by Ann Shorey
Holding the triangle of bread toward her sister’s mouth, Maria said, “We will, I promise.”
Ellie resumed her seat and bit into her own piece of honey-soaked bread. Its heavy sweetness filled her mouth and trickled down her throat. Sighing with satisfaction, she swallowed and took another quick bite. “What were you saying about James?” She pitched her voice low so the girls wouldn’t overhear.
“He wants to enlist in the militia and go fight against Mexico.” Molly’s expressive green eyes clouded with worry as she spoke.
Ellie dropped her unfinished slice onto her plate. “You can’t let him. He’s too young.”
“He’s sixteen. He thinks he’s old enough.” A tear formed in the corner of Molly’s eye and slipped down her cheek. “Karl thinks if we wait, he’ll forget about it, but I don’t believe he will. You know how stubborn James is when he’s fixed on an idea.”
Ellie nodded, remembering James’s accident several years earlier and his subsequent determination to overcome the loss of sight in his left eye. “But Mexico? I thought that was all settled. Matthew hasn’t said anything about a war.”
“James saw an article in last week’s Illinois Monitor. President Polk says it’s the United States’ destiny to enlarge her borders.” Molly shook her head. “Men and their wars!” She swiped at her tears with a corner of her apron. “According to the story, the Mexicans haven’t stopped fighting us down in Texas, despite its becoming a state last year. The President thinks we should send them packing once and for all.”
Texas. Ellie opened her mouth to tell Molly about the letter from Grandpa Long, then closed it. She’d wait for a better time.
Molly drew her mug toward her with quivering hands and stared into its depths. “After enduring all the months when Franklin was missing, I can’t face the thought of losing James. It’s too much to bear.” She cupped her hands over her mouth and rocked back and forth, shoulders hunched.
Ellie reached for Molly’s wrist. “Let’s pray—”
Loud giggles interrupted her. She swung her head toward the girls.
“Mama, look at Julia! She’s got her hands stuck together.” Maria pointed at her baby sister, then collapsed into a fit of laughter.
Julia struggled to pull her clasped hands apart. Her face was coated with a layer of honey. Tendrils of hair had plastered themselves to her cheeks. Ellie ran around the table but stopped short of lifting the sticky child from the girls’ laps.
She glared at Maria, hands on hips. “Whatever did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. We were feeding Julia spoonfuls, and she just reached into the dish and scooped up some of the comb.” On closer inspection, Ellie detected flakes of beeswax embedded in Julia’s curls.
Molly joined her, eyes still shiny with tears. “Quite a mess. Lily, you’re as much to blame as Maria. You’re both supposed to be watching her.”
Ellie leveled her index finger at Maria. “You and Lily get a basin and warm some water. Now. You’re going to spend the rest of your visit washing Julia and getting all that honey out of her hair.”
The following Saturday, Ellie worked at her baking with an anxious ear tuned toward the upstairs bedroom. Over the past few days Julia’s appetite had disappeared. This morning Ellie noticed that when Julia lay on her back her legs flopped apart like a frog’s. Nothing she tried had helped—not even her never-fail spring tonic laced with honey.
She shoved the last loaves of bread into the oven and hastened up to the bedroom. When she peeked into the crib, Julia’s heavy-lidded blue eyes stared up at her. Ellie fought to keep rising panic at bay. She felt the baby’s forehead. No fever.
Ellie lifted her from the crib, supporting the child’s blonde head with her left hand as she would for a newborn. Julia drooped in her arms like a heavy rag doll. She sat in the rocking chair and untied her bodice for the baby to nurse. Julia hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and Ellie’s engorged breasts ached. Julia mouthed at the nipple, then rolled her head to one side.
Cold prickles coursed over Ellie’s body. She tugged her bodice closed. Cradling Julia, she ran down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Maria. Run get Papa.” She pointed toward the barn. “He’s out there. Tell him Julia’s worse. He needs to fetch Dr. Karl right away.”
Maria dashed out the back door, leaving it standing open. A cloud of smoke issued from around the firebox on the stove. Ellie kicked the door shut with one foot and paced the room while she waited for Matthew.
