Embers of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  By the time the men had G. W. laid out on the table the way Deborah thought most beneficial, her brother had still not regained consciousness. It wasn’t a good sign. Neither was the shallowness of his breathing. It was entirely possible he’d broken some ribs and punctured his lung.

  The women worked together to cut away G. W.’s trousers. They were hopelessly caked with blood and mud, with numerous jagged tears. Deborah motioned to Rob. He came without hesitation.

  “I don’t know if the doctor will be able to save his leg. He’s got a bad break and he’s lost a lot of blood. The wounds are multiple and severe. You may need to lend support to Lizzie. She needs to be careful in her condition.”

  “You can count on me, Sis. I’ll try to keep watch over her. Is there anything I can do to help G. W.?” His worried gaze never left G. W.’s lifeless body. “I shouldn’ta been so slow gettin’ back. This might not have happened if I’d been there.”

  “Stop it. We don’t have time for such thoughts. It might not only have happened, but it could have involved both of you,” Mother declared.

  Lizzie seemed in a daze as she reached out to touch G. W.’s brow. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered against his ear.

  “He’s not going anywhere, if I have anything to say about it. Mother, is the soap and water ready?”

  “Just about. Sissy said she’d bring it.”

  Deborah nodded. “We need to clean the debris from the wound, but in a way that minimizes the bleeding. We won’t remove the larger pieces. Dr. Clayton will see to that.”

  Sissy arrived with the soap concoction and helped Deborah to pour part of it over the leg. G. W. didn’t stir or even moan, furthering Deborah’s concern. But she was glad he didn’t have to consciously endure the pain.

  “We’re going to need more light. Please bring several lamps so that we can see better.” She hadn’t issued the order to anyone in particular, but Mother and Sissy hurried to get them.

  Deborah bent over her brother’s leg and soaked up some of the dirt and blood with a towel. She then poured additional water over the wound and repeated the process. The flow of blood was stymied by the belt around G. W.’s thigh. The only problem, however, was that cutting off the blood flow for too long would only lead to killing the limb. She toyed with the idea of releasing the belt a bit to allow the blood to circulate through the undamaged vessels. It would also show her whether or not the artery had been severed. If it had, there wasn’t much hope of G. W. keeping his leg.

  When the lamps were in place, Deborah looked at her mother. “I’m going to loosen the belt to see how bad the bleeding is. Hopefully I’ll be able to tell if the artery is pierced. Meanwhile, can you and Sissy strip off his shirt? We need to see what damage was done to his ribs. He’s not breathing well.”

  Everyone went into motion at once. Deborah handled the belt and was relieved when no bright red blood spurted from the wound. Blood oozed from the wounds, but to her surprise it wasn’t all that bad. She tried not to think about the fact that G. W. might very well not have much blood left. She opted instead to get back to cleaning the debris. She would leave the belt loosened so long as the bleeding didn’t increase.

  “Mother,” she said suddenly, having a great idea, “do you still have that magnifying glass of Father’s?”

  “I do.” She nodded and headed off without Deborah saying another word. When she returned, Deborah instructed her to hold it over the wounds so she could see better to clean the lacerations.

  With meticulous care, she began pulling splintered wood and bits of rock and dirt from the wound. She had worked for maybe thirty minutes when Uncle Arjan rushed into the room.

  “Doctor’s here.”

  Deborah straightened. “I’ve been doing what I could to clean out the debris. I’ve left the bigger pieces in place for you, in case they caused the bleeding to increase. He seems to be breathing in a shallow manner.”

  Dr. Clayton nodded and immediately opened his medical bag. Deborah saw that he’d brought a much larger case than he usually carried.

  “You keep picking out the small pieces while I listen to his lungs.”

  Deborah focused back in on her work. She put aside the fact that this was her brother. Such reminders wouldn’t serve her well. If anything, it would only cause her to lose her focus.

  Dr. Clayton listened to G. W.’s breathing for several moments. “Perhaps a small collapse, but air is moving well.” He continued to check G. W. for further wounds. “Arjan told me what happened,” he said to Deborah. “Has he regained consciousness since the fall?”

  “No, not since they brought him here,” she answered.

  They both looked to Rob, who shook his head. He turned to Klem. “What about it?”

  “Ain’t come awake since he fell,” Klem told them. “Not so much as a grunt.”

  Dr. Clayton pulled a large bottle of carbolic acid from his bag. “Hopefully the bleeding helped to clear away some of the fragments.”

  Deborah pointed to the pan of soapy water. “I used that to clean away the dirt and some of the caked blood. It’s Mother’s soft soap and warm water.”

  He nodded while pouring the soapy liquid over the site. Straightening, he then used a liberal amount of the carbolic acid over his scalpel and probes. “Deborah, hold his legs steady, and Arjan, grab his shoulders. I don’t expect him to move, but you can never tell.”

  He noted the belt. “It was good thinking to control the blood flow. I’m going to check the break and situation of the tree piece, and then we’ll get to work on seeing if we can save the leg.” He looked at Deborah and smiled. “Ready to assist me?”

  She nodded. “Just tell me what to do.”

