As she made to leave the room, Miss Lily said, "I'll be going now. I won't be a party to watching this misguided travesty take place. But I'll make a kettle of soup and bring it before supper."
"Thank you, Miss Lily. And for staying the night. I covet your prayers for a miracle."
When Caroline closed the door behind her neighbor, she looked at John, seeking his reassurance. His face was grave.
"I can only do what seems best in keeping with my experience and training, Mrs. Ross. I can't perform your miracle."
Chapter Five
The day had been one of watching and waiting. The Lieutenant had bathed Danny in lukewarm water for a long time as the child lay shivering in the drafty room. Then she dressed him in clean undergarments and, as ordered, left him lying in his lethargic state without any cover. It seemed contrary to what was usually done for someone suffering from chills, but apparently the child had no ill effects from the treatment. His fits of coughing grew worse as night approached and he refused to eat any of the chicken soup Miss Lily brought over, although it was his favorite.
At suppertime, she and the Lieutenant satisfied their appetites with bowls of soup and more of her sourdough bread scantily spread with butter. Afterward, he ate a second piece of bread covered with the peach jam she brought from near-empty pantry shelves. She noticed again how eagerly he consumed his food and was certain the Union camp provisions were as scarce as her own. Feeding another mouth would tax her meager supplies, but no matter, if he could only help her child.
John Oldham now sat in a straight-backed chair near the fire. She sat in the rocker opposite him and felt herself nodding until he spoke her name.
Jerking back to full alertness, she gave him a worried look. "Sir, is anything—?"
"I didn't mean to startle you, Mrs. Ross. It's just that we need to talk about sleeping arrangements. And please, could you dispense with calling me sir?"
"Oh, forgive me, Lieutenant Oldham. I—"
"No, I meant you should call me John."
"Very well, Sir – uh – John, if that is what you prefer,"
"It is, and may I call you by your given name as well?
Caroline looked at her hands resting in her lap. She knew this would not be proper, but then having the man sleeping in her house wasn't proper either. "Yes, of course. Please do."
"Thank you, Caroline."
The way he said her name as he looked at her caused color to rise in her cheeks. He made it sound special, like the way he made her feel when he was looking at her that way. It had been a long while since she felt womanly, and it was both pleasing and scary.
"You can have the bedroom, but there's no bed in there," she took a deep breath. "I moved it in here when the war started and my husband left."
John nodded. "I can make do without a bed just fine. I brought my bedroll. But I've thought on it and believe I should put it in here by the fire, if you have no objection. That way I can tend the coals to be sure the room is kept warm and if your son should need me, I'll be close by."
"I can tend the fire. And see to Danny too, if he should wake."
"You need to rest, Caroline. You're near the point of exhaustion, and it would be better if you slept while he is sleeping. Then you will feel more able to nurse him tomorrow."
"But you—"
"I'm used to getting by on little sleep. And the heat from the fire will help the pain in my leg. The cold makes it worse."
"Then please do make a place to sleep by the fire." She supposed if a man was going to sleep in her house all night, it made little difference where he slept. But no one would be aware of that, except Miss Lily and surely the woman would understand. She hadn't told John Oldham she was a widow. She felt safer with him not knowing, though he had given her no reason to feel afraid of him. Still, she knew nothing about him, and it would be foolish to put herself at risk.
The lieutenant had been shown the privy earlier in the day, and he went outside before retiring. She took the opportunity to use the chamber pot in the bedroom and slip out of her crinolines. It would not be seemly to don her nightgown so she would make do as best she could in her chemise and dress.
Leaving the lamp burning low, Caroline crawled into bed with Danny. His skin felt warmer to her hand than it had earlier, and a new wave of fear engulfed her. She pulled up the quilt to cover her shoulders, being careful not to let it touch him. Normally, Danny would have snuggled close to her until he fell asleep, but tonight he lay without moving, as if unaware she lay beside him. Hearing the back door close, and footsteps on the stairs, Caroline was reassured by John Oldham's presence and drifted into a sound sleep.
* * * * *
The woman lay with her arm across her son's small frame in a gesture of protection. Though God knows, she couldn't protect him from the disease now in control of his body. John stood for a long moment looking at her. She was completely covered by the quilt but he'd bet his wages she was fully dressed beneath it. Her long wheat-colored hair curled loose about her face, and for the first time he saw what delicate features she had. There'd been no talk about her soldier husband, but he was a lucky man to have a son and a woman like her to come home to. At least, he had a son now, but whether that would be the case when the man returned remained in God's hands.
John banked the fire. It seemed strange being in a real house again, and he longed for the war to end and life to be the way it was before. Life will never be the same as it was before for me, he silently reminded himself, war or no war. He had burned all his bridges behind him when he decided to join the Union Forces. Now he had no home to go back to – but sadder still, no family.
Unfolding his bedroll, John placed it as near the fire as he could, and slid his long length inside. His leg ached something fierce since the ride from camp in the cold. It had been almost two years since the Christmas at Stones River. Three days of fighting and then getting hit with a minie-ball had been hell. If it hadn't been for the skill of Major Burke – Captain Burke then – he would have lost his leg. It was lucky Burke found him in that muddy cornfield and stopped the bleeding. The man was probably glad to render aid to one of his own, even though he risked censure from his Rebel captors. Maybe getting wounded had been lucky too. At least it gained him an assignment to the camp in Chattanooga when the able doctors moved on with General Thomas.
