Brides of Alaska (31 page)

“Gerry's hot,” Phillip said, planting a kiss on his mother's cheek.

“I'm sure he's fine. Let's go see,” Beth whispered and shifted Phillip from one hip to the other. His legs draped down the side of her body, reminding Beth that he was quickly passing out of babyhood.

“Gerry,” Beth said as she put Phillip on the floor beside the bed and took a seat by her sleeping son. She reached out and brushed back the sandy brown hair that had fallen across Gerald's forehead.

His skin was hot and dry, a sure sign of fever. “Gerry, wake up, honey.” Beth shook her son gently.

“Mommy,” Gerald moaned and opened fever-glazed eyes. “I hurt, Mommy. My head hurts real bad.”

“You have a fever,” Beth soothed, checking her son for any other symptoms. There weren't any spots to indicate measles or smallpox, and his body seemed free from any swelling or rashes.

“I'll get you an aspirin and a cool towel. You just rest, Gerry. Phillip and I will take care of you.” Beth's calm voice masked the dread in her heart.

Beth carried Phillip from the room, speaking as she made her way to the kitchen. “We'll get Gerry some medicine and then he'll feel better.” Phillip nodded as Beth hurried to get the aspirin.

Beth put Phillip down and rummaged through the cupboards until she found a small bottle of aspirins. Putting the medicine in her pocket, Beth then poured a glass of water.

“Me thirsty,” Phillip declared as Beth picked up the glass.

“I'm sorry, sweetie. Here, have a drink and then we'll take a drink for your brother.” Beth waited impatiently as Phillip satisfied his thirst. Then, after refilling the glass, she returned to Gerald's bed and gently lifted his head to swallow the tablet.

“Ouchy, ouchy, Mommy. It hurts,” Gerald cried, recoiling from her touch.

Phillip had padded down the hall to find his mother bent over Gerald. “He sick, Momma?”

“Yes,” Beth whispered. “Your brother is very sick.”

“The light hurts my head, Mommy. Please turn off the light,” Gerald cried softly.

Beth shook her head. Fever usually caused some pain, but never this much. Something was very wrong. She pulled the heavy curtains across the windows and turned back to face the situation.

“Phillip, I need you to stay here with Gerry while I go get the doctor. Can you do that for me?” she asked the tiny boy.

“I take care of Gerry,” Phillip said as he planted himself firmly beside his brother.

“Good boy,” Beth said. “Now, it's really important that you stay right here and that you don't get off the bed. Do you understand?”

“I be good, Mommy,” Phillip said gravely. “I pray for brother.”

“That would be good,” Beth agreed. “I'm going to go change my clothes, and I'll check in before I go. I'll be right back.”

Beth hurried around her bedroom, mindlessly choosing her gardening slacks and one of JB's old shirts. She quickly tied her blond hair back into a ponytail and made her way down the hall to the boys' room.

A light touch to Gerald's forehead confirmed her fears. The fever was rising. “Phillip, I have to go now. When I come back, I'll fix you a special, big-boy breakfast. Would you like that?”

“Can I have applesauce?” Phillip asked, requesting his favorite food.

“You be a good boy, and you can have whatever you like,” Beth replied. “I'll be back in a jiffy.”

She hurried down the hall, dreading the desertion of her children. She pulled on socks and boots to wade through the muddy roads of the rain-drenched community, and after one final peek at the boys, she rushed from the roadhouse and ran all the way into town.

Beth marveled at the transformation of her small town. The landscape literally became a sea of tents as the army continued to bring in men and supplies. She picked her way through the mud while soldiers whistled or waved in appreciation of a feminine form. The attention made Beth nervous, but she ignored it. Gerald's restless form filled her mind.

She breathed a sigh of relief upon finally reaching the doctor's office. Pushing open the door and mindless of the mud she tracked into the office, Beth made her way to where a nurse sat writing in a ledger.

“I need to see the doctor,” Beth said breathlessly.

“What seems to be your ailment, Miss …?” the nurse fell silent waiting for Beth to fill in her name.

“Mrs. Beth Hogan,” she offered impatiently, “and it's not for me, it's my son. He has a high fever.”

