Finest Kind

by Lea Wait

  “I help some,” said Jake. “But I’ve been working for Mr. Holbrook, and am in school.”

  Dr. Theobold nodded. “Your mother is exhausted as well as ill. She needs rest. Is your father living with you?”

  “He’s lumbering,” said Jake.

  “Do you know when he’ll return?”

  Jake shook his head.

  “Is there anyone else who can help?”

  “No one knows about Frankie,” Jake said. “Mother and Father didn’t want people here to blame them because he is crippled and feebleminded.”

  “Jake, I can tell that your parents are good people, because of the way they’ve cared for Frankie,” said the doctor. “There’s no reason for them to hide him. It’s sad when a child is born like this, but we have no reason to believe, as our grandparents did, that such a birth is the result of sin or immorality.”

  “People still say it is,” said Jake.

  “There are ignorant people,” agreed Dr. Theobold. “The truth is we don’t know what causes such problems in children. Sometimes their births are early, or difficult. Sometimes an infant has a very high fever, and after that has severe fits. But in all my years of doctoring I’ve never seen reason to believe the behavior of the parents caused such illness.”

  “Can you make Frankie well?”

  “I’m giving him the same white willow tea I gave your mother, but less of it, since his body is smaller,” said Dr. Theobold, wrapping him again in the quilts. “The tea should take the fever down. I also have a potion that may help his cough. Does he have trouble swallowing?”

  “Yes,” said Jake. “He’s never been able to swallow liquids well. Mother feeds him bread or small pieces of meat or vegetables softened in milk or broth.”

  Dr. Theobold nodded. “Children like Frankie sometimes starve to death, or choke, because they cannot eat as normal children. Your mother was given good advice about caring for him, and has followed it well.” Dr. Theobold searched through his box of medicines. “Most of the cough medicines I have would be difficult for him to swallow. But I have one potion he may be able to manage.”

  “Do you have anything to stop his fits?” asked Jake.

  “I wish I did. But fits like Frankie’s are something we still don’t understand. You’ve kept him wrapped well, with soft pallets and quilts to prevent him from hurting himself. That, and holding him so he does not strike out, are all we can do for him.”

  Jake’s hopes dropped. “Granny McPherson gave me some Oswego tea leaves to soak in white wine. She said they would reduce his fits.”

  Dr. Theobold looked from Jake to Simon. “That’s why you took the bottle of wine from Whittier’s Tavern, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Simon. “I thought Jake had a friend who was sick. But it was his brother.”

  “I don’t know about the tea leaves,” said Dr. Theobold. “The wine might calm the movements of the fits, but Frankie is so small even a little alcohol could slow his whole body down, and that could present other problems. I’m sure Granny McPherson meant well, and she knows herbal remedies I’m not familiar with. Indeed, I’ve learned a lot from her. Perhaps this Oswego tea is like lemon balm, which apothecaries sell as a cure for fits.”

  “Does it work?” Jake asked.

  “I’m sorry to say it doesn’t. There are so many diseases we know little about, Jake.” Dr. Theobold was sitting Frankie up and gently spooning some of the willow tea down his throat. “We can’t even control all fevers and coughs. The simplest physical problems, like cuts or headaches, can be fatal. New remedies are developed every year, but few of them work as well as we would like, and when they do work, we often don’t know why. Sometimes an herb or treatment will cure one person, and not help another.” The doctor sighed. “Being a doctor is frustrating. Many times we can do little to help.”

  Jake’s mother started to shiver slightly.

  “You can stop wiping her with the cold cloth, now,” said Dr. Theobold. “Just cover her with the quilts and let her rest.” He looked at the timepiece in his pocket. “It’s almost eleven. You and Simon have both been awake and working since yesterday morning, and I don’t want either of you to get sick. Both of you, go and sleep. I’ll stay the night and give our patients willow tea when they need it. Do you have any rose hips?”

  “Yes. Granny McPherson told me to gather them.”

