Disclaimer: I own nothing, I claim no
ownership, I have no way of making money on
this…please…please don’t sue. Just borrowing the
characters for my own fun and amusement. Have fun reading.
Like or not, please review. Thank you
Ben
Comes Home
By: Becky H.
“All set, Adam?”
Ben looked back at his eldest, who’d just stepped up to the back of the wagon.
“Yes,
“Dinner should be tasty tonight, big brother.” Eric looked longingly at the pile of sugar, flour, potatoes, and other food staples, thinking about the magical ways that Hop Sing combined them. He could hardly wait for the evening meal.
“Climb up, boys; let’s go home.” Ben waited a moment for Eric and Adam to find a place among the supplies, and then he clicked his tongue against his teeth and the team started off toward the Ponderosa.
It had begun to snow while they were in town. The fat flakes fell slowly and steadily in the still air. This was just the leading edge of the storm. It was colder now, yet Ben figured that there was plenty of time to reach the ranch before it began snowing heavily. It would feel good to walk into their warm home. Marie and Joseph would be waiting for them, holding dinner until their return. Marie would have coffee ready, and would have prepared water for them to have a bath. He thanked God again for her. He could not thank the good Lord above enough for the miracle of falling in love with her. He had been incredibly blessed, three times blessed, and he had the three fine sons to prove it. He smiled in anticipation of the evening, and these thoughts warmed him on the way home.
As they approached the house, Eric was the first to notice the lack of lamplight shining from the windows. It had been snowing steadily for the past ten minutes, and the horses were tiring by the time the wagon reached the house. It was not yet full dark, so a lamp wasn’t strictly necessary, but Marie always lit the lamps early to. ‘welcome the night’ as she said.
“Hey,
Ben shook his head at his middle son. He had also noted the lack of smoke from the chimney. He knew the house would be dark and cold. As he turned the wagon toward the kitchen entrance, he looked behind him and caught Adam’s gaze. Adam was worried. “I expect that she left us a note—maybe a neighbor came by to ask her for help?” He sounded unconvincing even to himself. And as soon as he had reined in the team, he jumped down and walked quickly to the front door. Eric and Adam were at his heels.
“Pa…” Adam started.
“Adam. Take your brother and check the barn. See if any of the horses are missing.”
While Ben and Hop Sing searched the house, Adam and Eric ran to the barn. It was twilight now, and their feet disturbed a six -inch layer of snow that had built up slowly over the afternoon. They were oblivious to the beauty of the white layer as they rushed to the barn, both anxious to locate Marie and their little brother. Eric spotted Sugar, still with the bridle on.
“Adam. Sugar’s here…but Ma wouldn’t have left her like that.”
Adam nodded in agreement, looking around the rest of the barn and studying everything carefully to make sure that nothing was out of place, that nothing was missing..
“Adam…Come on! There’s nothing to see here. Let’s go up to the house and see what Pa has found out.”
Eric was pulling at his arm, and Adam could hear the panic creeping into his voice. He was deeply concerned also—Marie wouldn’t just leave. He followed his younger brother out and retraced their tracks through the thickening snowfall to the house. Hop Sing had lit a lantern and was standing on the porch waiting for them.
“Father says to come inside. Honorable father wants to talk to you.”
Eric and Adam nodded, and went on ahead of him into the main room. As soon as they entered, Ben turned toward them from where he was stoking a fire.
“Come here and warm up.” The three of them crossed the room quickly, and Adam and Eric answered the question they saw in their Pa’s eyes. “Pa, Sugar’s in her stall; she’s still got the bridle on her and…”
“All the other horses are still there.” Adam finished. Then he added. “Pa, did you—is there a note?”
Ben shook his head. Adam suddenly remembered the feeling that he’d had earlier when they had left Marie on the road. The feeling that he’d never see his stepmother and his baby brother again. He shook his head, trying to shake off the dread that was beginning to creep over him like a shadow.
“Boys. Warm up for a minute. Then we’ll take the lanterns out and search around the house. Maybe—we’ll see something that will give us a clue as to where they are. Hop Sing and I have searched the house twice. They are not inside.”
