The Thorn Healer

by Pepper D. Basham

  With a sudden crash, the door of the clinic burst open, slamming into the wall as it swung. Afternoon light framed the silhouette of a child—a boy, probably no older than seven. A hound stood to his right, awaiting the next move.

  Dr. Carter pushed between Jessica and Mr. Little to greet the lad.

  “Jude Larson?”

  The little boy stepped forward, his hair a shaggy batch of brown and his clothes as tattered as the shoes on his feet. The dog stayed at the threshold, a sturdy, lean animal of brown and white. “My mama needs a doctor.”

  “I see.” Dr. Carter’s shoulder dropped with an unnamed weight. He ran a palm over his face. “The baby?”

  The boys’ hands went to his hips, displaying more maturity than his slim size warranted. “I reckon so, and I’ve been gone too long now. Doctor Peck ain’t nowhere to be found on the outside of the fence, so I come to you.”

  Dr. Carter turned to August. “Dr. Peck is up on the ridge tending a family with scarlet fever. He can’t make it back in time to help Eliza.” He moved to the cabinet and began placing items into his black bag. “I can’t leave Mr. Buchanan.”

  “Somebody’s gotta come help my momma.” The lad’s voice broke with his plea.

  August moved to the ready, catching Jessica’s frown in the process.

  “And somebody will do just that.” Dr. Carter crossed the room to the boy and knelt to his level, cradling the boy’s shoulder with his palm. “I can’t leave my patient, Jude, but I’m sending the next best thing.”

  Dr. Carter nodded his head toward Jessica. “I’m sending my granddaughter. She and your mama went to school together.”

  Jessica took her cue, joining her grandfather’s side.

  Jude examined her with more suspicion than any child ought to muster, his chin tilted higher. “And she’s birthed babies afore?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s had practice birthing babies, but even more than that, she’s had practice taking care of wounded people.” Dr. Carter took Jude’s shoulders, meeting the boy at eye level. “And we both know your mama’s not been feeling good for a long while.”

  Jude stared at Dr. Carter and offered a deliberate nod, the boy’s eyes holding a greater burden than his small body should carry. A weight of responsibility August understood. “She’s needed lots of help since Daddy died in the war.”

  “And you’ve been a great help to her. Miss Jessica will take good care of your mama, and my friend here, August, will go with her.” He nodded back toward August, a wary look in his eyes steeping August’s caution. “He’ll be there to do whatever’s necessary.”

  The foreboding response bit like pinpricks up August’s spine.

  “But, Jude, you gotta listen to them, son. No matter what they ask you to do. Having a baby is hard business on a woman, especially a woman who’s been sick. I don’t know how much of it she can take.”

  August turned a sharp eye to Jessica, and for a moment, a fragile fear wavered her exterior confidence. She looked away, back at the boy.

  “But we’ll do all we can. I promise you,” Jessica said, conviction marking each word.

  “I reckon you better. She was hollerin’ something awful afore I left.” The boy turned to Dr. Carter, his gaze unswerving and not fully comprehending the devastating implications in the doctor’s words. “I’ll do whatever ya’ll need me to.”

  “Good lad.” Dr. Carter patted his shoulder and stood. “I need you and Scraps”—he gestured toward the dog—“to run back home as fast as you can and start up a fire.”

  “But it’s hot as blazes outside.”

  “True. But we’re going to need hot water to help birth the baby, and you’ll get home faster than any of us.”

  The boy’s eyes widened and he backed toward the door. “I’ll be right on it, Doctor. I can make it there in no time if I don’t stop none.”

  “Then get to it.”

  The boy rushed from the building, Scraps on his heels. Dr. Carter released a long sigh.

  “What is it?” Jessica’s question broke the silence.

  Dr. Carter’s attention moved to his granddaughter. “After news of Paul came back from Europe, Eliza’s never been the same. Practically gave up on living. Growing thinner and thinner each time I saw her in town or took a turn to visit her on the ridge in Dr. Peck’s stead.”

  Jessica’s face paled, her emerald gaze searching her grandfather’s face. “Surely she’d fight to live for her children’s sake. One doesn’t die from a lack of will to live.”

