The water at Twin Lakes was perfect. Melinda was glad to let her hair down and relax a little. She'd been so busy over the past few months. And the warm sun and breeze were relaxing. She, her son, and her sister had the little swimming hole in the cove to themselves. This was surprising on such a nice day. School had ended the week before, and Melinda expected the children to be gathered at the lake. Many of the town's youngsters spent almost every summer day there. The farm kids came too, but not as often. They helped their parents with farm chores.
Melinda sat on a large rock and soaked in the sunrays. As Birdie slipped off her shoes, she said, "I'll go play with Joey. You just take it easy."
Melinda smiled and nodded her agreement. She leaned back against another warm rock and watched the sky. The pine trees swayed gently, and wispy clouds floated above her. She watched a hawk make lazy spirals, and a white crane swooped down into the water next to her. She closed her eyes against the bright light. A bumblebee or horsefly buzzed softly. The cicadas sang their summer song. They sang and sang and sang… and sang Melinda to sleep.
Melinda sat up sharply. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. As she opened her eyes, she could sense something was not right. She glanced around her. Where were Joey and Birdie?
"Mama!" she heard from behind her. "Mama, come quick!"
She could not see Joey, but she ran toward his voice. "Somethin's wrong with Aunt Birdie!"
"I'm okay, Joey," she heard Birdie say. "I'm okay."
Melinda stepped beneath the shade of the tall pine trees. Birdie was sitting on the ground, holding her leg, as Joey stood over her. "Over here, Mama. Aunt Birdie's hurt."
"What is it?" Melinda called.
"Just a scorpion sting," Birdie said.
Melinda reached her and squatted next to her sister. "How did you manage that?"
After we swam, we decided to go for a walk to dry off. We were looking at bugs under the rocks and stuff."
Joey gasped. "And a big ol' scorpion camed out from a rock and stinged her foot."
"Is your leg numb?" the older sister asked.
Birdie nodded. "Some. Down toward my ankle. And it's all tingly. But it doesn't sting quite as much as it did at first."
"Can you walk?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. It'll go away. It's not the first time I've been attacked by one of those things, but never one that big."
"I don't think there are any deadly scorpions here in east Texas," Melinda stated. "It may be a different kind that bit you this time than last. We'd better get you home just in case. Daddy was allergic to the stings, you know. Let's watch you closely for the next little while."
Birdie nodded, stood and walked toward the shoreline where her shoes awaited.
Sunday was a beautiful early summer day. Melinda couldn't remember a more glorious morning for a long time. Everything about the world outside her window was perfect. The sun was shining. The sky was a wonderful shade of bright blue. And puffy white clouds lined the horizon in almost every direction. Birds had never sung so beautifully. Birdie was right. It was time to move on. And today, Melinda decided, was the day she would put the events of the past behind her. She would not think of Jonathan and feel sad. She would remember the good times, and then concentrate on making the years ahead good for her and little Joey. Who knew, she may even accept a man's offer to call.
She put on her prettiest dress, emerald green with ivory lace, and her favorite hat. I should have Birdie or the doctor pierce my ears, she thought. There are some pretty little earbobs at the mercantile that I was looking at. As she admired herself in the mirror, she called to her son. "Joey, put up your toys. It almost time to go to church."
She heard a clatter in the room across the hall, and then Joey stepped through the doorway. "Is today the day of the picnic?" he asked.
"Yes. Yes, it is. And the day you sing in the choir."
"I like ta sing," Joey said, "but Liam MacMurphy said that singing was for girls. Is that true?"
"That's nonsense," she said as she tied the hat's ribbon under her chin. "There's other men in the choir, aren't there?"
He nodded.
"Well, then. And I'd say Mr. Manahan is the best singer in the county." She paused and smiled. "Except for you, of course."
Joey changed the subject. "What'd ya make to eat fer dinner?"
"Fried chicken, cornbread, deviled eggs, and lemon tarts."
"Oh, wow!" the boy exclaimed. "I told Chad Hoffines 'bout yer lemon things…uh, tarts? He wants ta try one. Can we sit with him an' 'is momma?"
