The House on Malcolm Street (31 page)

“Let’s see if it starts. If it doesn’t, we hoof it to town for the doctor and then see what we can harvest or work on here that’ll do the most good.”

“Mama ain’t wantin’ the doctor. She tol’ us that. Can’t pay him, and he don’t contribute more’n common sense gives ya anyhow, most times.”

“I understand. But Leah needs the extra pair of hands and maybe a word of advice and I’m not about to argue. If he wants money, I’ll guarantee it to him, since I’m the one fetchin’ him. I’ll drop it off to you from my next pay.”

“Mister! You ain’t gotta do that!”

“Ain’t gotta be here at all, but I couldn’t do otherwise. Some things need to be done, and that’s all there is to it.”

The truck started, and it rumbled rough, just like he’d said. But it’d surely get us there, and that was good enough.

Bobby thought we’d have room to haul for both the canner and the grocer since we didn’t have a full load for either one. I agreed, thinking it was worth a try at selling what we’d picked. Harvest for the rest would come soon enough. He helped me load everything, starting with the pumpkins for the grocer. Then we covered them with gunnysacks and added the rest.

I sent Bobby to the house for Leah’s list, gladly anticipating a moment alone. I’d intended to pray, but my mind wandered to puzzling about why Marigold would send Leah. Hadn’t Mr. Abraham told her I was planning to help? Maybe not, because the only reason I’d determined to come here was to get somebody to the Kurchers’
today
. If I’d known anybody else had agreed, I would have stayed in Andersonville.

Bobby came running back out with Leah’s paper, pleased as he could be. “Mama’s gonna be proud,” he said.

“Rightly so.”

He climbed in the passenger seat, excited to be on our way. I took a deep breath and turned the crank again. The truck started with a sputter and a cough, and I moved quickly to the driver’s seat. And just sat.

“What’s the matter?” Bobby asked.

I stretched my hand to the steering wheel, my eyes to the long, rutted driveway. “Nothing.”
Help me, Lord.

My heart pounded viciously as I put the truck in gear and it lurched forward. It seemed so familiar, so terribly, terrifyingly the same. Several times I’d dreamed of driving again. And it had always ended badly.

“You’ll have to direct me. I don’t know the area,” I told Bob, hoping he wouldn’t discern the tension in my voice.

“I know,” he said cheerfully. “Otherwise, I might a’ stayed home to dig taters. ’Cept that Francis at the cannery might like seeing a Kurcher over a stranger. He’s already agreed to take most all we can bring him.”

“Good. But to the doctor first. Do you know where to find him?”

“I think so. I think it’s a little brick house behind the milliner.”

We didn’t talk much on the way, which was good. My mind was too distracted to have responded much to him anyway. I kept picturing myself swerving, crashing this truck and killing this precious child. My grip on the wheel was tight, and I could feel a surge of panic every time I even saw another vehicle on the road, even if it didn’t come near us.

God, please. Help me not to mess this up and hurt anyone. Calm me, please. It’s going to be okay.

Bobby’s directions took us to the only doctor in the area, a balding man named Harold Flatt who knew exactly the farm we meant and was willing to drive himself there as we went on to our other necessary business.

“I wouldn’t mind having a nice big pumpkin for my services,” he told us.

Bobby smiled. “Whichever one you want.”

Francis at the cannery took the pumpkins as Bobby had predicted and paid cash for them. But the grocer was a good deal pickier. He took only about half of what we’d selected for him but said he’d probably have plenty of room for more later. “Check with me every couple of days,” he said. “I’d keep a steady supply clear past Thanksgiving if I could.”

“We’ll do the best we can, Mr. Fletcher. Thank you very much,” Bobby told him politely. I’d have to tell his mother how well he’d done, nicely introducing me and everything. She should be proud of her boy.

“I ain’t never got to sell before,” he whispered to me as we began picking out the things on Leah’s list. “That was great.”

“I’d have thought you did it every time,” I told him.

“I only just watched.”

