All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred forty-four)

All Bedlam Courses Past

Chapter Six

Short Days

(part one hundred forty-four)

The words were slurred, somnolent. Her hand made motions, as opening a door, and her chin came to her chest. Both hands gripped as though she hauled a heavy pan. “Never get hot. Never get hot.”

Mary was, Lawrence could only put it to himself, in a state. Need a mop for the floor. She was trembling with a chill. What time could he manage going for a doctor?

He bellowed: “Samuel!”

Nothing occurred, and Lawrence moved right, left. He found purpose, put his head in the bedroom.

“Samuel!”

Get the comforter. Wrap her up and carry her. Get her tucked up.

And where were blankets? In that trunk at the foot. He would need help with this nursing…

He would need to make no error saving Mary, making plain he’d tried. The white of walls and sheers cast the sheen on her face waxy. Her hair was full wet like she’d been in a rainstorm, her lips slack and eyes fluttering.

She could be better tomorrow…

But this was the most ill he’d ever seen a person look.

He blanketed her unclean body, took a step back, inhaling…stopped himself inhaling. His next step hit an obstacle that wobbled him off-balance. Samuel, toes often crushed this way, made only the noise of asking: “Daddy, is that the typhoid Mama got?”

“For the doctor to say. Come out here.”

Between the bedrooms—a space, not a hallway, a window to light it, and Mary’s sewing table under—Lawrence put a hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “You know how to get to Clarks? You can take yourself there straight, like you didn’t just now when I told you to see how your Mama was?”

“What for?”

“Cause she can’t be alone. Cause someone’s got to get the doctor. You ask if Mrs. Clark’ll come along.”

Mrs. Clark, before leaving him, by means of leaning back in the rocker and closing her eyes, said: “Lawrence, you need to go to McClurkins first thing in the morning, and get Mary-Lidah. If they give you any fuss, don’t have it.”

Some sense of propriety, as if she’d shed her gown, made him exit his own house. Good enough this time of year sleeping in the barn…

Farmer Clark had carried his wife over the cow pasture on the back of their riding horse, and gone again for Dr. Mangin. Mrs. Clark had set a disinfectant bottle from her basket on a cupboard shelf, with a reminding clink. “You walk across and get fed. Junior’s got an eye on Samuel. When the doctor’s looked at Mary, you can fix up the kitchen. Half a bottle to a good-size bucket. Thirty-five cents.”

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Bedlam

All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred forty-five)

(2024, Stephanie Foster)