The River Rose (35 page)

They all pulled up boxes and sat down, grinning and sighing with relief. Except for Clint, who crossed his arms and looked thoughtful. "How's Jeanne?" he asked.

"She's not doing too well, and I'm afraid I didn't help her much. I guess I need to tell you all, too, it seems like you're like family. But first, Miss Marvel wants Leo to come keep her company for awhile."

Roberty jumped up eagerly, but Eames went on, "Sorry, Roberty, but Marvel still may be contagious, so you can't see her for another day or two. Better let me take him up."

"Maybe I could," Clint said hesitantly, looking at Eames with pleading dark eyes. "I've had yellow fever, and so I couldn't catch it again."

"I'm sorry," Eames said helplessly. "It'll just be better if I take him."

Clint nodded and sank down on a crate, his head between his hands. Eames took Leo upstairs and returned quickly. Then he told them what he'd told Jeanne.

"Yeah, I knew this," Clint said hollowly. "I've seen it. But chances are she's over it, right?"

"I'm praying that she is," he answered. "We all need to keep praying for her. And for Jeanne, too. Jeanne is suffering just as much, and I think even more, than Marvel."

VINCE
,
ROBERTY
,
AND CLINT were all sitting in their camp, a small level piece of ground on the wide slope up to the Eames house. It was situated just a few feet from the starboard side of the
Helena Rose
, and though they hadn't said it aloud, they all knew that through the open windows of Jeanne's cabin they could hear if she called. From the first day they docked, Ezra flatly refused to cook anything in the galley. "That there stove is sitiated right down by Marvel's head, and it's hot enough as 'tis, she don't need no quick hot cookin' fire just on t'other side of the wall. And she don't need no cookin' smells, neither, nor me a-banging around in there."

Ezra had gotten all the pots and skillets and utensils they needed, and they had been cooking over a campfire. They hadn't had to cook much, though, for Dr. Eames' family—and they had learned that there were over thirty Eames, Franklins, and Greenes living on the Eames place—sent them enough food every day to feed them twice over. But now Ezra was in the galley, cooking up about half a dozen things he'd thought of that Marvel might like to eat.

In the last three days Ezra had scoured the boilers and furnaces three times. Vince and Clint had worked in the engine room, oiling and tightening and testing all the parts, some of them several times. Roberty had painted all of the red trim on the boat except for the paddle wheel. Dr. Eames had brought a tall ladder, and he had climbed up twenty feet to paint the smokestacks, though the men had cringed at the sight.

Clint said dully, "I think I'm going to paint Marvel's dollhouse and the furniture."

Vince sighed. "At least we don't have to take the engine apart again. That's really boring, Clint."

"Why don't you let me paint them, Clint?" Roberty pleaded. "I didn't get to make anything for it, and I want to do something for Marvel. I need to."

"Yeah, I know," Clint said. "Okay, you paint, then." Roberty got up and ran to the boat.

"So what do you wanna do, Clint?" Vince asked. "How about we go fishing? Dr. Eames said just around the bend there is a real good little cove with lots of minnows in the shallows and bream and bass and catfish."

"No, you go, Vinnie."

"No, the point is that I'm trying to get you to go. I'm trying to get you to do anything. You've been sitting around like a stump, Clint, just staring into space. You don't talk, you don't listen, it's like you're not even here."

"I'm here," he said listlessly. "I just don't have anything to say, and I don't care what anyone else says either."

Never in his life had Vince gotten angry with Clint, but now he was. "You're acting like a selfish little kid. What's the matter with you? Marvel's better, she may be just fine! And even if she's not, then we need to be strong and acting like
men
! I know you think Jeanne hates you, and maybe she does
right now
. But I know that she really cares for you, you big stupid ninny! No matter what happens, she'll remember that one day. So you just quit sulking and get yourself out of that hole you dug and threw yourself into!"

A humorless half-smile twitched at the corner of Clint's lips. "Okay, okay, Vinnie, don't blow a gasket. You want to go fishing? Let's go fishing. But first I want to tell Ezra where we're going. I want to make sure they can find us if . . . if Marvel needs me."

BY TWO O
'
CLOCK IN the afternoon Marvel was able to sit up in the armchair, with her legs propped on three pillows that Jeanne put down for her. She had a light quilt over her, for though the day was a typical hot August day, she felt a little cool. Jeanne constantly checked her, and it wasn't because she had fever. Dr. Eames said it was just because she was so weak and her blood was so thin.

Jeanne set an enormous plate of steaming macaroni on the cherry side table by Marvel's chair. Leo immediately sat up and rested his chin on Marvel's lap. "Ezra says if you eat enough macaroni you get fat," she told Marvel with amusement. "So he'll be disappointed day after tomorrow if you're not a chubby little girl."

