“Are you feeling better now, Sarah?” Ashley asked as she walked the two women to the door.
The girl seemed surprised that someone would think to address her directly. She nodded shyly. “All me hurtin’s almost gone.”
“Why, that’s a wonder if I ever saw one!” Mrs. Briar exclaimed. “‘Tis a miracle, for sure!”
“I’m glad I could help,” Ashley said warmly as she saw the women out the doorway. She watched them as they struck off down the road toward home, still exclaiming over the miracle.
For the next half hour Ashley busied herself emptying the tub and dragging it back outside where it was stored.
Afterward, she inspected the contents of the pantry, lifting lids and unwrapping various items until she ran across a container that faintly resembled soup. It must be the pottage Aaron had mentioned, she decided, and poured it into a pot that she hung over the fire to warm.
She went back for the small cake, a tin of butter, and a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth.
She’d just rinsed out the teacups when there was another knock at the door.
“Good grief!” Ashley murmured as she hurried to answer it.
An old lady stood on the porch this time.
“Yes?”
“Mistress Wheeler?”
Ashley froze. She wasn’t being careful enough. Here she’d opened the door again against Aaron’s warning. “May I help you?”
“Are you Mistress Wheeler?”
Ashley nodded hesitantly.
“Mrs. Briar said you might have something to help me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
The woman’s hand cupped her jaw. “Got me a teeerible pain.”
“Well…the doctor isn’t here…” Ashley began.
“The pain’s been teeerible for days now. I’m not able to eat or sleep, and what with the doctor being gone…” Mrs. Briar said, “you’d helped Saree with her miseries, so I thought…”
“Oh, my.” Ashley bit her lower lip, realizing that she shouldn’t be swayed by compassion, but the woman did look terrible. “Well…come in.”
Ashley ushered the woman into the kitchen. If Aaron heard about her dispensing medicine, he would have a fit.
“I hopes you can help,” the woman said, still holding her jaw with one hand. “Don’t think I can stand the misery much longer.”
Once again, Ashley rummaged inside her bag until she found the bottle of aspirin. “Here, take a couple of these. Have you seen a dentist lately?”
“Dentist?”
“You know, a man who cares for your teeth?”
The old woman shook her head. “No. No man cares what happens to me teeth. I hears of such a man, but never met one,” she admitted.
Ashley poured the woman a cup of tea, then hung the pot over the fire again.
“Mrs. Briar said you was a kindly soul,” the woman said as she settled herself at the table. “Me name’s Constance Connors, and I’ve known the good doctor since he was just a wee babe. Wiped his bottom many a time, I has.” Ashley grinned, wondering what Aaron would say about the colorful recollection.
“Never would have imagined him a doctor,” Constance mused. “He was always such a rapscallion.”
For a half hour and two cups of tea, Mrs. Connors entertained Ashley with tales of Aaron’s boyhood escapades.
The afternoon wore on, and Ashley thought the woman would never leave, but finally she rose, declaring that the pain in her jaw was cured.
“Mrs. Briar surely was right. You are a ‘miracle worker,’” she praised lavishly as Ashley walked with her to the door. “Praise be to the Maker!”
“It was nothing,” Ashley said modestly. “But, please, Mrs. Connors, don’t mention a word of this to anyone.” She didn’t want rumors spreading that Aaron had some sort of a miracle worker at his house.
“Oh, I won’t,” Constance promised, looking perkier now.
But not fifteen minutes after Mrs. Connors had scurried down the road, there was another knock at the door. This time it was a woman with a child in her arms.
“Mistress Wheeler? I’m Della Morton, and this here’s my little Henry. Henry’s feelin’ real poorly.”
“I’m sorry, the doctor isn’t here,” Ashley said firmly. By now she was put out with Constance for telling, when she’d agreed that she wouldn’t.
“Amelia Briar said that you had things in that bag of yours that were purely miracles,” Della countered.
