Page 59 - Fever 1793

Mothers shift and blue-and-white striped overskirt fit better than I had imagined. They were made of cotton, spun fine and tightly woven, and felt as light as silk after wearing my dirt-encrusted homespun for so long. I twirled around the room, ready for a ball, curtsying to the east corner, and then the west. This would suit me fine.
It was time to wake Grandfather. Too much sleep could be as bad as not enough, and I needed his help in the garden. He was sleeping on his back, his arms thrown to either side. His chest rattled with every breath, and his face was the color of spoiled cream. Perhaps we should have found a way to stay at Bush Hill. He still wasn’t over his cough. Mrs. Flagg would have welcomed the chance to dote on him for a few days. But she had other responsibilities. I could take care of Grandfather.
I shook his shoulder gently. “Grandfather, time to wake. I found a few things to eat, and we have much to do today.”
He opened one eye. “I’ll have a dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, and basket of plums, please,” he mumbled.
“Your stomach will feel better if you don’t talk about food,” I replied. “But we’ll find something today.”
I floated down the stairs, clean, fresh, and hungry. Silas trailed behind me, swatting at the edge of my skirt.
“I don’t suppose you could be useful and catch me a bite to eat,” I said. “No mice, mind you. A fat chicken would be lovely, or a length of sausage, or beef stew . . . Listen to me. I’m as bad as Grandfather!”
I set a small pot of water to boil and added the beans and turnip. The thieves hadn’t bothered to take any of the herbs drying overhead. I sprinkled parsley and sweet thyme into the water.
While the soup cooked, I swept the kitchen floor clean of the broken crockery. It made so much noise I did not hear Grandfather enter the room.
“It sounds like you’re tearing the house apart board by board,” he said. He squinted. “Excuse me, Miss. Have you seen my granddaughter, Mattie? She must be around here somewhere. Filthy little urchin, she is, wearing a grimy dress and a ragged cap.”
“Get on with you,” I said. “There’s no call to be rude, and the bath water is still warm, if you don’t mind it gritty.”
I’m a soldier, girl. I’ve bathed in icy streams.”
I interrupted. “Frozen lakes and rushing rivers. I know, a real soldier doesn’t need hot water. But I don’t want you smelling like a real soldier, thank you very much. Especially in this heat. Once you’ve finished bathing, put your dirty clothes in the water. I’ll wash them later.”
Grandfather bathed quickly and was polite about his breakfast soup. It was slightly better than warm water with weeds in it, but not by much.
“Don’t suppose there’s any way we could convince Eliza to come back right away, is there?” Grandfather asked as he forced himself to swallow another spoonful.
“That wouldn’t be right,” I said. “I’m sure she’s helping the people who are truly needy, folks sick with fever who can’t care for themselves. We shouldn’t be greedy.”
“Is there much food in the garden?” he asked.
“A little,” I answered. “We need to find someone who will sell us some bread and meat.”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t like the idea of leaving the house,” he said. “The world out there
has turned upside down.” He unbuttoned his top button and coughed. “What if we were gone and Lucille came by with a wagon searching for us? No. Were safe here, and I don’t want to hear any more talk of venturing outside, unless it’s to the garden. We’ll stick to home until we don’t have a choice.”
I spent the afternoon watering and watering and watering. Grandfather tried to help, but his left arm wouldn’t listen to him. As soon as he stepped into the sunshine, his face turned that terrible shade of red