"We'll see." She pointed to his foot. "Your pant leg is stuffed in your boot. Pull it out please." Joey complied. Melinda pulled on her gloves, and they walked downstairs.
The church was full this day, fuller than usual. It seemed that most everyone in town and many folks from the country had come out on this glorious morning. The church picnics were the most exciting days of the year.
Melinda sat proudly as Joey stood in front of Birdie in his new place in the choir. Mr. Manahan, the choir director walked to the podium and announced, "We have a new member of the choir today, our youngest member ever. Please welcome Joseph Warren." He clapped, as did the congregation. Red even whistled. "Joseph will sing us a special," the director continued, "Joyful, Joyful." Mr. Manahan nodded toward Joey.
The boy looked at his mother and then his uncle Red. And then he turned and looked at Birdie. She smiled and stooped next to him.
"I'm scared," he whispered.
"Would you like me to help you?" she asked.
"Yes, please," he responded.
"I'll sing the first line," she said, "and then you sing the rest." She stood back up, and the pianist played a chord.
"Joyful, joyful we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love…" Birdie's voice rang out clear.
Joey took over quietly. The audience strained to hear. "Hearts unfold like flow'rs before Thee, op'ning to the sun above…"
The boy took a deep breath, and his voice came out more loudly and more sure. "Melt the clouds of sin and' sadness. Drive the dark of doubt away…" By the time he finished the first verse, his tone was pure, his pitch perfect. Melinda smiled as she marveled. That was her boy! The choir joined in on the second verse.
As the last note rang through the church rafters, the congregation began to clap. And then they stood. They gave Joey a standing ovation. He grinned form ear to ear.
After church, Melinda carried her basket of food to the place Red and Birdie had already chosen. Joey followed behind. "But, Mama, I thought we were gonna sit by Chad."
"He and his momma can sit with us," Melinda said. "I'll ask Betty to join us." She sat down the basket and unfolded the quilt that had been draped over her arm. When it was spread out over the grass, she searched for Betty and Chad. She pointed toward the church house. "There they are. I'll go get them."
Melinda waved and approached the young lady and her son. The mother seemed to be looking for someone. Melinda smiled. "Hello, Betty." She looked down at the boy. "And Mr. Chad."
"Good afternoon, Melinda," Betty smiled. Chad simply waved his 'hello.'
"It seems," Melinda said, "that Joey wishes to share his favorite lemon tarts with you. Would you care to sit with us?"
"Sure, I don't see why not. It doesn't seem my escort's goin' to show up anyway. He's prob'ly busy with his work."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Melinda said. "But we'd love to keep you company."
The two families were finishing the tarts when Bobby Lester and Doctor Stokely appeared around the corner of the church. The doc was obviously explaining something complex to Bobby. The cowboy's face reflected the subject matter. Betty smiled and waved at them. "There he is," she said.
The men spotted the group and joined them. "Hey, you two," Betty said. "I brought plenty of extra food. Sit down an' have some."
"Yeah," Melinda agreed. "I have a lot left too."
Bobby and Dr. Stokely sat down on opposite sides of the quilt.
Joey and Chad were now on their feet. "Can we go play, Mama?" Joey asked.
"May we," Melinda corrected. "And, yes, you may."
"Is it alright?" Chad asked Betty, and she nodded her answer.
"But you take it easy, Chad. You're still not as strong as you were before you were sick."
"Yes, ma'am." They ran toward a group of children playing some kind of game.
"Eat up," Betty told the men.
Bobby held up his hand. "No thanks, Betty. I haven't felt too great this mornin'. That's why I wasn't at church. I'm feelin' better now, but food ain't a good idea."
Melinda offered the doctor her basket. "None for me either," he said. "I just came from delivering Caesar and Chiquita Salazar's baby. Caesar's mother was there and insisted I sample her flautas. Wonderful cook, she is."
Red turned from his conversation with another rancher and welcomed the two men. "Ya'll gotta try Melinda's lemon tarts," he said patting his stomach. "They'll keep ya comin' back fer more. Say, Melinda, has that outsider… what's his name… Sloan McCanne bothered you any more?"
