Serendipity

by Cathy Marie Hake

  The sign explained the mess, and perhaps the doctor shared the building. Moaning wind obscured his knock, so Todd opened the door, concerned for his mother’s welfare. He carried Ma in, convinced the door to shut with the sole of his boot, and looked up.

  And up. And around. He couldn’t help himself.

  No one in their right mind would ever imagine anything as ludicrous as the sight before him. Like a magpie’s nest, shiny, sparkling, odd and appealing things filled this habitation. But the ridiculous birds lived only a short while. Whoever had been nesting here must’ve been adding on to the collection for ages.

  Todd’s mouth went dry. Ma’s done for.

  He stood rooted to the floor, stunned by the dizzying array surrounding him. A flash of movement drew his attention. Yanking off her apron, a young woman with coal black hair came into view. She called to someone in the other room, “A caller just let himself in.”

  Several men flooded after her. One growled, “Gotta be a Yankee. Southerners got better manners than sneaking in.”

  “ ’Course it’s a blue belly.” Another snorted. “No Southerner’s dumb enough to go strollin’ out in this weather.”

  Never taking her focus off Todd, the woman tossed her apron onto a spindled chair. “Do you need something, mister?”

  “The doctor. For my mother.” Ma didn’t move or make a sound.

  An old man stepped in front of the young woman. “Stand back, lass. We got no reason to trust this Yankee. Don’t even know yet what he’s toting there.”

  “Women’s boots are sticking out.” Ignoring the order, she approached, pulled back just the corner of the blanket, and gently touched Ma’s face. “Poor soul, she’s chilled to her marrow!”

  Honesty wrenched an admission from Todd. “More, too, is wrong.”

  Startling bright blue eyes studied him. He met her gaze and silently pled for help.

  Two

  Snowflakes plastered the stranger’s hair, so Maggie couldn’t be certain of its color. But blue eyes radiated worry, and the set of his square jaw hinted at a determined nature. A sturdy jacket stretched across wide shoulders that weren’t snow-covered – odd, until he hefted the heavy burden he bore. Ahh. That movement knocked away the last remaining flakes. The coat ended at the hips – a workingman’s jacket. Denim work pants wet clear up past the knees tattled he’d waded through snow for a fair distance. The stranger must be miserable as well as cold, but he’d asked only for help for his mother. Aye, and he’d been mindful to stomp the worst from his boots before coming inside.

  He showed integrity, telling her something more ailed his mama. Several times in the past someone sought her healing skills and left out the important fact that they or their loved one suffered a contagious ailment. Faster than corn popping in her kettle, thoughts burst in her mind and ricocheted around.

  “He put his mama’s needs ahead of all else, and he’s been dead-level honest with me, so I’m gonna help him.”

  Air whooshed from his lungs. “God bless you!”

  His deep voice held more grit and less lilt – yet beneath the grit she detected a cadence unlike the Scots-Irish rhythm that flowed in all the holler’s men’s voices. The difference intrigued her. She’d like to hear him speak more. His accent – could it be German? Or mayhap Dutch?

  “Don’t take ’em in,” Jethro warned. “Betcha what she has is catchy.”

  “Since it’s my home, I’ll decide what’s to be done. My guests are chilled.” Maggie slipped past the stranger and opened the door to her spare room. “Bring your mama on in here.”

  A swift nod acknowledged her invitation, but the stranger had yet to show a hint of a smile.

  Poor man’s worrying himself sick. Hope his mama’s in better shape than he thinks. “We didn’t swap names yet. I’m Maggie Rose. Yonder’s my uncle, Bocephus Carver.”

  “Valmer. Todd Valmer.”

  “Mr. Valmer, you and yours are welcome to my home.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” His hold on the blanketed form tightened, but his voice softened. “Ma, there’s a gal here who’s going to help me tuck you into a nice warm bed.”

  His mother stayed still and silent until he reached the bedside, then made a garbled sound.

  “Knew being in here would perk her up. Everywhere she looks, your mama’s seeing specials and sparkles.” Maggie unlaced her patient’s boots. Mrs. Valmer kept her right arm about her son’s neck, clinging tight and going slack-jawed. “You’re not dreaming, ma’am. You’re surrounded with wondrous, beautiful things.”