“No, Mrs. Briar’s wrong. I just gave her a—” Ashley glanced at the boy the woman was holding and frowned. “What’s wrong with little Henry?”
Mrs. Morton quickly drew the blanket away from the flush-faced child. “My boy’s got the fever.”
Ashley drew back. “Putrid fever!”
The mother’s eyes widened. “No, just the regular fever, methinks!”
Kneeling in front of the little boy, Ashley touched his cheek. It was very hot. “How old are you, Henry?” she asked softly.
When he didn’t answer, Ashley glanced up at Della. “He’s five. Had a runny nose earlier in the week and jest draggy until today. I know it be askin’ a lot, but since Dr. Kenneman hasn’t been home for a few days, I was hopin’ you might help me.”
“Dr. Kenneman has been very busy,” Ashley apologized.
“Can you do something for my Henry? He’s so hot. And today he’s got a rattly cough that won’t let him rest none.”
“Oh, dear.” Ashley viewed the child worriedly.
“I know it’s askin’ a whole lot, but you can see how sick he be,” Della coaxed.
“I don’t know if I can do anything for him.”
“If you’d jest try. Amelia said you’d helped Sarah, and I passed Constance Connors on the road a while ago.”
“Their problems weren’t nearly as serious as Henry’s,” Ashley explained. “He could have pneumonia or a bronchial infection. He might need antibiotics that only a doctor can prescribe.”
The woman looked back at her blankly, and Ashley realized no one in this century had even heard of antibiotics, nor could they know anything about bronchitis or related problems.
“Please. Can’t you do something?” Della pleaded when Henry dissolved into a fit of dry hacking.
Ashley hesitated, biting her lip again. “I really shouldn’t…”
Henry’s mother moved Henry inside the house before Ashley could stop her. Once again she rummaged through her bag and fished out the bottle of cough medicine she’d been taking before she’d fallen into eighteenth-century Boston. She read the directions on the bottle, then poured a small amount into a spoon.
“Henry, you must swallow this. It doesn’t taste too bad.”
The little boy eyed the green syrup warily.
“It’s just an elixir, Henry,” Della urged. “Take it, lovey.”
Finally the boy’s lips parted, and Ashley poured the medicine into his mouth, wiping away a drop that escaped onto his chin.
“That may make him a little sleepy, but it will help the cough. And if you’ll crush half of this”, she broke an aspirin in two, “and give it to him every four hours, it should help his fever.”
Demonstrating her directions for Della, Ashley crushed half the aspirin and mixed it with water in a spoon, then coaxed Henry to open his mouth again. “This won’t taste quite as good,” she admitted. She made a face with him. “I should have given this to you first, shouldn’t I?” she said when Henry shuddered involuntarily at the bitter taste.
Della cuddled her son and murmured to him soothingly.
Ashley smiled at Della. “Take him home, bathe him in lukewarm water, and bring him back later this evening when Dr. Kenneman is here. I’d feel more comfortable if he would look at Henry.”
“I will, and bless you for helping, missy.” Della bundled Henry back into his blanket, then stored the bottle of cough medicine and two aspirin in a small bag that hung from a ribbon around her wrist.
“And Della, please, don’t mention this to anyone,
” Ashley pleaded.
“Oh, I won’t. You can be sure of that, missy.”
Ashley reached back into her bag and found the roll of Life Savers. She peeled away the wrapper and handed Henry a lemon one. “Here, Henry, this is for being such a good patient.”
Henry looked at the funny thing she held in her palm. “Go ahead,” Ashley coaxed. “It’s a Life Saver.”
“Eat it, Henry!” his mother demanded. “It’s a life saver!”
Henry popped the thing into his mouth as Ashley led Della to the door and closed it after her. She leaned against it with a sigh of relief.
The frantic screams of a small child sent Ashley rushing to the door thirty minutes later.
“Please,” the young woman pleaded when Ashley swung open the door. “My Jeanine burned herself!”
