Lyn Cote (15 page)

The sympathy on Mr. Lang’s face nearly brought her to tears. “Miss Thurston, you are not to blame for any of this,” he said.

She couldn’t trust herself to respond to his kind words.

“I will get William and supplies then return to be with my nephew. Noah, please tell Gunther to stay home.”

Ellen heard the anxiety in his voice. She wished she could reassure him, offer him hope. But she could not mouth false platitudes in the face of this thing that had come against them all.

“Those of you with no children at school should go home now and stay there,” Noah said. “Don’t come into town until this is passed. Miss Thurston, if you need me, send for me.” Then he began to pray aloud. “Heavenly Father, help us. Preserve the lives and sight of our children. All of us. Amen.”

“I’m taking Amanda home,” Mrs. Ashford said. “But I’ll bring food and medicine by suppertime.”

Ellen nodded but she was more aware of Kurt as he hurried off to bring William home to her. She was touched by his willingness to help others—to help her.

Given permission to claim their children and take them home, people milled in front of the door and consulted one another. The unclaimed children fidgeted inside the schoolroom, looking out the door and windows, waiting while their parents decided what to do.

Their worry flared palpably. If they decided the mother would stay, the parting of husband and wife and child at the schoolroom door touched Ellen’s heart. Especially heartbreaking to watch fathers say goodbye without touching their children.

Ellen struggled against cold waves of fear coursing through her. She tried to pray but no words came.

Chapter Fifteen

W
ord continued to spread and by evening, all children had either been taken home or remained in quarantine with their mothers. Kurt watched as families dealt with the crisis and tried to face it as bravely as they could.

The quarantined group at the school included Marta’s children, Johann, little William and three mothers who stayed with their children in hopes of protecting their toddlers, staying safely at home. An unnatural hush hung over the school.

As the sun set, Kurt helped these women make pallets on the opposite side of the schoolroom floor from those who were already ill. He pumped and carried water in for tea and washing. All the while he tracked Miss Thurston, aware of the fear she masked.

He wanted nothing more than to offer her comfort, but he knew he must keep his distance, especially in such close quarters. His mind kept going back to the way she’d stepped in when one of the townspeople had all but accused him of bringing measles to Pepin. She was an extraordinary woman. There was no doubt.

Standing outside Miss Thurston’s door, Mrs. Ashford handed him a large kettle of pork and beans, and one of thin oatmeal for the sick children. Amanda handed in a pot of hot willow bark tea for the fevered.

For once, Mrs. Ashford didn’t have much to say and she and Amanda left quickly.

Just before dark, Kurt brought in more wood to keep the low fire burning in Miss Thurston’s fireplace and in the large Franklin stove that sat against the wall between the schoolroom and teacher’s quarters. Eventually, once everyone was settled for the night, he took a seat at Miss Thurston’s desk.

He woke in the dark with a start sometime later. What had wakened him? How long had he been asleep?

The school door stood open, letting in a wedge of moonlight. Cool air rushed in. One glance told Kurt that only Johann’s pallet was empty.

Kurt moved quickly to the open door. Looking outside, he glimpsed nothing but the trees surrounding the school. Fear grabbed the back of his neck. He shut the door and raced to Miss Thurston’s room to see if Johann had gone there. He leaned inside.

Miss Thurston looked up from the rocking chair. “What is it?” she asked softly, urgently.

“Johann. He isn’t inside.”

She leaped to her feet, laying her child in his cradle. She hurried to him and clutched his arms. “We must find him. The night air will do him harm.”

She whipped on her shawl, lit a lantern and let herself out her door. He hurried after her, closing the door silently behind him. In the midst of the schoolyard, she stood in a shaft of moonlight, turning her head slowly, scanning the woods. The wind ruffled the leaves, but he could hear no other sound.

Dear God, help us find him.
Johann could have wandered anywhere. If they didn’t find him...

Terror for his little nephew turned his empty stomach. He swallowed down dry heaves.

Miss Thurston picked up her lantern and began searching the circle of trees around the clearing. She halted and motioned for him to follow her.

“Do you see him?” he asked, keeping up with her.

“No, but this is the path the children sometimes take to the creek that leads to the river. I think he might go this way out of habit.”

He hadn’t thought of that danger. The Mississippi River was so near.