“The doctor isn't here right now, but I can send him over as soon as he returns,” the nurse replied.

Beth's brow furrowed as she bit her lower lip. “I suppose I'll have to wait then. Do you have any idea how long it might be?”

“Don't worry,” the nurse answered sympathetically, “the doctor is setting an arm on the other side of town. He won't be much longer, and I'll send him right on to you. Now, why don't you tell me everything about your son's illness, and I'll pass the information to the doctor.”

“He just woke up with a fever. I didn't bother to take his temperature, but I'm certain it's already very high, and it's climbing.”

“Anything else?” the nurse questioned as she jotted the information down.

“He says his head hurts and his eyes are very sensitive to light,” Beth replied and added in a near sob, “He's only five.”

“Try not to worry, Mrs. Hogan. Tell me where I can send the doctor when he returns.”

“I run the Gantry Roadhouse east of town. Just follow the road, and our place is a quarter mile past the crossroads,” Beth directed in a trembling voice.

“All right, Mrs. Hogan. You go on back home and I'll do what I can. And, Mrs. Hogan,” the nurse paused, “please try not to worry. Give your son some aspirin and wash him with a cool cloth.”

Beth nodded and made her way back toward home. She'd never run as much as she had this day, and by the time she reached the roadhouse, she was winded and every muscle in her legs ached.

Kicking off her muddy boots and slamming the door behind her, Beth raced to Gerald's bedside. Phillip sat faithfully beside his older brother, wiping the cloth over his forehead.

“What a good boy you are, Phillip,” Beth said as she reached down and felt Gerald's brow. He felt as hot as ever, and Beth noticed that he didn't even stir at her touch.

“Come along, Phillip. I'll get you dressed and fix you applesauce pancakes.”

“Yummy,” Phillip said as he jumped down from the bed. “I took care of brother,” he stated simply.

“Yes, you certainly did,” Beth replied and helped Phillip off with his nightshirt. She replaced the gown with a shirt and pants and led him to the kitchen.

Beth hastily prepared breakfast between trips to the boys' bedroom. She alternated swabbing Gerald's fiery body and flipping pancakes. She had just placed a plate of pancakes and applesauce in front of Phillip when a knock sounded at the door.

“You stay here and eat. I'm certain that will be the doctor, and I'll have to talk to him about Gerry,” Beth said as she left the room.

The doctor stood at the door, and Beth breathed a sigh of relief as she took his coat and showed him to Gerald's room.

“My name is Dr. Stevens,” the man said as he began to examine Gerald. “My nurse tells me the boy's symptoms just started.”

“Yes,” Beth affirmed. “He was fine yesterday, although I do recall he seemed a little tired.”

The doctor forced Gerald to sit, causing the boy to cry out in pain. Beth knelt by his side.

“It's all right, Gerry. Momma's here.”

“It hurts real bad, Mommy,” Gerald managed between his cries.

“Son, can you bend your neck as if you were going to look down your nightshirt?” the doctor questioned.

Gerald made a valiant effort, but it only caused more pain. “No, no. It hurts,” he whimpered. Tears formed in Beth's eyes as she watched her child suffer.

“It's all right, son. I'm a doctor, and I'm going to help you.”

Gerald said nothing as the doctor eased him back on the bed. The boy reached out for his mother, and Beth immediately took hold of his hand. She waited in silence while the doctor finished his examination and took Gerald's temperature.

“You just rest now, son. I'm going into the hall with your mother so we can figure out how to make you feel better.” The doctor finished putting his instruments into his black bag and motioned Beth to follow him.

Beth knew by the look on the doctor's face that the news would not be good. She felt her knees weaken as she pulled the bedroom door closed behind them.

“I'm afraid your son has all the signs of spinal meningitis,” Dr. Stevens began. “I can't be certain without running a number of tests, including a complicated procedure called a spinal tap. I don't have the facilities in town to help your boy.”

“What is spinal meningitis?” Beth asked anxiously.

“It's an infection that attacks the membrane surrounding the brain and spine. I'm afraid it's often fatal.”

“What am I to do?” Beth questioned frantically. “He has to have help. I don't care what it costs or where we have to go.”

