FOUR
ooooooooooooooo
Caroline Ingalls stopped in the short hall outside of the bedroom she shared with her husband and sucked in a breath, fighting with her temper. It had been a day since Charles and Laura had been brought home by Doctor Baker and Isaiah and she was next to out of her mind! Her mother had warned her that men made terrible patients and she'd learned how true that was in the years since she had married.
But today took the cake!
Holding the breath, she counted to ten and reminded herself to be thankful that she had a husband to be angry with at all. Charles could easily have died if God hadn't sent the doctor and their friend to the house when He did. The break was a compound fracture, with the tibia poking through the skin. Hiram had set it, but the nature of the injury had occasioned additional treatment and he had had to pull the lower fragment away from the upper as well, which had been very painful. Doctor Baker had chosen to cast the injury, applying plaster of Paris powder to the bandages after he wet them. He thought it best to keep Charles' leg as immobile as possible. There was some infection, though Hiram assured her it was nothing to worry about. The fever would abate in a few days – if Charles did as instructed and stayed in bed. Unfortunately, the stress of the accident had also brought on a mild case of what Carrie had, so her obstinate husband was coughing and sneezing and, well, fit to be tied. Caroline ran a hand along her forehead and then through her hair.
If only she had that much rope...
Letting the breath out, she continued down the hallway. She knew, of course, what she would find when she entered the room and that was what she found – Charles, sitting on the edge of the bed – with his injured leg hanging down just like the doctor said it shouldn't be –pulling on his shirt. When she saw him struggling, her anger faded. He looked like a willful little boy with his brown curls dangling down before his eyes and a weary but determined look on his face.
"I would ask what you're doing, but I can see plain enough," she said with a sigh.
He looked up abruptly. Apparently he hadn't known she was there.
"Caroline," Charles said in that way he had, like she was a little girl who wasn't old enough to understand, "I can't lay here. There's work to do."
"And you won't be able to do it in the future if you reinjure your leg and end up with a limp, or the ague takes hold and lays you low," she replied, using 'her' tone that sounded like a school teacher talking to a recalcitrant student. "You know Doctor Baker told you to rest and keep that leg up for at least two days."
He stopped with his shirt half on and half off. "Doc Baker gets paid for tellin' people what to do. I don't. I need to work."
She'd used a good third of their Christmas savings to pay the doctor, and another third of it for food and necessities. Charles had intended to head into town the day after the accident to buy supplies. They were very low. That left a few dollars and both he and she knew the rest of it would have to go to pay for everyday expenses.
There would be nothing extra for Christmas this year.
"Charles," she said and waited. When he looked at her, she went on. "I know what you're thinking and we don't need presents. I have enough for the girls' stockings between what we've already picked up and the things I've made. Besides, that's not what Christmas is about. It's about Christ first and then, family." She drew in a deep breath as she stared at him, thinking again how close she had come to losing him. "My present this year is that both you and Laura are alive."
He was staring back, a dogged look on his face. Then, suddenly it softened. "How is Half-pint?" he asked. "I haven't seen her today."
There were wounds like the break in her husband's leg, and then there were other wounds. "She's doing her chores." Caroline hesitated. "And most of yours."
"What? She's too small for –"
He was trying to rise. Crossing over to him, the blonde woman put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back to the bed. "Charles, she's making recompense in the only way she knows how. You have to let her."
"Recompense?" he frowned. "You got a five dollar word for that, school teacher?"
Caroline laughed. "She's making up for what she did."
He shook his head. "Laura didn't do anything. I was the mule-headed one should have known better."
