Shifted By The Winds (30 page)

“Where is Faith?” he asked brusquely.

Carrie felt a rush of warmth when she recognized his protective stance. “She’s been sick.”

The boy’s eyes darkened. “She got the cholera? She gonna die?”

“No. She is not going to die. She’ll be making cookies for you again soon.”

“How come she ain’t dying?” the boy said. “Lots of people are dying.” His frown melted into quivering lips. “My daddy already died, and my brother has been throwing up all day. Mama made me leave the house.” His blue eyes were too old for the freckled face topped by rusty red hair. “Faith gonna die, too,” he said, suddenly looking exactly like the seven-year-old she guessed him to be.

Carrie moved forward and squatted down. “She is not going to die,” she repeated as she smoothed the hair away from his sorrowful, knowledgeable eyes. “And neither is your brother. I want you to take me to your home in a few minutes.” She pulled him forward. “But first I need you to do something for me while I fix Miss Biddy some food.”

She could tell the little boy didn’t believe her, but he was listening. “What do you need me to do?”

“What’s your name?”

“Paddy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Paddy. Do you know where Miss Biddy’s grandson, Arden, lives?”

“Yep.”

“Will you go to his house and tell him he needs to come help take care of Biddy?”

“Yep.”

Carrie bit back a smile when he didn’t budge. “Could you do it now?”

Paddy cocked his head, considering. “You be here when I get back? And then you’ll come make my brother better?”

“Yes,” Carrie promised, breathing a sigh of relief when Paddy instantly turned and vanished out the door. She heard pounding feet for a second, and then all was silent in the kitchen again. She finished fixing Biddy a meal of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden that Faith had carved out of the little postage stamp yard—all that was left of what had once been a magnificent farm. Then she quickly cut up potatoes and onions to join the rest of the vegetables she had prepared. The sound of Carolyn’s feet on the floor above accompanied her while she concocted a large pot of soup with some of the bottled water. Faith would need some nourishing food when she woke.

Twenty minutes passed before she heard the sound of running feet. Moments later, Arden and Paddy burst through the door.  Arden ground to a halt when he saw Carrie. “What is going on? Is Granny sick?”

“No,” Carrie said, knowing that whatever Paddy had told Arden had probably scared him to death. “And she’s not going to be.” She waited for the fear in Arden’s eyes to die away. “Faith has been extremely ill. She is going to be fine, but she won’t be able to take care of Biddy for a while, and your granny is too tired and distraught to take care of herself. I’ve made her some food, and I have a pot of soup that will be ready in an hour or so. Can you stay here and take care of her?”

Arden nodded. “Of course I will.” He paused. “Paddy said Faith had the cholera, but you said she is going to be fine…” His voice trailed away as he stared at her. “Why isn’t she dying like the rest?”

“I’ll explain later,” Carrie said. She stepped to the table, poured two glasses of water, and added the drops of camphor to both of them. “Drink this.”

Arden blinked, but did as he was told. Paddy stared at the water suspiciously.

“It won’t hurt you, Paddy. It will keep you from getting sick.” Carrie waited until he drank it, pinching his nose closed first. She almost laughed as he screwed his face with distaste. The liquid was tasteless. She turned to Arden. “I want both of you to drink three more glasses in the next hour—one every twenty minutes. Add five drops of camphor to each glass.”

Arden nodded. “I wish you had been as easy to get along with the night of the fire as I am right now.”

Carrie chuckled, glad to have the humor to lighten the atmosphere. “Me too,” she agreed. “I’m going to have Paddy show me where he lives and then he will come right back here.”

“Why do I have to come back?” Paddy demanded. “My little brother needs me,” he said, his eyes firing with protest.

“He’ll need you tomorrow after he gets some rest,” Carrie said. “And so will your mama. Right now they’re going to need the house real quiet, and they need you to not get sick.”

Paddy eyed the table. “And that stuff will keep me from getting sick?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

Carrie remembered Faith’s almost instantaneous response to the veratrum. “I promise.”

Paddy held her gaze for a long moment. “I’ll be back, Arden.” He headed for the door. “I’ll take you to my brother now.”

Janie was waiting on the front porch when Carrie finally arrived home long after dark had fallen. An almost sleepless night, followed by a very intense day, had her stumbling when she stepped down from the carriage.

Janie ran down the stairs and steadied her just as Michael leapt off his seat to take her arm. “Carrie, are you okay?”

“She’s had a long day,” Michael answered.

Carrie squeezed Janie’s hand and turned to the lanky, dark-haired man. “Thank you, Michael.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m the one to be thanking you, Mrs. Borden. If not for you, my sister and nephew would probably be dying in that hospital right now.” He tipped his hat. “You ever need anything at all, you just let me know,” he said.

“I’m just glad they’re going to be okay,” Carrie murmured.

Michael looked at her closely. “You sure you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning? You look like you need some rest.”

Carrie nodded. “Absolutely. There is still so much to be done.” She pushed away the images filling her mind, knowing there was nothing else she could do until she had some rest and food.

“I have dinner waiting for you,” Janie said as they walked slowly up the stairs.

