by A. J. Goode
Edward was standing at the foot of Robert’s bed, dramatically reenacting the scene from school that day while James sat on the pillow near his brother’s head, watching with open-mouthed fascination.
“That’s not what happened,” Robert sniffed. “I didn’t scream and fall down like that. I’m not a girl.”
“Do you know what I think your brother needs?” Victoria asked. “I think he needs a nice bouquet of daffodils for his nightstand. Edward, I’m putting you in charge of collecting them.”
“I c’n hep,” James told her.
“I’m counting on it,” she said.
Robert watched them go with relief obvious on his face. “Thank you, Mrs. Dawson,” he mumbled. “I s’pose you’re going to say I deserved this.”
“No, I won’t say that.” She resisted the urge to smooth his disheveled hair away from his face. He was really too old for that sort of thing.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t deserve to be hurt,” she said. “I wish you hadn’t been so disrespectful, and I hope you’ll behave better in the future, but I’m truly sorry you got hurt.”
He thought about that. “How did you know Seth faints when he sees blood?” he asked.
“I guessed it when I saw him go so pale.”
“Is that why you yelled at him to sit down?”
She nodded.
“But he was really awful to you, even worse’n me. Why didn’t you just let him fall?”
“Because I didn’t want to have to catch him!” she laughed. “Truthfully, Robert, he would have been terribly embarrassed if he’d fainted in front of everyone like that. I told him to sit down so he wouldn’t lose face in front of his friends.”
Robert thought some more. “You’re a pretty nice lady,” he finally announced, somewhat grudgingly.
“Why, thank you. And you’re a pretty nice young man. Don’t worry, though; I won’t tell anyone.” She stood and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Now, you get some rest while I go downstairs and try to keep the little ones out of Hannah’s way. She’s making something in the kitchen that has me a bit worried. Bitter-something.”
“Bitterballen? She’s making me bitterballen?” He grinned hugely. “I should have cut my hand open months ago!”
“Perish the thought.” Victoria smiled and left him then, tiptoeing down the stairs just as she heard a sharp knock at the door. “I’ve got it!” she called out to Hannah. She paused to smooth her skirt and tucked a few loose strands of hair back into their knot before opening the door.
Will Baxter stood there, glowering. “What the devil is going on in that classroom?” he demanded. “How did one of your students end up needing his hand stitched together on your watch?”
“Why, hello, Will,” she said smoothly. “How nice to see you. Won’t you come in?”
“It’s not funny, Victoria. I’ve had parents coming into the store all afternoon to complain. Do you have any control over your students?”
“Of course I do,” she told him.
“Then explain yourself.”
She turned and led the way to the parlor, doing her best to swallow her rage. “Now,” she said, perching on the edge of a delicate wingback chair. “What, exactly, is it that you would like me to explain?”
He looked uncertainly at the other wingback chair and seemed to decide against it. “I hear talk,” he said. “You sent Seth Conway home the first day because you couldn’t control him. Today, I hear you sent the VanDam boys home early, and then the Visser boy nearly bled to death on your watch. What am I supposed to think?”
“Robert hardly ‘bled to death’,” she chuckled. “He gashed his hand quite badly, but Nellie Conway --”
“Why did he have his pocket knife out in the first place? And what about the VanDam boys? Surely you’re not going to tell me they were misbehaving.”
“Gerrit is sick,” she explained. “He said his throat hurt, and he felt feverish to me. I thought it best to get him away from the other children, and it seemed safest to have Joris go with him.”
Will’s face changed at the mention of Gerrit’s name. “He’s sick? I didn’t know --”
“No, you didn’t., Mr. Baxter,” she said, emphasizing his formal name. She opened her mouth to explain what had happened to Robert, but closed it again as Will’s gaze met hers. His anger was gone, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like regret.
“Then tell me about what happened, Victoria,” he said gently. He reached for her hand, but she jerked it back out of his reach.
She looked up into those soft, warm brown eyes once more and shivered. I could drown in those eyes if I’m not careful, she thought.
“I believe I just told you what happened,” she snapped, rising to her feet. “Gerrit was sick, so I sent him home. Robert had his pocket knife out when he shouldn’t have, and I sent for help when he hurt himself. In other words, Mr. Baxter, I did the job that you hired me to do. I don’t appreciate your interrogating me over every tiny detail. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do. You may show yourself out.”
And with that, she stalked out of the room before Will could respond.
Chapter 13
Will sent David off to school the next morning with strict instructions to report back to him about any problems with the teacher. “If she sends anyone home early, I want to know about it,” he reminded the boy.
“Pa, she’s a good teacher,” he protested. “School isn’t all that bad with her. Seth and Neil and Robert aren’t picking on me ‘n my friends any more, and Phoebe Foote only cries two or three times a day now.”
“But are you actually learning anything?”
David shrugged. Will just sighed and let him leave. In truth, he’d watched his son work his way through a stack of homework each night with very few complaints, and he’d even noticed a marked improvement in some of the math work. As much as Will hated to admit it, the young widow really seemed to be doing a good job, even with only nineteen students.
