Embers of Love (12 page)

“No, I didn’t love him. He was everything I knew my mother would hate. He was overbearing and particular about what I could do and where I should go. He was quite opinionated about politics and deeply resented the women’s movement. Oh, he was charming, but I knew he only wanted to marry me because of my appearance and what it would mean to his political career.”

G. W. shook his head. “Seems like he owns as much shame for that weddin’ as you.”

“I suppose so. But my own guilt keeps me from thinking about his responsibility in the matter.”

“A man ought not act in such a way.”

“Neither should a woman.” Lizzie looked up rather hesitantly. “I let the wounds of the past keep me from good judgment. I don’t intend to make that mistake again.”

He was about to comment when Rob came flying out the front door calling his name.

“I’m right here. You don’t have to be yellin’.” He got to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

Rob turned abruptly, nearly falling off the porch. “Well, I didn’t see you there. Nothin’ wrong. Uncle Arjan sent me to fetch you. He wants to go over some plans for tomorra.”

Lizzie stood. “I should go inside anyway. I’m afraid the mosquitoes are having quite a feast on me.”

G. W. nodded, regretful that their conversation should end so soon. “Thank you for speakin’ with me.”

She smiled, then turned to head into the house. “Any time, G. W.”

He felt awash in pure joy at the sound of his name on her lips. Feeling just a little taller, he punched Rob on the arm and grinned. “You heard her. Any time.”

C
HAPTER
10

A
UGUST
1885

After being in Perkinsville for almost two months, strolling among the houses and people as he was doing just now, Christopher Clayton had come to an understanding of why the community had lost so many women to childbed fever. The answer was quite simple: Margaret Foster. The woman was the driving force behind healing and medicinal treatments, yet she had no use for soap and water or any other means of fighting bacteria. She went from patient to patient without ever washing her hands, much less her instruments. She was passionate about her cures and tonics, but again, he doubted they were prepared with cleanliness in mind.

He had tried to approach the woman, hoping to explain and offer at least some small bit of advice to combat the dangerous situation. “You know, they are making great strides in medicine,” Christopher said one morning after coming face-to-face with the midwife at the commissary. “With the discovery of various bacteria and how they cause illness, we’ve learned that keeping our hands and instruments clean is of the utmost importance.”

Margaret Foster’s lips curled into what could only be described as a snarl to reply, “I ain’t got no use for city medicine.”

“But it’s not just useful for the city,” he countered with a smile. It was hard to maintain a civil attitude with such hatred staring him in the face, but Christopher put his best skills to work. “Mrs. Foster, I respect what you have been able to do for the community. But the truth is, it’s been documented that childbed fever decreases considerably with proper cleaning techniques. I would be happy to discuss the matter with you, as a colleague.”

“I ain’t no colleague,” she nearly growled. “Whatever that is. I don’t need your book learnin’ to heal folks around here. You’d do well to leave this town before someone – like me – puts a curse on you.”

It was there that Christopher did the wrong thing. He laughed. Apparently no one had ever laughed at Margaret Foster’s threat of a curse. “Madam, I do not believe in curses.”

“You’ll believe it soon enough,” she said. She muttered a string of words so quickly that Christopher had to strain to make sense of them. It was something to do with bad luck following him like a wounded hound or some such nonsense. She stormed off then, leaving him to wonder why she held him in such contempt. He wondered still.

Crossing Third Street, he saw Deborah Vandermark exit the commissary. Christopher couldn’t help but call out to her. Perhaps she was in town to borrow additional medical journals. He’d recently received several in a package from his mother.

“Miss Vandermark!”

Deborah looked across the street and saw him. He waved and she did likewise. “I have new journals,” he declared, closing the distance between them.

“How tempting,” she replied. “I will have to keep that in mind for my next trip into town. Right now, I’m afraid the workload at home is more than I can keep up with. There’s been no time for pleasure reading.”

“Just know that they are available whenever you’d like to borrow them.”

“So are you coming from a house call?” she asked, nodding toward his medical bag.

