The Measure of a Heart (21 page)

As soon as Anna was back on her feet, she asked Austin to drive her out to the Lawes.

“Isn’t it a bit early for you to be traveling?” he worried.

“I must see how Mandy’s doing,” Anna responded, feeling sorry about leaving the woman on her own for so long.

Austin finally conceded. But he drove the mare extra carefully.

Mandy Lawes seemed very glad to see Anna. She beamed her pleasure, then suddenly drew back. Her face turned pale, but she still held her smile and motioned Anna with her small bundle into her kitchen.

“I’ve meant to come to see your new baby ever since I heard about her birth,” she said, and then added softly, “but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I—I wasn’t sure how—I mean—what—my feelings would be. About a baby.”

“I understand,” said Anna, wishing she had given the trip more thought.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Would you—would you like me to just—go?” she asked candidly.

“No. No. I must face it—sometime. It might as well be now,” Mandy Lawes said bravely, then surprised Anna by adding, “Here—let me hold her.”

Anna put small Maggie in the arms of the mother who was still grieving the loss of her own child and watched helplessly as the tears flowed down the young woman’s cheeks.

This is a terrible mistake, Anna told herself. A—a knowledgeable person—Mrs. Angus—would have never made such a blunder.

“I’m so sorry,” she tried to say and went to take her daughter back.

“No. No,” said Mandy, clinging to the baby. “I—I need to cry. Just—please—just let me be for a few minutes.”

Anna turned and left the kitchen.

Austin was just coming up the walk after tethering the mare. His eyes raised to Anna’s in question and she dipped her head, feeling shamed by her error in judgment.

“Isn’t she home?” Austin asked her.

Anna nodded her head, tears tracing little streams down her cheeks. She lifted a hand to wipe them away.

“What is it?’ he asked, reaching out to take her hand.

“She—she asked me to leave her a moment—with—with Maggie. Oh, Austin, she is in there crying her heart out. I never should have come. I should have thought. The pain is still too fresh—too deep—for her to look at another baby.”

Anna buried her face against her husband’s shoulder and shook with her sobs.

He let her cry, patting her shoulder, squeezing her arm. When she was finished, she stepped back and looked up at him.

“I’m so sorry. I suppose they’ll never come to church now. It’s all my fault.”

“Nonsense,” said Austin, offering his handkerchief. “If they don’t come to church, it has nothing to do with this. You’ve offered your love and friendship over and over, in every way you have known how.”

He waited for her to wipe her nose.

“One never knows how a person will respond in grief—or what will bring healing. Perhaps baby Maggie is a better counselor than either of us could ever be.”

Anna looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Holding that little bundle might be the best thing that could happen to Mrs. Lawes,” went on Austin. “There are more than one kind of tears. Let’s pray these are tears of healing.”

They bowed their heads, standing together on the front walk, their hearts and hands twined closely. They had just said their “Amens” and Anna given her nose one more blow when they heard the door behind them open.

Mandy Lawes was still clutching tightly to Maggie, but the tears had been wiped away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her lips still trembling. “Please come in. I—I think that I am ready for company now.”

The Lawes joined the little congregation the next Sunday.

“We have put it off for far too long,” said Cal. “These kids need some religious training.” And then he added, almost under his breath, “And we need some faith to live by.”

One of the nice “extras” the new church offered was that they were able to make Austin an office in a small back room, and Anna was able to have her whole sitting room as living area. They needed the extra space. It was the only place that they could fit a small bed for Maggie.

Anna couldn’t believe how quickly the baby grew. She was hard put to keep her in little garments. But each time the new mother was about to be smothered by desperation, there was another little miracle—and Maggie was clothed.

Washings, though, were not easy for Anna. With so few clothes for the baby, she had to wash almost every day of the week. She kept a tub of water on hand behind the kitchen stove and washed diaper by diaper as they were used. Then she hung them on the line and prayed that one of them would be dry by the time she needed it.

It was a difficult way to do her laundry, but Anna did not complain. She was thankful to have diapers at all.

But her hands became red and her knuckles rough from her scrub board.

I wish I had some lard to rub into them, she often thought and was glad she had gloves to wear on Sundays.

Chapter Eighteen

Another Summer

When the noise from the play lot picked up in volume, Anna felt that summer had really arrived. Once school was out the children had more free time so made good use of the play area. Anna sometimes stood at her bedroom window and watched the sand-lot ball game.

It was about a week into July before she realized that Ben Cross was missing. It was strange. Ben loved playing ball.

She picked up young Maggie and made her way out to the playground.

As soon as there was a break in the action, she motioned Tommy over.

“Where is Ben?” she asked the boy.

“He’s sick,” answered Tommy and was about to run back out on the field.

“How sick?” called Anna.

Tommy turned and flung back over his shoulder, “Don’t know. Haven’t seen ’im.”

Anna scanned the field for Sid, Ben’s younger brother. He was playing right field.

I’ll just wait and ask him, she thought and found a place to sit on a patch of grass.

We should have checked on them, she scolded herself. Neither of them has been to Sunday school for several Sundays.

But the boys’ attendance had always been sporadic at best. How would one guess that illness might be keeping them at home?

When Sid came near to wait for his turn at bat, Anna called to him and he hastened to answer her bidding.

