Laundry Lady's Love (Ladies of Sanctuary House Book 1)

by Sophie Dawson

  Libby laid her head on their clasped hands. “I promise, but, please, don’t make me keep it. Please, Lucy, fight and live for your babes.”

  ~~~~~

  Laura looked exhausted. Hank studied her as she did yet another load of sheets and rags. There seemed to be a never ending pile of linens. She washed and hung all the rags they were using to wipe down backs and chests, trying to lower the fevers. Then she started on the sheets. Once those were done, she started all over on the soiled ones brought down from the second floor.

  There weren’t enough clotheslines in the washroom to hold all that was being washed. The weather wasn’t cooperating to allow the outside lines to be used. Every day it rained off and on. Sometimes it was mixed with snow, sometimes ice. Never did the precipitation cease long enough to allow anything to dry.

  Hank went to Cutler’s store and bought hooks and line. He strung it across the end of the dining room after pushing the tables together, out of the way. No one was eating in there anyway.

  He’d heard that several children had died, as had a cowboy from a ranch nearby. Noah and several other men were burying the dead. There would be a memorial service once the epidemic had run its course. School had been canceled until further notice.

  Thankfully, the Cutler children weren’t in danger though all three had contracted it. Noah’s wife, Vernie, hadn’t come out of their apartment since the illness had struck the town. Their daughter was only ten-months-old. Leah Steele hadn’t either. Steven was only two months. Contracting measles that young was a death sentence. Eli was sleeping in his clinic rather than risk taking it home.

  “Laura, you have to take a break. You’re exhausted. Come, sit for a bit and rest. I’ll get you tea and something to eat. Blanche brought baked eggs and sausages. Fresh bread, too.” He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “These need to be done. I’ll rest once I get them hung up.”

  “No, now, I insist. It won’t hurt for them to sit a few minutes. It won’t change their drying time that much.” He took the rag from her hand and set it on the side of the washtub. “Come, sweetheart. For me.”

  Laura looked at him. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark rings beneath. Hank placed a hand on her cheek. It was hot, flushed. A fist clamped around his heart. She was sick. Burning up with fever.

  “Laura, you’re ill. I’m taking you upstairs and having Ruth put you to bed.” Hank scooped her up into his arms and marched to the stairs. He hadn’t been up on the second floor since he’d moved the beds around. She lay quiet, docile in his arms, her head falling to rest on his shoulder.

  “I’m coming up,” He yelled up the staircase. “Laura’s ill.” He could hear footsteps as he mounted.

  Ruth appeared, concern written all over her face. “Oh no. Bring her in here. She’ll have to stay in her own room. There isn’t space in the others.”

  Hank followed Ruth and set Laura down on her bed. She was crying, and it made his heart hurt even more.

  “I can’t be sick. I have to keep up with the laundry.”

  Hank knelt beside the bed. “Laura, I know I can’t do it as well as you, but I’m capable of washing sheets and rags. You need to stay in bed and get well.”

  “He’s right, Laura. You just let us take care of everything. You get well. Don’t worry about anything.” Ruth stroked Laura’s hair. She gave Hank a pointed look. “I need to get her into bed.”

  “Oh, right.” He stood and looked at the very sick woman he now knew he loved. If she made it through this, there was nothing that was going to stop him from making her his. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” Turning, he left the room, pulling the door shut as he went.

  In the hall stood Eddie in his nightshirt and socks. Fear and despair warring on his face.

  “Ma’s sick.”

  Hank knelt and drew Eddie into his arms. He thanked God that both of Laura’s boys were past the crisis. Their fevers had broken a couple of days ago. Though weak and still coughing, the rash was beginning to fade.

  “Yes, Eddie, she is.”

  “Is she gonna die?”

  A lump formed in his throat. Hank swallowed, trying to force it down. “She’s a strong woman. A fighter. What we can do is pray that her measles are mild. Can you do that?” He wrapped his arms around Eddie and picked him up. “Let me get you settled back in bed.”

  “Will you stay with me? I’m scared for Ma,” Eddie said as they entered the sickroom.

  Libby was sitting in a rocking chair with one of the twins sleeping on her lap. She nodded at his inquiring look.

  “Yeah, I’ll stay for a while. Somebody has to do the washing though, and that task seems to have fallen to me. I won’t leave the House though. I’ll be near enough to hear you call if you need me.”

  Hank’s heart nearly broke in two when Eddie started crying. When they sat on the bed, Mark came over and crawled up next to him. Hank wrapped an arm around him, too. What would he do if she died? He’d take these boys as his, that was one thing he was sure of.

