The Apprenticeship of Lucas Whitaker (8 page)

That evening, Lucas, Doc Beecher, and Mrs. Bunce were in the kitchen sharing their evening meal when they heard a loud banging at the door to Doc's office. Lucas went to see who it was, and found a man who introduced himself as William Sheldon.

“I came to see Doc Beecher,” he said. Looking at the man's face, Lucas was reminded of Lydia Stukeley's expression that afternoon. This man, too, appeared to be filled with some strong feeling.

“Come with me,” said Lucas. “Doc's back here, in the kitchen.”

“Good evening, William,” said Mrs. Bunce when she saw their visitor.

“Sit, William, sit,” said Doc, pulling out a chair. “How is Lavinia? I've been meaning to get out to see how she's coming along, but this blasted cold weather has made a coward of me, I'm afraid.”

William Sheldon remained standing. He had removed his hat, and Lucas noticed that he was twisting it nervously in his hands.

“Will you join us in some supper?” asked Doc.

“No, thank you, Doc,” he said. “I can't stay. I only came to ask—” He stopped, took a deep breath, and began again. “I know you heard about how the Stukeley girl was cured. The whole town's heard about it by now, I reckon. There's a good number of folks who've got family sick and dying of consumption—” Here his voice came near to breaking, and he stopped to swallow before continuing. “Like Lavinia, Doc. She's worse than ever.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, William,” said Doc.

“Lewis Stukeley's been telling all around town the way he dug up his son Thomas and took his heart, and how Sarah breathed the smoke from burning it, and how it cured her. And some of us got to talking at Talbot's store and we thought—”

Mrs. Bunce's hands had risen slowly from her lap to her own heart. “What are you saying? What?” She stopped. Her face looked deathly pale in the lamplight.

Doc Beecher reached across the table and took one of her hands and held it. “I'll explain in a moment, Cora,” he said. “Let's hear William out.”

“I guess Mrs. Stukeley found out about the cure from kinfolk someplace. When Lewis Stukeley spoke of it at the store, Isaac Talbot said he'd heard of something like that from a traveler who passed through here a while back. This fellow told of a village in Vermont where folks gathered on the green for a curing ceremony. They burned the hearts of the undead ones right there on the blacksmith's anvil. The man told Isaac it was the end of consumption in the village.”

“Undead ones?” Mrs. Bunce repeated in a quavering voice. “Uriah, what do you know about this?”

“I've heard some talk of it,” answered Doc Beecher. Turning once again to William Sheldon, he asked, “Why have you come to see me, William?”

Sheldon shifted uncomfortably and twisted his hands tighter around his hat. “We're spreading the word to all whose families are afflicted with the consumption, Doc. And those that wish to benefit from the remedy will meet tomorrow in the town square. In that town in Vermont I guess there was some doctors from the local medical college who helped out, and we were hoping—Well, folks asked would I see if you'd attend and do whatever you can. We'd like your boy here, who's had some experience from the sounds of it, to come as well.”

“I'm sorry to hear that Lavinia is doing poorly,” said Doc. “If I thought that what you're suggesting would help her, or any of the others who are ill, I'd be the first to join you. But I don't hold with the practice you're speaking of. It's superstition, pure and simple, William.”

Lucas had been listening with growing dismay. He could contain himself no longer. “But, Doc, Sarah Stukeley! She was cured!” he cried.

“Remember our talk this afternoon?” Doc asked quietly. “What you're hearing is the rooster crowing, lad.”

Mrs. Bunce stared from one to the other as if they all had taken leave of their senses.

William Sheldon was looking down at his hat, trying to poke it back into shape for wearing. “Doc, those medicines you gave me for Lavinia aren't helping. She's…dying.”

Doc's face was in shadow, but Lucas thought he'd never heard such pain and sorrow as was in Doc's voice when he answered. “I'm truly sorry, William. But there's nothing else I can do.”

“I got to try this, Doc,” said William Sheldon. His eyes, suddenly filled with tears, looked pleadingly at Doc.

“I know,” said Doc softly. “I know.”

There was an awkward silence. “I'll be going, then,” said Sheldon.

“I shall pray for Lavinia, William,” said Doc. “But I won't be at the square tomorrow.” As Sheldon turned to leave, Doc added, “And neither will the lad.”

No one at the table said a word as the sound of William Sheldon's footsteps faded down the hallway. When the door closed behind him, Mrs. Bunce spoke. “Well. What on earth was that about, Uriah? It sounds as if the entire town has gone mad!”

“No, Cora, not mad. But they're caught up in a powerful spell,” said Doc. “And I'm afraid they're in for a bitter disappointment.”

Lucas sat fidgeting anxiously while Doc explained to Mrs. Bunce about the cure. When Doc paused for a moment, Lucas couldn't help himself. “Sarah Stukeley
was
cured, Mrs. Bunce. I was there.”

