The Scholar

by Tess Thompson

“Mother, it’s late. Were you waiting up for me?” I shivered in the chill of the room. Without Theo’s jacket for warmth, my bare arms were cold.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She set aside her knitting. “Did you have a nice time?”

  “I did. You weren’t worried, were you?”

  “Not with Theo.”

  That made two of us.

  “What’s making you smile that way?” Mother asked.

  “Some of the old gang from school came down and made a bonfire.” I sat across from her and slipped my feet out of my shoes. “I had such fun.” I told her about the music and meeting the Hartmans. “The Olofsson boys were there. They had us all laughing. Poppy was there too. And she thinks Neil Hartman is handsome. I think Cymbeline might be jealous of Emma and Viktor.”

  “Does she need to be?”

  “I’m not sure. I think they’re only friends.” I sat forward in the chair. “Mother, Theo wants to marry me.”

  She stared at me. “He asked you?”

  “He said he would marry me tomorrow if he could but no, not formally. We talked about it more like a concept.”

  “Do you want to marry him?” Mother asked.

  “A marriage to Theo would solve all our problems.” I was too shy to say how much I cared for him or how my legs had weakened when he kissed me.

  “I can’t let you do it just for me.”

  “What if you get sick again? How would we pay for another surgery?”

  She picked up her knitting. “If I thought you sacrificed yourself simply for me, I couldn’t bear it. What kind of mother lets her daughter marry only for money to save the family?”

  “Daughters have been doing this since the dawn of time.”

  She went back to knitting, her needles making the familiar clicking sound. “There’s no finer man.”

  “True. He’s kind and gentle and generous.” I plucked the pins from my hair and let it cascade down my back. My scalp ached from where the hair had been pulled particularly tight. Thinking of marrying Theo was a bit like letting my hair out of its clips: freeing. “I feel things. A lot of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Safe. Appreciated. Understood.”

  “Those are all good feelings,” Mother said.

  “I had fun tonight. It felt good to laugh.”

  “You deserve to laugh.”

  “Yes, a marriage would be good for you and me, but I wouldn’t do it just for that reason. He’s special, Mother.”

  Mother’s brows raised. “That’s very good. Very good indeed.”

  “He said he’d wait forever if he had to.” I smiled, remembering what he’d said about the longest courtship ever. I massaged my neck with the tips of my fingers. “I told him everything about what happened. Pa’s part in it. I wanted to make sure he knows what kind of woman he would be marrying.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Pa’s blood runs through my veins. A man who would sell his own daughter’s body.”

  “That man has nothing to do with who you are,” Mother said. “I don’t want you to ever think about that again.”

  “Easier said than done.” I stood and leaned over to kiss her soft cheek. “Good night, Mother. Please try to get some sleep.”

  “I will, dearest.”

  In my room, I dropped to my knees to say my nightly prayers. A sudden sadness washed over me. Father had always said good night to me with the same request. Don’t forget to say your prayers.

  “I won’t forget, Father,” I whispered. “Thank you for watching over me.”

  13

  Theo

  * * *

  The next morning, dew sparkled on the grasses in the meadow as I pulled out of our driveway and onto the dirt road toward town. Dr. Neal had called the house early this morning, asking me to check in on Mrs. Cassidy before heading into the office.

  The Cassidys’ farm looked pretty in the rays of morning sunlight that filtered through the trees. Nora, already hard at work, came out of the barn to greet me.

  “I hope you’re not too tired this morning,” I said. “We both stayed up too late for working folks.”

  She lifted the leather hat from her head and wiped perspiration from her brow. “Our rooster made sure I was up with the sun.”

  “How’s your mother this morning?”

  “About the same. No worse, no better.” Nora squinted up at the sun before putting her hat back over her cropped blond hair. “She’s inside, reading her letters again.” She frowned as she tugged on the loops over her overalls. “Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it—loving someone so much only to lose them?”

  “She has her memories,” I said, lamely. What was the answer, anyway? Better to have loved with all your heart or better to stay cold and avoid pain?

  “And those letters,” Nora said.

  I reached into the back of my car to pull out a small wooden box holding several jars of Lizzie’s canned pickles and strawberry jam. “My mother sent these.”

  “Lizzie’s jam?”

  “And pickles,” I said.

  “Mother will be pleased,” Nora said. “She loves jam. Or normally she does, anyway.” She sighed as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her overalls. “I’d sure like a day where we don’t need the charity of you good people.”

  “People want to help.”

  “Yes, but I’d rather be the helper than the one in need.”

  I looked around the well-kept farm and healthy cows in their pasture. “You’re doing remarkably well, running all this by yourself.”

  “I appreciate your kind words.” She rocked back on her heels, seeming to think about what she wanted to say next.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Isak took me home last night. We had a nice talk.”

  “Why does that sound like a bad thing?”

  She smiled briefly before the mournful look returned to her eyes. “He mentioned his feelings for me. I thought I’d imagined them, but they were there. But he doesn’t know how we could ever marry if I’m tied to this farm. He has no interest in farming. I mean, why would he? His family are shopkeepers, not cattle ranchers. I can feel myself getting old out here, Theo. I felt like the oldest person in our group last night when I’m actually the youngest.”