“Please, oh please, God, make her well,” she murmured as she walked between stove and table.
Julia whimpered, her usual alert expression muted. She looked half asleep.
Ellie stopped pacing when Matthew pounded into the room. His eyes locked on Julia. “How is she?”
Shaking her head, Ellie blinked back stinging tears. “She’s weaker than she was this morning. We need Karl to come out.”
Matthew put an arm around Ellie and the baby and pulled them close. “I’ll be back quick as I can.” His beard scraped her face when he kissed her temple.
“Hurry!” Ellie knew it would take almost an hour to ride the two miles to town, fetch the doctor, and return. “Please, God, let Karl be in his office.” Her stomach clenched as she fought fear-induced nausea.
She slumped in the kitchen rocker. “Mama’s here,” she whispered against Julia’s silky hair. “Uncle Karl’s coming to take care of you.” Her foot tapped against the floor as the chair rocked back and forth. “You’re going to be right as rain in no time.” After she ran out of words, she hummed a lullaby.
Maria busied herself around the room, taking baked bread from the oven and sweeping spilled flour off the floor. Between chores she paused beside Ellie’s chair and dropped kisses on Julia.
Ellie’s eyes rested on her older daughter. “You’re my good right hand. Thank you for helping.”
Maria’s blue eyes shone at the compliment. She ducked her head. “You’re welcome, Mama.” After a pause she said, “Julia’s not going to die, is she?”
“No! Don’t even think it.”
The words had no sooner left her mouth when they heard a hesitant tap at the door. Maria opened it to find Aunt Ruby on the threshold.
Ellie gasped. The sight of her aunt broke the dam that had been holding her tears at bay. “I’m so glad to see you,” she choked between sobs.
Aunt Ruby tossed her shawl over a peg near the door and bustled to the rocker. “Matthew stopped by and told us about Julia. Arthur’s tying the horse to the hitching rail. He’ll be right in.”
She bent over the chair and kissed Ellie’s cheek. Her arms reached out to take the baby, but in an unthinking reflex Ellie pulled Julia closer to her chest.
“No.”
A shadow of hurt darkened her aunt’s face. “I won’t harm her. Surely you know that.”
Ellie brushed at her tears and gazed down at the baby in her arms. Even the commotion of having someone new come into the room failed to attract Julia’s interest. Her head lolled against her mother’s shoulder.
Ellie spoke in a ragged whisper. “I can’t let her go.”
After an impulsive stop at the Newberrys’, Matthew urged his horse to a gallop. He hadn’t planned to detour to their house, but when he approached their lane he felt impelled to ask Ruby’s help. The question in Ellie’s eyes when he left spoke more clearly than words.
Now he slapped at his horse’s side, trying to get more speed out of an animal that was already running full out. Christ’s words on the cross filled his mind. My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
“I’ve served you faithfully since I was eighteen years old.” Matthew bargained over the thumping of hooves. “Please. Don’t take this child from us.” Sky the color of sharpened iron closed over his head. If there was comfort from heaven, he didn’t feel it.
When he reached town he turned his horse right on Adams Street and reined to a stop in front of Spengler’s house. A quick glance at Karl’s horse standing in t
he stable told him the doctor was probably there, and not out on a call. Matthew sprinted around the corner of the house and burst into Karl’s office.
Startled, Karl turned away from a microscope poised over a rectangular slip of thin glass. “Matt. Take a look at—” He stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Julia. She’s taken a bad turn. Can you come?”
He pushed his chair away from the low table at which he had been working. “Of course.” He opened the door leading to the living quarters and hollered down the hall. “Molly. I’m off to Matthew’s. Baby’s sick.”
She hurried down the hallway, concern in her eyes. “Oh no. What is it?”
“We don’t know.” Matthew crushed his hat brim in his hands.
“Shall I come with you?”
“Best stay with the children,” Karl answered. “I’ll come get you if it’s needful.”
He seized his brown leather satchel and followed Matthew into the chill April afternoon.
When the two men stopped their horses in the Craig farmyard, Matthew noted with thankfulness the presence of Arthur New-berry’s horse and buggy tied behind the house. He hadn’t been altogether sure whether Ruby would be willing to mend the rift between them and make the trip to see her niece.