Cora Bunce drew in her breath sharply.

“And I want to be at the town square tomorrow, too,” Lucas said.

“You'll do no such thing,” Mrs. Bunce declared firmly. “The idea of an apprentice to Dr. Beecher taking part in such nonsense! Why, people would think Uriah approved.”

Lucas appealed to Doc. “Mr. Sheldon thinks I can help!”

“Just what is it you can do to assist, lad?” asked Doc.

“I—I don't know exactly,” Lucas admitted. “But, well, it seems like neighbors should help each other out when there's trouble. Or at least try,” he added.

Doc Beecher sighed. “Even when no good will come of it?” he asked.

“I don't know that!” cried Lucas. “And I don't see how you can be so sure you're right!” He stared down at the table, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart. He hadn't meant to talk rudely to Doc, who had shown him nothing but kindness. Still…

Then, to his surprise, Doc said quietly, “All right, lad. Go to the town square tomorrow. Help if you can.”

“Uriah!” Mrs. Bunce said, frowning at her brother in irritation.

“Now get along to bed,” Doc went on, looking at Lucas. “It's been a tiring day.”

Lucas got up slowly from the table. “Thank you, Doc,” he whispered. As he walked past the parlor to his room, he heard Mrs. Bunce's indignant voice. “Uriah, what can you be thinking of? The whole business is ridiculous.”

And Doc's melancholy reply: “Yes, Cora. But it gives me no pleasure to know that.”

Lucas lay on the bed, his eyes wide open, his thoughts racing. He tried to be still, but his body felt prickly and jumpy. He was eager for the morning to come, for the ceremony to take place at the town square, for the sick to be cured, and for Doc to see that Lucas had been right.

When the first frail light began to show in the eastern sky, Lucas could lie in bed no longer. He rose, did every task he could think of to please Mrs. Bunce, and then, quietly, he left by the kitchen door.

The town was just beginning to come awake as he walked down the still dark main street. Windows brightened as candles and lamps were lit; the smell of wood smoke drifted through the air. Lucas smelled biscuits baking and tried to ignore his hunger.

When Lucas arrived at the deserted town square, he found a spot out of the wind and waited. The day, which had started out bright and clear, turned dark and dreary by early afternoon, when the first townsfolk appeared at the square. The snow and ice had melted, and the road was muddy and filled with deep ruts. A cold drizzle began to fall, making the footing even more perilous. Lucas stood with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, watching.

William Sheldon was one of the first to arrive. Behind him in the wagon, bundled against the damp chill under layers of quilts, lay a woman Lucas guessed was his wife, Lavinia. William turned to her and spoke, and Lucas heard her cough weakly in response.

More people came, struggling through the mud and rain, some on foot, some on horseback, others, as sick as Lavinia Sheldon, lying in the backs of wagons. Most were strangers to Lucas, but he saw a few people he knew. Eben Oaks, James Freeman, and several other men were carrying wood and stacking it in a pyramid-shaped pile in the center of the square. Daniel and Mrs. Oaks stood huddled by the door of the blacksmith shop, trying to keep warm. The Stukeley family pulled up in their wagon and Lucas went to greet them.

As he made his way through the thickening crowd, he overheard bits of conversation and snatches of hushed voices.

“—hasn't been a case of consumption in Vermont since they—”

“—see Sarah Stukeley?”

“—the very picture of health.”

Lucas smiled, looking over toward Sarah. Though still pale and thin, she was smiling brightly and talking to the well-wishers who gathered around the wagon. Continuing to push past groups of townspeople to get to the Stukeleys, Lucas couldn't help but hear more of the talk. He felt his neck flush when someone whispered, “There's Doc Beecher's apprentice. He's the one who saved the Stukeley girl.”

“They say he's cured lots of others…”

“I heard that when they opened Thomas Stukeley's coffin, Thomas sat right up and opened his eyes!”

“Yes, and his heart was filled with fresh blood.”

“It poured right out of his mouth—”

“He screamed when they cut into him—”

“—like to make your hair curl—”

Lucas listened uneasily, his smile turning to a frown. He wanted to stop and say, “That's not the way it happened,” but he felt shy about talking to people he didn't know, who, after all, hadn't been talking to him. He walked on, shaking his head, wondering where people had heard such things. It reminded him of something Doc had said.

At that moment, Lydia looked up and saw him, and he forgot everything else. “Lucas!” she called happily. “Look! Here's Sarah.”

Lucas said hello to Sarah, Lydia, and Samuel. Then, turning back to Sarah, he added, “You're looking fit as a fiddle.” It was an expression he'd heard Doc use. Sarah beamed.

“But you, Lucas,” said Lydia, “look frozen stiff. Get up here in the wagon under the blankets. We've brought hot cider and some biscuits, too. Would you like some?”

