by Leisha Kelly
Maybe it would be okay.
Maybe. But of course there were no guarantees. And my mind raged with the thought. You cannot leave your baby! You can’t go! You just can’t!
Marigold was making cambric tea for herself and Eliza, and regular for me. We rejoined her in the kitchen and I sat in silence, trying to reconcile the thoughts churning in my head. They’re in need. They’re strangers. And I might have to ride the train . . .
“A ticket for such a short ride isn’t going to cost very much,” Marigold suddenly said, as if addressing my thought. “Surely we could find a driver. But if we can’t, I could pay that much out of that last rent money – I mean food and wash money – that Josiah gave me.”
“Marigold, I just don’t know – ”
“Pray on it, child. That’s all I ask.”
By morning I was all in a stew, but I couldn’t just let it go. I had prayed about it, not wanting to feel anything, but instead I’d felt strangely compelled not to turn my back when I really might be able to answer a need. Maybe Marigold was rubbing off on me. Or at least heaping my conscience with guilt. Whichever it was, I agreed to go. But I did tell her I’d rather not take the train. She thought it was because I feared getting lost on my own.
“I know right where the house is, and I can sure be of help getting you there.”
Marigold sent me over to use Mr. Abraham’s telephone to invite Rosie Batey over for a breakfast pastry and tea. While we waited for her, I packed a bag and we explained everything to Eliza, who seemed very pleased that I would be willing to help a family in need.
Then while Rosie was enjoying the treats, Marigold shared the problem and got an immediate agreement to drive me all the way to the Kurchers’.
“I can’t be going inside now,” Rosie insisted. “I take sick awful bad around ailing folks. There might be somethin’ brewing there along with those measles. Can’t take that chance. My doctor’d never let me hear the end of it.”
“That’s all right,” Marigold assured her. “All we need is a ride over there. I’ll show you exactly where the house is, and Eliza and I can keep you company on the drive back.”
“I’m going too?” Eliza piped up.
“Only to see the place and see your mama off. I’m sorry to say you can’t go inside because you could catch the measles from those poor children and your mama wants to keep you well.”
“Will Mommy get sick?”
“No, honey,” I promised. “I had measles when I was little, so I can’t get them again.”
I don’t think she understood that, but she didn’t ask for an explanation and I probably wouldn’t have been able to provide a very good one if she had. We finished our breakfast, I fetched my bag, and we were soon ready to go.
Riding with Mrs. Batey farther than the church might have been alarming, but I’d become more used to her driving in the weeks since we first came, and I’d even convinced her to try slowing down more while turning. I was confident that she did all right most of the time, and her automobile was certainly not as frightening as a train. It turned out to be a lovely day for a drive, and though my stomach felt tight and almost sick with the thought of sending Eliza back home without me, I was glad that they’d been able to accompany me on the way.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to come back and get me tomorrow afternoon?” I asked, just for the assurance. I didn’t want to be away from Eliza more than one night if possible, and Marigold thought that by then she would be able to find someone else from the church to take my place for a few days.
“I don’t see why not. As long as it’s not storming. I don’t drive in storms.”
“I’ll find someone else if I have to,” Marigold promised me. “And you can call Rosie or Mr. Abraham from Hilda’s neighbor’s phone if you need to.”
It seemed to be all settled, and I tried to feel comfortable about it. I watched Eliza, hoping she wasn’t scared or worried, but she seemed to be taking it all in stride. Of course, I had no way of knowing how she’d be on the ride home.
Perhaps we were a sight, three women and a child driving across the countryside. Every time we passed anyone, they turned their heads to look at us. But of course, Mrs. Batey did have an oddly painted car.
Marigold did her best at making the trip merry, singing hymns and telling stories about her and Rosie when they were younger. “Oh, we were the corkers,” she told us. “A wonder we didn’t one of us end up in a vaudeville show.”