Miss Thurston began nearly running and he edged in front of her.
God, help. God, help.
With each step, his mind chanted this.

The trees thinned so near the river flats. Ahead, Johann’s white shirt glimmered in the creek. “Johann!” Kurt thundered.

Miss Thurston grabbed his elbow. “He’s delirious. Don’t agitate him. He’s not really awake.”

The boy mumbled something as Kurt waded into the creek, shivering from the cold water. Panic surged within him, a bellows being pumped hard and fast. He lifted Johann and carried him out of the creek, dripping cold water.

“Is he breathing?” Miss Thurston asked, hurrying to him.

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t think.

She leaned close, putting her cheek next to Johann’s mouth. “He’s breathing. Let’s get him inside. Quickly!”

The two of them raced back to the school. The schoolteacher reached the side door first and swung it open wide. He ducked inside.

“Lay him in front of my hearth and strip him,” she whispered. “I’ll find something for him to change into.” She went to her trunk and began rummaging.

Kneeling, Kurt stripped off Johann’s clothing, tossing the sopping wet pieces to the floor.

Then she was at his side again, pushing a dry towel into his hands. “Dry him.” She used another towel on Johann’s face and hair. “Rub his skin as you dry him. It will bring the blood to the surface.”

He did as she said, grateful to see the white skin turn ruddy under the friction. Finally, they had him dry and dressed and wrapped in a blanket.

“Was ist los?”
Marta had risen from the bed.

Kurt explained what had happened as he laid Johann on the floor in front of the hearth.

Marta exclaimed her distress, picking up the sodden clothing and hurrying outside, saying she would wring them out and hang them on the clothesline.

Kurt knelt beside his nephew. “Why did he do it?”

Miss Thurston pressed her wrist to Johann’s forehead. “Sometimes a high fever causes delirium. Or he might have instinctively sought the water to cool his fever. He likes the creek. He goes there during recess often.”

“But being chilled could kill him.” Just saying the words shook Kurt.

“His fever is down,” Miss Thurston said calmly. “We will just keep him warm and hope this hasn’t made matters worse.” She laid a warm brick at Johann’s feet to ward off the chill.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” He rested his forehead in his hand.
“Dummkopf.”

She gently took his hand away from his head, and he was forced to look at her. “You fell asleep because you were exhausted. You woke and we found him.
We are only human.”

“I can’t lose him.”
I can’t bear to lose anyone else.
His mind went to Gunther. How was he? Was he sick and alone?

“Don’t worry about Gunther,” Miss Thurston said as if reading his mind. “Ophelia and the Whitmores will check on him. Now strip off your wet shoes and socks before you come down with this, too.”

He wanted to argue but he knew Miss Thurston was right. He eased back and did what she’d asked. A shiver shook him and he didn’t know if it was from his sodden shoes and socks or from terror. He was too frozen even to pray.

* * *

Two days of nursing the children passed in a blur.

Night had fallen once more and most of the sick were dozing restlessly. Two of the children who had remained had come down with the illness, and one more child had come with her mother to enter the quarantined school.

In her quarters, Ellen sat in the rocker, nearly paralyzed with fear. William, so small and helpless, lay on her lap. Last night he’d begun sneezing and she’d discovered the telltale red spots in his tiny mouth.

I could lose him
,
this child who was entrusted to me for safekeeping, this child I love.

The fire burned low and William’s fever burned higher. By firelight, she saw how hard the tiny infant fought for each breath. She’d been afraid to give him the willow bark tea Mrs. Ashford had brought over which sat on the table nearby. Would it help or hurt such a small child?

Since she’d first noticed William’s symptoms, this fear had been trying to wrap itself around her lungs and choke her. She’d held it at bay, but now the terror conquered her.

Why did I think I could raise a child?

She began to weep, each sob wrenching her.

Then, before her eyes, William began to convulse. Her little brother had seized like this before he died. All those years ago, Dr. Litchfield had said that no one could have saved him. Remembering her brother only increased her suffering. Instantly ice went through her in horrifying waves. She rose and cried out wordlessly.

Please, God, help. Help my William.

* * *

Unable to fall back asleep, Kurt was sitting in Miss Thurston’s chair again, keeping watch over the sleeping children and mothers, when someone cried out. He peered into the gray moonlit room, listening. The sound had come from behind him.

Ellen.

Panic sliced his heart. William—was he worse?

