The Promise of Morning (7 page)

“Yes indeed. Just let me tell Karl where I’m going.” She wiped her hands on her apron and hurried down the hall toward his office.

Matthew walked to the work table where Luellen stood shaping dough into loaf-size chunks. The rich aroma of flour leavened with warmed yeast filled his nostrils. His niece gave him a welcoming smile and returned to her task.

“Those look just right.” He patted her back. “Your mama’s doing a good job of teaching you.”

Luellen blushed. “Next week she said I could do the whole job by myself if I wanted to.”

“You be sure to bring a loaf to church then. I’ll look forward to sampling your work.”

Eight-year-old Lily ran across the kitchen. “Can I go with you, Uncle Matt?”

“Sure can. Maria wouldn’t let me in the house without you.” Smiling, he tweaked one of her dark braids. He looked up when Molly returned, carrying a shawl. “Ready?”

She nodded, then paused next to Luellen and pointed at the loaves arranged on a baking pan. “As soon as those are doubled, pop them in the oven. Be sure you get it plenty hot first.”

“I will. I know how.”

Molly leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back before suppertime.” She turned toward the door, then stopped. “I almost forgot. James brought in a washtub full of honey again this morning. I want to take some to Ellie and the children.” She pulled the tub out from under the table. “I swear that boy has learned to think like a bee. I just pray he doesn’t . . .”

“What?” Matthew asked.

Molly cast a meaningful glance at her daughters. “Nothing.”

With a long-handled spoon, she dug a thick wedge from the honeycomb and placed it in an empty stoneware container. When she pulled the spoon away, a golden thread of syrup remained at its tip, spinning downward in a slow spiral.

6

Ellie and Molly sat across from each other at the kitchen table, the aroma of baking bread swirling around them. The first browned loaves had come from the oven and cooled on a work surface against the back wall.

At the far end of the table, Maria and Lily pushed their chairs together to form a mutual lap on which baby Julia bounced and wiggled.

“Mama, can I give Julia a bite of bread and honey?” Maria asked, looking at the plate of fresh bread resting next to Molly’s container of honey. “She’d like it.”

“You would too, I expect.” Ellie smiled at her.

“And some for Lily?”

“Of course.”

Ellie walked over to the girls. She spread two soft slices with honey, cutting off a tiny corner and trimming the crust for Julia. “When you finish, you can take the baby upstairs—but be very careful with her.”

Holding the triangle of bread toward her sister’s mouth, Maria said, “We will, I promise.”

Ellie resumed her seat and bit into her own piece of honey-soaked bread. Its heavy sweetness filled her mouth and trickled down her throat. Sighing with satisfaction, she swallowed and took another quick bite. “What were you saying about James?” She pitched her voice low so the girls wouldn’t overhear.

“He wants to enlist in the militia and go fight against Mexico.” Molly’s expressive green eyes clouded with worry as she spoke.

Ellie dropped her unfinished slice onto her plate. “You can’t let him. He’s too young.”

“He’s sixteen. He thinks he’s old enough.” A tear formed in the corner of Molly’s eye and slipped down her cheek. “Karl thinks if we wait, he’ll forget about it, but I don’t believe he will. You know how stubborn James is when he’s fixed on an idea.”

Ellie nodded, remembering James’s accident several years earlier and his subsequent determination to overcome the loss of sight in his left eye. “But Mexico? I thought that was all settled. Matthew hasn’t said anything about a war.”

“James saw an article in last week’s
Illinois Monitor
. President Polk says it’s the United States’ destiny to enlarge her borders.” Molly shook her head. “Men and their wars!” She swiped at her tears with a corner of her apron. “According to the story, the Mexicans haven’t stopped fighting us down in Texas, despite its becoming a state last year. The President thinks we should send them packing once and for all.”

Texas. Ellie opened her mouth to tell Molly about the letter from Grandpa Long, then closed it. She’d wait for a better time.

Molly drew her mug toward her with quivering hands and stared into its depths. “After enduring all the months when Franklin was missing, I can’t face the thought of losing James. It’s too much to bear.” She cupped her hands over her mouth and rocked back and forth, shoulders hunched.

Ellie reached for Molly’s wrist. “Let’s pray—”

Loud giggles interrupted her. She swung her head toward the girls.

“Mama, look at Julia! She’s got her hands stuck together.” Maria pointed at her baby sister, then collapsed into a fit of laughter.

Julia struggled to pull her clasped hands apart. Her face was coated with a layer of honey. Tendrils of hair had plastered themselves to her cheeks. Ellie ran around the table but stopped short of lifting the sticky child from the girls’ laps.

She glared at Maria, hands on hips. “Whatever did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. We were feeding Julia spoonfuls, and she just reached into the dish and scooped up some of the comb.” On closer inspection, Ellie detected flakes of beeswax embedded in Julia’s curls.

Molly joined her, eyes still shiny with tears. “Quite a mess. Lily, you’re as much to blame as Maria. You’re both supposed to be watching her.”

Ellie leveled her index finger at Maria. “You and Lily get a basin and warm some water. Now. You’re going to spend the rest of your visit washing Julia and getting all that honey out of her hair.”