Christopher had decided to carry the bag with him when he went for his walks around town. That way people would get used to seeing him with it and perhaps realize he was the doctor. As it was, he doubted that he’d been able to meet more than a handful of citizens. He was a stranger to most.

“No, I just always take it with me in case there is a need.”

“I suppose that makes good sense.”

He chuckled. “Not really. Folks around here still don’t want anything to do with me. I suppose they all know that Mrs. Foster put a curse on me.”

Deborah laughed. “There aren’t many who haven’t had one of Mrs. Foster’s curses imposed on their peace of mind.”

“You?” he asked.

She nodded. “Once when I was quite young, I took some papaws from her yard. She ran after me with a broom yelling for all the world that with the setting sun, I would bear the thief ’s curse. Of course, I never knew exactly what that was. Mama heard about the situation and made me return with a batch of cookies and an apology. Mrs. Foster took the curse off and that was the end of that. I’ve avoided messing with Mrs. Foster ever since.”

“That’s no doubt for the best. Still, it seems most folks around here are afraid of her.”

Deborah looked past him toward the row of houses. “People fear what they don’t understand. In your case, medicine is a great mystery. Talk of things like bacteria and internal disorders makes no sense to them. You might as well be speaking a foreign language.”

“But there’s so much good that could be done. Women needn’t die in childbirth. Men needn’t die from injuries. Poor Mr. Perkins is beside himself. Here he is, taking money from the workers and giving me a good salary, and I’m doing nothing.”

Deborah put her hand up to block the sun. “It’s not for a lack of trying, though. Mr. Perkins knows you’ve made yourself available. He knows that you are willing to work at the task he’s hired you to do. You must hold on to the belief that time will change things.”

With the sun bearing down on them, Christopher motioned to the shade of the commissary porch. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if we got out of the sun.”

Deborah glanced around and nodded. “I’m actually waiting for my mother. She’s gathering the mail and seeing the paymaster.”

They made their way to the porch bench, where Deborah took a seat while Christopher remained standing. Her simple blue calico gown accentuated her trim waist and black hair, but it was her intelligence that continued to draw his admiration.

“So I presume your family is of Dutch ancestry with a name like Vandermark,” Christopher began. “Yet you have ebony hair and dark eyes.”

She glanced around and leaned toward him as if to share a great secret. “My mother’s side of the family had Spanish ancestry, as well as Dutch. I’m told that I take after my mother’s grandmother.” She eased back and grinned. “I just don’t say that too openly around here. There is still a fair amount of negativity toward Mexico and Spain.”

“Yet I’ve noticed that Mr. Perkins hires people of color for the sawmill work.”

“You will find that to be true in most of the mills around here. Workers are workers. If the men can be trained and prove capable, they are kept on. A lot of former slaves came here to work because Mr. Perkins has a reputation for being fair. My family has also hired former slaves for the logging business.”

“And what of your cook, Sissy? Was she also a slave?”

Deborah nodded. “She was with my mother’s family from birth. When the war came my grandparents thought to remain in Georgia. Things just got worse, however, and when the Emancipation was issued, my mother’s family took the matter seriously, much to their neighbor’s displeasure. Grandma and Grandpa told their slaves they were free to go. Someone set fire to their fields the next night. It nearly took down the house. They were worried about how much worse things would get, so they decided to board up the house and come stay with Mama and Papa.

“Sissy loved my mother and asked my grandparents if they might consider letting her accompany them to Texas. They did, and Sissy has been with Mother ever since.”

“And does she live with you?”

“No,” Deborah said, trying to adjust the ribbon in her hair. “She fell in love and married a man named George Jackson who works for us as a logger. They have a family and their oldest son, David, works for my family, as well. They have a house just north of town.”

The ribbon came free and Deborah’s black hair rippled down across her shoulder. “Goodness, but my hair can be a nuisance. Sometimes I think I should cut it all off.”

“No!” he responded rather enthusiastically. Deborah looked up in surprise, and Christopher laughed nervously to cover his excited reply. “I would hate to see you do that. I once treated a woman who needed to cut her hair following weeks of sickness and fever. The hair was hopelessly matted and falling out anyway, so she had it cut short. She was so miserable.”