“I hear your brother Ben is sick,” said Anna.

He nodded, his tangled hair bouncing.

“How long has he been ill?” she pressed him.

“Long time,” he said with a shrug.

“What’s the matter?”

“We don’t know.”

“Has the doctor seen him?”

Sid shook his head. “Pa don’t put no stock in doctors,” he replied and Anna cringed.

“Can you tell me a little bit about his illness?” asked Anna.

Sid looked blank. “He’s just sick,” he answered.

“Sick how? Does he have a rash? Is he vomiting? Does he have a fever?”

Sid seemed to be thinking about it. “He don’t got a rash,” he answered. “An’ I don’t think he vomits. He just throws up and can’t eat.”

Anna nodded, a smile curving her lips in spite of her concern.

It was Sid’s turn to bat. Anna let the boy go. She hoisted Maggie onto her hip and started back to her kitchen.

Once there she deposited the baby on the floor and began searching through her cupboards. There wasn’t much there. Maybe enough for a nourishing eggnog. She went to work.

As soon as she had prepared the drink, she put her bonnet in place, tied a hat on small Maggie, and set out.

It didn’t take long to reach the Crosses. Anna had never been there before. She worried about the dog as she neared the place. The animal had a reputation for meanness. Perhaps she should have left the baby with her father at the church study. But Mr. Cross was seated on the rickety porch and with one word from him, the growling dog lay back down.

“I heard that Ben is sick,” Anna said before the man had a chance to ask her errand. The burly man just nodded. Anna’s eyes took in the sullen face, the arms and shoulders muscled from heavy work, the large calloused hands.

Mr. Cross was known as the hardest worker in the town. He ran the local livery and cartage service—and drove his teams almost as hard as he drove himself. He was so busy “earning” and “squirreling it away” according to some that he had no time for friends or family. Anna marveled that she had found him on his front porch, seemingly doing nothing.

“I’ve brought Ben a bit of eggnog,” she said simply. “Sid said that he has been having trouble eating.”

The man nodded again.

“May I see him?” Anna asked.

“He’s in there,” the man nodded over his shoulder, and Anna accepted that as his permission.

She moved toward the door and was about to enter when she thought of her baby girl. What if the illness was contagious? Surely she should have left Maggie with her father. Now what could she do?

For one brief second she hesitated and then she surprised both herself and the man who sat before her. “Would you mind holding my baby?” she asked simply. “It might be wiser not to take her into the sickroom.”

For a moment the man stared, his expression saying that no one had ever entrusted a baby to him before. Him with his work-dirtied hands and gruff manner. Him with his violent temper and foul mouth. What was she thinking of—passing the small child in her unrumpled, spotless dress to him?

Dumbly he reached out his hands to accept the baby.

“Thank you,” said Anna with a sweet smile and moved through the door with her container of eggnog.

A woman rocked listlessly in a corner. Anna could hear the low groan of the floor as the rocker moved slowly back and forth. On a cot against the wall lay Ben. Anna could hardly recognize the boy. His face was flushed, his eyes hollow, and he looked as if he had lost several pounds.

“I heard that Ben is ill,” Anna said to the woman in explanation.

The woman nodded. She looked fatigued.

“I’ve brought some eggnog,” said Anna.

The woman’s eyes showed surprise but she did not stir.

“Do you have a cup?” asked Anna.

Without a word the woman roused herself and went to the kitchen. She came back with a cup, wiping it on a tea towel as she came. Anna could read the words “Robin Hood” imprinted on the towel.

Anna accepted the cup and knelt beside the sick boy. “Ben,” she coaxed him. “Ben. It’s Mrs. Barker. Can you hear me, Ben?”

He stirred ever so slightly.

“I’ve brought you something to drink,” went on Anna. “Can you try to swallow for me? Come on . . . just a little. Here, try a sip. Good boy. Another.”

A tongue came out and licked the dry lips. Anna was encouraged. “Another,” she coaxed. “That’s good.”

He wasn’t able to finish the drink but Anna was pleased with his attempt. The mother who hovered near her elbow spoke for the first time. “That’s the first he’s taken in two days.”

“I’ll leave the rest,” said Anna. “You can try to give him a bit later on.”

The woman nodded.

“I’ll try to get some eggs and milk so I can bring more later. If we can just get him to take some nourishment . . .” Anna let the statement trail off.

“Do you have a cloth and some cool water?” Anna continued, and the woman went back to her kitchen. A little later Anna heard the pump in the backyard.

It wasn’t long until Mrs. Cross was back at Anna’s side. “Here,” she said as she passed Anna a piece of an old towel and a basin filled with the water.

Anna took the rag and dipped it in the water. It was fresh and cool. She began to bath the face and arms of the young boy.

“This will help to get his fever down,” she explained to the woman. “You can do this every hour or so. It will help him to feel better, too.”

The mother nodded. Anna was sure that she had previously given up.

Ben stirred as the cool cloth passed again and again over his fevered face.

“There you are, Ben,” said Anna. “That should make you feel better,” and Anna dipped the cloth into the basin once more just as she heard giggles from the front porch. Apparently the big man was entertaining young Maggie.

“You look tired,” said Anna, turning her attention to the woman.

Mrs. Cross nodded. “It’s been almost a week of little sleep,” she admitted. “I’m almost done in.”