“What you want me to do?” Hop Sing was nearly wringing his hands in distress. The two people that he loved most in this world were missing.
“Look through the house again. Maybe we missed—something. Get some coffee going, and maybe some hot water too. If they have been outside in the cold…”
Ben’s voice trailed off, his thoughts left unfinished. If Marie and Joseph had been outside for long in this weather, they might not find them in time. He sent up a quick prayer for their safety. Then he straightened and placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Grab a lantern. I want you and Adam to search around the outside of the house together. I will take the perimeter of the barn. Start close in to the house and then circle outward slowly. Look sharp, boys.”
“What…what are we looking for?” Eric said, and his voice was shaky. He was not far from tears, and Ben realized how young he was.
“We’re looking for anything out of the ordinary, Hoss. Anything. You stay with Adam, you hear?”
His two sons nodded, and followed him to the front door, and then out into the rising storm. Their lanterns gave the snowy night a soft, warm glow, and a circle of light surrounded the boys as they separated from him. Ben prayed that they would find something soon, some sign of their missing loved ones.
On Ben’s third circuit around the barn, he noticed that Adam and Eric had spread their search to the out buildings. It was snowing harder now, and the sky was very dark. Ben could hear Adam calling for Marie and Joseph, his voice reaching him over the rising whistle of the wind. The stronger gusts blew small ice chips up, stinging his face, and he realized that his sons must be as cold and uncomfortable as he was. He decided that, if no sign were found in the next ten minutes, he would take the boys into the house and wait until morning to continue searching. He stamped his boots in the snow, blowing on his free hand, and then he transferred the lantern to that hand to let his breath warm his other hand. Then he continued searching.
In the end, Joe saved himself. Ben thought this later, after the three horrible, unspeakable days were over, and they knew that Joseph would recover.
Ben had waited fifteen minutes longer than the ten-minute limit he’d set for himself. But finally, he yelled for his boys to join him, and then headed toward the porch rail.
Adam and Eric ran toward him as best they could in the deepening drifts. They were hoping that he’d called them in because he’d found something.
Joe had lain hidden in a large drift by the corral post. He coughed softly, and it was just enough to keep his nose and mouth clear of snow. His head was tucked near Marie’s neck in the hollow there between her body and the fence post. The fence post that took her life now saved his. It had kept the snow from covering his head completely. But now the snow was deep enough so that the drift next to the post had begun to slide in from the sides, choking off the meager flow of fresh air to the child’s mouth and nose. In his delirium, Joe had finally caught up to his Mama. They were sitting together in front of a roaring fire and he was warm and cozy cuddled there on her lap. She sang to him, and he relaxed against her, just about asleep. Then Mama abruptly stopped, startling Joe out of his doze.
“Non. Joseph. You must not sleep yet. Papa is near. He will be with you now. Mama needs to go away now. You must wake up…wake up, Cherie. Wake up my precious.”
Joe moaned. His body was suddenly very cold. Where…had the fire gone? Where was his Mama? He could still hear her singing, but the sound of her voice was fading. He opened his mouth, very afraid and alone, and tried to take a deep breath to scream for her to wait, to not leave him here in the cold, but now he couldn’t breathe, and he choked. Raising his aching head slightly, he began coughing in earnest—harsh wracking coughs that tore at his throat and shook his small body, dislodging the snowy blanket that had hidden and warmed him for so many hours.
Adam heard him first and froze, grabbing at his Pa’s sleeve.
“Where..?” Ben pushed past him and ran toward the terrible, wonderful sound.
Joseph was choking; he could not get enough air in his lungs, and he coughed and coughed, his face gray-blue with the cold and twisted with the heavy pain in his chest. He had collapsed forward, unconscious, before Ben or his brothers reached him.
“JOSEPH!! OH GOD…NO!!! No…no…”
In the light of his lantern, Ben had seen Marie’s hand sticking out of the snow near where his baby lay half-buried. His mind accepted it; he knew that she was dead, but his heart denied the truth there on the ground before him.
Adam dropped to his knees and began to dig, heavy sobs tearing at his throat. Eric joined him, and tears ran down his cold-reddened cheeks.
