Shifted By The Winds

by Ginny Dye

  It was Biddy who slowly swung the door open. Her soft, wrinkled face was tightened into a mask of fear, her bright blue eyes shrouded with dread. “Carrie!” she gasped, reaching out a shaky hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to take care of whatever is wrong,” Carrie replied, grabbing both of Biddy’s hands, shocked by how cold they were. “What is going on?”

  Biddy stared into her eyes wildly. “It’s Faith. She’s sick.”

  “Cholera?” Carrie asked.

  Biddy nodded, seeming to shrink into herself even more once the word was out and floating through her house. “I’m afraid so.” Her voice trembled. “We never should have stayed when the cholera struck. It’s my fault.”

  “How long has she been sick?” Carolyn asked crisply.

  Carrie made rapid introductions. “We’re here to help, Biddy. I have medicine that will help Faith.” She knew they needed to move quickly.

  Biddy gazed at her, a tiny spark of hope breaking through the fear. “I thought there was nothing…”

  “I’ll explain later,” Carrie answered. “Take us to Faith.”

  Biddy turned and began to walk slowly. “She started feeling poorly yesterday afternoon. She insisted she was just coming down with a cold, but she got sicker last night.”

  “Is she vomiting?” Carolyn asked, tightening her lips when Biddy nodded. “Diarrhea?”

  “It just started about an hour ago,” Biddy whispered.

  Carrie’s heart swelled with sympathy, but she felt a powerful gratitude that what she carried could save Faith. “We can help her, Biddy,” she said confidently. She knew from reading the material from Dr. Strikener that Faith had moved beyond the first stage into the second stage, but they were still catching it early.

  “Will she have to go to the hospital?” Biddy asked, her blue eyes deepening with even more pain as she imagined it.

  “No,” Carrie replied quickly, knowing the stories coming back from the hospital must be horrifying. She stopped at the parlor and led Biddy to her chair. “We will take care of Faith, Biddy. She is going to get well,” she assured her, praying she was right—praying homeopathy did what the literature said it would do. “You wait here. I’ll come down with an update soon.”

  Biddy looked as if she wanted to protest but sank down in the chair gratefully, her eyes fixed on Carrie.

  Carrie took only long enough to remove the pitcher of water on the side table, thinking of Faith placing it there before she started to feel badly. “This isn’t safe to drink,” she announced. “I’ll bring you more soon.” Then she kissed the old woman on the cheek and led Carolyn upstairs to Faith’s room.

  Her heart sank when she walked in and saw Faith hovered over a bucket, vomiting clear fluid, her dark skin almost gray. “Faith!” She rushed to her side and held her head, taking the wet cloth Carolyn handed her. She wiped Faith’s face and bit back a cry of dismay when she saw how full of vomit the bucket was.

  “Carrie…” Faith whispered. “You…shouldn’t…be here…” she said weakly.

  Carrie helped her back to the bed and laid her down gently. “I’m here to help, Faith.”

  “Sick… Cholera…” Faith mumbled, her lips ashy with fever. “Go…”

  “I’m going nowhere,” Carrie answered. “You’re very sick, but you’re going to get better.”

  Faith shuddered. “No…Can’t…”

  “No more talking,” Carrie commanded, reaching for another pillow to put under Faith’s head. She was determined not to show how horrified she was at the severity of Faith’s illness. She could hear Carolyn unpacking the bottles of remedy as she got her friend settled. When Carolyn left the room, Carrie knew she had gone back for the box of water jugs Michael had promised to deposit on the porch. It was simply not safe to use any of the water in Moyamensing. Cholera was passed on through unclean water. It would do no good to put the veratrum into tainted, diseased fluid.

  Carrie stroked Faith’s head, covering her with another blanket to make sure she was warm. She was glad when the older woman closed her desperate, fevered eyes and sank back against the pillows, nearly disappearing into their silky, gray softness. Everything she had read said the vomiting and diarrhea would return quickly, unless…

  Carolyn strode into the room, carrying a large pitcher of water. She pushed aside the one on the table and handed Carrie a small bottle. “How much do you put in?”

