The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific

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The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific Page 16

by Schwartz, Richard Alan


  “How’s Ruben?”

  “Up and down. He needs to have his leg looked at again. There’s almost nothing left.”

  Still not looking at him, she said. “Naomi will miss you.”

  “Joyce…”

  “I’m not the same person Ruben married.”

  Nathan sighed. “I know. You and I grew during his absence. We’re both stronger for our relationship.”

  With fury in her eyes, she looked into his and said, “You’re a rabbi. Tell me. Why did the Lord put us together and allow us to grow and find joy in each other only to cruelly tear us apart?”

  Nathan became pensive, ran a hand through his hair, and leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps to give us the strength to do the right thing when a crippled soldier returned home.”

  “I love you, Nathan.”

  He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You married Ruben before I met you and he needs you.”

  She twisted on her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “When you return to the Northwest, may we correspond?”

  He thought for a moment while rubbing his chin. “No love letters. Only what’s going on in our lives.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And no secrets. Ruben needs to know.”

  “He’s sensed how much you mean to Naomi and me. He’s told me he won’t mind if I write.”

  “We’ll be a continent apart.”

  Joyce rapidly shook her head. “No. You’ll always be right here.” She put her hand on her heart.

  Nathan covered his tearing eyes. “Good bye, Joyce.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: William and Celeste

  William studied at a desk in their parlor. Celeste and Shifra were busy knitting.

  Noah walked over to his father’s side. “Daddy, play blocks with me?”

  “Not tonight, Noah.”

  “I’ll play,” Shifra said.

  The toddler stamped his foot. “No. Daddy play.”

  “Dad,” Shifra said, “He wants to play with you.”

  William growled. “Not now.”

  “You’ve ignored us the last few days,” Celeste said to him.

  William wore a troubled expression. “I’ve been questioning my career choice lately.”

  “It’s been over a year. Why now?”

  “Two-months ago, four-year-old Mary Chris Riley trapped her leg in farm machinery.”

  “You and Dr. Beckham worked on her for a number of hours. Neither of you thought she’d live.”

  “She lived but will use a crutch for the rest of her life. The leg we tried to save is so weak it’s nearly useless.”

  “You’ve experienced setbacks. Why is this different?”

  “I was explaining,” William said in an anger tinged voice, “to her family she’d be on a crutch the rest of her days. My eyes were full of tears. I apologized for not being able to do more. Mary slid off her mother’s lap and put her little crutch under her arm.” William crossed his arms and sighed. “With halting steps she came across the office; the crutch making a thumping noise each time it hit the floor. She held her arms out and I pulled her onto my lap. Mary momentarily rested her head on my chest, then put her little arms around me, and said, ‘Don’t be sad. You did your best.’”

  “You can’t expect to repair every injury,” Celeste said.

  He shouted a reply. “A four-year-old shouldn’t be looking forward to using a fucking crutch the rest of her life.”

  Celeste glared at him, stood up and yelled through gritted teeth. “Then use your anger to bury yourself in engineering and medical books and engineer a fucking solution instead of taking your frustration out on your family.”

  William’s expression became one of shock. Celeste never raised her voice and never used profanity.

  “Come children,” she said. “We’ll retire to the girl’s bedroom and leave Dr. Kaplan with his problem. Perhaps he’d like to go for a walk until his anger subsides.” She glanced at William over her shoulder.

  He nodded.

  Two hours later and the children asleep, William returned with a stack of books. Celeste busied herself assembling a knit sweater.

  After an hour’s silence, she glanced at him. William pointed to the books. “My dad’s mechanical engineering course work.” He wrote a few notes, dropped his pen and gazed at her. “Celeste …”

  She interrupted. “I’m going to put the kettle on for tea. Favor a cup?”

  He nodded.

  Celeste took a few steps toward the kitchen. William jumped up and blocked her path.

  “What?” she asked.

  He threw his arms around her. She slowly closed her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He put his lips on hers.

  She leaned away from him. “William … ”

  “Celeste, will you marry me?”

  An expression of satisfaction bloomed. “But…everyone who knows us thinks we’re brother and sister. They may not approve.”

  “Anyone who doesn’t approve can go to hell.”

  “William! The children have heard enough profanity for one night.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Let the whole world hear. I meet dysfunctional families every day. I know fathers who dread going home and wives who dread their husband’s arrival. Dr. Beckham’s first marriage was like that. Depression nearly buried me after Monica died. I doubt I could have maintained my sanity without living in your home.”

  “It’s our home.”

  He shook his head. “No matter what the results of my medical efforts, you’re proud of me. Coming home to you, Noah, and Shifra, gives me strength to endure failures. You know when to cheer me up and when to get upset with me.” He kissed her again. “If love was visible, the world would see the children and me wrapped in and protected by the cocoon of your love.”

