Page 57 - Fever 1793

“Oh, my gracious.”
The garden looked dead. Insects had devoured most of the leaves and vegetables, leaving behind skeletons of stems and branches. Weeds had exploded between the neat rows. All those weeks of backbreaking work had been for nothing. Hot tears threatened, but my grumbling stomach was more painful.
I drew a bucket of water from the well and used the dipper to drink as much as I could hold. I spilled the dipper over the top of my head, shivering as the cold water trickled down my back. I carried the bucket inside and poured a mug for Grandfather. He was already asleep by the time I entered his room. His color was better, and he was snoring like a barn full of plow horses. I set the mug on the floor and tiptoed back downstairs.
The ground was baked too hard to use the hoe. I decided to pull up what I could and hope to find something edible overlooked by varmints. A cloud of bugs swarmed around my face every time I touched a withered plant. I weeded the bean patch and found a few hidden string beans for my efforts. The cabbage plants were so infested with worms, I couldn’t bring myself to look at them.
Every few minutes, I crawled under the cherry tree for shade and another cool drink of water. Ants covered the cherries that lay on the ground, but I found enough on the tree to settle my stomach. Silas climbed up to a cozy nook between two branches and went to sleep.
“I’ll not forget all your help, wretched cat,” I muttered as I knelt in the squash patch.
An hour later, I examined my treasure on the kitchen table: two handfuls of green beans, four stunted crook-neck squash that had been nibbled by mice, and a few sour cherries. I divided the meal into two piles: one for me, and one for grandfather.
“Not exactly a banquet, is it?” I asked Silas.
Silas jumped on the table and lapped the water in my mug.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I said as I lifted Silas off the table. “We still have rules, even if Mother isn’t here
to enforce them. Cats eat on the floor.” I poured a bit of water into what was left of a bowl for him.
I tasted a green bean. Tough as leather, but not as tasty. I suddenly remembered what was missing. I
pushed the bean to the side of my mouth and bowed my head.
“Thank you, Father, for keeping me alive. Please punish the terrible people who wrecked our home
and stole our food. No, that’s not right, they were probably hungry. Punish them a little bit for taking so much. They should have left something behind, and they had no reason to break things. Deal with them as you see fit. Please take care of Mother and Eliza and Grandfather.” I sat in silence for a moment. “And Nathaniel.”