“Can we not talk about Levi right now? There are too many other things on my mind.”
Sarah stirred the soup. “How is Storm?” She gave her sister an encouraging smile.
“No better. His mother keeps asking when he will be able to get up and play. What am I supposed to tell her?”
Callie had spoken the question aloud without meaning to. She had hoped to spare Sarah the devastating news that she didn’t think three-year-old Storm would survive the high fever he’d had for a day.
Sarah crossed the room, paying no attention to the wooden ladle she had let fall into the soup. She took Callie’s hand in her own and turned it back and forth a few times before patting it.
“You can tell me the truth. You are afraid we are going to lose him, are you not?”
Callie fought the tears forming in her eyes. She was supposed to be the strong one. When had Sarah become so perceptive? She had never paid much attention to what went on around her before.
“Whatever happens is God’s will.”
Sarah dropped into the chair beside Callie’s. “Sometimes I do not understand this God we worship,” she said. “He took our parents away and tore our family apart, but you insist He loves us. How can you say that, Callie?”
Callie’s shoulders hurt and her legs were tired, but she met her sister’s gaze squarely. “Because God is love, Sarah. It is not our place to question why He works the way He does.”
“I think He could go a little easier on us sometimes.”
“He has His reasons.”
Callie didn’t understand why she could remember only the past five years of her life, and she didn’t know why Joshua had shown up now, but she was determined to trust God to reveal the answers at the right time.
Sarah sniffed the air. “Soup is ready.”
Callie chuckled. “It does not smell like you have burned it this time.”
Sarah rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “You will never let me forget that, will you?”
“One thing is sure,” Callie said with a straight face. “If you do not improve your skills, your future husband may starve.”
After a shared chuckle, they sipped the thin broth that would be much better once the vegetables in the garden began to produce.
five
“Will it help?” Kukara Killbuck, Storm’s mother, asked between sobs.
Callie waited breathlessly for Joshua’s response. The depth of pain in Kukara’s eyes made Callie wish she had summoned him sooner to treat little Storm. The boy’s life now hung in the balance because of her pride.
Her heart staggered in her chest. How could she have done this? She thought back over the last four days. Storm’s fever had risen steadily, no matter what she tried. When she finally realized her treatment was not helping, she called on Joshua. He had given Storm a potion, and they waited now for signs that the medicine was helping.
“We shall see,” Joshua offered. His solemn tones underlined the seriousness of the situation.
Callie looked at him, willing him to understand how sorry she was. He glanced at her, but the familiar spark in his eyes that she had begun to look forward to was missing.
She watched Kukara’s hand as the slender woman caressed her son’s face. Her face was strained, and worry lines etched deep grooves around the edges of her almond-shaped eyes.
How did women endure it? Giving birth and thinking of the hundreds of things that could go wrong? Knowing the small babe you held in your arms might never grow to adulthood? The thoughts unsettled Callie.
Forcing herself not to concentrate on the depressing situation in her midst, Callie tried to find a substitute. Her eyes flitted around the cabin, searching for something familiar. What she found was Joshua staring at her. She would have given almost anything to know what he was thinking.
His face was carved stone, his jaw clenched and his brows drawn together. Then, as if he couldn’t look at her any longer, he turned away and watched Storm’s chest rise in deep, rasping breaths.
Joshua had grimaced at his first sight of the ill young boy, and Callie had withdrawn into a corner of the cabin rather than face him. She knew he must be disgusted that she had let the child suffer for so long.
“You must do something,” Kukara wailed. “He is my only child!”
The agony in her words jolted Callie. What if Storm didn’t make it? Panic stirred in her soul. Why hadn’t she acted sooner? Would God call her to task when she stood her judgment day? What would she have to say for herself: “I am so sorry I worried more about what Joshua Johnston thought of me than I did about the boy’s illness”? No, she didn’t think God would approve of that excuse.
“He is doing all he can,” Callie heard herself say, despite feeling that her eternity was now condemned to something other than heaven.
Kukara’s glance skittered between Joshua and Callie. “There must be more!” She threw a hand against her lips, and the rest of her wail disappeared into her palm.
“Storm is in God’s hands now,” Joshua admitted.
Kukara grabbed Joshua’s elbow. “You are Healer.” Tears ran down her cheeks and formed splotches on her deerskin garment. “Save him.”
“Kukara.” Joshua shook his head. “It is God who can save Storm, not me.” He dipped a rag in water and laid it on the boy’s forehead, his fingers pressing lightly against the fevered brow.
Callie moved to stand behind Kukara and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. This was so difficult. Please, God, she prayed silently. Help me say the right thing.
“We must trust in God,” she began, “and in His will.” She had tried to sound compassionate, but the grating sound of her voice hung in the air.
“His will takes too long! I want answers now!” Kukara threw herself across her son’s limp body, her cries muffled by the thin blanket covering him.
“God’s grace comes when He decrees.” Joshua backed away from the bed and stood by the wall, but nothing in his manner indicated scorn or discouragement as he leaned against the logs.