  ~~~~~

  Libby sat beside Lucy whenever she wasn’t tending to the others sick in the House. Gema was recovering, though still weak. Laura was miserable with the fever and rash but trying very hard not to complain or be a burden.

  Libby prayed and begged Lucy to fight, but neither God nor the young woman seemed to be listening. She also spent every moment that either of the twins were awake with them. She’d rock and sing to whichever she held. Sometimes she’d have both babies in her lap. And, though they filled at least part of the empty space in her heart, Libby wanted them to have their mother get well.

  “Libby.” Lucy’s weak voice broke into her prayers.

  “Yes, Sweetie?”

  “Will you please get Pastor Preston for me? I want to talk with him a bit.”

  “Of course, I’ll be right back. I’ll send Hank to get him.”

  “Then bring Arleta and Jack in, will you?”

  Libby nodded. She had an inkling what Lucy was preparing to do. She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Hank sat at the table there with a cup of coffee held between his hands.

  “Hank.” Libby’s voice broke. She lifted a fisted hand to her mouth and bit on it to steady her emotions. “Lucy wants to talk with Pastor Preston. Will you, please, go get him?”

  Hank slowly set the cup on the table. “She’s given up, hasn’t she?”

  “Oh, Hank, she gave up days ago. I think she truly gave up the day of the attack. I’ve tried all I know to encourage her to fight, but…” Libby ran out of words.

  “I’ll be right back. Well, if he’s at the gun shop. If not, I’ll go and find him.”

  Libby watched Hank slip his arms into his coat, place his hat on his head and head out into the rain. She turned, went back upstairs and picked up Arleta, first, then Jack. Ruth watched as Libby carried the twins across the hall to visit with their mother.

  ~~~~~

  Noah sat in the gun shop staring out the front window. This was one of those getting through times. He’d buried seven people, five of them children. He dearly hoped and prayed he wouldn’t have to bury anymore.

  Hank hurried passed the window and opened the door entering the shop. “Pastor, you’re needed at the House.” The despondent expression didn’t bode well for why he was being called for.

  “Who?” was all Noah said. He understood what he was going to find when he arrived. Someone was either dead or dying.

  “Lucy Tanner. She’s been real sick, sicker than any of the others. The ladies say she won’t fight. That she’s given up.”

  Noah had already put on his coat. “Come on, let’s go out the back. Less time spent in the rain.”

  It wasn’t long before Noah was following Hank up the stairs, though his feet felt as if they were made of lead. Several of the children were gathered in the doorway to one of the rooms. Ruth stood next to Gema who was pale with the remnants of rash on her face. The young immigrant was in a dressing gown, her hands gripping the lapels
closed.

  Hank stopped at the door on the other side of the hall. “Libby, Pastor’s here.”

  Noah moved into the room. Libby stood from the chair she’d been sitting in. The curtains were drawn, and a lantern burned low on a side table. Lucy lay on the bed. She was nearly as pale as the white coverlet spread over her. The twins mirrored each other, snuggling close next to their mother’s sides.

  A heaviness settled on Noah’s shoulders. “Mrs. Tanner, Lucy, I’ve come as you asked. What can I do for you?”

  “Thank you. Once I finish my business, I’d like you to pray with me and read the twenty-third Psalm. First, though, I want you as a witness.” Lucy paused. She seemed to be struggling to breathe.

  Noah waited. She would continue when she was ready.

  “Libby, will you get Ruth, please.”

  Libby nodded and left, returning momentarily with Ruth.

  “I’ve always been told that the words of Scripture are for us to use as our own.” Lucy stroked the backs of each of her children. “Pastor, Ruth, I ask you to be witnesses. If there’s any time in the future you need to lend Libby support, you can testify my wishes and intent.”

  Libby started crying, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob. She moved near the head of the bed and laid her hand on Lucy’s shoulder.

  “Bend close,” Lucy instructed Libby. When Libby was kneeling, Lucy said, “Give me your hands.” When she had them, Lucy lay one on Arleta and one on Jack. “Children, behold your mother. Libby, behold your children.”

  Libby broke down crying and laid her head on the bed. “No, Lucy. Please get well.”

  “I’m not going to, Libby. I need to know you’ll take my babies.” Lucy stopped. Noah didn’t know whether she was struggling for breath or to contain her emotions. “You told me the other day you’d take care of my babies.”

  Libby nodded, sliding her head on the blanket. “I know. I will; you know I will. But…”

  “Shhh. It’s all right. I’m going to be with my Jesus and my Silas. You’re going to be such a good mother to my babes.” Lucy took a shuddery breath. She turned her focus to Noah and Ruth. “You heard my wishes. I don’t have a will, but I want the homestead to be sold. Anything over the mortgage is to go to Libby to help keep my babies.”

  “Of course,” Noah and Ruth said at the same time.

  “We’ll stand as witness to your wishes. Rest easy, Lucy,” Noah said.

  She gave a weak smile. “Thank you. God’s given me peace.” She lifted a hand and stroked Libby’s hair. “I haven’t known you very long, but you’re like a sister to me. I love you dearly.”

  Noah took his Bible from his coat pocket and opened it to the Psalm Lucy had requested. He didn’t need the book. He knew it by heart. In a calm, clear voice he recited the familiar words.

