by Jerry Eicher
“Go inside then, and I’ll be in soon.”
Laura moved off, her fingers pressing her forehead briefly.
“Help us today, Lord.” Mary sent the prayer heavenward before she turned to meet the next student with a smile and a cheerful, “Goot morning!”
Marcus paused after he swung the forkful of stall muck towards the wagon. Mose was working beside him and had stopped to lean on his fork.
“You okay?” Marcus inquired.
Mose didn’t answer, his head hung low.
Marcus waited, his eye on his brother.
“Headache,” Mose finally muttered. “Splitting headache since breakfast.”
“You seemed to eat well enough.” Marcus tried for a lighthearted tone. Mose’s face appeared haggard. “Maybe you should take a short break.”
Mose nodded and sat down on a nearby hay bale. Marcus stuck his fork in the muck again and heaved upward. The plunk of the load landing in the wagon was almost drowned out by Mose’s violent choking noises. Marcus whirled about to see his brother bent double, vomiting on the concrete floor, with both hands clutched on his stomach. Marcus dropped the fork to rush over.
“Mose. What happened?”
“Threw up,” his brother said, stating the obvious, followed by another violent propulsion of Mose’s breakfast onto the barn floor.
Marcus wasn’t usually squeamish about people throwing up, but Mose’s face had turned nearly green and he was shaking, and the concern for his brother made Marcus feel almost lightheaded.
“You should go into the house.” Marcus’s voice was gentle but decisive.
Mose looked up in horror.
“Yah, you’re sick,” Marcus insisted.
“It’s the middle of the morning!”
“You’re sick.”
Mose’s objection was wiped away by another heave of his stomach.
“Come.” Marcus laid his hand on his brother’s shoulders.
Mose stood and staggered a few steps. Marcus stayed with him until they reached the barn door and Mose was headed across the lawn.
Marcus’s gaze drifted over to the schoolhouse. A light rain had begun to fall and the view was clouded across the fields. Mary would be busy with her morning classes by now. His younger sister had been sick the day before, and Marcus suspected it was a flu going around the community. Should he warn Mary?
Marcus frowned and closed the barn door. The flu could well be limited to his family at this point. Mary didn’t want him involved in her school teaching. He could already feel her silent disapproval of his janitorial schedule. He would go no further. Mary was capable of taking care of herself. If not, she could ask for help. As the janitor, he was willing to help where needed, but he would not humiliate himself by showing up at the schoolhouse door on the vague chance that a flu bug had spread beyond his family and was about to rear its furious head in the community. Mary would think he counted her incapable of handling the routine duties of school teaching.
Marcus reached for the fork again and plunged the prongs into the muck. He heaved, and threw the load towards the wagon.
“First-grade arithmetic,” Mary called out, and tried to ignore the noises coming from the girls’ bathroom. Laura had rushed inside right after their brief morning devotions and hadn’t returned. She was obviously throwing up. Should she knock on the bathroom door? Perhaps not. That might embarrass Laura more than help.
Mary forced a smile as the shuffle of small feet hurried up front and the children situated themselves on the two benches she used for classes. She shifted her gaze to them and tried to concentrate.
“Let’s see,” she began. “We learned the first of our numbers yesterday. Can anyone tell me what they were?”
“One and two,” little Enos piped up.
“That’s right.” Mary gave him an encouraging smile. “Can you write the number one on the blackboard?”
Enos nodded his head vigorously and jumped to his feet. There were more violent noises coming from the girls’ bathroom, but Enos didn’t seem to hear them. He proudly drew the number one on the blackboard.
“That’s perfect,” Mary told him. “Erase the number and take your seat.” She stood to her feet. “Just give me a minute.”
Several of the students sat at their desks with their faces turned towards the girls’ bathroom. Mary hurried past them and knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”
An unintelligible answer came back.
“Can you open, please?”
Another muffled croak.
This was serious. “Laura, please open.”
The lock turned, and the door cracked.
“Are you okay?”
Laura’s pale face nodded, but she didn’t open the door further.
“Can I help?”
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
Mary hesitated. “Okay, but I’m here if you need anything.”
“I know.” Laura closed the door again, and the lock clicked in place.
Mary turned back towards the first-grade class seated on the benches up front. She froze at the sight before her. Little Gerald was bent double, his hands clutched on his stomach and a stream of his breakfast spread out on the hardwood floor, with a portion smeared on little Bonnie’s dress. Shock was written over Bonnie’s face. The tears would clearly burst in a second.
Mary forced herself to move forward, in spite of the room moving sideways. The puddle on the floor stared up at her, the edges creeping ever wider. She clutched the back of a student’s desk as her knees went weak, and the world slowly went dark.
Marcus was working diligently in the stall when the barn door creaked behind him. He turned to see Mam enter the musty building.
“How is Mose?” Marcus asked, throwing another forkful of muck towards the wagon.
“He’ll be okay. It’s the others I’m concerned about. Mary might have her hands full today.”
“Mary. Does she have the flu?”