  “I can see why.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about running away from all this.” She gestured toward the barn.

  “I thought you loved farming?”

  “Not without my family. Then, Mom got so sick, leaving absolutely everything to me. I don’t know. I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I always had my sisters. The three of us…were a unit. Then they had to go off and get married.” She said the last part with a hint of humor that did not match her sad expression. “I feel like they abandoned me—left me with the burden of the farm and our mother while they went off to the life they wanted. A life I want. Husband and children. Not this land that’s making me into a cranky old lady, tough as chewy meat.”

  “Would you want to sell it?” I asked.

  She looked down at the dirt, then kicked it with her boot. “What would my poor father think? He sacrificed everything to buy this land.”

  “Your father’s dream doesn’t have to be your burden.” I glanced down the driveway. “I could talk to my father. He might have ideas of a buyer. But where would you go?”

  She smiled, this time in a way that reached her eyes. “Isak’s building a cottage. He said he’d like some company. My company.”

  “I see.” I smiled back at her, pleased for my friends. “I’ll talk to Papa and see what we can come up with.”

  “What about my mother?” Nora asked. “She’ll not want to leave the home she built with my dad.”

  “We need to get her well first. After that, we’ll figure out where she’d live.”

  “What’s going on with you and Louisa?”

  “Ah, well, I’m still trying to win her heart.”

  “How could she not fall in love with you?”
Nora asked.

  “People are complex. She’s been through a lot.”

  “If anyone can break through to her, it’s you.”

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence. I’m headed in now to see your mother. Do you want to come with me?”

  “I should. I’ll see if I can get her to eat a little something after you take a look at her.”

  We walked in silence across the yard and into the house. I couldn’t help but feel sorry to see the Cassidys’ dream dying right in front of me. Mr. Cassidy had worked himself to death out here, quite literally. I didn’t want the same fate for Nora. Especially not if my best friend wanted her for his bride. They deserved to be happy. Isak had managed to escape from his father’s desire to follow his path and become a tailor. Could we do the same for Nora?

  Mrs. Cassidy was in her bed. The letters were spread out over the patchwork quilt. She opened her eyes when we came into the bedroom. “Hello, Theo. What are you doing here? Nora, you didn’t call him?”

  “No, Dr. Neal asked me to come,” I said. “He wanted me to check on you.”

  “I’m sorry to be such a bother,” Mrs. Cassidy said.

  She looked worse to me than she had the other day. When I felt her forehead, her skin was clammy to the touch. The pallor of her complexion frightened me, as did the labored sound of her breathing. I placed my stethoscope on her back and listened. Liquid in her lungs. Pneumonia.

  I gave her some more of the syrup from my bag and told her to continue to drink as much water as she could. “Maybe try a little broth today?” I asked.

  “I’ll try.” Mrs. Cassidy glanced over at Nora. “Honey, would you leave me with Dr. Barnes for a moment?”

  “Yes, I’ll go scramble up some eggs,” Nora said.

  After she left, Mrs. Cassidy reached out to me, placing tepid fingers on my hand for a second. “Theo, I know I’m dying. Promise me you’ll help Nora sell this farm so she can be free.”

  I blinked in surprise. Had she known her daughter’s thoughts and feelings without Nora having to express them? Knowing my own mother’s abilities in this way, it shouldn’t have surprised me. “I’ll do whatever I can. But you’re not dying. I’m going to figure out what’s wrong.”

  “Even if you could, there’s no treatment once lungs are filled with fluid. I know that from having animals.” She fell back onto the pillows as she gestured toward the letters scattered around her. “This is all that’s left at the end. Letters from better times. A time when we lived on hope. Now everything’s lost.”

  “Get some rest,” I said. “I’ll be back later.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes.

  I said a silent prayer as I walked back to the kitchen. Lord, heal her, because I can’t.

  ***

  It was at the T in the road that it came to me. Mold. Mold could make a person sick. Nora had said the letters had been partially ruined by a flood in their basement. They would have collected mold, perhaps the kind that made a person sick. Especially a woman who was weakened already.

  I turned the car around and drove like a man possessed back to the farmhouse. Nora came rushing across the field at the sight of my car.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, breathless.

  “I think I know what’s making your mother sick.” I quickly explained my theory.

  “They were sitting in the cellar in dampness for a long time,” Nora said. “When we found them, the box was completely covered in black mold. I washed it off best I could, but Mom didn’t want to risk me smearing the letters.”

  “Is there anything else that has mold on it?”

  “The entire cellar is covered in it. No sooner do I wipe it away than it returns.”

  “What are you using to clean?”

  “Soap and water,” Nora said.

  “You need vinegar. It kills mold.” I looked over at the barn where her hired men were stacking bales of hay. “Send them down to the basement and have them scrub every surface.”

  “What about the box and letters? She’ll never part with them.”

  “We have to put them away at least. And the whole house should be cleaned. I’ll send my mother and sisters over later to help.”

  “You’re going to have to tell Mom about the letters. She’ll never listen to me.”