“Pa…” He cried brokenly. “Ma…she’s…” He couldn’t get any more words out through his tears.
Ben touched his baby’s blue cheek. He’d heard Joseph coughing, hadn’t he? But his tiny son looked dead. As his hand caressed the cold cheek once again, he felt a small puff of a breath on his palm. Frantically, he tore off his jacket and draped it over Joseph.
“Pa…” Adam’s voice cracked and shivered in
grief. “Her neck…it’s broke,
Ben knew that he should comfort Adam now. Comfort both of his sons. But his entire attention was on Marie. Adam had uncovered her face and upper body, and her eyes were open. He saw, with growing horror, that they were frozen. Frost glittered on her irises, making them shine in the glow of the lantern.
Joe moaned and shifted slightly under the warmth of his father’s coat. Ben’s attention immediately snapped back to his youngest son. Marie was…was…dead, but Joseph wasn’t, and he needed to tend his son.
He tried to lift Joseph off Marie, but dropped his hands away when his son’s moan rose to a hoarse scream of pain. Eric had thumped down behind him, his legs unable to hold him at his brother’s cry and at Marie’s sudden movement.
Eric was horrified to see that when his Pa had lifted Joe, his baby brother’s hand was tangled in Ma’s hair. When…when Pa lifted him, Joe’s hand had raised Marie’s head off the ground with a sickening ripping sound, the sound of her hair tearing loose from the frozen earth. Eric thought that he would hear that sound forever. He bent his head to his knees and rocked, weeping. After a minute, Adam found his voice and patted his brother’s back roughly.
“Eric…Hoss…get the door. Tell Hop Sing that we’ve found them. Go, Eric.”
And at his big brother’s firm direction, Eric found the strength to get up and get moving toward the house…away from…from Ma.
Adam didn’t look directly at Marie’s face again as he helped his father clear away the snow from around her. Joe’s hand and fingers were hopelessly tangled in her frozen hair, and Adam had a picture come to him—a memory of the countless times that he had seen Marie holding baby Joseph in front of the fire. She would sit in the rocker, with her hair down, modestly covered, and feed her baby. But Joe’s hand would always find and bury itself in her fall of hair—twirling his hand among the thick strands and running the curls through his tiny fingers as he nursed.
Adam thought that he had cried all he could for
now, but he shook with grief again. Not for himself or Pa or Eric, but
for his baby brother. He had often envied Joe for the gift that he had
been given at birth—a loving Ma and
“No. Adam…No.” His voice shook a little. “Don’t…we’ll just carry them both inside. Help me, son.” His Pa sounded so old, so broken. Adam pocketed his knife and slipped his hands under Marie’s legs and lifted while his father picked up her shoulders. If he couldn’t get Joe free out here, they would cut him loose in the house. Adam looked at his brother, but then looked quickly away, focusing on keeping his balance in the snow. Joe’s face was blood streaked, his hair was matted onto his head, and his skin was bluish-gray. ‘Lord,’ Adam thought, ‘Please let him live, please. Don’t take him too. Let him live for Pa, for Eric, for me. Oh, God, please.’
Eric held the door and Hop Sing had a warm blanket spread on the sofa in front of the fire. “Oh, Missy.” He sighed, and helped Ben settle her on the cushions.
In the light of the house, Joe looked worse, if possible, than he had outside. Ben removed the coat draped over him and directed Hop Sing to bring him the scissors from his desk. Carefully, he cut the boy’s hand away from his Mama’s hair and then lifted Joseph off Marie’s chest.
Joe cried out at the jostling, whimpering “Mama” softly. Eric cried with him. “Oh, Pa…what will we do without her? Oh…Ma…” he whispered, bowing his head.
Hop Sing gently wrapped the blanket up and around Marie, covering her face. He closed his eyes and laid his hand on her head for a moment, wishing her a safe journey to her awaited heaven.
“Hop Sing has bath for little Joe. Warm him up. Need to warm him up now.” He had placed a large pan from the kitchen in front of the fire and had filled it part way with warm water. It was big enough for the boy to sit in, and Ben remembered when Marie had used it to bathe baby Joseph in just a few short years ago. He swallowed back his tears. His grief would have to wait. Right now, Joseph needed him.