  ~~~~~

  In the early hours of morning, with her children nestled against her sides and Libby dozing in the chair close by, Lucy slipped into the waiting arms of her Savior.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lucy’s death cast a pall over the occupants of the House. Even the rest of the children and Gema on the rebound couldn’t totally dispel the sadness.

  Hank had gone to Massot and told him another casket needed to be made. The man had gone white and asked for whom. The color had come back into Massot’s face when he heard it was Lucy Tanner, making Hank wonder who the taciturn carpenter might be interested in.

  It better not be Laura. Hank had plans once she was fully over the measles. No longer was he going to be unsure or undecided about what, or rather who he wanted.

  Three days after Lucy’s death, Hank accompanied Noah to the cemetery. Chloe McIlroy, Blanche Basking, Myra Riverby, and Libby Trembly were all there. They stood silently as their friend was laid to rest. The others stayed with the recovering measles sufferers. Letters were sent to both Sanctuary Place and Nugget Nate’s ranch, delivering the sad news.

  Hank kept up his support of the House. He made sure the wood box was full. Gema was well enough to take over the laundry needs. They were lessening as more of the children improved.

  School wouldn’t start for another week to make sure everyone was well and strong enough to return. Hank had Eddie and Mark come over to the barbershop for an hour or two every day to keep them from being underfoot, now that they had their energy back.

