Read Online Skip Rock Shallows by Jan Watson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jan Watson
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space. It was no use. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bury her past. Like the stench of rotten fruit, it wouldn’t be ignored.
Feeling abandoned in an unfamiliar place, as unseen walls closed in on her, she panicked and fled. The canteen bounced against her hip, pulling her back to the present. Her anger flared. She’d be tarred and feathered before she would run this time. Instead she pulled up some Corbett grit and shouted, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” Shaking her fist in the face of all fear, she marched right back to the tulip tree.
“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,’” she recited as she skirted the trunk of the tree. “Thank You, Jesus,” she prayed as her emotions calmed.
Her reward was indeed on the far side of the tulip poplar. A steady stream of water gushed from the base of a rock- and grass-covered hillock. Gray-green lichens and tiny, fossilized shells dotted the surface of the centuries-old stones covering the knoll. Enchanted, Lilly knelt and wet her face in the spring before filling her canteen. The icy water felt and tasted delicious, a rare treat on a summer’s day.
A child popped his head above the knoll. At least Lilly thought it was a boy. Maybe it was the bowl-shaped haircut. As soon as she spied him, he disappeared. Before she could react, he popped up again and did the same maneuver at least half a dozen times before she darted around the hill and caught him in his game. She caught him, but he stunned her.
There was something dreadfully wrong with the lad. His bare chest and arms were splotched with large reddish-purple dots—like hemorrhagic spots of petechiae magnified a dozen times. Her mind searched for answers. The usually pinprick dots of petechiae were indicative of blood-clotting disorders, severe fevers, and—oh, surely not—typhus.
As soon as the boy realized Lilly was on his side of the hill, he laughed and dashed away. Lilly gave chase, discarding each hypothesis as she went. He was too vibrant to be very ill. Winded, she slowed her pace and, instead of chasing the boy, followed the runnels in the grass left by his flying feet.
Soon she came to a meadow rimmed by the forest. Wildflowers of every sort grew there in wild abandon. Smack in the middle of the meadow was a tumble-down cabin with a wide plank porch that listed to one side like a boat in a storm. And smack in the middle of the porch was a bearded man holding a shotgun with the barrel pointed her way.
“Stop where ye are!” he said in a voice as deadly as the gun.
Lilly didn’t have to be told twice. She stood stock-still at the edge of the yard.
“State your business,” he said with a slight wave of the gun as if she needed encouragement. “If’n you’re with the gov’ment, I’ll finish you off where you stand.”
“I was following the boy,” Lilly said. “I’m a doctor.”
“Ain’t no such thing as a woman doctor,” the man said with a guffaw. “’Sides, we ain’t got no call for any doctoring.”
The man weaved or the gun weaved; Lilly wasn’t sure which. She held her doctor’s bag at chest level. “Is your boy sick, mister?”
The man yelled over his shoulder, “Cleve! Get out here!”
The boy popped out of the open door. “Yeah, Daddy?”
“Air ye sick?”
“No, sir.”
Lilly noticed odd circles under the lad’s eyes. They were the same alarming color as the rash on his chest and arms.
“He ain’t sick. Be on your way.”
A woman appeared in the doorway. A fretful toddler straddled her hip, and she was obviously close to term with another child. “Hiram, you loggerdy head,” she barked. “Put that gun away and ask our guest in. Honestly, you got the manners of a porcupine.” She pinched the boy’s earlobe. “You been aggravating the lady, Cleve?”
“No, ma’am.” He hopped around the porch while rubbing his ear. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!”
The man staggered a little as he broke the shotgun
Feeling abandoned in an unfamiliar place, as unseen walls closed in on her, she panicked and fled. The canteen bounced against her hip, pulling her back to the present. Her anger flared. She’d be tarred and feathered before she would run this time. Instead she pulled up some Corbett grit and shouted, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” Shaking her fist in the face of all fear, she marched right back to the tulip tree.
“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,’” she recited as she skirted the trunk of the tree. “Thank You, Jesus,” she prayed as her emotions calmed.
Her reward was indeed on the far side of the tulip poplar. A steady stream of water gushed from the base of a rock- and grass-covered hillock. Gray-green lichens and tiny, fossilized shells dotted the surface of the centuries-old stones covering the knoll. Enchanted, Lilly knelt and wet her face in the spring before filling her canteen. The icy water felt and tasted delicious, a rare treat on a summer’s day.
A child popped his head above the knoll. At least Lilly thought it was a boy. Maybe it was the bowl-shaped haircut. As soon as she spied him, he disappeared. Before she could react, he popped up again and did the same maneuver at least half a dozen times before she darted around the hill and caught him in his game. She caught him, but he stunned her.
There was something dreadfully wrong with the lad. His bare chest and arms were splotched with large reddish-purple dots—like hemorrhagic spots of petechiae magnified a dozen times. Her mind searched for answers. The usually pinprick dots of petechiae were indicative of blood-clotting disorders, severe fevers, and—oh, surely not—typhus.
As soon as the boy realized Lilly was on his side of the hill, he laughed and dashed away. Lilly gave chase, discarding each hypothesis as she went. He was too vibrant to be very ill. Winded, she slowed her pace and, instead of chasing the boy, followed the runnels in the grass left by his flying feet.
Soon she came to a meadow rimmed by the forest. Wildflowers of every sort grew there in wild abandon. Smack in the middle of the meadow was a tumble-down cabin with a wide plank porch that listed to one side like a boat in a storm. And smack in the middle of the porch was a bearded man holding a shotgun with the barrel pointed her way.
“Stop where ye are!” he said in a voice as deadly as the gun.
Lilly didn’t have to be told twice. She stood stock-still at the edge of the yard.
“State your business,” he said with a slight wave of the gun as if she needed encouragement. “If’n you’re with the gov’ment, I’ll finish you off where you stand.”
“I was following the boy,” Lilly said. “I’m a doctor.”
“Ain’t no such thing as a woman doctor,” the man said with a guffaw. “’Sides, we ain’t got no call for any doctoring.”
The man weaved or the gun weaved; Lilly wasn’t sure which. She held her doctor’s bag at chest level. “Is your boy sick, mister?”
The man yelled over his shoulder, “Cleve! Get out here!”
The boy popped out of the open door. “Yeah, Daddy?”
“Air ye sick?”
“No, sir.”
Lilly noticed odd circles under the lad’s eyes. They were the same alarming color as the rash on his chest and arms.
“He ain’t sick. Be on your way.”
A woman appeared in the doorway. A fretful toddler straddled her hip, and she was obviously close to term with another child. “Hiram, you loggerdy head,” she barked. “Put that gun away and ask our guest in. Honestly, you got the manners of a porcupine.” She pinched the boy’s earlobe. “You been aggravating the lady, Cleve?”
“No, ma’am.” He hopped around the porch while rubbing his ear. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!”
The man staggered a little as he broke the shotgun
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