Love Inspired November 2013 #2

by Emma Miller

  “What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked. “Are you tired?”

  Amelia buried her head in Rebecca’s neck and sobbed great wrenching sobs of anguish that lapsed into hiccups. Her little face felt hot and sweaty against Rebecca’s skin.

  “Shh, shh,” Rebecca continued to murmur as she patted the child’s back. “No wonder she’s acting out,” she said, meeting Caleb’s worried gaze. “She’s burning up. I think she’s running a fever.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hannah’s forehead creased in a concerned expression as she placed a hand on Amelia’s forehead. “She does feel as though she has a fever. 102, maybe 103. Poor baby,” she crooned, kissing her forehead. “No wonder you’re cross.”

  “Are you sure? Do you have a thermometer?” Caleb’s irritation with his daughter’s awful behavior vanished, instantly replaced with dread. “Should we take her to the emergency room?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Children get fevers. I don’t believe her fever is high enough that you can’t wait to decide tomorrow if you should call her doctor.”

  “She doesn’t have one,” Caleb said. “I’ve been meaning to find one for her, but I’ve been so busy since we got to Delaware and I kept putting it off.”

  Rebecca hugged Amelia to her. “We do have a thermometer.”

  Caleb glanced in her direction, remembering that she’d urged him more than once to choose a pediatrician for Amelia. To her credit, she didn’t mention that now.

  “Susanna,” Rebecca called. “Can you get the thermometer from the downstairs bathroom cabinet?” She gave him a reassuring nod. “You can trust Mam. She’s tended enough sick children to know.”

  Caleb shook his head. “I wouldn’t have brought her here if I’d known she was ill. I can’t remember the last time she ran a fever.” Illness was one of the things that made him feel helpless with Amelia. “Give her to me,” he said.

  This time, Amelia went willingly and put her arms around his neck. “I want to go home,” she whimpered. “I want my baby doll.”

  Susanna returned with the thermometer and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Rebecca took both to the sink, poured a little alcohol over the thermometer to clean it before rinsing it with cool water. “Here, sweetie,” she said to Amelia. “Put this under your tongue.”

  Caleb rocked his child against his chest. He loved this child with every fiber of his being. Just the thought that she might have something seriously wrong with her terrified him. “Just for a moment,” he soothed. “Be a good girl and let Rebecca take your temperature.”

  Rebecca removed the thermometer and held it up to the light. “102 degrees,” she pronounced. “Not good, but not dangerous, either. She could be coming down with an ear infection or a cold.”

  “Or the flu,” Martha said helpfully.

  “Lots of flu going around,” Rebecca’s grossmama agreed. “My Jonas had it bad in the fall.”

  Caleb didn’t respond. Rebecca had explained that her grandmother Lovina’s memory was spotty at best, and that she often believed that her son, Jonas, Hannah’s late husband, was still alive. Furthermore, Rebecca explained, no one corrected the elderly woman because when Lovina did remember, she mourned Jonas’s death as deeply as if he’d just passed on, rather than dying years ago.

  “I don’t believe Amelia has the flu,” Hannah said. “She’s not throwing up, and she’s not complaining of aching joints. Rebecca could be right. It could be no more than a cold.”

  Caleb let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. A cold or an ear infection, he could deal with. “I’d best get her home,” he said. “Into her bed.” He looked back at Hannah. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “No such thing,” Lovina stated firmly. “It’s cold outside. Take that baby outside and she could die of an ague. Why take the chance when Jonas and Hannah have all these empty bedrooms? You can just tuck her into bed here.”

  “She’s right, Caleb,” Hannah agreed. “We can put Amelia into one of the spare rooms and we can help you care for her.”

  Caleb felt uncertain. He didn’t want to be a bother, but neither did he want to risk taking his daughter out of a warm house into the frigid air. What if Lovina was right and exposure made her worse? “If you’re sure I won’t be putting you out.”

  “If she’s got a fever in the afternoon, you can be certain it will go higher tonight.” Martha bustled around the table and gave Dorcas a small shove in his direction. “You and Amelia should stay here, Caleb. That way, Dorcas can assist you. It wouldn’t be proper, her going to your house. My Reuben’s always been careful of Dorcas’s reputation, especially now that you’ve done her the honor of paying court to her.”