Everyone in the group looked at Melinda. Her cheeks blushed slightly. "Mr. McCanne wants to buy my land," she explained. "No, Red, he hasn't come out there for two or three days. There for awhile, it was everyday."
"Well," Red added, "it seems your land isn't the only one he's got 'is eye on. Asked me 'bout mine yesterday. An' Quinton said he talked to him on Friday."
"I've made it clear that I won't sell," Melinda said. "John put too much work into that house and barn. I'd have to be on my death bed before I'd consider such an idea."
"Same goes for us," Birdie said. "I could never sell Momma an' Daddy's place. But I wonder why that Mr. McCanne is so insistent."
The older sister shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he just likes the area. We have some of the best land around."
"Well, I wish he'd just move on," Birdie added. "Go away an' leave us alone."
Dr. Stokely stood to his feet. "If you all will excuse me," he said, "I'm going to go check on Mr. Charles. That cough of his bothers me. He's not exactly a spring chicken anymore, you know."
"You'll be back?" Betty asked. The doctor nodded. She smiled and began packing her leftovers in her basket.
"When are ya gonna start on that new corral?" Bobby asked Red.
"Tomorrow, I think," Red replied. "You gonna be able to give me a hand or do ya got other things ta do?" Red nodded toward Betty.
"Naw, I don't got no plans," Bobby said. "I'll be there bright an' early for ya." Red nodded.
Betty struggled to get to her feet, her full-skirted Sunday dress making the feat difficult. Bobby stood quickly and reached out his hand to help her. "Thank you," she said, and smiled sweetly.
Bobby glanced to the right. "Her comes that Mr. McCanne," he informed the group. Melinda's stomach tightened, and she moved closer to her sister, hoping for Red's help throughout the coming conversation with the outsider. But Mr. McCanne did not mention purchasing her land or anyone else's. He was cordial and talked on other things. Melinda scolded herself for feeling ill toward him. He wasn't so bad after all, she decided.
McCanne walked away, and Red told Bobby that he missed Joey's song in church.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Bobby replied. "I bet it was right good. I've heard him singin' around the corrals. Has a great voice."
"He sure didn't get it from me," Melinda said. "And John wasn't a singer either. He got it from Momma, I'd say. Like Birdie."
"He may have not got his singin' ability from you," Red said, "but he got your smarts. That's fer sure. Yesterday he informed me that cows an' pigs are mammals, snakes are reptiles, chickens are birds, and that most birds could fly because their bones are hollow. Hollow bones make birds light weight." He chuckled. "Oh, an' chickens can't fly because their wings aren't big enough." I felt like I was in school again, an' he was the schoolmaster." They all laughed.
"So you really can't sing?" Bobby asked Melinda playfully.
Everyone laughed again.
Melinda set to work on Shalene's wedding gown. She knew she needed to sew on it as much as possible while Joey was having his nap and there were no dirty fingers reaching for the shiny white fabric. Her small frame bent intently over the yards of satin and lace. Her fingers were sore, but she worked on, despite the pain. She was tacking an appliqué to the bodice when a knock came at the door. She draped the dress neatly over her sewing table and hurried to answer the call.
Mr. McCanne tipped his hat. "Good afternoon," he smiled at her.
"Hello, Mr. McCanne," she said. "What can I do for you today?" She was hoping he had not come to ask her again to sell her land.
"I was just in the area," he said, "and I thought I'd stop by and see how you are. It was so good talking with you at the picnic on Sunday."
"I'm doing quite well," she said. "And yourself?"
"Marvelous," he chuckled. She noticed the slightest Irish or Scottish accent in his voice. She had not heard it in their earlier conversations. "May I come in?" he asked.
"Oh, forgive me for my manners," she said. "Of course you may come in."
He looked around the room. "Nice house you have here. Do you know who built it?"
"My husband."
Mr. McCanne looked shocked. "Oh, I'm sorry. I did not know you were married. I was under the impression that you lived alone. Forgive me for bothering the lady of the house when I should have been speaking with your husband in the matter of purchasing this land."
Melinda's shoulders stiffened. "My husband…" She spoke slowly, annunciating each syllable. "My husband is deceased. However, if he were alive, he would not sale our land either."