Hoping not to disturb the others, Kurt rose and raced on tiptoe to her quarters. Ellen sat in her rocking chair holding William, horror on her face.

He moved swiftly to her. “What is it?” he whispered.

She looked up, tears spilling from her eyes. She tried to speak but could only weep. Kurt knelt beside her. In a shaft of moonlight from the window, he saw the child flushed with fever and breathing with difficulty. Then the child shook violently and gagged.

Instinctively, Kurt snatched up the infant into his arms and turned him on his side. The thought of the child choking shot like lightning through his mind. He unwound the blanket and ran to the door. He stepped outside into the cooler air.

The child convulsed once more, then lay quiet, lying over Kurt’s arm, panting.

Ellen hovered beside him. “Won’t the night air harm him?”

Kurt found he was panting, too, the emotional reaction causing him to feel as if he’d just sprinted across a finish line. Finally he managed to say, “Perhaps not. Just a few minutes. We let him cool down and see.”

When William appeared to cuddle closer as if seeking warmth, Kurt turned and gently urged Ellen inside. He silently shut the door behind them and halted by the fireplace. Ellen stood opposite him, gazing down at the child. Everything else receded from Kurt’s mind. There was only Ellen, the child and him.

“You are worried,” he whispered so inadequately.

She nodded, shaking with renewed but silent weeping.

He had no more words. He laid William in the cradle at her feet. Then, not letting himself pause to consider, he did what he felt compelled to do. He drew Ellen into his arms.

“You must not fear so,” he whispered into her ear. “He is sick but I think the bad part is done.”

They shared the same fear. This evening, Johann had been so feverish he had not recognized Kurt.

At first, she stood straight and stiff in his arms, and then she gave way, leaning into him. “I should have let them take William from me. He wouldn’t have become sick, then,” she murmured brokenly.

“You don’t know that,” he replied. “You cannot know that.”

“I can’t stop remembering losing my baby brother. He could barely breathe.” She sobbed against him, not making a sound as she shook in his arms. “He shook like that, too. And then...”

“This child will live,” he whispered, forcing certainty into his voice.

She shook her head no against his chest. “My baby brother died in my arms.”

At these heartbreaking words, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and let her hushed sobs beat against him. He absorbed her anguish as best he could. But Ellen’s desperate state ignited his own alarm. He’d survived what had happened in Germany.
He would not see Gunther and Johann taken from him now.

He realized those words were whistling in the dark, as death hovered at their elbows, always ready to snatch life from them. But he would not give in to this despair, nor would he let Ellen.

He focused on the sweet woman in his arms. Here, in this dark room while all slept, he could comfort her. Had he ever known a woman with a kinder, more caring heart? He buried his face in her soft hair, allowing himself to breathe in her natural scent and a trace of lavender.

Minutes passed. He let himself float, without thought or worry, just holding her close. Comforting her comforted him. Was that wrong? He knew in his heart it was not.

Finally, she drew a long, shuddering breath and straightened herself. “I’m sorry I gave in like that,” she whispered.

He tried to think of words but none came to mind. Then, as if someone else were in control of him, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “William will not die.”

She tried to smile but failed, her lips quivering with more sobs. She bent and lifted the baby out of the cradle and back into her arms.

Kurt waited there, not sure what to do. He knew he shouldn’t have held her like that, but it was done now.
And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t regret it.

“Do you think I should try some of the willow bark tea?” she asked.

“I do not think a spoonful will hurt,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

He poured out a spoonful of the tepid brew, and then tickled William’s chin, waking the child. He trickled the tea into the baby’s mouth. When he was done, he gave Ellen a smile and turned to go back to his uncomfortable chair.

“Kurt,” she murmured, “thank you.”

She said my given name.

Kurt didn’t turn, afraid for her to glimpse his reaction.
“Guten nacht,”
he murmured and walked softly back to the classroom, trying to ignore the thrill he was feeling at the sound of his name on her lips.

He moved to the pallet where Johann tossed and turned, mumbling in his fevered sleep. With the inside of his wrist, Kurt tested his nephew’s forehead. Would the fever never break? Kurt didn’t even have the energy to walk back to the desk and sit. Instead, he lay down beside Johann on the bare half-log floor and fell asleep almost instantly, the last thought in his head of Miss Ellen Thurston and how right she had felt in his arms.