Beyond All Measure (29 page)

Ain’t you afraid?
She hadn’t wanted to give Jasper Pruitt the satisfaction of a reply. But the truth was, she didn’t feel completely safe on the road after dark, even with Lillian beside her. She picked up her things and Lillian’s, and the women went outside. With quick good-byes all around, they climbed into their rigs and started home.

Lillian, who usually had plenty to say after an afternoon with their friends, seemed subdued. Ada tucked a blanket around the older woman. “Are you warm enough?” she asked, climbing in beside her. Lillian nodded and drew the blanket more tightly around her shoulders.

“Did you enjoy the circle today?” Ada flicked the reins and they pulled out of the churchyard. “It was good seeing everyone, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

They traveled in silence for some minutes. Ada glanced at her companion. The older woman had gone mute as stone. Ada reached across to tuck a corner of the blanket into place. After spending most of the afternoon in the underheated church, maybe Lillian was simply too cold and uncomfortable for conversation.

“We’ll be home soon,” Ada promised. “And I’ll make hot cocoa. Would you like that?”

Lillian nodded and Ada got the distinct impression that the older woman was displeased with her, though she couldn’t imagine why. At last, when the house came into view, Ada could stand it no longer. “Lillian, have I done something to offend you?”

“What?”

“Are you cross with me?”

After another long pause, Lillian said, “Only if you intend to disappoint Wyatt.”

“Disappoint him?”

“Don’t be coy, Ada. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but I can see the way that boy looks at you. I can hear the two of you in my front parlor every night, cooing like a pair of doves.” Lillian shook her head. “Lawsa, he’s smitten. And as fond as I am of you, I’m not sure Wyatt knows his own mind, falling for a Yankee girl.”

Ada smiled. “I’ve fallen for him too.”

“But?”

Ada watched Smoky’s head bobbing up and down as he clopped into the yard. “We haven’t really known each other that long. We need to be certain of our feelings.”

Lillian waved one gloved hand. “Oh, piffle! I knew I was going to marry Pete Caldwell the first day I laid eyes on him. He knew it too.”

Ada brought the rig to a halt beside the barn. She could feel Lillian’s intense gaze boring into her. Clearly, Lillian now had more to say.

“Forgive my mawkishness, Ada. I’m an old woman. But here’s what I know. When God opens a door, you have to take his hand and walk through it. Even when you have doubts.”

“Yes, but—”

“Life is so much shorter than we think. I don’t understand this dithering and excuse-making.” Lillian grasped Ada’s arm. “Either you love my nephew or you don’t. Which is it?”

“With all due respect, it isn’t that simple. I—”

Without waiting for Ada’s help, Lillian threw off the blanket and stepped from the rig. “Fine. Have it your . . . oh!” A startled look crossed her face. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Then she bent double and toppled onto the muddy ground.

“Lillian!” Ada ran to kneel beside her. “Lillian, what happened? Did you lose your footing? Are you all right?”

Lillian’s mouth moved, but she couldn’t speak. Her skin had turned pale and clammy. Her eyes were open, but she seemed frozen, unable to see or hear.

“Oh! Oh, Lord! Please help her!”

Ada’s heart pounded as she considered her options. She could put Lillian in the rig and head for town, but the long trip over the rutted road might make her worse. She could leave Lillian home alone and try to find Wyatt, but it would take at least an hour to reach the mill and return. She didn’t dare leave Lillian that long. And what if Wyatt was off scouting timber, or in town making a delivery?

That left Two Creeks. She’d find Libby Dawson and send her to fetch Wyatt. Her decision made, Ada crouched behind Lillian and grasped the old woman’s arms. She half dragged, half carried Lillian across the yard and into the house, keeping up a constant stream of talk to calm her rattled nerves.

“Lillian, something terrible has happened to you, but don’t worry.” Ada settled Lillian on her bed and removed the older woman’s cloak and shoes. “I’m going to send for Wyatt, and he’ll bring the doctor. You’ll be fine. But you mustn’t try to get out of bed while I’m gone. Do you understand?”

A trickle of spittle leaked from the corner of Lillian’s mouth. “Unnnh.”

Moving quickly, Ada covered Lillian with blankets from the cedar chest in the corner and rekindled the fire in the fireplace. “There. You’ll be warm, and Wyatt will come, and Dr. Spencer too, and they will know what to do.”

