The Long Way Home (17 page)
Reuben done taked my place. I need his old worthless hide down here to carry water to the washtubs. After supper I wash de sheets. Take dat kitten with you.’’
Louisa knew better than to argue. Abby felt strongly on issues of what the missies of the house were allowed to do. Washing was not one of them. She swooped up the kitten, setting him to purring when she stroked his head, and headed upstairs.
‘‘She not move yet.’’ Reuben rose from the chair, speaking softly, as if in a house of worship.
‘‘We need to talk normally. Perhaps she can hear and needs to know we are here.’’ Louisa sat in the chair and took her aunt’s frail hand in her own. The little kitten snuggled down next to the sleeping woman, his purr loud in the stillness. How could her aunt look so fragile so quickly, or had this been going on for a time and none of them noticed? If only there were ways to find some answers.
‘‘So what actually happened to Aunt Sylvania?’’
‘‘The doctor says she has apoplexy. We will know how severe in the next few days. He seemed to think it’s fairly mild.’’
‘‘And we are to leave in the morning.’’ Zachary thumped on the desk with his only hand.
‘‘I cannot do that, Zachary. I will not leave her.’’
Zachary stared at her, the intensity of his gaze burning into her mind. ‘‘You would put an old woman ahead of helping our wounded men?’’
‘‘Zachary Highwood, how can you say such a thing? Aunt Sylvania isn’t some old woman we are talking about. This is our aunt, who has opened her house and heart for us all this year. She has taken us in and shared everything she has.’’ Anger swelled at the sight of his appearance of disinterest. Had he lost all concern for his own family, all semblance of Christian love even?
Louisa squared her shoulders. ‘‘Yes, brother dear.’’ She honeyed her words. ‘‘I would put an aunt I dearly love ahead of wounded soldiers.’’
And as titular head of our family, you should too
. She kept the thought from registering on her face, along with the urge to slap the supercilious look off his face. Surely he must be putting on an act to convince her to leave. ‘‘I will make this compromise. If Aunt Sylvania is much better by the morning, we can leave on Tuesday.’’ Surely one more day wouldn’t make a difference.
‘‘But I have tickets for tomorrow’s train.’’
‘‘We’re taking the train?’’
‘‘Yes, west.’’
‘‘You’ll have to find someone else or put off this trip. I’m not leaving our aunt like this.’’ There, she’d had her say.
She waited for him to say more, but when he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, she realized the discussion was over. ‘‘Is there anything else I can get you?’’
A headshake, so brief she’d have missed it had she not been glaring at him, sent her to the doorway. She paused. ‘‘I take it I am dismissed?’’
A slight lifting of a corner of his mouth let her know he knew what she was doing.
Louisa and Abby took turns sitting with Aunt Sylvania through the night. Toward dawn, on Louisa’s shift, Sylvania opened her eyes and looked around. Bewilderment etched the good side of her face. Louisa moved from the chair to the edge of the bed.
‘‘Can I get you something?’’ She took her aunt’s hand in hers, feeling a slight quiver.
‘‘Thirsty, so thirsty.’’ The words came slowly, as if Sylvania were unsure of her tongue.
‘‘Oh, dear Aunt, you can speak, thank our good Lord.’’
Sylvania quirked her left eyebrow, a familiar sign that she questioned her niece’s good sense.
‘‘What is so, so . . .’’ A look of total confusion caused lines to deepen on the left side of her face, but little happened on the right. ‘‘I . . . I can’t find the word.’’ She tried to raise her right hand to her face, and it lay flaccid on the coverlet. She stared at the hand, and then her gaze darted to Louisa like that of a child pleading for mercy.
‘‘What . . . what has happened?’’
‘‘You’ve a mild case of apoplexy.’’ Louisa smoothed the wisps of gray hair off her aunt’s forehead. ‘‘It has affected your right side, your face a bit, and now we know your right hand. Can you move your foot?’’
Sylvania looked toward her feet and smiled, making Louisa more aware of the distorted face. ‘‘It moves—that’s good, right?’’ She stared at her hand, which finally lifted off the bed but fell back limp, like wet laundry.
‘‘Good, very good.’’ Louisa stood and walked to the pitcher of water sitting on the commode. She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Taking a cup of cool water back, she held it for her aunt to drink.