He dozed. The harsh coughing of the boy woke him. He untangled himself from his bedroll and reached him just as Caroline sat up and called his name.
"Here. Let's get him up." He took hold of Danny's heaving shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position. "Take a deep breath," he said quietly as he gently patted the boy's back.
The child tried to breathe, but it was obvious his air passage was blocked. Putting his hands under Danny's arms, he lifted him to a standing position on the bed and held him steady. Still there was no evidence of breathing and the child's eyes widened with desperation.
"Bring me your coal oil can," he ordered.
Without a word, she rushed into the kitchen and came back with a gallon can and unscrewed the cap.
"A spoon. Quick."
She grabbed a spoon and laid it in his hand. With quick movements, he tilted the can and carefully poured it full of the smelly liquid as she held her son upright. He stood for a moment, holding the spoon, and then with a steady hand, he placed it in the choking child's open mouth and slowly emptied its contents.
For an eternity, there was no sound in the room save the measured ticking clock on the mantel. Then with a faint gasp, Danny took in a shuddering breath – and then another.
Caroline wrapped her arms around her son and lifted her eyes to John, tears streaming down her cheeks. He wanted at that moment to enfold them both and assure them everything would be all right, that he would protect them forever. But that right did not belong to him. He could only bring them through this crisis, if Miss Lily's prayers for God's mercy were answered.
* * * * *
When Danny's breathin
g was more normal, he fell into an exhausted sleep. The two people standing by his bedside looked at each other with relief.
"You saved my son's life. How can I ever repay you, John?" Caroline shook her head in disbelief at what just happened. "But kerosene? How did you know—?"
"I didn't. But he was gone either way, so I took a chance and thank God it worked."
"I could never sleep now," Caroline said with a wry smile. "My heart is still trying to beat its way out of my chest. Do you mind if I sit by the fire for a while?"
"You don't need to ask my permission to sit by your own hearth, Caroline. I'm wide-awake as well. So I'll join you, if you don't mind."
Together they returned to the fireplace and John stirred the embers and added another lump of coal. He reached to move his bedroll away from the heat to make room for the chairs to be brought closer, but she stopped him.
"Leave it, please. I'd like to sit here this close to the flames." She dropped to her knees, settled herself on the lumpy bedding and adjusted her skirt, then motioned for him to join her.
John sat down a little distance from her and remained silent, too spent from the recent ordeal for conversation.
As they watched the flames rise from the coals, Caroline stole a glance at the man beside her. With his thick dark hair and strong jaw line, he could be considered handsome. She wondered what kind of life he'd had before the war. Where had he lived? Had he been married? Did he have children of his own?
"I know nothing about you, John Oldham. Who were you before you became Lieutenant Oldham in the Union Army?"
He waited so long to answer she thought her question must have seemed too personal and he chose not to respond to her prying.
"My family lives in the mountains of Kentucky, in a place called Olive Hill. I have two older brothers and they…are fighting with…General Lee."
Caroline tried not to express her surprise at his halting words. "I see."
After a moment, he continued, "I had a girl there. We planned to marry, and then the war started." He took a deep breath. "My brothers left to fight and I decided to follow, but not on the same side. My choice went against all my family believes – so they cut me off. To them, I'm as dead as if the minie-ball at Stone's River pierced my heart instead of my leg."
"I'm so sorry," Caroline said sincerely. "I shouldn't have asked."
"It's all right. I've never told anybody about this 'til now, but the telling feels good somehow." He looked at her intently. "My girl was loyal to the Confederate cause as well. When I joined up, she married someone else."
"Perhaps after the war your family…"
He gave a short laugh. "Not likely. Can you see two Rebel soldiers sitting down at my father's table with a brother who tended men that fought and killed their comrades? They want nothing more to do with me."
"Then if it meant the loss of all you hold dear, why did you make that choice?"
He looked at her with a mixture of pity and mild irritation. "I shouldn't expect you to understand, I guess. It doesn't seem right to me for one man to own another – or a great many others. And I never felt the Southern States should put slavery above loyalty to the Union and form another government. I couldn't in good conscience fight against my country. But I was a doctor and my duty was to heal the sick and save the wounded. It was just a matter of which side I'd perform my duty for."
"It took a brave man to give up everything for what you believe." Caroline smiled at him. "I can't agree with your choice, but I admire you for having the courage of your conviction." Sensing his discomfort in talking about his beliefs, she changed the subject. "How did you come to be a doctor, John?"
"Growing up, I always like to tend sick and wounded animals. My uncle was the only doctor for miles around our small community and he noticed. He took me on as his apprentice when I was old enough, and then he paid for my courses to learn more about medicine, thinking I'd take his place when he passed on." He shrugged. "Well, there's no hope of that now."
After a moment of silence, he asked, "What about you, Caroline? Tell me about your life before the war."
