“I don’t see why not, honey,” she said with what she hoped was a smile. “If you want to, you certainly may.”
David appeared in the doorway of a small room at the far end of the cabin. He approached the other two with a travesty of a smile on his face. “I see you made it,” he observed unnecessarily, relieving her of the popcorn popper and the bag of kernels. His eyes were bleak and dark. “I’m glad… For Philip’s sake.” One hand touched her elbow lightly, but burning nevertheless. She jerked it away. “Come look around, Eleanor.”
The interior of the cabin was lit by the glow of the fire and the small amount of daylight admitted by the two tiny windows. Against one wall stood a handmade table, its top of pine boards, its legs of tapered timbers, plain and sanded to a smooth finish. There were three chairs made of poles with braided cedar bark woven into seats. Three bowls made from maple burls lay on the table, polished to a high shine, which caught the firelight and threw it softly against the wall and reflected in the window.
The dim doorway from which David had emerged showed the end of a large, heavy-framed bed of what must be polished yellow cedar and Eleanor forced her eyes to flick past that and come to rest on the fireplace, which was a small replica of the one in her cottage.
“Pretty good, huh, Mom?” Philip asked with loud excitement. She didn’t have the heart to remind him to used his ‘indoor” voice. “See my bunk?” And he ran to the narrow, deep bunk built from the same wood as the other one, against the wall right next to the fireplace. “This is where I’ll sleep on those cold winter nights when the wind screams down from the Yukon and the wolves howl around outside looking for a way in. But they won’t get me because I’ll be warm and snug in my bed by the fire and Jeff will be warm and snug in his bed with his sweet lady and when the fire burns low it will be my job to throw more wood on it.” He sucked in a great gulp of air and would surely have gone on breaking his mother’s heart had ‘Jeff’ not intervened.
“Phil,” David said, and his quiet voice seemed to fill the empty corners of the cabin. “That was only a game of pretend that we played. There are no wolves around here. Why not show your mother the spit where we’re going to cook the bear steaks and moose roasts and hot dogs?”
After the hot dogs in lieu of moose roast had been devoured, Philip squatted in front of the fire, his face glowing red as he vigorously shook the corn popper and listened enthralled to the clatter of kernels bursting against the lid. Steam rose from the small pan of butter melting near the coals and when the sound of popping had ceased, Philip turned to the adults, his face the epitome of bliss. “Think it’s done?” he asked, and at Eleanor’s nod, carefully carried the popper to the table where David poured its contents into the three bowls.
Eleanor picked up the pan of butter and stood holding it while Philip placed the bowls, one by one, in front of each chair. “One for Papa Bear, one for Mama Bear and one for Boy Bear.”
Tears burned suddenly in Eleanor’s eyes. She blinked them away, but not before her sharp eyed little son had noticed. “What’s the matter, Mom?”
She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and smiled at him. “Just a little smoke from the fire.”
“Aw, Mom… I bet you were going to cry cause I said ‘Boy Bear’ not ‘Baby Bear.’ What we need is a baby so you won’t mind me being a boy.”
Eleanor couldn’t prevent her glance flying to David’s. The knowledge that the possibility existed stood stark in his eyes as she knew it did in hers, although until this moment of tacit communication, neither had admitted even to themselves that it was there. “I don’t mind having a boy, not a baby,” Eleanor said hurriedly, her voice sounding unnaturally high. “What I think we need right now is Goldilocks. My popcorn porridge is too hot.”
Over Philip’s giggles, David spoke quietly and Eleanor’s ear. “I’m sure that could be arranged. Probably at the hotel. He does have pretty gold curls.”
The bitterness in his tone was too much for Eleanor. She wheeled and ran out of the cabin, tears streaming down her face, sobs choking her as she headed for home. David caught her the edge of the clearing.
“Eleanor! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come back. Let’s not ruin his housewarming party for him.”