  “Two or three drops,” Carrie replied, realizing her voice was a little shaky.

  Carolyn took hold of her hand. “We got here in time, Carrie. Faith is very sick, but she’s going to be fine.”

  Carrie gazed into Carolyn’s eyes. She saw nothing but a compassionate confidence that relaxed her immediately. “Thank you,” she said as she reached for the bottle of remedy. “I believe I should start with three drops.”

  “Why?”

  Carrie was glad she was being forced to concentrate on something other than Faith’s pallor. “Because she is already vomiting and having diarrhea, but mostly because the vomit has become a clear liquid. She is on the verge of dehydration, which could cause her organs to shut down. We need to stop it quickly.”

  “Good,” Carolyn replied, handing her a glass of water. “Put the remedy in. I will hold her shoulders up so she can drink.”

  Faith opened her eyes slightly, but gave no other sign that indicated she was being propped up. One hand fluttered like a wounded sparrow and then went still.

  Carrie added three drops of the remedy and stirred it quickly. “Drink as much of this as you can, Faith,” Carrie said. She tipped the glass, and Faith swallowed weakly. It took more than a minute for her to drink the liquid, but she got it all down and then closed her eyes again. Carrie continued to hold her hand, sinking gratefully into a chair Carolyn pulled next to the bed. The remedy should stop the vomiting almost immediately.

  “Breathe, Carrie,” Carolyn said as she came to stand beside her. “It will work.”

  Carrie was indeed holding her breath. She released it in a quick gasp, wishing she had thought to bring a watch with her. Every second that passed seemed like hours. Unwilling to look away even for a moment, she fastened her eyes on Faith’s face. If the remedy was going to work, she wanted to see the change. As she watched, she thought of all the people dying all over the city. Hope and anger warred in her heart. Hope that she could save many of the sick people in Moyamensing. Anger that so many were dying senselessly if it were true that the veratrum worked.

  She lost track of time, but she was immediately aware when Faith’s breathing eased. She stared in astonishment as the gray pallor began to disappear and the warmth returned to Faith’s hand. “It’s working,” she whispered. “It’s really working!”

  “It will take her some time to get her strength back,” Carolyn said, “but she will be fine.”

  Carrie gazed at Faith, almost unable to believe it when her even breathing said she was sleeping. “Will she need more veratrum?” she whispered. She held up the small bottle, amazed just three drops of the liquid had worked what she considered a miracle.

  “No,” Carolyn responded. “It has done its job. Now we have to get water back in her to fight the dehydration. And get good food into her when she is able to eat.” She stood and turned toward the door. “We need to check on Biddy now. Faith will sleep.”

  Carrie sprang up and hurried to the parlor.

  Biddy was sitting motionless, her eyes fixed on the door. “Faith?” Her voice quavered.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Carrie assured her. “She is sleeping now.”

  Biddy blinked, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “Fine…? How…?” She reached out and clutched Carrie’s hand as she shook her head. “It’s not possible. You must tell me the truth, Carrie.” Her voice was firm now.

  Carrie smiled and covered Biddy’s hand with both of her own. She understood Biddy’s reaction. The old lady was watching many people die on a daily basis. “I’m telling you the truth, Bi
ddy. Faith is going to be just fine. The vomiting and diarrhea have stopped.”

  “But how?” Biddy pressed, her hands still trembling. “So many are getting sick and dying. Just like it was in 1842.”

  Carrie’s gut tightened with anger again. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I will explain it all to you soon, but for right now just know there is a homeopathic remedy that will keep people from becoming sick, and it can also help most of the ones who are already ill.” Her voice sharpened with urgency as Carolyn pressed her shoulder. “But only if we can help them quickly,” she added. “There is no time for long explanations.”

  “The hospital?” Biddy said hopefully. “Can you help those people, too?”

  Carrie shook her head with regret. “I’m afraid they won’t let me try to help,” she replied. She wasn’t going to describe the horrific specter of death that hung over the hospital, but she suspected Biddy knew it all too well. “But we can save so many before they end up there, Biddy. Starting with you.”

