The Regrets of Cyrus Dodd Page 11

  “Not right now,” she replied. “You can stay and fly the kite with your daddy.”

  Less than fifteen minutes passed before Virgil and Elroy followed her in.

  “What happened?” she asked, but Virgil brushed by without answering.

  That fall rumors of influenza drifted across the mountain and settled in the valley. They said it started in the Midwest then spread from state to state. Fred Merles claimed his sister knew of a town where influenza passed through and left not a single survivor.

  Of course no one in Elk Bend gave credence to such rumors until Sarah Myerson passed out at the Sunday morning service. She was sitting in the first pew, so Pastor Whitcomb rushed over and lifted her back onto the seat. Once he felt the heat of her skin he knew the fever had come to Elk Bend.

  “Somebody fetch Doc Kelly!” he hollered.

  By then several parishioners who’d caught wind of how influenza was spreading across the country were already out the door and climbing into their wagons. No one lingered in the churchyard that Sunday, and before Doc Kelly arrived Pastor Whitcomb announced there would no Sunday services for the next three weeks.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he said.

  Unfortunately it was already too late for being safe. Before the day was out Herman Parks and Emily Stoner both called for Doc Kelly. Elk Bend became a ghost town overnight. Those who’d heard the stories of influenza were frightened to venture out of their houses. They kept the windows and doors locked and refused to answer if someone rapped.

  Bethany kept a sharp eye on Elroy because she distinctly remembered that on the way into church Sarah Myerson stopped to rest her hand on the end of the pew where Elroy sat. She made sure the window in his bedroom was sealed up tight and fed him hot oatmeal with generous helpings of honey. After five days passed with no visible signs of fever, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  On Saturday morning Bethany woke feeling exhausted.

  Obviously because I’ve been so worried.

  She peered into the mirror and noticed the bulging red veins.

  Not enough sleep.

  Elroy was the one she had to worry about. He was the one sitting at the end of the pew where Sarah Myerson rested her hand. A cough knocked its way up from Bethany’s chest, but she moved past it and began fixing breakfast.

  When the eggs were done, she handed Virgil the plate and poured his coffee. He ate quickly, downed the coffee and hurried out.

  Bethany bent to pick up his plate and felt a tightness in her chest. She slid her hand beneath her blouse, loosened the top two buttons of her camisole then turned back to the stove. She was standing there stirring the pot of oatmeal when a sudden shortness of breath overtook her, and she passed out.

  “M-M-Mama!” Elroy screamed and ran to her.

  He tugged her up from the floor, but he was no bigger than she was and couldn’t lift the equal amount of weight. Looping her arm around his shoulder and his arm around her waist, he half-carried, half-dragged her to the bedroom and eased her into bed.

  Uncertain of what to do, he sat on the side of the bed and sobbed. After a few minutes he remembered the time when he’d been sick. He reasoned that he could do for her as she’d done for him.

  He gathered every quilt and blanket in the house and covered her. Then he took a damp cloth and wiped the perspiration from her brow. It was an hour, perhaps two, before he remembered the tea.

  She’d made a tea of elderberries, and he could still remember the sweetness of it. Elroy went into the kitchen and began looking through the tins and jars on the pantry shelf. On the top shelf he found the tin with dried clusters of elderberries.

  In his thoughts, he didn’t stutter. His thoughts were strong and confident. They came in unfettered words.

  Stoke the coals. Put berries in a pot with water.

  Unsure of how many berries, he added them all then set the pot on the stove and waited for it to boil.

  When the water turns purple, stir in something to sweeten. Honey or sugar?

  He watched as the water turned dark then left it to simmer as he went to check on her.

  “M-M-Mama,” he called and gave her shoulder a gentle shake. She lifted her eyelids, not enough to see, just sort of a fluttering motion.

  “I’m m-making t-tea,” he said. He hurried back to the kitchen, poured the almost black tea into a cup and stirred in both sugar and honey.