  Caleb didn’t know what to say. “I’m not— We’re not—” he began, but Dorcas cut him off.

  “Ya,” she agreed, giving him the most genuine smile he’d ever seen on her face. “It’s gut, you and me talking like we are. It makes me pleased. But it wouldn’t be right, me taking care of your Amelia.” Her eyes glistened with hope. “Since we aren’t strictly a couple yet.”

  Caleb didn’t know what to say to clear things up without embarrassing her further, but he didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, either. So he just repeated what Dorcas had said. “You’re right, we aren’t a couple yet.” And then he added, “Nothing decided between us.”

  Dorcas lowered her head and blushed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get Mam to understand. We haven’t come to an understanding yet. We’re not really courting, just considering the possibility.”

  “Nonsense,” Lovina insisted. “Of course you’re courting. Dorcas is perfect for you. She’s a preacher’s daughter, isn’t she? And she’s been brought up properly.” She glanced pointedly at Rebecca. “Not like Hannah’s girls. A preacher has to remember his position. Dorcas is for you, Caleb Wittner, and the sooner you two quit stalling and cry the banns, the better.”

  Caleb didn’t know what to say. No one seemed to notice.

  “You don’t think Amelia will be sick to her stomach, do you?” Dorcas’s eyes widened as she backed away from him and Amelia. “I’m not much for tending sick people. If she throws up...” She shuddered. “I’d probably throw up, too.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

  “No matter,” Hannah said. “We’ll manage just fine.” She motioned to Caleb. “Bring the child into the bedroom and we’ll get her tucked in.”

  “I have Fritzy at home, and my livestock.” He looked down at Amelia. How small she seemed. Wisps of damp hair clung to her bright red cheeks. “I’m not sure what to do. I can’t just leave.”

  “Irwin can go and get Fritzy, and Amelia’s baby doll,” Rebecca suggested. “I know right where it is. And he can do your evening chores, can’t you, Irwin?”

  “Ya.” Irwin, still at the table, looked up from forking another piece of sweet-potato pie into his mouth.

  “It’s the least he can do.” Hannah led the way past the parlor to one of her downstairs bedrooms. “If it wasn’t for you, Caleb, Irwin would be in a lot more trouble than he is now.”

  Caleb followed Hannah’s directions and tucked Amelia into a bed in a spacious room across from the downstairs bath. He’d never seen the private areas of Hannah’s home before, but he was comforted by the homey feel of the chamber. The walls here were a pale blue, the furniture old and lovingly polished until the worn grain shone softly in the lamplight. A yellow-and-blue braid rug and several hand-worked quilts added color.

  “Used to be my room,” Lovina informed him as she walked into the bedroom behind them, her cane tapping. She settled herself into a high-backed rocking chair. “Before I went to live with Anna.”

  Hannah looked questioningly at her mother-in-law.

  “You just have that Irwin boy go by Anna’s and tell h
er I’m staying here with this sick child. Can’t have the new preacher here alone with you and my granddaughters.”

  “Lovina—” Hannah began.

  Rebecca’s grossmama cut her off with a wave of her cane. “Oh, I know you think my mind wanders. Sometimes it does, but I’m staying as long as Caleb does, and that’s that.” She turned her cane around and used the hand grip to drag a footstool closer. “I’ll prop my feet up and be as comfy as a hen in a nest.”

  Hannah stood in the doorway and sighed. “Of course, you’re welcome to stay if you wish, Mam.”

  The older woman scowled. “Lovina. I’m not your mother.”

  Hannah averted her eyes. “Ya, Lovina.” Going to a blanket chest, she removed a blanket and spread it over Lovina. “If there’s anything you want—”

  “If there’s anything I need, he can fetch it for me. He’ll have little enough to do, sitting here and watching the child sleep.”

  Hannah backed out of the room as Caleb drew an oak desk chair up beside the bed. Amelia’s face looked pale against the pillow, but she was already getting sleepy. “Are you warm enough?” he asked.