‘‘My mouth . . . not workin’ right.’’ The tone became petulant, like a small child in need of a nap.
‘‘I know, but I think it will get better again. Doctor said he would be back today when he could.’’
‘‘He came?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
Sylvania nodded. ‘‘He would.’’ Her eyelids drifted closed. ‘‘Sleepy, so sleepy.’’
‘‘You rest now, and when you wake we’ll bring some breakfast.’’ Louisa realized her patient was already asleep.
When Louisa entered the kitchen, Abby already had the iron stove plenty hot for biscuits, grits steaming in a kettle, and syrup warming on the back of the stove. For a brief second, Louisa craved ham. How long since they’d had ham and redeye gravy for breakfast. A thick slice of ham that needed cutting with a knife. Thoughts of such a ham brought memories of home, memories salt and sweet, just like the meat. The smokehouse at Twin Oaks, the walls standing impregnated with salt and smoke and the dripping grease of untold delicacies, meat taken for granted, a smokehouse part and parcel of the ongoing life.
She sighed as she stepped out onto the veranda. Would life ever be the same again?
Silly question
, she chided herself.
Of course it won’t. It can’t
. Another sigh. She leaned against the brick wall and gazed over what was once Aunt Sylvania’s glorious rose garden. Now vegetables were planted between the few remaining roses. Where once only blossoms reigned, now green beans climbed poles and lettuces made borders, along with feathery carrot tops. Dewdrops glistened on petals and leaves, while bitty bushtits gleaned the roses of aphids. A mockingbird sang through its repertoire. A wren twitted from the magnolia.
‘‘You’re out early.’’ Zachary spoke from behind her, startling her, since she hadn’t heard his crutch step.
She waited a moment for him to ask about their aunt. And when he didn’t, she felt like shaking him.
‘‘Aunt awoke.’’
A cardinal sang for his mate, rich notes threading the rising humidity. Louisa rubbed her forehead with her fingertips.
‘‘We’ll talk when I return.’’
Zachary turned and crutch-stepped his way back through the kitchen. His position at the law office kept him away until dusk, and many times, he had meetings in the evening. He never asked a single question about Aunt Sylvania’s condition.
Mama would have given him a lecture
, Louisa thought.
Not only a lecture on his lack of manners, but one on his Christian duty. If he weren’t my brother, I don’t think I’d even like him anymore
.
The thought made her gasp. Here she was criticizing him for lack of Christian duty, and look at her. She picked up her basket and shears from the shelf by the door and headed out to the rosebushes to cut flowers for the breakfast table and find a special bud for Aunt Sylvania. She did love her roses, and waking to the scent of roses in her room might make her feel a bit better.
When the doctor arrived after dinner, he greeted Sylvania with a broad smile.
‘‘You are looking much better, my dear, far better than I feared.’’ He took her hands. ‘‘Now, then, squeeze with your left. Good. Now the right. Umm.’’ He nodded. ‘‘Now let’s get you out of that bed and see how well your feet and legs work.’’
‘‘But I am in my nightdress.’’
His smile and her consternation made Louisa smile. Here they were concerned about the lingering affects of apoplexy and her aunt was worried about a man, a doctor, for pity’s sake, seeing her in her nightdress.
Together, an arm on either side of her, they helped Sylvania up on her feet.
‘‘Oh, I’m dizzy.’’
They let her sit back on the edge of the bed.
‘‘Better now?’’ The doctor rubbed Sylvania’s hands. He glanced to Louisa. ‘‘You can help her by rubbing her hand and foot, even the side of her face, gently at first and then with more strength as she improves.’’
Abby nodded from her position at the foot of the bed. ‘‘We does that.’’
‘‘Still dizzy?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘Let’s get you vertical then.’’ Slowly they eased her to her feet. Louisa watched her aunt’s face for any signs of faintness. They stood still, waiting for any sign from Sylvania. When she nodded, Louisa tightened her grip on her aunt’s waist.
‘‘Left foot first.’’ The three took one step at the same time. A small step, but movement nonetheless.
‘‘Right foot.’’ The doctor’s glance warned Louisa to be on guard. Another small step.
‘‘I did it.’’ Sylvania gripped Louisa’s hand with a strength born of fear.
‘‘And another.’’ They tottered as far as the brocade chair and settled her into it.
