A Season of the Heart

by Dorothy Clark

The wreath they’d made hung on the door, the festive red bow mocking the fear that filled her. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Help me, Lord. Please help me. She forced a breath into her constricted chest, opened her eyes and knocked. Please, Lord. Please—

  The door opened and Joshua stood staring up at her, Sally standing beside him. It was Willa. Panic surged. She closed her eyes, tried to breathe.

  “Ellen! What are you doing here? I mean—come in.”

  She opened her eyes and stared at Willa standing at the base of the stairs with a bowl in her hand. Tears filmed her eyes. “I saw the doctor’s buggy and I thought— I thought you—” Her voice broke.

  “Oh, Ellen...” Willa set the bowl on a table and hurried to her, pulled her inside and into a fierce hug. “I’m sorry you were so frightened. I’m fine. We’re all fine. Truly. See?”

  She blinked her eyes, glanced from Willa to Joshua and Sally, who were headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. “But Dr. Palmer—”

  Willa’s face sobered. “It’s Daniel, Ellen. He’s ill, and his mother is in Syracuse, so Dr. Palmer brought him here to me. He and Matthew are upstairs with him now, getting him settled in.”

  “Daniel?” His name came out a disbelieving breath. She shook her head. “Daniel is never sick.”

  “I know. But he jumped into a creek to save another logger from drowning, and he’s taken a very bad cold. Dr. Palmer is afraid it will turn into pneumonia.”

  “Pneumonia?” Something hard and unforgiving wrapped itself around her throat and chest in tight bands. Willa’s hands closed on her shoulders, gave her a little shake.

  “Are you all right, Ellen?”

  She nodded, tried to hold at bay all the dire thoughts rushing into her head.

  “Ellen, look at me.”

  She opened her eyes, gazed into Willa’s blue-green ones.

  “I’m sorry to have to rush, but I need to take this hot broth upstairs. Dr. Palmer wants Daniel to have something to warm him after the cold ride in from camp. You go home and I will keep you informed on Daniel’s condition.” Willa turned and picked up the bowl.

  “No.” She could hardly get the word past the fear squeezing her throat. She yanked the ties and pulled off her bonnet, hung it on a peg with her muff before she could change her mind.

  Willa gaped. “What do you mean, no? What are you doing?”

  “I mean I’m not going home.” She removed her cloak, hung it on the peg with her muff and bonnet. “You have a husband, two children and a new baby. What will they do if you take ill?” She reached out and took the bowl from Willa. “I will take care of Daniel. You need to stay out of his room lest you take his cold.”

  “Ellen!” Willa stared, shock written all over her face. She narrowed her eyes and peered closely at her. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes.” The odd thing was, now that she’d made the declaration, she truly was certain it was what she wanted to do. But that didn’t take away the fear. “You take care of your family. I will take care of Daniel.” She lifted her hems with her free hand and started up the stairs, her shaking making the soup quiver in the bowl.

  “Ellen, wait!” Willa rushed up the stairs, reached in her pocket and pulled out a small piece of folded cheesecloth. “There are pieces of gingerroot in here. Chew on them while you tend Daniel. It will help to keep you from taking the cold.” Willa tucked the small packet into her hand holding her skirt and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for what you are doing, Ellen. Turn right at the top of the stairs. Daniel is in the bedroom on the left of the hall.”

  There was the warmth of old friendship, gratitude and a new look of respect in Willa’s eyes. It fueled her determination. She nodded, finished climbing the stairs and walked down the hall.

  * * *

  The knock drew his gaze. Daniel watched Matthew walk to the door and pull it open. He dreaded facing Willa. She’d—

  “Why, Ellen!” Matthew took a step back.

  He caught a glimpse of blond curls above a pale face. “Ellen?” Shock brought her name bursting from his mouth. A cough took him. He hunched forward, unable to quell the spasm.

  “Well, young lady, I’m surprised to see you here.” Dr. Palmer turned to face the doorway. “Where’s Willa?”