“Not Mary,” Mam said. “I sent Henry and Ronda off with headaches this morning. They didn’t want to stay home on their first week of school, with a new teacher in the schoolhouse. I thought they had a touch of the cold, but nothing serious. Now, with Mose so sick, I’m afraid I was wrong. I’m walking over to the schoolhouse to check on them.”
“I can go.”
Mam shook her head. “You have enough to do.”
Marcus followed Mam to the barn door and watched her walk across the fields. He wanted to go, but hadn’t dared insist. Mam was right. He had to let go of things. He had plenty on his plate.
CHAPTER 10
MARY REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS ON THE SCHOOLHOUSE FLOOR TO find a soft pillow under her head. Someone was rubbing her forehead with a wet cloth. Mary groaned and forced open her eyes. The face of Marcus’s mam, Silvia, came into focus.
Mary’s arms flailed as she tried to sit.
Silvia clucked her tongue. “Take it easy, dear. You must have struck your head on the way down.”
“I fainted?” Horror gripped Mary, and she made it upright this time. Her head throbbed, and a fog hung on the edges of the schoolhouse ceiling.
“Are you okay?” Silvia asked. “Let me help you back to your chair.”
Mary clung to Silvia’s arms and hobbled over to her desk. The benches were empty of the first-graders, but the stream of vomit still lay on the floor. The memories came back in a rush. She had been in the midst of the first-grade arithmetic class when she had gone to help Laura in the bathroom, and returned . . .
Mary groaned and settled into her chair. “Where is everybody?”
“They are here,” Silvia assured her. “I sent someone down to Lavina for help.”
“Lavina!” Mary jumped to her feet, and everything threatened to fade again. She promptly sat down again. “Lavina is in town shopping.”
“When did she go?”
“Earlier this morning. About the time the school children were arriving.”
“I see,” Silvia said. “T
hat’s why I must have missed her buggy leaving. I’ll send for help from Marcus instead.”
“Marcus!” Mary cried.
“Yah, Marcus,” Silvia said. “I can help you with the schoolhouse, but he’ll have to take Laura home. Beth can’t drive the buggy by herself.”
Mary wilted into her chair. She would never live down this disgrace. Fainting over the sight of vomit, and now Marcus was coming. The throbbing in her head became worse.
“Can I do anything for you?” Silvia asked.
“Maybe Ibuprofen,” Mary suggested.
Silvia left, and Mary focused on her schoolroom. The students sat in their seats with stunned expressions on their faces. Laura was not among them.
When Silvia returned with the Ibuprofen bottle and a glass of water, Mary asked, “How did you know to come over?”
Silvia wrinkled her forehead. “I’m afraid I have a confession to make. I sent Henry and Rhoda to school this morning with headaches. I thought they had a cold, but apparently that’s the first sign of this nasty flu, and it gets much worse after that. Mose is quite sick at home. I’m sorry this is happening.”
Mary swallowed two Ibuprofen and stood to her feet. “I think I’m the one to blame in this situation.”
Silvia patted Mary’s arm. “Don’t talk like that. The flu is so different every year. This one seems to strike fast, once it gets going.”
“What do we do now?” Mary racked her brain for answers. There was vomit on her schoolhouse floor, and several students appeared ready to add their own.
“We should clean up,” Silvia said. “Marcus will be here in a moment.”
Mary moved towards the washroom, where she knew there were buckets and mops.
Silvia stopped her with a touch on the arm. “I’ll go. You just had a nasty fall.”
Mary shook her head. “Watch the children. This is my problem.”
Perhaps if she cleaned the floor without throwing up, she could redeem some of her dignity. She should be on her hands and knees, hard at work when Marcus arrived. The news of her fainting would at least be muted in his critical mind.
Marcus had the wagon filled with muck when the barn door burst open.
His oldest sister, Wilma, rushed inside, her face flushed. “You have to come to the schoolhouse at once.”
Marcus froze.
“Mary fainted,” Wilma said, “and half the school is sick.”
“Mary!” Concern rippled through him. To cover up, he said loudly, “Half the school? That’s not possible.”
“Maybe not,” Wilma allowed. “But it seemed like it when Gerald threw up in front of the schoolhouse and Mary fainted. Regardless, Mam wants you to come and drive Laura and Beth home. Laura is quite sick.”
“How is Mary?” Marcus asked, setting his fork as calmly as he could against the wall.
“It was awful!” Wilma declared. “I never saw a teacher faint before. I tried to help her, but she was still unconscious when Mam arrived.”
“Unconscious?” He couldn’t hide his alarm.
Wilma noticed. “She’s not dead.”
Marcus took a deep breath. “Good thing Mam went up.”
“I know.” Wilma was looking skeptically at him. “Are you going to help, or faint yourself?”
“Let’s go then,” he muttered.
Wilma tagged along behind him as Marcus tried not to run across the fields.
“How hard did she fall?” Marcus asked over his shoulder.
“I don’t know. She just fainted away right in the middle of the room.”
“Like fell over? Crashed down?”
“Not like that,” Wilma said. “She went down slowly.”
“How long was she out?”
“A little while until Mam came.”
“Can she walk around now?”
“I don’t know. She was sitting in her chair when I left. Mam sent Esther down to fetch Lavina, but Mary told her Lavina was in town. That’s when Mam sent me to get you.”
