and he tells me you’re a strong woman. That bodes well. You can learn to do things right-handed and keep taking care of yourself – at least partway.”
Combing her hair. Braiding it. Pinning it up. Getting dressed . . . Simple, everyday personal tasks required both hands. Walking . . . Walking! Balancing herself on a wagon seat. Getting up on tiptoe to gather eggs hens laid in odd places. Myriad chores and tasks whirled around in her mind. All required her to be of sound constitution.
“ ’Tis a powerful sorrow these words brought with them.” Miss Rose – that’s what Todd called her – wiped away more tears for her. Voice low and caring, she continued. “The train comes through next week, and in that time, I’ll help all I can. Even more, though, a legion of prayers has been a-marching up to God’s holy throne room, imploring His Eternal Majesty to grant you recovery.”
Next week? That wouldn’t be nearly enough time to recuperate.
“I’m stepping out to give the both of you time together.”
What would become of the plan for her to help out on her son’s farm? All she’d be now was a burden. Todd hadn’t said a word, but that was his nature. It made her feel far worse.
“Son, what are we to do?”
Todd finally sat on the edge of the bed. Pressing both of her hands between his, she felt his strength seeping into her. “We’ll trust in God, Ma. He has never failed.”
“A lovely morning to you.” Maggie pulled opened the curtains and allowed the natural light into the room. “After three days of a fearsome storm – Paw-Paw said he’s not seen one that bad in all his years – well, the sunshine on the snow sets everything a-sparkle. Take a look-see.”
Mrs. Crewel drearily turned her head away. “Go pester someone else.”
Maggie took no offense at her patient’s rudeness. Quite often, folks had a few testy days after taking ill. “I already fed the men. Even that storm hasn’t kept them from accomplishing enough to warrant a pair of new toolboxes, and they’re still going strong. Today they’re reroofing sections of the barn. Mr. Valmer already reinforced Mr. Elding’s porch. You must be proud of that boy you reared.” Maggie slid a hand beneath the woman’s shoulders and pulled out the pillow.
“He sees a need and tends it.” Mrs. Crewel grabbed the pillow with her right hand. The two women stared at one another, sizing up the foe in the sudden tug-of-war.
“Ma’am, you stayed abed yesterday and had time to accustom yourself to the news. But the longer you laze, the less you’ll recover. I have breakfast here for you, too.” Having made her point, Maggie took full possession of the pillow.
Mrs. Crewel lay stubborn as a board nailed every two inches to a foundation. “I choked on water and broth. It’s no use trying anything more.”
“Once we kept fingers pressed to that side of your throat, you didn’t choke.” Maggie stuck the pillow against the headboard and tapped an arm of the chandelier. “Reach on up here with your good hand. Bend your good knee and push against the bed whilst I scoot you upward. We’ll work together, and you’ll be pulling your own weight.”
“I know I’m fat; you didn’t have to tell me. But it’s all the more reason why I won’t eat.”
“I spoke of responsibility, not weight. When you get to Texas, your son needs to rig up something similar. That way, as you start to regain use of your limbs, you can work the muscles for strength, as well.” Ignoring her patient’s grumbling, Maggie sat her against the headboard. “And now for a treat!”
Mrs. Crewel spied the invalid cup. “I’m not using that! I used one just like it to feed my babies.”
The device looked much like a teapot with the handle reglued to be at a forty-five-degree angle from the spout. Instead of a lid, half of the top remained open. “Nonsense. I’ll brace your throat muscles. You hold the cup and keep control of the flow.”
A truculent
Combing her hair. Braiding it. Pinning it up. Getting dressed . . . Simple, everyday personal tasks required both hands. Walking . . . Walking! Balancing herself on a wagon seat. Getting up on tiptoe to gather eggs hens laid in odd places. Myriad chores and tasks whirled around in her mind. All required her to be of sound constitution.
“ ’Tis a powerful sorrow these words brought with them.” Miss Rose – that’s what Todd called her – wiped away more tears for her. Voice low and caring, she continued. “The train comes through next week, and in that time, I’ll help all I can. Even more, though, a legion of prayers has been a-marching up to God’s holy throne room, imploring His Eternal Majesty to grant you recovery.”
Next week? That wouldn’t be nearly enough time to recuperate.
“I’m stepping out to give the both of you time together.”
What would become of the plan for her to help out on her son’s farm? All she’d be now was a burden. Todd hadn’t said a word, but that was his nature. It made her feel far worse.
“Son, what are we to do?”
Todd finally sat on the edge of the bed. Pressing both of her hands between his, she felt his strength seeping into her. “We’ll trust in God, Ma. He has never failed.”
“A lovely morning to you.” Maggie pulled opened the curtains and allowed the natural light into the room. “After three days of a fearsome storm – Paw-Paw said he’s not seen one that bad in all his years – well, the sunshine on the snow sets everything a-sparkle. Take a look-see.”
Mrs. Crewel drearily turned her head away. “Go pester someone else.”
Maggie took no offense at her patient’s rudeness. Quite often, folks had a few testy days after taking ill. “I already fed the men. Even that storm hasn’t kept them from accomplishing enough to warrant a pair of new toolboxes, and they’re still going strong. Today they’re reroofing sections of the barn. Mr. Valmer already reinforced Mr. Elding’s porch. You must be proud of that boy you reared.” Maggie slid a hand beneath the woman’s shoulders and pulled out the pillow.
“He sees a need and tends it.” Mrs. Crewel grabbed the pillow with her right hand. The two women stared at one another, sizing up the foe in the sudden tug-of-war.
“Ma’am, you stayed abed yesterday and had time to accustom yourself to the news. But the longer you laze, the less you’ll recover. I have breakfast here for you, too.” Having made her point, Maggie took full possession of the pillow.
Mrs. Crewel lay stubborn as a board nailed every two inches to a foundation. “I choked on water and broth. It’s no use trying anything more.”
“Once we kept fingers pressed to that side of your throat, you didn’t choke.” Maggie stuck the pillow against the headboard and tapped an arm of the chandelier. “Reach on up here with your good hand. Bend your good knee and push against the bed whilst I scoot you upward. We’ll work together, and you’ll be pulling your own weight.”
“I know I’m fat; you didn’t have to tell me. But it’s all the more reason why I won’t eat.”
“I spoke of responsibility, not weight. When you get to Texas, your son needs to rig up something similar. That way, as you start to regain use of your limbs, you can work the muscles for strength, as well.” Ignoring her patient’s grumbling, Maggie sat her against the headboard. “And now for a treat!”
Mrs. Crewel spied the invalid cup. “I’m not using that! I used one just like it to feed my babies.”
The device looked much like a teapot with the handle reglued to be at a forty-five-degree angle from the spout. Instead of a lid, half of the top remained open. “Nonsense. I’ll brace your throat muscles. You hold the cup and keep control of the flow.”
A truculent
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