  “Me?” Biddy shook her head. “I’m not sick.”

  “And you’re not going to get that way, either,” Carrie said. “When did you last eat?” She knew Faith did all the cooking.

  Biddy shrugged. “Yesterday sometime,” she said. “I haven’t been hungry.”

  Carolyn appeared beside Carrie with a pitcher of water and a bottle of camphor. “Give her this.”

  Carrie poured a glass of water and added five drops of camphor. “Drink this, Biddy”.

  Biddy reached for the glass and drank it down quickly. “Can I see Faith?”

  “In a little while,” Carrie promised. “She needs to sleep, and you have to eat something. In ten minutes I’m going to give you another glass of water.”

  “What are the drops you put in it?”

  Carrie remembered Biddy’s old dream of being a doctor. “Are you familiar with homeopathic medicine?”

  “I’ve heard something of it, but I can’t really say I know what it is.”

  Carrie nodded. “I would have said the same thing not too long ago. There is a lot I want to tell you, but first we want to help as many people as we can.”

  Biddy’s eyes lifted over Carrie’s shoulder as she nodded. “Who are you?”

  Carrie pulled Carolyn forward again, knowing Biddy had been too distraught to register the first introduction. “This is Carolyn Blakely. She is a student at the Homeopathic College here in Philadelphia.”

  “A different school than yours?” Biddy looked confused.

  “I’ll explain it all later.” Carrie needed to heed the urgency she felt. “I’ll be back with some food in a minute. And then I want you to take a nap.”

  Biddy stared at her. “Are you always so bossy?” she demanded, a smile flitting across her lips.

  Carrie smiled back. “Only with the people I love best.”

  She was cutting up some tomatoes for Biddy when she heard a soft rap at the back door. Moments later a young boy’s head appeared around the corner. He frowned when he saw her standing in the kitchen.

  “Who are you?” he demanded suspiciously as his eyes darted around the kitchen.

  “My name is Carrie Borden.”

  “Where is Faith?” he asked brusquely.

  Carrie felt a rush of warmth when she recognized his protective stance. “She’s been sick.”

  The boy’s eyes darkened. “She got the cholera? She gonna die?”

  “No. She is not going to die. She’ll be making cookies for you again soon.”

  “How come she ain’t dying?” the boy said. “Lots of people are dying.” His frown melted into quivering lips. “My daddy already died, and my brother has been throwing up all day. Mama made me leave the house.” His blue eyes were too old for the freckled face topped by rusty red hair. “Faith gonna die, too,” he said, suddenly looking exactly like the seven-year-old she guessed him to be.

  Carrie moved forward and squatted down. “She is not going to die,” she repeated as she smoothed the hair away from his sorrowful, knowledgeable eyes. “And neither is your brother. I want you to take me to your home in a few minutes.” She pulled him forward. “But first I need you to do something for me while I fix Miss Biddy some food.”

  She could tell the little boy didn’t believe her, but he was listening. “What do you need me to do?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Paddy.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Paddy. Do you know where Miss Biddy’s grandson, Arden, lives?”

  “Yep.”

  “Will you go to his house and tell him he needs to come help take care of Biddy?”

  “Yep.”

  Carrie bit back a smile when he didn’t budge. “Could you do it now?”

  Paddy cocked his head, considering. “You be here when I get back? And then you’ll come make my brother better?”

  “Yes,” Carrie promised, breathing a sigh of relief when Paddy instantly turned and vanished out the door. She heard pounding feet for a second, and then all was silent in the kitchen again. She finished fixing Biddy a meal of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden that Faith had carved out of the little postage stamp yard—all that was left of what had once been a magnificent farm. Then she quickly cut up potatoes and onions to join the rest of the vegetables she had prepared. The sound of Carolyn’s feet on the floor above accompanied her while she concocted a large pot of soup with some of the bottled water. Faith would need some nourishing food when she woke.