She reached out and ran a hand through the tangle of curls on his forehead, brushing them back, and then took a seat on the bed beside him, her thoughts turning to that terrible night when she and Mary had kept a vigil by the fire, neither one of them daring to go to their beds and sleep. Hiram and Isaiah had pulled away in the wagon at approximately eleven o'clock. At four in the morning a strident rap on the door brought them both out of the restive slumber they had fallen into sitting upright in chairs. Isaiah had been the first through the door. He was carrying Laura and she'd feared the worst, but a smile and a shake of his head had assured her that her daughter was all right. Moving past her, he went to Carrie's bed – which was the closest – and placed her middle child in it. Laura had been exhausted and hadn't awakened when Isaiah laid her down. Next came Doctor Baker with Charles. Her husband was pale and breathing hard; his cheeks bright red with both the cold and a rising fever. All four were soaked through from the snow. While Mary checked on her sister, she'd slipped in on her husband's other side and aided Hiram in getting Charles to their bed. The blood-soaked binding on his leg had frightened her, but the doctor assured her it was a clean break and would be easily mended in time.
And then he had ordered Charles off his feet.
Reaching out, she took her husband's hand in her own. "You and I may know that Laura didn't do anything wrong, but she feels differently. And, in a way, I understand. You told her the tree was not the best one to choose and she made you feel guilty so you would do what she wanted."
He thought a moment and then grinned. "I guess she was bein' a mite ornery."
Caroline laughed. "A mite. Just like her father. Although you are at least three mites!"
Charles was silent for a moment. "Caroline, I..." he began.
"Say it," she encouraged softly.
He blew out a sigh. "I feel like a failure."
"Oh, Charles!" She hugged him. "You are anything but!"
He pursed his lips as he gave a little shrug. "I can't provide for you and the girls."
"Nonsense. We have a roof over our heads, food for our stomachs, and more love than most."
"I know, but..." He looked at her, those green eyes of his so sincere. "...I want you to have, well, the little extra things that make life easier."
"I know you do," she said, leaning into his shoulder. "But we don't need them."
"It's not about need, Caroline, that's what I mean. " He snorted. "Or maybe it is – I need to show you all what you mean to me, especially at Christmas." Her husband looked down at the cast firmly fixed on his leg. "It'll be all I can do to milk the cow with this thing on, let alone work at carpentry or in the fields."
"Charles, you have nothing to prove. We all know how much you love us." She paused. "Although, I think maybe Laura needs some reassurance."
He began to put on his shirt again. "I'll just go out to the barn and talk to – "
"Oh, no, you won't!" she said, catching his arm before he could thrust it into the sleeve. "I'll find a reason to send her in here." Caroline held up two fingers. "Two days, Charles. That's what Hiram said. Two days and not one less. Now you lay back down and get your leg up."
Her handsome husband's lips quirked with a smile. "Is that an order, Missus Ingalls?"
"Yes, it is, Mister Ingalls." She shook her head. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"
Without warning, he caught her chin in his fingers and gave her a quick kiss. "Just what you been doin'. Seems to work just fine."
Rising, she waited until he had adjusted his position and then helped Charles swing his injured leg up and onto the bed. As he did, beads of perspiration broke out on his brow.
"Are you in pain?" she asked, concerned.
His dark brown eyebrows danced. "A mite."
"Just one?" she admonished.
"Well, maybe two or so." Charles met her steady, challenging gaze. "I'm all right, Caroline. Really. It's no worse than what I've had before. It's Laura I'm worried about."
She didn't let on, but he had a right to be.
Laura's pain was at least a ten.
oooooooooooooooo
"You don't have to be so grouchy!" Mary declared. "I just asked you if I could get by so I could get a pail."
Laura was standing with a pitchfork in her hands. It was too big for her, but she didn't care. She'd been cleaning out Pat and Patty's stall since her Pa couldn't do it. Just like she'd been doin' all his other chores. It helped with the guilt she was feelin' for causin' his accident.
A little.
"Well, if you can't see that a body is busier than a cow's tail in fly time, then it serves you right for gettin' shouted at!" she replied sharply.
"I told you I'd help," Mary countered.
"I don't need your help!" she snapped as she turned back to her work. "I can do it all by myself."