  That’s what he wanted to know. He tried to stop coughing in order to hear Ellen’s answer to the question. His heart all but stopped when she stepped into the bedroom, her long skirts whispering against the floor.

  “Willa is downstairs, Doctor. I’ve brought the broth. I am going to care for Daniel.”

  What? He was so startled he stopped coughing. “No!”

  She lifted her chin, looked at him. “I’ve never known you to be selfish, Daniel. Willa has a family to care for. It would not do for her to take your cold and become ill.”

  She’d left him no argument. He stared at her, noted the slight quiver at the corner of her lips. She might fool the others, but he knew she was afraid. He nodded. “N-nor y-you.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, angered by how much effort it took. Chills coursed up and down his spine at the movement. He looked at Matthew. “Take me h-home.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I can’t do that, Daniel. There’s no one to care for you there.” He turned toward Ellen. “Thank you for your offer to care for Daniel in Willa’s stead, Ellen. It’s most generous and kind of you. I will, of course, be here to help Daniel with his personal needs.”

  “That’s settled then.”

  He glared at the doctor. He might as well not even be in the room! He scowled, wanting to protest, to get up and walk out, but he was too weak. He’d needed Matthew’s help to climb the stairs, and he’d never make it out of the house by himself. And he for sure didn’t want to fall on his face in front of Ellen.

  “All right, Ellen. Here are your instructions.” Dr. Palmer nodded toward the bowl she held. “Get that broth down him while it’s hot. I’ve got Bertha boiling water for him to drink. He’ll need lots of fluids should he get fevered. Get as much water in him as you can. He’s to stay in bed and remain well covered. I don’t want him to get chilled. If his head hurts or he gets fevered, put cold cloths on his forehead. That’s about it. I’ll leave instructions for his meals with Willa. Oh, yes, pneumonia is a chancy thing. I don’t want him left alone.” The doctor picked up his black bag and headed for the door. “I’ll drop by tomorrow to see how he’s doing.”

  “Thank you again for taking over the nursing chores for Willa, Ellen. I’ll come back later and help settle Daniel for the night.” Matthew smiled and followed the doctor from the room.

  Silence.

  He leaned back against the headboard, shivering and aching and wishing he were anywhere but here alone with Ellen. Even in his weak, sick condition the sight of her made his heart pound and his pulse race. He had the irrational wish that it was the sickness causing those things. He set his mind not to cough and cleared his throat. “I know h-how—” he frowned and tried to stop the chills that made his teeth chatter “—frightened you are of b-being around sickness. I’m s-sorry—”

  She stiffened and moved toward the bed. “I don’t want to discuss Walker or my fear, Daniel. I’ve made my decision. Now, you need to eat this broth while it’s hot.”

  He gathered his will and reached for the bowl. His hands shook in spite of his best effort to stop them.

  She shook her head and picked up the spoon, leaned toward him.

  He couldn’t even look away. He opened his mouth and accepted the broth.

  “Well, this is different. It’s always been you taking care of me.”

  His heart jolted when she smiled. Memories swarmed. He stopped worrying about getting pneumonia. Her presence would probably be the end of him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This is utter foolishness! Your father and I for
bid it!”

  Ellen looked up as her mother swept through the bedroom door, then returned to her task. She’d witnessed the look that had flashed between her parents downstairs and had been sure her mother would follow her to try and talk her out of her plans. Still, she had hoped she was wrong. “I’m sorry you and Father disapprove, Mother.” She added her soap and cream to the other items already in her small toiletry box and fastened the latch. “I dislike going against your wishes, but Daniel is ill, and Willa needs my help. I’m going.”

  “Bertha can—”

  “Bertha has her hands full already. And she will be even busier preparing special meals for Daniel.” And Daniel is too ill to be left alone. The fear gripped her anew. She set the small box on her bed, folded her dressing gown and laid it on top of the clothes she’d packed inside of the large bag already there. Her slippers. She grabbed them off the floor, placed them in the bag and snapped the latch shut.