  When Virgil heard Bethany had fallen ill, he slept in the barn. It was Elroy who sat by her bedside. For three days the boy neither slept nor ate. He kept watch, smearing Vicks VapoRub on her chest, lifting her from the pillow when she coughed and thumping on her back until a ball of green phlegm dropped into the basin. On the third day she opened her eyes and saw him.

  She took his hand in hers and held it tightly. “Elroy, drink some of the tea you’ve been giving me.”

  “I have been, Mama,” he lied. For once his words were calm and free of stuttering. “Just finish your tea and get some sleep.” He tugged the blanket around her shoulders and settled back in the chair.

  “I love you, Elroy,” Bethany said as she closed her eyes.

  “I know you do, Mama,” he answered.

  * * *

  Two days later Elroy was gone. Although Bethany was barely able to walk, she made it to the barn and called for Virgil to come.

  He wrapped Elroy in a blanket and carried him to the barn. Five days later he buried the boy on the high ridge, a stone’s throw from where Coop had been laid to rest. When spring came and Bethany was strong enough to make the climb, she brought a small elderberry bush dug from the woods behind the barn and planted it as a marker.

  “I miss you, baby,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Elk Bend

  The End of an Era

  With Elroy gone, Bethany simply couldn’t face traveling to Richmond alone. That summer, for the first time in the ten years since she’d taken Margaret to live with Roslyn, she failed to visit. Instead she sat at the desk and wrote a nine-page letter explaining all that had happened.

  I miss your brother most keenly, she wrote. Although his ways were gentle and not always as your daddy wished, he had a heart capable of overwhelming love. In a place riddled with as many sorrows as this farm has, such an ability is a gift beyond measure.

  She told Margaret of the bout with influenza and how it was Elroy who had saved her life.

  I still struggle with weakness in my legs and problems with breathing, but Doctor Kelly assures me that in time I will recover.

  In closing she wrote that next summer she would perhaps try to stay for an extra week to make up for having missed that year.

  That summer several letters went back and forth between Margaret and her mama, and in an odd way they shared an intimacy of words greater than ever before.

  Although there is not a day that goes by when my heart doesn’t ache to have you nearby, Bethany wrote, I remain confident that my decision to send you to live with Roslyn was indeed the right one.

  * * *

  On her weekly trip in early November to visit the high ridge where Elroy was laid to rest, Bethany’s legs gave out and she dropped to the ground. Several times she tried to stand, but it was impossible. She sat with her back braced against the trunk of a fallen pine and waited. As soon as Virgil came in from the field, he would see she was not there and come in search of her. Hopefully.

  In November the days are short, and the sun disappears behind the mountains in the early afternoon. When that happened, Bethany pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and drew her knees to her chest.

  Hours passed, and Virgil did not come. The sky grew black, and still she sat with her back against the tree. Once more she tried to stand, but the pain in her chest forced her to drop to the ground. She listened for him to call her name but heard only the sound of small animals scurrying through the undergrowth. In time her fingers and toes became stiff from the cold, and her eyes fluttered shut.

  There was no way of knowing h
ow many hours she had been asleep when the sound of boots thumping along the pathway woke her, and she heard him calling her name.

  “Over here, Virgil,” she said, but her voice was little more than a whisper. She tried again, but he moved on still calling her name. Desperate to make herself known, she fumbled for a stone from the ground and tossed it in the direction of his voice.

  Virgil heard it. He stopped and listened. First he heard only the sounds of the mountain; then after several moments he heard the thud of another stone and walked in that direction. He found her not ten feet from the pathway.

  “Good Lord!” he exclaimed and kneeled beside her.

  The small bouquet of scarlet holly branches was lying by her side. She glanced down at the limp flowers and said, “I was taking these to Elroy.”

  Virgil shook his head with an air of disbelief.

  “Good grief, Bethany,” he said. “The boy’s dead. Leave him be and stop fussing over him.”

