The Dawn of a Dream

by Ann Shorey

  Leaving the landlady frowning in the doorway, Luellen set off down College Avenue. Just put one foot in front of the other, she told herself. She hadn’t traveled far when she had to stop while coughs racked her body. Pain shot across her lower abdomen. Cupping her hands under her belly, she pressed upward to relieve the spasm. How would she ever get through the exams? Her body felt like it belonged to someone else and her brain was coated with dust.

  Luellen wished Mrs. Hale would close the window. A chilly draft blew across her table near the back of the crowded testing room. She knew better than to ask. After handing out the exam packets, the proctor acted as though Luellen were invisible, as did most of the other girls in the room. Belle sat at the table in front of her, but after initial greetings, students weren’t allowed to converse during the exam period.

  She clenched her teeth to prevent their chattering and tried to focus on filling in countries on a blank European map. Exactly where did the empire of Austria end and the Ottoman Empire begin? She’d studied the atlas over and over, but now chasing the boundaries felt like grasping at fog. Her hand shook as she traced borders and identified nations. A glance at the clock told her there was an hour left in the exam period, and she had yet to tackle the section on algebra.

  Luellen closed her eyes and rested her forehead in her hands. So tired. Could she get through another hour? Turning the page, she stared at a row of equations. The numbers blurred. She must have moaned, because Belle turned around, a worried expression on her face.

  “Are you all right?” she mouthed.

  “Miss Brownlee. Eyes front.” Mrs. Hale rapped on her desk for emphasis.

  By force of will, Luellen lifted her pencil and tackled the first problem. If she failed now, the entire year would be wasted. Each equation was a struggle through briars, and she knew she was guessing at answers. Halfway through the set, she heard the chapel bell toll three times. The examination was over, and she hadn’t finished.

  Mrs. Hale strode to Luellen’s table and snatched her exam booklet. “You’ll be notified by post. No special treatment this time.” She spoke under her breath, a sneer on her lips.

  Luellen nodded, afraid to speak for fear she’d start coughing again. As soon as all the booklets had been collected, Belle stood and hurried to her side.

  “Let me help you back to Mrs. Hawks’s. You never should have come today—you’re terribly ill.”

  “Had to. Everything I’ve done—” Luellen doubled over, her chest burning.

  Belle slipped an arm around her back and helped her to her feet. “Can you get to the bench out front? We’ll wait there for the omnibus.”

  Once they reached the boardinghouse, Mrs. Hawks brewed a pot of tea and sat at the table with them. Speaking to Belle as though Luellen wasn’t in the room, she said, “She’s going home tomorrow. I’m worried. I think she’s too ill to travel.”

  Mrs. Hawks and Belle swam in a gray haze. “I have my ticket,” Luellen said, her voice raspy. “I want to go home.”

  “And you shall.” Belle took her hand. “What time does the train leave?”

  “Early. Seven.”

  “I’ll be here—we’ll go together.”

  Tears filled Luellen’s eyes. “I can’t ask you—” She coughed, heart pounding.

  “You’re not asking. I’m telling.” Belle’s dimples appeared at the corners of her smile. “You rest now. I’ll be here to fetch you in the morning.”

  As soon as Belle left, Mrs. Hawks bustled around the table. “Come, let me help you to bed.” She laid a hand on Luellen’s forehead. “You’re burning with fever. I pray this doesn’t harm the baby.”

  Luellen wrapped her arms around her abdomen. “So do I.”

  After the landlady left the bedroom, Luellen huddled under two blankets and a quilt, shivering. Points of light danced behind her eyes. When she took a breath, she heard rattles in her chest.

  At some time during the evening, Mrs. Hawks came in carrying a bowl of broth and helped her spoon the steaming brew into her mouth. Once finished, Luellen fell back on the pillow.

  “You sleep now,” Mrs. Hawks said. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to get ready to leave.”

  “My trunk . . .”

  “I’ll pack your things.”

  “Thank you.” Luellen wasn’t sure whether she’d spoken aloud or not. She rolled onto her side and slept.

  “Time to wake up, dear.”

  Drenched in perspiration, Luellen attempted to focus on Mrs. Hawks’s face. “Is it morning already?”