“Nothing we do, except prayer, will change that. I must leave; there are others I must tend to.” He settled his hat on his head and picked up the saddlebag he carried everywhere.
Callie swallowed a lump of disbelief. He was leaving! How could he, when Storm might be about to die!
Kukara lurched away from her son and clutched at Joshua’s sleeve. “You not leave now. You stay with Storm.”
Callie held her breath. What would he do? What would she do without him?
He laid a hand over Kukara’s. “I will be back after I check on the others. Would you have them go without treatment?” He looked straight into the night-brown eyes of Kukara. “The medicine is working. Listen.”
Callie did. Storm’s breathing did seem less labored than it had been earlier. His face was still pasty, though. She knew the worst was not over.
“You stay,” Kukara repeated. She slipped away and pulled a small pouch from under a wooden crate. “If you go, I use this.” She raised her hand and shook the container. Keeping one eye on Joshua, she withdrew a handful of dirt and moved toward her son, where she slowly raised her hand above the boy’s head.
“Do not!” Callie and Joshua spoke together, their eyes meeting, then breaking away to return to Kukara. Tears streamed down the woman’s cheeks, creating tracks on her bronzed skin.
“I must give back to Earth-Mother what Earth-Mother gave to me.” Kukara’s voice held a strand of courage as ancient as the Indian heritage she came from.
Joshua clenched his jaw. Sprinkling dirt on the boy was Kukara’s way of committing his soul back to the earth. She was giving up, something he would not let her do.
“We must allow God to do His work,” he began as he moved slowly toward her.
Callie noticed how calm he appeared, and silently gave him high marks for his ability to remain unruffled. She certainly was having a hard time maintaining any semblance of control.
Kukara chewed her bottom lip while her
hand edged out to hover over her son’s chest.
Joshua’s sharp glance at Callie stunned her. Was he pleading silently for her to help? She struggled to keep her emotions in check as she tried to figure out what she could do. She hesitated too long. Joshua moved his gaze back to Kukara.
“Have you been doing this all along?” he asked. David had mentioned to him that upon conversion to Christianity, the Delawares had promised to give up their tribal ceremonies and beliefs. He didn’t like it, but he could understand how, when faced with tragedy, some might turn back to the comforting traditions they had dismissed.
Kukara appeared torn between wanting to answer him truthfully and giving him the answer she thought he wanted to hear. Though one hand bravely hovered above her son’s chest, the other was wrapped tightly in a band of fringe that traveled the length of her long buckskin dress.
“Callie knew,” she murmured.
Oh, my, Callie thought. There would be no avoiding Joshua now. She cringed as Joshua jerked his head around to peer at her.
“Is that true?” he demanded. “You are supposed to encourage these people in their new life. How could you allow something like this?”
Her eyes grew tearful at his criticism. Somehow, she had expected him to remain distanced from anything that happened. The fact he had not was disturbing, but she could not put her finger on the reason why.
“I. . .I did not think. . .it would hurt.” She had thought she was encouraging Kukara. Yes, the woman had threatened before to return to her old beliefs, but Callie had never taken her seriously. And what did Joshua know of reaching within himself and finding resources he did not know he had to help others?
“You did not think. . .” Joshua blurted. As quickly as he had allowed his irritation to show, he closed his eyes and rolled his head heavenward. “Pray with me.”
Callie was grateful for the interruption. At least it meant his accusing eyes were not piercing her. She dropped her head without checking to see what Kukara had done. Joshua’s solemn tones filled the room, slowing Callie’s heart rate and forcing her to concentrate on something other than the small boy on the cot.
When the prayer ended, Callie did feel calmer, but she saw Kukara’s hand shaking as the dirt drifted out in a tiny stream on Storm’s chest. Had the woman not been listening to anything Joshua had just said?
An ominous silence filled the cabin. Joshua reached out and gently guided Kukara’s trembling hand toward the pouch he now held. Indecision seemed to filter through her eyes. Then, slowly, her hand turned over and dirt sifted from her palm into the pouch.
Joshua smiled cautiously. “Put it away and promise me you will not use it again.”
Callie could see Kukara struggling with his request. His large fingers spanned the woman’s shoulders easily, and she watched as he focused solely on Kukara. Some monumental bond of trust appeared to spring between them. Kukara nodded.
Storm whimpered and Callie raced to him, trying to still her own quivering shoulders. She bent over the boy, running her hand across his brow and pushing the tangled mass of thick black hair back off his forehead.
The thump behind her startled her, and she swung her head around to find Kukara collapsed on the floor.
❧
Callie watched Joshua carry Kukara to the other bed across the room. It was strange seeing him take care of people who had been her patients. She waited until he backed away, then moved to do what she could. She dipped a cloth in water and wiped the day-old tears from Kukara’s face, keeping a safe distance from Joshua. For some reason, she had to concentrate extra hard on the task at hand.
“She will come around,” Joshua said over her shoulder.
She hadn’t heard him approach, but she gathered her scattered wits and nodded her acknowledgment. “What about Storm?”
“Trust in God.”
His voice echoed in the cabin’s utter stillness. Icy fear twisted her heart as she recalled he had said the same thing to Kukara earlier. “Then you do not have the answers to every crisis we have here?”