  She leaned her forehead against his chest. “When we were children, I was desperate to gain your attention. If that meant doing something mean, I didn’t care. All I cared about was you focusing on me.” Celeste smiled and briefly tightened her embrace. “As we grew, no one dared put a hand on me because they’d face your wrath.”

  “All brothers do that.”

  “Not all. I was so proud of the way you stood up for me during your Bar Mitzvah, I began making plans on how we would live as husband and wife.”

  “But Monica came long.”

  “Yes. Summer dance. The way you and she looked at each other…I cried for days.”

  “I didn’t know. Lately, I’ve caught myself fantasizing about making you my wife.”

  “Nothing would make me happier.”

  They engaged in another long kiss. Celeste caressed the back of his neck. “The children are both asleep in the girl’s room.”

  They proceeded to the boy’s room, undressed and slid under the blankets.

  * * *

  Celeste cuddled tight against his naked body. “That was beautiful. I had no idea doing it would feel so wonderful.” She kissed his lips. “You seemed to know just what to do. Is that because of your medical training?”

  “Dad told me.”

  “I’ll have to thank him.”

  “Funny thing. When I said I appreciated his telling me, he laughed. Said I owed thanks to a mud puddle.”

  * * *

  The sound of rain pelting their home’s windows provided a rhythmic background to the evening’s quiet.

  “You guys are sitting different,” Shifra said, looking up from her school work.

  “In what way?” Celeste asked.

  “While you’re reading, you’re sitting leaning against each other.”

  “Shifra, you’re the first to know.”

  “What?”

  “We’re getting married.”

  She wrinkled her brow; her gaze returning to her school work. “It’s about time.”

  The adults laughed.

  Thunder echoed through the neighborhood followed by the ripping sound of a tree being cleaved in half after it was struck by lightning. The sh
utters on their modest home rattled as the wind picked up and the rain intensified. A hand pounded on the front door and a voice yelled, “Dr. Kaplan, Dr. Beckham needs you.”

  “On my way,” William yelled as he pulled on a coat and reached for his medical bag.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bad Air?

  “Within a few days, half the town was squatting in the shallows of the river. Every one of them with the runs.”

  Dr. Beckham and William were interviewing a young family which had just arrived from a small town east of the Cascades.

  “Accompanied by severe stomach cramps?” Dr. Beckham inquired.

  “That’s right, doc,” the wife said. “If people ate anything, it just went right through them.”

  The husband continued, “They’s a lot of folks dying over there. We lived in Andersonville a few years with eight other families who pioneered the town just east of the Cascades from here. Lost my wife and little son to the sickness. We thought young Brian here wouldn’t make it as well but he’s doing better last couple of days and he don’t have the runs if he eats something.”

  “What did you do for a living?” William asked.

  “Livery and blacksmith during the day. Had a bar I ran at night. Made my own beer.”

  “Were you sick?”

  “Not a lick.” He thought for a while and said, “Something odd. One couple was untouched by the sickness. Nice folks. Just came here from England. Funny thing about them, they drank tea with all their meals.”

  William turned to the little boy. “How do you feel, Brian?”

  “Just tired. Don’t have the awful stomach pains like before.”

  Dr. Beckham turned to William. “Sounds like Cholera.”

  * * *

  David, Myra, and Ciara arrived for Sabbath dinner at William and Celeste’s home. After lighting candles and listening to Shifra and Ciara chant the blessing over them, William announced, “Let’s sing the Shehechianu blessing tonight. Celeste’s agreed to marry me.”

  They sang and then engaged in a round of hugs.

  “I have another announcement,” William said. “I’ve secured a part-time position at the University. I’m teaching and conducting research on childhood diseases.”

  Midway through dinner Myra quietly talked to Celeste. “The year you went camping with the Holts, David told me you and William were more like boyfriend-girlfriend than brother and sister.”

  Celeste thought for a bit and said, “I was young but felt that.”

  “It must have hurt when he chose Monica.”

  She nodded. “It did.”

  “Monica wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone.”

  “I know. On her death bed, Monica made me promise to take care of him.”

  “I had no idea,” Myra said. “Blessed Monica.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes.

  Myra cleared her throat. “I’d be honored to help plan a wedding.”

  “We wanted to wait until the weather improved.”

  “Seems reasonable.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Myra’s face brightened, “You’re…”

  Celeste’s cheeks turned red. “Since we agreed to marry, we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

  Myra laughed. “Thought of names?”

  “Jonah, after my father or Leah, after my mom.”

  “Thoughtful choices.” Myra grinned at David.

  “What?”

  “Your…son’s spear found it’s mark.”

  “Spear?…Oh.” He turned to William who nodded. David slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Ciara has news,” Myra said.

  Myra’s youngest sat up straight. “Andre Holt sent me a letter asking that I move to Alaska and help him with his business…it’s a restaurant and bar.”

  “That’s a long way and quite a risk,” William said. “I’d heard he was gold mining.”