It was a bare bones list of groceries we filled. Bobby told me that Leah had consulted his mother and she’d advised what she called a “working minimum” for now, until they knew how much the crop would bring and what other needs there might be. But I was sure the addition to garden vegetables, especially the flour, baking powder, and sugar, would be greatly appreciated in that household. Might even help stir the appetites of some of those children to smell something baking again.

The drive back to the farm wasn’t such a battle; the tension in me had subsided and I could breathe a little easier. This was not so bad after all. And that gave me a very good feeling. I’d told myself that I would never drive again,
should
never drive again, because of the harm I could do to someone else. It’d been a double binding – guilt and fear – and I’d broken through it to help a family in need. That felt like a considerable victory, and whether she knew it or not, Leah was largely responsible. She’d been angry. She probably wouldn’t want to speak to me. Yet now I felt that I ought to thank her.

Maybe she’d be able to hear it and not think me a coldhearted imbecile for suggesting that she leave the house. Maybe. But she’d probably just turn her back and tell me to leave her alone again.

26
Leah

In the midst of everything, annoyingly persistent thoughts of Josiah kept creeping up on me. He could be giving and kind. Or terribly thoughtless and abrupt. Depending on the circumstance.

And here at the Kurchers’, I’d seen something else. A scared child looking through his eyes. He’d driven again, despite considerable turmoil. I’d pushed him to it, and I hoped there wouldn’t be resentment to complicate things in front of these children.

I truly didn’t want a continuing conflict with Josiah, but there seemed no real way to avoid it, as though we’d been set as roadblocks in each other’s paths. At least I could be certain that the sheer volume of need here would keep us both busy. There simply wouldn’t be time for words.

I was very grateful for that, because I wasn’t sure I’d be any good at controlling my own emotions right now. One of the Kurcher girls was about Ellie’s size, and I grew teary seeing her sick, thinking of my own little girl and missing her badly.

What would I ever do without her? What if something were to happen to keep us apart? Was she missing me, tearful and afraid? And if so, how could Marigold console her?

It was hard to concentrate on the tasks at hand as long as my mind was on Eliza, but if I forced my thinking away from her, then it wandered back to the strange vulnerability I’d seen in Josiah, and that was no better.

At last, a doctor arrived, and I could feel at least a little more ease. Mrs. Kurcher was terribly troubled at first that he’d come, until he told her he’d made an agreement with her son for a pumpkin. It made me smile that the boy would be willing to bargain for his family’s sake, and that this doctor was kindhearted enough to happily accept such payment for his services.

I was glad when I saw the truck returning down the lane later with much of its burden gone. Surely Josiah and Bobby would be bringing the groceries I’d sorely need to prepare the next meal. But I was still apprehensive. At Marigold’s house I’d seen Josiah storming off or shutting himself away when something upset him. Would he react that way to me here because of the way I’d pushed him? I was afraid he might, and for that reason I made sure to be upstairs when he and Bobby carried the groceries in.

I soon heard the boy run to speak to his mother. From the energy of his footfalls, I assumed that he must have been pleased with what they had accomplished. I wasn’t sure where Josiah had gone, but I was glad not to have to face him.

Doctor Flatt confirmed my thought that something besides measles was at work among at least some of the Kurchers. “Could be just a touch of la grippe,” he told me. “There’s a bit of it going around the area. Three or four other families are dealing with measles in the county as well, though I’ve not seen any with a plague of both like this.”

“Could it be serious?”

“I don’t think so. They all seem to be coming around all right. I’d expect a great improvement in just a few days. They’ll probably be full of energy and appetite again before you know it. Except perhaps your mother.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed in surprise. “I’m not one of the Kurcher children, sir. I’m a visitor, come to help for a couple of days because they’re sick. But why are you worried for Mrs. Kurcher? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing to fret over. She just needs to know that too much too soon will wear her down weak again. She’ll have to get as much help as she can even after she begins to feel better to make sure she isn’t worn to a frazzle taking care of a household this size. I hope you can stay a while. It’s very kind of you to help.” He glanced out the window and then back at me. “That must have been your husband I met in town with the Kurcher boy and that load of pumpkins then. Are they back yet?”

“They’re back,” I offered soberly. “But he’s not my husband.”

“Oh.” He had an odd look on his face.

