The Apprenticeship of Lucas Whitaker (6 page)

When Lucas reported for chores the following morning, Mrs. Bunce was not waiting impatiently in the kitchen to outline the duties she expected him to perform, as she usually was. He went to the barn to feed and water the horses and chickens. When he returned, she was standing at the cookstove.

“I've been with Uriah,” she reported. “He's feeling a bit puny today.”

She caught Lucas's worried look. “He says it's nothing to be concerned about. He's just worn out, I do believe. I've told him time and again, he's too old to be gallivanting around the countryside the way he does. You have an office, I tell him. Have your patients come to you, I say, the way they do in the city. But it's like talking to the fence post,” she finished querulously.

“I don't guess Clem Buell could have made it here, Mrs. Bunce,” Lucas murmured. “His leg was awful bad.”

Mrs. Bunce looked at Lucas. “You may be right about that, young man. But I can't help worrying about Uriah. He lets people take advantage. If something were to happen to him, well, I—” Her face crumpled for a moment. She quickly adjusted her features to their customary stern appearance, but not before Lucas had glimpsed the fear in her eyes.

Why, Lucas realized with surprise, beneath her peevishness, she was really very fond of her brother. Somehow that made him feel more kindly toward her.

“He'd like you to pay a visit to the Stukeley family today,” Mrs. Bunce went on. “After you've finished up your chores,” she added.

“Are you sure?” asked Lucas uncertainly. “Mr. Stukeley said he wouldn't be needing Doc anymore.”

“Yes, Uriah said that Mr. Stukeley had made that clear. However, he said he can't help wondering how the girl—what's her name?”

“Sarah,” Lucas answered.

“How Sarah is faring. You know how he is. I tell him he's more concerned for his patients than they are for themselves.” Shaking her head, Mrs. Bunce sighed. “In any event, he seems to think you could pay a visit without appearing to intrude. There's a girl about your age you could call on?”

“Lydia,” Lucas supplied eagerly, feeling his neck flush. He found that he did want to see Lydia Stukeley again, and he very much liked the idea of another trip through the countryside. The fact that Doc trusted him to make such a trip alone pleased him greatly. And while the sorrow that hung over the Stukeley household was a painful reminder of his own losses he, too, wanted to know if Sarah was any better.

“All right,” said Lucas.

“You're to take Jasper,” said Mrs. Bunce.

Lucas nodded happily. Jasper would be good company.

 

It seemed to Lucas that Mrs. Bunce was determined to get as much work out of him as she could, with Doc out of the way. By the time he finished up his chores, it was the middle of the afternoon.

The sky was flat and gray, threatening more snow, when Lucas finally headed out of town. Sitting astride Jasper, breathing deeply of the sharp winter air as it mingled with the steamy warmth rising from the horse's broad back, he wished more than ever that he had asked Doc about the cure and why he hadn't used it for Sarah.

He recalled overhearing Mr. Stukeley's grim voice saying, “I heard about a cure. And, by God, I aim to try it.” If Sarah was no better, he decided he'd tell the Stukeleys what Oliver Rood had told him. He had a feeling it would be no surprise to Lewis Stukeley.

Following roughly the same route he'd ridden over with Doc two days before, he arrived within sight of the Stukeley farm just before dusk. He tied Jasper and was about to knock on the door when he saw dark figures silhouetted on the hillside.

Squinting his eyes, he made out Mr. and Mrs. Stukeley, and the smaller figures of Lydia and her little brother, Samuel. Mr. Stukeley held a shovel in his hand. Lucas almost hollered a greeting, but something about the stillness of the huddled group stopped him. As he drew nearer, he saw that their heads were bowed in prayer. His heart gave a sickening lurch. Sarah! They were burying Sarah. Filled with dread, Lucas waited a distance apart.

When the family raised their heads, Lydia caught sight of him. “Here's Lucas,” she said. A smile crossed her face. Then she quickly grew somber again.

Mr. Stukeley nodded. Mrs. Stukeley looked at her husband uneasily before she said quietly, “Good day, Lucas.”

The family stood frozen, staring at him. There was no hole in the ground, no wooden box. Lucas had the strong sense that he had interrupted them, but not, thank goodness, in burying Sarah.

