she now?
    It came back slowly, heavily. The ship…on the way to Bermuda…then on to England and marriage…her cabin…no, not her cabin. This one was a bit larger and furnished differently. The bed on which she lay was longer. There were two portholes instead of one. A bigger desk occupied one side of the room, and it was covered with stacks of papers. Straining to see, she realized the papers appeared to be charts or maps of some sort.
    There was a table, two chairs, a lantern hanging from a hook in the ceiling. Austere, sparse, almost harsh in decor.
    She pushed back the blankets, which were like a giant weight upon her, and sat up, swinging about to gingerly test her feet against the rough-hewn wood floor. The ship was moving; she could feel the chugging steamer cutting through the waters. They were not in port, but she had a sense of time having passed…a lot of time.
    She noted with distaste that the muslin gown she wore was stained, and her hair felt limp and dirty.
    She stood on wobbly legs, then slowly shuffled over to stare at her reflection in the mirror which hung on the opposite wall. Gaunt, shadowy eyes stared back, with deep, dark circles beneath them. Her complexion was pale and sallow, her lips parched and swollen. She shuddered at the sight.
    The door swung open. She spun around in surprise and started to topple forward from weakness. Derek Arnhardt stepped up quickly to grab her elbows and steady her.
    He smiled, his eyes mirroring concern. “So you’re awake at last. Here, let me help you back to bed. You’re still weak, as you’ve probably discovered by now, and you’ve got no business being up and about.”
    She did not protest, but once he had tucked her snugly back into bed, she erupted with questions. “Where am I? This isn’t my cabin. How long have I been asleep?”
    He chuckled softly. “You’ve been more than asleep. You’ve had the fever, and quite a case, I’m afraid. You gave us all a fright. The good doctor Jenkins cared for you, along with your mother. Then the two of them were stricken. I decided it best to quarantine that deck, and since there was no one else I could risk having exposed in order to look after you, I had you brought here. This is my cabin.”
    He went on to quickly assure her that her mother had not been quite so sick and didn’t need constant care. “When I tell her you’re awake and the fever’s finally broken, she’ll be in to visit.
    “We were worried for awhile