  “Ellen, think of what you are doing. What you are risking! All that you have dreamed of for so long is at stake. What if Mr. Cuthbert arrives while you are at Willa’s caring for another man?”

  “A friend, Mother. Daniel is a friend.” At least, he was until you and Father put a stop to our friendship.

  “He’s still a man, Ellen. Think of your reputation!”

  “My reputation, Mother?” She straightened, looked her mother in the eyes and took a deep breath. “Of all the people in Pinewood, only you and Father will look askance at what I am doing, Mother. And for reasons that have nothing to do with any impropriety on my part. I am going to a home, a parsonage, where I will be well chaperoned by my friend and her reverend husband while I care for another old friend. Everyone in Pinewood will know that, Mother. And they will all heartily approve of my actions, because the people of Pinewood take care of their own.”

  Her mother gasped, narrowed her eyes. “What has come over you, Ellen? You never have spoken to me in such a disrespectful manner.”

  “I’m not being disrespectful, Mother. I’m being honest. Now, if you will excuse me, Reverend Calvert is waiting to escort me back to the parsonage.” She picked up her things and headed for the door.

  “What if you take ill?”

  The quiet words stabbed to the core of her being. She froze, fought back tears that her mother would say such a thing to her when she knew of her terror of sickness. She drew in a breath to quell her trembling and steady her voice. “Then I shall have to get better.” She hurried out the door to the stairs and started down before the fear overwhelmed and imprisoned her.

  “And if Mr. Cuthbert comes while you’re gone?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at her mother standing at the top of the stairs. “Send him to the parsonage, Mother. I’ll receive him there.”

  * * *

  The chills were better, fewer and of shorter duration, as long as he didn’t move. Daniel lay like a stone, his eyes closed, taking short, shallow breaths. He couldn’t feign sleep when Ellen was around, because of the coughing, but he didn’t have to look at her. It was difficult enough knowing she was in the room. The soft swish of her long skirts as she moved around drove him crazy! But he’d be able to relax now that she’d gone home for the night.

  Bumps and thumps mixed with footsteps came from the hallway. He frowned and opened his eyes.

  Ellen entered carrying a large bag and a small box. Willa stepped into the open doorway holding a blanket and pillow. “Where do you want Matthew to put the rocker, Ellen?”

  He jerked to a sitting position, broke into a coughing fit. Chills chased each other up and down his spine, branched off into his arms and legs for fun.

  “A moment, Willa....” Ellen put down the box and bag and rushed to the nightstand, poured water from the pitcher into a glass and held it out to him. “This may help.”

  He waved the water away, strained against the urge to cough again.

  “Don’t be stubborn, Daniel. Ellen is only following Dr. Palmer’s instructions. He said you were to drink as much water as possible.”

  He looked at Willa’s concerned expression and forced his lips into a grin. “Come to b-bully me into behaving, h-have you, Pest?”

  Relief washed over her face. She gave him a cheeky smile. “Someone has to. And Ellen is too much of a lady.”

  He could read the desire to come in and help take care of him in Willa’s eyes. He took the glass from Ellen, being careful not to touch her hand, took a few swallows and handed it back. The cool water increased the chills. He pulled up another smile, aimed it at Willa. “Satisfied?”

  “It will do, for now.”

  He turned the smile into a mock scowl. “I th-thought you were supposed to s-stay away from here.”

  “She’s not coming in.” Ellen hurried to the doorway, came back carrying the blanket and pillow.

  He’d never felt so helpless. Or so trapped. “Th-there’s no n-need for—” Ellen paid him no mind. She dropped the blanket and pillow onto a chair, picked up the box and bag and carried them into the dressing room. He stopped forcing out words and leaned back against the pillow to conserve his strength for a battle he might actually have a chance of winning. He had a feeling there would be more than a few ahead.

  “Put the rocker by the hearth, please, Matthew. I don’t want Ellen to get chilled.”

  “I’ll be fine, Willa. There is plenty of wood for the fire.” Ellen emerged, rubbing cream into her hands.