With one last look at Lillian, Ada ran for the rig and urged Smoky toward the Two Creeks turnoff. The rig rocked along the narrow path that snaked through the dense forest. She guided the horse around a bend, and the road opened up to reveal a row of tin-roofed shanties clustered beside a creek.

Few of the houses had actual windows; the openings were boarded up against the cold, covered with scraps of tin and ragged blankets nailed to the frames. Smoke twisted from chimneys, sending the smells of wood smoke and boiling cabbage into the air. Children ran barefoot along the hard-packed dirt yards, chasing a few scraggly chickens, seemingly oblivious to the cold and the coming darkness. Behind the houses lay the fields, fallow now in the dead of winter.

Despite her worry and panic, Ada felt her eyes welling with tears at the desolate sight. How could Mr. Pruitt, or anyone, justify taking away what little these people had?

A young boy of perhaps twelve or thirteen stepped into the road. Ada halted the rig. “You
lost
, Miss,” he said. “You done took a wrong turn offa the road back there.” He looked genuinely frightened. “You got to get outta here.”

“I need help! I’ve come for Libby Dawson. Could you tell me which house is hers?”

He jerked a thumb. “Las’ one on the lef’. But she ain’t here. Saw her leavin’ out with her daddy ’fore sunup this mornin’. They ain’t come back yet.”

Ada felt tears building in her throat. What if it was too late, and Lillian was already dead? “But I need her!”

“Can’t help that. If she ain’t here, she ain’t here.”

Ada sized him up. “Then you will have to do.”

“Ma’am?”

“What’s your name?”

“Ulysses, ma’am.”

“Ulysses, do you know Mr. Caldwell? At the lumber mill?”

“Ever’body been knowin’ who he is.”

“My name is Ada Wentworth. I need to you to go to the mill and find him. Tell him his aunt is very sick and that he needs to bring Dr. Spencer to the house right away. Can you remember that?”

“Yes’m, I reckon. But how am I ’sposed to get there?”

“You haven’t a horse or a mule? A wagon?”

“No ma’am. Not since las’ fall.”

“Then you’ll come with me. I’ll take you as far as the crossroad, but you’ll have to walk from there. And you must hurry.”

He crossed his skinny arms. “I don’t want no trouble.”

“Listen to me. I don’t blame you for being afraid, I’m afraid too. But there will be more trouble if Mr. Caldwell’s aunt dies because you wouldn’t help me. Now stop arguing and get in!”

Ulysses complied. Ada turned the rig and drove as fast as she dared over the rough path to the main road, where a horse and rig passed them going the opposite way. Two men she didn’t know turned to stare. She felt a wave of uneasiness but pushed it away. Getting help for Lillian was more important than anybody’s rules about what was or wasn’t proper.

“All right, Ulysses,” Ada said when they reached the crossroad. “What message are you to deliver to Mr. Caldwell? Tell me word for word.”

“Mr. Caldwell, your auntie sick,” the boy recited. “Miss Ada say bring the doctor to the house right quick.”

“Yes, that’s right. If you can’t find Mr. Caldwell, I want you to find his foreman, Mr. Whiting, and tell him. Anyone at the mill can tell you who he is.” Ada handed him a coin. “Now run, Ulysses. Run as fast as you can!”

The boy sprinted down the road. Ada left Smoky in the yard and ran inside.

Lillian lay still, her breathing shallow but even. The fire still crackled in the grate. The clock in the parlor ticked into the silence. Too numb to think, Ada moved mechanically, lighting the lamps, building a fire in the cookstove, setting the kettle on to boil. When the tea was ready, she poured a cup and took it into Lillian’s room to keep watch. Not knowing what else to do, and unnerved by the silence, she opened Lillian’s Bible and read aloud. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? . . .”

The familiar psalm and the sound of her own voice calmed her and kept at bay the nagging worry that her sharp words to Lillian were somehow to blame for the older woman’s condition. Tears sprang to her eyes. She should have been kinder. She should have been more patient. After all, she and Lillian wanted the same thing: Wyatt’s happiness.

Darkness had fallen. Through the window, she saw Smoky standing patiently in the yard. He needed to be freed of his harness, watered, and fed, but she lacked the energy, and she was afraid to leave Lillian again. Wyatt would never forgive her if Lillian died alone.

At last, she heard hoofbeats along the road and then Wyatt’s familiar tread on the porch. He rushed inside.

“Ada.” He gathered her into his arms. She sagged against him.