“I know. I know,” the doctor said as he put his arm around Beth. “What we have to do is get your son to a good hospital.”

“But how and where?” Beth asked.

“My suggestion would be Fairbanks. I happen to know there's a supply plane headed there in two hours. I believe we should have your son on that plane.”

“Then he'll be there,” Beth said, regaining a bit of her composure. “I'll get him ready. Just tell me what to do.”

“We'll need to keep him from getting chilled, so bring his blankets. I'll get my nurse to accompany you on the trip. She'll know what to do.”

“What about Phillip?” Beth questioned. “He's my younger, and he shares a room with his brother.” Fear reverberated in every word.

“He should be fine,” the doctor replied, placing a hand on Beth's arm. “We don't quarantine for meningitis because there is no conclusive information about the risk of contagion.”

Beth felt only minor relief at the doctor's words. “I'll need to get word to Mrs. Hazel Miller on Second Street. She'll need to come and stay with Phillip. I'm afraid I don't have a telephone. Could you send word to her when you get back into town?” Beth asked hopefully.

“I'd be happy to. I'll also get a couple of soldiers to drive you and your son to the airport. Just wait here until they arrive,” the doctor instructed.

“I'll be ready.”

An hour later, Beth waved a hesitant good-bye to Phillip and Mrs. Miller. The soldiers showed up as promised, and with them came the nurse who'd assisted Beth at the doctor's office. The woman literally took over and left Beth with nothing to do but look on in helpless frustration.

The drive to the airstrip was a short one, but to Beth, every minute smothered her in apprehension. The soldiers pulled up next to the transport plane and within moments had moved Gerald and the nurse to the stripped-out fuselage of a Lockheed Vega.

Beth's worried look caught the attention of the pilot. “Don't worry, ma'am. We'll have your boy to Fairbanks in less than two hours.”

Beth offered the man a fleeting smile. “Thank you. I know you'll do your best.” She allowed him to help her up into the plane, her mind filled with only one thought.

“Dear God,” Beth breathed against the drone of the airplane's radial engine, “please help my son. Please heal my baby.”

A
ugust rotated his shoulder gingerly and waited for any indication of pain. When none came, he smiled. Finally, he was able to move with nearly the same mobility he'd had before the accident.

He offered a wave to the pilot who'd just landed him at the Northway airstrip, then went in search of the Public Roads office and his boss.

Several minutes later, August was sitting beside the cluttered desk that Ralph Greening continued to work from whenever in Northway.

“Catching up on paperwork is worse than dealing with the dirt, rain, and mosquitoes,” Ralph griped. “I just got back from our old camp. You certainly gave us a scare,” he added, offering August a cup of coffee. “This stuff's getting mighty hard to come by up here, so don't ever say no when somebody offers you a free cup,” he teased.

August took the coffee and lifted the mug slightly. “To your health!”

Ralph laughed and joined him in the salute. “And to yours!”

The coffee tasted stale and was only lukewarm, but August didn't care. He was finally going to see Beth again, and he was anxious to complete his work with Ralph.

“Doc says I can go back to work, but nothing too strenuous,” August said with a grin. “Whatever that means.”

“It might mean that you're not to be dumping caterpillars over the edge of muddy embankments again.” At this both men laughed.

“Yeah, I suppose that's what he meant,” August agreed and continued. “Anyhow, the way I see it, it's all up to you. You just tell me where to report, and I'll take care of getting there.”

Ralph nodded, but then the thought of Bethany Hogan's hasty retreat from Northway came to mind. He'd only learned of her troubles that morning. His frown and knitted brows caused August to put his coffee mug down.

“What is it? What's wrong?” August asked.

“I went to see Mrs. Hogan today. You know, I wanted to tell her about your accident. I already felt bad that so much time had passed since you were flown to Anchorage, but I had no way of getting back here to tell her,” Ralph said apologetically.

“I understand, Ralph, and I'm sure that Beth did,” August offered.

“No, she wasn't there,” Ralph said with a shake of his head. “Mrs. Hogan had one of her boys take sick. He was pretty bad, and they had to get him to a hospital. They flew out a couple days ago. I think they took him to Fairbanks.”