Chapter 25 – Broken

It was a full breakfast table, even if two of its occupants weren't doing a lot of eating. Simon and Beau made up for the two that were more or less disinterested in food. Ben and Bret feigned attention to their eggs and bacon, moving the food around on the plate, and Bret didn't object when Beau reached over and stole a piece of his bacon. Althea sat next to Simon and joined them for breakfast.

"I wouldn't call that eating," the doctor finally commented. "You have to put some of it in your mouth and chew it, then swallow it."

"Is that your professional opinion, doctor?" Bret asked as he moved more food around on his plate before putting a forkful of it in his mouth.

"Yes, it is," Simon answered, and Althea smiled. She was amused by Simon, which was evident.

Ben had just taken a swallow of coffee when Lily Mae's voice could be heard above everything else. "DOC PETRY! Come quick!"

Simon jumped up and ran, hastily followed by the rest of the group. As the doctor took the stairs two at a time, he yelled out to the housekeeper, "Lily! What's wrong?"

Sprinting down the hallway, he was at the bedroom door and could see for himself what had caused her to summon him. Beauregard was having a convulsion. "Lily Mae, get out!" Simon ordered, and Lily didn't hesitate to obey. "Bret, come in here. Everybody else, out!" Simon slammed the door as soon as Bret was in the room. "I want you here if it gets any worse. Just stand there, and don't do anything unless I tell you."

Bret felt helpless. His father was shaking and moaning; the doctor in Simon was trying as best he could to calm and sooth Beauregard while preventing injuries to either one of them. Bret felt his stomach lurch in response to what he was witnessing and fought to concentrate on his father and ignore his own insides.

Beau thrashed and shook, drooling and moaning, for four or five more minutes. Bret stood by waiting for Simon's instructions, which never came. So gradually it felt like they were in slow motion, the shaking and trembling of the uncontrollable movements began to dwindle. "Simon?" Bret finally asked, desperately wanting to do anything to help. Simon nodded but said nothing, never taking his eyes off his patient. When Beauregard finally lay still in the bed, Simon wiped Beau's face and mouth with the cloth Lily Mae had left on the bedside table and looked briefly at Bret.

"I think it's over," the doctor announced, and Bret let out the breath he'd been holding. "Here, wash this out for me, would you?" and he handed the rag to Bret for cleaning in the basin of water on the chest. When Bret brought the cloth back to Simon, he used it to again wipe Beauregard's face.

"What was that?"

Simon sighed as he answered. "His body's reaction to the fever that wouldn't break, I think. That's the best guess I've got right now. Let's hope it takes the fever with it. Hand me my bag, would you?" Bret grabbed the medical bag from the chair where Simon had left it and handed it over. The doctor reached in and pulled out his thermometer and very gently placed it inside Beau's mouth. They waited silently, each man saying his own kind of prayer, and when Simon pulled it out and read the temperature he smiled just a bit. He finally turned to Bret and relayed the news very softly. "It's gone down a little. Maybe that was the beginning of the end for the fever."

Bret slumped into one of the chairs next to the bed and let out a long 'whoosh' of breath. "You really think so?"

"Have to wait and see, Bret. But if I was a gambling man I'd put money on it."

The gambler's son wanted to get up and tell everyone outside what happened and that maybe, just maybe, something had finally broken the fever, but he didn't think his legs would hold him just yet. 'Thanks,' he thought and gathered his strength to stand. He took a deep breath and got to his feet, knowing those in the hall had no idea what had occurred in the bedroom.

He stumbled to the door and was immediately aware of four pairs of very anxious eyes turned in his direction. "He's alright. Simon thinks the fever may have broken." Bret stepped out of the doorway and let everyone into the room, all except Althea, who enveloped him in her embrace.

"I think you better sit down," she told him, and he gave a little laugh.

"Do I look that bad?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "Like you're about to collapse. Is he really alright?"

Bret nodded slightly and his head swam. "Simon thinks so. It wasn't good, Althea. I thought . . . . . . "

She nodded, understanding what he was trying to tell her. "I know. You're white as a sheet, Bret. Why don't you go lay down for a few minutes? I'll come get you before Simon goes."

"No, I'm alright. I need to talk to him. Simon, I mean."

Bret stood in the doorway, holding onto Althea, until everyone but Ben and Simon had left the room. Ben had taken up his usual seat at Beauregard's bedside and Simon was gathering up his belongings. He looked up at Bret and grinned. "Hope there's no angry patients waiting for me, but it sure is fortunate I was here. Same regimen as before, Bret. Keep up the water, and I've talked to Lily Mae about the soup. I'll be back this evening. And by the way, good work, friend."

"I didn't do anything, Simon."

Simon clapped him on the shoulder. "That's just it. I told you to wait for my instructions, and you did just what I told you. You didn't move. Wish everybody listened to me like that." He realized that Bret had swayed slightly and a look of concern spread across his face. "Are you alright?"

"No, he's not," Althea interjected. "He doesn't eat, he's only slept once in four days, and he's worried out of his mind. Convince him to go rest, would you please, Simon?"

"Listen to your lady, gambling man. Go lay down for a while. You can feel better about things; Beauregard's really got a chance, now. It would be nice if his son was healthy enough to welcome him back."

Bret looked at both of them as if they'd just shot him. "Yes, momma," he told Simon, and let Althea lead him out of the room. "Ben, I'll be back," he called over his shoulder, and saw Ben nod his head.

"Simon, wait for me downstairs. I'll be right down," Althea explained, and Simon nodded.

"I want to talk to Lily Mae for a minute, anyway," the doctor offered.

Althea led Bret down the hall to his old room. She made him sit on the bed and pulled his boots off, then took the coat he handed her and hung it on the chair. "Lay down," she told him, "and close your eyes."

"Thea – " he started to protest, and she stopped him.

"Doctor's orders. Close your eyes."

He finally quit fighting and did as he was told. He breathed a sigh of relief that this morning was over; it had been terrifying and hopeful at the same time, and for the first time in days the knot in the pit of his stomach relaxed just a little. Now all he had to worry about was getting Pappy well and begging to be forgiven. And where in the world was his brother?. He sighed again. Worrying about Brother Bart was nothing new.