  Mr. Valmer cleared his throat. “First thing, Ma, I’ll move that chandelier.”

  Maggie’s hand shot up to touch a prism dangling from the chandelier she’d hung over the bed. “You’re welcome to, but the endeavor is needless. It’s safely chained to a strong beam.”

  “Nonetheless, I will move it.”

  Tugging off both boots and stockings roused the woman, but Maggie ignored her splutters of protest. Given the merest scrap of sympathy, folks ofttimes imagined themselves to be in dire straits. Only this woman was in sad shape. A quick scan of her set Maggie’s mind awhirl – especially when she pulled the rest of the blanket open and Mrs. Valmer’s left arm drooped from her shoulder and dangled like a pendulum. “Go on. Lay her down.”

  Todd felt like a rooster caught midcrank of a killing neck twist. He’d put Ma on the bed and turned loose, only Ma took exception to them parting. She curled her right arm around his neck even tighter and hung on for dear life. Todd reckoned he might survive if he ever got a chance to draw a breath again. “Whoa, now, Ma. You’re fine.”

  Cramming one knee into the mattress and easing her elbow over his head proved difficult but doable. “Easy. Easy g – ” He caught himself, realizing he was talking to her as he would to an unbroken mare. Not that he meant any disrespect. Simply put, she looked as wild as a ready-to-buck-and-bolt mustang. Right hand shooting up, she grabbed for him.

  Thwack! He brained himself on something when he sprang out of her reach. A series of tinkling sounds reminded him what hovered above the bed. “Ma, settle down.”

  From the other side, Miss Rose leaned over Ma. “Ma’am, your boy’s got two big, strong arms, but if you’re in them, he can’t help you much – and neither can I.”

  Still wild-eyed, Ma trembled.

  “Just as surely as God sends angels to protect us, I’m thinking He sent your son for such a time as this, where Mr. Valmer can stand watch and you can rest easy.”

  Panicky features going soft with uncertainty, Ma turned toward him. “I’m right here, Ma. You rest.”

  Miss Rose plucked out Ma’s hairpins with a deft hand. “Pale, but it could be from the cold or fright as much as from illness. We’ll have to check on that in a while again. Took a bump to the head?”

  “Ma swooned.”

  Blotting a damp cloth against Ma’s goose egg, Miss Rose nodded. The lamps someone brought in illuminated her face, and his estimation of her age dropped by a solid five years. His already-shaky confidence in her plummeted.

  “Swoon, then fall; or fall, then swoon?” she asked.

  “Where is the doctor?”

  Black eyebrows pulled together in consternation, Miss Rose countered, “I’m needing you here to answer important questions.”

  “Ask Ma.”

  “I doubt she knows whether she fainted first or last.” Fingers tracing Ma’s features like a blind woman trying to memorize a new face, Miss Rose didn’t bother to draw a breath. “What was she doing immediately before she fell?”

  “Just sitting there, riding the train. Then she keeled over.”

  Voice as calm as a summer day, the gal continued on. “Anything happen to get her dander up or cause an uproar?”

  “Nein.” Uncertainty struck. Had the upheaval in her life triggered this? “She is moving to my farm.”

  Miss Rose flashed him a grin that lit her whole face. “Judging from the way your mama clings to you, I’d wager the arrangement’s fair pl
easing to her.” Her assessment relieved him of that concern. “Is your mama given to any weakness? Any drooping of the eyelids, one side of her smile being lower, her voice being reedy, or her grip feeble?”

  “Nein.”

  “Her laces . . .”

  Todd reared back. Such things were not spoken of. He shook his head once.

  Fingertips bumping down Ma’s ribs, Miss Rose insisted, “Aye, they’re tight.”

  Gritting his teeth, Todd considered the topic both unnecessary and unnerving. Men wore suspenders to keep their britches in place, but women wore corsets to keep themselves in place. Never particularly good with words, he’d embarrass this black-haired beauty and make a fool of himself by discussing such an indecent garment. “This is not a breathing problem. I need to fetch the doctor.”

  An enormous shadow appeared at the foot of the bed. The doctor! Glory hallelujah. He’s – Todd dropped Ma’s hand, turned around, and frustration swamped him.

  The huge man standing there had the guileless eyes and smile of a child. “Maggie, we’re waitin’ supper. I wan ’nother cookie.”