  Twenty minutes passed before she heard the sound of running feet. Moments later, Arden and Paddy burst through the door. Arden ground to a halt when he saw Carrie. “What is going on? Is Granny sick?”

  “No,” Carrie said, knowing that whatever Paddy had told Arden had probably scared him to death. “And she’s not going to be.” She waited for the fear in Arden’s eyes to die away. “Faith has been extremely ill. She is going to be fine, but she won’t be able to take care of Biddy for a while, and your granny is too tired and distraught to take care of herself. I’ve made her some food, and I have a pot of soup that will be ready in an hour or so. Can you stay here and take care of her?”

  Arden nodded. “Of course I will.” He paused. “Paddy said Faith had the cholera, but you said she is going to be fine…” His voice trailed away as he stared at her. “Why isn’t she dying like the rest?”

  “I’ll explain later,” Carrie said. She stepped to the table, poured two glasses of water, and added the drops of camphor to both of them. “Drink this.”

  Arden blinked, but did as he was told. Paddy stared at the water suspiciously.

  “It won’t hurt you, Paddy. It will keep you from getting sick.” Carrie waited until he drank it, pinching his nose closed first. She almost laughed as he screwed his face with distaste. The liquid was tasteless. She turned to Arden. “I want both of you to drink three more glasses in the next hour—one every twenty minutes. Add five drops of camphor to each glass.”

  Arden nodded. “I wish you had been as easy to get along with the night of the fire as I am right now.”

  Carrie chuckled, glad to have the humor to lighten the atmosphere. “Me too,” she agreed. “I’m going to have Paddy show me where he lives and then he will come right back here.”

  “Why do I have to come back?” Paddy demanded. “My little brother needs me,” he said, his eyes firing with protest.

  “He’ll need you tomorrow after he gets some rest,” Carrie said. “And so will your mama. Right now they’re going to need the house real quiet, and they need you to not get sick.”

  Paddy eyed the table. “And that stuff will keep me from getting sick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  Carrie remembered Faith’s almost instantaneous response to the veratrum. “I promise.”

  Paddy held her gaze for a long moment. “I’ll be back, Arden.” He headed for the door. “I’ll take you to my brother now.”

  Janie was waiting on the front porch when Carrie finally arrived
home long after dark had fallen. An almost sleepless night, followed by a very intense day, had her stumbling when she stepped down from the carriage.

  Janie ran down the stairs and steadied her just as Michael leapt off his seat to take her arm. “Carrie, are you okay?”

  “She’s had a long day,” Michael answered.

  Carrie squeezed Janie’s hand and turned to the lanky, dark-haired man. “Thank you, Michael.”

  Michael shook his head. “I’m the one to be thanking you, Mrs. Borden. If not for you, my sister and nephew would probably be dying in that hospital right now.” He tipped his hat. “You ever need anything at all, you just let me know,” he said.

  “I’m just glad they’re going to be okay,” Carrie murmured.

  Michael looked at her closely. “You sure you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning? You look like you need some rest.”

  Carrie nodded. “Absolutely. There is still so much to be done.” She pushed away the images filling her mind, knowing there was nothing else she could do until she had some rest and food.

  “I have dinner waiting for you,” Janie said as they walked slowly up the stairs.

  Matthew appeared at the door, his eyes darkening with concern when he saw Carrie, but he said nothing as he stepped back to let them enter. “I guess I really do have to share my soup with her, don’t I?”

  Carrie managed a smile, so very glad to be home. She wouldn’t have traded the day she had just had for anything, but she was aware she had nothing left to give. The sight of Matthew and Janie’s faces filled her with warm gratitude.

  Thirty minutes later, she could feel life ebbing back in. She pushed away the remnants of her third bowl of thick soup but continued to nibble on bread slathered with the apple butter Alice had made a few days earlier. She grasped the hot cup of tea Janie shoved toward her and finally leaned back in her chair.

  “Long day?” Janie asked.

  Carrie nodded. They had let her eat in silence. Now she felt ready to form words. “Yes,” she agreed, “but it was also one of the best days of my entire life.”