  Willa turned into the hallway, listened and turned back. “The baby is crying. I have to go. Bertha is preparing your supper, Daniel. Please eat as much as you can. You must keep up your strength. And you as well, Ellen. Let me know if you need anything more.” Willa hurried away.

  “And me.” Matthew stepped to the bed, looked down at him. “Is there anything you need before I go down to my study, Daniel?”

  “No. You’ve d-done more than enough.” The words came out a raspy growl, without much power.

  Matthew clapped him on the shoulder and left the room.

  He gave serious consideration to crawling after him. He would have if not for his pride and the fact that he was garbed in a suit of Matthew’s flannel nightclothes. No, that wouldn’t do. His ego had taken enough of a beating for one day. He took the only other route of escape open to him. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

  * * *

  The quiet pressed in upon her. Ellen wandered about the room, looked at the books on the shelves, ran her fingertip over the chalk figures of a man and woman dressed in Elizabethan clothes.

  How could her mother have said such a thing to her, when she knew she had lived in terror of becoming sick ever since Walker had died when she was four years old? Walker. Her older brother and only sibling. Daniel’s friend.

  She glanced at Daniel, remembering that dark time. He had been devastated by the loss of his closest friend. But still he had tried to make her feel better—less fearful. He was there to comfort her when no one else seemed to understand. He was only nine years old then, but his age hadn’t mattered. Daniel had always understood her. And even now, when he had withdrawn his friendship and looked at her with disdain, he was still kind. He’d been patient with her while she learned to make the decorations. And he’d said she made nice bows. What if—

  Fear clutched at her heart. But it was no longer for herself. Tears stung her eyes. Please heal Daniel, Lord. Please don’t take him from me.

  She moved to the window and stood staring out into the darkness, fighting the fear. It wasn’t as if Daniel were a part of her life anymore, and yet...he was always there in her heart. The residue of her childhood admiration, no doubt, though one would think she would be over that at her age.

  She glanced again toward the bed. A smile grew inside her, buried the fear beneath a surge of memories. His hair, dark in the dim lantern light, was tousled from sleep
, the curls springy and free the way they had been when he was young. She lowered her gaze to his chin and her smile widened. When she had first noticed the hint of a cleft and asked him had he hurt himself, he’d told her that God made man of clay, and that the small indentation was the mark left by God’s finger when God had tested him to see if he was done yet. Laughter bubbled up her throat. For days she had studied people’s faces to see if they had any test marks made by God’s finger on them.

  The laughter turned to an ache, a longing to know again the closeness, the special friendship that had once been hers with Daniel. A coughing spasm took him and the fear pounced. She turned from the window to pour him some water, but he was still asleep.

  A log on the fire burned through, bits of it dropping between the iron bars of the grate to the ashes below and bursting into flames. She started toward the woodbox to get another log and stopped short. “Oh!”

  Joshua and Sally stood in the open doorway, the boy’s brute of a dog at his side, the girl’s cat curled in her arms. She cast a wary look at the dog and moved as close as she dared. “Is there something you wanted?”

  Their heads nodded in unison; their blond curls bobbed. Joshua looked toward the bed. “Mama said we could come see Uncle Daniel if we were real quiet and stayed out here in the hall. She said he has to rest to get better. Like we did.” He spoke softly, earnestly.

  “That’s true.” It was true. The children had recovered when they’d had the measles. Hope rose.

  “I brought Tickles so Uncle Daniel could hold him.” The little girl held out her cat. “It makes me feel better to hold him when I’m sick.”

  “I see. That’s very thoughtful of you, Sally.” She smiled, went a step closer, glanced at the dog and stopped. “But Daniel is asleep right now.”

  The little girl’s face lit up with a sweet smile. “That’s all right. That’s ’cause Jesus is making him better.” Sally pulled her cat back into her arms, tucked her little chin into his fur. “When Mama told us Uncle Daniel has to rest to get better, me and Joshua prayed and asked Jesus to make Uncle Daniel sleep a lot. Didn’t we, Josh?”