"That's quite understandable, Miss Warren," McCanne assured her. "And I did not come here today to discuss that with anyone."
She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Then she relaxed. She opened her eyes and asked, "Would you like a cup of coffee? Or tea perhaps?"
"No, no," he said, holding up a hand. "But thank you for the offer. I must be on my way. I do, however, have one favor to ask. That is the reason I came by."
"And what would that be?" She smoothed a strand of hair away from her face.
"I was wondering if you would be so gracious to allow me to call upon you."
Now it was her turn to be surprised. "Call upon me?" she repeated.
"Yes, ma'am. I think you will find we have much in common. Though I am European by birth, I have lived most of my life in America. My mother was a nurse in a Boston hospital. I know that you are a nurse as well." He twisted his mustache. "And I, like you, lost my companion at a very young age. My wife died just a month after we were wed. A train accident. You see, my profession took me on the road a lot. Nonna died on a train when she was coming to visit me in New York." He stopped his explanation and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry to hear about your wife," Melinda said sympathetically. "And I'm sure we do have much in common. But I…" She paused when she suddenly recalled her conversation with Birdie. You turn down every man who asks to call, she thought. She sighed. "Okay," she muttered.
"Okay?" McCanne asked.
"Okay, I accept your proposal. You may come calling."
"Splendid!" McCanne chirped. "When is a good time for you?"
"Anytime." She almost choked on the word.
"Great. I will stop in tomorrow evening, then. Say, around seven?"
"Fine," Melinda whispered. "I'll make us dinner."
"I will see you tomorrow." He opened the door and stepped outside.
"Tomorrow," she repeated, and closed the door.
She leaned against the wall for many minutes. She was weak at the knees and almost dizzy. "What have you done?" she asked herself. "What have you done?'
She slowly walked across the room and settled herself back into the chair at her sewing desk. She pushed the needle through the lace and satin. Another knock came at the door. She breathed in deeply. "What does he want now?" she mumbled. "Couldn't even wait until tomorrow?" She stood and went to open the door once more.
"Mr. McCa…" she began. But when she looked up, she was surprised to see her brother-in-law standing on the wooden porch.
"Melinda," he panted. He stooped over and placed his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath.
Melinda rushed to his side. "What is it, Red? What's wrong?" She tossed her long, brown hair over her shoulder.
"It's Birdie." He stood to his full height. "Somethin' dreadful's wrong with her, an' Doc Stokely's out on a call. Can't find him nowhere."
"Okay, I'm coming. But I've got to get Joey. He's having his nap."
Red rushed passed her. "I'll get 'im. You take my horse an' go see what you can do fer Birdie. I'll saddle one of your horses an' bring Joey with me."
Red hadn't even finished his sentence before Melinda was atop his mount. She flicked her heels against the stallion's ribs, and he jumped to a gallop. She pushed him hard, but the ride still took a good fifteen minutes, even with cutting through the fields.
She bounded from the horse to her sister's porch and forced open the door. The entryway smelled strongly of oil, and she noticed a broken lamp in the living room floor. Birdie was lying on the divan a few feet away. Her face was flushed, and though she was asleep, she clutched her throat. Melinda placed her hand on the younger woman's forehead and then on her cheeks. Then she reached for her hands.
"Extremely high fever," she whispered to herself. She nudged her sister's shoulder. "Birdie. Birdie, can you hear me?" Birdie wiggled and moaned in her sleep. "Honey, wake up," Melinda said. "Wake up. It's Melinda."
Birdie opened her eyes. "Melinda?" Her hands tightened about her neck. "My throat. An' my head… an' I'm so cold."
"What happened?" the older sister prompted, thinking the broken lamp was connected to the sore throat.
Birdie coughed and winced in pain. "I don't know," she choked forth. "I woke up this mornin' with a headache and sore throat. An' then when I was cleanin', I guess I must've passed out." She shuddered and then closed her eyes. She was once again unconscious.
Melinda bent over the broken lamp and inhaled. It smelled like regular lamp oil. Those fumes weren't toxic. And fumes wouldn't cause a fever, anyway, she thought.