Gratefully, Lucas sipped the cider and munched on a biscuit, snuggling under the warm wool coverlet with Lydia, Sarah, and young Samuel Stukeley. The sky grew darker, and a chilly wind blew from the northwest. Parson Reynolds arrived and stood by while the final sticks of wood were placed on the pile.

Lucas, his hunger satisfied for the moment, looked about him. Usually when so many people gathered together there was a mood of merriment. But the atmosphere on the square was not like that at a husking bee, or a wedding, or a dance. People's faces were grave, their voices hushed. Occasionally, the sound of agonized coughing carried on the wind. It was like being in church, Lucas thought.

And, indeed, at that moment, Parson Reynolds began to speak. “We are gathered here, my friends, in the eyes of Almighty God, to bring about the healing of our brothers and sisters stricken with the scourge of consumption. We have witnessed the miraculous recovery of one of our flock, Miss Sarah Stukeley, and recognize that God the Father works in mysterious ways which are not always given us to understand.

“We come in faith and hope. We come in the knowledge that God helps those who help themselves. We thank those who have led us to this cure, that we may use it to help our loved ones. May God bless us and our endeavor. Let us pray.”

All bowed their heads in prayer, their voices murmuring along with that of Parson Reynolds. Then Lewis Stukeley rose to speak.

In a voice so low the crowd had to strain to hear it above the wind, Mr. Stukeley said, “I am a simple, God-fearing man. I watched three of my children die. I tried to tell myself it was God's will. But why, I asked myself, would God want my babies to die. I could find no answer.

“Anna and I, we tried everything we knew and everything Doc Beecher knew to do, but nothing helped. And so when I heard tell of this cure we're about to perform, I knew I had to try and save our Sarah. And, by God, she was saved!”

Heads turned toward them, and people nodded and smiled at Sarah. Lucas heard murmurs: “Praise God” and “Amen.” Then, to Lucas's surprise, Lewis Stukeley pointed to him.

“Young Lucas Whitaker there, the one in the wagon with my family, he helped. He'd heard of the cure, too, where he came from. Folks in Vermont and Rhode Island, some say even as far away as Maine, have put an end to this sickness. And that's why we're here, to do the same.

“Those of you who have sick ones in the family were told what you needed to do before you came here today. We're going to light this fire now, and those of you with—with something to place upon it, come on up here. When it's burning good, we'll let the sickest folks be brought up first, to breathe in the smoke, before we take our turns. Afterward, those who want some of the ashes are welcome to 'em.”

Lewis nodded to Eben Oaks, who set the pile of logs alight. There was a long moment when no one moved. Everyone stared, transfixed, as the fire crackled to life. Then, slowly, one by one, people began to come forward.

It gave Lucas a peculiar feeling to see the offerings they held carefully in their hands. The bundles were covered in cloth, or placed in boxes of wood or containers of tin, or, in one case, wrapped in dried husks of corn. The packages contained the hearts of family members who had been buried.

As the bundles were fed to the flames, Lucas touched his own heart and thought that if he were the one returning to make folks sick, he'd want someone to stop him. Likely these souls, too, wished to be put to rest.

Lucas had never before been part of something so big and important, and his throat felt thick, as if he were about to cry. He watched as William Sheldon carried his wife, Lavinia, in his arms, carried her close to the smoke from the blazing fire. A look of rapture passed over her face as she took the cure, breathing deeply once, twice, three times, of the life-saving smoke.

Lucas looked at William's face. It, too, shone radiantly in the light from the fire. He looked around at all the people gathered in the square and saw the same glowing look of hope and expectation, and felt his own face transformed by it, too. He felt dazed and overwhelmed, as if his body couldn't contain the powerful, mysterious feelings he had inside.

By the time Lucas and the Stukeleys went forward to pass slowly by the fire, an early darkness had begun to creep across the village square. People stood in the gathering dusk, watching the last embers of the fire flicker and fade. Then quietly, solemnly, they collected ashes to take with them.

The wind had died down, and a few stars peeked down from the blue-black sky. Lucas walked back to the wagon with the Stukeleys, and helped Lydia up onto the seat. “I'm glad you came today, Lucas,” she said.

“I'm glad, too,” Lucas answered truthfully, adding, “I hope to see you soon.”

“Yes,” said Lydia, smiling. “I hope so. Good night, Lucas.”

Lucas said goodbye to the Stukeleys and stood waving until their wagon was out of sight. He looked around and saw that he was the only person left at the square. The fire had burned down to a faint reddish glow.

Still full of the power and mystery of the ceremony, Lucas began to walk slowly back to Doc's house. He wanted to hold on to the feeling of awe and certainty as long as he could, and he didn't know which was going to be harder to face, Doc's kindly skepticism or the scorn and disapproval of Mrs. Bunce.