by A. J. Goode
A sudden tapping on the door stirred her. “Edward’s sick now, too,” Hannah said from the doorway, her voice faint. “I’ve tried to send James and Robert away to spare them, but no one will take them.”
“Oh, Hannah. No. No one?”
“No one. They’re all too afraid.” She stepped further into the room, gazing down at Micah. “It’s not right for him to be so still, Victoria. He’s never still. He needs to jump up and shout see? I fooled you! Wasn’t that a grand joke?”
“Hannah --”
She waved away the sympathy. “I’ve put Edward to bed in my room and sent Robert and James to bed in the little ones’ room. Edward doesn’t seem to be as bad off as this one.” She swiped at her eyes determinedly. “There is some cheese and bread on the table if you’re hungry. I’m sorry it’s not a real meal, but --”
“Don’t be silly. Have you eaten?”
“A bit. I -- I’d like to sit with Micah now, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. I’ll tend to the others and check in on you later.” Impulsively, Victoria hugged her again before leaving her alone with him.
In the kitchen once more, she forced herself to eat a few bites to keep up her strength, but she had no appetite. She quietly put the food away and cleaned up after herself. Later, she went back upstairs to peek in at the sick children and satisfy herself that all were resting peacefully. A bit too peacefully, she thought as she looked down at Micah.
Hannah gave her a wan smile.
Victoria headed back downstairs when she heard a light tapping at the door.
“Forgive me for dropping by so late,” Simon DeVries told her, his bulk filling in most the doorframe. “I -- I just heard that the boys are sick. Is -- is Hannah sick too?”
Victoria was too tired to smile. “No, Simon. She’s taking care of her brothers.”
He didn’t even try to hide the relief on his face. “Tell her not to worry about any of the boys’ chores until they’re better,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything. You’ll tell her that, won’t you?”
“She’ll be glad to hear that. That’s very kind of you. Say,” she had a sudden thought. “Simon, do you have any little brothers or sisters?”
“No ma’am, I live alone with my ma.”
“Robert and James are still well.”
The big man nodded, understanding immediately. “Ma won’t mind. I’ll take them home with me.”
Hannah didn’t protest when it was explained to her, although Robert argued bitterly with her.
“I’m not a baby!” he protested. “I can help you. Hannah, you need me here.”
“Please, Robert, just go. I can’t-- I can’t bear it if all of you get sick.”
She hurriedly gathered up a bag of their belongings before wrapping her sleeping youngest brother in a warm quilt and handing him over to Simon. She planted one last kiss on the little boy’s cheek and another on Robert’s forehead and choked back a sob.
“We’ll take good care of them,” Simon assured her.
She nodded.
The days blended together as the two women took turns tending to the children. Life became an endless cycle of changing sweat-stained bedding and spooning hot broth into sick bodies. Hannah and Victoria nibbled on cold leftovers and slept in short naps whenever they became too tired to carry on without rest. Every so often, Simon stopped by with updates.
“James is still fine,” he told them each time.
“Little Phoebe Foote died last night,” he told them on one visit. “Asa and Abby Conway are sick now, and so is Sophie Phillips.”
“The Andersons have locked themselves in their home with their new little girl,” he announced on another. “Grace is scared to death of losing another daughter.”
“What about the others?” Victoria asked, thinking of her students. Gerrit and Joris were recovering, she was told. David was still struggling. The little Stuart boy had died soon after Phoebe.
The doctor came twice and shook his head when he listened to Micah’s tortured breathing. “Prepare yourselves for the worst,” he said gently after the second visit.
Edward seemed to have rounded a corner by that point. Robert tried several times to return home, arguing with his sister that he was man of the house. Hannah seemed almost too weary to argue, but she stood her ground at the front door one afternoon, prepared to slam the door in his face.
“You will do what I say until the doctor says it’s safe for both of you to come home,” she snapped, and then coughed. “I am much too busy to worry about you getting sick. You can’t help me if you end up in bed, too. Just stay where you are.”
“Well, I’m hungry for real food,” he sulked. “I’m tired of Mrs. DeVries’ cooking. I want real food.”
“I’ll make you all the food you can eat when this is all over,” she promised. “A nice hot bowl of ertwensoep will put you right as rain.”
He made a face. “I hate pea soup, Hannah. You know that.”
“Oh, that’s right. That’s Micah’s favorite.” She looked puzzled.
“Hannah, are you feeling all right?” Victoria asked.
“Of course. Adults don’t get scarlet fever very often,” she said. “I’m just achy from lack of sleep.”
She was wrong. Later that night, she too took to her bed with a raging fever and sore throat. “I can’t be sick, Victoria,” she moaned. “I just can’t. Who’ll take care of my brothers?”
“I’ll take care of them.” Victoria tugged the quilt up to her friend’s chin.
“But Micah . . .” Hanna shivered. “Don’t let him die, Victoria. Promise me he won’t die.”
Victoria was silent. She could make no such promise.
Chapter 16
Will stood and stretched. The straight-backed chair he had placed beside his son’s bed was terribly uncomfortable, especially after sitting in it for so many days in a row. He really needed to walk about a bit and stretch his legs, but he hesitated to leave David’s room any longer than necessary.
