Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (14 page)

Jan and Karl looked to Elli. She was nodding in agreement. “
Ja
.
Where is the joy we used to feel in our church? Look at Heidi!” Elli glanced
down guiltily. “I do not wish to gossip, Karl. I only wish to say that Heidi is . . .
is not allowed to, to express joy any longer.”

The four of them were silent the rest of the drive home.

~~**~~

Elli knelt by the side of her and Jan’s bed and thanked God
for the babe growing inside her.
O Lord, you have heard my prayers and I am
so grateful!

She rose and started to dress, thinking of her day and
planning her tasks. She and Jan had decided not to tell anyone of the baby
until Elli’s pregnancy was farther along, but Jan had told Minister Veicht and
the elders—and Karl, Norvald, and Ivan had been present.

Elli smiled.
Well, so the cat is out of the bag!
She
did not mind. She laid a gentle hand on her belly.
Soon you will let the
world know you are coming, eh? You are not yet five months old, but soon you
will grow bigger and my belly will proudly announce you are coming.

That night Elli woke to a vague discomfort. She turned, trying
to get comfortable. Instead, her back ached and would not allow her to return
to sleep. She got up and walked around the room, rubbing at the ache. A moment
later she gasped in pain. The cramping took her by surprise, but she recognized
it for what it was.

“
Nei
, O Lord! Please keep this baby safe inside me!”
she whispered. Despite her discomfort, she lay down, pulled her knees up, and
remained still, hoping the cramps would ease.

Instead, she felt a warmth trickle between her legs. She
shuddered and sobbed, wadding her nightgown and pressing it between her legs from
where the warm flow came.

Jan woke to Elli’s sobs. “What is it?”

Elli’s whole body now shook, causing her teeth to chatter as
she tried to answer. “The, the baby . . . the baby is coming! Too
soon, too soon!”

Jan pulled on his trousers and ran upstairs to pound on Karl
and Amalie’s door.

Hours later, Amalie uncovered the tiny remains and showed
them to Elli and Jan. Jan stared at the tiny boy baby . . . no
bigger than a tea cup but perfectly formed. He lifted the tiny fingers—so
perfect—and stroked them. Then he gripped Elli’s hand and they wept together.

“Where is my
mamma
?” Kristen demanded. “What has
happened? Everyone is sad!”

Jan looked at his two
barn
, his treasures. “Your
mamma
has lost the baby,” he said softly.

“What does that mean?” Kristen insisted, her voice rising.
“Where is the baby? Where has it gone?”

Jan took Kristen’s hand and held it between both of his. “It
means the baby was born too soon,
datter
. He was too little to live, so
his little spirit has gone to Jesus.”

Søren stared at the floor, but Jan could see him struggling
with tears. Jan pulled Kristen onto his lap and reached out an arm to Søren. As
he had wept with Elli, he now wept with his children.

Late that day Jan and Elli buried the baby on the gentle, east-facing
slope near their apple trees. “Tomorrow the sun will rise and warm this
ground,” Jan murmured. “It is such a pretty place! I will place a marker here
for this little
sønn
of ours and we will see him again in heaven.”

Through the late summer months Elli cried her broken heart
in Jan’s arms. During the day she did her duties and cared for Søren and
Kristen.

But at night, she wept.

For weeks this had gone on. Until last night. Last night as
she had cried in Jan’s arms, he had spoken words to her, words she did not like
to hear but . . .

Elli’s tears stained the quilt that was spread across their
bed.
Lord, you have given us two beautiful children, children any mother or
father would be proud to have.

She wiped her eyes and struggled on.
I thank you for
them, Lord. I have desired more children and I have asked you these eleven
years to give us more babies, but they have not come, ja? Now I must surrender my
desire to you, once and for all.

I know Jan and I are not too old, but Jan has said it
best. I am wasting my life and joy pining over what I do not have, when I have
so much! Now, for good, I must lay this desire of mine on your altar. If it
dies, I will be content in your love. If, someday, you surprise us with another
child, I will be just as content in your love.

She rested her forehead on the bed and waited, just waited.
Do
you have something to say to me, Lord?

Her heart picked up as she lingered, hoping to hear God
speaking to her. Instead, a Scripture passage came to her.