Sixteen, he reminded himself. Gerrit VanDam still hadn’t returned after being sent home on Monday. His sore throat and fever had only gotten worse, and now his brother Joris was staying home with some of the same symptoms. Caleb Stuart was also staying at home with a cough and sore throat.
Will fought back a flicker of unease. Sore throats and fevers were common this time of year, especially when the weather bounced back and forth from sunny and warm one day to frigid the next. He just wished David hadn’t spent so much time with the VanDam brothers in the weeks before they became sick.
He looked up, startled, when the door to his shop opened. Customers were rare this early in the day.
It was Adam, looking grim. “Is there anyone else here?” he asked in a low voice.
“No, it’s just me. What’s wrong?”
Adam hesitated. “Pieter VanDam has asked me to ride to Gobleville for the doctor,” he said quietly.
“Gerrit is worse?” Will shook his head. Poor little Gerrit seemed to be doomed by bad luck.
“He’s got the rash, Will. They thought it was sunburn at first after he was outside all weekend, but now the sore throat and fever . . .” Adam’s voice trailed off.
Will clutched at the counter in front of him, suddenly dizzy as his friend’s words sunk in.
“We’ve got to keep it quiet until we know for sure,” Adam said, after a moment. “If it’s scarlet fever, there’ll have to be quarantines. We may be able to stop it from spreading.”
“David was fishing with Gerrit and Joris all weekend, Adam.”
“So was Sophie.”
The stared bleakly at each other for a long minute.
“Keep it under your hat,” Adam finally said. “We don’t want to start a panic. I only told you because, well . . .” his voice trailed off again, but both men knew what he was thinking.
Melanie.
# # #
The hours crept by for Will. He forced himself to smile at his customers and did everyth
ing in his power to act as though everything was normal, but nothing was normal. Not today. Not until Adam returned with the doctor and they knew for sure what was wrong with Gerrit and Joris.
Not scarlet fever, Lord, he prayed, over and over. Anything but scarlet fever. Anything.
“Is everything all right, Will?” Nellie Conway asked him, sliding her purchases across the counter. “You seem distracted.”
“Sorry.” He smiled. “Pink flannel and thread? Is there some good news in the Conway family?”
She laughed. “No, I think not. This is for the little one that Grace and Rich Anderson are bringing home. Didn’t you know? They went to meet the Orphan Train.”
“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten. How can you be sure they’ll get a little girl?”
“I’m hoping.” Nellie stroked the soft pink fabric. “Grace needs a girl to help her get over the pain of losing her little Angela. God willing, they’ll be a family now.”
“God willing,” he repeated. God willing, they won’t bring a helpless little baby into a town riddled with scarlet fever.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked again.
“I’m fine.” He wrapped her purchases and made change for her. When he held the door for her, they both stopped and listened.
“There’s the train,” she said. “I wonder if they’re on it with the wee one.”
Will’s smile was genuine this time. Nellie Conway was a kind woman, but she was also an incurable gossip who couldn’t bear the idea of missing out on any possible news in town. “Would you like to come back inside and have a cup of tea while you wait for the train?” he asked her. “I just got in a shipment of tea all the way from England.”
“That would be lovely,” she agreed. “If I like it, I may have to buy some. Mr. Conway does love a good strong cup of tea.”
Will stepped into the small kitchen area in the back of his store and set about brewing the tea. He was more of a coffee drinker himself, but he tried to keep a steady supply of tea in his store for his neighbors who preferred it. Nasty stuff, he thought, sniffing the bitter-smelling brew.
Nellie didn’t seem to think so. She closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma before taking a small sip. “Delicious!” she declared.
He was spared having to answer because the door opened just then.
His son stood there, looking miserable.
“David? What’s the matter, son?”
“It-it’s my throat, Pa,” he said, his voice sounding raspy. “It hurts real bad when I swallow. Mrs. Dawson said I should go home. Phoebe’s sick, too --”
“Stick out your tongue,” Nellie told him. He obeyed, and Will watched the color drain from her face. “Strawberry tongue,” she breathed. “Will, do you know what that means?”
He could only nod.
Scarlet fever.
Chapter 14
Victoria’s hands trembled as she wiped the words from the chalkboard. First, it had been Gerrit. Then Joris and the little Stuart boy. Now David and Phoebe. Her students were getting sicker by the day, and she didn’t know what to do.
I should close the school in case it’s scarlet fever, she thought. Send them all home so no more get infected. Or perhaps I’m just be overreacting to nothing more than a common cold. Lord, please show me what to do.
She turned back to the classroom and tried to smile. “All right, let’s start on to our Arithmetic. Everyone get out your homework and -- yes, Micah?”
“May I get a drink of water, Mrs. Dawson?”
“Yes, go ahead.” She frowned. He looked every bit as miserable as his friend David had looked just before she sent him home. His face was flushed, and he grimaced in pain when he swallowed. “Micah, are you feeling all right?”
“Yes’m, it’s just my throat. And my head hurts something fierce.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
He shrugged.