  “One and only one.” She held up her forefinger. “Jerlund, I’ve a lady visitor in this room. You must ask permission before coming in here from now on.”

  “Does she wanna have milk and a cookie, too?”

  “Mayhap later.” Miss Rose waited until the boy left, then addressed Todd as if they’d not been interrupted whatsoever. “Do her kin have heart problems or sinking spells or apoplexy amongst them?”

  “Heart.”

  The odd woman’s startlingly blue eyes narrowed. “And the other problems?”

  “Nein. Otherwise, I would have said.” As soon as he added the harsh words, Todd regretted them. The gal was doing her best, but that still wasn’t near enough. Ma looked mighty bad. “Where’s the doctor?”

  “Nearest one is miles and miles away.”

  Terror shot through him. “On the train, they said there was a doctor here!”

  Miss Rose kept right on checking Ma. “They told you wrong.

  I – ”

  “How far to the doctor?” he interrupted.

  “Next train stop, there’s a boneheaded man who declares himself to be a doctor. His brain and heart are as empty as his ridiculous top hat. Seven miles beyond that, there’s another stop. Doc Wyant’s there. He’s capable of diagnosing and treating folks so long as he hasn’t been sampling his corn likker. A few hits of Oh Be Joyful, and he’s safe as a rabid wolf.” Empathy radiated from her. “Wish things were different.”

  Staring at Ma’s pasty coloring, he rasped, “What can be done?”

  “Pray. That’s the most important. I’m the healer for folks hereabouts, and I’ll do my best for your mama.” Stroking Ma’s shoulder with compassion, Miss Rose slowly used overlapping movements and petted her way down Ma’s arm.

  But compassion didn’t make anyone a healer. Knowledge and experience did. Her questions hinted at a scrap of knowledge, but her youth and isolation robbed her of any claim to experience. Somewhere, someone had to be able to do better by Ma. He reached to bundle up Ma, but Miss Rose was doing what Doc did back home – pressing the wrist to check on Ma’s heartbeat. How did an Arkansas mountain girl know that trick?

  “Your ma feels a tad unsettled. Won’t you please sit by her and hold her hand?”

  Phrased as a question, her order allowed him to save face. But Todd refused to yield control. “For now.” He leaned over and cupped his hand around his mother’s.

  “Awww.” A smile lifted the corners of Miss Rose’s mouth. “Sure is sweet how your mama’s fingers curl ’round your big old hand.” Her skirts whispered as she moved. “Mrs. Valmer? Mrs. Valmer?”

  “Mrs. Crewel. Her name – it is Mrs. Crewel.”

  The ivory comb in her inky hair glinted as the woman nodded. “Please, Mrs. Crewel, raise this foot.” She tapped Ma’s right foot.

  Ma’s toes curled, and she drew her foot beneath her hem.

  A quirk of a brow, and the woman tapped Ma’s left foot. “This leg now, too.”

  Leg? Did Ma shiver like that because she was scandalized by such brassy language? Afraid? Cold? Whatever the reason, she didn’t comply. Todd squeezed her hand. Perhaps if he spoke in German. . . . “Bitte, Ma, verschiebst du deine linken Fuß.”

  Nothing.

  “Very well. Mr. Valmer, turn her toward you. I’ll see to releasing her fastenings.”

  Straightening up and folding his arms across his chest, he stared at the young woman. Not one thing about this whole situation was right. “Get another lady to help you. I’ll fetch the doctor.”

  “Another woman’s not to be found for a good ten miles.”

  If she exaggerated about that, she could have embellished the physician’s shortcomings. Desperate, Todd rasped, “I’ll help with her, then go.”

  He put his hands where Miss Rose directed, pulled Ma toward him, and slammed his eyes shut. With the layers of clothes, it took an eternity for Miss Rose to undo everything. The sound of laces being pulled through grommets ended with both women inhaling deeply.

  Blankets all drawn up snug to her chin, Ma finally looked better.

  Not that she looked good. But not as bad. Miss Rose pulled him from the bedchamber.

  All the old men who’d followed her into the room when he arrived immediately crowded around. “Is it something catchy?” one man demanded.

  “No.” Miss Rose moseyed across the parlor. “You men need to pray.”