  “That’s a remedy that can work. Bring them to me, and if your mother recovers a little, I’ll brew her some rose hip tea. Right now she needs the willow tea and sleep more than anything. Frankie’s coughing and fits have exhausted him, too. Rest is the most important medicine for them both.”

  Jake suddenly realized how tired he was. And how comforting it was to have someone there he trusted, and who could help. “You’ll call me if they get worse? Or if I can do anything?” he asked.

  “I will. But you won’t be able to help tomorrow if you don’t sleep tonight.”

  Jake and Simon both climbed to the loft, and fell into deep sleep almost immediately.

  43

  Dr. Theobold’s willow tea worked. By morning Mother’s and Frankie’s fevers had broken, and they were able to take a few spoonfuls of heated broth from the stew Mother had started two days before.

  Mother was very weak. Jake helped her sit up on her pallet. She looked at Dr. Theobold. “You’re the doctor Jake wanted to send for.”

  “I’m Dr. Theobold, Mrs. Webber. Simon came to Wiscasset to find me and bring me back.”

  “I told the doctor he had to come, Mrs. Webber. You and Frankie were very sick!”

  “Thank you, Simon. I guess we were.”

  “You need rest, Mrs. Webber. You’ve worn yourself out caring for two boys and not for yourself.”

  “I care for Frankie.” She smiled weakly. “Jake cares for himself, and for the rest of us, too. He’s a good boy.”

  “He’s a fine young man,” said the doctor.

  “He’s both,” agreed Mother. “I don’t know what I would do without him.”

  “I’m going to leave some concentrated willow tea here with you,” said Dr. Theobold. “Jake, make sure your mother takes two spoonfuls every four or five hours today. If her fever is not gone tomorrow, continue it then. If she gets worse, you or Simon come and get me.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Jake.

  “Mrs. Webber, I want you to take as good care of yourself as you do of Frankie. You need to sleep, and restore your strength. Swallow as much broth as you can, and rest for at least a week. Your body isn’t strong, and if you don’t rest you won’t be able to care for your family.”

  “But Frankie . . .”

  “Jake’s been doing a fine job with his brother,” said Dr. Theobold.

  “I can help too,” said Simon.

  “Yes, you can,” said Dr. Theobold.

  “Doctor, how is our Frankie?” Mother’s voice was still weak, and her eyes kept closing.

  “Frankie’s fever is down. Jake will give him willow tea if he needs it, and he has a potion for his cough. But you know Frankie is not strong, Mrs. Webber. He has already lived far longer than most children born with his afflictions, and this illness has been hard on his body. He will recover, but he’ll be weaker than he was before.”

  Mother closed her eyes for a moment.

  “You’ve done everything you could. And I’ll be happy to visit regularly and help when I can,” said Dr. Theobold.

  “We have no money.”

  “Many of my patients pay with wood for my stove, or vegetables for my table. You’re not to worry about anything now except getting well.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Mrs. Webber, Jake told me people have said you and your husband are the cause of Frankie’s disease. I told him, and I’m telling you, that you have done nothing wrong. Sometimes a child is born who is different. We don’t know why. Perhaps it is not ours to question. It’s our duty to love these poor souls and care for them and give them as much life as is possible. You’ve done tha
t for Frankie, I have no doubt. You mustn’t blame yourself, or let anyone blame you, for the way he is.”

  “That’s kind of you to say.”

  “It’s not just kindness. It’s truth. You’ve been staying here alone, just caring for your boy, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” Mother said softly. “It was best.”

  “It was not best for you. You need to be out, and visiting with neighbors. It will not make Frankie worse to go with you.”

  “But . . .”

  “He may have fits, and some people will not be comfortable with him. But there are understanding people in this town too, Mrs. Webber. Give them a chance.”

  Mother was silent. “Neighbors are a far walk with a heavy child.’

  Dr. Theobold looked at her. “Now you need to rest. But I am inviting your family to join me for Christmas services at the Congregational Church, and then for dinner afterward, at my home.”

  Mother started to shake her head.

  “I am prescribing the occasion as part of your recovery. Besides, I would enjoy the company of a kind and educated woman and her family. My housekeeper is constantly complaining that since my wife died I do little entertaining.”