I held Eliza’s hand and she leaned into me as we got closer to the destination, but she was laughing at Marigold’s stories and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the outing. I would have too, if it weren’t for my worry over Eliza’s feelings later.
At the nearest town before the Kurchers’, Marigold pointed out a little corner restaurant. “That would be the perfect place to stop and get an ice cream on the way home. If you don’t think it’s too cold.”
“It’s not cold,” Eliza said immediately. “We only needed one sweater.”
“Quite right,” Marigold agreed. “So that would be the perfect time for ice cream. If it’s all right with your mother.”
“Oh yes. That would be fine with me.” I really appreciated Marigold already finding a way to give Eliza something to look forward to and think about, other than missing me.
Kurchers’ farmhouse was nearly as big as Marigold’s house, but older, in far worse shape, and surely bursting at the seams with all the children they’d told me about.
Mrs. Batey drove as close as she could, but the driveway was full of too many dips and hollows to take it all the way beside the house where it looked like it used to go.
I was so nervous I was almost sick to my stomach and wished I’d never agreed to this. Until Eliza squeezed me tight and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Make all those children all better, Mommy. And their mama too. You’re a real alive hero!”
My eyes filled with tears and I almost couldn’t get out of the car. Was she thinking of her father the way I did as soon as she’d said those words? Was she afraid that I might not come back?
If so, it certainly wasn’t apparent. She smiled a huge smile. “See you tomorrow, Mommy! I’m gonna say a prayer in church that God make everybody better really fast. An’ I’m also gonna tell people they oughta come an’ help, just like you.”
“Thank you, honey.”
Two Kurcher children ventured out to greet us, a girl of about thirteen and a little boy smaller than Ellie. The girl knew Aunt Mari.
“Oh, Mrs. McSweeney! Thank you, thank you for coming.”
“I fear I can’t stay, but I’ve brought you good hands in my stead. Tell your mother this is Leah Breckenridge, wife of my dear nephew. She’s a blessing to me and I know she’ll be to you as well. She can stay until tomorrow when I hope to have some more coming.”
The girl thanked her again, and I hugged on Eliza.
“Is there babies inside?” she asked.
“There’s two wee smaller’n this’un,” the girl answered, indicating her younger brother.
“Sick?” Ellie asked on.
“Whole house is sick but us two here and Bobby,” she said.
I groaned inside. What had I gotten myself into?
“Will you kiss them little ones for me, Mommy?”
“I’ll do that,” I promised, kissing her first.
“I would love to visit with your mother,” Marigold told the big girl. “But I suppose that’d best wait until another time. Is she sick in bed?”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s been pretty poorly.”
“Give her a hug from me. I’m not sure I could manage the stairs going into your house without help, and I’m not going to ask her to come out. I’ll be back when the family’s feeling better.”
The big girl nodded, and then, that quickly, Rosie was ready to distance herself from the house of illness. I grabbed my bag, and she started the car going again. Eliza turned around three times to wave to me as they drove away.
&n
bsp; I suddenly wondered how I could muster the strength to climb the porch stairs and meet the rest of the family. This woman had twenty-one children? How many were still at home? And all sick, except for three?
The big girl’s name was Beth Ann, and she was ready immediately to take me in to meet her mother, so I took a deep breath and mustered the determination. There was nothing else I could do now. Eliza was on her way home without me. I had to trust her in Marigold’s hands. And God’s.
Hilda Kurcher cried in gratitude to have someone here to help. “I sent Bobby out again to meet the train,” she told me. “In case Marigold was to send somebody thataway. Don’t suppose he’ll find nobody today then, but that’s all right. You’re here now, and he won’t be gone long.”
Apparently there were eighteen still at home, most of whom had been sent to bed and told to stay there. She told me all their names and ages, and I asked her what was her most immediate need. “Laundry. Oh, my stars, we ain’t been able to keep up with the laundry. And we need more a’ the medicine tea boilt. I got three with their eyes sore and needin’ bathed. An’ those that’s got appetite ain’t been fed a decent meal neither. Thank you again so much for being here. Whatever you can put a hand to will be a help. I don’t know why I feel so weak. Seems to have hit me harder than the children.”