Karl dismounted and followed Matthew through the back door.
Ellie raised her head, desperation in her eyes. “Thank God you’re here.” She held Julia toward Karl, still supporting the child’s head.
Matthew saw that nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone. Their baby drooped in her mother’s grasp, her blonde brilliance dulled.
Karl crossed the room and took Julia in his arms. “Someone bring a cloth for the table. I want to examine her here where the light’s good.”
Ruby ran upstairs and returned carrying a dark blue coverlet, which she flipped over the tabletop. She looked at the doctor. “Anything else?”
“Not now.” He laid Julia on her back, pulling her nightgown up to her chin. The child’s legs flopped open. “How long has she been sick?” he asked Ellie.
“It started a couple of days ago with her not wanting to eat. Then I noticed that she wasn’t . . . uh, needing her diaper changed.” Ellie put out a shaky hand and stroked the blonde wisps that fell across Julia’s forehead.
Karl raised the baby’s knee and then let go of it. As soon as he moved his hand away, her leg dropped back into its sprawled position. “What about this?”
“Just since this morning.” Ellie’s voice quavered.
Matthew moved closer and put an arm around her. Arthur and Ruby stood behind him, Ruby’s hands resting on Maria’s shoulders. As one, they searched the doctor’s face for a sign of good news.
Karl ran his hands over Julia’s body, lifting each arm in turn. He tested her vision by moving his finger in front of her face. Placing his ear against her chest, he listened to her heartbeat. Finally he pushed one of his knuckles gently into her mouth.
“Why are you doing that?” Matthew asked.
“To see if she’ll suck it.” He shook his head. “She didn’t.”
He drew Julia’s gown back over her feet. “She didn’t get into anything outdoors, did she? Maybe putting leaves in her mouth?”
Ellie looked offended. “Of course not. I watch her very carefully. You know that.”
Matthew studied his wife’s face. She looked more pale than Julia. Her blue eyes were reddened with fatigue.
He knew he’d have to be the one to ask the question. “Well, Doc?”
“Could be brain fever—I don’t know.”
“Is she going to get better?”
“I don’t know that, either.” Karl scrubbed his fingers across his face. “I’m sorry.”
After Karl left, Ellie carried Julia upstairs to the bedroom and sat with her in the low chair next to the fireplace. Laying her head against the baby’s soft curls, she rocked and hummed. Julia’s eyes drooped shut. Her body relaxed.
The door creaked on its hinges. Ellie glanced up and saw Aunt Ruby hesitating on the threshold.
Ellie lifted a finger to her lips and whispered, “She’s sleeping.”
“That’s good.” Aunt Ruby kept her voice low. “Doc said rest would be the best thing to bring her around.” She tiptoed into the room and perched on the edge of the bed. “What can I do to help? Do you want me to sit with her?”
Ellie shook her head. With the baby’s eyes closed, and her body tight against Ellie’s, she didn’t look sick at all. But as soon as she was placed in the crib, the illusion disappeared. Julia’s head rolled to one side, her limbs splayed as though she had no bones.
Fear rose in Ellie’s throat like bile. She turned toward the door, motioning Aunt Ruby to follow.
When they were in the hallway, Aunt Ruby opened her arms and Ellie pressed into her embrace, clinging to her the way she had as a little girl. “I’m so frightened. I just can’t lose Julia.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, child. You know how quick young’uns come back from sickness.”
Ellie backed up a step. “I know how quick they succumb too.” Memories of her three precious babies filled her mind—tiny, pale bodies laid in small coffins. So quiet, so cold.
Aunt Ruby nodded, sympathy written across her face. “Yes, dear, I know you do.” She took both of Ellie’s hands in hers. “But for your sake, you need to trust that she’s going to be perfectly restored.”
Seeing her aunt’s reassuring expression, Ellie allowed herself to feel a sliver of hope. Aunt Ruby’s pragmatism annoyed her at times. Now she saw it as full of promise.