  “She always says that,” another old man grumbled to the group. Others asked what had happened.

  “Ma fell facedown in the aisle.”

  “So did mine.” The speaker elbowed the man beside him. “But I went on ahead and said my wedding vows!”

  Chortles filled the room, but Todd clipped, “Where’s Miss Rose?”

  “Likely fetching something. Keeping track of that lass is like balancing a book on an acorn. Can’t be done.” The speaker waggled his brows. “So is your ma a widow? Always did like a woman with meat on her bones.”

  For a second, Todd’s jaw dropped, and then he went straight back to gritting his teeth. Stepping to block the door, he fiercely stared the man down.

  Miss Rose exited a room diagonal to Ma’s. “Y’all give Mr. Valmer a chance to catch his breath.” Shaking her finger, she scolded, “And don’t you think for a minute I’ll put up with any roosters strutting in my parlor.” Arms full, she went back in to be alone with Ma.

  Suddenly the door to Miss Rose’s parlor banged open. The same large man who’d barged in on Ma now tromped inside. “Tracking. Thass wha’ I done. Lookie what I found!” He held aloft their valise.

  Stepping toward him, Todd extended his hand. “Thanks.” When the man shuffled back, Todd halted. “I’d like to shake your hand.”

  The leather bag hit the plank floor with a resounding bang. “Paw-Paw, Daddy! Watch. The man wans to shake my han!”

  A stubborn water pump got cranked with about the same force his arm did, but Todd couldn’t think of a time when he’d seen a handshake matter more. Jerlund must have repeated his name four times.

  Jerlund reminded him of Uncle Buddy. Ma’s baby brother was probably about Jerlund’s age when he’d come to live with them. Todd was eleven. Buddy claimed twice his years and thrice his strength. Though Todd might have boasted he had twice the smarts, it never seemed right to do anything but stick alongside his family. Plenty of folks felt differently. They hid away their slow-minded kin, so seeing how Miss Rose treated Jerlund lent significant reassurance of her compassion – even if she wasn’t medically trained. “Thanks again, Jerlund. We’ll need those things.”

  “Son, I done tole you to fetch his horse and take it to the barn.” Expression every bit as mean as his voice, a man grabbed Jerlund’s elbow and yanked him toward the door.

  “But, Daddy – ”

  Todd jumped in, “I don’t have a horse with me. I need to borrow one so I can fetch the doctor.”

 
Jerlund’s father snickered. “And I thought my son was a dolt!”

  Mr. Carver rested his hand on Jerlund’s shoulder. “Just because we think different ways don’t make any of us a dolt.”

  “How in thunder did he get here without a horse?”

  “The train.” Mr. Carver raised his voice. “Flinn twins! About the storm . . .”

  “Hitting faster than we thought,” someone shouted from the adjoining room.

  “Bet we get a good two feet by morning – ” A similar voice began.

  The first continued. “And a solid foot or more each day.” Their report sounded the death knell for him riding out for help. Until the storm stopped, they’d be stuck here with that young woman’s caring touch the only help on hand.

  Miss Rose opened Ma’s door and stepped back out. “I’m hoping these men haven’t bent your ear reciting cockeyed stories. Aside from carving, telling grand tales is what they do best.”

  He looked down into her eyes. “I’m from Texas, miss. Tall tales are to be respected.”

  A pretty blush washed her cheeks as a soft smile lifted her lips . . . like they’d shared a secret or something. “Respecting traditions and seeking out new tales can only improve one’s lot. Mr. Valmer, I’m fixin’ to spend a while with your mama.” Miss Rose made a shooing motion. “Go join the others. There’s food aplenty. Worry ofttimes leaves a fearsome appetite in its wake.”

  Suddenly the aromas of a good meal registered. So did the stampede of men heading toward him. Survival and hunger – both instincts kicked in. He headed in the direction she’d gestured.

  What a kitchen! He could have fit his entire cabin in it. A trestle table lined each side, and the center held a big worktable, a circle of chairs, and a pile of wood shavings. The largest stove Todd ever saw commanded the corner of the inside wall, providing heat for the whole building. Expensive white enamel smoothed across the doors of that oven, and fancy nickel doodads added embellishment. Savory steam rose from a gigantic pot on it.