The Promise of Morning (8 page)

When the two men stopped their horses in the Craig farmyard, Matthew noted with thankfulness the presence of Arthur New-berry’s horse and buggy tied behind the house. He hadn’t been altogether sure whether Ruby would be willing to mend the rift between them and make the trip to see her niece.

Karl dismounted and followed Matthew through the back door.

Ellie raised her head, desperation in her eyes. “Thank God you’re here.” She held Julia toward Karl, still supporting the child’s head.

Matthew saw that nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone. Their baby drooped in her mother’s grasp, her blonde brilliance dulled.

Karl crossed the room and took Julia in his arms. “Someone bring a cloth for the table. I want to examine her here where the light’s good.”

Ruby ran upstairs and returned carrying a dark blue coverlet, which she flipped over the tabletop. She looked at the doctor. “Anything else?”

“Not now.” He laid Julia on her back, pulling her nightgown up to her chin. The child’s legs flopped open. “How long has she been sick?” he asked Ellie.

“It started a couple of days ago with her not wanting to eat. Then I noticed that she wasn’t . . . uh, needing her diaper changed.” Ellie put out a shaky hand and stroked the blonde wisps that fell across Julia’s forehead.

Karl raised the baby’s knee and then let go of it. As soon as he moved his hand away, her leg dropped back into its sprawled position. “What about this?”

“Just since this morning.” Ellie’s voice quavered.

Matthew moved closer and put an arm around her. Arthur and Ruby stood behind him, Ruby’s hands resting on Maria’s shoulders. As one, they searched the doctor’s face for a sign of good news.

Karl ran his hands over Julia’s body, lifting each arm in turn. He tested her vision by moving his finger in front of her face. Placing his ear against her chest, he listened to her heartbeat. Finally he pushed one of his knuckles gently into her mouth.

“Why are you doing that?” Matthew asked.

“To see if she’ll suck it.” He shook his head. “She didn’t.”

He drew Julia’s gown back over her feet. “She didn’t get into anything outdoors, did she? Maybe putting leaves in her mouth?”

Ellie looked offended. “Of course not. I watch her very carefully. You know that.”

Matthew studied his wife’s face. She looked more pale than Julia. Her blue eyes were reddened with fatigue.

He knew he’d have to be the one to ask the question. “Well, Doc?”

“Could be brain fever—I don’t know.”

“Is she going to get better?”

“I don’t know that, either.” Karl scrubbed his fingers across his face. “I’m sorry.”

After Karl left, Ellie carried Julia upstairs to the bedroom and sat with her in the low chair next to the fireplace. Laying her head against the baby’s soft curls, she rocked and hummed. Julia’s eyes drooped shut. Her body relaxed.

The door creaked on its hinges. Ellie glanced up and saw Aunt Ruby hesitating on the threshold.

Ellie lifted a finger to her lips and whispered, “She’s sleeping.”

“That’s good.” Aunt Ruby kept her voice low. “Doc said rest would be the best thing to bring her around.” She tiptoed into the room and perched on the edge of the bed. “What can I do to help? Do you want me to sit with her?”

Ellie shook her head. With the baby’s eyes closed, and her body tight against Ellie’s, she didn’t look sick at all. But as soon as she was placed in the crib, the illusion disappeared. Julia’s head rolled to one side, her limbs splayed as though she had no bones.

Fear rose in Ellie’s throat like bile. She turned toward the door, motioning Aunt Ruby to follow.

When they were in the hallway, Aunt Ruby opened her arms and Ellie pressed into her embrace, clinging to her the way she had as a little girl. “I’m so frightened. I just can’t lose Julia.”

“Don’t talk nonsense, child. You know how quick young’uns come back from sickness.”

Ellie backed up a step. “I know how quick they succumb too.” Memories of her three precious babies filled her mind—tiny, pale bodies laid in small coffins. So quiet, so cold.

Aunt Ruby nodded, sympathy written across her face. “Yes, dear, I know you do.” She took both of Ellie’s hands in hers. “But for your sake, you need to trust that she’s going to be perfectly restored.”

Seeing her aunt’s reassuring expression, Ellie allowed herself to feel a sliver of hope. Aunt Ruby’s pragmatism annoyed her at times. Now she saw it as full of promise.

“I’ll go down and cook supper. You stay here if that’s what you want. I’ll fix you a tray.” Briskly, with a “that’s settled” air, Aunt Ruby trotted down the stairs into the kitchen.

Before Ellie closed the bedroom door, she heard a clamor of voices as the boys returned from woodcutting. It sounded like they were each talking at once, asking about Julia.

“She’s sleeping nicely,” Aunt Ruby said, her voice clipped. “If you boys will keep quiet, she’ll be able to continue.”

Ellie shut the door on her family and took up her vigil beside the crib.

7

Ellie stood close to the open grave, her aunt and uncle on one side and her husband on the other. Their four children clung together next to Matthew. She heard them sniffle while Mr. Wolcott read a brief funeral message from a thick Bible held in his right hand. Matthew’s body shook with silent sobs, but Ellie hadn’t been able to cry since the night Julia died.