Under a small stand of hickory trees, Lucas could see flat fieldstones set upright in the ground. Without asking, he knew that they marked the graves of Lydia's brothers and sisters, along with others of the Stukeleys' relatives and ancestors.

“I—Doc wanted me—I mean, I wanted to know how Sarah—if the plasters helped her any,” he stammered.

“She's dying,” Lewis Stukeley said. His voice was soft, but in it Lucas could hear anger and something else. Determination. “And we aim to do what we can for her.”

“Yes, sir,” said Lucas. Looking again at the shovel in Mr. Stukeley's hand, he was certain that he knew what they planned to do. “Would you like a hand, then, with the digging?” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he knew he meant to speak them.

Mrs. Stukeley drew in a sharp breath.

“It's no business of yours—” Mr. Stukeley began.

But Lucas interrupted him. “Where I came from, north of here, there's a man named Oliver Rood. His son Enoch was dying of consumption. Mr. Rood figured Enoch's sister Mercy was the one making Enoch sick. Mercy died first, you see, same as your Thomas. Mr. Rood said Mercy came back to—to ‘make mischief,' he called it.”

The Stukeleys were watching him closely, their faces guarded. He remembered how Mr. Rood had come to him in friendship, offering to help cure his mother. He was too late to save Mama, he thought fiercely, but at least he could be of use to the Stukeleys. It seemed, suddenly, terribly important that they allow him to help.

He plunged on. “Mr. Rood told me he unearthed Mercy's grave and put her to rest.”

Lucas looked into Mr. Stukeley's eyes. “I don't know how he did it, exactly. But, after that, Enoch got well.”

Mrs. Stukeley spoke carefully. “We heard something about that.”

“Do you know what to do—afterward?” asked Lucas.

“Aye,” said Mr. Stukeley. He seemed to make up his mind about something. “Lydia, run and get the other shovel for Lucas.”

Lydia, Samuel, and Mrs. Stukeley stood by silently as Lucas and Mr. Stukeley together dug slowly into the earth. There was a thin layer of snow, and the ground was frozen down several inches, but the digging became much easier after that. At last, Lucas's shovel hit the wood of the coffin lid. Gently, they scooped the remaining dirt away.

Mr. Stukeley took a deep breath and lifted the lid. Inside lay the body, wrapped in a sheet of plain muslin fastened down the front with pins. Tenderly, Mr. Stukeley unpinned the cloth and opened it.

“Thomas!” cried Lydia. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes looked enormous.

Mrs. Stukeley's head was bowed again in prayer, her lips moving silently. Little Samuel clutched her hand and buried his face in her skirt.

“He could almost be sleeping,” Mr. Stukeley said wonderingly. “But see how his fingernails have grown…He does live!”

Lucas, too, stared at the body, transfixed. The boy looked to be the same age as Lucas. The flesh of his face was full, though bluish in color, and his eyes were fixed and open. Lucas had never seen Thomas Stukeley in life, but the young man in the coffin did look oddly vital. Lucas's mouth felt dry, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

“He does live,” murmured Mr. Stukeley. “He does live.” He looked up at his wife and, for a long moment, their eyes remained locked. Mr. Stukeley looked away. “You know what I have to do, Anna,” he said, almost in a whisper. “Take Samuel and Lydia—”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Stukeley. She leaned down, picked up Samuel, and held him in one arm. With the other hand, she grasped Lydia by the wrist and began to walk down the hillside to the house.

Mr. Stukeley murmured another prayer, his voice so low that Lucas heard only the words, “God help me.” Then he took a small knife from his pocket and, ever so gently, cut into Thomas's chest. Lucas's hand flew to his own breast as he watched.

“They said to find the heart,” Mr. Stukeley said, in a voice so low he might have been talking to himself. “They said it would be here. Yes, that must be it…” Mr. Stukeley examined Thomas's heart. “Living blood,” he said softly, “just as we were told.”

Very carefully, he removed the heart, wrapped it in his handkerchief, and set it carefully on the snow-covered ground. Then he pinned the sheet closed over Thomas's body. Together, Lucas and Mr. Stukeley put the lid back on the coffin and covered it with dirt once more.