The cook handed Ben his scissors again, and Ben began to cut off Joe’s clothes. He let the sodden, blood stained pieces fall unheeded to the floor. He tried to move Joe as little as possible, but it seemed that any movement caused his baby more pain. He was worried about Joe’s breathing as well. He could now see the terrible wound to Joe’s head and the bruising on his right shoulder, but his ribs seemed all right. Yet his breathing was labored, and his skin was either too cold, where it had been exposed to the weather—or too warm.
Joe arched upward unexpectedly, choking and coughing until he was blue lipped and gasping. His body jerked in Ben’s arms and his eyes fluttered open. He cried hoarsely for his Mama, cried her name over and over until Ben thought he would go mad. Then, Joe’s eyes opened wide, but he didn’t appear to be looking at his Pa or at anyone else in the room. Instead, his head twisted every direction as if searching for someone. He began screaming, piercing screams for his Mama. He screamed until he had no voice left, and still his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He struggled, trying to escape Ben’s grasp, twisting and hurting himself in his fight to get free. He began coughing again, and as he coughed repeatedly, each one seemed to wrench his frame. He coughed until he ran out of air, then his eyes rolled back and he was still, limp again in Ben’s arms.
Adam had come near to try and help, but was frozen in place, shocked to stillness by his brother’s screams. When Joe fainted, Adam was moving for the front door before his mind registered his actions. He was going for the doctor. Right now. Joe needed more help than they could give him.
“Adam!” He stopped short at his Pa’s tone of voice.
“
“Joseph…is probably going to…to..die, Adam.”
Eric looked up, his blue eyes huge on his white face. “No! Pa, no…Not little Joe..”
“Adam. You will stay here with us. I will not allow you to risk yourself in this storm on the small chance that you could reach the doctor in time.”
Adam held his hat in his hand, shocked by his father’s admission. Joe was going to die? No…no. God would not be so cruel…He put his hat down on the credenza and walked slowly back to the fire. He sat down by Eric, and, after a minute, gathered his brother to him. Eric lay with his head on Adam’s lap, sobbing brokenly. ‘No…no…not little Joe, too. No..”
Adam stroked Eric’s back, his eyes on the little boy lying so still now in his Pa’s arms. He could see Joe struggle for every breath. His face was so white, and his lips were blue. Adam looked away, looked down, and then put his head down atop Eric’s and closed his eyes. ‘Why, God? Why find him if we have to watch him die now? Why? Please…please, save him.’
Hop Sing took the small, naked boy gently from his father and set him in the warm water. Ben wrung out the washcloth and began sponging the dried blood from his son’s face and body while Hop Sing held the boy upright. Ben left Joseph’s head injury alone; he was afraid that the wound would break open again. From the look of his son’s clothes, the boy had lost as much blood as he could afford to lose.
The steam from the warm water had begun to work on Joe’s lungs, loosening the thick build-up of infection there. When Joe began coughing again, it was now a heavy, retching sound, and Hop Sing quickly leaned the boy forward in a sitting position. Joe coughed again and gagged as large ropes of thick yellow-green mucus fell into the bathwater. Ben gently lifted his son away from the mess and into a warm towel. He tried to be careful of the boy’s shoulder and head, but Joe still squirmed and moaned in pain. Ben wished that he could take the pain for his baby boy, he was all he had left of Marie, and he was suffering so. He felt as if every moan and cry of pain cut off a small piece of his own heart.
Joe shivered in his arms, but his body wasn’t cold anymore. He had a fever. “Joseph. Joe. Papa’s holding you. Joe, keep fighting. We need you here, baby. You need to stay with us.”
Hop Sing brought a nightshirt to Ben and helped him slip it over Joe’s head. Then Ben held Joseph close as Hop Sing carefully cleaned the head wound, softening the matted hair with warm water and washing away the dried blood. “This need stitching.” He said softly. “It wait ‘til doctor come.” He wrapped a clean bandage around the boy’s head and stood up. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Little Joe was like his son too. He had helped Mrs. Cartwright in childbirth, and he had welcomed the beautiful baby to the light of the world. He’d been with him every day since. Joseph had sickness in his lungs, some of the worst he’d ever heard, and the small boy would probably die. So much sadness in this house now. How much more would there be if this child died? He did not know if Mr. Cartwright could bear it. He did not know if he could bear it. He would do all he could to prevent such sadness, he determined. “I will make a medicine for little Joe.”
