by Bess McBride
“I think my family is going to get typhoid fever,” she began. “I think it’s going to come from eating tainted ice cream, and I think that ice cream is going to come from the drugstore, but before that, from a local dairy farm. I need help in trying to convince my relatives about the dangers of typhoid fever, especially from milk products. Maybe what I really need is for someone to inspect the ice cream and milk products for the bacteria.”
Dr. Mallory’s dark eyebrows couldn’t have lifted farther. He stared at Annie without speaking for a moment. His gaze shifted to the closed door, then back to her.
“What on earth makes you think they will get typhoid fever? There are no known outbreaks in the area this year.”
“This year?” Annie repeated. “So it’s not uncommon.”
“No, sadly, it does happen, but we usually find the source and shut that down until the situation is remedied. What is this about ice cream, milk, the drugstore and the dairy farm? Do you know something specific? Has someone you know fallen ill? One of the Sellers?”
Annie wrung her clasped hands and shook her head. “No, not yet, but I think they will. I’m certain of it, in fact.”
“How can you be certain? What do you know that I don’t know?”
I come from the future, she wanted to say. Annie couldn’t say that, not to a medical doctor with the power to commit her to an asylum, so she tried a half truth.
“I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. Could someone please look into the ice cream and milk from Goodie’s Drugstore and Swenson’s Dairy Farm...if that’s who supplies them?”
“Miss Warner, Annie...I can’t go to the health department with suspicions of what might happen. They would laugh at me. They will not investigate any products without definitive evidence of disease. To recall all ice cream products from a drugstore or march out to a dairy farm without any proof would cast unfair aspersions on these businesses. I know they are having a terrible outbreak of typhoid fever in Chicago just now, but we don’t have any patients who have contracted typhoid here in Lancaster at the moment.”
Annie’s frustration got the best of her. “Well, then how do you protect people in this time? You don’t have a vaccine, do you?”
“Yes, there is a vaccine available. It is quite expensive, but yes, there is a vaccine. It has been used by the military but is not yet widely available to the public. What do you mean...in this time?”
“Really? A vaccine? But wait—don’t vaccines take a while to offer immunity?”
“You seem very knowledgeable about vaccines, Annie. Yes, I read some literature stating that the vaccine might not be fully effective for one to two weeks after injection.”
“Well, it’s an interest of mine,” Annie said. She tried to remember her story. “My grandmother died from typhoid fever, and I felt so helpless to stop it. I was vaccinated about a year ago since I took a short trip to Costa Rica, but—”
“You have been immunized? You have traveled to Costa Rica? Very adventurous!”
“Oh, it was just a cruise,” Annie said, hoping they had cruises in 1913. She had no idea. “So could I get you to convince my cousins to get the vaccine?”
Dr. Mallory’s lips twisted in a sympathetic smile. “I am not certain how well you know Monroe and Belinda Sellers, Annie, but they do not have a lot of money. They could not afford the vaccines. Additionally, I do not know if the vaccine is safe for the children, and it most certainly wouldn’t be safe for the infants.”
“Oh, gosh, the babies...” Annie repeated. “No, I guess not. I didn’t know about the money. How can I repay you for the visit today? I don’t want you to charge them.”
“Of course I won’t. It was a pleasure to meet you. You are a very interesting person, enigmatic one might say.”
“I don’t think I’ve been called that before,” Annie said with a blush. “But thank you. Wait. I know! What about antibiotics? Are those around? That’s how typhoid is treated in the absence of a vaccine, right?”
Dr. Mallory shook his head. “I do not know what those are. I have never personally treated typhoid fever, but I believe it involves comfort care. How did you come upon that information? Is that a new treatment in Washington State, where you are from? I would be interested in learning more about that.”
Annie shook her head. Antibiotics would not be in use until 1928. She had edited a manuscript with that information, and the date had always stood out to her. Not in 1913 then.
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “I guess I heard that somewhere, but I don’t know where. Maybe I got the word wrong. I’m not sure.”