The doctor from Gobleville had assured him that the fever had broken and the boy’s unnatural stillness at this point meant he was sleeping peacefully, but Will wasn’t entirely sure he believed it.
There had been deaths. Bits of news trickled in even as the days muddled together in one big blur of sickness and exhaustion. Mostly little ones, although some older children and a few adults had been stricken as well. His heart ached for the Visser family when he heard again and again that Micah wasn’t long for this world. David would be devastated at the loss of his friend.
Desperately, Will cast another look at his son’s gaunt face. David had always been almost painfully thin and lanky, and he seemed to be wasting away after these days of high fever. It seemed impossible that one of his friends lay dying of the same illness. Even Gerrit VanDam -- who seemed to catch every illness and bit of bad luck that ran through Serenity-- even he was said to be recovering, along with his brother.
In repose, David’s face resembled Melanie’s so much that it almost hurt to look at him. Will drew a shaky breath. Eight years seemed like such a long time, but at the moment it felt like only yesterday that he had knelt by this same bedside and said farewell to the woman he loved.
He needed fresh air.
As quietly as possible, he tiptoed out of the little room and propped the door open so he could hear if the boy needed him. He warmed the pot of coffee that had been pushed to the back of the stove and poured himself a cup before heading downstairs.
His general store was dark and silent, as he had closed it in order to take care of David. Nellie Conway’s half-finished cup of tea still sat on the counter gathering dust, as though time had stopped at that moment. With one last glance upstairs, he pushed open the door and stepped outside into the early morning air.
Will breathed in deeply. He smelled damp earth and distant flowers, and perhaps even a tinge of a smoky odor that had been trapped in the ground through the long winter. Spring had well and truly arrived while
he sat hunched over a sickbed, so afraid of losing his son that he had forgotten how to pray.
He tensed when he heard the clip-clop of an approaching rider. However, the horse was moving at an easy pace, not a panicked gallop. He swallowed a mouthful of strong, hot coffee and waited.
It was Adam again. “How’s David?” he asked, dismounting in front of the store.
“Doc says he’s turned a corner. What about Sophie?”
“Also getting better, praise God. Caroline and Emily are still well.” He grinned half-heartedly. “In fact, Sophie is feeling so much better that she refused to rest until I promised to ride into town first thing and find out how David is doing.”
“It occurs to me that you and I may become in-laws someday,” Will chuckled.
“You’re just figuring that out now? Your boy never stood a chance once my Sophie set her sights on him.”
They laughed briefly and then stood for a long moment in silence. “We were lucky,” Adam finally said. “It could have been so much worse.”
“Doesn’t feel lucky,” Will told him. “First the fire, now this. It’s like we’re being punished for something.”
“You can’t think that way.”
Will snorted.
“Hardship’s not a punishment from God, Will. It’s just a part of life. You told me that yourself, remember?” Adam cleared his throat. “Back when the twins’ mama died and my brother ran off and I was at my wits’ end trying to understand why those two little girls were left without parents. You told me to have faith that things would all work out, God has a plan, and you were right.”
Will was silent. For some reason, when he wondered about God’s plan, he couldn’t picture Melanie’s face any more. He kept seeing Victoria’s, and that reminded him of the grim news he had heard the previous day.
“What’s His plan for the Vissers, then?” he asked, a bitter note creeping into his voice. “Micah’s no older than David or Sophie.”
“Micah?” Adam looked stricken. “He’s . . .?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be long now. Doc says the fever’s damaged his heart.”
Adam swore softly, under his breath. He wasn’t given to cursing, but the occasion seemed to call for it. “Those poor children. First the mother, then the father, and now one of the boys.”
They were silent again, watching Simon DeVries make his way up the street and into the Visser’s barn. “What’s that all about?” Adam wondered.
“Simon’s been taking care of things for them while they’ve all been ill. His mother is keeping Robert and James until it passes over.” Will allowed himself a small smile. “That may be one bit of good news for the family. Simon’s got eyes for Hannah if she ever looks up from her cooking long enough to notice him.”
“Simon and Hannah. Who would have seen that coming?” Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “Will, you look like death, old friend. I’ll bet you haven’t had a hot meal in days. Why don’t you let me whip something up for you before I go home? Oh, don’t look at me like that -- I can cook as well as you.”
“That’s not saying much, I’m afraid.”
Chapter 17
Will was surprised to discover that he felt like a new man after sitting down to the heaping plate of scrambled eggs that Adam prepared for him. After Adam had departed and Will washed the dishes, he was startled to hear a weak voice calling him.
“Pa? Are you out there?”
He dropped everything and hurried into the bedroom, where David was struggling to sit up. “Easy, son, you’ve been pretty sick,” he said. “What do you need?”
“I’m thirsty.”
Will helped him sit up long enough to take a few sips of water.
“What day is it, Pa?” he asked, leaning back against the pillow.
“Do you know, I really have no idea,” Will said, and laughed. It seemed ridiculous to be able to laugh as relief coursed through his body and left him feeling almost weak. “It might be Friday, but then again it might be Saturday or even Sunday. I’ve been in here with you for so many days that I lost count.”
