Whispers of Winter

by Tracie Peterson

  “Leah, what’s wrong?” It was Jacob. She looked up to see him standing only a few feet away. He reached for her, but she shook her head.

  “Don’t. The babies are sick and may have influenza. We don’t know. They’re burning up with fever, though. You should probably move Helaina and the baby to your cabin. I’m so sorry.”

  “The doctor is seeing her and the baby right now.”

  “Good. I pray they’re all right. There’s no telling what they’ve been exposed to.” Her voice broke, and she began to cry again.

  Jacob ignored her protests and pulled her into his arms. “Leah, please don’t worry. I’ll take care of Helaina and Malcolm, but is there anything I can do for you—for the children?”

  “No. Nothing. This just couldn’t have come at a worse time.” She pushed away from him and regained her composure. She hurried to pour water into a small tub. “I didn’t know they were sick. When Helaina got closer to delivering, I put them to bed. They were so tired and while they were feverish, I thought they were only teething.”

  “How are they now?”

  “Much worse. The fever is high, but the doctor said their lungs are clear. He’ll be back this afternoon to check on them.”

  She found the vinegar and poured a generous amount into the tepid water. “I have to go.” She started to lift the tub, but Jacob took hold of the bath and motioned her to the room. “Go on. I’ll bring this.”

  Leah saw little change in the twins’ condition throughout the day. The doctor came again and left without any word of encouragement. She sat rocking and praying, never feeling more worthless in her life.

  Why can’t I make them well? Why did this have to happen? They’re just little babies. She gently pushed back the hair on Merry’s forehead. Her fever still raged. Why wouldn’t it come down? Merry seemed so pale—so still. Leah lifted the baby into her arms and rocked her. Tears blurred Leah’s vision. The thought of losing her daughter was more than she could bear.

  “Please, God, please don’t take her away from me. Don’t take Wills. I love them so much.” She thought back to her worries of old—of whether the children were Jayce’s or Chase’s. None of that would ever matter again. Never. They were hers. They were more important to her than Leah could have ever imagined.

  She rocked Merry until her arms could no longer bear the weight. Carefully tucking the baby back in bed, Leah leaned down and kissed each of them on the head. Neither stirred, and her heart constricted as she realized her babies might die and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  “Oh, God, show me what to do.”

  She sat by their side through the night and into the day; Jayce joined the vigil from time to time. As Leah dozed she thought of life in Last Chance Creek. She still hadn’t heard from Emma or Sigrid. She was desperate to know if they were well or sick, dead or alive. She wondered if Emma sat beside her babies, feeling the same hopelessness that threatened to strangle the life out of Leah.

  In her dreams, Leah was taken back to working with an old Tlingit woman who had taught her much about healing. She watched the woman work, tearing the leaves of a large palmy plant.

  “Use the skunk cabbage leaves, Leah. You won’t cut your hands on devil’s club if you do.”

  Leah reached for the protective skunk cabbage, then took hold of the devil’s club, with its razor-sharp spiky spine. They used this plant for all kinds of ailments. Karen even called it Tlingit aspirin.

  Leah awoke with a start. Her heart pounded hard, as if she’d just run miles and miles behind a dogsled team. She struggled to focus on the dream and the thoughts that had awakened her.

  “Tlingit aspirin. Devil’s club!” She jumped to her feet and stopped only long enough to check on Wills and Meredith. They seemed less feverish, but she thought perhaps it was her own wishful thinking.

  “Jayce, are you here?” she questioned, coming into the living room. She had no idea how long she’d slept.

  “What is it? Are they worse?” Jayce came from the stove, where Leah could see he was busy cooking something.

  “No. They’re the same. Look, I have to get some devil’s club. It’s a remedy for fever and pain. I dreamed about it just now and remembered it from the old days in Ketchikan. I think it’s exactly what we need.”

  He touched her face and nodded. “Go. I’ll be here.”