Matthew appeared at the door, his eyes darkening with concern when he saw Carrie, but he said nothing as he stepped back to let them enter. “I guess I really do have to share my soup with her, don’t I?”

Carrie managed a smile, so very glad to be home. She wouldn’t have traded the day she had just had for anything, but she was aware she had nothing left to give. The sight of Matthew and Janie’s faces filled her with warm gratitude.

Thirty minutes later, she could feel life ebbing back in. She pushed away the remnants of her third bowl of thick soup but continued to nibble on bread slathered with the apple butter Alice had made a few days earlier. She grasped the hot cup of tea Janie shoved toward her and finally leaned back in her chair.

“Long day?” Janie asked.

Carrie nodded. They had let her eat in silence. Now she felt ready to form words. “Yes,” she agreed, “but it was also one of the best days of my entire life.”

Janie’s eyes widened. “Do you have enough energy to tell us about it?”

“No,” Carrie admitted, “but I will tell you nothing is more satisfying than knowing I have the power to heal people of a disease that is killing thousands all over the city, and even more across the country.”

“The cholera?” Janie breathed. “The remedy worked?”

Carrie closed her eyes for a moment. “Like a miracle,” she replied. “So many were sick…” She told Janie and Matthew about Faith. “She is still weak, but she was eating soup when I left, and looks almost back to normal.” She shook her head. “I was sure she was going to die when I saw her vomiting into the bucket.” Shuddering, she pushed the thought from her mind. “A few drops of veratrum gave her back her life.”

“We saw Sarah’s herbal medicines bring people back, too,” Janie said. “What makes this so different?”

“I don’t know that I can explain it yet,” Carrie confessed, realizing she was too exhausted to make the effort.  She just wanted to enjoy the company of her friends. She and Carolyn had administered camphor to hundreds who were just beginning to feel ill, leaving bottles of remedy with each family. Michael had made two more trips to the dispensary, where they were formulating remedy as fast as they could. Biddy had insisted on paying for every drop of it, placing an order for as much as the dispensary could create. They had treated at least thirty patients who were as gravely ill as Faith had been. Each of them had responded to the veratrum. Carrie had enlisted the help of neighborhood women to cook up huge vats of soup that would be delivered to everyone that was ill. Men had been sent to bring back jugs and bottles of water from areas of Philadelphia protected by the sanitation system. There was still a lot of work to be done, but she knew she had made a difference.

She smiled at Janie and Matthew. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now I want to be distracted by something else. I have been so immersed in study that I realized at some point on the way home that I know absolutely nothing about what is going on in the world.” She fixed her gaze on Matthew. “I’m betting you can fix that for me.”

Matthew watched her for a long moment. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he gave her an easy grin. “You’ve come to the right place,” he assured her.

Janie stood and moved toward the icebox. “Do you have room for some more food?”

“Only if it is some of Alice’s apple pie,” Carrie answered. “How does that woman find time to bake apple pies and make apple butter?” she asked with a frown.

“Not everyone spends fourteen hours a day in class or with their nose in a book,” Janie retorted as she placed an apple pie on the table.

Carrie stared at it, suddenly hungry again as Janie cut through the flaky crust, releasing the aroma of apples and cinnamon into the kitchen.

“Can
you
make pie like this, Janie?” Matthew asked as he stared at the piece she cut and laid on his plate.

Janie laughed. “Will
you
be able to afford a cook for us when you’re a wealthy writer?”

“Does that mean the answer is no?”

Carrie laughed at the morose sound in his voice. “Men are pathetic. Why should Janie be the one to make the pie?”

Matthew cocked his head and eyed her thoughtfully. “You have a point. My mama always made the pies in our house, but the world is changing so fast I suppose this is another thing that could change.” He glanced toward the ceiling. “Do you think Alice will teach me?” he asked with a sigh.

“Oh, fine,” Janie said, only her twitching lips giving her away. “Make me feel guilty. I tell you what. We’ll have Alice teach both of us. Between the two of us, we should be able to make sure there is some kind of pie around for what will be our otherwise neglected children.”

“Children? I simply want pie around for the aspiring author. I’m quite sure I will write better if I have constant access to a delicious pie.  I understand it stimulates the brain cells.”

“Or you’ll just become so huge you won’t be able to move from behind your desk,” Janie quipped.

Matthew nodded. “At least that means I will get a lot of writing done.”

Carrie laughed, more of the fatigue melting away as the warmth of the kitchen and the easy banter of her friends restored her. “Enough! Are you going to tell me what is going on or not?”

Matthew nodded, his smile tightening. “It’s not all good,” he warned.

“I quit hoping for
all good
years ago,” Carrie responded. “I’ll just settle for the truth.”

“The good news is that President Johnson’s tenure is as good as dead,” Matthew began.

Carrie pushed her thoughts past her fatigue. “His ‘Swing Around the Circle’ campaign did not go well?”

“That would be putting it mildly,” Matthew said. “A more appropriate word would be disastrous. It’s been about two weeks since it concluded. The repercussions have grown stronger as the news has reported over and over again how damaging it was. Our president believed he could regain the trust of moderate Republicans by exploiting tensions between them and their radical counterparts on the tour.”