The Pioneer: A Journey to the Pacific
Page 17
“Oh yes. The tea drinkers. Don’t know how that could relate to what we’ve found so far.”
“Just one more fact.”
William nodded. “True. I’ll add a note about it.”
Someone knocked on the front door. Shifra answered and returned with a note for William.
He scanned it and said, “More Cholera. Dr. Simpson wants to meet with all the doctors in town. I need to leave.”
“Can I show Zadie the drawings I made with the microscope?” Shifra asked.
“Sure.”
“You let her use that delicate and expensive instrument?” David asked.
William patted his daughter’s head. “Not only does she use it with great care, but I have some of Shifra’s drawings at school to demonstrate to my students what careful observation can yield.”
She ran to her room and returned with a stack of drawings.
“You saw all this through the microscope?” wide-eyed David said to his granddaughter as he paged through her drawings. “Shifra, this is amazing,”
“They’re mostly drops of water from around town,” she said. “I annotated the source and date of each material I put under the microscope.”
“What’s this?”
“A leaf slice from one of our peach trees. Dad said most life seems to be made of connected cells like a honey comb.”
“And this one?” David pointed to a drawing with lots of round structures.
“I got in lots of trouble for that one. I made a little cut in my finger and put a drop of blood on a slide. Dad was upset because I cut my finger but then spent hours reviewing the three drawings I made. I think one of those drawings is on the wall in his office.”
“My granddaughter the scientist,” David said as the gave her a brief embrace.
* * *
Following dinner a week later, Shifra approached William.
“Dad, we learned about science experiments in school this week. We each have to do one but I’m not sure what to do.”
William became pensive. “Try putting water on a slide then observe it. Add a drop or so of beer, let some time pass and observe again for changes. Also take another water sample from the same source, observe it, then heat the sample hot enough for tea and see if there are any changes. I’ll provide the water samples.”
* * *
Max Unger leaned over the bar to address the young girl who walked into his tavern.
“You looking for someone?” he said.
“I need some beer, please” Shifra said.
“I don’t sell to children without a note from their parents.”
“My Dad sent me for a few drops.”
He smiled. “Drops?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And your father is?”
“Dr. Kaplan.”
“He knows you’re here?”
“Yes sir. You can put them in this, please.” Shifra removed the lid from a tiny jar.
He put a small amount of beer in her jar and held it up to the light. “That’s about ten drops. Enough?”
“Yes, sir. How much does it cost?”
Max thought for a moment and said. “You are one polite young lady so there’s no charge. What are you going to do with the beer?”
“It’s for a science experiment.”
The proprietor’s broad smile couldn’t be missed. “You have a nice day young lady.”
* * *
A week passed. William asked, “How was your science experiment?”
She retrieved a paper from her room and handed it to him.
“You received a top grade. Excellent work.” William quickly scanned the paper then handed it back to her. “Wait. Let me see that again.” He re-read her paper. “Where are the drawings you made for the experiment. Shifra found them and handed them to her father. He reviewed the supporting microscope observations. “Oh hell.” He stood and put on his coat. “Celeste! I’m going out. We need to have a school board meeting.”
“You had one two days ago. What’s going on?” Celeste asked.
“No time. I’ll tell you later.” He ran out the front door; Shifra’s science papers still in his hand.
Celeste turned to Shifra. “What was that about?”
Her daughter shrugged.
* * *
Celeste was busy knitting while seated on a rocker in front of the parlor’s fire place when William returned late that night. He plopped into an overstuffed chair which faced the fireplace.
“Tell me what’s going on?” she asked.
“Your daughter’s science experiment.”
“Caused a school board meeting?”
“Everything I’ve studied about cholera says it’s caused by bad air. Even though it makes less and less sense, I’ve been telling folks that for years.”
“And?”
“What if it’s bad water? John Snow’s analysis of the London cholera outbreak implies something in water is the cause.” He hoisted and waved Shifra’s paper. “I told our daughter to add beer to a water sample and boil another sample. Her science experiment lends credence to the idea that bad water is at the root of this disease.”
“How did she demonstrate that?”
“She put a drop of water under the microscope and observed the usual creatures moving about. Shifra added a drop of beer. They quit moving.”
Celeste laughed. “Even people quit moving if they drink enough beer.”
“She checked them a day later and there was still no movement.”
“The beer killed the waterborne creatures?”
William nodded. “Same with boiled water. If you remember, the beer brewer and the tea drinkers survived the cholera outbreak.”
“How did this necessitate the school board convening?”
“Last meeting, we appropriated money to move the school’s outhouse closer to the school. Miss Pringle asked for that so the children don’t get soaked when it’s raining.”
Celeste consider his words. “Closer would mean closer to the well the children drink from.”