For
I was an hungred,
and ye gave me meat:
I was thirsty,
and ye gave me drink:
I was a stranger,
and ye took me in:
Naked,
and ye clothed me:
I was sick,
and ye visited me:
I was in prison,
and ye came unto me.

She covered her eyes with her hands, shutting out the light.
O Lord,
she breathed,
I am waiting for you to speak to me!
Another
verse intruded on her thoughts.

Verily
I say unto you,
Inasmuch as ye have done it
unto one of the least
of these my brethren,
ye have done it unto me.

Elli groaned.
Yes, Lord. I know this. But I am waiting
for you to speak to me!

When nothing but silence greeted her, she finally rubbed her
face and stood up. “Oh,
Fader
,” she prayed aloud. “I give my babies to
you. The babies I have longed to hold. The little
sønn
who is with you
already. I trust you, Lord. I am ready to move on now.”

The Scriptures she had remembered earlier again resounded in
her mind.

For
I was an hungred,
and ye gave me meat:
I was thirsty,
and ye gave me drink!

Elli stopped short. Was
this
God speaking to her?

She thought for a long while; she pondered the number of
families she knew who had struggled in the past year in some way. Could she do
more to help them?

All right, Lord,
she breathed.
I am listening . . .

~~**~~

A year had passed since she lost the baby. Elli marked the anniversary
in her heart, but she turned steadfastly from self-pity. She no longer allowed
it a place in her life. It had been hard to do so at first, but she had persevered.

How she had grown in her walk with the Lord since that day,
the day God had spoken so clearly to her!

Even with Amalie pregnant again, Elli no longer felt the
sting of her own empty womb. Over the past year she had made it her undertaking
to give herself to those in need, often nursing sick families or providing hot
meals for them.
I have found comfort in comforting others
, she acknowledged.

Their whole farming community, indeed their state and
bordering states, were struggling with drought. Two growing seasons without
enough rain had left them with meager crops. Many families were barely getting
by.

Tomorrow I must do something for the Beckers,
Elli planned
on the way home from the church meeting.
Talbert and Maria must be struggling
to care for their family right now!

The Beckers, another German family in the church, lived a
few miles north and east of them. According to a nearer neighbor, all the Beckers
except Talbert—
Herr
Becker—were sick.

“Maria had a baby only a few months back and now she is down
with fever. Talbert is caring for her, the baby, and their other children,” the
neighbor said, clearly concerned. “I did his chores yesterday and the day
before and my wife has brought them several meals.”

Talbert must be pulling his hair out by the roots.
Elli shook her head. When a wife was ill in bed, many a husband was at his
wit’s end to feed and care for the sick wife and children. He must still manage
his own chores, many which could not be neglected or put off.

The next morning, thinking to provide the sick family with a
few nourishing meals, Elli doubled her bread making. While the loaves were
rising, she cut onions and the butt of a leftover roast into small pieces and
set them to braise in hot, melted fat.

While the onions and chunks of roast were sizzling, she scrubbed
and cut up carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and turnips. She slowly added flour,
water, and the drippings from the leftover roast to the meat and onions,
stirring until the bubbling mess thickened.

Elli set a large pot on the stove and poured the meat,
onions, and gravy into it. Then she added the chopped vegetables, and a jar of
canned mixed vegetables—corn, lima beans, and chopped winter squash. She
seasoned the stew with pepper, fresh sage, and rosemary and set it to simmer on
a back burner.

In another pot she boiled a chicken for broth.
You’re a
tough old bird,
she laughed to herself.
But your meat will make a small
chicken pie for us and your broth will feel good on sore throats, eh?

She took inventory of her preparations:
Nourishing broth,
my good stew, several loaves of fresh bread, a dish of butter, some cheese, and
dried herbs for tea. That should keep them a day or so,
she deliberated.
Then, considering the number of Becker children, she began rolling out crust
for pies.

Elli tripped down the cellar steps and hauled up a basket of
apples.
Two pies for them, two for us
, she hummed.

Later, as she pulled the browned and bubbling pies from the
oven, Elli saw Søren striding past the house on his way to the barn. She leaned
out the back door and called to him. When he came near she asked, “Will you
harness the bays for me in an hour? I want to take a hot meal to the Becker
family.”