  CHAPTER 30

  G. W.’s recovery was doubtful the first few hours. His fever soared and his unconscious state was broken only by an occasional moan. Further examination revealed several broken ribs and concern that his back may have been damaged in the fall. The discoloration and bruising were of grave concern.

  Deborah remained at G. W.’s side as much as possible as the hours moved into days. Mother and Lizzie were there, as well. The three women took turns cooling G. W.’s feverish body with wet rags. In addition, Deborah helped Dr. Clayton tend to the leg wounds. A makeshift splint was fashioned to hold the bone in place. It was far from ideal, but with the need to watch the wounds for infection, it was the best they could do at the present.

  When G. W. finally showed signs of response, Dr. Clayton started to worry about the degree of injury he’d sustained. “His neurological reactions are slow. However, I’m not overly worried at this point. I think there may be a great deal of swelling along the spinal column, and hopefully that will reduce in time.”

  Deborah knew how serious the situation might be. Her brother could be left paralyzed. She doubted Mother and Lizzie understood the matter’s gravity. Exchanging a look with Dr. Clayton, his expression told her that it was best they kept such thoughts between the two of them. Sometimes knowledge could be the enemy – especially where emotions were concerned. They would know soon enough if G. W. had the ability to move his legs.

  “When do you suppose he’ll awaken?” Mother asked hopefully.

  “I can’t really say. We’ll know more with each passing day. We need to keep hoping and praying. The fever is down, and the leg looks good. I’m not seeing any infection, but he could still have trouble. We’ll just keep watching it closely.”

  “I’ll come again in the morning,” Dr. Clayton said as he gathered his things.

  “Thank you so much for all you’ve done,” Mother told him. She handed him an envelope. “Tuck this away for later. Maybe it will help your family.” He glanced at it for a minute, then put it in his coat pocket. “Deborah,” her mother continued, “why don’t you take Dr. Clayton to the kitchen and get him a plate of food to take home with him?”

  “I will, Mother.” She looked to Dr. Clayton, wondering if this would be to his liking. He smiled and opened the door for her.r />
  Deborah made her way through the house knowing that the good doctor wouldn’t be far behind. She picked up one of the oil lamps from the front room and carried it to the kitchen as they went.

  “Sissy’s gone home for the evening, but she kept a plate warming for you on the stove. If you’d rather just sit down and eat it here, I can get you some hot coffee, as well.”

  He smiled. “Can you sit with me?”

  She felt taken aback for a moment. Nevertheless, she nodded and motioned to the small kitchen table. “I’ve already eaten, but I’ll share your company. Why don’t we just stay in here rather than go into the dining room?”

  “I’d like that.” He took a seat while Deborah gathered a cup and the coffee pot. “This is most likely strong. It’s been sitting there since supper.” She poured a cup and put it in front of him.

  Returning the pot to the stove, Deborah next grabbed the towel-covered plate that Sissy had left for the doctor. She removed the cloth and placed the food in front of Dr. Clayton. “I’ll bring the silver.”

  “This looks delicious,” he commented.

  “It was,” Deborah replied, laughing. “Sissy made the most delicious ham loaf with black grape glaze. I think you’re going to like it.”

  She returned with the silverware and a linen cloth, then took the seat opposite him. “I know you’re worried about G. W.”

  “I am, but it serves your family no good to say so. His unconscious state is a mixed blessing and curse. The longer he remains asleep, the more rest his body will get. If he has broken his back or caused grave injury to the spine, such rest will be best. On the other hand, his unconscious state doesn’t bode well for injury that may have been done to the brain.”

  Deborah nodded. “I wish I could have done more for him.”

  “You helped him a great deal, as did the men at the logging camp. Stopping the blood flow and getting him help as soon as possible were the best things they could have done. You were wise to start cleaning the wound and get him set out on the table. It made a good surgery room.”

  “There is so much I don’t know. So much I wish I did.”

  “So why not learn?”

  She looked at him and shook her head. “Women doctors are hardly tolerated down here. Healers are one thing, and midwives are obviously expected to be women. However, there is little acceptance of women getting an education in any field. Certainly not medicine.”

  His right brow rose. “And this would stop you?”

  “Well, I certainly can’t go traipsing off to the university again. Philadelphia allows for women doctors, but the time away from here would be difficult for my family. Especially now.” She shook her head. “Goodness, but now G. W. is incapacitated and Lizzie is expecting a baby. There are just too many responsibilities.”

  “So why leave? Why not stay here and train with me?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “I . . . uh . . . don’t know what to say.”

  He laughed and reached for a piece of corn bread. “You could say yes. You could even say that the idea fills you with great joy, because the company would be so agreeable.”

  Deborah could hardly draw a breath. She felt an overwhelming rush of emotions. Dr. Clayton became quite serious – all hint of humor fading from his expression. He watched her face intently, leaving Deborah unable to look away.

  “I’m the only one around here who truly knows the potential you display. I’m one of the very few who recognize your intelligence as something special – something valuable. Others tell you how astounded they are with your ability to think, when what they really mean is that you confuse them. I tell you I’m impressed because I am. I can appreciate what you have to give – what you can yet learn.”