‘‘I feel like I walked clear downtown.’’ Sylvania slumped against the chair back, her left hand on the padded arm, her right lying in her lap. She looked up at the doctor standing by her side. ‘‘Now, what happened to me?’’
She started to turn to the mirror, but Louisa nonchalantly stepped in front of it. The visible damage could be seen later, when Sylvania grew stronger.
Right now Louisa could believe that would happen. Memories of a neighbor at home who’d never been able to speak nor feed herself after such as this skulked back into the lair from which they came.
While Abby and Louisa changed the bed and fluffed up the pillows, Sylvania and the doctor visited, him telling her a story that brought out a chuckle.
‘‘All right, now I reckon it’s about time you walk back to bed. I expect you to get up every day. The more you walk, the stronger you will become.’’
After they settled Sylvania in her bed again, with a sigh of relief on her part, Louisa followed the doctor down to the front door.
‘‘Sure you wouldn’t like to stay for some lemonade?’’
‘‘No, I must get on. Fill an old sock with dried beans or rice and make her—’’
At the raising of Louisa’s eyebrow, he chuckled.
‘‘I know, making Miss Sylvania do anything is a miracle in its own right, but she needs to squeeze that sock over and over if she wants to regain the use of that hand.’’
‘‘We’ll keep reminding her. Thank you for coming by.’’ She watched as he strode down the walk and climbed into his buggy. With his shoulders rounding and the slight limp, he looked to have aged ten years in the last twelve months. He was good at telling others to take care of themselves, but what about him?
Louisa looked up toward Aunt Sylvania’s window. Not being able to sew or knit with only one hand would make her downright cantankerous. Or drive her to work her hand harder.
Could she leave right now? Could Abby and Reuben take care of not only their soldiers but also Miss Sylvania? Who could she find to come in and help?
Ah, if only Lucinda were here
.
There was knowing, and then there was
knowing
.
Jesselynn stretched her hands above her head and watched the dust motes dance on the sunbeams lilting in the window. Sheer white curtains billowed in the breeze, a breeze that felt cool as springwater on her arms. She glanced to the side to see the dished place where her husband’s head had lain on the pillow. She stretched again, enjoying the lassitude.
Wolf had kissed her good-bye sometime after dawn, with the birds still twittering their morning wake-up call. He’d said she should sleep as long as she wanted. No one would come by to disturb her, or they would answer to him. The remembered growl in his voice made her smile again.
Smiles came easy this morning, her very first morning as Mrs. Gray Wolf Torstead.
She could hear soldiers marching out on the parade grounds where the wedding guests had danced the day before. Most likely she had danced with some of the men out there. Her feet reminded her that she’d danced with most everyone west of the Missouri. Or at least it seemed that way.
Ah, the only thing that would have made the day shine more brightly was if Louisa and Carrie Mae could have been here. And Lucinda
. That thought brought an immediate dimming to the smile that echoed clear through her. They would most likely feel the same as Aunt Agatha. At least Zachary would. That was for certain sure.
She threw back the covers and reached for the dressing gown that Rebeccah had so thoughtfully provided, along with the nightdress, the pins for her hair, and the rose water she’d splashed on before retiring.
She closed her eyes. Yes, Wolf had liked the rose water.
Dressing gown belted in place, she ambled out to the kitchen of the quarters, where a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, butter, and milk sat under cheesecloth on the counter. The coffeepot was still warm, pushed to the back of the stove. She sliced off two pieces of bread and enough cheese to cover them and poured herself a cup of milk. Who needed coffee anyway on a morning like this?
Once she’d finished eating and washed up her knife and cup, she peeked out the window, standing off to the side so no one would see her. No Appaloosa in sight. He’d said she should sleep until he came to wake her. By the angle of the sun, the morning was half gone, and she had a pile of things to do if they were to leave for the Chugwater in the morning.
Within minutes she was dressed in a shirt, britches, and boots. Clapping her sorry hat on her head, she headed out the door, smack dab into a broad chest that rumbled with laughter.
‘‘Whoa.’’ Wolf steadied her by grasping her upper arms. ‘‘You look to be in a real hurry, ma’am. Is there somethin’ I can help you with?’’
Her hat fell behind without her notice as he captured her lips with his.
‘‘Wolf, people will see us.’’ She murmured the words against lips that drew back only a little.