The following Saturday, Ellie worked at her baking with an anxious ear tuned toward the upstairs bedroom. Over the past few days Julia’s appetite had disappeared. This morning Ellie noticed that when Julia lay on her back her legs flopped apart like a frog’s. Nothing she tried had helped—not even her never-fail spring tonic laced with honey.

She shoved the last loaves of bread into the oven and hastened up to the bedroom. When she peeked into the crib, Julia’s heavy-lidded blue eyes stared up at her. Ellie fought to keep rising panic at bay. She felt the baby’s forehead. No fever
.

Ellie lifted her from the crib, supporting the child’s blonde head with her left hand as she would for a newborn. Julia drooped in her arms like a heavy rag doll. She sat in the rocking chair and untied her bodice for the baby to nurse. Julia hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and Ellie’s engorged breasts ached. Julia mouthed at the nipple, then rolled her head to one side.

Cold prickles coursed over Ellie’s body. She tugged her bodice closed. Cradling Julia, she ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Maria. Run get Papa.” She pointed toward the barn. “He’s out there. Tell him Julia’s worse. He needs to fetch Dr. Karl right away.”

Maria dashed out the back door, leaving it standing open. A cloud of smoke issued from around the firebox on the stove. Ellie kicked the door shut with one foot and paced the room while she waited for Matthew.

“Please, oh please, God, make her well,” she murmured as she walked between stove and table.

Julia whimpered, her usual alert expression muted. She looked half asleep.

Ellie stopped pacing when Matthew pounded into the room. His eyes locked on Julia. “How is she?”

Shaking her head, Ellie blinked back stinging tears. “She’s weaker than she was this morning. We need Karl to come out.”

Matthew put an arm around Ellie and the baby and pulled them close. “I’ll be back quick as I can.” His beard scraped her face when he kissed her temple.

“Hurry!” Ellie knew it would take almost an hour to ride the two miles to town, fetch the doctor, and return. “Please, God, let Karl be in his office
.
” Her stomach clenched as she fought fear-induced nausea.

She slumped in the kitchen rocker. “Mama’s here,” she whispered against Julia’s silky hair. “Uncle Karl’s coming to take care of you.” Her foot tapped against the floor as the chair rocked back and forth. “You’re going to be right as rain in no time.” After she ran out of words, she hummed a lullaby.

Maria busied herself around the room, taking baked bread from the oven and sweeping spilled flour off the floor. Between chores she paused beside Ellie’s chair and dropped kisses on Julia.

Ellie’s eyes rested on her older daughter. “You’re my good right hand. Thank you for helping.”

Maria’s blue eyes shone at the compliment. She ducked her head. “You’re welcome, Mama.” After a pause she said, “Julia’s not going to die, is she?”

“No! Don’t even think it.”

The words had no sooner left her mouth when they heard a hesitant tap at the door. Maria opened it to find Aunt Ruby on the threshold.

Ellie gasped. The sight of her aunt broke the dam that had been holding her tears at bay. “I’m so glad to see you,” she choked between sobs.

Aunt Ruby tossed her shawl over a peg near the door and bustled to the rocker. “Matthew stopped by and told us about Julia. Arthur’s tying the horse to the hitching rail. He’ll be right in.”

She bent over the chair and kissed Ellie’s cheek. Her arms reached out to take the baby, but in an unthinking reflex Ellie pulled Julia closer to her chest.

“No.”

A shadow of hurt darkened her aunt’s face. “I won’t harm her. Surely you know that.”

Ellie brushed at her tears and gazed down at the baby in her arms. Even the commotion of having someone new come into the room failed to attract Julia’s interest. Her head lolled against her mother’s shoulder.

Ellie spoke in a ragged whisper. “I can’t let her go.”

After an impulsive stop at the Newberrys’, Matthew urged his horse to a gallop. He hadn’t planned to detour to their house, but when he approached their lane he felt impelled to ask Ruby’s help. The question in Ellie’s eyes when he left spoke more clearly than words.

Now he slapped at his horse’s side, trying to get more speed out of an animal that was already running full out. Christ’s words on the cross filled his mind.
My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me?

“I’ve served you faithfully since I was eighteen years old.” Matthew bargained over the thumping of hooves. “Please. Don’t take this child from us.” Sky the color of sharpened iron closed over his head. If there was comfort from heaven, he didn’t feel it.

When he reached town he turned his horse right on Adams Street and reined to a stop in front of Spengler’s house. A quick glance at Karl’s horse standing in the stable told him the doctor was probably there, and not out on a call. Matthew sprinted around the corner of the house and burst into Karl’s office.

Startled, Karl turned away from a microscope poised over a rectangular slip of thin glass. “Matt. Take a look at—” He stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Julia. She’s taken a bad turn. Can you come?”

He pushed his chair away from the low table at which he had been working. “Of course.” He opened the door leading to the living quarters and hollered down the hall. “Molly. I’m off to Matthew’s. Baby’s sick.”

She hurried down the hallway, concern in her eyes. “Oh no. What is it?”

“We don’t know.” Matthew crushed his hat brim in his hands.

“Shall I come with you?”

“Best stay with the children,” Karl answered. “I’ll come get you if it’s needful.”

He seized his brown leather satchel and followed Matthew into the chill April afternoon.