  Deborah tucked her hands under the table to keep Dr. Clayton from seeing how they were trembling. The very thought of spending hours each day with him caused her to feel rather dizzy. Was this what love was all about? Had she fallen in love with Dr. Clayton?

  Maybe I’m just infatuated with the idea of becoming a doctor. She frowned. Maybe that’s all it was for him, as well. She knew he had concerns about helping his family, just as she had. Maybe he was actually hoping to train a replacement.

  She opened her mouth to comment when Mother came rushing into the room. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re still here. It’s G. W.” Tears were streaming down her face.

  Deborah jumped to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  Her mother laughed and wiped at her tears. “He’s awake.”

  –––––––

  There was no talk of the missed Christmas dance. Deborah hadn’t truly cared about the event to begin with, and now that G. W. was painfully recovering, she had even less interest. Nothing more was said about her learning to become a doctor under Christopher Clayton’s tutelage. She began to think perhaps his comments had simply been offered to give her something to concentrate on besides her brother’s uncertain future.

  As the holidays approached, the atmosphere in the house lightened and cheered. Mother wasn’t decorating in her usual holiday fashion, but Sissy still worked to bake many of their favorite treats. The delicate aroma of warm yeast breads and fruitcake filled the air, and visitors were on hand daily to sample the fare. Most came to see how G. W. was doing and even to bring an occasional Christmas gift. Lizzie spent her days nursing her husband and quietly making baby clothes. She seemed almost hesitant to discuss G. W.’s condition with Deborah, for fear of somehow calling disaster upon them.

  Mother invited Dr. Clayton to join them for Christmas dinner, but an unexpected baby delivery kept him in Perkinsville. Deborah regretted that he couldn’t join them, but she enjoyed her family nevertheless.

  As the New Year came and went, Deborah found herself growing more and more restless. Everyone was busy with their own interests and duties; Sissy was very nearly managing all of the chores while Mother helped Lizzie to tend to G. W. when needed. Otherwise, Mother was often off visiting Miriam or speaking to Mr. Perkins on behalf of the townsfolk. The acts of violence against the black folks had increased, and Mother felt quite passionate about helping put an end to such things.

  Rains affected production in the logging camp as January progressed. Rob and Arjan were often found in discussion at the kitchen table. Uncle Arjan had hired five men prior to Christmas, and now he was considering arranging for at least two more employees. Added to this, the turpentine company in Beaumont had come to negotiate a deal to harvest resin from the pines prior to their cutting. It was a fascinating turn of events that promised more money for nothing more than allowing their workers to come in and set up their process in forested areas that were not scheduled to be cut for months.

  Deborah tried to keep herself busy with the logging books. She faithfully recorded the information of each new employee and arranged their pay in script and cash as Uncle Arjan dictated. In the back of her mind, however, she continued to think of what Dr. Clayton had said. Could it be possible for her to learn medicine and use it to benefit her community?

  Deciding to check on G. W. and give Lizzie a break, Deborah left her office work and went to the couple’s bedroom. The door was open, and she could see that G. W. had just finished lunch. She smiled and gave him a wave.

  “May I come in and visit?”

  G. W. grunted a reply, but Deborah wasn’t at all sure whether it was in the affirmative or negative. She decided to take it as an invitation, however. Lizzie removed his dinner tray and smiled.

  “His leg is aching something fierce today.”

  “So why are you smiling?”

  Tears came unbidden to Lizzie’s eyes. “He’s able to feel it.”

  Deborah immediately understood. The swelling to his spine was lessening. “I’m not glad he’s hurting, just glad he’s feeling.” She looked at her brother. “You are quite fortunate, you know.”

  “So folks keep tellin’ me.” He sounded less than convinced.

  “Why don’t you go take a rest, Lizzie? You can lie down
in my bedroom. Your old bed is still there. I’ll sit with G. W. for a time.”

  “Yes, go on. I want to sleep anyway, so after I get rid of Deborah I’ll take a bit of a rest myself,” G. W. declared.

  Lizzie hesitated only a moment. “I think I will. I’m sure G. W. will enjoy talking to you. Just come fetch me if he needs somethin’.”

  Deborah laughed. “There you go again, sounding like a Texan. Next thing you know you’ll be drawlin’.”

  They both laughed at this. Deborah took a seat beside her brother’s bed and studied his face for a moment. He was healing on the outside, but he still seemed troubled. Perhaps it was nothing more than his boredom with recuperation.

  “So you seem rather . . . well, unhappy?” Deborah half commented, half asked.

  “You’d be unhappy, too, if you were facing an uncertain future.” His tone was harsh, but Deborah didn’t take offense.

  “Even the doc can’t tell me how long I’ll be laid up or if I’ll ever recover enough to go back to workin’. If I can’t work, how in the world can I support my family? It ain’t like there’s a lot of jobs for cripples.”

  Deborah nodded but refused to pity him. “I suppose you’re right. I can’t see you climbing trees again. Certainly no time soon.”

  “Exactly. I tried to explain that to Uncle Arjan, and he just kept saying, ‘You’ll be back in time.’ ” G. W.’s hard façade seemed to soften just a bit. “We both know that ain’t true, but he can’t bring himself to say it.”