“I’ll go down and cook supper. You stay here if that’s what you want. I’ll fix you a tray.” Briskly, with a “that’s settled” air, Aunt Ruby trotted down the stairs into the kitchen.
Before Ellie closed the bedroom door, she heard a clamor of voices as the boys returned from woodcutting. It sounded like they were each talking at once, asking about Julia.
“She’s sleeping nicely,” Aunt Ruby said, her voice clipped. “If you boys will keep quiet, she’ll be able to continue.”
Ellie shut the door on her family and took up her vigil beside the crib.
7
Ellie stood close to the open grave, her aunt and uncle on one side and her husband on the other. Their four children clung together next to Matthew. She heard them sniffle while Mr. Wolcott read a brief funeral message from a thick Bible held in his right hand. Matthew’s body shook with silent sobs, but Ellie hadn’t been able to cry since the night Julia died.
“‘Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God,’” Mr. Wolcott read. He turned toward Matthew and Ellie. “Julia has been spared all the pain that goes with life on this earth. She’s safe in the arms of Jesus.”
His words buzzed in her ears like so many bees. She couldn’t follow the service. Her only thought was to get home and crawl into bed, away from the reach of the well-meaning townspeople who surrounded them.
Mr. Wolcott handed her a small spade, a gesture signifying the close of the service. Ellie pushed the spade into the pile of earth in front of her, quivering both with emotion and lack of food. She flung a shovelful onto the white wooden coffin resting at the bottom of the grave. The damp soil landed with a hollow thunk.
She turned to hand the tool to Matthew and couldn’t find him. A blanket of gray obscured everything around her. The hole in the earth disappeared, and she felt herself float away to someplace warm and quiet.
When Ellie opened her eyes, she lay on the front seat of their wagon. Matthew’s worried face stared down at her. “The sun shouldn’t be shining today,” she said. “Funerals are meant to be dark.”
He turned his head, speaking to someone out of her range of vision. “She’s awake.”
Behind him, Aunt Ruby’s voice responded. “Glory be.” The wagon jiggled as she climbed up beside her niece. “You like to scared us half to death, child.”
Ellie pushed herself up on one elbow
. Her children were clustered on the rear seat.
“Mama?” Maria leaned forward. “Are you all right now?”
She reached up and touched her daughter’s cheek. “Yes, I think so. I don’t know what happened.”
Aunt Ruby hovered next to her. “You caused quite a stir. You’ve been out for some time.”
“I have?” It felt like mere seconds had passed since she held the shovel at the burial site.
“At least five minutes.”
Ellie noticed a knot of townspeople lingering nearby. Matthew’s fists clenched when Mr. Beldon detached himself from the group and walked to the wagon.
“Reverend Craig. I wonder if I may be of assistance.” He gestured toward the edge of the cemetery, where a plum-colored phaeton waited in the dappled shade of a hickory tree. “Mrs. Beldon and I would be pleased to carry your wife home in our conveyance. It’s far more comfortably appointed than your wagon.” The links on his golden watch chain shot sparks of light across Matthew’s face. “At such a time, I’m sure her well-being is foremost in your mind.”
Ellie listened to him, dazed. Why would a stranger intrude on a family matter? She glanced in the direction of Beldon’s carriage. The phaeton’s folding cover had been raised, hiding his wife from view.
Matthew cocked his head toward the man. “Thank you for your kind offer. Mrs. Craig is fine right where she is.” His voice sounded as cold as the gravestones surrounding them.
Mr. Beldon nodded. “As you wish.” He lifted his hat toward Ellie. “Please accept my condolences.” He strode toward his carriage, not pausing to speak to any of the few families still gathered in the cemetery.
“It was nice of him to offer,” Aunt Ruby said.
Shooting her an annoyed look, Matthew untied Samson and guided their wagon toward home.
Ellie sat up in bed and gazed around the room. Afternoon sunshine fought its way through closed curtains, highlighting the rocking chair resting next to the empty crib. Head aching, she stood and walked to the west-facing window, noting the path her gown left in the dust where it brushed the wooden floor. Below her, several pairs of boys’ pants flapped on the clothesline. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Laundry on the line meant it was probably Monday. What had happened to Saturday and Sunday?