  “You’ve been in Europe. Seen countless deaths, my girl. The lack of will is only one deciding factor in a struggle against sickness and sorrow.”

  Jessica pinched her pink lips closed, a ‘spitfire’ of determination marking her soft features. She marched to the counter, continuing her grandfather’s work of packing the bag.

  August ran to the shelf with the bandages and bottle of morphine.

  “See here, Dr. Carter, I can assist Miss Ross instead of this—” Mr. Little curbed his words. “Mr. Reinhold. I’ve actually had medical training.”

  August’s hands paused on the bandages. Dr. Carter stopped in his walk toward Jessica, and even Jessica turned to stare at Mr. Little.

  “I appreciate your willingness, Mr. Little.” Dr. Carter placed his fists on his hips, studying the young man. “And I mean no offense, sir, but I don’t know you.”

  “Pardon?” Mr. Little blinked as if he couldn’t comprehend the words.

  “I have no doubt you’re a trustworthy sort of man, but I need to know you much better before I leave you with one of my critical patients... or my granddaughter.”

  “But sir...”

  “You just got off the train today, Mr. Little. Today. You’re still wearing your traveling clothes. You came here for songs and history, but you don’t know the forests and people of the Blue Ridge, and they certainly don’t know you. I need people familiar with this region and the hardships right now, but I appreciate your willingness, as I said.”

  The man’s lips pinched and white fire sparked to life in the glint in his eyes. His jaw tensed. “You would allow this”—he gestured toward August—“enemy alien to go? You trust him?”

  The label given to the Germans, the harshness of it, failed to wound August anymore, but the Mr. Little’s sudden fury told an unnerving tale of the man’s hatred.

  Dr. Carter pointed to August, his profile as stoic and tense as Mr. Little’s. “This foreigner isn’t a stranger. I’d trust him with my life.” The moment stretched like the tautness of a drawn bowstring waiting to snap. And then Dr. Carter smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Little. With the hundreds of people living in the nooks and crannies of these hollows, I’m certain you’ll get plenty of opportunity to serve.” The soft words cushioned the edge in the room a little but not enough to steal the glower when Mr. Little glanced at August.

  What had happened to the man besides the loss of his hand? The loss of a loved one? Whatever it was brought enough vengeance to remain volatile.

  “Go. Now.” Dr. Carter turned back to August and Jessica. “And may God be with you both.”

  August locked gazes with the doctor and offered an internal prayer. He was charged with taking a little boy to the bedside of his dying mother while assisting a nurse who hated him, all the while under the shadow of some German-hating Englishman? If there was ever a time for prayer, it was this moment.

  Chapter Six

  From his first walk through the forests surrounding Hot Springs, August had felt drawn in by the lush beauty of the sloping mountains. Of course, his first trek had been on a rainy evening, helping a small band of guards search for the camp’s first runaway, but even then, the pull of the mountains’ quiet call ushered him to linger... to live.

  Now, as he marched at a steady pace up the hill, with Jessica at his side trying to ignore him, the tree-lined path cast late afternoon shadows in front of him, keeping his thoughts away from the darkness of the past. Reminding him of fresh beginnings—hope brough
t to life by Dr. and Mrs. Carter’s kindness along with their welcome into their family.

  Peace. A presence almost tangible in the quiet woods. God’s fingerprints stamped across the horizon, carried on each birdsong, and within each fleshy leaf on the trees.

  Jessica kept silent as they made the steady climb, just as she’d done in the automobile ride to the bottom of the hill. What was she thinking? Was she entertaining thoughts of Jasper Little? August grimaced and cast her another glance from his periphery.

  Perhaps he truly was playing the fool, but somewhere within all those letters, woven through their stories and memories, there beat a kindred heart. A loyal, faithful resilience. Though it bent and twisted beneath the heavy hand of pain, he’d not only heard about her kindness and strength, he’d already witnessed it.