  He lifted Bethany into his arms, carried her home and laid her in the bed. As he covered her with a warm quilt he said, “Promise me you won’t try climbing up to the ridge again.”

  “But Elroy is there all alone,” she replied sorrowfully.

  Over the years Virgil had made known his dislike of the boy. He stood and looked down at her with his jaw set in a hard edge.

  “Elroy’s dead! Forget worrying about him and start worrying about yourself.”

  He noticed the hurt look in her eyes, then softened the sound of his voice and added, “Anyway, he’s not alone. Coop’s watching over him.”

  As it turned out, Bethany had no choice in the matter. Her strength was never again as it had been. She struggled with even the simplest of tasks, such as pulling herself from the bed and making supper. She no longer had an appetite for anything. Even when Virgil pleaded with her to take a few bites of cornbread or a small potato, she turned away.

  After two weeks Virgil went for Doc Kelly. Although the doctor gave Bethany a thorough examination, there seemed to be no explanation. Seeing the tears welling in her eyes as she spoke of missing Elroy and Margaret, the doctor suggested that such sadness can do strange things to people.

  “Perhaps you could have Margaret come for a visit,” he said.

  The next day Virgil wrote a letter to Margaret and told her of the doctor’s words.

  I want you home, he said. I’ve been patient with this nonsense of you living in Richmond for long enough. It’s time it came to an end. Your mama needs you here. At the end of the letter he signed it simply, Daddy.

  Five days later Virgil received a telegram saying Margaret would be arriving that afternoon on the five o’clock train, could he please be there to meet her. He folded the telegram into his pocket and went to tell Bethany the news. She gave a sad sigh.

  “Oh, Virgil, you shouldn’t have asked her to come.”

  “Why not?”

  “Of the three children I’ve borne, Margaret is the only one we’ve given a good life. Let her stay there and be happy.”

  “No,” he said flatly. “She’s got a responsibility, and it’s high time she stood up to it!” He jammed his fisted hands into his pockets then turned and stomped out of the room.

  Virgil Jackson

  I’m a patient man, but my patience has come to an end. I should have never gone along with this nonsense to begin with. Margaret belongs at home with her mama and daddy. She should be here taking care of the chores so Bethany don’t have to worry about them.

  I’d bet any amount of money this whole thing was one of Roslyn’s schemes. She don’t like me; never has. Not that I care all that much ’cause I’m none too fond of her either. The way Bethany’s turned against me, that’s all Roslyn’s doing. She tells Bethany I ain’t good enough for her, and poor dumb Bethany believes it.

  Ain’t good enough? That’s a laugh. I got a farm way bigger than anything their daddy ever owned, and I got money in the bank.

  The problem here is that we had three young’uns and not one of them turned out to be worth a dime. A man has sons, he’s got a right to expect them to work the field. I was willing to be fair, to give each of them boys a piece of land when their time came. Instead of being grateful, they turned up their noses.

  Elroy wasn’t born a sissy; Bethany made him into one. My problem was that I let her get away with doing it.

  After he died and she was feeling the pain of it, I told her I was sorry for her having all that misery. You know what she said? She said she forgives me. Forgives me! How’s that for irony? I ain’t done nothing to be forgiven for; I was just trying to be nice.

  When Margaret gets here I’m gonna put an end to this mollycoddling. She’ll do what a girl’s supposed to do, and this time I’m not just pussyfooting around.

  The Last Homecoming

  As Virgil stood on the station platform eyeing the handful of passengers stepping down from the train, he realized for the first time that he might not even recognize his daughter. The last time he saw her she’d just turned six. Ten years had gone by. In that number of years she would have changed from a child to a woman.

  He walked down and stood close to the stationhouse entrance. Most passengers would come this way, so he’d have more time to look them over. After only a few minutes he spotted her carrying a single suitcase. With her pale blond hair lifting in the wind, she looked exactly like Bethany.

  “Margaret!”