“Well, it can be wretched with a mass of hair to contend with, too.” She managed to adjust the ribbon and pull the hair back up off her neck. “Especially in the heat.”

For a few minutes, neither one said anything else. Christopher thought of asking Deborah about the work she was doing for her family or maybe about her schooling back East, but he suddenly felt self-conscious as two young women made their way up the porch steps to the commissary. One was Mrs. Stevens; the other, he didn’t recognize.

“Hello, Sally,” Deborah called out. “Dinah.” She turned to Christopher. “You both know Dr. Clayton – don’t you?” The women turned rather shyly and nodded toward Christopher.

“Afternoon ladies,” he said. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Stevens?”

“Tired,” she replied. “Guess I’ve got about another month before the baby gets here.” She put a hand to her belly and nodded to the girl at her side. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. “We’re both tired.”

Deborah turned to Christopher. “This is Dinah Wolcott.”

He smiled. “Are you expecting, as well?”

The sallow-faced girl nodded and pushed stringy blond hair from her face. “Gonna have a young’un, come next year.”

“Well, congratulations. I’m sure your husband is delighted.”

Deborah turned to Christopher. “Her husband works for Vandermark Logging.” She smiled back at the young woman. “I’m sure Dr. Clayton will be able to help you when your time comes.”

The two young women exchanged a look. “Mrs. Foster’s been seeing to us,” Sally Stevens replied. “She said . . . well, that men got no good reason to be tendin’ women in a family way.”

“Bah,” Deborah said. “Women back East have men deliver their babies all the time. You know, there have been quite a few cases of childbed deaths in this area. Mrs. Perkins was quite upset at the number of young women passing on during delivery. That was one of the biggest reasons she brought in Dr. Clayton.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “You don’t suppose there’s a curse on this town – do you?”

Deborah shook her head. “I don’t believe God works that way. The Bible says Jesus became a curse for us – it also says that by His stripes we are healed. I think God has better plans for us than cursing us with dead babies and mamas. Just think about it. I know having a new doctor can be rather frightening, but I assure you Dr. Clayton is a knowledgeable man. Of course, I don’t have to tell you, Mrs. Stevens, since he saved your husband’s hand.”

She looked at the wood planks of the porch floor. “Miz Foster says it were her poultice that did the cure.”

Christopher started to comment, but Deborah got to her feet. “Mrs. Foster would, no doubt, say that, but you know as well as I do that your husband was in great pain when he came to the doctor. We both saw that hand. It wasn’t getting better – it was much worse than when Mrs. Foster began treating it. Wasn’t it?”

Sally Stevens nodded very slowly. “I reckon it was. I don’t rightly know what to believe. Mrs. Foster said my John could have lost his hand what with the doctor cuttin’ on it and all.”

“Mrs. Foster is just afraid that word will get around that her poultice didn’t help. I mean no disrespect to the woman, but you two must understand that for all her experience, she’s just a human being and she will make mistakes. Doctors make them too, but they have so much more training and understanding of the human body. I want you to really think about it, Sally. You too, Dinah. The lives of your babies, as well as your own life, might very well depend upon such reasoning. Don’t be afraid.”

The women murmured something Christopher couldn’t quite make out, then nodded toward him and Deborah and hurried into the store. He looked at Deborah, who was fussing with her rolled-up sleeves by this time.

“I appreciate your support,” he said softly.

Deborah glanced up and shook her head. “I hope they’ll listen. I would certainly hate to see more deaths in childbirth.”

“If Mrs. Foster would just listen to reason and sterilize her equipment and wash before and after tending to patients, it would help a great deal. I’m not opposed to herbal treatments and using nature for medicinal purposes, but it’s well-founded that thorough cleaning can terminate the growth of bacteria and save lives.”

“Well, I’m sure word will get around of what I said and I’ll receive another curse,” Deborah said with a grin.

He chuckled at the delight in her expression. “I’m still scandalized to know that you would steal from anyone.”

“I learned my lesson, Dr. Clayton. I haven’t stolen since. A green switch to my backside sealed the deal for me. I’m living a completely righteous existence now.”