Since she was not looking directly at him, she felt confident in her ability to question him. One look into his lake-deep eyes and she would have forgotten anything but how he had dashed to her rescue—or rather, Storm’s rescue, she reprimanded herself.
“I have answers, Callie. But not to the questions you are asking. Only God has those.” His eyes narrowed and he touched a finger to the brim of his hat.
She knew he expected her to pursue the conversation, but she didn’t feel up to it. “How long have you believed in God?”
“Five years,” he replied.
Five years! She would have been eighteen, newly homeless, being cared for by compassionate Moravians, and just discovering she had no memory of her life before the flood.
“You?” His voice dropped to a soothing level and she understood why so many villagers were enamored of him. He was easy to talk to and seemed genuinely eager to listen.
“About the same,” she mumbled. Not too long after Callie was taken in by the Moravians, Brother David and some of the women had spent several weeks in in-depth Bible study with her and Sarah. When faced with the overwhelming evidence of what Jesus had done for her, Callie had readily agreed to baptism. Sarah had, too, but much later.
So why did the length of her life as a Christian concern him?
He smiled. “Then we share that in common.”
“What does it matter what we share in common?” She motioned to Storm. “He may not live through the day, and Kukara’s exhausted. How can you talk about something as trivial as what we have in common?”
“Because our belief in God is not trivial. It is a vital part of our lives.” Joshua motioned around the cabin. “Or do you not truly believe?” The hard edge to his voice was unmistakable.
Callie squared her shoulders. “How dare you question my faith. God will never fail me, unlike others who. . .who. . . never mind.”
Darkness crossed Joshua’s face and she wondered what she had said that caused him to react so. But more important were her own emotions. She might not recall the actual event, but the pain of knowing she had been abandoned was not something she had been able to put behind her. She didn’t think she ever would.
“Not everyone betrays a trust intentionally.” Joshua studied a section of chinking in the wall that had come loose. “You must have someone on whom you can depend?”
“God is sufficient.”
He laid a hand over his heart. “Then I pray that brings you peace. Perhaps someday we can discuss this further.” There was a challenge in his voice she could not ignore.
“I am at peace,” she assured him.
“Good. I would not be able to stand it if you were not.”
Exactly what did he mean by that? Callie started to ask, but he removed his hat and with the fingers of one hand pushed his long wavy hair toward the back of his head. “I am going now,” he said. “Call out if you need me. Otherwise, I will check on the boy this evening.”
She watched the door in disbelief. He really had gone. When that fact had sunk into her scrambled brain, she swallowed the agony growing inside and turned her mind to Kukara. The woman was now awake and questioning again what would happen to her only child.
It took great strength, but Callie assured her there was nothing else they could do for Storm but pray.
“I will stay with you,” she promised.
As time wore on, they talked about Pennsylvania and about how Kukara missed the family she left behind. Callie knew the woman’s nervous chatter diverted her mind from worry, so she let Kukara prattle, content to listen with one ear while musing over her conversation with Joshua.
Despite his apparent distaste of her handling of Storm’s illness, perhaps he was not such a bad sort. He had responded quickly to her request to tend to Storm, and he had been gentle in his dealings with a distraught Kukara. So why then, at times, did he seem so distant? He spoke to her, but it was never as if he talked with her. In the
wilds, people relied upon each other for assistance, for survival. Did he not know that?
She decided Joshua Johnston would have to change his ways if he had any plans of remaining with the settlement, and she promptly turned her mind back to Kukara, who was in the middle of asking a question.
The beauty of the Pennsylvania hills was at stake. Callie countered with the idea that this “O-he-yo” land also had some lovely scenery. She had just promised to go on a long hike with Kukara, as soon as Storm was able, when someone pounded at the door.
For a moment her pulse raced as she thought it might be Joshua returning. But the gruff “Open up” could only belong to one person—Levi. Callie hesitated, weighing the consequences of letting him in with Kukara still lying on the bed.
“Company is always welcome,” Kukara said, though Callie caught the break in her voice and wondered where the woman found the courage to pretend all was well.
She ignored the black cloud threatening to cover her heart as she pulled the heavy door open. Levi pushed past her into the cabin and cast a basket onto a spindly table before turning to glance around. Three candles sat near each bed, but the light they gave off barely pushed back the darkness. As a result, his face was shaded, making it hard for her to see his expressions.
“What a surprise,” Callie managed. “May I ask why you have come?” She sat on the edge of Kukara’s bed.
Levi stood in front of the fireplace. The low flames behind him did not illuminate his face, but she sensed he was glaring. “Do you really have to ask? Is it not enough that I have taken the time to fix that?” He nodded toward the basket.
Callie swallowed her retort. This was not the Levi she knew. Her heart slipped into a frightening rhythm, and her hands dampened with sweat. “You apparently are not aware of the severity of Storm’s illness,” she said. Her gaze slipped cautiously to Storm as she tried to decide which of them needed her protection the most, Kukara or her son.
A Different Kind of Heaven Page 5