  “That is kind of you, Dr. Theobold, but—”

  “I will not listen to any arguments. I will come and get you in my sleigh, and you and your family will join me Christmas Day. And should your husband not have returned by then, I can assure you that my housekeeper, Mrs. Seigars, and your sons, will be appropriate chaperones.”

  Jake listened. Christmas in town, with the doctor! A real dinner! And Mother out of the house. “Doctor, could I ask a favor?”

  “He has already done so much, Jake,” Mother said.

  “What is it, Jake?”

  “Could Simon come on Christmas too?”

  “Of course. I’m embarrassed not to have included him in my invitation in the first place. We’ll all celebrate Christmas in good company this year.”

  44

  School was cancelled for the next week so Mr. Holbrook could find a place for his family to live, and the week after that Jake and Simon remained close to the Webber home, caring for Frankie and Mother.

  As Dr. Theobold had predicted, they both gained strength, but slowly. Simon helped with heavier chores, while Jake took on some of Mother’s responsibilities. Simon checked their traps while Jake cared for Frankie; Jake roasted apples while Simon brought in wood. After two weeks they had fallen into a comfortable routine. No one mentioned Simon’s leaving.

  There was still no word from Father.

  By the week before Christmas, Mother insisted it was time for Jake to go back to school.

  “You’ve lost a week of studies already,” said Mother. “No doubt Mr. Holbrook could use your help at the school, and Simon is here to help me.”

  “You still need to rest,” Jake reminded her.

  “I’ll do the work,” Simon said. “Mrs. Webber can tell me what to do.”

  So much had changed in the last two weeks. Jake no longer had a job, since the jail had burned, and he would need to find another one as soon as Mother could be left for longer periods. He had also missed school. He wanted to know how Nabby and her family were, and whether the Holbrooks were settling in to living in town.

  Since coming home for nooning in this weather would be impossible, Jake packed a dinner, put on his heaviest clothes, and trudged down the road toward the schoolhouse. It had snowed almost every day so far in December. Deep drifted snow covered the road he had run twice a day earlier in the fall. Only sleighs were getting through easily, and there were few of those so far in the county. Most folks were hunkered down for winter. This far from town some tried to get to church Sundays, but most stayed home.

  Jake passed where the Lincoln County Jail had stood. Piles of granite slabs and blocks that had been walls and floors were all that was left. They looked like small irregular mountains under the snow. Nabby had not exaggerated when she’d said Maine snows were deep. No snow in Boston was like this.

  Someone, most likely Mr. Holbrook, had dug a path from the door of the schoolhouse to the road. The sides of the path were taller than most of the students. In a Maine winter, drifts over seven or eight feet were not unusual. In some villages people tunneled through the snow from house to house, rather than attempting to dig the houses out.

  Lessons had not yet begun for the morning. Mr. Holbrook was adding wood to the stove, and about a dozen of the older students clustered nearby, hoping to warm themselves a little. All wore heavy coats and clothing, and one girl had pulled a blanket over her head. Even with warmth from the stove there was heavy frost on the inside of the windows, and when anyone spoke, their breath was visible. No one could practice penmanship today; everyone was wearing mittens or gloves, and the ink was frozen in the inkstands.

  Nabby was talking to a girl with curly red hair, whom Jake didn’t know. Tom and Jon were there, and Ed was handing his father another log for the fire. They all stopped talking when Jake entered.

  Mr. Holbrook closed the stove door. “Jake! Welcome back. We’ve missed you.”

  Jake crossed his fingers inside his red mittens. “Thank you. My mother and brother were ill. Simon and I have been taking care of them.”

  “You have a brother?” Nabby asked, stepping toward him. “I knew your mother might be ill, but you never mentioned a brother!”

  Nabby must have thought the “friend” who had fits was his mother, since he’d never mentioned anyone else being at home. Before Jake had a chance to answer, Tom spoke.

  “What’s Simon doing with you? He’s a simpleton, a fool, and a thief as well! How can you trust him with sick folks?”