Should she tell him the truth? How could she not, when he had been so open with her, revealing all the hurt he lived with.
"Very well, I'll tell you. My family had a farm just outside the city and my older sister lives there now. I met and married Daniel Ross when I was sixteen. We lived with his folks who owned a general store over near Lookout Mountain and he worked there too. With his family's help, Dan was able to buy this place before Danny was born and we came to live upstairs. When the war began, the store supplies were needed for the soldiers, and we kept hoping the fighting would be over in a few months. But it wasn't, so Dan joined General Beauregard's forces at Shiloh." Here she stopped and took a deep breath. "That was in sixty-two and... He was killed at Chickamauga Creek in sixty-three."
"I didn't know. Why haven't you said, Caroline?"
"I – well, I just—"
"Thought it best not to tell me." He nodded his head. "To protect yourself from me?" Dark eyes bored into clear blue. "Do you mistrust me so much, Caroline?"
"No, it isn't that, not really." At a loss to explain, she stopped, gathering her thoughts. His words had been near the truth. She hadn't trusted him enough to admit she was a widow, for fear he would take advantage. "It's just that I don't trust any stranger since I've been alone."
He bowed his head and remained silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry if I've caused you worry when you had enough without this on your mind." He reached for her hand and she didn't withdraw it. "I would never harm you, Caroline, don't you know that?"
"I didn't know anything about you, John. I had to protect my son from anything happening to me."
"Well, of course you did. I just felt offended that you were afraid of me. But I see now, it isn't just me but all men who might harm you. We should not have waited so long to have this conversation."
"Yes, I suppose you're right." She smiled at him. "But we've seen to it now, and we know the truth."
John squeezed her hand gently. "Caroline, as long as we are telling the truth, I need to make you aware that Danny is likely to have another choking spell like this one. And if it is bad enough, I might have to perform a tracheotomy to allow him to breathe."
"A trache— what?"
"A tracheotomy. It means to make an opening in the throat below where a thick mucus membrane has closed off his breath."
"Oh, no, I don't think—"
"I've done this many times for soldiers. It's not as bad as it sounds. A tube is inserted to keep the passage open until the membrane dissolves. He's in the worst stage of the disease now, and in a day or two he should be better."
"Or—" She began to cry softly.
He put his arm around her and pulled her to him. Rocking her gently in his arms, he whispered, "Don't even think about that, Caroline. He's a tough little boy, and I'm betting he'll pull through."
"I couldn't bear it if he didn't," she whispered back.
With comforting words, he held her closer and placed a light kiss on her forehead. "Keep praying for your miracle and I'll try to make it happen, sweet Caroline. Now you'd better crawl back into bed and rest before the night is gone."
He stood and took both her hands, pulling her up to face him. For a moment they stood, bodies touching head to toe. Then with a resigned sigh, he released her and led her to the bed where her son lay sleeping.
Caroline crawled under the heavy quilt, her heart still fluttering in her chest. She touched her forehead where John Oldham's lips kissed her. She thought of how his body felt next to her own, and how she'd wanted to press against him. She wondered if he'd wanted that too. Was it wrong to wish he'd put her arms around her and kissed her mouth? Sleep was a long time coming.
Chapter Six
John shivered in the sharp wind as he crossed the narrow yard from the privy behind the store. New snow had fallen in the night, covering the path he'd made. After breakfast, he would shovel
it again. He studied the gray skies and thought his efforts would be futile from the looks of it. However, he would be going back to camp tomorrow, or the day after, if Danny was better. He'd told Sergeant Johnson he expected to be gone only a few days and there should be a turning point, one way or the other, by then.
Stomping the snow off his boots, John opened the back door and as he started up the steps, he heard voices coming from above and stopped.
"I tell you, Caroline, it isn't decent to have a man sleeping in this place, with you a lone widow. People are sure to talk and once your reputation is ruined, there is no way to repair it."
"I'm aware of that, Miss Lily. But John Oldham has already saved my little boy from choking to death and that is what matters. As long as Danny is in need of a doctor and the Lieutenant can stay, he is welcome to do so. And to rest your mind, he has behaved toward me with propriety at all times."
John thought of the way he held her last night, and the chaste kiss he'd planted on her forehead. And how he'd wanted to take her to his bedroll and make love to her. He was glad she could face her neighbor with a clear conscience.
"I've had my say, Caroline, so I'll go now, before he comes back inside. And I just hope the man leaves for good before tongues start wagging."
"Thank you for warning me, Miss Lily. I know you mean it for my own good."
The upper door opened wider and the woman appeared on the narrow landing. As soon as she turned, she saw him and froze.
"Good morning, Miss Lily." He stepped aside and gestured for her to come down. "You're out early today."
She stiffened. "I was just bringing over some hot biscuits and honey to tempt Danny's poor appetite."
"That's mighty nice of you, though I don't really think there's anything wrong with his appetite, Miss Lily. He just can't make himself swallow past his sore throat. But the honey ought to slide down real easy."
As he spoke, she paused at the bottom step and he reached to assist her but she jerked away.
"The snow is pretty deep out there. May I walk you home, ma'am?"