They had arrived at the schoolhouse, and Marcus slowed down to enter quietly. Mam met him at the top of stairs. “You need to get Laura and Beth’s horse ready and drive them home.”
“Where’s Mary?” he asked, looking around.
Mam motioned towards the front of the schoolhouse. Marcus stepped around her for a better look. She was on her hands and knees, wiping the floor with a washcloth. Mary had to have heard him enter, but she didn’t look up.
“Is she okay?” he asked.
“I’ll take care of things,” Mam told him.
Marcus didn’t move. “I should help clean up.”
“Just go,” Mam said. “We’ll take care of it. Check on Mose when you get home, and someone needs to come pick up the other sick children.”
Marcus forced himself to walk away and had the horse hitched to the buggy by the time Mam helped Laura out of the schoolhouse, with Beth holding her hand. Marcus waited until the sisters had climbed in before he joined them and jiggled the reins to drive out of the schoolyard.
Mary held her breath as she wiped the cracks in the hardwood floor one last time. The Lysol in the water helped the smell. There had been no choice but to get down on her hands and knees after she had cleaned up what she could with the mop. In the background Mary had heard the hurried whispers between Marcus and Silvia. She had almost passed out a second time from the shame of what Marcus must be thinking. At least she had been working when he arrived. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected something like this to happen during the first week of classes.
Mary stood slowly to her feet and dropped the washcloth into the bucket. Silvia was coming back up the stairs after leading Laura and Beth outside, and Mary met her halfway across the floor.
Silvia held out her hand and took the bucket. “I’ll stay a minute longer until you wash up in the bathroom.”
Mary’s head spun as she steadied herself and arrived at the bathroom without mishap. She cleaned her hands thoroughly with soap and warm water. The smell of the vomit still hung in her memory, but the traces were gone from her fingers. Mary shivered. Maybe the scent of the soap masked the smell, which would return with a vengeance in the middle of the school day? She would faint away again. She couldn’t close school in her first week of classes, even if now many of the children had gone home sick.
Mary gathered her courage and left the bathroom. Silvia was keeping her eye on the remaining school children, with the bucket of water on the floor beside her. “Be back in a minute,” Silvia mouthed, and left for the basement.
Mary forced herself to walk to the front and face the classroom. “I . . . I know I fainted,” she began. No one laughed. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t normally faint, but today has been a strange day, so let’s see if we can put the pieces together. First thing, if anyone else feels the slightest bit ill, you had better go home.”
Mary held her breath. She half hoped everyone would go home, though she’d never admit it.
“I don’t want you to leave, but if you’re ill you should.”
No one left, and Mary forced herself to smile. “Okay. We’ll try to continue now. Let’s have our first recess while we calm our nerves. With the rain, we’d better stay inside and play in the basement. We don’t need muddy clothes on top of the tale you will have to tell your parents tonight.”
There were faint smiles on some of the girls’ faces, but no one laughed. They stood and traipsed down to the basement. Mary fell into her chair, but didn’t dare hold her head. The Ibuprofen hadn’t taken hold yet.
Footsteps came across the schoolhouse floor, and Mary looked up.
“Are you okay?” Silvia asked.
“I am,” Mary assured her.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Teach school for the day, Mary almost said.
Silvia was waiting.
“I’ll be fine in a minute. After I get over my embarrassment.”
“That could have happened to anyone,” Silvia comforted her.
“I’ll have Marcus come over after school hours to check on you.”
Mary didn’t have the energy to protest.
“I’ll be going then,” Silvia said, and left.
Mary watched them walk across the fields from the schoolhouse door and stifled a groan as her headache stabbed painfully. She would not faint again. She also would not finish the school day a minute early. She simply wouldn’t.
Marcus couldn’t stop thinking about Mary and how she was managing. He was tempted to walk over and ask, foolish as that would appear. The work of janitors was limited, and didn’t include checking in on schoolteachers during class time.
Mam informed him at lunchtime, “I told Mary you would be up to see her after school let out.”
He kept his eagerness from showing, and simply nodded. The hours dragged on, and Marcus’s concern increased at the last recess hour when none of the children came outside to play. The rain had stopped, but maybe it was too wet to play softball. When the last buggy pulled out of the driveway, he hurried across the fields. This had been a rough day for Mary, for this to happen in the first week of her new school term. She might be vain and materialistic, but Mary didn’t deserve this.
He removed his boots outside the schoolhouse door and entered to find Mary seated at her desk. Marcus cleared his throat.
She looked up with a frown. “Yah.”
“Mam said I should come over and see how you are doing?”
“I’m doing okay.” Her voice croaked.
He moved up the steps. “You don’t sound well.”
“I’m fine.”
“What happened was not your fault.”
The tears shimmered in her eyes. “Says who?”
“It wasn’t,” he said. “That could have happened to anyone.”
Mary made a face. “Fainting at the sight of vomit? I think not. I am to blame.”
“You might have a touch of flu yourself. That’s why you fainted.”
He could see hope rising into her face. “Do you think so?”
“I do,” he said. “Let me ask Susie if she would substitute for you tomorrow.”