She buried her face in her hands, trying to regain control. She trembled violently as he held her shoulders, pulling her tight against his chest. At last she raised her head. “I’m all right,” she said dully. “I’m ready to go back now.”
They sat in the firelight in the warm little cabin, on the slates of the raised hearth, ate sticky s’mores with scorched marshmallows and sang silly songs for an hour, accompanied by Eleanor on the guitar which David produced. When Philip was yawning too much to continue singing, Eleanor put the guitar up on the table. “Come on, Boy Bear. Time to go home and get you into bed.”
“Can I sleep here, Mom? It’s warm enough.”
David looked directly at Eleanor for the first time since he had brought her back. His eyes begged.
“How about tomorrow night, Phil?” she suggested. “I have to go out and Cindy can’t come. I had her booked for tonight, but I canceled, and tomorrow she sitting for the Peters.” Eleanor turned to David to explain, “Cindy Exley is my regular babysitter… So if you wouldn’t mind…?”
His words, calm and quiet, belied the expression of his face. “I don’t mind Eleanor. I’ll walk you and Philip home.”
~ * ~
The next night Eleanor tried to be good company for Grant. He ordered champagne and raised his glass in a toast. “To your freedom,” he said.
She tried to laugh at his jokes, with an effort made her arms and legs go through the motions of dancing. She made a brave attempt to put some animation into her voice, but she know it was all for nothing. “I’ll take you home,” said Grant. “I can see you’re really not with me tonight.”
At the door to her house, when she turned to say thank you to him and he lifted her face to kiss her, Eleanor turned aside so his lips met her ear. “Goodbye, Grant. I’m sorry.”
“Goodbye? Oh, no. Not that easily, Ellie. Goodnight, maybe, but I am going to go with you to visit that lawyer on Monday… Just to be sure that you really go.”
“I’ll go, Grant. But it doesn’t change anything where my feelings for you are concerned. I’m sorry.” she repeated, and slipped inside, closing the door on him.
Eleanor, planning to sleep late on Sunday to make the day seem as short as possible, was surprised to look at her clock and see if it only five-sixteen when Philip’s cold hands touched her. “Mom?” he said plaintively. “Mom, wake up! Jeff’s sick. He got up a little while ago and went to the camper for some medicine and when he didn’t come back I went to look for him and he’s lying on the floor. He won’t sit up or talk or nothing! Will you come?”
Before Philip had finished talking Eleanor was dragging on a pair of jeans, ripping her nightgown off and pulling a T-shirt on over her head. On her way through the door she said, “Did you touch him? Is he hot?”
“The door was shut and I couldn’t open it so I climbed up and looked in the window and he’s lying there all funny looking. I banged on the side window and called him but he didn’t move.”
Eleanor dragged her son by the hand as they pelted across the creek, up the meadow and into the woods, following the beam of her flashlight. By the time they reached the camper she had a terrible stitch in her side, her head was swimming, and her breath came coming in labored gasps. She wrenched open the door and knelt beside David., A sob escaped her when she saw he was breathing. But he was lying too still. And he was so hot!
Frantically she tried to recall the incubation time for measles. If her estimate was right, this was about the day he should be getting them, if he were going to. And it looked very much as if he were.
“Wake up, David,” she said, shaking him gently by the shoulder. “Darling, come on! I have to get you home to bed!” But he failed to respond, just lay there, his breathing stertorous.
Eleanor
turned to her son who stood wide-eyes just outside the door of the camper. He still panted from his frantic run. “Philip,” she asked, “where does Jeff keeps the keys to the truck?” She conquered the tendency her voice had to quaver, telling herself to keep calm.
“In his pants pocket, Mom.” It was so logical she wondered why she’d had to ask. She dug down into his pockets until she found the key ring. “Honey,” she said to Philip, “I need you to come in here and sit on the floor so you can hold Jeff’s head in your lap. I’m going to drive the truck to town to get help. The forestry road is rough and it’ll be a bumpy trip before we get to the highway. I don’t want him to hurt his head. That’s the way… Just like that. Put both arms under his chin but don’t choke him. I’m going to close the door, and go get in the cab. It will seem like a long time, but you just be my big, brave boy and look after Jeff for me, okay?”