“If you think of the source, do please let me know.”
The ding of the bell in the waiting room caught their attention. Dr. Mallory rose.
“That must be Mrs. Fields, my next patient. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
Annie stood, racking her brain for a solution. “Despite the cost, would you be willing to talk to Belinda and Monroe regarding vaccines?” She stopped short and shook her head. “No, never mind. I forgot the period between inoculation and disease is about one to two weeks. That’s too late.”
“You certainly seem to have some familiarity with medical terminology, Annie. If you want me to speak to them, ask them to come in and see me. Again though, the cost is prohibitive. Let us hope it becomes more affordable in the future. I envision a day where everyone will become inoculated to all disease.” He paused and tilted his head. “What does your reference to ‘that’s too late’ mean?”
“As I said, I think they’re going to get sick, and a vaccine even now won’t help them.”
He stared at her with a puzzled expression. “I suppose I should ask the obvious. Have you told them how you feel?”
Annie nodded. “I’ve talked to Belinda. I don’t know if she talked to Monroe. I suggested that there might be a problem with the ice cream, the milk or the dairy farm. That didn’t go over really well.”
“Didn’t go over?”
“They really like their ice cream and milk.”
“Most people do. Again though, if you have specific knowledge of an outbreak, please let me know so I can forward that information to the public health department.” He opened the door and turned to her. “Anything that could be proven,” he added.
Annie nodded, though she had no idea how she was supposed to share what she knew in any meaningful way.
Belinda, talking to an elderly full-figured woman next to her on a bench, rose. “All done?” she asked.
“All done,” Annie said.
“Good day, ladies,” Dr. Mallory said.
“Just a minute, Doctor,” Belinda said, hurrying toward them. She lowered her voice. “Monroe will settle the bill. ”
“No need, Mrs. Sellers,” Dr. Mallory said with his charming, handsome smile. “All is settled.”
Belinda gave Annie a startled look. “Thank you!”
Annie turned to the doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Mallory.”
“My pleasure. Mrs. Fields!” he called out over their heads. “Come in.”
Belinda and Annie passed Mrs. Fields on their way out the door.
“That was a pleasant surprise,” Belinda said as they paused on the concrete steps of the building.
“He was very kind. I explained that I didn’t have money.”
“What did he recommend for your headaches?”
“Less anxiety,” Annie said without thinking.
“I beg your pardon?” Belinda asked.
Annie turned to her with a wry smile. “No, I was kidding. I’m sorry. He said to drink more water, sleep well and take aspirin as needed. I can get some when I get back to Washington. He didn’t think I needed glasses.” Annie was terrified at how glibly lies rolled off her tongue. Had time travel stolen her moral compass? No, perhaps it was only necessity. She hoped so.
“That sounds like sensible advice,” Belinda said. “I am pleased to hear that you don’t need glasses. Shall we?” She shifted the basket on her arm, lifted the
hem of her skirts and stepped down to the sidewalk, and Annie followed.
“Do you want me to carry that for you?” Annie asked as they walked.
“No, dear, I have it,” Belinda said with a smile, sounding every bit the grandmother that she would become one day.
“Where to?” Annie asked.
“To the market and then to the drugstore. I need more of that aspirin, since we talked about it.”
“The drugstore?” Annie repeated, her heart racing. No, surely, Belinda wasn’t about to buy ice cream, was she? If so, Annie was fully prepared to wrestle her second great-grandmother to the ground and dump the tainted ice cream into the street.
“Yes, do you mind?” Belinda, moving along the sidewalk, glanced at Annie.
“Not at all.”
They didn’t have to go far to reach a narrow three-story window-fronted building. Annie followed Belinda inside to see a surprisingly capacious store. It was nothing like the supermarkets she was used to at home, having instead the feeling of a large deli. Dry goods filled oak shelves behind an elongated counter. Wooden bins of vegetables and produce dotted the hardwood floors for the length of the building. The store consisted of only the first floor, and Annie assumed the second and third floors were living quarters. About a dozen customers, most of them women, shopped.
