He hurried to the kitchen, heated water then placed tea in a tin mug. William added water when it boiled and stirred in lemon and honey.
Returning to the bedroom he forced Kimimela to a sitting position.
“Please Andre. Let me rest.”
“Drink this Mrs. Holt.”
“Must I?”
“Yes,” William replied with more anger than he intended.
She swallowed a bit of the liquid. “Enough Andre,” she pleaded. “I’m so worn.”
In a firm voice, William told her, “Not until you finish this.” He held the cup up to her lips.
“I will but please don’t raise your voice.”
It required a number of minutes but she drained the last of the tea. William helped her lie back and pulled her blankets up to her chin. He watched her for a while and checked her breathing.
“Thank you, for that,” Monica said. She stood in the doorway to her mother’s room.
He retrieved the empty cup and took it to the kitchen.
Still wrapped in the down quilt, Monica followed.
As he washed the cup he glanced at Monica and said, “She thought I was your dad.”
“I heard. When you raised your voice, you sounded like him.”
“I didn’t mean to get loud. You should get back to sleep.”
“Mom’s awfully sick.”
“She is.”
Monica said, “Some folks are dying.”
“Lots of Indians as well. Mom said Dr. Young went up to Ft. Vancouver to help them.” Her lower lip quivered. “It was bad enough when Dad died. I don’t want to end up just me and the twins.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
“You won’t be alone. You’ve got family…cousins at least.”
Monica smiled and nodded. She crossed the room and stood close; then put her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. “Thank you, Cousin.”
William returned her embrace. “The rest of the night, I’ll stay by your mom. Get back to sleep. I don’t need you as sick as she is.”
Chapter Nineteen: The Death Toll Rises
The following day, William rose with the sun. Mrs. Holt slept quietly and no longer shivered he noted. Passing the fireplace on his way to the kitchen, he made a mental note to bring in more wood.
Placing barley in boiling water, he took dried apple slices and chopped them into small pieces. He had just finished filling a kettle for tea when he heard footsteps entering the residence.
“Hi Mom.”
“How are your patients?” Myra asked.
“Monica is still sick but she’s eating. Mrs. Holt’s head was hot and sweat covered last night. She was talking to me as if I was her husband.”
“Not a good sign. Is she eating?”
“Yes, but I fed her like a baby.”
“Dr. Beckham stopped by yesterday. He said to keep everyone eating, drinking, and praying.”
“How are things at home?”
“Celeste is doing well. She’ll rest today and tomorrow. If she continues to improve, I’ll send her over to help you. Shifra slept through the night so she’s on the mend. Ciara is alternating huge sweats and shivering. Her head was on fire last night. She keeps having nightmares but seems to be hanging on.”
“Aunt Kathleen’s family?”
“Brace yourself.”
“Oh no.”
“Jack may not make it another day.”
“Uncle Jack’s only child.”
“Aunt Kathleen’s started hallucinating. They’re having a terrible time trying to get her to eat or drink. Aunt Daire is helping with Angela and Jack but suffering terrible coughs. They’re talking to Dr. Beckham about what to do.”
“Anyone else I know real sick?”
“Esther Khasina. The flu killed her.” Myra stopped speaking to take a deep breath before continuing. “Robert, her husband, is so upset he can barely talk. I heard he hasn’t eaten since his wife died.”
“Does Shifra know?”
“We told her about Esther this morning. She’s wrapped herself around Celeste.”
“Anyone other folks?”
“There will be. Mr. Goldenberg and Mr. Goodman stopped by to see your father. They’re going to ask everyone in the Jewish community for donations to buy more land for the Jewish cemetery.”
“How are you, Mom?”
Myra smiled. “Thank you for asking. Tired but okay. Glad I got over this when you did.”
“Something smells good,” Monica said, entering the kitchen. “Oh. Hi, Mrs. Kaplan.”
“Feeling better, Monica?” Myra asked.
“I’m hungry for the first time in a week.”
“Good sign,” Myra said with a grin.
William put food and tea on the table for them.
“Will you please check on Mom?” Monica asked.
“Of course, dear. Right away.”
William and Monica ate until Myra returned.
“Your mother recognized me but still has a fever. When you’ve finished get her a meal with tea. Make sure she rests. That includes you, Monica. Getting up too soon can make you sick again. I’ve brought ingredients for Irish stew.”
Monica smiled. “Lots of Irish meals.”
“I grew up with them as did my children. It warms me to serve them.” Myra smiled. “Monica, when you’re finished eating, would help your mom eat?”
“Sure.”
“Take a scoop of the cooked barley and stir in a little molasses. It’s already got raisins and dried apple in it.” Myra sighed. “Heading home. Lots to do over there.”
* * *
“Good morning,” Kim said as Monica entered her room carrying the bowl of breakfast barley and a mug of tea. “Crazy dream last night. I was talking to your father. He told me I must get well so I could take care of you and the twins.” She stretched. “I feel so weak. Help me sit up. Someone chopping wood?”
“William. He sat with you most of the night.”
“Is he taking care of you?”
