by Ginny Dye
“They started feeling poorly about five days ago,” Amanda answered timidly.
Carrie hid her frown as she nodded briskly, and knelt in front of the little boy, not missing the flash of gratitude in the tired woman’s eyes. A normal cold would have run its course in five days. The children’s had developed into something more serious, probably pneumonia, but she kept her voice light. “It’s nice to meet you Silas.”
The little girl, a year or so younger, seated next to him smiled timidly. “I’m Violet.”
Carrie turned to her, and placed a cool hand on the burning forehead. “I bet you don’t feel so good, do you, honey?”
“No, ma’am. I reckon I don’t. Silas be sick, too.”
“Yes, I can tell both of you are,” Carrie agreed. “I think we should do something about that.”
“You can make us feel better?” Silas asked weakly. “Even though you just a woman?”
Carrie glanced at Amanda with a reassuring smile, and then turned back to Silas. “There are a lot of women doctors now,” she said gently. She decided there was no need to mention she wasn’t an actual doctor yet. She had been working as one for the last 4 years. A diploma would make other people feel better about her credentials, but the poor people coming to her clinic only wanted to know if she could make them well. “And, yes, I can make you feel better.”
Silas seemed to accept her answer. “Thank you,” he said simply before he took a deep breath and erupted into hoarse coughing that seemed to cause spasms through his entire thin body.
Carrie looked up at Polly, but didn’t have to say anything. Her assistant nodded, and headed into the remedy closet.
“Can you make me feel better, too?” Violet asked, her little body continuing to tremble in spite of the blanket and the warm room.
Carrie reached forward to take the little girl’s hand, brushing back damp strands of blond curls with her other hand. “Yes, honey. I can make you feel better, too.”
“Right away?” Violet whispered. “I’m feeling real bad.”
Carrie smiled. “You’re not going to feel very well for the rest of the day, I’m afraid, but I believe you’ll wake up in the morning feeling much better.”
Violet tried to smile back, but a wracking cough took over before she could.
Carrie looked up at their mother. “Is your home warm?” she asked.
Amanda flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Not very,” she admitted. “My husband tries real hard, but he ain’t been able to get work since the war. He was gone the whole four years. We managed somehow. I thought things would get easier when he came home, but he can’t get work.”
“Can’t he chop wood for a fire?” Polly asked when she emerged from the supply room.
Bitterness twisted Amanda’s face. “It ain’t so easy to do when you only got one arm, and your left leg is a stump from the knee down,” she said bluntly. “He had to have both of them amputated during the siege of Richmond. They completely froze up during that long winter.”
Carrie grimaced. She knew exactly how horrible that time had been.
Amanda continued before she could respond. “I try to cut enough, but it upsets him to see me chopping the wood.” Shame filled her eyes as she looked at her sick children.
Carrie’s heart squeezed with sympathy. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. She looked up at Polly. “These children are staying here tonight.”
“Here?” Amanda asked sharply. “This ain’t no hospital.”
“No,” Carrie agreed, “but it is most certainly a place where people get well. Your children need to be warm tonight if they are going to get better. We’ll make up beds for them in the back room. You can stay here to care for them. I’ll give you everything you need.” She didn’t add that at least the woman could be warm for one night.
Amanda hesitated, and then nodded, her eyes flooding with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered. She glanced at the door, a sudden look of concern filling her face.
Carrie understood. “Go home and tell your husband I won’t let the children come home tonight. Tell him I insist you are here to care for them.”
“My husband is a good man,” Amanda said staunchly.
“Of course he is,” Carrie agreed quickly. “The war has been hard on everyone’s pride. And, the end of the war has only made things harder for some people.” She locked eyes with Amanda. “Let’s help your children without hurting his pride any more than it already has been. Now,” she added briskly, “you head on home so we can start making your children feel better. Come back as soon as you can. I promise you they are in good hands.”
Amanda’s smile was genuine this time. “I know that, Miss Carrie. Folks ain’t got nothing but good things to say about you.”
Carrie smiled gently, and then turned back to Silas. “How about if we get you and Violet into a warm bed with some hot water bottles?” she suggested.
“I reckon that sounds real good,” Silas answered weakly, his body seeming to sag with relief that he wouldn’t have to walk home through the cold. All Violet could do was make a little whimper when Carrie reached out a hand for her.
Chapter Four
Amanda was back within an hour. She nodded when she entered the door, her eyes even heavier with fatigue, but she didn’t say anything. Carrie could tell she was simply relieved to have a warm place to spend the night. She suspected the woman had barely had enough strength to make it back to the clinic.
“The children are settled,” Carrie said. “We heated a pot of water with sage, mint and chamomile, and let them inhale it while we tented a towel over them. That helped their congestion, and it helps kill off the cold virus.”
Amanda listened closely, but remained silent, her strained eyes saying her time with her husband had been less than pleasant.
Carrie pretended not to notice. “We gave both of them a hot bath, and then tucked them in with hot water bottles,” she continued. “And Polly sliced onions for their feet.”