“I just need to pick up some flour and potatoes,” Belinda said. She stopped by one of the bins and picked out a handful of potatoes, stuffing them into her basket. Annie followed her to the counter, where a friendly man in white shirtsleeves and a tie greeted them.
“Mrs. Sellers! What can I get you today?” His white mustache widened under a welcoming smile.
“Just a bag of flour, Mr. Wilson.”
“Certainly.” He moved away and reached up to a shelf to get a paper sack of flour, which he returned to the counter. Belinda set her basket on the counter, and Mr. Wilson retrieved the potatoes, weighed them on a scale and returned all to the basket.
“That will be $1.18, Mrs. Sellers.”
Annie’s had been wondering at pricing, and she had her answer.
Belinda rummaged in a heretofore unknown coat pocket and retrieved a small change purse. She fished out the money and laid it on the counter. Mr. Wilson fiddled with an old-fashioned cash register, pushing buttons as if he had never operated it before. Annie wondered if that was just how he did things anyway.
“I hate to carry a purse, so I tend to put everything in my pockets,” Belinda said.
Annie nodded. “I hear you.”
“I’m glad you hear me. Was that something you were having trouble with as well? Did you tell the doctor?”
Mr. Wilson pushed the basket toward them. “Good day, ladies.”
“Good day, Mr. Wilson,” Belinda said.
Annie, her hand over her mouth to hide her smile, nodded at the store clerk before following Belinda out of the store. “No, that was just an expression. It meant I understand what you are saying and agree with you.”
“I hear you,” Belinda repeated. “How interesting. Off to the Goodie’s Drugstore.”
She stepped out, and Annie fell in beside her, her heart racing. The drugstore, the ice cream, tainted things, bacteria. Words tumbled over themselves in her mind. “How far is that?”
“Just a few buildings away. There is a large market in Penn Square, but I like to shop near my house. Monroe’s fruit market is there, and he brings most of our fresh foods home with him.”
She stopped in front of another glass-fronted building. A sign above it read “Goodie’s Drugstore.” The store was located on a corner—the corner drugstore.
Annie broke out in a sweat, though her hands were cold.
“Is this where—” She stopped. She could not continue to harass Belinda about ice cream. She truly felt she had only one more chance to convince Belinda before her great-great-grandmother forbade any further discussion on the matter.
Chapter Six
“Where what?” Belinda asked, pulling open the door.
“Where you were going to buy the aspirin?” Annie remembered Belinda had said so. Annie hadn’t imagined she would have the reaction to seeing the drugstore that she was.
“Yes, this is it.”
On leaden legs, Annie followed Belinda inside. Much like the market, the drugstore featured walls of oak shelves filled with goodies of all sorts. She was reminded of a small store she’d dropped in on while on a drive in the rural countryside—something that seemed lost in time.
A middle-aged bespectacled man in a white lab coat helped two ladies at a glass-topped counter on one side of the store, while a younger man, dressed rather formally in an oversized brown suit jacket and tie, handed out ice cream cones from behind another counter.
Annie froze in place, staring at the two children and their mother about to take their ice cream cones. Her first instinct was to scream “NO!” Her second was to run over and knock the ice cream from their hands.
The date was November 16, four days before Belinda’s typhoid infection was first diagnosed by a doctor. Who knew how long the bacteria had incubated in her system? Maybe there was still time! Wouldn’t the drugstore owner know if people were falling ill from his ice cream? She watched in horror as the children, a boy and a girl of about six and seven, licked their ice cream cones.
She heard Belinda’s voice from a distance and looked over to see her talking to the man in the lab coat. She assumed he was a pharmacist. If not, he dressed the part. Turning, she watched as the mother, probably in her late twenties, guided the children to one of two small round soda fountain–style tables near the ice cream counter. The children had red noses and cheeks, no doubt from the brisk weather outside.