  “He was but used the gold he mined to start the business.”

  Celeste said, “Are you sure…”

  “Andre’s the only boy who ever showed any interest in me. I’ve already answered his letter. I’m leaving in two-days.”

  They ate in silence for a while.

  “On a different note,” William said, “One of my university colleagues, Dr. Nelson, is retiring and moving to Yakima, Washington where his brother owns a tree and fruit farm. He said it’s lovely in the fall and invited us to visit.”

  William appeared lost in thought. When he mentally joined the others again, he said, “Dad, travelers arrived from a tiny town east of the Cascades. We think one of them had cholera. He lived but just barely. Most in the town were sick and many were leaving.”

  “Cholera has killed millions over the years,” Myra said.

  “I’ve read what I can about the disease. The texts indicate it’s related to bad air.”

  “How can you tell when the air is bad?” Celeste asked.

  “I don’t know. One source said it happens when many people are living in close proximity,” William said.

  “Like shanty towns with people living cheek to jowl?” Myra asked.

  William nodded.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Celeste said. “Why wouldn’t the bad air move away from the shanty town and cause illness in other areas?”

  “Most doctors agree it’s related to bad air,” William said. “I’m going to take the train out there with another doctor from the University. If the disease crosses the Cascades, I want to learn all I can before it gets here. We’ll leave the train and travel on horseback to the town. Maybe we can learn something new about the disease.” He turned to his father. “Want to come along?”

  “Don’t know what I can contribute but sure…I’ll go.”

  “We’ll make pasties for you,” Myra said.

  “And me!” Noah shouted. After an angry glance from his mother, he lowered his voice and quickly added, “Please.”

  William said, “I’ve been using a microscope at the University. You wouldn’t believe the zoo of tiny creatures which live in a drop of water.”

  “Can you bring it home so we can see?” Shifra asked.

  “I’ll do that.”

  * * *

  As their wedding ceremony concluded, William crushed a glass under his foot and everyone shouted “Mazel Tov.” He put his arms around his bride. The engaged in a long kiss. She placed her cheek on his and whispered. “And, bless the Lord, a little girl lived to see this day because the man I just married, noticed the girl’s injury, and took appropriate action that prevented her from bleeding to death.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Cholera

  A number of miles east of the Cascades, the train slowed until the cattle car with their horses fronted an earthen ramp.

  Dr. Bradley Simpson, William and David took to their mounts, waved to the trainmen and proceeded south on a trail which roughly paralleled a river.

  At noon, they entered a small town which was abuzz with the sound of hand saws and hammers. Five homes and one building were in a state of construction. The only other structures were the tents where the families and workers lived until the structures were completed.

  “Let’s talk to these folks and eat,” Bradley said.

  They introduced themselves and explained their mission.

  “Hell, I left that town even though we lived there four-years. Near every family was touched by that damn sickness. Two families wiped out completely. One of my boys was fine at dinner but dead four-hours later. You get this watery diarrhea, a person’s skin turns kind of greyish, and you suffer terrible muscle cramps. When it hit me, I was in so much pain, I was ready to meet my maker. With such bad air around, leaving was an easy choice.”

  “How did you know the air was bad?” William asked.

  “Easy. We all got sick.”

  “Did the air have a distinctive odor?” Bradley asked.

  Another man laughed and said, “With everybody suffering the runs the whole town distinctively smelled like shit.”


  They all laughed.

  “Men upstream and women downstream” one man said as the meal ended. He turned to the new arrivals. “Haven’t found time to dig pits for outhouses yet.”

  “If you visit that town,” one man said, “don’t stay long. The air is bad, I tell you. We believed it was a great place to live as there seemed to be a constant spring and summer breeze from the west or southwest during the winter.”

  “Keep following this trail next to the river and you’ll be there right quick,” another said.

  * * *

  “I counted seventeen graves,” David said. “Mostly youngsters and elderly.”

  “The wind is coming directly from the Cascades today,” Bradley said.

  “So bad air came across the Cascades without affecting Portland and hit this little town but no other towns in its path?” William said shaking his head.

  “I’m going to make some notes on how the town is laid out,” Bradley said. “Maybe that’ll help us make sense of this.”

  * * *

  “Here’s the report I wrote on our trip,” William said to his father as Sabbath dinner ended. “If I’ve forgotten anything, let me know.”

  “The paper you gave me last week, authored by John Snow concerning the Cholera outbreak in London was fascinating,” David said.

  “Not everyone accepts its findings,” William said.

  “Maybe we should plot cholera victims around here. Perhaps we can trace it to a bad water supply like Snow did.”

  “We should do that but how would that account for Cholera in the abandoned town?”

  “Is there a way to determine bad water?”

  William shrugged. “Not that I know of and Snow doesn’t mention it.”

  David read William’s paper. “You wrote about the barman who brewed his own beer but not the English couple who didn’t become sick.”

 

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