Mr. Stukeley carried Thomas's heart back to the house, where Mrs. Stukeley had the fire blazing. Lucas watched, transfixed, as Sarah was brought over to the hearth. Mr. Stukeley placed the heart in the flames. As it burned, Mrs. Stukeley fanned the smoke into the room, toward Sarah, who breathed deeply of it. Then the others, too, moved closer to breathe in the smoke. When the flames died down, Mrs. Stukeley gathered the ashes, mixed them with water, and gave the potion to Sarah to drink.

Lucas joined the family in a prayer for Sarah's recovery, then made ready to leave. The family was quiet and subdued, as befitted such a solemn ritual. But, afterward, there was something new in the room and in the faces of the Stukeley family. It was hope. Lucas could feel it filling his own heart as well, as he rode slowly back to Doc's in the darkness.

 

When he had rubbed down Jasper and given him an extra portion of oats, Lucas stopped by the next stall to give Moses's nose a rub. “Sorry for leaving you behind, Moses,” he said. “But I couldn't very well ride the both of you, now, could I?”

Moses rolled his eye, but moved his head so Lucas could rub between his ears.

“Come on, boy.” Lucas coaxed him with a laugh. He continued to talk soothingly as he scratched the big horse's head. “Don't be feeling sorry for yourself. I'll take you next time, how's that?” With a final pat to Moses's smooth back, Lucas went to the house to find Doc Beecher. He couldn't wait to tell Doc what had happened at the Stukeley farm.

To his disappointment, he was greeted in the kitchen by Mrs. Bunce, who said, “Dr. Beecher has gone to bed, Lucas, and at this late hour I've already had my supper. I've kept yours warm. But, first, it's time for you to bathe.”

At the mention of supper, Lucas's stomach growled, and he looked longingly at the pot that sat on the cookstove.

“There's hot water and soap and, as you can see, I've washed your clothes.”

Lucas sighed. So it was to be another bath. He thought of Eben Oaks asking, “Is she as persnickety as they say?” and his lips twitched in a smile. Once again he promised himself that he'd ask whether Doc held to all this washing and bath-taking.

Doc. He'd been feeling “puny” that morning, and had gone to bed early. “How's Doc?” Lucas asked Mrs. Bunce. As soon as he asked the question, he realized he was afraid to hear the answer.

“Much better, he says,” she answered briskly. “You be sure and wash up properly, mind you,” she said, turning to leave the room.

“Yes, ma'am,” said Lucas.

Shivering as he undressed, Lucas wished again that Doc was awake so that they could talk over Sarah Stukeley's cure. Washing himself “properly,” as he'd been instructed, he marveled at how much his life had changed in the short time since he had come to be apprenticed to Doc Beecher. Here he was, he thought, grinning sheepishly, taking his second bath in only—what?—five days.

But it was more than just the bathing. More, too, than the big house with all the fine and fancy things in it, that made his life here so different. Lucas struggled to fix in his mind just exactly what it was that felt so new. It was something about Doc himself. It was the way Doc talked to Lucas.

At home on the farm, life had been hard. Mama, Pa, Asa, and Lucas himself had all worked from sunup to sundown just to finish the chores. When dark came, they usually fell into exhausted sleep. There was laughter and there was talk, sure, but most often it was about the crops or the weather, or the work that had to be done the next day.

Pa had been, for the most part, a quiet man. Mama was the one who told Lizy and Lucas stories and read to them from the Bible. But no one had ever before talked to Lucas the way Doc had talked in the wagon the night they'd left the Stukeleys together. Doc asked big questions about things that Lucas had wondered about but had never really thought to put into words. He felt as if Doc's talking had loosened up all those thoughts inside him, and now they wanted to come pouring out. Doc's talk put Lucas in mind of a world bigger than the farm, bigger than Southwick, a world that was thrilling and mysterious. It made him want to know more.

He'd felt helpless and ignorant, watching his family die. If only he'd known then what he knew now! Sometimes doctoring meant doing unpleasant things, such as pulling Daniel's tooth or taking off Clem Buell's leg. But now that those things had been done, Daniel was feeling better and Clem would live. Working with Doc had shown Lucas how good it felt to be able to help people who were sick or troubled.

And tonight, on the ride home from the Stukeley farmstead, he had felt exhilarated. Now that Thomas Stukeley had been unearthed, his heart burned, and the cure completed, Sarah Stukeley would live, too. Lucas was sure of it.