Victoria felt like crying. He hadn’t said anything sooner because he didn’t want to miss school, she knew. He was getting the highest scores out of all the students at his grade level, and he was afraid of losing that spot if he missed any school. Lord only knew how long he’d been feeling under the weather without saying a word to anyone.
“Gather your things, Micah. You need to go home,” she sighed. “Robert, please help him.”
Robert grumbled, but did as he was told. He helped his brother into his coat and handed him the lunch pail they all three shared. “Do I hafta go with him?” he asked.
She hesitated. Under normal circumstances, Micah was more than capable of looking after himself. But these were not normal circumstances.
Suddenly, he lurched toward the door and made a horrible retching sound. Before anyone could react, he dropped to his knees and vomited on the floor.
“Ewww!” Robert flung himself back, away from the mess. Some of the younger children began to whimper, and the older ones made noises of disgust as the stench filled the small room.
For just a moment, Victoria closed her eyes and tried not to breathe it in.
“I’m sorry,” Micah wailed.
“Shhh, it’s all right,” she told him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Startled, she yanked her hand back when she felt the heat radiating from his body. Dear God, he’s burning up!
“That’s it,” she announced, arriving at a decision. “I want everyone to gather up your things and go home. Go directly home. Do not stop to play with friends or visit anyone on the way. School is dismissed until further notice.” Will is going to send me away for this, she thought. Well, he is welcome to go right ahead and do so, then. These children need to go home before any more of them get sick.
She left her charges for a moment to go fetch a pail of water and some rags. One of her students opened the window, for which she was extremely grateful.
The children were more subdued than she had expected. They gathered their things quietly, murmuring among themselves and casting sidelong glances at Micah while she tried to clean up his mess. One by one, the stepped around him and filed out the door. “Remember,” she called out, “Go directly home and stay there.”
Soon, it was just Victoria and the three Visser children, and Seth Conway, who stood in the doorway shuffling his feet. “This may take me a while,” she told Robert. “Go ahead, unless you think you’ll need help with him.”
“I don’t need help. I’m the man of the family,” he assured her. He hauled his brother to his feet and wrapped his good arm around him. Micah groaned.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Seth twisted his hat in his hands. “I can help.”
She tried not to let her mouth fall open in astonishment.
“My brother’s got Asa and Abby,” he stammered. “Rob can’t do much with his hand hurt. I want to help. Besides, I already had scarlet fever when I was a kid.”
She flinched when he spoke the dreaded disease out loud. Robert paled visibly. He nodded jerkily and relinquished his brother’s weight to his friend. Micah groaned again, mumbling something unintelligible. Nearby, Edward started crying.
“Shut it,” Robert snapped. He sounded angry, but the worry on his face was clear. He looked questioningly at Victoria. “It’s just a cold, right, Mrs. Dawson? Micah’s just being a big baby, that’s all. It can’t be scarlet fever.”
“I don’t know.” She buttoned Edward’s coat and cast one more glance around the school room. “All right, then, go home. Let Hannah know I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”
She hurriedly scrubbed away the last of the mess and stepped outside to dump the dirty water. While outside, she saw Adam ride past on one of his big black horses, leaning forward in his saddle to urge the animal into a gallop.
No, not Caroline or the twins, she pleaded silently.
Back inside, she closed the window and gathered her belongings before looking around the room once more. It felt like a farewell of sorts.
Chapter 15
Hannah was surprisingly calm when Victoria reached home. “A
dam brought the doctor back from Gobleville,” she announced, bustling about in the kitchen. “He hasn’t been here to look at Micah yet, but it’s scarlet fever, Victoria, I know it is, and so do you. I want to keep the others away from Micah if possible, especially James. Mama always said it’s worse when it hits the little ones.”
Victoria nodded. The dreaded disease seemed strike more young children than adults, although no one was safe in an outbreak.
“What do you need me to do?”
Hannah paused, and Victoria realized that the girl’s hands were trembling. “I’m making him some broth,” she said. “I have to stay busy or I’ll fall apart. Can you sit with him? He’s sleeping now, but I -- I don’t want him to be alone.”
“Of course.” She gave her a quick hug and hurried up the stairs with a basin of cool water and a cloth.
Micah was sleeping restlessly in the big bed he usually shared with his older brother. His face was flushed and damp with sweat, and the front of his nightshirt was already soaked through. He coughed raggedly in his sleep and then whimpered.
“Shhh,” she told him. Drawing up a chair, she dipped her cloth in the cool water and bathed his face with it. His restlessness eased a bit.
“You’re a very foolish boy,” she told him, re-wetting the cloth and resting it on his warm forehead. “I know you want to seem as grown-up and brave as your big brother, but just between you and me, I think he’s just as frightened as you are.” He wouldn’t hear her words, she knew, but her voice seemed to soothe him.
She told him about her home in Port Huron and about watching the boats on the St. Clair river. Later, after she and Hannah tried unsuccessfully to spoon some beef broth down his throat, she talked some more about any subject that popped into her head. Finally, she ran out of things to say and settled on singing hymns to him as she watched the light from the setting sun slide down the wall.