“I thought I heard Mr. Phillips out there.”
“You did. He came to see how you were doing. And before you ask, everyone in his family is just fine. Sophie was sick, just like you, but she’s getting better. Just like you.”
“When do I have to go back to school?”
Will laughed again, but sobered quickly at the thought of school resuming with so many missing faces. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Not any time soon, that’s for sure.”
Later, when his son had gone back to sleep, Will asked himself the same question. He’d heard enough talk in recent days to know that many of the parents in Serenity blamed Victoria for the spread of the disease. Some were angry that she hadn’t recognized the symptoms and sent sick children home earlier. Others thought she should have quarantined them all in the schoolhouse at the first sign of illness. Nellie Conway’s husband had even raged that perhaps Victoria brought scarlet fever with her when she came from Port Huron.
It was crazy talk, but Will could hardly blame any of them for their anger, not even Earl Conway. He wanted to be angry at someone too, but he knew better than to direct his ire at Victoria.
Will glanced across the street at the Visser house. He had to admit, however grudgingly, that she had handled the situation remarkably well. Throughout it all, she had remained calm and clear-headed, always putting the well-being of her charges ahead of her own needs.
But if he were going to be completely honest with himself, he had to face the fact that school would probably not resume at all for a while, and if it did, she would only have a handful of students. Even at her best, she hadn’t had the twenty students he had declared she needed.
He wondered how she felt about staying on in town. She had taught the local children for only a few short weeks with very little help or support from him. He wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to leave now.
Strangely enough, now that she had every reason to leave, he suddenly found that he wanted her to stay.
Will shook his head to clear it. Forgive me, Melanie, for thinking that I could have feelings for Victoria. I would never be untrue to you.
He was tired and on edge, he told himself. Now that David was out of danger, he just needed one good night’s sleep to put everything back in order. In the morning, he would open the store for at least a few hours, and life would go back to the way it was.
Just the way it was. Lonely. he thought gloomily. Lonely and alone, with no one to love except a ghost.
Chapter 18
Micah stubbornly clung to life while those around him recovered slowly. His fever faded, but he coughed and struggled to breathe until at times his lips were tinged with blue. His eyes, once bright with mischief, became sunken and dull. He spent his days sleeping or listlessly gazing at the wall.
As soon as Hannah was well enough to cook again, she tried to coax him with his favorite babelaars and thick split-pea soup, but he had no appetite. Day by day, he seemed to shrink away under the quilts.
Simon carried him downstairs on a few warm days to sit in the sun on the porch in hopes that the fresh air would help him, but to no avail. He rarely spoke at all; he voice, when he did, was dry as paper.
Victoria read to him every day. Vaguely, she wondered when --or if-- she was expected to re-open the school. Mentally, she ticked off the list of children in town who would be well enough to attend. Seth and Neil Conway had escaped illness but were helping their parents tend the little ones, who were finally on the road to recovery. Parents of the remaining Foote children had sent word that they would be schooling the girls at home for now. At least half of the others were still recovering and were not yet healthy enough to return.
One afternoon, Robert tapped on the door while she read to Micah. “Excuse me, Mrs. Dawson,” he said. “Mr. Baxter is here to see you.”
She excused herself and rose from her chair. “I’ll be back soon,” she promis
ed.
Micah didn’t respond.
“Hey,” she heard Robert say gently as she left the room. “Old Blackie had her calf last night. She’s a beauty, all black with a white face. Don’t you want to get stronger so you can go look at her?”
Victoria choked back a sob. It broke her heart to hear Robert speak in such a gentle tone to the brother he had once loved to tease. She stopped on the last step to compose herself before going to meet Will face-to-face. She had a feeling she knew why he was there.
Will looked as weary as she felt. “How is David?” she asked politely.
“Better. What about Micah?”
She just shook her head, unable to speak.
He gave her a searching glance. “What about the rest of the family? Are they all getting any better?”
“James and Robert came home yesterday,” she said. “Edward and Hannah weak, but getting better. And Hannah is feeling well enough to cook for Micah, for all the good it does. At any rate, I suppose you’re here to talk to me about school?”
“Well, yes.” Will shifted awkwardly. “It’s going to be some time before you can re-open, don’t you think?”
She agreed.
“What are your thoughts on the matter?” he asked. Before she could answer, he let out an exasperated breath and shook his head. “Victoria, this is just silly. I thought we had become friends that day we walked in the woods. Must we be so formal with each other?”
That day was a lifetime ago, she wanted to say. Instead, she tried to smile at him. “Forgive me, Will. I hardly know which way is up at this point. My thoughts? I think we should re-open the school as soon as possible, even if there are only a few students. They need to get back into the routine and learn as much as they can before I have to let them out for the summer.”
“That’s only a few weeks now,” he said. “Your older students will be staying home to help get the crops planted. Some of your younger ones won’t come any more without older brothers to bring them to school. Others are still too weak to come back, and some, like Phoebe and Micah --” he stopped, his gaze travelling to the ceiling as though he could see Micah up there.