"I prob'ly will be, if I keep eating like today," Marvel answered. "Ezra's made me so much stuff I think he forgot the whole crew's not eating it." Ezra had made fresh bread, had sliced mild yellow cheese thin and had cut the slices into funny little shapes, had made mashed potatoes, chicken broth, oatmeal, a cherry ice, fresh warm applesauce, and baked pears stuffed with raisins. Marvel was able to eat a few bites at a time, and she had eaten some of everything. Now she took three or four bites of the macaroni and sighed.

"It's all right, darling, I was just teasing you," Jeanne said. "You eat what you can eat, but don't make yourself if you don't want it."

"Okay. Um . . ." she petted Leo's head and looked hopefully at Jeanne.

"You might as well give it to him," Jeanne said resignedly. "He's already sleeping in our bed and sitting in our chairs. I guess when we start eating at the dining table again, he can join us there, too."

Marvel set the bowl down and Leo began to eat. He was a very polite eater, he never wolfed down his food. His long snaky tail began going in the funny lopsided circles that moved his whole rump. Marvel giggled a little. Her voice had grown stronger, though it was still weak. She glanced up at Jeanne, who was watching Leo with a blank expression. "Mama? Is something wrong?" Marvel asked.

"No, no, of course not. I guess I'm just tired."

Marvel nodded. "I know, I don't remember much about while I was so sick, but I remember you were always awake, it seemed like. I know you were worried about me, Mama, but I'm better now."

"Yes, you are, and I'm so thankful, Marvel. I'll be better, I promise. Would you like to play with Mrs. Topp and Avaymaria?"

"Yes, ma'am, but first may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Marvel cocked her head a little and looked troubled. "You said you're thankful, Mama, but we didn't have a thank-you prayer. We always have thank-you prayers for everything. I've said thank you to Jesus, but not out loud, like we usually do."

Jeanne flew to kneel by her chair. "Oh, Marvel, I'm so sorry. Of course I'm thankful to the Lord. I guess—I guess I've just been so worried about you that I'm not really thinking straight. Let's pray right now."

Marvel bowed her head and closed her eyes and began thanking Jesus for everything she could think of. Jeanne bowed her head, too, and closed her eyes, but when she heard Marvel say, "Thank you that I'm all well now, God," her eyes opened to narrow slits. She had lied. She wasn't thankful to God at all. All day she had tried to believe that Marvel was healed, but she didn't. As soon as Dr. Eames had told her about the course of yellow fever, Jeanne had gotten so fearful that she had gotten nauseated. Throughout the day that fear grew and grew, and crushed any hope she might have had. Now she was so deathly afraid that Marvel was going to get sicker and then die that it had become almost a certainty. All day desperately she tried to act with Marvel as if she was recovering, and she had done fairly well; but she didn't believe it at all.

All she believed was that Marvel would die. And she knew that it was because God was punishing her, Jeanne, for her carelessness and selfishness. Why else would He do this to Marvel? It was the only thing that made any sense.

And by this time Jeanne herself might have been dead, because she just didn't care.

MARVEL GOT TIRED JUST about dark, and Jeanne put her to bed. Leo lay beside her, looking up at Jeanne with his hangdog pleading eyes, and Jeanne allowed him to stay, patting him on the head and grumbling. Marvel said sleepily, "Thank you, Mama. G'night."

"Good night, my darling," Jeanne said, and kissed her on the cheek.

She sat down in the armchair by the bed and watched Marvel as she dropped off into a peaceful sleep. Her expression was very different from when Marvel had been awake. As soon as Marvel had closed her eyes, Jeanne's face, as if someone had slapped her, grew tight and tense, her eyes as empty as bottomless wells. Even Leo seemed to notice, for he looked at Jeanne for a while. Jeanne whispered, almost a hiss, "Go to sleep, Leo." His tail thumped twice, then he laid down, ludicrously on a pillow just by Marvel's head.

Jeanne sat and watched. Marvel slept. Leo slept. Jeanne's whole body was so tense she ached frightfully everywhere. As the hours wore on, her temples began to throb. Soon she had an agonizing headache. Even the low light from the single lantern on the table by her chair hurt her eyes, so she closed them.

She jerked painfully and tried to look around, but she was in darkness. Leo was whining, a soft low cry that almost sounded like a child. She realized that she had fallen asleep, and the lantern had gone out. Jeanne jumped up and felt her way to her desk, grabbed the lantern, and lit it, then hurried back to the bed. Leo jumped down and was staring at Marvel, keeping up his soft keening. Jeanne thought that Marvel was the same, for she looked as if she were still asleep. But then Jeanne saw the sheen of sweat on her forehead and that her nightdress was soaked.

At that moment Marvel started convulsing.

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