With trembling hands Eleanor checked out the gears of the truck and started the engine. She let the clutch out too quickly and jerked violently, stalling. Slowly, Eleanor, she told herself slow and steady…
And then she looked at the gas gauge.
Oh, Lord! Not nearly enough for the hour-long drive to town, and the nearest gas station was not only the wrong direction, but wouldn’t be open at this time of day. Only one option.
Gently, inch by painful inch, she set the truck in motion, drove carefully along the forestry track and, once onto the highway, speeded up well in excess of the posted maximum. At this hour on a Sunday morning, there was no traffic, and she made good time, turning into the driveway of the farm less than fifteen minutes after Philip awakened her.
Eleanor put the truck in bull low and drove it down the slope, pulling up just by the rose arbor. She swung the back door open and found Philip exactly as she had left him, David’s head cradled in his lap, his eyes still wide with fright. “All right, love?”
“That didn’t take a long time, Mom. I didn’t get scared and—how come we’re home?”
“You and I can look after Jeff here, honey., until help comes.”
“He’s talking funny, Mom!”
Eleanor held David’s head gently while her son slithered out from under. “That’s nothing to worry about,” she said evenly.
David thrashed around, his knees and ankles smashing into the side of the stove and the cabinets under the settee and table in this narrow little aisle. He flung his head from side to side, moaning and muttering. He couldn’t stay here.
“Why’s he talkin’ like that, Mommy?”
“He has a fever like I had, and I got better, didn’t I?” A reassured Philip would be a far more helpful Philip, and a busy Philip would be a boon to her. “I want you to go get the wheelbarrow for me and bring it here just as quickly as you can. Run!” Philip ran.
When he returned, the wheelbarrow bumping along in front of him, Eleanor smiled at him, hoping her mouth looked more cheerful than it felt. “Good boy, now go get that long board out of the orchard—the one we use to slide on when it’s frosty, and lean it up the front steps. It’s heavy, so if you can’t drag it, call me and I’ll help.”
A few moments later, Phillip, muddy and panting, came back “Got it, Mom.”
“Okay, open the door to the house.”
While Philip was doing that, Eleanor was busy herself. She dragged the inert weight of her husband to the door of the camper and rolled him as gently as she could into the wheelbarrow. Philip, who had just opened the front door, stood staring in amazement as his mother trundled the laden wheelbarrow across the lawn and, grunting with effort, got it up the board and right inside leaving a muddy wheel-track on the carpet. As she disappeared into her bedroom, he followed right behind her and was in time to see her lift the handles of the wheelbarrow high enough to roll his friend Jeff unceremoniously onto the bed.
“Philip,” Eleanor said quietly, “Take the key to the big house and go up and dial 9-1-1. Tell whoever answers where you live, and that your mom needs help with a man who might have the measles. Say he has a high temperature and isn’t conscious.”
Philip nodded uncertainly, and she said, “Can you remember all that? Tell me what you’re going to tell the person who answers.”
“My mom needs help for Jeff because he’s got a bad fever and maybe measles and he’s not… con…”
“Conscious,” she prompted, “but if you forget, that’s okay. Just tell the person where you live. At Barnes Dairy Farm on the 96.”
“Not conscious.”
“That’s right. We need an ambulance. Off you go and then come back right away.”
While her son was away Eleanor wrestled David’s clothing off him and tumbled him into the sheets she herself had so recently left. He tossed and turned, moaned now and then, and began shaking as if his bones were attached to a paint mixer. She held him when he tried to get up, at one point sitting on him and gritting her teeth as his fingers bit into her arms. All the while she talked, trying to get through to him.