  “Simon helped Jake get the prisoners out of the jail,” Mr. Holbrook reminded them all. “And he’s a hard worker.”

  “Sometimes Simon helps me care for Violet and Zeke,” agreed Nabby.

  “None of us can do everything.” Jake looked at Tom. “Some people, like you, can run fast. Some people, like Nabby, care for people. Granny McPherson and Dr. Theobold both have ways of healing folks. My father understands accounting and banking; my cousin Ben is strong and knows lumbering, and working in a mill. Mr. Holbrook managed the jail, and took care of the prisoners there, as well as teaching us.” He took a deep breath, and looked at Nabby. “My brother Frankie is six years old, and he can’t walk or talk, but he’s taught my family patience and caring. Since he and my mother have been sick, Simon’s been helping me tend to his needs, and I trust Simon to help my mother and brother when I’m not there.”

  Tom rolled his eyes as though he thought Jake were crazy, but the room was silent.

  “Jake, we’re glad you’re back. My wife and I thank you every day for what you and Simon did for our family and the prisoners on the day of the fire. I hope your mother and brother are well soon.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad to be back at school too.”

  “We have only one week before Christmas,” said Mr. Holbrook. “Everyone sit down and we’ll see how many lessons we can cover today before the cold gets too deep for us to continue. Take your usual seats— boys on the left of the stove; girls on the right.”

  Jake slid onto the bench where he usually sat, and took out his slate and book.

  He’d told everyone at school about Frankie. He hoped it hadn’t been a mistake.

  45

  “Nabby! Wait for me!” She’d started for home before he’d had a chance to talk with her.

  Nabby turned and smiled at his clumsy attempts to run through the snow.

  “I’m sorry I paid so much attention to Tom that day. Tom and I don’t have much in common but running, but I was excited about his idea of a club. Where are Violet and Zeke?”

  “Pa came home for a few days, and he’s with them.” Nabby smiled. “The snow’s pretty deep for them to walk through, and I thought it might be good if he cared for them one day, to see what I do most times.”

  “I suspect he’ll be tired when you get home.” />
  “He will,” she agreed. “Why didn’t you tell me about your brother? He’s the one who has fits, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. My family thought we should keep Frankie a secret; that people would reject us because he is different. But most people here accept Simon for who he is. And Dr. Theobold told Mother and me that no one is to blame for the way Frankie is. Some children are just born like that.” They walked slowly through the snow. Nabby’s long skirts and Jake’s trousers were wet and heavy.

  “Family secrets are hard to keep,” said Nabby.

  “Yes. Dr. Theobold invited my family and Simon to attend church services with him on Christmas, and then have dinner at his home. People in town will see Frankie then, so there will be no more secrets. I thought I would start telling people now. Perhaps they won’t stare as much if they know how Frankie is before they see him.”

  “How will you get to Wiscasset on Christmas, with all this snow?”

  “Dr. Theobold is going to come for us in his sleigh.”

  “You’re lucky. I haven’t been to Christmas services in many years,” said Nabby a bit wistfully.

  “Maybe you can go this year,” said Jake.

  Nabby shook her head. “It’s too far for Violet and Zeke to walk. And Pa will be at sea again by then.”

  “Nabby, your mother is sick, isn’t she?” Jake had decided this wasn’t a day for secrets.

  Nabby kept walking for a few minutes; then she stopped. “Too many in town know about my family already, and you should know too. You’ll hear from others soon enough if you talk with people in Wiscasset.” She pressed her lips tightly together, as though trying to keep the words from escaping. “But it is shameful to tell. Ma’s sick because she drinks too much. Mostly cider, but spirits, too, if she gets the chance. Not like many people do, a glass or two a day. But all the time. After Violet and Zeke were born, and Pa was at sea most of the time, it got worse. She’d forget to do the cooking, and she’d sleep so deeply she couldn’t hear the babies crying. I took care of them, and got us food to eat. Now she does nothing but stay in bed. She cries more than she eats, and she sleeps more than she cries.”