Ben nodded at him and hoped that he could perform some miracle and heal the child in his arms.
Joe was gasping again, his mouth opening and closing in a fruitless search for more air, more oxygen. Ben sat him upright, and his breathing eased slightly.
Ben looked down at his youngest. He felt more helpless now than he’d ever felt before. There was nothing for him to do but to hold Joseph and pray for a miracle. He’d seen this kind of sickness before, on the trail west. The men and women who got it sometimes recovered, but the children always died. They died hard. He didn’t want that for his beloved Joseph, his baby. He closed his eyes.
“God, please spare my son. Please. He has so much to live for, so much life left to live. He has brought so much joy to this house…Please, God…please..”
And now Ben’s control broke and he cried, sobs racking his body, shaking with the pain he felt in losing Marie and the fear he felt for Joseph.
Adam looked up and reached out, taking his Pa’s
hand, agreeing with his prayer and adding his own for the good Lord to spare
his brother. Eric’s head was pillowed on Adam’s lap, he had fallen
asleep, exhausted by the day and the grief that had ended it. He had just
lost the only Ma he had ever known. Adam looked down at him, tears falling
for his Pa and for his two younger brothers, tears for all of them.
On the floor at his feet, Adam had fallen asleep by Eric, and Hop Sing had covered the two boys with blankets. The fire burned, and Ben felt its warmth on his skin, but his heart was frozen. Cold fear had wound its fingers into his chest and was squeezing his heart unmercifully. He waited after each of Joe’s breaths to see if he would draw another.
Hop Sing had been placing onion poultices around the boy’s middle, and the heat and smell of them was making Ben ill. It didn’t seem to be helping Joseph, but Ben couldn’t bring himself to ask Hop Sing to stop. He was desperate to help little Joe, and who knew…maybe this would help. Ben realized that it was almost dawn now. This had been the longest night in his memory. Joseph’s painful breaths and tiny moans tore at him, and made each minute feel like an hour. Ben sat and listened to the wind echo Joseph. Its louder moans along the eaves seemed to mock his son’s small cries. And the snow had turned to rain in the night, it seemed the very sky was crying with him over the events of the day.
Ben placed his hand gently against Joe’s back, rubbing in slow circles and talking quietly to his baby, not wanting to disturb Adam and Eric.
“Joseph. I love you. Keep fighting, my little one. You are needed here. You must not give up. Breathe, baby…keep breathing.” He whispered in his son’s ear, any words of comfort he could think of, and even recited all Joe’s favorite nursery stories that he could remember or dream up. He talked to his son until he was hoarse and full morning light had come.
Ben blinked tiredly. Morning was here, and Joseph had lived to see it. He helped Hop Sing change the bandage on Joe’s head and strap the boy’s right arm tightly to his body to keep his injured shoulder immobile. They had lain him down to do this, and after a few moments, Joe gasped for air, his face turning blue. Quickly, Ben lifted him upright, resting Joe’s head on his shoulder. After that, Ben let Hop Sing tend Joseph alone. He concentrated on holding Joe close, and felt his struggle to draw in air. His little body thrummed with the effort…the effort of the simple act of breathing in and out. Joe wasn’t even coughing anymore and he lay against Ben, his body tense, while his head drooped heavily on his Papa’s shoulder.
Ben cradled Joe’s head, feeling the silky curls beneath his fingers. His youngest puffed out short labored breaths against his neck. ‘What would I give,’ Ben wondered, ‘if right now I could just ease his breathing. Just help him to relax and sleep so he could heal. I’d give this ranch. I’d give my life. Oh Marie, help your son…help our son.’
He cried then, his tears wetting Joe’s neck
Adam was awake now. Eric shifted and coughed next to him. He sounded like his was getting sick too. Adam got up quickly, stretched, and then stood beside his Pa’s chair. Joe was still alive—but he looked awful. He looked worse than he did last night. On the floor, Eric coughed again.