  “Miss Brownlee is here with a hired buggy.” She handed Luellen a cup of tea. “I added some honey—the sweetness will help your cough.” Stepping back, she asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “My chest hurts.” Luellen stood, placing the teacup on the washstand. Her haggard face reflected back at her in the mirror. Dark circles painted the area under her eyes and two bright dots of color highlighted each cheek. “Please tell Belle I’ll be dressed in a moment.” She splashed water into the basin.

  As soon as Mrs. Hawks left, Luellen removed her nightgown, observing her swollen belly. “Not much longer,” she said to her baby. “We just have to get home.” A cough tore her throat.

  “Luellen?” Belle called through the door.

  “One moment. I’ll be right out.”

  True to her word, Mrs. Hawks had packed the trunk, leaving a fresh shift and her traveling costume hanging in the wardrobe. Luellen folded her quilt and placed it atop her belongings, then fastened the hasp.

  She entered the kitchen, resting a hand on the wall to keep her balance. “Thank you for coming, Belle. I don’t believe I could get through the trip by myself.”

  “You’d do the same for me.” She held out her arm. “Are you ready?”

  Luellen clung to her elbow and nodded.

  “I’ll have the driver load your trunk.”

  The trip to the station seemed to take only minutes. The train had already arrived and was taking on water and coal. Belle busied herself seeing to the luggage while Luellen rested on a bench. At the edge of the platform, a little girl stood next to her mother, tossing bread crumbs at rufous-striped sparrows. Luellen watched, thinking of the day she’d show her own child how to feed birds. She prayed she’d be able to manage school and a youngster as well as Alma did.

  Belle interrupted her reverie. “Time to board. I’ve arranged seats for us.”

  The conductor met them at the steps. “Right this way, ladies.” Once inside, she noticed Belle had chosen two facing seats and arranged a blanket and pillow on one of them.

  Tipping his cap, the man said, “You let me know if you need anything. We should be at the relay station in time for noon dinner.”

  Luellen nodded thanks and slipped into her seat, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. “You are such a thoughtful friend,” she said to Belle.

  “Hush now. You’ll start coughing.” She fluffed the pillow and tucked it behind Luellen’s shoulders. “I brought a book. Would you like me to read aloud?”

  “Please.” The train jerked into motion, gradually settling into a rhythmic clicking as the wheels rolled along the tracks.

  On the facing seat, Belle reached into her satchel. “Have you read Mr. Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables?”

  “No. I read—” She struggled for breath. “The Scarlet Letter. Didn’t like it much.”

  “This one’s supposed to be better.” Belle opened the cover. “Chapter one. ‘Halfway down a bystreet . . .’ ”

  Luellen closed her eyes. Belle’s voice blended with the train sounds, then faded away.

  Papa stood in the aisle, his face masked with fear. “Why didn’t you come home sooner?”

  Was she dreaming? “Papa?”

  His arms went around her, helping her rise. “My little girl. Let’s get you home. Mama’s right outside.”

  Supported by Belle and her father, Luellen descended the steps onto the platform in Beldon Grove. The sun dangled i
n the western sky, washing the town with the last rays of afternoon.

  Mama dashed over. “Belle telegraphed us about your illness. Thank the Lord that you’re here safely.” She placed a hand on Luellen’s cheek and kissed her.

  Turning to Belle, she said, “Bless you for accompanying her. I know you’ve delayed your own homecoming.”

  “I couldn’t let her make the journey by herself.” She sent a mock frown in Luellen’s direction. “And she would have, I’m quite sure.”

  “Once she makes up her mind . . .” Mama’s voice trailed off.

  Papa helped Luellen into the buggy. “You wait here. We’ll leave as soon as the baggage is unloaded.”

  Her arrival at the house wasn’t marked by the festivities that greeted her at Christmas. Papa drove the buggy around to the back door and helped her inside. To her surprise, Franklin and Ward waited in the kitchen. Vaguely, she remembered Franklin’s letter mentioning a planned visit to Beldon Grove.

  Her brother blanched when he saw her. “You look like you been chawed up and spit out. Belle telegraphed that you were sick, but—” He sought Papa’s face. “What’s she got?”