“Bring her in,” Ashley said without any hesitation this time.
There was an ugly red burn running down the child’s arm. The wound was already starting to blister.
Ashley raced to her bag and seized the sample of first aid spray she’d gotten in the mail.
“This will make it feel better, darling,” she crooned to the frightened little girl. “Here. Hold tight to my hand.” Ashley quickly sprayed the burned area. The child screamed, scrambling toward her mother with fright. When the cool spray had penetrated the scalded skin, the child ceased her wailing, staring at her arm.
“How does that feel?” Ashley asked.
“Not hurt…no more,” the child murmured.
The mother’s eyes were wide with wonder. “Why, ’tis another miracle!”
“No, it’s just first aid spray—”
“No, no! Whatever you did, it’s a miracle!” She gathered her daughter close, openly sobbing now. “Thank you, thank you!”
After giving Jeanine a cherry Life Saver, Ashley hurried the two to the door, but before she could bid them goodbye, another couple came up the path.
Oh, Lord, Ashley breathed. What had she done?
By the time she’d brewed more tea—something she was learning to do well by now—and dispensed more aspirin for the aches and pains of arthritis and dog bite—it was a good thing she always carried a large bottle—there were three more people waiting to see the “miracle worker.”
“Aaron, where are you?” Ashley muttered as she refreshed old Mr. Feinstein, who had an earache, with a cup of tea. The situation was clearly getting out of hand.
When Ashley heard the front door open again, she raced through the house to ward off the new corner. By now the drawing room was chock-full of people, and at least ten more patients were sitting on the porch, waiting for Ashley to see them and dispense one of her miraculous “life savers.”
Skidding around the corner, she came face to face with Aaron, who was peering into the drawing room with disbelief.
“Oh, hi there,” she said lamely.
White-faced, he turned to look at her. “What is going on?”
Sighing, she leaned against the doorframe wearily. There was no way on earth she was going to talk her way out of this one.
Chapter Ten
Stunned, Aaron walked to the window to peer out at the mass of humanity congregated on his front lawn. There were people there that he hadn’t seen in years! Voices rang out as the old, the young, the sick, the lame, and the destitute chanted Ashley’s name.
Mistress Wheeler, Mistress Wheeler, Mistress Wheeler! Aaron turned back to stare at her dumbfounded. Shrugging, she grinned. “It’s been like this all day; they think I’m some sort of a miracle worker.”
“Miracle worker!”
“Yeah, it’s the strangest thing—”
“What have you been giving them?”
“Just over-the-counter medicine that I carry with me most of the time,” she said in her own defense. “Midol, aspirin, cough syrup…
Aaron walked to the door and flung it open. “Please, return to your homes!” he pleaded with the frenzied crowd. “There is no miracle worker here!”
Ashley began shooing people out of the drawing room, trying to quell their loud protests.
“But me foot hurts!” one called.
“And I got this pain in me side!” another argued. Aaron was forced aside as the disgruntled patients made their way down the steps and immediately formed a long line in front of the house. It was clear that they weren’t giving up.
“Please, there’s been a mistake. You must all return to your homes,” Aaron beseeched. “Mistress Wheeler is not a doctor!”
“No, she’s a miracle worker!” someone in the crowd called.
“No, you must go home!”
Screams of protests went up as the crowd surged forward, hands straining to touch the miracle worker.
After pushing Ashley back, Aaron slammed the door. He threw the heavy bolt, strode to the windows, and jerked the curtains closed.
“You see—” Ashley began, hoping to explain the peculiar circumstance he had found there. But his angry words stopped her.
“No, I don’t see!” he roared. “What in the hell have you done? Hell doesn’t bother me, but it might some of your admirers.”
“Well, if you’d just calm down, I could explain. There were these two or three people who came looking for you, and you weren’t here, so since one of them had a headache, and one had…pain that plagues women only, and another had a toothache, I just gave them some aspirin.”