  He’d learned hard lessons on patience—lessons, no doubt, she’d push to the edge if his first few days with her proved typical. But he’d found his home in Hot Springs. He’d never known what it meant to belong somewhere until he’d run to the assistance of Dr. Carter when a woman collapsed at the train depot a few months after his arrival to the camp. From that moment, the gentleness and forbearance, the trust, offered by Dr. and Mrs. Carter began the long and sweet healing August’s heart needed.

  A place of belonging.

  And Jessica’s entrance, along with the three-inch block of resentment on her shoulder, threatened to wedge distance between August and his beloved Carters. If nothing else, he had to win her indifference, but he wanted much more.

  “You have had a busy entrance, no?”

  She slid him a glance from her periphery and continued moving forward without a response.

  “It must be difficult returning after so long. Much has changed for you but stayed the same for your small town.”

  Her sudden exhalation of air broke the quiet and she shot him a heated look. “My small town hasn’t stayed the same from where I’m standing, Mr. Reinhold. The flood. The camp.” She focused ahead. “Not the same at all.”

  “The spirit of your town is the same. Kind people, like your grandparents, and the beauty of the —”

  “You need to understand something.” She stopped on the trail, her palms planted on her hips as she turned the full brunt of her fiery gaze on him. “We are not going to be friends.”

  He combatted her statement with a shrug. “I am an optimist.”

  She groaned and resumed her frantic pace up the hillside, slowed only by the limp in her stride. Silence moved between them like a wall. August glanced up at the afternoon sky, awash with a mixture of clouds and sun. He had to return to camp by dusk or he would endanger the freedom his good name allowed.

  “Just because you think you know my grandparents doesn’t mean you know me.” Jessica’s words erupted in a harsh whisper, fueling her steps to an even faster rhythm.

  He kept the pace. “No. But knowing the kindness and the welcome from your grandparents has made me wish to know you as well. They assure me you can be kind.”

  She turned the power of those emerald eyes on him, her mouth dropped wide. “Of course I can be kind. I’m a nurse, for heaven sakes.”

  “I would not see the two as related.” August shoved his hands in his pockets, holding his grin in check. At least he had her talking. “Nurses have always brought needles and stings to me.”

  Her brow tilted skyward. “Perhaps you deserved the needles and stings.”

  The grip on his smile loosed completely. “No doubt, Nurse Ross. No doubt.”

  Her gaze hesitated in his before she jerked her attention back to the path ahead and tightened her jaw into a line of defense. The fiery glint in those large eyes fascinated him. He knew the gentleness and longing braided through her letters, the dry humor and compassion infused onto the pages. But those eyes added a dimension of depth he’d failed to anticipate. Fascinating. Challenging.

  The quiet of the forest slid in between their labored breaths as the path grew steep. August had learned to embrace the earthy stillness and gentle solitude, but had Jessica’s mind and heart become so full of the sounds of war, she’d lost the ability to hear the quiet of a serene afternoon, the stillness of peace? He remembered a time when the noise from his pain drowned out all peace.

  “Eliza’s cabin’s at the top of the ridge.”

  August nodded.

  “How do you know English so well?” She asked the question with a reluctant edge.

  “My father worked with Englishmen so he learned the language first and taught it to me, my brother, and sister, but then I took classes at the camp.”

  For some reason, the answer paused her steps. “The camp offers classes?”

  “Yes.” He had her attention. Even as she began walking again, she studied him. What did she see? “We’ve even created a small town inside the fence. New Heidelberg. Nothing like the true city, but a little taste of home.”

  Her frown curled. “Taste of home, is it?”

  “I am not like the people who hurt you.”

  She stepped forward, her finger pointed like a weapon. “You know nothing about the people who hurt me.”

  He held her gaze, as unswerving as hers. “And you know nothing about who I am.”

  “Ya’ll need to git a move on.” Jude’s face emerged at the top of the trail, his hound at his side. “Mama needs ya.”

  Jessica stabbed him with a glare and then grabbed the front of her skirt, running as best she could up the hill, her limp becoming more evident.

