“That’s right,” Beth agreed. “I felt so bad after convincing the boys that August would be here when they returned and then he wasn’t. Gerald didn’t even talk for two days, and when he finally opened up, all this hurt came pouring out. He felt betrayed, and I had to explain that I was responsible.”
“But you weren’t,” Mrs. Miller said gently. “God is working in August’s life. You were simply weeding a garden that God planted long ago. If God is striving to bring August back to the fold, you aren’t responsible for anything more than living out God’s goodness and standing on His Word. If that drove August away, then it is still part of God’s plan.”
Beth nodded. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. But—” She paused and lowered her face. “I love him, and I’m so afraid of losing him. What if he won’t ever deal with his problems?”
“If it’s meant to be, it will be,” Mrs. Miller said firmly. “You must stand strong in your faith. God understands your grief and frustration. Trust Him.”
Beth studied the older woman for a moment. Her gray hair had been pinned on top of her head without a single wisp escaping its bounds. It gave Mrs. Miller an extremely well-organized look.
The plump woman was wearing a cream-colored dress with pastel flowers splotching it from neck to knee. She carried an air of respectability and solitude, yet Beth was surprised that Mrs. Miller had never remarried.
“Mrs. Miller, may I ask you something personal?”
The widow nodded. “Certainly. I can probably guess what your question will be. But I have one condition upon which I will insist.”
“And what is that?” Beth questioned.
“You must stop with the Mrs. Miller title and call me Hazel.”
Beth smiled. “I would love to, Hazel.”
“Much better. Now ask your question.”
“I just wondered why you’ve never remarried. After all, you live in an area where women are scarce and the companionship of a wife is highly prized and sought after.”
Hazel laughed. “That’s true enough, and God knows there have been offers. Mostly men who needed a nursemaid or housekeeper though. I guess the right man never came along.”
“How do you bear the loneliness? I mean,” Beth paused trying to think of a tactful way to speak her mind. “I have the boys as well as the roadhouse, and they keep me busy, but you’re down there in town all alone.”
The older woman sobered noticeably. “It does get hard, especially at night or in the winter. I’ve been widowed for over five years, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the winters. They’re so cold, dark, and endless. The first year I would cry every time the sun set.” Her eyes took on a distant look as she remembered those haunting days.
“You don’t have to go on,” Beth said sympathetically. “Unless of course you want to.”
“That’s all right,” Hazel said and continued. “I know you understand. Those first months, I just wandered around trying to figure out what was what. I kept hearing my Zeke calling me, and when I’d realize it was just my imagination, my heart was heavier than ever. At night, I’d wake and reach out for him, but he was gone. When I’d come fully awake it hurt so much that I wished I’d never wake up again.”
“Oh Hazel,” Beth murmured, “I’m so sorry.”
“Sometimes I still find myself waiting for him to come home from working his trap lines, but of course he never does,” Hazel concluded.
Beth nodded. “I know. I think it would have been harder on me, if JB hadn’t already been gone for so long. When he left for duty in the air force, I probably felt his absence worse. When I knew he wasn’t coming back, I comforted myself in God and my children, but I still couldn’t bear living in the house we’d built together.”
“I thought about leaving,” the older woman agreed, “but I wanted to stay for the very reasons that you wanted to leave. I needed to feel Zeke close at hand. I needed to know his presence at least until the pain was less. The house was a strong reminder of our love. Every scratch or nick reminded me of something Zeke and I had gone through. I needed the comfort of memories.”
“The boys are constant reminders for me,” Beth said softly. “And though both bitter and sweet, they have been my lifeline. God was so merciful to give them to me. I don’t know how I could have gotten through those first days without their love. They truly sustained me.”
“Zeke and I wanted to have children,” Hazel said honestly, “but God never blessed us with any. I guess that’s why I take such pleasure in your boys. They are such joys to have around and so well behaved. They are a credit to you, Beth.”
“Thank you for saying so, but teaching them manners has been the easy part. The hard part is playing both mother and father. I feel that my abilities always fall short of what they need, and now the only man they’ve truly known as father is gone. How can I possibly help them understand?”