“David, darling, don’t. Life still, David. I want to help you. You must stay in the bed. No! You can’t go until the ambulance comes.”
His eyes were wide open and staring wildly at her, but she knew it was not she he was seeing. Whoever—whatever—he saw in his nightmare world terrified as much as infuriated him and he fought to evade it. “Go away… Go away… Let me be! Let me die!”
“I will not let you die!” she shouted, sitting astride his heaving body.
He arched his neck and back, went still for a long moment. She watched the frantic beating of his heart as it pushed at the pulse-points in his throat, felt the fierce heat of his skin, and then he began to shake again, rattling even the bedside table until the clock tumbled to the floor.
Then he said, his tone almost conversational, “Why don’t you just leave me be?. I plan to die. They’re both dead, you see. So let me go. Let me go, let me go, let me go!” The last was an anguished, feral howl He convulsed sharply, his spine arching, his legs flailing, feet thumping on the mattress. He nearly tossed her off him, then his head lolled loosely on the pillow as he fell horrifyingly quiet again, but this time without the rigor of his convulsion.
“What was he saying, Mom?” Philip had come back, and by the look of terror on his face, had seen David’s contortions, heard the tortured words.
“It’s all right, Philip. He’s just having a nightmare like you used to have, remember. Is the ambulance coming?”
“Yes. I told the man that Jeff was sick and would they please come and help you make him better because he has measles and is real hot and he asked me if Jeff was big like me or little, and I told him Jeff was big like a daddy and he said they’d be there in a flash and the driver knows right where the farm is. I forgot to say he was consh—not consh—”
“It’s okay, hon. But I really need you to go back up there now and show them how to drive the ambulance down here to our house.”
“If Jeff’s havin’ nightmares you could sing to him like you did me. It made my bad dreams go away.”
“Yes, honey. I will. But now I want you to run back up to the farmhouse so you can tell the ambulance people how to get down here. They’ll need to drive where there’s no road, just our little path. Hurry, Phil. They’ll help us look after Jeff. He will be fine. And after they come I want you to go and feed Casey, then make yourself some toast or something. And don’t forget that Si will need some breakfast, too.” Whatever had to be done, she wanted Phillip out of the way, not frightened by medical procedures that to him might look horrendous.
He’d just run out to Casey when the convulsions started again, and Eleanor began to have serious doubts as to whether this was measles or something much, much worse. Again, David began to rant, to rage, and fight her in his attempts to leave the bed. Twice more, Philip came in, looking white and strained. Twice more she found chores for him to do and sent him back up to lead the way. It seemed like hours before she heard the siren, then saw the big cubical vehicle sway as the ambulance rolled down
the hill.
To Eleanor’s surprise, not only the paramedics arrived with the ambulance but Dr. Grimes came, too. “I happened to be in the neighborhood of the ambulance bay when the call came in,” he said. “And this was something I had to see—two adults in such a short time, at the same address, with a bad case of measles. But don’t you go getting into the habit of expecting house-calls. You know they don’t happen just for everyone.”
By the time Dr. Grimes had finished examining him David was shaking again, and muttering incoherently. The paramedics strapped him to a gurney to hold him still while they set up a drip, and tried to wheel him out.
“No, no,” he moaned. “Eleanor…” He clung to her hands, nearly cutting off her circulation and flailed around. objecting to being taken from her. “Don’t leave me.”
“David, darling, you have to let them help you. I’ll go with you. I will not leave you.” She spoke quietly but firmly and he seemed to calm. To Dr. Grimes, she said, “I can’t leave my son alone, but I need to be in the ambulance. Can you bring Philip with you in your car please? I’ll call the Exleys as soon as I think they’ll be awake.”
“Yes, of course,” the elderly doctor said. “The nurses will look after him until you can get someone to come. But when we get there I intend to get some of the answers I didn’t get when you were sick. Where in the world has your young man been all this time?”
A Father for Philip Page 17