  “Hopefully she’ll look at me as a doctor and not Theo,” I said with a laugh.

  I squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  ***

  When I returned home from work that afternoon, I found Louisa and my sisters on the back porch playing cards. Warm from the afternoon heat, I took off my jacket as I loped up the steps.

  “Hi, Theo,” Fiona said. A pitcher of iced tea perspired on the end of the table. Each of the ladies had a glass next to her and a handful of cards.

  “What’re you playing?” I poured myself a glass of iced tea and sat in one of the empty chairs.

  “Old Maid,” Cymbeline said. “Louisa doesn’t know how to play poker.”

  “Father thought it was a game for heathens.” Louisa gave me an apologetic smile. “He was strict about certain things.”

  “He’s not incorrect.” I looked over at Cymbeline. “When did you two learn to play poker, anyway?”

  “Flynn taught us,” Fiona said, answering for both.

  “Don’t give me that look, Grandpa,” Cymbeline said to me. “We don’t use real money.”

  “Sunflower seeds mostly,” Fiona said. “Or raisins.”

  “What other vices did Flynn teach you while I was gone?”

  Cymbeline and Fiona exchanged a look but didn’t respond. I wondered what that meant.

  I drank down half of my iced tea. “I’m surprised you all aren’t down at the creek.”

  “Louisa and I were earlier,” Fiona said as she took one of Louisa’s cards. “We took the little girls down for a swim after lunch. Then came back up for tea and decided to get cleaned up and play cards.”

  “I helped Poppy this morning,” Cymbeline said. “We did our rounds, but there wasn’t much to do so I came home in time for tea.”

  “How was your day?” Fiona asked me.

  “Very good, thank you. I may have figured out what’s wrong with Mrs. Cassidy.” I shared my theory and basked in the glow of my sisters’ and Louisa’s comments about my cleverness. “You ladies make it nice to come home.”

  “Who wouldn’t like to come home to this house?” Louisa flushed pink. “I mean because of all of you, not the house itself.”

  “We love having you here,” Fiona said.

  I certainly did.

  “Flynn was by earlier.” Cymbeline held up her cards for Fiona to choose one. “He wondered if you wanted to come out for dinner tomorrow night. Shannon’s feeling much better.”

  I glanced at Louisa. Dinner with Flynn and Shannon? Would she want to do so? I’d ask her later when we were alone. “I’m glad Shannon’s feeling better.”

  “Me too,” Fiona said. “She’s normally such so robust. Flynn told us she couldn’t keep food down if it was before noon.”

  “Another reason not to get married,” Cymbeline said under her breath.

  “Mama gave Lizzie and Mrs. Wu the night off since it’s so hot. We’re having sandwiches for dinner,” Fiona said. “Out here on the porch.”

  Sandwiches for dinner? That gave me an idea. “Louisa, would you like to go out to the lodge for dinner?”

  “The lodge? I’d love to. I’ve never been.” Her face lit up for a second, followed by disappointment. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “We have something you can borrow,” Fiona said. “Right, Cym?”

  “Golly yes, between the two of us, I’m sure we can find something.” Cymbeline tugged one of two of Louisa’s remaining cards.

  “If you’re sure, then yes. How exciting. Only look.” Louisa set down her last card. “I’m the old maid.”

  Not if I had anything to do with it.

  14

&nb
sp; Louisa

  * * *

  After finishing up playing cards, Cymbeline and Fiona said they were going up to rest for a while before supper but said to come up in an hour to pick out a dress from their closets. Even Cymbeline seemed worn out from the heat.

  I went to check on Mother. I found her and Quinn in the sitting room talking quietly together. The little girls were there as well, reading on the window seat. They faced each other, one on each end, with their feet entangled. The two younger sisters were as close as Cymbeline and Fiona obviously were. A tinge of envy hit me. I should have liked to have siblings. If I married Theo, they would all be mine. I’d be part of a big, bickering, beautiful family. Mother too, if it came to fruition. I put that thought aside to focus on the present.

  “Hello, Louisa,” Quinn said. “Is everything all right? You have a pensive expression on your face.”

  “Yes, everything’s fine.” I walked over to where they were sitting across from each other on the couches. “Mother, is it all right if I go to the lodge for dinner with Theo?”

  “You don’t have to ask my permission, dear.” Mother patted my hand that rested on the arm of the sofa. “You’re a grown-up lady.”

  “Have you been before?” Quinn asked.

  “No, I haven’t. I’m happy to be asked.” I flushed, suddenly shy.

  “What will you wear?” Mother’s brow creased. “You don’t have anything formal enough, I don’t think.”

  “The girls said I could borrow a dress from them. We’re all about the same size.”

  “We should get you fitted for an evening dress of your own,” Quinn said. “You’ll need something for the fall and winter seasons.”

  “No, thank you. We’re enough of a burden.” How could I ask them to pay for a wardrobe when they were letting us live with them for nothing? I didn’t like charity. “I have everything I need. It’s not like I’ll be out every night.”

  “There’s no place to go, for one,” Quinn said with a laugh. “But what about the end-of-summer party? You’ll need a dress for it, won’t you?”