“What is this aspirin?”
“It’s medicine. Oh, aspirin didn’t come into existence until the late 1800s.” She groaned. It was impossible to explain all that had happened in the medical field in the past two hundred years!
A knock sounded at the door, and Aaron swore under his breath. “’Tis a fine kettle of snakes you have us in now,” he accused. “I strive to be inconspicuous, and what do you do? Entice half of Boston!”
The knock came at the door again, more insistent this time. Aaron slid the bolt back and cracked the door open a slit. He was relieved to find Paul Revere standing on the porch viewing the milling crowd with astonishment.
After pulling Paul inside, Aaron quickly closed the door behind him.
“Pray tell, Kenneman. Has there been a death in the family?” Paul asked.
“No, only a slight misunderstanding. ‘Tis nothing to be alarmed about.”
“Then why are all those people on your lawn?” Shooting Ashley a disenchanted look, Aaron said curtly, “Mistress Wheeler has been ‘healing’ the afflicted.”
“Healing the afflicted? I say, isn’t that a bit odd?” Realizing that Paul wouldn’t be there at such a late hour unless something important was happening, Aaron set aside the immediate crisis. “Have you news?”
Revere walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside to view the thinning crowd. “Trouble grows near.”
Aaron scowled. “Is it imminent?”
Revere nodded, his gaze going back to Ashley.
“It’s come to this,” Aaron breathed softly. “Gage is a crazed man.”
“Much my same thoughts,” Revere admitted.
“We must find a way to stop him!”
“You can’t.”
The two men turned, staring at Ashley.
“You can’t,” she repeated calmly. “The British are already on their way.”
“Aaron, why is she still with you?” Paul asked. “I assumed that by now you would have carried out your mission.”
Aaron turned, refusing to meet Paul’s gaze. “I think we should listen to her, Paul.”
Paul shook his head. “The woman knows not of what she speaks,” he scoffed. “How could she have acquired such information? Has she not been with you all day?” Moving to stand by the fire, Aaron thought about what Ashley had told him the night before. Was she from a time two hundred and seventeen years in the future? “Mayhap she speaks the truth, Paul.”
“The truth! Kenneman, think. How could she have gained such information? Our patrols only learned of events a few hours ago!”
Ashley liste
ned to the conversation, sympathizing with their anguish. General Gage, who had been kept informed of the colonists’ efforts by his spies, had found himself in a difficult position in mid April 1775. England was urging him to take control of the colony by force, and, while he was hesitant, it seemed he was left with little choice. Having made the decision, he had sent an advance patrol tonight to locate John Hancock and Samuel Adams. With these two powerful men out of the way, he assumed his chances of overpowering the colonists would be greatly improved.
But Hancock and Adams, having attended meetings at the Provincial Congress, were entrenched in Lexington, six miles from Concord. Gage had thought trouble could be avoided by sending men in the dark of night, but Revere’s appearance here tonight proved that the colonists had a spy system equal to Gage’s own.
After turning from the window, Aaron started to pace.
“I don’t know, Paul. But the things she speaks of, though curious, have a ring of truth to them.”
“What could she know that we don’t?”
“She claims to know the future.”
“‘Tis sheer folly! No one can know the future.”
“I do.”
The men turned to look at Ashley again.
“Please, listen to me.” Ashley forced Paul to meet her eyes. “Joseph Warren summoned you to his house earlier tonight with the intention of sending you to Lexington to warn Hancock and Adams that Gage is about to send an advance force of seven hundred and fifty men to seize and destroy the stores at Concord,” she said quietly. “But when you reached Warren’s house, Warren had already sent another messenger earlier. Willie Dawes is at this moment on his way to warn Hancock and Adams of the impending assault.”
Paul glanced at Aaron, speechless.
“Is this true?” Aaron asked.
“Yes, but, pray tell…how?”
Forever Ashley Page 14