“‘Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God,’” Mr. Wolcott read. He turned toward Matthew and Ellie. “Julia has been spared all the pain that goes with life on this earth. She’s safe in the arms of Jesus.”

His words buzzed in her ears like so many bees. She couldn’t follow the service. Her only thought was to get home and crawl into bed, away from the reach of the well-meaning townspeople who surrounded them.

Mr. Wolcott handed her a small spade, a gesture signifying the close of the service
.
Ellie pushed the spade into the pile of earth in front of her, quivering both with emotion and lack of food. She flung a shovelful onto the white wooden coffin resting at the bottom of the grave. The damp soil landed with a hollow thunk.

She turned to hand the tool to Matthew and couldn’t find him. A blanket of gray obscured everything around her. The hole in the earth disappeared, and she felt herself float away to someplace warm and quiet.

When Ellie opened her eyes, she lay on the front seat of their wagon. Matthew’s worried face stared down at her. “The sun shouldn’t be shining today,” she said. “Funerals are meant to be dark.”

He turned his head, speaking to someone out of her range of vision. “She’s awake.”

Behind him, Aunt Ruby’s voice responded. “Glory be.” The wagon jiggled as she climbed up beside her niece. “You like to scared us half to death, child.”

Ellie pushed herself up on one elbow. Her children were clustered on the rear seat.

“Mama?” Maria leaned forward. “Are you all right now?”

She reached up and touched her daughter’s cheek. “Yes, I think so. I don’t know what happened.”

Aunt Ruby hovered next to her. “You caused quite a stir. You’ve been out for some time.”

“I have?” It felt like mere seconds had passed since she held the shovel at the burial site.

“At least five minutes.”

Ellie noticed a knot of townspeople lingering nearby. Matthew’s fists clenched when Mr. Beldon detached himself from the group and walked to the wagon.

“Reverend Craig. I wonder if I may be of assistance.” He gestured toward the edge of the cemetery, where a plum-colored phaeton waited in the dappled shade of a hickory tree. “Mrs. Beldon and I would be pleased to carry your wife home in our conveyance. It’s far more comfortably appointed than your wagon.” The links on his golden watch chain shot sparks of light across Matthew’s face. “At such a time, I’m sure her well-being is foremost in your mind.”

Ellie listened to him, dazed. Why would a stranger intrude on a family matter? She glanced in the direction of Beldon’s carriage. The phaeton’s folding cover had been raised, hiding his wife from view.

Matthew cocked his head toward the man. “Thank you for your kind offer. Mrs. Craig is fine right where she is.” His voice sounded as cold as the gravestones surrounding them.

Mr. Beldon nodded. “As you wish.” He lifted his hat toward Ellie. “Please accept my condolences.” He strode toward his carriage, not pausing to speak to any of the few families still gathered in the cemetery.

“It was nice of him to offer,” Aunt Ruby said.

Shooting her an annoyed look, Matthew untied Samson and guided their wagon toward home.

Ellie sat up in bed and gazed around the room. Afternoon sunshine fought its way through closed curtains, highlighting the rocking chair resting next to the empty crib. Head aching, she stood and walked to the west-facing window, noting the path her gown left in the dust where it brushed the wooden floor. Below her, several pairs of boys’ pants flapped on the clothesline. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Laundry on the line meant it was probably Monday. What had happened to Saturday and Sunday?

She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house smelled faintly of soap and warm turpentine. Ellie crept to the top of the stairway and peered down into the kitchen. The copper wash boiler steamed unattended on the rear of the stove. Floorboards creaked on the porch. Curious, she descended the stairs to open the back door.

Aunt Ruby turned from the wooden tub where she’d been scrubbing what looked like one of Matthew’s shirts. “What’re you doing out here in your nightdress? And barefoot?”

Looking down, Ellie saw her aunt was right. “I don’t know.”

Aunt Ruby dropped the sodden garment into the washtub. “Let’s go in.” She wiped her hands on her apron. Sliding an arm around her niece, she guided her to the table. “Sit. I’ll bring you a cup of broth.”

Ellie obeyed, the fog in her head beginning to evaporate. “Where are the children?”

“Molly has them at her house. They’ve been there since . . . since we laid Julia to rest.” Aunt Ruby folded her arms together, squeezing them across her middle. “Matthew’s out with Arthur. They’re doing the plowing.”

Ellie glanced around the familiar kitchen, noticing that Ruby had set the milk to rise under the window instead of on the worktable. The pans were covered with one of Ellie’s best linen towels.

When Aunt Ruby set the cup in front of her, Ellie asked, “How long have you been here?”

“Just today? Or since the burial Saturday?”

“Both,” Ellie said, half afraid of the answer.

Her aunt slid out a chair and sat. “Two days, off and on. Today, since midmorning. Sunday, all day.”

“I don’t remember anything about Saturday afternoon or Sunday.”

“You slept. That’s all. Just slept. Best thing for you, if you ask me.” She squeezed Ellie’s hand.

Ellie lifted the cup and took a sip of broth. The hot liquid burned her lips. She blew on the surface and tried another swallow, then pushed it away. “I shouldn’t be down here like this. Someone might come.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll get dressed, and be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be here.”