"She said she woke up with a headache and sore throat," she whispered. "High fever, headache, sore throat…" She picked up the broken pieces of the lamp and carried them to the kitchen to discard them. She washed her hands and poured more water into the basin to bathe Birdie with cool wet cloths.
As she pressed the rags on her sister's forehead, she thought about the possibilities. Could be a cold. But she most likely wouldn't have passed out from that. Influenza maybe? I haven't heard of any flu cases in town recently. Let's see—when Betty's boy had scarlet fever a few weeks ago, he… She paused and returned the washcloth to the basin.
She gently shook Birdie's shoulders once again. "Wake up, honey. Birdie, please wake up. Birdie, were you around Chad Hoffines when he was sick a couple of weeks ago?"
Birdie squinted, and a short, raspy breath escaped her lips. "Yes, I took him some cookies. Why?"
Melinda touched her sister's chin with her fingertips. "Open your mouth."
Birdie opened her mouth, revealing a pink-coated tongue. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I can't stay awake. I'm too…"
"It's okay," Melinda said softly. "You go on back to sleep." She heard footsteps on the porch, and the door swung open. Red was carrying little Joey. "Wait!" she shouted. "Stay outside."
Red stopped mid-stride and backed out the door. Melinda followed him to the wooden steps. Red lowered Joey to the ground. "Is she okay?" he asked.
"Well," Melinda began hesitantly. "I think she may have scarlet fever. She was exposed to it when the Hoffines boy had it. I haven't yet checked her for the rash. Have you ever had scarlet fever, Red?"
Red nodded slowly. "I think so. Pretty sure I had it when I was a kid."
"Good. You can help me nurse her some, then." She turned to her son. "Little mister, how would you like to go spend a week or so with Pastor Smith and his grandkids?"
Joey shrugged. "That'd be okay, I guess. But what about Aunt Birdie? Is she gonna be okay?"
Melinda looked at Red and then back to the boy. "She'll be fine. We'll have her better in no time." She smiled. "Red, would you mind taking him over to the Pastor's house and tell Lyla what's going on?"
Red nodded almost dumbly and lifted the boy into his arms again. "An' I'll find the doc," he said. "He's gotta be around here somewhere." He untied one of the horses and turned back to her. "Melinda?"
Melinda looked at him through the doorway. "Yes, Red."
"Have you had scarlet fever before?"
Her eyes drifted from Red's face to the small, round face of her son. "No," she said. "I haven't ever had it."
"Oh, Melinda, then I can't let you…"
"I'll be fine, Red." She looked at him again. "I might as well stay. I want to stay. And I've already been exposed anyway."
Red opened his mouth to protest, but Melinda raised her hand to stop him. Then she disappeared into the house. He sighed, helped Joey up into the saddle, and then pulled himself up behind him.
Melinda retrieved some fresh water from the kitchen pump and continued to bathe Birdie's hot skin as she waited for the coffee to boil. She hoped Red would return soon with the doctor. She could not recall what medications and treatments would help heal the deadly fever.
Red did locate the doctor who confirmed the diagnosis Melinda had already given. He instructed her to continue bathing Birdie with the cool water and gave her some sage leaves with which to make some tea to give to the patient. He really didn't know what else could be done. They would simply have to wait out the sickness. And Melinda also knew that they would have to wait to see whether or not she would contract the fever.
"Has anyone else been around here lately?" Doctor Stokely asked. "Perhaps yesterday or the day before?"
Red thought for a moment. "I think the only one was Bobby. He's been here every day this week."
"Bobby Lester?" the doctor questioned.
Red nodded.
"And where is he now? Do you know?"
"He took some hogs to Huntsville for me. Should be back tomorrow."
The doctor nodded. "Let him know what's going on. But if he's not had scarlet fever in the past, don't let him around Miss Birdie again." He turned to Melinda. "And if you so much as have a dull headache or scratchy throat, you stay here and send for me. Do not come to my office. Understand?"
She nodded and continued her vigil with the cloth and water basin.
"And make sure you get proper rest and eat well," he added. "Red can help you with the doctoring. We want you to avoid getting sick if at all possible." With that, he was gone.