“Could be exactly that, Mrs. Kurcher. Adults don’t take measles often, but when they do, I suppose they make up for lost time.”
“I usually keep the children home from school when there’s anything going around so they don’t catch it. But this time – I don’t even know how this got started. We don’t know anyone else with measles.”
“What’s surprising to me, Mrs. Kurcher,” I admitted, “is how you got this far with none of them having it before.”
“That’s the funny thing. My oldest ones did have it, years ago. Three of them are on their own now, but of the other four, they’re all down sick except Beth Ann. I was expecting my eighth then. Mother made me stay away so I’d not take it then and put the baby at risk.”
I was immediately frightened to hear this. We might not be dealing with measles at all, though it did look like it in the mother. So if measles was in the house, there was probably something else along with it. Or how could the older three be sick again? Not with measles, surely.
“Do their spots look like the others?” I asked.
“Rafe and Ida don’t even have spots. But they’ve been feverin’ with the rest. Dodie’s got some, but they’re peculiar, I think.”
“May I go and look at your children?” I asked Mrs. Kurcher.
“Lordy, yes,” she answered me. “Do what you can.”
I had little doubt about the measles in all but the oldest three of the sick children. They all had fever and chills like the others, but they were the only ones with sore throats. And Dodie’s spots were only on the arms, not typical at all. I’d come to be just an extra pair of hands, and Marigold had thought that would be all that was needed. I was sorry now that I hadn’t asked them to summon a doctor.
I had my work cut out for me, to say the least. Nobody was dreadfully sick, and most of the children seemed to be at least a little hungry, so I decided that the first priorities would be a little food and the medicine tea Mrs. Kurcher had mentioned. I got her directions and got started in the kitchen.
Half an hour later, I had a nutritious brunch well under way and Mrs. Kurcher’s catnip and peppermint steeped into tea and distributed around the house. It was familiar, cooking on a woodstove again, though I needed wood brought in and wasn’t sure who to ask. Beth Ann was better needed helping with the younger siblings, and Dougy, the little boy who had greeted me along with her, was too little for a job like that. Maybe I’d find the woodpile myself after a bit.
I was almost ready to begin feeding whoever felt like eating when Dougy yelled that Bobby was on his way back across the field.
“An’ he’s got somebody with him!”
Someone from the town, maybe. Or a neighbor. It didn’t really matter, as long as they’d come to help. That would be a tremendous relief. There was far more work here than only my hands could manage.
I heard the heavy footfalls on the porch, the hint of his voice outside, but I didn’t make any connection until Bobby Kurcher proudly brought his guest right into the kitchen. I turned, hoping for a doctor or maybe a knowledgeable neighboring farmer and his wife. And then I nearly fell against the stove, so great was my shock.
Josiah Walsh.
23
Josiah
My first impulse was anger. Had Marigold done this? Could she have devised it on purpose, getting Leah and me both here at the same time? I couldn’t be sure. I’d told Mr. Abraham of my intentions, but not Marigold. And he’d said that Marigold would be asking several people, hoping to send someone tomorrow. He’d said not a word of this.
Leah seemed as stunned as I. She didn’t speak or turn to the pot behind her on the stove. She looked afraid, like she’d been trapped in a snare. I didn’t want her thinking it was by my design.
“I promise you, I did not know you would be here.”
“Th-that’s a little hard to believe,” she managed to answer me.
“Maybe so. But it’s the gospel truth.”
The incongruity of her presence sunk in slowly. I would never have imagined that she would even consider this, whether she’d brought her child into this sick house or left her at home. And how had she gotten here? She must have left at almost the same time I did but had someone bring her directly by car.
Bobby stood staring at us. “How’d you get here?” He asked the question for me.