“Trust God and wait, Beth. Trust God and wait,” Hazel said firmly.
Beth nodded, but her mind was ever on her sons and their broken hearts.
That night, the silence hung heavy between Beth and her boys. Dinner was eaten with little interest, and when Beth suggested a game of dominoes, the boys only gave it a half-hearted effort. When the clock in the hall chimed nine, Beth ushered her sons to their bedroom.
“Momma, when will August come back?” Gerald questioned as he got ready for bed.
“I don’t know, Gerry. He has to work on the road, and that takes him far from us. I don’t know if he’ll be able to come back any time soon.”
“Is he mad at us?” Gerald asked in earnest.
Beth wanted to assure her son that August would never hold malice toward him or Phillip, but the words stuck in her throat. No doubt he was mad at her. He’d been so angry the night he’d left, and Beth was afraid he’d never want to see her again.
“I miss him,” Phillip piped up from his bed.
“I know. We all miss August and want him to come back.” Beth turned and made a pretense of picking up Gerald’s discarded clothes to keep the boys from seeing the tears in her eyes.
“I’m going to ask God to send him back to us,” Gerald said as he knelt to say his prayers. “I love him, and I still want him to be my daddy.”
“I pray, too,” Phillip said, scooting out from under his covers. “I want Daddy.”
Beth opened the door and turned off the bedroom light. The boys’ kneeling figures were illuminated by the shadowy light from the hallway.
She watched in silence as the boys prayed. Their little-boy voices lifted up pleas of love to their God, a God they trusted without doubt. Could Beth somehow do the same? Was it possible to regain the trust she’d once felt when life was more simple?
Seeing the boys safely tucked in, Beth made her way down the hall and to her desk. She’d long ago given August over to God, and there was nothing to be gained by taking him back.
Resting her head in her arms on the desk, Beth prayed for strength to endure the loneliness and for guidance for August. Wherever he was, God could reach him.
Chapter 11
When Saturday came, Bethany awoke to a strange silence. Straining her ears for the sound of her children, she was more than a little surprised to realize they were quiet.
Enjoying the warmth of her bed, Beth reasoned that the children were simply extra tired. They had, after all, spent most of the previous evening helping Mrs. Miller pick berries again.
She was just fading back into dreams of August when something caught her ear. Bolting upright in bed, Beth waited and listened. Moaning sounds came from the boys’ bedroom, and Beth knew instinctively that it was Gerald.
As Beth hastily threw on a robe and tore down the hall, a feeling of dread settled over her. By the time she reached the boys’ room, her hands were trembling.
“Why am I so afraid?” she whispered to the air. “Surely he’s only had a bad dream.” She fought desperately to reassure herself. There was no reason for her uneasiness, yet a mother’s heart
told her something wasn’t right.
She opened the door and found a bleary-eyed Phillip sitting beside his brother’s sleeping form. All looked well, at least on the surface.
“Good morning, sweetie. How’s Momma’s boy?” Beth asked, fluffing her younger son’s hair. Phillip scurried off the bed and into his mother’s arms.
“Gerry’s hot,” Phillip said, planting a kiss on his mother’s cheek.
“I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s go see,” Beth whispered and shifted Phillip from one hip to the other. His legs draped down the side of her body, reminding Beth that he was quickly passing out of babyhood.
“Gerry,” Beth said as she put Phillip on the floor beside the bed and took a seat by her sleeping son. She reached out and brushed back the sandy brown hair that had fallen across Gerald’s forehead.
His skin was hot and dry, a sure sign of fever. “Gerry, wake up, honey.” Beth shook her son gently.
“Mommy,” Gerald moaned and opened fever-glazed eyes. “I hurt, Mommy. My head hurts real bad.”
“You have a fever,” Beth soothed, checking her son for any other symptoms. There weren’t any spots to indicate measles or smallpox, and his body seemed free from any swelling or rashes.