"Look, Laura, I understand that you feel responsible for Pa being laid up, but –"
Her little form went rigid. She pitched the tool to the floor. "I am responsible! Can't you and everybody else get that through your thick heads!?" She pointed to her chest. "It's because of me! It's because of me that Pa can't work and Ma has too much to do and nobody is going to get any presents for Christmas 'cause all of the Christmas money is gonna have to go for food and bills!" She was breathing hard. Tears streaked down her cheeks. "Carrie ain't old enough, but I know you hate me for it and so do Ma and...Pa!"
"Laura."
Her mother's voice froze her to the spot. Laura looked at Mary, who had a stunned expression on her face, and then lowered her head to look at the tool lying on the floor.
"Mary," their mother said as she came into the barn, "will you go check on your father and make sure he's still in bed?"
Her sister shot her a look and then nodded her head. "Yes, Ma'am."
Ma watched her go before turning back to her. "Laura?"
She had to look up. "Yes, Ma'am?"
Her mother held her hand out. "Please, come over here and sit with me."
Ma didn't sound mad, just kind of...sad. Doing as she was told, the little girl took the older woman's hand and followed her over to a hay bale. As they sat, her mother's gaze went to the abandoned pitch fork.
"You've been working very hard," Ma said, which was not what she'd expected.
"Yes, Ma'am, I have. There's... Well, there's things need done and Pa can't do them 'cause of –."
"Because of you?"
She nodded.
Her mother circled her shoulders with her arm. "Laura, I am not going to diminish your efforts to make things right by telling you not to work so hard."
"You're not?"
Ma hesitated a second, as if seeking the right words. "No. I understand how you feel. Even though your father and I, and your sisters, don't hold you responsible for what happened to your pa, I know you do."
Laura let out a sigh. "Yes, Ma'am, I sure do."
"Can you tell me why?" she asked softly.
The question surprised her. She had to think a minute about how to answer it. "Well, Ma'am, it's not so much that Pa got hurt, I guess, though that's a part of it. It's why he got hurt.
"Which was?"
"On account of I made him feel like he didn't love me if he didn't get me that tree I wanted."
There, it was out.
"Ah, I see." Her mother paused. "Do you really think that?"
A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. "No, Ma'am. I know Pa loves me just like I love him. It doesn't matter about that old tree."
"And have you told your father this?"
Laura's chin hung down to her chest. "I can't."
"You 'can't'? And why is that?"
"On...on account of I'm ashamed! Ma, I was so mean." She met her mother's eyes and saw no anger in them, only sympathy. "I hurt Pa's feelin's just as much as I hurt his leg."
"I see. And when you have your feelings hurt, what is it you would want the person who hurt them to do?"
She thought a second. Her nose wrinkled as she replied, "Apologize?"
Her mother squeezed her hand. "Then don't you think, instead of working yourself to the bone and growing angry with all of us, that it would be best if you went and talked to your pa?"
Laura's jaw tightened. "Yes, Ma'am."
Her mother's finger traced her lips. "And you might try wearing a smile while you do it. A scowl is a sorry way to begin."
Nodding again, she forced a smile.
And then she went into the house.
oooooooooooooooo
Charles was sitting with his back against the headboard and a book in his hand. He'd been reading but had to close his eyes to rest them and deal with the pounding, pulsing pain in his leg. He'd had fractures before, but this was the worst one with the bone coming through the skin. It was gonna take a long time to heal and he had no idea how they were going to survive with him off of work. It was the middle of winter and he was laid off from the mill anyway, but he had carpentry work to do for some of the wealthier inhabitants of the area, including Mrs. Mulvaney. The last time he'd been to town the older woman had caught him and ordered a fine cherry wood cabinet with glass inserts to house her collections. He'd sent a note in via Isaiah the day before, asking him to telegraph the contents to Mrs. Mulvaney to let her know that it would be a while before he could get it finished. He just hoped she didn't cancel the order. There were plenty of carpenters in Sleepy Eye. He'd wondered at the time why she went with him, but been glad that she did. It had seemed a God-send.