“Pa…”
Ben wiped his face with his free hand and looked up at his oldest son.
“Adam. Check the sky. It looks lighter than yesterday. If the weather has improved, ride for the doctor.”
Concerned, Adam stared at his
“Pa…Are you going to be all right? You look…”
Ben waved him off with his free hand. He was more tired than he’d ever been, but he would sit with Joseph until Joe was well, or….” He didn’t want to think about the alternative.
“Adam. Get going as soon as you can.” Ben looked for a long moment at the couch, where the still form of Marie lay shrouded in the blanket. “Adam. Send the doctor, and then stop at the undertakers. Tell Lew that I want the finest mahogany coffin he has in stock. Arrange for it son.”
Ben looked down again and began stroking Joe’s head.
“Yes,
‘I’m sorry, Adam.’ He whispered as the front door closed, and Adam was on his way.
On the floor, Eric shifted and coughed
again. Ben studied his middle son worriedly, and prayed that the doctor
would arrive quickly.
He pounded on Doc Martin’s door, and when the Doc answered, he quickly relayed the tragic events of yesterday. The Doc’s eyes misted over at his account of Marie’s death, but he briskly questioned Adam about Joe while he rummaged through his medical supplies and made ready to leave. Adam helped him harness the buggy, and then watched him head toward the ranch. He prayed that God would spare Joe until he arrived, and prayed that God would give the Doc the skills to save his baby brother.
When Paul Martin’s buggy disappeared in the distance, Adam squared his shoulders and turned toward the undertaker’s house.
Somehow, Adam got through the retelling of Marie’s death, and let Lew know about his father’s wishes. Lew agreed to deliver the casket by that afternoon. Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Adam had mounted up and was ready to head for home.
The landscape blurred around him as Adam fought with his emotions. He couldn’t seem to quit crying. Every time he’d blink his eyes clear, his mind would betray him with another scene from last night. Marie’s eyes shining in the lamplight, Joe’s cries for his Mama; Joe’s fingers tangled in Marie’s hair; Pa’s cry of anguish at the hideous discovery of Marie’s body in the snow. Pa’s cry of ‘Oh, God. No!’ echoed over and over in Adam’s head, spurring him on. He felt so guilty for all the times that he had resisted Marie’s attempts to mother him. He wished, like the child he still was, that he could turn back time and do it all again. This time, he’d gladly accept all the mother love that Marie had freely offered. He had been stubborn and stupid! Now, it was too late. His overtired mind replayed all the impatient and unkind things he’d said to his stepmother, and he had to stop before he got to the house to get control of himself. He couldn’t cry like this in front of Pa or Eric. He had to be strong.
Adam dismounted at the porch and left his horse there. Unsaddling and caring for the mare would have to wait. He had to see Joe. He couldn’t make it right with Marie. It was too late. But he could try to help her son.
In the main room, Adam’s entrance had gone unnoticed. Doc Martin had his hand on Ben’s shoulder. His face said everything. Doc thought Joe was dying. His father’s head was shaking back and forth, and Adam crossed to his Pa’s chair to listen.
“No…No..Paul. He’s lived this long. There has got to be something that you can do for him.” Ben’s desperate tones made Adam’s eyes well with tears again.
“Ben. It’s just a miracle Joseph is still breathing. His lungs are full of fluid. You can hear it when he tries to take a breath. I don’t know how he has lasted this long. You need to prepare yourself…”
“NO! No…I can’t lose him too. I
can’t…” Ben’s voice, hoarse with emotion, broke at the last words and his
shoulders shook. Adam knelt by his
Paul stopped and looked down at Adam. He had tears in his eyes. This family would suffer a double loss. Ben had lost his wife and his youngest son would die today. Paul’s concern was not for Joseph anymore—he was minutes, possibly hours from joining his mother. His concern was for his friend, Ben. Ben was on the verge of a physical collapse. He had been up for two days, and almost one complete day of that had been full of unspeakable grief and the stress of caring for a dying child. Ben needed rest immediately. Paul tried again.
“Ben…Eric and Adam need you too. You must rest.”