  Adrik breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of his sons. They were sitting on the dock, waiting … watching. He’d been told by local officials of two boys who were seeking work on the docks. The police officer had tried several times to speak with the boys, but they always seemed to run away before he could catch up with them. Adrik shook his head. He wasn’t at all sure why they’d come here or why they wanted to get jobs on the boats. But none of that really mattered right now; they were safe. They were alive.

  He didn’t want to frighten them, so Adrik called to them, hoping that the distance would give them a chance to accept his presence.

  “Oliver. Christopher.”

  They turned and looked at him momentarily before lowering their heads in complete dejection. Adrik sat beside them, wondering how he could possibly explain to them how worried he’d been—how wrong they were to leave.

  “I’m sorry, Pa,” Oliver offered first. “Please don’t be mad. This is all my fault. Christopher just came because I told him to. Don’t be mad at him.”

  “I’m not mad, son. I was just so scared.”

  Oliver looked up. “You?”

  Adrik nodded. “I couldn’t find you. I thought I’d lost you for good.”

  “Like Mama?” Christopher asked.

  “I have to admit,” Adrik said softly, “that I was afraid you might get killed.”

  “Sorry,” Oliver offered again. He hung his head and refused to meet his father’s gaze.

  “Boys, I don’t understand why you’re here. I don’t understand why you ran away.”

  “We’re going home,” Christopher offered.

  “Home?”

  “To Ketchikan. To our real house,” Christopher replied.

  Adrik shook his head. He didn’t understand any of this. “But why?”

  “It’s my fault.” Oliver drew a deep breath. “I don’t like Ship Creek. I don’t like the railroad. You’re never home and we’ve got no friends.”

  “And it’s where Mama died. It killed her there,” Christopher added.

  Adrik had known the boys had disliked Ship Creek, but he had hoped they would adapt. But he realized now, with their mother gone, they felt even more alienation toward the place.

  For several minutes neither boy said a word, then Oliver looked up. There were tears streaming down his face. “I can’t remember Mama’s face. Sometimes I do, then it’s like she disappears and there’s just this cloud around her.”

  “There are pictures of her at home in Ketchikan,” Christopher said, his lower lip quivering. “Can’t we go home, Papa? I was never afraid there.”

  Adrik realized there was so much he didn’t know about his boys and what they were thinking and feeling. He felt like a failure for not understanding their need. “Come here, boys,” he said, opening his arms to them. Christopher came immediately and hugged his father tightly.

  Oliver was slower to respond. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and coughed. “I’m too big for you to hug.”

  “Never,” Adrik replied softly. “Even big guys need a hug now and then.”

  Oliver considered this for a moment, then edged over to his father. Leaning hard against Adrik, Oliver buried his face against his father’s neck. Adrik felt the heat of his son’s body.

  “Oliver, are you sick?”

  “We slept outside last night. It was cold.”

  Adrik put his hand to Oliver’s head as the boy began to cough again. “Come on, guys. We’re going to get a room at the hotel and see if we can’t get you both warmed up.”

  “And then we’ll go home?” Oliver asked.

  Adrik held them both at
arm’s length. “I promise you this—we’ll go back to Ketchikan as soon as I can get things settled in Ship Creek. We’ll definitely go home before the summer is out, but for now we have to get you well and then go back to take care of business. Will that be all right?”

  Oliver straightened and looked his father in the eye. “You promise we’ll move back to Ketchikan?”

  Adrik nodded. “I promise.”

  Later that night, long after the boys had fallen asleep, Adrik sat watching and listening to them breathe. Oliver would break into a spell of coughing from time to time. The deep, hacking cough worried Adrik more than he wanted to admit.

  “But they’re safe,” he whispered. He’d been so afraid; they were too young to understand all of the dangers, but Adrik knew them only too well. He could never have forgiven himself if something had happened to them.