Monica nodded. “One of Mr. Anchote’s children died. Lucas, I was told.”
“That happy little boy…how sad. Have any customers come by?”
“The streets are deserted. Until this sickness ends everyone’s afraid to leave home.”
Kim took a deep breath. “What’s the delightful smell?”
“William’s baking Irish soda bread. Mrs. Kaplan brought ingredients for bread and stew. William said taking care of us was Mrs. Kaplan’s idea.”
“The Lord bless her for her kindness.”
Kimimela sipped her tea. “William is quite the young man. How’s their family?”
“Healing. Mr. Kaplan is living full time at his sister-in-law’s home to help them. All bed ridden and their son Jack is deathly ill. William said many Indians are dying. Dr. Young went up to Ft. Vancouver to help. We were worried about you.”
“Every joint in my body aches but I have so much work. I should get out of bed.”
“No,” Monica said, putting a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mrs. Kaplan said if you do too much right away you’ll get sicker. Besides. I’m well enough to help him.”
“Help him?”
“And you.”
“Monica, he lives in a different world than we do.”
* * *
Myra arrived home. Celeste sat in the kitchen with Shifra.
“You need to eat,” her daughter said to the nine-year-old. She ate two spoonsful of barley cereal, dropped the spoon, sobbed and reached for Celeste who pulled her onto her lap.
“Need anything?” Myra asked Celeste.
“Check on Ciara. She’s got an awful fever.”
“Oh no. God no.”
Myra ran into the children’s room with Celeste and Shifra following.
She checked Ciara who responded to her touch with a weak smile. “Celeste,” Myra said, “Get tea for Ciara. Warm but not hot.” Her daughter scampered out of the room but returned quickly.
“Here Ciara,” Celeste said as sh
e lifter her sister’s head. “Warm but not hot.” She brought the mug up to Ciara’s lips. She swallowed twice but coughed on the third sip. “Take your time. Shifra and I are right here with you, little sister.”
Ciara took a deep breath and continued sipping the tea.
* * *
“How are things at Aunt Kathleen’s,” Celeste asked David when he entered their home. Ciara and Shifra, on either side of Celeste and leaning against her, were bundled in blankets while the trio sat on a couch in the parlor.
David’s expression was grim. “Jack seems to be better today. I haven’t told your mother yet but after two days of delirium and high temperatures, Aunt Kathleen died. We tried and tried to get her to eat and drink but to no avail. I dread having to tell your mom.”
“She’s resting in her room.”
David shook his head. “It’s hard to believe, Kathleen was strong as an ox then is brought down by this sickness.”
He gazed at Celeste. “How are you feeling?”
“Weak but much better overall.”
“Someone from the family needs to tell William about Kathleen. If he needs anything, he’ll have to let us know or come get it himself.”
“I’ll go.” She turned to her young charges. “Ciara you stay here and try to get some sleep.” Ciara nodded and put her arms out toward David who picked her up. He held her for a bit then placed her on the couch and tucked a blanket around her.
“I’ll be with Mom,” David said.
“Shifra, I’m walking to the Holt’s. Want to come?”
She nodded. Using both hands, she wiped tears off her cheeks.
Celeste gathered warm outer wear. Someone knocked on their front door. Dr. Beckham stood there wearing a sullen expression. “I heard Shifra was staying here.”
“She is.”
“Can I talk to your dad?”
They heard Myra scream.
“Dad must have told her about Aunt Kathleen’s death.”
He looked down and shook his head. “I feel so damn helpless against this shit.” His gaze returned to Celeste. “Sorry about the language.” Dr. Beckham noted Shifra standing behind her. “Celeste, step outside and close the door.”
She turned to Shifra. “I need to talk to Dr. Beckham. Please wait here.”
In a quiet voice, he said, “Shifra’s father died this morning.”
Celeste sucked in her breath. “I heard he was ill.”
“Someone needs to tell Shifra.”
“We’re close so it should be me. Poor girl. She’s going to feel so alone.”
“Can she stay here until we find a place for her?”
“Of course.”
* * *
With a hood pulled over her head and a scarf wrapped across her face, only Shifra’s eyes shown as the thoroughly bundled twosome trudged to the dress shop in an icy wind.
Celeste related their aunt’s death to William.
“How’s mom taking it?”
“Rough. Really Rough.”
“Poor Mom.”
“Dad’s with her. She was crying and crying when we left.” Celeste and William exchanged sad expressions.
“Aunt Kathleen,” William said, “survived the Irish Potato famine, the abusive man who paid her passage to the U.S. and worked endless hours running the warehouse until we came out.”
“She was so strong. I remember Dad teasing her about being a cowboy.”
William shook his head. “All that and this damn flu crap destroyed her. How can a young one like cousin Jack survive but not his strong-as-can-be Mom? I get the feeling doctors know next to nothing about diseases like this.”
“Perhaps our generation will step up and find something. I’m not sure,” Celeste said, “how to describe this but…you know how we say Ciara’s eyes always sparkle? The sparkle is gone and she’s not animated like before. She was burning up for a few nights.”