Amanda stared at her. “Onions? For their feet?” She frowned. “I had heard you weren’t a doctor like other ones, but I ain’t never heard of anything like that.”
Carrie smiled. “It’s an old Indian cure for colds and fever. Polly sliced the onions about a quarter inch thick, and then placed them on the soles of their feet before she covered them with warm wool socks. You’ll want to replace the onions around midnight tonight, and then again in the morning around seven o’clock. I will be in not long after that. You also want to make sure they drink plenty of water. I have put two pitchers beside the bed. Make sure they drink it all. They won’t feel like eating until their fever goes away. We’ll have something for them in the morning.” She paused. “We also put a bowl with onions on either side of their bed. All of it will help draw out the fever. I suspect the children will need to stay here a couple days before they can return home.”
“I ain’t never heard of such a thing,” Amanda said, but there was no resistance in her voice, just curiosity. “Who would have ever thought onions could make my babies better.”
“I thought it was crazy when I first heard it,” Carrie admitted, “but I’ve seen it work too many times to not believe in it.” She waved her hand toward the back room. “We put the children in one bed, and made another for you so you can be close to them. There is plenty of firewood for you to keep the clinic warm. I’m afraid I’ll have to count on you to do that.”
“I’m grateful, Miss Carrie,” Amanda replied quickly. “It will be real nice to have my children warm.” She hesitated. “Me, too,” she admitted. Then she met Carrie’s eyes. “I told my husband that it’s nothing but wrong for our children to be cold and sick. I told him I understood his pride was hurt, but that he was gonna have to let me cut the firewood from now on.”
“What did he say?” Carrie asked, admiring the other woman’s courage.
“I think he knew how sick our kids were when I brung them here. Like I said, he’s a good man. He agreed to let me cut the wood,”
she said with relief. She smiled slightly. “I reckon he’ll be happy to be warm, too.”
“Wonderful!” Carrie exclaimed. “I’m sure the children will be well enough in a couple days to come home. They will stay healthy if they live in a warm house.” Since the clinic was empty, and she had a little time before she needed to return to the plantation, she offered Amanda a cup of hot tea.
Amanda reached for it gratefully. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Polly will be back soon with some bread and chicken soup. If the children wake up hungry at any time, the soup will be perfect for them.”
Amanda smiled. “And the bread?”
Carrie shrugged. “Annie makes the best bread in the world. I think you’ll love it.” Then she changed the subject because she knew how hard it must be for Amanda to accept what must feel like charity. “You said Silas and Violet are supposed to start school tomorrow. Where?”
Amanda cocked her head in the direction of the back wall. “Right next door.”
Carrie smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.” Of course she knew about Rose opening the school to all children in the area, but no one knew if any of the white children would actually be allowed to attend. At least there would be two – as soon as Silas and Violet were healthy enough to go. She wouldn’t allow them to spread their cold to the other children.
Amanda hesitated, but then looked at her squarely. “I ain’t sure it’s such a good idea.”
“Then why are you letting them come?” Carrie asked.
“Because my children need education,” Amanda said fiercely. “There ain’t nobody making schools for poor white children, but there sure does seem to be schools popping up for these nigger children all over the place.”
Carrie watched her, deciding to let the word nigger slide for now, even though she hated it. “I know that must be hard,” she said instead. She had learned the value of letting people talk through their feelings.
“You ain’t got no idea,” Amanda said hotly. “This war destroyed everything I ever knew. I’ve been poor all my life. So has my husband, but we made do before the war by doing some farming down in Georgia. I kept my kids going by growing my own food and tending a few animals. It wasn’t much, but we didn’t go hungry. Then Sherman came through and torched everything we owned. He destroyed our whole state! Me and my babies hid in the woods and watched those men ruin our life and farm. By the time they moved on, we didn’t have nothing left. We had to sleep in those woods for five days.”
Carrie shuddered. “I can imagine how terrified you were. What did you do?”
Amanda hesitated, but then obviously decided to just tell the truth. “My husband showed up a few days later. He deserted the Confederate Army when he found out what Sherman was doing,” she said boldly, pride shining in her eyes. “All he cared about was making sure me and the kids were safe. I can’t even imagine how he walked all that way on one wooden leg, but he did. He said the South was gonna lose anyway, and that he was tired of fighting a war he didn’t understand in the first place.”
“He’s a good man,” Carrie said softly.
“You don’t think he’s a good for nothing deserter?” Amanda demanded, her eyes burning. “I heard your husband was a captain in the army.”
“He was,” Carrie agreed, “but all the suffering his men had to endure was so hard for him. He almost died himself at the end of the war. There were so many times I wished he would just walk away from the army. I didn’t believe in the war, and I didn’t want to lose the man I loved to it.” She saw no reason to not be truthful.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “Honest?”
“Honest,” Carrie said firmly. “How did you end up here?”
Amanda shrugged. “My mama was up here. I grew up around this area, but moved to Georgia when I met Tim. We came back here, hoping for a place to start over.”
“It didn’t work out?”