“NO! No…if I lie down, Joseph will choke. He has to sit up to breathe.”
“Pa..” Ben looked over at Adam. He hadn’t seen him come in. How long had he been kneeling there?
“
Ben did not want to relinquish his baby. He knew, despite his denials, that Joseph was dying. He had felt the boy slipping further away from him hour by hour. He looked into Adam’s pleading eyes and nodded slowly.
Joe did not stir as Adam carefully lifted him
away from
“All right, Paul. I’ll sleep. But not away from Joseph. We stay together. And you promise to wake me if…if..”
Adam interrupted. “
Ben smiled at Adam and rested his hand briefly on his oldest son’s cheek. “You are a fine son, Adam. I…I love you, boy.”
Adam nodded, his
father’s hand still warm on his cheek. “I love you too,
Paul stayed long enough to get Ben settled and to check on Eric. His fever was down. It looked like he had a simple cold. When Doc Martin left to go on his rounds; he promised Hop Sing that he would return later to check on everyone.
As he drove away, he knew that upon his return,
he would be filling out another death certificate for this family. He
sighed sadly. Sometimes, he hated being a doctor. Times like this
were the worst. He was weaponless in the fight to hold back death.
The shadow was falling across Joe’s life, and there was nothing that he could
do to prevent it.
Hop Sing had tucked a blanket around Joe, and then he went downstairs to his kitchen. In sad times, he took comfort in the warm room. It was here that he felt most at home, among his pots and pans. The little room was full of memories—happier memories of Missy Cartwright holding her baby and directing him in the proper way to prepare one of the French dishes that she was so fond of. He sniffed mightily and thought that it must be the onions that were making his eyes sting so. He sighed and began making preparations for a broth to tempt the appetites of Ben and Eric when they woke. He knew that Joe would recover. He had to.
Upstairs, Adam continued to rock Joe. The movement was making him sleepy, and he rested his head against the back of the rocker. It had been a wearisome two days, full of worry and grief, and he was having a hard time staying awake.
His eyes blinked more slowly, the rocker slowed as well, and after a minute, his eyes dipped closed and he slept.
He was dreaming. In his dream, he was fourteen again, and he was rocking Joe in Pa and Marie’s room. Joe was almost asleep. He had his blanket tucked in his hand and his thumb was securely anchored in his mouth. He smiled sleepily around his thumb at Adam, and squeezed his blanket in his fist. Adam smiled back and tickled Joe’s tummy a little. He heard the sweet sound of his brother’s laughter. When Adam stopped tickling, Joe cuddled closer and closed his eyes. He was still smiling when his body relaxed with a heaviness that only sleeping babies have. Adam felt a warm swell of pure love for this little boy. As he looked down at his sleeping brother, he heard Marie’s voice behind him.
“You are so good with your brothers, Adam. You will be a wonderful Papa. You have gotten him to sleep already. Merci, Adam.”
He twisted around to see her, surprised to hear her voice. But she was nowhere to be seen, and he knew, still in his dream, that he was dreaming. He knew that Marie was dead. Yet he could still hear her voice, growing more faint. He mumbled in his sleep to her. “I am so sorry Marie. Sorry….Ma. I…I should have called you Ma long ago…”
She seemed to whisper in his ear. “Adam. I love you. You are a wonderful boy, and I am proud that you are my son. I know that you will help your Pa care for Eric and Joseph. I know that you will…”
Her voice was gone now and Adam opened his eyes, startled to realize that he had fallen asleep. He looked down. Joe had been up on his shoulder, but he had slipped down onto his lap, and his little legs were tangled in the blanket and through the armrest spokes. His eyes were open, but he was blue now. He was no longer breathing.
“Oh God, No…” Adam whispered, half sobbing. He tried to jerk Joe up to his shoulder again, but the boy’s legs were still caught in the chair and blanket, and Joe’s stomach slammed into the armrest. The chair arm struck him just under his ribcage and Adam felt his little body spasm as Joe vomited a rush of thick green fluid out of his mouth and onto the floor. Adam quickly untangled him and grabbed the basin from off the dresser next to the rocker. He shoved it under Joe’s face in time to catch the rapidly thinning mess of fluid that Joe was coughing up. It smelled like onions. Joe sucked in huge gulps of air only to cough them back out again. Adam tilted Joseph down slightly to help him clear his throat. He rubbed Joe’s back and whispered.