  “Don’t leave me, Dat.”

  He pulled a soft blue coverlet up to her chin. “I won’t, pumpkin.” Caleb continued to stroke Amelia’s hair. There was no sound but the child’s breathing and the patter of sleet against the window.

  “It’s a fine thing you’re doing, courting our Dorcas,” Lovina said in her thin, raspy voice. “She never was as pretty as Hannah’s girls, but pretty don’t last. Dorcas will make you a gut wife.”

  Caleb didn’t answer.

  “We’d given her up for an old maid,” Lovina continued. “Many a time she’d come crying to me, saying no decent man would ever have her. But I told her that God would see to her. I told her to pray for a husband, and here you come, a man with a solid house, two good hands and a voice for praising the Lord. He sent you to Dorcas, and don’t you forget it.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he said cautiously. “Dorcas is a fine young woman, but I’m not certain.”

  “None of that talk,” Lovina warned, shaking an arthritic finger at him. “You drop her like a hot potato and it will break her heart. No decent man comes to her mother’s table three weeks in a row and doesn’t pop the question.”

  The creak of door hinges caught Caleb’s attention and he glanced toward the hallway. Rebecca stood there, a basin of water in her hands. “I thought that a cool washcloth on her forehead might help.”

  “Go on with you, Rebecca,” Lovina chastised. “The preacher and I are having a private talk about his marriage to Dorcas. You go find Jonas and help him with the milking. You’re not needed here.”

  Rebecca set the basin and a clean washcloth and towel on the nightstand beside the bed.

  Caleb looked up at her. “Stay,” he said.

  “No place for you.” Lovina puckered up her mouth. “Dorcas should be here, being Caleb’s intended,” she muttered, seemingly speaking more to herself than to him or Rebecca now. “My Martha’s right. Her kapp’s set for Preacher Wittner.”

  Before Caleb could think of how to stop her, Rebecca quietly slipped from the room, leaving him alone with Amelia and Lovina. The elderly woman soon dozed off. And then he had nothing to do but sit, worry about his sick child and try to think about how to untie the tangled reins of his life.

  * * *

  Blinking back tears, Rebecca returned to the kitchen. No one was there but Dorcas, who was putting on her cloak by the back door. “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Oh, Rebecca!”

  To her surprise, Dorcas threw herself into her arms.

  “Danke. Danke,” Dorcas said, hugging her fiercely. “I know it should be me with his girl, but I just can’t!”

  “It’s nothing,” Rebecca answered, hugging her back. “You know sick children don’t bother me. And I adore Amelia.”

  Dorcas didn’t let go. “Not just for this, for Caleb. For helping me see what’s best, for helping me accept God’s plan for me,” she whispered.

  Rebecca pried her cousin’s hands loose and stepped back. She forced a weak smile.

  “I’d have to be stupid to refuse him, wouldn’t I? This is my chance. I have to take it, or I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it.” Dorcas tugged her faded cloak into place and began to tie the string at the throat. “I’ll get used to his face. I know I will. And he’s a kind man, a man of substance that I can respect. It will be a good marriage.”

  Rebecca’s heart sank. Ne. Not you, she wanted to say. I want him for my husband! But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to see the happiness on Dorcas’s face turn to anguish. “If Caleb asks you,” she reminded softly. “Nothing is decided yet. Not really.”

  “Not yet,” Dorcas said. “But soon. Mam will insist on it. The season for weddings is past, but Caleb is a widower. We can marry whenever we please, the sooner the better, really. What do I need with a big wedding?”

  “Dorcas!” Hannah called from the porch. “Your parents are waiting in the buggy.”

  “I have to go,” Dorcas said. “I’ll come again tomorrow to see how Amelia is. I’m sure it’s nothing, just a cold. But I’ll pray for her.”

  Rebecca nodded. “Ya. Prayer helps.”

  Her mother came into the kitchen and wiped her shoes on the mat. “Still nasty out there,” Hannah told Dorcas as she went out the door. “Tell your father to be careful on the road. Blacktop may be slippery.” She closed the door behind Dorcas and turned. “I definitely think you should go to Leah,” she said firmly. “Give Caleb time to make his choice.”

