Page 89 - Fever 1793

with the last of the molasses, then fell asleep as their skin cooled gently.
A messenger from Joseph arrived at midday bearing fresh eggs, pumpkins, three kinds of bread, and a joint of beef. Farmers had come back into town following the frost, and their prices dropped as quickly as the temperature. The messenger cautioned us to stay away from the center of town for another week. There were sure to be new fever cases until summer’s grip was well and truly broken.
Eliza told me to eat slowly or I would be sick again. For a change, I listened to her. We fed the children small bits of meat and warm cider. Eliza and I shared a loaf of bread at the kitchen table. Never had such a plain meal brought such satisfaction.
When the children fell asleep after the meal, I took a nap even though it was the middle of the afternoon. I woke to the sound of heavy furniture being dragged across the floor.
“Eliza, what in the name of heaven?”
Eliza looked up. She had pushed the chest of drawers half the distance to the kitchen.
“I’ve been watching the signs. The way the birch leaves flip in the breeze, the shape of the clouds, and
the color of the sun now that it’s setting. I predict another frost tonight. We need to get all the furniture outside and expose it to the cold. It’s the only way to destroy the pestilence. Come and help me with this chest.”
I thought it was a ridiculous notion, but I helped her carry the furniture we could handle outside. The children watched us as if it were completely normal to set furniture outside. Their fevers were broken and their stomachs full. They slept for hours, woke for food, then went back to sleep.
Joseph himself arrived the next morning with the news that the market had reopened. The twins and Nell were resting on the mattress under the cherry tree when he strode across the yard and took all three in his arms. Eliza and I let our tears fall without shame.
Joseph opened the small sack he carried. He took out tops for the boys and a small doll for Nell, toys he had made for them by himself. As the children tried to spin the tops on the lumpy mattress, Joseph joined us on the porch.
He took both Eliza’s hands and mine and held them in his. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for giving me back my boys.”
“Balderdash,” I said. “Nothing could keep those rapscallions down for long.”
“Pour yourself some cider and sit with us,” said Eliza.
We sat down comfortably and watched the children play. I poured a second mug of cider.
“You’ll hear from your mother soon, I wager,” Joseph said.
Eliza shot her brother a warning look, but he ignored it.
“If I were you, I’d head down to the market,” he continued. “That’s where all the best gossips in town
have gathered.”
I glanced at Eliza. “May I go?”
“You don’t need my permission,” Eliza said. She was right. I could choose for myself.
The market seemed like a festival, its stalls overflowing with food and rejoicing. It was noisier than ever before, talk, talk, talk, friends sharing the news, overblown laughter, strong-lunged farmers bellowing their wares. A welcome wave of noise and good cheer.
I drifted from stall to stall, eavesdropping on good news and bad. Most of the conversations were about lost relatives and friends. Yellow fever had scattered the residents of Philadelphia to the four winds. No one could guess how long it would take until everyone was accounted for.