I tried to ignore it. “What about Dodie’s spots? They’re not the same as the measles, surely?”

He shook his head. “It looks like a contact rash more than anything else. Something she got into outside on top of everything else.”

I suppose there was no reason to be surprised. And at least he didn’t expect anyone to worsen. But la grippe? That was almost the same as influenza, wasn’t it? That plague again? I asked him if I was in danger of becoming sick myself, or carrying the illness with me to others after I left.

“I don’t think that will happen.” He tried to calm my worries. “This is not like what we saw a couple of years ago. I’m just glad it’s not the dead of winter. Doesn’t seem so virulent in the fall for some reason.”

Doctor Flatt stayed for several hours, helping me with compresses and taking the time to observe each child long enough to be sure of his diagnosis. I was not the only one who had worried that things might worsen, so he set minds to ease while he was there, and took two pumpkins with him when he left. He’d administered medicine to the patients who needed it most, and since there was very little remaining in the bottle, he promised to return and bring more.

I guess it was a natural mistake for him to think that Josiah could be my husband. A couple of the Kurcher children had asked me about that too, even though we hadn’t arrived together. It was an embarrassing spot to be in, and I was careful to make sure they knew the truth.

Some of the children already had improving appetites so I decided a treat of some kind was in order. Some simple cake, not too thick, nor too sweet, might be just the thing.

Beth Ann asked Bobby and Josiah to dig more potatoes. I thought I’d use some of those to make a nourishing potato soup with some of the milk and butter they’d brought from town. That might be more appealing than the assorted vegetable soup and broth I’d made earlier with scarcely anything to season it.

For now, soups were an easy way to make a large quantity and to satisfy the varying appetites in the household. Some might be able to take only a bit of broth like earlier in the day. Others were hungry already and anxious for a full, hearty bowlful. Mrs. Kurcher had made sure to put crackers on the grocery list, especially for those whose stomachs were a bit unsettled, and for Dougy, who’d apparently been wanting some for weeks.

Both the soup and the cake went over better than I’d expected. Especially the cake. I had to limit some of the children and admonish them to eat it slowly, so they’d not tax their stomachs so soon and end up with a bellyache. Apparently, it’d been weeks since they’d had anything of the sort, and it seemed to lift everyone’s spirits.

I was completely exhausted by nightfall, but I helped Beth Ann get all the younger children cleaned up and tucked in. It was heartening to be asked by more than one if they’d have to spend the whole day in their rooms tomorrow too. Hankering to be moving about was definitely a good sign. Tomorrow might be even more of a wild and chaotic day than this one had been if more of the children were up. But having them so quickly on the mend would be well worth it.

I hadn’t given much thought to where I might sleep. Beth Ann offered her bed, which she shared with a younger sister, but I accepted instead the pallet on the floor she was going to make for herself.

I don’t even know where Josiah slept. He’d continued at the harvest work as long as he had daylight. After that, I’d thought he might say something to me about how it had been for him to drive again, but I stayed busy with the children’s needs and he didn’t interrupt. He went outside after claiming a bit of supper, and I didn’t see him come back in.

I lay for a long time that night, staring up at the chipped paint on the ceiling of the Kurchers’ sitting room. Though I’d had so much trouble praying before, it seemed considerably more possible now. Because I missed Eliza and worried for her, my first feeble prayer was for her. Then I made the simple plea for the Kurchers all to be well.

My father came to mind. Might he be much improved already? He seemed entirely too stubborn to be sick for long, but there was really no way for me to know. Then I thought of Josiah, maybe sleeping in the barn. I was sure I wasn’t mistaken about the fear I’d seen in him earlier. Yet he’d not shown any sign of the resentment I’d expected when he got back. He’d been civil, what little I’d seen of him. But he’d seemed to be watching me. A little too much for my comfort’s sake.

I should have been able to sleep. I felt physically, emotionally drained. But instead, I just stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, piecing this whole day together in my mind, along with all the time I’d spent with Marigold. What if she’d sent me here on purpose to be here when Josiah was here? What if it was her intention to make sure we continued to encounter each other and work together, even though he’d tried so hard to separate himself by moving out of her house?