“I wonder how that affected her.”
Celeste dragged a rocking chair over to the fireplace.
“Let’s sit down over here Shifra. I have something to tell you.”
“Is your face sad because so much death?” Shifra asked.
Celeste lifted Shifra onto her lap. “Your father died.”
The young one shook her head. “No. He’s fine. He told me he wasn’t so sick.”
“Something happened after your mom passed.”
“I don’t have a mom or dad anymore?”
Celeste shook her head. “Shifra, I’m so sorry.”
“So we girls need my dad.”
“He’s gone, sweetness.”
“What’s going to happen to me? Where will I live?”
“I don’t know. But for now, we girls will stick together.” Celeste held the youngster’s head against her chest. Shifra’s body quaked as she wept.
An hour later, the wind howled and rattled the building. Gazing out a window, Celeste saw snowflakes the size of cotton balls. She cursed. “This damn weather is making everything worse.”
William put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I think you and Shifra should stay here. I checked their root cellar. We’ve got enough food for today and tomorrow.” He patted Shifra. “I’ll walk over to our house when we need more.”
“Celeste,” Monica said. “You’re sweating.”
“I think the walk over here tired me.”
“You can sleep in my room. I’ve been sleeping out here on the couch.”
“C’mon, Shifra. We’ll rest for a bit.”
* * *
A few hours later, the twins appeared in the kitchen where William and Monica were preparing dinner.
Alex said, “Mrs. Anchote brought us home. She’s going to her sister’s funeral today.”
Monica said, “Go take your coats off and come back to the kitchen for a mug of tea.”
“How is your family?” Andre asked.
William placed a steaming mug in front of each of the boys.
“Sick but healing.”
Andre asked, “What about Ciara?”
His brother stated, “Andre thinks Ciara is his girlfriend.”
Andre said, “Knock it off. We’re just friends.”
Alex opened his mouth to reply but a look from William silenced both. The boys returned to sipping their tea.
After emptying his cup, Alex asked, “Why do they have funerals?”
“They bury the body and people say goodbye to their loved one,” Monica answered while chopping carrots.
The young boys leaned toward each other and engaged in a whispered conversation and then giggled.
Monica eyed them. “What’s so funny?”
“You guys look like a mom and dad,” Andre said.
“Why?” Monica asked with a smile.
Alex explained, “You’re taking care of everybody and smile at each other so much.”
The teens exchanged embarrassed glances.
“Alex,” Monica said. “Tell Celeste and Shifra that dinner is ready.”
“What happens at a funeral?” Shifra asked Celeste as they ate.
“Your parent’s bodies will each be in a box and they’ll be placed in their final resting place.”
“When will it happen?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I wish I could talk to them.”
“You can still talk to them in your head. I’ve done that for years with my parents and brother.”
“Will you stay next to me?”
“Of course.”
* * *
At the Jewish Cemetery, grim Shifra remained wrapped around Celeste as they both choked back tears.
Dov Rifkin cleared his throat. “We’ve gathered here today to say goodbye to family and friends.”
After the ceremony, David addressed Andrew, “Shifra needs a place to live.”
“My niece is welcome to stay with me,” Andrew said.
Hearing this, Shifra wrapped her arms around Celeste. “You always say, we girls need to help each other. You need to help me sta
y with you.”
Celeste’s eyes pleaded with David. He turned to Andrew. “You have every legal right to have her live with you but for whatever reason, she feels closer to Celeste.”
Andrew opened his mouth to say something but choked on a few tears first. “You’re right, David.” He turned to Shifra. “If you live with Celeste, will you still visit Cousin Jack, and Uncle Andrew?”
Shifra eyed Celeste who placed her arm around the young girl’s shoulder. “Of course she will. Family is most important for…us girls.” Shifra nodded. Celeste continued, “In fact we were hoping you and cousin Jack might join us for the Sabbath once this sickness ends.”
On the walk home, Myra said to Celeste, “This will be a huge burden on you.”
Celeste put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “I’ll be fine. Nearly all my life, I’ve been watching you Myra raise someone else’s children as if they were her own. Besides, I think I was born to raise children.”
Chapter Twenty: More Family Changes
In the midst of another snow storm and late at night, an old woman knocked on the door of the dress shop. Monica unlocked the door and greeted her. She was thoroughly bundled in a scarf and leather clothing. The woman brushed snow off her clothing and stamped her feet.
Monica asked, “Can I help you?”
“Kimimela please,” the old woman said with a thick accent. She pulled down her hood and opened her jacket.
“Kimimela is my mother,” Monica said, thinking it odd as few people used her mother’s Indian name.
“Yes,” the old woman said while nodding and smiling. “Kimimela mother.” She pointed to herself.
Monica’s jaw dropped. She took two fast steps toward the residence, then spun around and ran back to her grandmother, embracing her. She pointed to herself. “Kimimela’s daughter.”
The old woman grinned and put her hand on Monica’s cheek. The fourteen-year-old assisted her while she peeled off her jacket and snow boots, then held her hand while entering the residence.
The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific Page 11