Amanda shrugged again. “In a way, but not the way I hoped. My mama died about a week after we arrived. The war done used her all up, I guess. Once she knew I would have a home, I think she just gave up. We’re living in her house. I think about her every day.”
Carrie’s heart swelled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. My mother died six months before the war started. I don’t think she would have survived it, so maybe it was for the best.”
“She couldn’t have survived with her fancy way of life taken away from her?” Amanda asked bluntly.
Carrie stiffened, but saw no anger in the other woman’s eyes. She was simply stating the way she saw things. “I believe that is true,” she said quietly. “My mother only knew one way of living. She was not very adaptable,” she said wryly.
Amanda sat back with an expression of surprise and apology. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
Carrie shrugged. “It was the truth.” She fixed Amanda with a steady gaze. “The only way any of us are going to survive the end of the war is to work together. I may have a different way of life than you do, but we are basically the same people.”
Amanda stared at her for a moment. “You have children?”
Carrie smiled, and laid her hand on her stomach. “Not quite yet.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Due in July,” Carrie said happily. Then she frowned. “But I’m terrified every day of the kind of world I’m bringing my child into.”
“I know just what you mean,” Amanda replied.
Silence settled on the room as the two women sipped their tea companionably and listened to the crackle of the fire in the wood stove.
********
Carrie was so tired when she trudged up the steps to the house, that she didn’t see Robert in one of the rocking chairs.
“I’m glad to see you took it easy today.”
Carrie couldn’t miss the sarcasm in her husband’s voice, but she didn’t detect anger. She settled down into the chair next to him, gratefully accepting the blanket he offered. It was cold, but the fresh air felt wonderful. She’d had a bowl of soup before she left the clinic, so she wasn’t really hungry, though she was certain Annie was waiting to force feed her. “I feel much better,” Carrie said, “but I get tired so easily. I really don’t think I overdid it today, but my body seems to feel differently.”
“You’re late getting home,” Robert pointed out.
Carrie explained about Amanda, and her two children. “We were having a nice time talking, and I didn’t really have the energy to come out into the cold. A bowl of soup made me feel better.”
“I’m worried,” Robert said quietly.
Carrie felt a flare of impatience. “About me, or about our child?” Was she going to have to deal with everyone’s worry for the whole pregnancy? Just because her mother had almost died during her birth didn’t mean she would have trouble.
“Both of you,” Robert replied, in just as quiet a voice.
Carrie felt a surge of remorse. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I just don’t like people watching every single thing I do. The morning sickness is over. There is no reason to believe the rest of my pregnancy won’t be completely normal. Rose taught school right up to the day she gave birth to John.”
“And she almost died,” Robert reminded her dryly, “because she had worn herself down so much.”
Carrie sighed. She had been remembering Hope’s easy birth. Quite honestly, she had forgotten about John’s difficult delivery. “I won’t do that,” she insisted. “But I have to take care of my patients,” she argued. “I can’t just sit around the house like a piece of furniture!” Robert chuckled, but she could hear the strain.
“I know I can’t tie you to the bed,” he agreed.
“How wise of you,” Carrie retorted. She tried to push away her irritation, but her emotions seemed to run rampant. She knew it was a normal part of being pregnant, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. “I’m hungry,” she announced, hoping it would distract her husband.
“Then let’s do something about that,
” Robert said, pushing up from the chair.
Carrie knew he was letting her win for the moment, but she also knew he wouldn’t give up on his campaign for her to take it easy. She rose to join him, but stopped when he handed her two envelopes. “Letters!” she cried with delight. She held them up, but couldn’t distinguish the writing in the dark.
“They’re from Abby and Janie.”
Carrie opened the letter from Abby as soon as she was seated at the table in front of a plate full of fried chicken and sweet potatoes. She ignored the fork next to her plate as she began to read.
“That food ain’t there just to look at!” Annie said with a scowl. “Don’t you know pregnant women ‘sposed to gain weight, not lose it?”
Carrie looked up with an absent-minded smile. “Don’t worry, Annie, I’ll eat it,” she promised, and then she gave a cry of delight. “Abby has met with Dr. Hobson.”
“That a doctor that can talk some sense into you?” Annie demanded, exchanging a look with Robert.
Carrie ignored her. “He’s the homeopathic physician in Richmond!” Her eyes scanned the letter. “He says he would love to meet with me, and help me continue my education until I can go back to school.” She pushed aside the uneasy feelings she still had about returning to school with a young child, and just what that would mean for Robert on the plantation. She would worry about those details later.
“That’s wonderful!” Robert said sincerely. “Have you learned any more about him?”
“Yes,” Carrie replied. “He’s in one of my school books. He was born in Cumberland County in 1810. He graduated as a doctor from the University of Pennsylvania when he was twenty-two. He studied in Paris for a year, and worked as a traditional doctor for twenty-six. He was drawn into homeopathy in 1858 when several cases showed him how much more effective it was than the type of medicine he was using. He changed his practice after that, and moved it to Richmond.”
“I’m surprised you heard nothing about him during the war,” Robert responded.