  Tears came to his eyes as he thought of Karen and how hard it had been these last few months without her. He had never had a chance to say all the things he had wanted to say. He had never given her all of the attention he’d wanted to give. So many times he’d wanted to take her away and share some quiet moments alone, but always life got in the way and he’d put it off for another day.

  “But there will never be another day,” he whispered. “You’re gone. You’re gone and I’m here, and nothing will ever feel the same—nothing will ever be quite as good.” He looked up to the ceiling, knowing he wouldn’t find her there but feeling somehow comforted to just imagine Karen smiling down from heaven.

  “I don’t know why you had to die. You were my everything … and now I just feel so empty. So lost.” He forced back a choking sob. “Oh, Karen, I miss you so much.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  June arrived with mixed blessings. The devil’s club tea seemed to do the trick in bringing down the twins’ fever. They were still sleeping a great deal, but as their second birthday arrived, the doctor pronounced them out of danger. Leah had never heard words that meant more to her.

  “We’ve had another telegram from Adrik. He said the devil’s club is helping Oliver, and Christopher seems immune to whatever the sickness is. Oliver is much better and they hope to be back here in less than a week,” Jayce announced, holding up the telegram.

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” Leah picked up a tray of partially eaten food and glanced at her sleeping babies. “The doctor said the twins will be up and running before we know it. He’s so happy with their progress that he’s asked me to help him with some other patients.”

  “What did you tell him?” Jayce eyed her curiously.

  “I told him I would make devil’s club tea for him, but that I had a responsibility right here. He agreed and was happy for the tea.” She smiled and went to deposit the tray in the kitchen. “Of course,” she added, “he can hardly believe that such a vicious plant could prove so helpful. He told me only three weeks ago he had to treat a poor man for a leg infection after having a run-in with devil’s club. Now it seems everyone will be singing its praises.”

  Jayce came to her and pulled her into his arms. “I feel as though the world has been quite mad for the last few weeks.”

  Leah nodded. “I don’t honestly know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry for the trouble the railroad had without you and Adrik helping with the regular meat supplies, but I am so blessed that you were here.”

  “Jacob handled it well. He hired a team of dock rats down in Seward. They’ve managed quite well. Well enough, in fact, that Jacob is thinking of leaving the business once Adrik is back to run things. I’m thinking of leaving as well.”

  “And then what?” Leah asked, looking up into his eyes.

  “I don’t know. Jacob has asked me to consider going into the mercantile business with him, as you know. I’m definitely considering it. This seems like a good place to set up such a thing. People are moving in by the hundreds. The railroad officials told me they believe there to be some four thousand men here. Most are working in some capacity for the railroad.”

  “That’s incredible. I knew there were more people than when we first arrived—more permanent structures too. That’s always a good sign. Soon we’ll have all the things any other town could offer us.” Leah put her arms around Jayce’s neck. “But you know it doesn’t matter. I’ll go with you anywhere and be happy with whatever you choose to do for a living.”

  A rap came at the front window. Leah and Jayce looked to find Jacob waving something at them. They’d been careful to have as little contact with the rest of the family as possible. Leah was desperate that Malcolm and Helaina, as well as Jacob, should stay well and free of the influenza.

  “Mail,” Jacob called. “I’ll leave it at the door.”

  “Thanks!” Leah replied. She could hardly wait to see who had written. She prayed daily for news from Last Chance, having decided that it was far worse not to know their fate than to have to face the truth. She waited until she was certain Jacob would be well away from the door before opening it.

  There was probably no longer a need for quarantine, but Leah couldn’t see pushing things too fast.

  There were two letters, and both were addressed to Leah. One was from Grace Colton. The other was from Emma Kjellmann. Leah clutched them to her breast. “Emma has written!”

  “Well, maybe now we will finally know what has happened,” Jayce said, taking a seat at the table. “Why don’t you come here and read it to me? We’ll share whatever news together.”

  Leah closed the door and came to the table. “I’ve waited so long for this, but now I’m afraid.”