It was too cold to be eating ice cream! Too cold. What was the woman thinking? Annie had a good mind to go over to her and demand to know that exact answer! Honestly!
She walked over to the ice cream counter and peered into the glass. Several steel canisters of colorful ice cream screamed disease...a parasite. She put a hand to her mouth, nauseous at the thought.
“What flavor would you like, miss? I have chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.”
“No, no,” she murmured, shaking her head violently. “No, nothing for me. No!”
Not much more than eighteen, the young man reared his head. “Very good, ma’am,” he said, as if trying to appease her. He turned away, when a voice came from behind her.
“Two vanilla cones, please!”
Annie turned to see a mother and a small boy ordering.
The mother, a lovely dark-haired twenty-something woman, gave Annie a bright smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Had you ordered?” she asked Annie.
“No,” Annie muttered.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “We’ll wait out turn, won’t we, Ted?”
Annie stared at the boy, about four. Dark haired like his mother, his brown eyes sparkled at the idea of ice cream. He wasn’t Teddie, but he had the same name.
Annie couldn’t help herself. “Don’t get ice cream from here,” she said in a low voice to the woman. “Don’t. It could be tainted with typhoid. Please don’t.”
“I beg your pardon?” the young woman asked.
“Please don’t buy ice cream here for your son, or anywhere for that matter, not for a while. I think there is or is going to be a typhoid outbreak from ice cream, or wherever it comes from.”
Her mouth hung open, and young Ted, hearing them and understanding something was amiss, started to cry.
“Mama, I want ice cream!”
“Just a minute there, ma’am!” the young man said, his cheeks a high red. “Father!” he called out loudly.
Annie whirled around, but Mr. Goodie didn’t hear his son.
“Don’t bother! I’m leaving!” she said hurriedly.
“Father!” he called out again. The man in the lab coat looked up, and Belinda turned.
Ted wailed, and his mother pulled him from the store.
“No, Ted, we are leaving!” she
said.
Mr. Goodie crossed the store, and Belinda followed.
“What seems to be the trouble here, Jerry?”
“Fa-Father!” Jerry stuttered in his anger. “This woman told a customer not to buy ice cream here, as it had typhoid! And she left!”
“Annie!” Belinda chided. “You didn’t!”
Annie hung her head.
“Is that true, young woman?” Mr. Goodie asked. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Mr. Goodie, Miss Warner is my cousin,” Belinda said in a placating voice. “I am sure she didn’t mean any harm.”
Mr. Goodie, blue eyes blazing under thick white eyebrows, turned on Belinda. “To spread such rumors is harmful, Mrs. Sellers! I do not know how far Mrs. Rogers will spread that gossip. It could ruin my business!”
“I’m sorry,” Annie started. She was cut off.
“You should be!” Mr. Goodie exclaimed.
Jerry continued to watch her with an appalled expression. “What cause had you to say such a thing?”
“Mr. Goodie, Annie lost someone dear to her due to typhoid from ice cream. I am afraid she is just overzealous in her attempts to protect others. I should not have brought her to your store.”
“No, ma’am, you should not!” he thundered. “Please take her out of here, and if there is another store where you wish to shop in the future, I suggest you do that!”
“Do you mean me, Mr. Goodie?” Belinda asked, her own blue eyes starting to flash, her cheeks red. “Are you suggesting I am not welcome in your store again?”
“I certainly do!”
“Happily!” she barked. She grabbed Annie by the arm and sailed out of the store, all but slamming the door behind her. She pulled Annie down the steps and stalked away from the store before slowing. Stopping, she turned Annie to face her.
“Why on earth did you do something like that, Annie? You spread a rumor when you had no proof!”
“I know, I know,” Annie said. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. The little boy’s name was Ted. I thought of Teddie, and all I could do was try to save the little boy’s life.”
Belinda put a hand to her throat. “Teddie! Save whose life? What does Teddie have to do with all of this?”