It will be an hour’s drive to take the food to them,
she figured as she began packing the items she would take.
I will stay only
an hour so that I am back in plenty of time for supper.

The faint track to the Beckers’ farm was dry and Elli had no
difficulty finding her way. The wagon sped along at a good clip until she
pulled into the yard fronting the family’s small house.

Elli looked around and, frowning, recognized that the Beckers
were in a worse way than she had thought. The rundown appearance of their house
and barn bore stark testimony that they were struggling just to survive during
these years of drought.

Elli knocked and, after several minutes, Talbert opened the
door to her.

“Ach, you poor dears,” she commiserated as she stepped
inside.

The few windows of the house were cloaked. The house was
unbearably stuffy and Elli could scarcely see in the dim light.

“Please don’t open the curtains, Elli,” Talbert begged in
German. He gestured to the windows and Elli understood. “Maria has a bad
headache and the light pains her so.”

Although she did not grasp the meaning of all his words Elli
nodded. “I brought some hot food,” she answered him.

Coughing into his hand, he nodded his thanks and then
disappeared into the back of the house. Elli had observed how poorly he looked himself.

It took Elli two trips from the wagon to the house to bring in
the meals she had brought with her. She made her way to the little kitchen on
her first trip and paused in shock.

Every dish in the house must be dirty,
she realized
in dismay. Before she could unpack the food and serve a meal, she would need to
clean the kitchen.

She opened the back door for light, built up the fire, put
the broth and clean water on to heat, and spent half an hour washing and tidying
up. As she worked she heard children coughing and fussing weakly from a nearby bedroom.

When she finished cleaning the kitchen, Elli poured warm
broth into mugs, set them and a lighted candle on a tray, and made her way
toward the crying. She found four of the Becker children in a single bedroom.

The stench of urine and feces struck her.

Dear Lord! The children are not making it out of the
room, let alone out of the house to use the necessary!
She struggled to
swallow the gorge that rose in her throat.

When she had mastered her reaction and set her mind to
ignore the filth for the time being, Elli spooned broth into the children’s mouths.
They cried piteously as the broth crossed their raw throats and she had to
cajole them to take more.

The children coughed and complained of sore throats; they
were also feverish and listless. Elli returned to the kitchen and filled the
mugs with tepid water. It took her a long while to get the water down their raw
and swollen little throats.

Elli realized she had already been at the Beckers’ far
longer than an hour.
I will be late getting home,
she conceded,
and
it cannot be helped. I haven’t even seen Maria yet. And, dear God, the
children’s room!

She would have to do something about the children before she
left, but, with increasing concern, she pushed that thought aside. She finally
made it to the other bedroom and found Maria lying in the bed, her youngest beside
her clutched in the crook of her arm.

Talbert sat in a straight-backed chair next to the bed, head
bowed. Elli realized Talbert was sleeping sitting up, holding Maria’s hand.

“Maria,” Elli called softly. “Maria!”

The woman slowly opened her eyes. “Elli?” Her eyes were
unfocused, glazed in fever.

“
Ja
, Elli,” she answered keeping her voice low. But Maria’s
eyes had closed in sleep again.

Elli reached to take the baby from Maria, thinking,
This one
will likely need a clean diaper!

She lifted the tiny bundle from Maria’s arm and took it into
the kitchen. Once in the light, she peeled back the baby’s blanket.

The chubby little face was gray and still.

“No,” Elli moaned, her knees buckling. “Oh, no, no, no!” She
held her hand to her mouth but could not stifle her sobs. “Oh, dear Lord! What
am I going to do?”

She covered the baby again and laid him on a chair in the
living room. She sat trembling near the still little bundle.
O Father God!
How am I going to tell Talbert and Maria!
Even as she quelled her grief,
the possibility began to dawn on Elli that the Beckers were suffering from
something much worse than a cold or flu.

At a faint groan from Maria, Elli jumped up. She twisted her
hands in her apron for a moment. She heard Maria’s voice again, this time weakly
calling, “
Wasser! Bitte
, Elli!”