“Where’s the doctor?” she asked when he released her.

“Right behind me. He’ll be here shortly. What happened?”

Ada told him. “One minute she was fine, and the next . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes welled.

Wyatt bent over the bed. “Aunt Lil,” he murmured. “It’s me. Can you hear me, darlin’?”

Lillian’s eyes fluttered, but no words came. He drew up a chair and sat beside her, holding her hand. Ada heard the doctor’s rig outside, and she hurried to let him in.

Dr. Spencer bent over the bed, his thin face serious in the flickering firelight. “Has she spoken at all since this happened?”

“No.” Ada clenched her hands. “Nothing.”

He nodded. “I saw a number of cases like this during my training in Philadelphia. Most likely it’s a venous congestion of the brain. That would account for the sudden onset of her symptoms and her loss of speech.”

“What can you do?” Wyatt asked. “Does she need an operation? Medicines? Whatever she needs, I’ll take—”

“Wyatt.” The doctor returned his stethoscope to his medical bag and snapped it shut. “I’m not going to lie to you. In cases like this, where there has been little movement and no speech for several hours, the prognosis is not good—especially in one so old and frail. I think—”

“What about a specialist?”

The doctor shook his head. “If it will make you feel better, I can summon one of my colleagues from Knoxville for another opinion. But frankly, by the time he gets here—”

“It’ll be too late.”

“It’s hard to say. I’ve seen cases such as this where the patient lingers for many days. Others go in a matter of hours.” He clasped Wyatt’s shoulder. “If there’s any other family who would want to see her before she goes, now would be the time to send word.”

“There’s no one. I’m all she has left.”

Dr. Spencer picked up his bag. “People tend to forget their own needs at times like this.” His voice was gentle. “It won’t do Lillian any good for the two of you to go hungry. I’ll send word to the Whitings. They’ll want to help.”

Wyatt drew his chair closer to the bed and grasped his aunt’s frail hand. Ada followed the doctor to the door. “Please. Isn’t there anything we can do for her?”

He patted her shoulder. “Pray, my dear. Just pray.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Ada woke with a start, her heart jerking in her chest. The fiery nightmare had returned, haunting her sleep. The images of roiling smoke and blistering flames were as vivid and familiar as ever, but mixed into the horrifying dream was an image of Edward as she’d last seen him, resplendent in his uniform, laughing at some joke her father had told at dinner the night her world had shattered. And somehow she was in the dream too, alone in the cold. She sat up, waiting for her pulse to slow, and massaged the knot at the small of her back. Lillian’s parlor settee was no place to sleep, but she’d been too worried and too exhausted last night to climb the stairs to her room.

She rose and opened the curtains. Outside, frost glittered on the brown grass. A thin winter sun rose over the mountain. She shivered. The fire had burned low in the grate. She knelt beside the hearth, added some kindling, and, with the bellows, coaxed a flame to life.

Wyatt, disheveled and bleary-eyed from a long night of keeping watch at Lillian’s bedside, shuffled down the hall. Her heart twisted at the sight of him.
Dear Lord, please give me the right words to say to him. And please take care of Lillian
.

Ada stood. “Is she—”

He shook his head. “I think her breathing is slowing down. I wish the doctor would get here.”

A sound drew her attention to the window. Ignoring the headache building behind her gritty eyes, she pushed her tangled hair off her face and opened the door.

“Ada.” Mariah’s brown eyes welled. She set her food basket on the table in the hallway and enveloped Ada in a strong embrace. “Ennis Spencer told us what happened yesterday. You must have been frightened out of your wits.”

Ada felt her tears coming back. “It was so sudden. One minute we were talking, and the next . . .” She wiped her eyes and smoothed her hair. “Oh, I must look a fright.”

“Well, you’ve had an awful time of it.” Mariah turned and took both of Wyatt’s hands. “This is terrible.”

Wyatt nodded and swallowed hard. Ada’s heart went out to him. Lillian had been like a mother to him; her passing would leave a huge hole in his life. She wished she could take his grief upon herself.

“I brought breakfast.” Mariah picked up her basket. “I’ll get everything ready.”

“I’m not hungry,” Ada and Wyatt said as one.

“You have to eat,” Mariah said firmly. She headed for the kitchen just as the doctor returned.

He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack in the entry hall. “Any change?”

“She’s the same.” Wyatt ran his hand over his stubbled face. “I tried talking to her this morning, but—”