  She looked across, waved and then hurried toward him.

  “How’s Mama doing?” she asked before he had a chance to say anything.

  “About the same,” he answered then took her suitcase and carried it to the wagon.

  She climbed in, and they started for home. Virgil made several attempts to start a conversation, but each effort ended with a one-word answer. Yes, the trip was fine. No, she’d not brought clothes for an extended stay. Yes, she was anxious to see Bethany. No, she’d not heard from Jeremy. After a while Virgil gave up trying, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

  When they arrived at the farm, Margaret said the house appeared smaller than she’d remembered it. Then she darted inside in search of Bethany.

  Her reunion with Bethany was quite different. She ran to her mama’s arms, and they clung to one another for nearly a full minute. When Margaret finally pulled back her eyes were filled with tears.

  “Mama,” she chided, “you’re so thin!”

  Bethany waved off the comment as if it were of no concern. “It’s this old dress that just makes me seem so.”

  Margaret knew better; she’d felt the sharp edges of her mama’s bones when they’d embraced.

  “Dress or no dress,” she said, “I’m not about to leave here until I see you looking well and healthy.”

  Bethany smiled, but on the inside of her chest she felt a needle of fear pricking her heart.

  After only a week, Margaret wrote Aunt Roslyn and said she’d be staying longer than originally expected but there was nothing to worry about.

  When Mama is up to looking herself, I’ll be back, she promised.

  Through the wintery months of December and January, Bethany and Margaret sat across from one another at the kitchen table, sometimes sipping elderberry tea and sometimes indulging in a cup of sweetened chocolate. Every afternoon Margaret set out a plate of honey biscuits or sugared bread, but at the end of the day nothing had been touched.

  Bethany continued to grow weaker, and by mid-December she’d developed a cough loud enough to be heard outside the house.

  “We’ve got to get you to a doctor,” Margaret insisted.

  On a day when the sun was shining but the air was icy cold, the three of them climbed into the wagon and Virgil headed for Elk Bend. After spending over an hour in Doctor Kelly’s office, they were right back where they’d started. The best he could offer was that Bethany’s illness was probably an aftermath of the influenza.

  “But there must be something we can do!” Margaret insisted.

  Doctor Kelly gav
e a helpless shrug. After a long while he sent them home with two bottles of Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup and the recommendation that Bethany take a two-hour rest every afternoon.

  In early February Bethany was sitting in the kitchen chair, and in the middle of a conversation her eyes rolled up and she slid to the floor. By then she was no heavier than a child, so Margaret scooped her up and carried her to bed. For nine days she slipped in and out of consciousness, but on the morning of the tenth day she woke alert and calling for Margaret to come and sit with her.

  Looking more peaceful than she’d been in a month or more, Bethany asked for a cup of elderberry tea then pulled herself to a sitting position and rested her back against the pillow. She waited until she heard the front door click shut behind Virgil then took hold of Margaret’s hand and drew her close.

  “Last night I saw Elroy,” she said in a clear voice.

  “Mama, that’s not possible. Elroy’s gone, you know he is.” Margaret touched her hand to Bethany’s forehead. “It’s the fever making you—”

  “It’s not the fever,” Bethany replied. “He came to me in a dream. A dream that was clear as day. ‘Mama,’ he said, ‘I’m waiting for you.’”

  “That was just a dream, Mama. You can’t think he was really—”

  “I know what I know,” Bethany replied. “Elroy didn’t have a lot of good things in his life, but he had me. I was his touchstone. He knew as long as I was watching over him he’d be okay.” She lowered her eyes, and a look of sadness settled on her face. “When I got sick no one was watching over Elroy; that’s why we lost him.”

  “It wasn’t because of you, Mama. Elroy got influenza.”

  Bethany lifted her hand and touched it to Margaret’s lips. “Hush and listen, because this is important.”

  Margaret nodded and gave a feigned smile.

  “There’s something I want you to promise me.”