  “God already knows what’s happened,” Jayce replied. “What’s happened is done—we cannot change it. If the news is bad, we’ll face it together.”

  Leah opened the letter and drew a deep breath. “‘Dear Leah and Jayce,”’ she began. “‘The news from Last Chance is bad. I’m not sure if you’ve heard anything of our area, so forgive me if this repeats what you already know. Around Christmas last year there were rumors of sickness in Nome and along the coast. We didn’t think much of it.

  “‘I was of course busy with my newest addition to the family, little Samuel. He was born in November, with Qavlunaq and Kimik’s son Adam being born nearly two weeks earlier. Christmas seemed all the more special with new babies in our congregation, but soon tragedy struck.”’ Leah looked up at Jayce momentarily, then continued reading.

  “‘Several men returned from Teller to give us the news that the village was full of sickness. We had word come from other villages as well. It seemed no one was sure what had caused the sickness or how to treat it. It started with high fevers and labored breathing. Sometimes fierce coughing developed and sometimes the person just seemed unable to breathe at all. Most were delirious from fever and often unconscious for the duration of their illness. Leah, it was unlike anything we’d ever seen—not even the measles epidemic we’d suffered so long ago could compare. People began dying without even seeming all that sick. They would go to bed feeling poorly and be dead by morning. I nearly lost Bjorn and Sigrid, but they miraculously pulled through. Rachel and Samuel did not.”’ Leah gasped. “Oh no, not the babies. Oh, poor Emma.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she continued. “‘Kimik died on the third of January and was soon followed by Oopick.”’ Leah could hardly bear the news. Oopick was gone, and Kimik too.

  “‘So many you loved are gone,”’ she read from Emma’s shaky handwriting. “‘The village had so few people left that we considered heading south to Nome for the remainder of the winter. However, word came that Nome was suffering and the few remaining did not wish to risk getting sick, so we remained here to wait out the winter or at least until we heard that the quarantines were lifted.

  “‘But what started as an overwhelming situation became even worse.”’ Leah shook her head and looked again to Jayce. “I don’t see how it could be worse.”

  “I suppose you should read on,” her husband encouraged.

  Leah looked to the lette
r. “‘Government officials from Nome showed up here as soon as passage could be made. With them came the news that many villages had been wiped out— that there were now many orphans as well as widows and widowers. The man told the villagers that there were no orphanages for the children and that the people would have to see to adoption. To facilitate this, he further forced the remarriage of those who were now single. Leah, it was awful. People still grieving for their unburied dead were forced to agree to marriage. The men were given the choice of picking a wife from amongst the remaining women in the village. If there were no women, they were told they would have to accompany the men to another village and find a wife there.

  “‘Poor John and Qavlunaq were beside themselves. Neither had any desire to marry again, but because of the officials forcing the matter, they agreed to wed each other. John said he would never treat Qavlunaq as anything other than the daughter-in-law she was, and Qavlunaq stated she would always care for John as the father of her husband. Still, they are legally married and have taken on two orphaned girls from a village near Nome to raise with Qavlunaq’s two sons—both of whom I’m happy to say survived the epidemic.”’

  Leah turned to the second page and continued in stunned sorrow. “‘Of course, Bjorn did not approve these forced marriages, but the officials didn’t care. They had come armed with a sheaf of marriage licenses already filed and filled out with exception to the actual names of the couple and the date of their marriage. After leaving our village, the group was headed to Teller to impose the same thing on those poor unsuspecting souls. I’m so very glad you did not stay here to see this abomination. Bjorn and I will be leaving with the children and Sigrid at the end of the month and heading for a sabbatical with my family in Minnesota. I doubt seriously that we will return to Alaska. Our hearts are so completely broken at the loss of Rachel and Samuel, as well as all of our dear friends. I pray the situation has boded better for you in your part of the territory. I have not heard of sickness in your area; however, as usual we have not had much news of any kind.