“It’s O.K., buddy. Get it all out. You’ll feel better. It’s O.K., Adam’s got you. Your big brother’s got you.”
Joe shuddered, his coughs becoming less frequent. Adam put the basin down and reached over for the towel. He turned Joe to face him and then cleaned around his brother’s mouth. Joe looked up at him.
“Adam…I’m thirsty….Adam? Why are you crying?”
Joe scooted himself up closer to Adam’s face and patted his cheek with his left hand. He wiped the tears away. “Don’t cry, Adam. Mama said she had to go.” The boy’s chin trembled and large tears welled up in his own eyes. “Don’t cry.” He whispered.
Then Adam hugged Joe tightly to him and began to rock him slowly.
“Adam, will you rock me? From now on?” Joe was relaxing against him, molding his body to Adam’s as he succumbed to the exhaustion of his illness and his grief.
Adam swallowed thickly, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Yes, Joe. I’ll rock you from now on.”
Joseph smiled sadly, his lashes still held unshed tears. He was safe. His big brother was here, and his big brother would rock him. But, oh how he missed his Mama. He closed his eyes and felt the tears run down the side of his face, wetting Adam’s shirt. Adam’s hand brushed gently across his cheeks, catching some of the tears. Joe clasped his hand tightly.
The last thing Joe heard before he slipped into sleep was Adam singing to him. Softly, Adam sang the French lullabies that his Mama taught him. Adam sang and rocked until Joe relaxed completely. He sang, rocking his baby brother. He rocked and sang the French lyrics and watched Joe’s eyes move under the lids. He watched Joe dream innocent dreams while he sang.
Adam rocked and sang, thankful for every easy breath Joe breathed. He sang until he heard his Pa’s exclamation of joy, and felt Ben’s hand on his shoulder.
“Adam! He’s going to be all right. Oh, thank you Lord!”
Adam stopped singing then and smiled up at his Pa with blinding happiness. Ben sank to his knees in front of the rocker and gathered his oldest and youngest close in his arms, gently rocking back and forth with them both.
Still cuddling his sleeping brother, Adam laid his head on his Pa’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He was so tired.
Ben felt Adam relax against him, and he knew that he had fallen asleep. Gently, he pushed his eldest back against the rocker cushion and stood up shakily. He was weak with relief. Moments ago, when he had awakened to the sound of Adam’s clear tenor voice, he had thought that he heard Marie singing. Now, he looked down at his sleeping sons. Joe had strapped himself tightly around Adam’s middle, his good arm clutching his brother’s shirt even in his sleep. His face was relaxed and although his eyes were deeply shadowed, Ben could see that his fever had broken and his breathing was much less labored. Adam’s young face was lined with weariness, and Ben touched his cheek, tracing the line a tear had left. Adam stirred under his hand, and Ben decided to move his sons to the bed.
He laid them by Eric, and neither Adam nor Joe stirred. He stood looking at the three of them, his heart full of gratitude. They had lost Marie, but they still had each other.
After another minute of just enjoying the sight of his three sons sleeping, Ben knelt by the bed and thanked God for each of them.
In the middle of his prayer, Ben fell asleep. His head was resting by Adam. His arm was draped protectively over all three of his sons. When he had laid Adam down, Eric had rolled over next to his brother’s warmth. Joe still lay atop his eldest brother. Now, Ben’s arm covered all of them like a shield.
Hop Sing and Doc Martin found them like this a half an hour later. The two men stood by the bed a moment, enjoying the sight, and then Hop Sing walked the Doctor downstairs. On the way down, both of them marveled at the miracle. Both knew that no family deserved it more, and both thanked God for sparing Joe’s life. Hop Sing waved at the departing doctor, smiling at the memory of the scene upstairs. Smiling in his love for the honorable father and his three fine sons.
“I will take care of them, Missy.” He
whispered, and he smiled up at the sky as he closed the front door.