“I’ll get you an aspirin and a cool towel. You just rest, Gerry. Phillip and I will take care of you.” Beth’s calm voice masked the dread in her heart.
Beth carried Phillip from the room, speaking as she made her way to the kitchen. “We’ll get Gerry some medicine and then he’ll feel better.” Phillip nodded as Beth hurried to get the aspirin.
Beth put Phillip down and rummaged through the cupboards until she found a small bottle of aspirins. Putting the medicine in her pocket, Beth then poured a glass of water.
“Me thirsty,” Phillip declared as Beth picked up the glass.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Here, have a drink and then we’ll take a drink for your brother.” Beth waited impatiently as Phillip satisfied his thirst. Then, after refilling the glass, she returned to Gerald’s bed and gently lifted his head to swallow the tablet.
“Ouchy, ouchy, Mommy. It hurts,” Gerald cried, recoiling from her touch.
Phillip had padded down the hall to find his mother bent over Gerald. “He sick, Momma?”
“Yes,” Beth whispered. “Your brother is very sick.”
“The light hurts my head, Mommy. Please turn off the light,” Gerald cried softly.
Beth shook her head. Fever usually caused some pain, but never this much. Something was very wrong. She pulled the heavy curtains across the windows and turned back to face the situation.
“Phillip, I need you to stay here with Gerry while I go get the doctor. Can you do that for me?” she asked the tiny boy.
“I take care of Gerry,” Phillip said as he planted himself firmly beside his brother.
“Good boy,” Beth said. “Now, it’s really important that you stay right here and that you don’t get off the bed. Do you understand?”
“I be good, Mommy,” Phillip said gravely. “I pray for brother.”
“That would be good,” Beth agreed. “I’m going to go change my clothes, and I’ll check in before I go. I’ll be right back.”
Beth hurried around her bedroom, mindlessly choosing her gardening slacks and one of JB’s old shirts. She quickly tied her blond hair back into a ponytail and made her way down the hall to the boys’ room.
A light touch to Gerald’s forehead confirmed her fears. The fever was rising. “Phillip, I have to go now. When I come back, I’ll fix you a special, big-boy breakfast. Would you like that?”
“Can I have applesauce?” Phillip asked, requesting his favorite food.
“You be a good boy, and you can have whatever you like,” Beth replied. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
She hurried down the hall, dreading the desertion of her children. She pulled on socks and boots to wade through the muddy roads of the rain-drenched community, and after one final peek at the boys, she rushed from the roadhouse and ran all the way into town.
Beth marveled at the transformation of her small town. The landscape literally became a sea of tents as the army continued to bring in men and supplies. She picked her way through the mud while soldiers whistled or waved in appreciation of a feminine form. The attention made Beth nervous, but she ignored it. Gerald’s restless form filled her mind.
She breathed a sigh of relief upon finally reaching the doctor’s office. Pushing open the door and mindless of the mud she tracked into the office, Beth made her way to where a nurse sat writing in a ledger.
“I need to see the doctor,” Beth said breathlessly.
“What seems to be your ailment, Miss …?” the nurse fell silent waiting for Beth to fill in her name.
“Mrs. Beth Hogan,” she offered impatiently, “and it’s not for me, it’s my son. He has a high fever.”
“The doctor isn’t here right now, but I can send him over as soon as he returns,” the nurse replied.
Beth’s brow furrowed as she bit her lower lip. “I suppose I’ll have to wait then. Do you have any idea how long it might be?”
“Don’t worry,” the nurse answered sympathetically, “the doctor is setting an arm on the other side of town. He won’t be much longer, and I’ll send him right on to you. Now, why don’t you tell me everything about your son’s illness, and I’ll pass the information to the doctor.”
“He just woke up with a fever. I didn’t bother to take his temperature, but I’m certain it’s already very high, and it’s climbing.”
“Anything else?” the nurse questioned as she jotted the information down.
“He says his head hurts and his eyes are very sensitive to light,” Beth replied and added in a near sob, “He’s only five.”