  Eddie told him that his ma was not being a good patient. Ruth had to keep telling her to go back to bed. Mark added that she looked “really ugly” with the red rash all over her face. She had a “really big, ugly spot above her lip that looked like it just might explode like dynamite.” Hank bit his lip to keep from laughing.

  ~~~~~

  Laura was tired of being in bed. Her fever had finally broken, and the rash was beginning to fade. She’d taken a look at her face in the mirror once and quickly looked away. No need to see that again.

  She was nearly afraid to get out of bed and venture out into the hall. It seemed that any time she did, either Ruth or Libby was scolding her, taking her arm, and escorting her back to her room. No wonder everyone was so weak when the illness retreated, they’d been doing nothing for over a week and lost all their strength lying around in bed.

  Each day, Mark and Eddie would come running up the stairs, sounding like a herd of stampeding cattle, and swing through the doorway to jump onto her bed. They’d spent most of the afternoon with Hank and always had things they wanted to tell her.

  Eddie was back to his old self, enjoying being with the barber and learning about the trade. Mark was becoming interested, not in the barbering, but in other things appealing to a young boy.

  Hope began creeping ever so slowly into Laura’s heart. Maybe Hank would want a more permanent relationship with the boys. Even though he didn’t seem attracted to her, two impressionable young boys wanting his attention might give him pause to think favorably about a bond with her.

  Could she live with unrequited love? The question startled her when it parked itself in her mind. Love? Hank? Laura flopped back against the pillows. She was doomed. She was in love with Hank, but he didn’t return her feelings.

  Throughout the epidemic, Hank had been a bulwark; solid and stable supporting her as well as the others. He’d spent nearly every daylight hour at the House, normally by her side whenever she was downstairs. He’d carried water and wood, made coffee and tea. He went to the café and picked up the food the ladies there had prepared for those in the House.

  When Laura fell ill, Hank had taken over washing the laundry. At least the sheets, towels, and rags. He’d drawn the line at the unmentionables and diapers. Ruth said he didn’t prefer to do the nightgowns and nightshirts.

  Throughout the entire epidemic, Hank had endeared himself even more to Laura. His willingness to help with little or no thought of thanks showed character traits she wanted to develop in Eddie and Mark.

  Yes, she was doomed. Here was the man who sparked her heart with desire and love, yet he’d never once given any indication he felt anything more than friendship.

  ~~~~~

  Hank stood looking out his barbershop window. The weather had finally straightened up. They’d had three full days without rain so the street was dry enough mud didn’t cake on a man’s boots when he walked across.

  He’d heard that Laura was recovering. She wasn’t planning on taking in laundry until next Monday, but she was gaining strength every day. Hank had gone to the café for lunch and inquired. Now, he had to decide how he was going to proceed.

  The way courting a Sanctuary House lady was supposed to commence, the suitor had to get approval from the men Nate had charged with the task. Hank could do that, he supposed, but he wanted to do something a bit more unique. Something that would tell Laura he was declaring himself not as just a suitor but as someone who had fallen in love with her.

  Hank knew there wouldn’t be any trouble with approval from Pastor Preston and the other men. A while back, Ben Cutler had asked him why he hadn’t begun courting any o
f the ladies. Seems Hank was already approved, so now he needed to find a way to make Laura feel as special as he thought she was.

  Hank slipped into his coat and, taking the broom, went outside to sweep the boardwalk. Sheriff Newt Riverby was making his afternoon walk around town. He climbed the steps to the walk by the café, came near to where Hank was sweeping, and leaned against the building.

  “Afternoon, Hank. Weather seems to have sweetened a bit.”

  “Yep. Good to be able to walk out without getting drenched or your boots stuck in the mud.”

  Newt laughed. Then, he eyed Hank appraisingly. “How’s come you’ve never courted one of the ladies, Hank? You’ve got to know you’d be welcome to.”

  “Well, Sheriff, I was just thinking that myself. Would you be so kind as to arrange for you and the rest of the committee to come and meet with me here at the shop tomorrow morning, say at seven-thirty? That’s before we open our businesses and Doc the clinic. We’d be able to have a bit of a jaw about that there topic.”

  “You supply coffee and some of Almeda’s doughnuts, and I’m pretty sure I can arrange that,” Newt said.

  Hank laughed. “Can do, Sheriff. Can do.”

  Sheriff Riverby proceeded on his rounds, and Hank swept the entire length of the boardwalk, stopping in the café-bakery and ordering two dozen doughnuts for the next morning.

  ~~~~~

  The sun was shining, promising another lovely spring day. Hank had a large pot of coffee brewing on the stove with five mugs on the counter. He’d picked up the doughnuts. When Hank had slipped up and mentioned he was meeting with Pastor Preston, Sheriff Riverby, Doc Eli, and Ben Cutler, Almeda had broken into a huge grin and added another six doughnuts to the box.

  “That way you’ll each be havin’ six doughnuts apiece.” As she handed him the box, Chloe McIlroy and Blanche Basking, who partnered with Almeda in the business, came through the arched doorway between the bakery and café.