  The path ended in front of a tiny log cabin, much like some of the other houses August had seen while assisting Dr. Carter. It stood in need of repairs, but as August had learned, men were scarce and widows received help in filtered opportunities as hands were able. By the state of this cabin, it had been a long time since workman shadowed the door of Eliza Larson’s doorstep. The short-hewn log home clung to the hillside as if the next puff of wind might send it toppling over the edge.

  A pitiful moan broke into the afternoon from the open door, sending Jessica up the crooked porch steps and through the door. August stopped at the threshold, his chest deflating at the sight.

  A woman, sallow-faced and pale, sat on a low, straw-tic bed, her hands clawing at the care-worn quilt barely covering her frail body. Based on Dr. Carter’s warning, he’d expected a weaker vessel to greet him, but not one already holding an otherworldly countenance.

  His throat tightened. He knew the shadow lurking in the corners of the room. An icy chill slid up his spine, unearthing darker memories of his grandfather’s deathbed and the lifeless body of his sister’s newborn daughter. He cringed against the tremor, but Jessica seemed untouched by the sense of doom hemming in on all sides of the dimly lit room. She moved to the bed, taking the woman’s wrist to feel a pulse and pushing back the woman’s damp hair from her face.

  The intensity and compassion marking every feature of her inspired August into action too. “I’ll help Jude with the hot water, yes?”

  Jessica met his gaze with the slightest hint of surprise. “Yes.”

  “I already got it a’goin’,” Jude answered from the doorway.

  “Jessica Ross?” The voice rising from the ghostly figure on the bed pooled as fragile as the gown draping her shoulders. “You’re back?”

  “Yes, Liza.” Jessica’s tones smoothed into a gentle touch, stilling August’s movements to stare in wonder. “I came back just in time to help you meet your newest family member. Wasn’t that nice of me?”

  The woman’s gray eyes searched Jessica’s face. “It’s a sign.”

  “A sign?”

  “I was waitin’ for a sign and here you came.” Her voice quivered as her smile grew. “Now... now, all is as it should be.”

  Jessica looked up to August, and for the first time since he’d met her, the fire steeling her gaze bowed to a vulnerability. Fear. Uncertainty. He took another step forward, ready to fight against whatever distress raked at her strength.

  Another contraction wracked thr
ough the woman’s body. August turned to the little boy whose somber gaze fastened on his unsettled mother. Emotions squeezed August’s voice low as he knelt in front of the boy. “Jude.”

  The boy turned those piercing blue eyes, his countenance much older than his years. He’d stepped into his father’s position at home as his father stepped into war. “Yes, sir.”

  “I believe Nurse Jesse has an occupation for you, isn’t that correct, Nurse?”

  Jessica pulled her attention to the pair, dazed. “Yes... yes, that’s right. Do you know what the basil plant looks like?”

  The boy perked to attention and shot a gaze back to the bed where his mother collapsed from the exertion of the activity. “Mama uses it for cookin’. I’ve got it for her before.”

  “Excellent. Will you run grab some for me? We’ll make some tea for your mama.”

  His nose wrinkled with his doubt. August’s did as well.

  “Ain’t meanin’ no disrespect, ma’am. But my mama’s wantin’ to have a baby, not drink no tea.”

  Jessica placed her palm against the woman’s arm, a gesture of support, as she gave the little boy a gentle smile. “It’s to help with the baby, Jude. It fights infection.”

  His thin body perked to attention. “Yes, ma’am.” He took another look at his mother and backed up to the threshold of the door. “I won’t be long.” He placed his little hands on his hips and set his jaw with a defiance. “ʼCause I plan to be right here to keep Mama safe.”

  “Most of the time menfolk stay outside until the baby comes, Jude.” August entered the conversation from his quiet corner, lowering himself to one knee. “Women need privacy for such as this, and if need be, I’ll help as I can.”

  “I can’t trust no stinkin’ German to put his hands on my mama.”

  August didn’t even flinch. The boy had lost his father due to Germans, so why wouldn’t he absorb the anger shared by his mother? The lostness.

  “Do you trust my grandpa, Jude?” An unlikely ally emerged in Jessica Ross.

  Jude stared back. “Sure do. Ain’t no better man on the mountain.”