“Try not to worry, Mrs. Hogan. Tell me where I can send the doctor when he returns.”
“I run the Gantry Roadhouse east of town. Just follow the road, and our place is a quarter mile past the crossroads,” Beth directed in a trembling voice.
“All right, Mrs. Hogan. You go on back home and I’ll do what I can. And, Mrs. Hogan,” the nurse paused, “please try not to worry. Give your son some aspirin and wash him with a cool cloth.”
Beth nodded and made her way back toward home. She’d never run as much as she had this day, and by the time she reached the roadhouse, she was winded and every muscle in her legs ached.
Kicking off her muddy boots and slamming the door behind her, Beth raced to Gerald’s bedside. Phillip sat faithfully beside his older brother, wiping the cloth over his forehead.
“What a good boy you are, Phillip,” Beth said as she reached down and felt Gerald’s brow. He felt as hot as ever, and Beth noticed that he didn’t even stir at her touch.
“Come along, Phillip. I’ll get you dressed and fix you applesauce pancakes.”
“Yummy,” Phillip said as he jumped down from the bed. “I took care of brother,” he stated simply.
“Yes, you certainly did,” Beth replied and helped Phillip off with his nightshirt. She replaced the gown with a shirt and pants and led him to the kitchen.
Beth hastily prepared breakfast between trips to the boys’ bedroom. She alternated swabbing Gerald’s fiery body and flipping pancakes. She had just placed a plate of pancakes and applesauce in front of Phillip when a knock sounded at the door.
“You stay here and eat. I’m certain that will be the doctor, and I’ll have to talk to him about Gerry,” Beth said as she left the room.
The doctor stood at the door, and Beth breathed a sigh of relief as she took his coat and showed him to Gerald’s room.
“My name is Dr. Stevens,” the man said as he began to examine Gerald. “My nurse tells me the boy’s symptoms just started.”
“Yes,” Beth affirmed. “He was fine yesterday, although I do recall he seemed a little tired.”
The doctor forced Gerald to sit, causing the boy to cry out in pain. Beth knelt by his side.
“It’s all right, Gerry. Momma�
��s here.”
“It hurts real bad, Mommy,” Gerald managed between his cries.
“Son, can you bend your neck as if you were going to look down your nightshirt?” the doctor questioned.
Gerald made a valiant effort, but it only caused more pain. “No, no. It hurts,” he whimpered. Tears formed in Beth’s eyes as she watched her child suffer.
“It’s all right, son. I’m a doctor, and I’m going to help you.”
Gerald said nothing as the doctor eased him back on the bed. The boy reached out for his mother, and Beth immediately took hold of his hand. She waited in silence while the doctor finished his examination and took Gerald’s temperature.
“You just rest now, son. I’m going into the hall with your mother so we can figure out how to make you feel better.” The doctor finished putting his instruments into his black bag and motioned Beth to follow him.
Beth knew by the look on the doctor’s face that the news would not be good. She felt her knees weaken as she pulled the bedroom door closed behind them.
“I’m afraid your son has all the signs of spinal meningitis,” Dr. Stevens began. “I can’t be certain without running a number of tests, including a complicated procedure called a spinal tap. I don’t have the facilities in town to help your boy.”
“What is spinal meningitis?” Beth asked anxiously.
“It’s an infection that attacks the membrane surrounding the brain and spine. I’m afraid it’s often fatal.”
“What am I to do?” Beth questioned frantically. “He has to have help. I don’t care what it costs or where we have to go.”
“I know. I know,” the doctor said as he put his arm around Beth. “What we have to do is get your son to a good hospital.”
“But how and where?” Beth asked.
“My suggestion would be Fairbanks. I happen to know there’s a supply plane headed there in two hours. I believe we should have your son on that plane.”
“Then he’ll be there,” Beth said, regaining a bit of her composure. “I’ll get him ready. Just tell me what to do.”
“We’ll need to keep him from getting chilled, so bring his blankets. I’ll get my nurse to accompany you on the trip. She’ll know what to do.”
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