  “Soon’s I know, I’ll tell you.” He clipped off the words. “First we need to get her to bed.”

  “Let me help you, sir,” Ward said, stepping forward. He’d lost his ruddy look, and appeared thinner. His left arm hung straight from his shoulder.

  In spite of her own misery, Luellen felt a pang when she met his haunted eyes. What happened to the confident officer she’d first met?

  Mama entered the bedroom, carrying a vase laden with late-season lilacs. Their heady fragrance filled the air. “Ellie stopped by with these before church. She sends her love, but couldn’t stay for a visit. I’ll put them on the bureau.”

  “Tell her thank you.” Luellen pushed herself up on one elbow. The effort left her trembling. Morning sun flared across the bed, igniting the flowers on her quilt in a blaze of crimson. “I’m sorry you and Papa had to miss services.”

  “The Lord will understand.” Mama smiled. “Belle went with Franklin and Ward, so our family will be represented.”

  “When did Papa say Dr. Gordon is coming?”

  “Any minute now. Do you want me to help you into a fresh gown?”

  “Please.” She leaned forward while Mama tugged off her damp nightgown and replaced it with one smelling of sunlight. Exhausted, Luellen fell back onto the pillow. “I’ll sleep until he arrives,” she murmured, eyes closing.

  A short while later, voices in the hallway roused her. Papa entered the room first, followed by Beldon Grove’s new doctor. A small man, he sported a beard and a head of carroty red hair. He wore a wrinkled black jacket over a blue-striped shirt with a fold-down collar. In one hand he carried a bulging satchel, which he plopped on the bureau next to the lilacs.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss McGarvie. I’m Dr. Gordon. Angus Gordon to my friends, like your father here.”

  Luellen sought Papa’s eyes, still mystified as to why he wouldn’t treat her.

  “I don’t trust myself, Lulie,” he said, reading her mind. “I’m too close to you to be objective.”

  “Don’t you worry, lass. Karl and I went to the same school of medicine. I finished two years ago, so I know some new tricks.” He grinned and drew a stethoscope from his bag. “I need to ask you to unfasten the ribbons at the neck of your garment, please.”

  His manner changed from jocular to professional when he placed the cold chest piece of the instrument against her skin. “Take a deep breath now.”

  Luellen sucked air into her lungs and immediately bent double, coughing. Dr. Gordon spread his fingers across her back and supported her until the spasm ended. Once she was resettled on the pillow, he patted her hand and turned to Papa. “Lung fever, without a doubt.”

  “I thought so too. She’s been sick most of the week, according to her friend. Fever and chills. Coughing fits.”

  “If it’s been that long, she may be near the crisis point.” He angled his gaze at Luellen. “I’d say you’ll be on the mend in a few more days.” His eyes strayed to the mound of her pregnancy under the quilt. “With your permission, I’d like to examine you further. When is your baby expected?”

  “Before the end of the month.” Luellen paused to take a shallow breath and then gave voice to her deepest fear. “Has my . . . lung fever . . . harmed my child?”

  Dr. Gordon folded the bedding aside and laid his hands on her nightgown-covered abdomen. His fingers probed the position of the baby. “I feel movement. I believe your child will be perfectly healthy. But it’s too soon to know for certain.”

  He replaced his stethoscope in the satchel. “I’ll be back to check on you in a day or two. In the interim, you must observe complete rest—for your sake and the child’s.”

  22

  Franklin sprawled on a chair next to Luellen’s bed, moccasined feet stuck out in front of him. “Things are too quiet around here since Belle went home.”

  “I miss her too.” She shifted to relieve an ache in her lower back. “Mama said you went strolling together in the evenings. I’m glad you were here to entertain her.” As she said the words, Luellen knew she meant them.

  “No hardship, I assure you.” He sat forward. “Now that your fever’s gone, will the doc let you come downstairs?”

  “I have to wait until after the baby comes. He said I could walk up and down the hallway to keep my legs strong, but no stairs.” She scooted higher on the pillows, wincing when a spasm crossed her abdomen.