“Exactly. What if, somehow, bad water from the outhouse reached the well? Fortunately, tonight everyone agreed to move it to the other side of the building. We’ll have to add a door to that side of the school but it should be safer. I’ll spread the word to the other doctors. We’ll attack this disease like water is the problem and see what happens.”
Chapter Thirty: More Babies
“Good news,” David said, holding up a newspaper as he entered their home. “Lee surrendered April Ninth. The Civil War is over.”
“Thank heavens,” Myra said. “Abbey and the soldiers will be coming home.”
“Many are crippled.”
“How will they be employed?”
“I’ll talk to my supervisors. We’ll need lots of ideas for that.”
Six weeks later, Myra’s face was radiant as she shouted to David. “We received a letter from Abbey,” Myra said. She sat next to her husband, tore the letter open, and scanned it. “She’s staying on the east coast. A fellow doctor from the war offered her a place in his practice.”
“Won’t have much chance to see her if she’s out there.”
With an expression of concern, Myra said, “She said she’ll be out here some months from now. Our oldest wants to have her baby in our home.”
“Baby? What baby?”
* * *
The rare early January sunshine warmed them as they swayed on rocking chairs on the front porch of Myra and David’s home.
“I’m so happy you came home to have your child,” Myra said.
Abby said, “I almost didn’t when I learned of the cholera outbreak.”
“It was decided to close some wells in the crowded parts of town. The disease seemed to end after that.”
Abbey twisted on her chair. “I can’t seem to get comfortable.”
“How was your trip?”
“Miserable. What a blessing when the railroads completely cross the continent instead of riding between
trains on those wretched stagecoaches. I’m glad to be home but I’ll be returning to my practice on the east coast.”
“How was doctoring in the war?”
“A nightmare.”
“Tell me about it?”
“I’ve developed huge muscles in my back, shoulders and arms.”
“How?”
“Sawing off limbs and restraining men who were about to have limbs amputated.”
“What a horror. I can’t imagine how you handled that.” Myra folded her hands in her lap and said in a quiet tone, “Is that all that’s troubling you?”
Abbey looked away.
“You’ve been depressed since you arrived home? Why so sullen?”
“Nothing I’m willing to talk about.”
“You and I were always close. Even when you were six. My eyes filled with tears the first time you called me Mom.”
Abbey took a deep breath and folded her arms across her chest. “I was a child who needed a mother.”
They both stared at the street while slowly rocking. Thirty minutes transpired without conversation. Finally, Myra turned to her oldest daughter. “Pregnant, no husband, extreme anger and bitterness…and you won’t talk to me.”
“Talking won’t help. Getting this damn child out of me will.” She tried to cross her legs but her belly got in the way. “Ouch!”
“What?”
“It keeps kicking me.”
“Most women find joy in that.”
Abbey twisted uncomfortably on the rocker. “Most women…” She stopped talking, her angry eyes followed a carriage bouncing its way down the rutted street.
“Abbey, I want to help no matter what…”
“It’s too painful to discuss.”
“Talk to Dad. Talk to William. Please, it can’t be good to keep whatever this problem is bottled up inside you.”
Abbey said with a smirk, “Believe me. I know about the danger of bottled up emotions.”
“Then talk…”
Abbey gripped the arms of her rocking chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Let it go, Mother, or I’ll stay at a hotel.”
Deep sorrow etched Myra’s face.
Abbey added, “You’re making me think it was a mistake to come home.”
Myra leaned forward, her shoulders drooped as she stared at the street. “I won’t bring it up again.” She turned to Abbey. “Celeste and William will be bringing their newborn Jonah to synagogue tonight. I hope you’ll come with.”
“The last thing I want is to be around a newborn.”
Myra put a hand on Abbey’s. Her daughter jerked her hand away, stood and walked into the house. Myra shook her head as she listened to Abbey’s footsteps while she climbed to the second floor.
* * *
Her just delivered son was placed on her belly.
“GET IT OFF ME,” Abbey screamed.
Celeste gently lifted the tiny one, waited until the umbilical was severed then wrapped him in a blanket and cuddled him to her chest. Leaving the room she whispered, “Don’t you worry. There’s plenty of love for you in our home.”
Myra screamed, “No! Celeste, come back here. She has to hold her child.”
“I WON’T HOLD THE DAMN THING.”
“Stop it, Abbey. This is your son.”
“BE QUIET MOTHER.”
“Dad,” Celeste yelled. “Get Mom out of there. She’s upsetting Abbey.”
David entered and moved between Myra and Abbey. “You’re making things worse.”
“But she didn’t even hold him.”
He put an arm around her and guided her to their bedroom.
“Something awful must have happened.”
“When she’s ready, she’ll tell us.” David shrugged. “Or not.”