Now, he wondered if he had overestimated God.
"Pa?"
The voice was hesitant, unsure.
Opening his eyes, Charles looked at the bedraggled and browbeaten figure standing before him. "Hey there, Half-pint. Where have you been?"
Laura came into the room, but stopped at the end of the bed. "I been workin', Pa, takin' care of the animals."
He nodded. "Thank you for that."
She gave him a puzzled look. "You don't need to thank me, Pa. It's my fault you're lyin' here and can't do what you need to."
Charles hesitated. He knew that, sometimes, you just couldn't feel right until you made a thing 'right', at least in your own mind. His impulse was to tell her again that it wasn't her fault, but then, he knew the child standing in front of him was a lot like him.
"Laura, come here and sit beside me," he said, patting the bed.
She blinked and then did as he said, climbing onto the bed and sitting at his side. Once she was in place, he watched her eyes go to his leg.
"Pretty thing, isn't it?" he asked with a grin.
Carrie had taken a couple of pieces of colored chalk to his cast. Looking back at them from the rough linen surface was a little Christmas angel – sort of. Its green wings and body were triangles and its head a circle five times too big. Strands of red chalk hair stuck straight out from the circle, colliding with the tips of the triangles.
"I think Carrie needs some art lessons," she replied, her lip twisting with a smile.
"Oh, I don't know. For a five year old, I think it's mighty good." Charles shifted and failed to hide the wince as he did.
"You're hurting, aren't you, Pa?"
"A little bit." He grinned. "But then, I got a broken leg."
"Cause of me," his child sighed.
"And 'cause of me, don't you forget that."
"But Pa..."
He paused, looking at her and thinking what he could say. Finally, it came to him. "You remember the story in the Bible, of Jacob and Esau?"
Laura scrunched her nose up in puzzlement. "Sure, I do..."
"Jacob wanted somethin' he shouldn't have wanted, didn't he?"
She nodded. "His brother's birthright. The Reverend Alden says Jacob was a 'character'."
He snorted. That was putting it mildly! "What about Esau?"
"Well, sir, he was the one that was done wrong."
"But Esau did wrong too." Charles held her gaze. "He sold his birthright for a bowl of soup 'cause he thought he had to have it."
Laura was thinking. He could see the wheels turning behind her hazel eyes. A moment later, a light entered them and she smiled. "I guess you're right, Pa. They both done wrong."
"So, you see, it's kind of like that with you and me. We both made bad choices."
"But Pa..." Laura shifted and straightened up. "Pa, I'm sorry I made you think that I would think you didn't love me if you didn't get me that tree."
He looked right at her. "I never thought that, Half-pint. I wanted to get you that tree because it meant so much to you – just like you mean so much to me."
His child sucked in a breath and held it, and then flung her arms around him – sending ripples of pain down his leg which, since her head was buried against his chest, thankfully she didn't note as it registered on his face.
"Oh, Pa, I love you so much!" she cried.
His hand went to her head. "I know you do, darlin'. Don't you ever doubt it." Charles drew in a breath as he eased her off to one side. "Now, how about you go out and help your ma get ready for tomorrow?"
Tomorrow was Christmas day. It was going to be a lean one, but he'd made up his mind to make the best of it he could.
"Do you think you're gonna be able to play the fiddle tonight, Pa?"
Isaiah had brought them a tree. It was their tradition to decorate it on Christmas eve and to dance and sing while doing so.
"My arms ain't broke, just my leg," he said with a wink. Then he added, "Just one more thing."
She looked wary. "What's that, Pa?"
He held out his hand. "Apology accepted." When he took it and shook it, he added, "And that's the end of it. You forget all about what you did or did not do and you enjoy tonight, you hear?"
Laura stared at him and then dove for a quick kiss before climbing off the bed.
"Yes, sir!" she said as she headed back into the common room.
And meant it.
