Settling The Score. George McLane Wood. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: George McLane Wood
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781633388710
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feeling poorly, but seeing your sweet face, sonny boy, makes your mama feel so much better.”

      “I’m glad, Mama. Papa went for Dr. Bass while you were sleeping, and I think I heard ’em ride up in Doc Bass’s buggy.”

      “Give the good doctor the respect he’s entitled to, sonny. Call him Dr. Bass, and never Doc Bass. Doc sounds so common, and he is not common. He’s an educated man, and a member of the medical profession, you understand, sonny?”

      “Yes, Mama, I understand. Oh, I hear them coming in the front door now.”

      Chapter Two

      Thomas Nelson, along with Dr. Bass, took off their raincoats and preceded at once to Emma’s sleeping room.

      Thomas had gone for the doctor before daybreak. They’d returned in the rain and now Jeff was told by his papa to leave his mama’s room. Jeff, with an ear turned toward the partially closed door, was listening as his mama was answering the old doctor.

      “Does this hurt, Emma?”

      “Not so much.”

      “How about here?”

      “Not much.”

      “Can you feel it when I press on you here?”

      “Not so much, Doctor. I don’t feel so much pain right now. It just feels kinda numb.”

      “Why can’t she feel all them presses and mashes, Doctor?” Thomas asked.

      “Yes, why can’t I?”

      “Thomas,” the old doctor croaked, and as he lowered his voice, he moved over and pulled the door completely shut, “you sit there on the bed beside Emma. I have my opinion what’s ailing Emma, and it’s gonna bad hurt you both.”

      Jeff’s parents quickly looked at one another and waited for their old doctor to speak. He slowly folded his stethoscope and put it in his black bag. They kept watching his face as he pulled up a straight-backed chair, sat down in it, crossed his legs, and faced them. He’d diagnosed in his mind Emma’s apparent ailment.

      “Emma, Thomas, there’s times like right now, I surely wish I’d become a schoolteacher like my mama or a minister of the cloth like my old pappy wanted me to be.”

      “Whatever are you tryin’ to tell us, Dr. Bass?” Thomas managed to say as he felt Emma grip his arm muscle tightly.

      “Emma, my child, you have a growth, and it’s way down deep inside you where your womanhood is. That’s why you’re losing some blood from where you let go of your water.”

      “Can you make her well, Doctor? Can’t you make the blood stop?”

      “I don’t know how to do that, Thomas. I wished I did. Her sickness is inside her. I suspect that growth is way deep down in her body where her babies have nested. And I fear it is a bad growth, one that won’t go away. Maybe if we were in a big city, with the right kind of medicine and knowledgeable medical help, we might remove that thing before it grows worse.”

      “So where do we go from here, Dr. Bass?” Emma asked as she felt that cold knot deep down beneath her stomach.

      “I’m sorry, Emma. I do believe if it’s a fatal growth, and it’ll be the cause of your demise, my child, and I can’t do a damn thing to prevent it. This old man wishes he could offer you a cheerier outlook. It’s too bad we live in such a small community. Maybe Thomas could take you to a big city, like Chicago or St. Louis, and find a doctor who can help you?”

      “No, you know we can’t afford to do that, Dr. Bass,” Emma replied.

      Thomas, sitting be his wife, began crying, wailing loudly, as he pleaded, “O God, please help us, please don’t let her die. Dear God, I need her here, God. Jeff and me, we need her, God.”

      Tears fell from Jeff’s eyes as he listened to his papa crying from the other side of the door. Did Dr. Bass say his mother would die? “No way,” he murmured to himself. “She couldn’t die, my mama could never be that sick!”

      Emma put her arms around her husband and kissed his tear streaked cheeks. “Hush now, my dearest, hush up, we’ve already had us many good years together. Now this may be the time for me to go on and for you to stay behind and pull our wagon all by yourself. I know you, my husband, you can do it. Now you go on and make our Jeffery some breakfast flapjacks. I want to talk to the good doctor alone, and after he eats, you send our sonny to me. I want him to lie by my side for a time.”

      After Thomas had left the room, Emma asked, “Doctor, will it be a painful death?”

      “If it’s what I think it is, I’m afraid it will, my child, but I’ll leave a big bottle of painkillers with you and when your pain does begin, you take a big swallow of my medicine to make that old pain go away. I’ll be back to check on you first of next week. I need to go down the creek a way and deliver some babies to Mrs. Olson. I believe she’s going to birth three of them this time. You be a good girl, Emma.” He patted her arm. “Get your rest like a good girl and I’ll see you soon.”

      Dr. Bass set the purple bottle of laudanum on Emma’s bedside table, closed his bag, and left the room. Bidding Thomas and Jeff goodbye and promising to see them early Monday morning, Dr. Bass went out their door, climbed into his buggy, turned his old mare, Molly, around, and headed down the dirt road toward some other sick person’s home. Thomas had followed the doctor outside, untied his gray mule, and walked her back to the barn. She’d been tied behind Dr. Bass’s buggy.

      Later, Jeffery opened his mama’s door and walked over to her bed. “Hi, my darling, lay down beside your mama, and let’s take a nap together like we used to when you were my little-bitty boy.” Jeff lay down by his mama, put his arm around her waist, laid his head on her shoulder, and closed his eyes. Emma smiled. Her Jeffery was such an affectionate lad. She hated to go off and leave them. Her two baby daughters, three-year-old Edith, who’d caught diphtheria, and tiny, stillborn Emily, both her girl babies, their daddy had lain them to rest safely under the shade of their mulberry tree out by the well. Maybe her good Lord, Jesus, would allow her to see both her babies when she passed on; Emma sure did hope so. She snuggled closer to her son, closed her eyes, and slept.

      Chapter Three

      Pain woke her. Jeff was gone, and it was dark. Her groin was on fire. Emma swung her feet off the bed and reached for the purple bottle; she pulled the cork and took two big swallows. It numbed her tongue and throat. She corked the bottle and set it back on her table. The room blurred as she stood. “Thomas!” she yelled.

      Her husband yanked open her door. “Yes, darling, what is it?”

      “I need to make water, help me to my bedside bucket, please.”

      “Right away, Emma. Here, lean on my shoulder, darling.” Thomas helped Emma sit on the chamber pot, and he waited until Emma was finished.

      “And now help me into my kitchen and brew me some coffee, please.” Thomas helped her into her kitchen and sat her down in her breakfast chair.

      Jeff looked up at his mama when she entered the kitchen. “Hi, Mama.” He watched his papa help her sit down at their long table.

      “Evening darling, y’all had your supper yet?” she asked.

      “Yeah, last night, we did, and we’re about to make our breakfast now. You hungry, honey?” asked Thomas.

      “You saying I slept all day and night and didn’t know it?”

      “You did. We was real quiet, Mama, so’s not to wake you. Me and Papa slept in my bed, didn’t we, Papa?”

      “We e’nuff did. Now about breakfast?” Thomas queried as he set Emma down a mug of steaming coffee.

      “Let me think about it while I sip my coffee. Right this minute I’m not hungry. What are y’all having?”