* * *
Abbey called William to her side that evening. “Please close the door so we can talk privately.”
He did and sat on a chair next to her bed.
“I need your help. I want my bags packed and I want you to help me get to the train station before sunup tomorrow.”
He leaned back in the chair. “I’ll help you leave with two conditions.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What?”
“When you’re back on the east coast, you’ll talk to someone about what happened to you.”
“It’s not anyone else’s business.”
“You’re killing my sister.”
She folded her arms. “I am not killing myself.”
“If you don’t get help…”
“This is my problem; not yours.”
“We’re family. It’s our problem.”
Abbey shook her head.
“Either promise me or I’m walking away.” He stood up.
“Fine. I give you my word I’ll talk to someone as soon as I’m back east.”
“A professional.”
She nodded.
“And you’ll ask him to write me a letter stating he talked to you.”
Abbey didn’t reply.
“I don’t want to know what happened; just that you’re getting help.”
Staring at William with an angry expression. She sighed noisily. “I will.”
“What about your child?”
“I don’t care what you do with it.”
“I’ll be right back.” He returned with a sheet of paper. “Read, then sign and date this.”
She read the document aloud. “I hereby give up all legal and parental rights to the child born this date and transfer them to William and Celeste Kaplan.”
* * *
“You helped her leave?” Myra asked William at breakfast.
“Yes. With some conditions.”
“Which were?” David asked.
“First, she’s promised to talk to a professional about what happened. From what I’ve learned, my blessed sister won’t begin to heal until she can discuss what happened.”
“I’ll pray it will help,” David said.
“Abbey also signed a paper transferring legal and parental rights for her son to Celeste and me.”
David and Myra exchanged surprised glances.
Celeste said, “William and I had a long discussion about this when it became apparent Abbey had no interest in her child. Andrew Khasina created a legal document for us. William and I decided this would be best for her child.”
After giving her parents a chance to digest the news, Celeste switched to a cheery voice. “I propose naming him Ethan after my brother.” She shifted slightly and put Ethan on her breast.
Myra said, “You’ve gone from two children to four in a matter of weeks.”
William said, “I’ve found a larger home.”
“I’ll arrange for men from the warehouse to help move your things,” David said. “On a different subject, I’ve been talking to Fred Levin. He has a proposal for a new business. We’d be getting into boat building. It could be a good time as the war has ended and Alaskan commerce seems to be picking up.”
Myra turned to Celeste and put a hand on her shoulder. “I can stay with you as long as you need help.”
Celeste smiled. “That will be a blessing.” She studied Ethan, ran a finger down his cheek, and kissed him. “When Dr. Beckham came over to check on Ethan, I expressed my concern that I won’t have enough milk for two babies. He said, ‘Your body will adjust just like a mom with twins.’” Celeste blushed. “Now I know why the Lord gave me such a large chest.”
Laughter filled the room.
Chapter Thirty-One: Arranged Marriages
“Mordechai,” Ismael Gershom the baker said to his son, “Bring me two cups of flour.”
“Yes, Papa.” The nine-year-old carefully filled the two-cup-measure.
Approaching his father, he tripped. The flour measure went flying, depositing its contents in a wide swath across the floor.
Mordechai jumped up trembling. “I’ll clean it up.”
“Clean it up? Who’s going to pay for the flour.” He slapped and kicked his son.
He stepped back; fury still etched in his face. Mr. Gershom slapped the side of her head and punched his daughter in the belly. She doubled over in pain.
“Both of you! Clean up this mess.” He left the room as his wife Bessie, walked in.
“Mama, can’t you stop him?” Sophie pleaded, putting a cold rag on her head to calm her raging headache.
“If I interfere he beats me. If he kills me, who will care for you and your brother?”
“One of these days he’s going to kill Mordechai.”
“You on the other hand, are old enough to leave.”
“No. Better he hits me than Mordechai. Is there no one you can tell?”
“Your father is widely respected. Who would believe me?”
* * *
“How dare you set this up without telling me?” Sophie Gershom raged at her parents. She raised her arms in exasperation and stamped her foot. They were standing in the living room of their home, located over her parent’s bakery.
“This is a wonderful match,” her father said. “You’ve known him all three-years we’ve lived here. Matis, the butcher’s son, is a good boy and one day he’ll inherit his father’s business. You’ll bring the bakery and he’ll bring the butcher shop. Both of you are Orthodox. What could be better?”
Sophie stamped her foot again and crossed her arms. “I want an educated and intelligent man…someone who knows Torah and Hebrew better than I do; at least someone who is as smart as I am. Not some dolt!”
Ismael turned to his wife. “Listen to this. Who filled her head with these crazy ideas? I didn’t!”
Eva said, “You should be proud you have an educated daughter.”