  “I think you’re right,” Rebecca said. She looked down at the floor, then back up at her mother. “I’ll go, but please, don’t tell anyone. Let me decide when.”

  Hannah’s shoulders slumped. “Daughter, daughter. How does that make it any easier on either of you?”

  “Not yet, Mam, please. Amelia is what’s important now. I promise I won’t do anything rash. Just let me have a little more time to make certain that Amelia’s Christmas isn’t ruined. I won’t be alone with Caleb, and I won’t give anyone reason to think ill of either of us.” She went to the cupboard and took down a white pottery pitcher. “Caleb will need cool water, in case Amelia is thirsty.”

  Hannah nodded. “All right. Just as long as you remember that happiness can’t ever be found in the ashes of someone else’s unhappiness.”

  A single tear welled up and splashed down Rebecca’s cheek, but she turned away so that her mother wouldn’t see it. “I keep telling myself that,” she murmured. “Over and over.”

  * * *

  Sometime after 2:00 a.m., Amelia’s fever did rise higher, and together, while Grossmama slept on in her chair, Rebecca and Caleb cared for the sick child. They took turns holding her and wiping her forehead and body with cool washcloths, fed her sips of willow bark tea and baby aspirin.

  “This is all my fault,” Caleb confided when Amelia fell asleep in his arms. “I should never have brought her to dinner. I should have noticed that she wasn’t feeling well when she didn’t eat her breakfast.”

  Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed. The weather outside had changed from sleet to rain, and now a downpour rattled against the windows as the wind whipped around the house. She was tired and concerned for Amelia, but she cherished this time together, just the two of them. Not that they were alone. Her grandmother was here, preserving moral decency, and Hannah came in from time to time to check on the patient.

  Rebecca kept her promise to her mother foremost in her mind. She and Caleb talked only about Amelia or everyday things that any neighbor might share. Twice, Caleb had read passages from the Bible, and they had prayed together for Amelia’s safe recovery. They had been careful that they didn’t sit too close or touch each other, yet she had never been more
conscious of him as a man.

  She rejoiced in the tenderness that Caleb showed toward Amelia. The only light in the room came from two propane lanterns, and the radiance of the love shining in Caleb’s eyes as he looked down at his daughter. If Dorcas could see him now, Rebecca thought, she wouldn’t see the scars that twisted the surface of his face, she would only see the goodness of this man and the depth of his character.

  Selfishly, Rebecca was glad that Dorcas wasn’t here. This was her time, and no matter what happened in the future, whether they could ever be together or not, no one could take this memory from her.

  By 3:00 a.m., the fever had broken and the crisis had passed. An hour later, when Rebecca fetched warm water to bathe the sweat from Amelia’s throat and chest, a small sprinkling of a rash was evident on the child’s skin. “Look at that,” Rebecca said.

  “What is it?” Caleb asked.

  “I’m not sure. It doesn’t look like chicken pox or measles. We can take her to a doctor in the morning, but maybe it doesn’t matter exactly what it is. Children get all kinds of things. What does matter is that her fever is gone and her color is better.”

  “You’re sure?” Caleb demanded. “You’re sure she’s—”

  “Dat.” Amelia’s eyelashes fluttered, and then opened wide. A smile spread across her face. “Dat, I’m hungry.”

  “You’re hungry?” he asked in disbelief. “What do you want to eat?”

  “Hush up,” Grossmama wheezed. “I’m trying to sleep. She told you the fever had passed, didn’t she? Men.” She groaned, drifted off and began to snore again.

  Rebecca met Caleb’s gaze and stifled a giggle. “You heard her, didn’t you?” she whispered. She smiled down at Amelia. “How about if I make you some toast with strawberry jam?”

  “Ya,” Amelia said. “And hot chocolate.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “No chocolate yet. Maybe some tea with honey.”

  “Okay.”

  Caleb reached over and clasped her hand. “Thank you,” he said. “Without you...” His voice choked with emotion. “Rebecca.” He swallowed visibly. “Rebecca, what are we going to do?”