  “That doctor looks like a leprechaun, doesn’t he? Short and red-haired. All that’s missing is a little green cap.” Franklin’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Luellen giggled. “Don’t let Papa hear you. He thinks highly of Dr. Gordon.”

  “Not highly enough to see him about his breathing problems.”

  She sobered. “He’s worse than he was when I was home this winter.” She felt heaviness in her belly and sudden warmth between her legs. Muscles in her groin rippled. Luellen clutched the edge of the quilt. All the horror stories she’d heard about childbirth pounded through her mind. “I think the baby’s coming. Call Papa.”

  The chair clattered backward as Franklin sprang to his feet, face pale. “Stay right there.” He dashed from the room.

  Luellen couldn’t help but smile. Where did he think she’d go?

  Franklin’s voice spiraled down the staircase. “Mama! Luellen’s having the baby. Right now! Where’s Papa?”

  Mama’s voice followed Franklin’s into the room. “Papa’s in his office. After you tell him, go get Dr. Gordon. And Franklin—”

  “What?”

  “Babies take awhile. Slow down and catch your breath.”

  After a moment, Mama arrived in the doorway. “Are the pains close together?” She stepped next to the bed and smoothed Luellen’s hair away from her brow.

  “Every couple of minutes. I thought I was just having settling pains this morning, but—” She paused while a contraction seized her abdomen. “My water broke. I’m scared, Mama.”

  Her mother’s soft palm rested against Luellen’s forehead. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, but her voice wavered. “Papa should be here soon.”

  “I’m here now.” Her father strode to the bedside, his pale face telegraphing concern. “How are you feeling, Lulie?”

  “The pain—it’s worse by the moment.”

  His hand shook when he reached for hers. “That’s normal, unfortunately. Dr. Gordon’s on his way.” Papa’s blue eyes misted. “I’ll stay right here with you, but—”

  “Papa is too attached to you to be much help, is what he’s trying to say.” Mama patted her husband’s cheek. She pointed to the chair that Franklin had upset when he dashed from the room.

  “Why don’t you sit, Karl? I’ll run downstairs for towels and put the kettle on.” She raised the window. “This breeze should help you feel comfortable,” she said to Luellen.

&nbs
p; May air stroked Luellen’s perspiring face. “Thank you.” She drew a deep breath and waited for a contraction to pass.

  When Dr. Gordon arrived, he plopped his leather satchel on top of the bureau. “So, here comes the little one. How far apart are your bearing pains?”

  “Seems like every minute—I’m not sure.”

  He tipped his head toward Papa, who still clutched her hand. “Aren’t you timing them?”

  “No. I didn’t think of it.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew his watch. The gold case glinted in the morning light when he clicked the cover open.

  Dr. Gordon scrutinized Papa’s face. “I don’t want two patients. Maybe you’d be better off downstairs with your son and his friend.”

  He drew a shaky breath. “I promised Luellen. I’m staying here.”

  A pungent odor of sweat lingered over the bed when the doctor laid the squalling infant on Luellen’s abdomen. “He’s a healthy lad. Just listen to those lungs.”

  Exhausted, she touched the baby’s mop of wet black curls with a trembling fingertip. “Hello, David. You’re beautiful.” Luellen didn’t think her heart could hold all the love she felt for this tiny red-faced boy.

  Mama bent over her and cradled the baby in a towel. “I’ll bathe him and bring him right back.” The setting sun cast a rosy glow over the two of them as she slipped from the room.

  The spot where David had rested on her belly felt cold and empty. “Hurry,” Luellen whispered.

  Papa stood to one side, shirt collar unbuttoned, while Dr. Gordon completed his ministrations. Once the doctor left the room, Papa leaned down and gathered Luellen in his arms. He rested his cheek against her hair. “Thank you, Lord, for giving us a strong baby and preserving our daughter.” The balm of his fervent prayer washed her in peace.

  The next morning Ward hovered in the doorway when Franklin came into the bedroom. “May I see him too? I don’t want to intrude.”

  Mama had freshened the room, putting a bouquet of climbing roses on the bureau and folding the quilt over the foot of the bed. Cuddling her blanket-wrapped son in the crook of her right arm, Luellen smiled a welcome. “Please do. David wants to meet my family and friends.”