“Mrs. Rosie Batey drove me,” Leah replied. “At Mrs. Mc-Sweeney’s request.”
She turned, found a stirring spoon, and gazed down into a pot of something on the woodstove. “There’ll be food in a moment if you all are hungry.”
I needed to think. I needed to put my hands to helping. I did not need to sit and have her waiting on me first thing. “I believe I’ll step on out to the field,” I told her. “Since you’ve got things taken care of in the house. This boy’s been telling me how badly they need to bring in the harvest. Bobby, get yourself something to eat before you join me. Put some meat on those bones.”
“I – I’ll need wood soon,” Leah said.
Bobby jumped at the spoken need. “I’ll fetch you some.”
And I followed; the quicker we filled the wood box, the quicker we could move on to something else.
She offered me food again after we’d brought in wood, but I went right back outside. It seemed the easiest way to handle the situation, at least for now.
There were so many things I would have liked to ask her. Why had she come? Had she brought Eliza along? Did Marigold have such a strong influence over her that she now felt obligated to come and serve? I could almost imagine Mari’s words: “We’re here to help one another. That’s why God put us on this earth, whether we realize it or not.”
I hated field work. I hated gardening even worse. But these people needed their corn brought in and their potatoes dug. There were tomatoes and other vegetables in a sizeable patch, and a field full of pumpkins, all sizes. Most of the vines were shriveling and the fruits were almost all plump and orange. The nearest end of the field was downhill and soggier than the rest. I could see a few of the closer pumpkins sunken on one side, infested with squash bugs and rotting on the damp ground. Hopefully there wouldn’t be much of that problem in the rest of the field. But they ought to be harvested promptly and hauled to market to get as much gain out of them as possible.
The corn was ready too, but I started with the pumpkins because it was their peak market time and I was concerned over losing more of the crop. I pulled one of the closest pumpkins first and then decided I might want a way to carry more than one at a time. A quick check in the barn revealed a rickety wheelbarrow I could use immediately. And a truck which they surely used to haul the crop to market, but I dreaded that idea.
Before Bobby came back outside, I’d already picked more pumpkins than I’d ever handled in my entire life. Because I’d not been sure how they might select for market, I’d just been setting them all together along the nearest side of the barn.
“Sure you don’t wanna go eat?” Bobby asked me as he reached my side. “That woman made some pretty good soup.”
“Later. Need to keep making progress first. Do you sell right in town? And would your market be open today?”
“Should be. Grocer and canner both. And they’ll prob’ly be glad to see ’em. Mama’s been telling me all week we need to pick punkins, but I ain’t been able for doin’ t’other stuff needing attention first. Probably weren’t much use to it anyhow without somebody to drive ’em in.”
He eyed my pile rather critically. “You know we gotta sort, don’t you? The biggest and prettiest goes to Fletcher’s Grocery. The smaller and not quite so nice goes to the cannery, and the ones that ain’t fit for neither goes to Mr. Hawkins for his pigs. He’ll give us a side a’ bacon later. Best trade I ever knowed.”
“Couldn’t argue with you there.”
“We gets to pick out and save a bunch for our own eatin’ too. Many as we want. Mama lets everybody handpick their own.” He gazed around the field and frowned. “The littler kids loves pickin’ their own punkin. It’s good fun and they ain’t allowed in the field otherwise. I s’pose we’d better leave some for when they’re feelin’ better. Wouldn’t wanna pick everything an’ spoil things for ’em.”
I looked at the massive field. “Not much chance of that. Let’s just get a start for a first load to market and try to get some corn in too.”
He began sorting through the harvested pumpkins and I started to go back to picking. But the thought of getting these to market today, if possible, wouldn’t leave me.
“Is your mother the only one that drives?”
“Lowell, Dodie, and Rafe, but they’s all sick. An’ Buck and Junie, but they went with Buck’s pa to Effingham for some kind of reunion. Sure wish they’d get back. We been in need a’ their help.”