Elli steeled herself and placed a mug of broth and one of
water on the tray. She carried it into the bedroom and found Talbert flung
across the other side of the bed, sleeping soundly. Elli took the chair he’d
been sitting in and sat down.

“Here,” she murmured, spooning water into Maria’s mouth.
“All of it, please.
Alles, ja?
After the water, she fed Maria the broth.
Talbert did not stir.

“
Meine kinder?
” Maria begged. Elli could tell the
woman’s mind was fogged with fever and pain, but still she was concerned for
her children.

“
Ja, gut
,” Elli answered, not looking at her. She
returned to the kitchen and put a large pot of water on the stove to brew the
herb tea. The fire was nearly out, so she built it up again, using the last
lump of coal in the box—and a small one at that.

I lied to Maria
, Elli groaned.
How will I ever be
able to tell her the truth?

She pushed down her mounting anxiety and made the rounds
again with honeyed tea for the children and Maria. Talbert had not moved.

Long after dark she heard an ox-drawn wagon pull into the Beckers’
yard. She knew it had to be Jan. When she had not returned by dusk he would have
become worried and come looking for her.

She stood in the doorway and spoke across the yard. “Please
come no closer, Jan! Do not come closer.”

He jumped from the wagon and faced her from several yards.
“What is it, Elli?” She could see the worry on his face.

“I don’t know . . . but it is bad. All of
them are sick, even Talbert.” A sob escaped from her throat. “Oh, Jan! Their
baby died.”

“Father in heaven!” Jan ran both of his hands through his
hair, a gesture of frustration so familiar to Elli.

“Jan,” she swallowed, “I can’t take care of all of them by
myself.”

“What should I do? Tell me, Elli. I will do it.”

“Fetch Fraulein Engel, I think,” Elli replied.

Fraulein Engel was the spinster sister of the farmer who
raised bees, both members of the German church. As the neighborhood had no resident
doctor, Adeline Engel was often called upon to nurse the sick—and she readily
came. The near-fifty-year-old woman had no children of her own to care for,
only her unmarried brother.

Jan looked away a moment. “
Ja
, I will go for her.” He
glanced back and fixed her with a fierce look. “Then you must come home!”

Elli knew her husband was terrified for her.

Jan took the team of bays; still it was midnight
before he arrived back with Fraulein Engel. She had packed a sparse bag for herself
and stuffed another with remedies and notions based on what Jan had been able
to tell her.

Elli was relieved to see her and, even more so, that Fraulein
Engel immediately took charge. The spinster allowed Jan to help her down and
carry her bags partway to the house. As they approached the door she stopped. “
Danke
,
Herr
Thoresen,” she said kindly.

She pointed Jan back to the wagon with a firmness that
broached no question. Casting a look over his shoulder at Elli, Jan retreated
to his wagon.

Fraulein Engel stepped inside the dimly lit house. Elli showed
her the baby first. The woman clucked her tongue sadly and then, as she
unwrapped the still infant, became quiet. She raised the candle and pointed to
the thick rash on the baby’s chest. Elli wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Fraulein Engel lit a lamp and carried it into the first
bedroom to examine the other children. At the light the children fussed and one
of them cried piteously for them to turn it off. Fraulein Engel handed Elli the
lamp and gestured for her to keep the light over the children.

The woman wrinkled her nose at the smells in the room and
then checked each child, feeling their foreheads, looking at their chests,
examining their arms and legs.

While Elli held the lamp, Fraulein Engel pointed to a number
of scratched and reddened bites. She lifted one of the children to sitting and
scrutinized the bedding. She found and squished between her fingers several
tiny black fleas.

The children showed unmistakable signs of flea bites, and their
bedding and clothing were more than likely infested with them.

I should have seen!
Elli chided herself,
But I was
more concerned with the children’s coughs and fevers.

When Fraulein Engel finished with the children she examined
Maria and Talbert. Maria moaned and asked for water. Talbert remained asleep. Fraulein
Engel was quiet when she and Elli returned to the kitchen.

“
Was ist?
” What is it? Elli demanded.

Fraulein Engel shook her head, clearly puzzled and unsure.
Finally she muttered, “
Typhus?
”

Elli froze. Typhus! Here in Nebraska?

~~**~~