Chapter 27 - Epidemic

When the doctor came to see them the next day, he wouldn't go into the house. Instead, he shouted to them from their yard while they stood in the door of their house. He told them he had five other cases.

Worryingly, Adam and Joseph Curry were showing signs, as well as Bill Evans and Thomas Brown. Lucy Wilson and Leah's best friend, Charlotte Monroe, were already sick.

The school was closed and the affected households were quickly quarantined.

Even the people not quarantined stayed in their houses, away from other people. The streets were deserted, the town like a ghost town.

Maggie had been sent a telegram telling her to stay away, an instruction which she had, of course, ignored. She left Leah, Jed, and the baby with Grandpa Curry, and returned as soon as she could to nurse her other children.

By the time she returned, it seemed as though they had contained the epidemic. The only new cases they had were from the families already in quarantine.

Everyone prayed that it wouldn't go any further.

Tom was now worse than Hannibal, and Elizabeth nursed him while David tended to Han. It was heartbreaking for each of them to see their new children suffering in that way.

Elizabeth had tears in her eyes as she nursed her boy, a child she couldn't have loved more if he had been her own from the beginning. To see him miserable with fever and fighting for breath broke her heart. He cried for his mother and the tears ran, unchecked, down Elizabeth's cheeks.

Hannibal didn't inflict that kind of misery on his new father. He'd been so long without a mother or father that he didn't call for them. But his whimpers and cries hurt David as much as if he himself were suffering. Most of the time, he sat holding the boy, talking to him and wiping his face with a cool cloth.

Five days after Hannibal first became sick, Tom died.

He'd been having problems breathing. His throat had continued to swell, until one night, the battle was lost. Elizabeth had fallen asleep, weary from days and nights of watching over him. She woke with a start and it took her a moment to wake fully and realize where she was.

And then she saw him.

Her beautiful son, her darling boy, lying still on the bed, blue-tinged lips slightly parted. She leaned over him to feel for a breath, but there was nothing. She shook him, but he remained lifeless. Then she lifted him into her arms and howled like an animal, as she clung to the boy she had loved so intensely and so briefly.

David had been sitting with Hannibal, who against all odds was clinging to life with a tenaciousness that David hoped would help him come through it. When David put broth to his lips, Han would drink as much as he was able. He didn't seem to be as sick as Tom and was fighting as hard as he could.

David froze when he heard the wailing that came from Tom's room. He had thought that Tom would get through this. He should have; he was stronger, fitter, and in far better shape, physically. He moved to Tom's room and found his wife, almost unrecognizable in her grief. She was clutching the boy to her, crying like a madwoman.

He tried to take the boy from her arms, but she wouldn't let him go. Finally, he settled for just holding the two of them in his arms as her wails turned to sobs. When she'd calmed down enough, he pried the boy's body away from her and lifted her from the bed. He took her back to their room and give her a dose of the laudanum they kept for emergencies.

After quickly checking on Hannibal, he went back to Tom's bedroom and laid the boy out on the bed, covering him with a sheet. He allowed himself a moment of grief. He may not have felt as strongly as Beth, but he'd been a father to Tom, however briefly, and he'd loved both his sons. He couldn't mourn him in the way that Beth did - he didn't feel the same weight of grief, the way he would feel if it was Hannibal lying there - but he felt the sadness, the loss of him and the senseless waste.

His heart broke for his wife.

He made sure that she was sleeping and then returned to Han's bedside. The loss of Tom made Han feel even more precious, and he pulled the boy into his arms and held him as if his grip could keep death from taking him.

The doctor didn't come that day, so David did his best to make sure that Elizabeth ate something and encouraged her to sleep. She was exhausted after her long bedside vigil - heck, they both were - and it wasn't hard for her tired body to escape into sleep.

Elizabeth awoke the next morning, grief hanging over her like a cloud. She ate, although she couldn't have said what it was that she'd eaten. She washed and dressed and did all of things she was supposed to do, but she moved and acted like a sleepwalker.

She didn't ask about Han. She hadn't once, not since Tom had become worse. All of her thoughts were for Tom. She didn't think to ask about the boy now, even though he was sleeping on the sofa in the main room, right next to the kitchen. Somehow, Elizabeth didn't seem to see him. She was lost in her own world of grief.

She stood up from the breakfast table with the first hint of determination.

"Where are you going?" David asked in concern.

"I'm going to take care of Tom."

"What?"

"He needs to be washed and dressed ready for..." she couldn't say 'the funeral'. It made it too real. "For later."

"You don't have to do that now."

"Doctor Masterson's probably coming today, he'll want to take Tom away with him. My boy's going to look his best. I won't be there to… to see it done," they were still under quarantine, "but he's going to look as fine as he can look."

David nodded, accepting that she would have to do this. "Can I help?"

"No. No, thank you. I want to do this for him. It's the last thing I can do as his mother." Her voice cracked and she stopped for a moment as she swallowed down her sobs. Then she turned and went back to Tom.

The doctor arrived around noon. He stood aside while David carried Tom to his wagon and watched sympathetically as Elizabeth kissed her son one last time. Then she resolutely turned and headed back to the house.

The doctor called to David. "Mr. Heyes, wait a moment."

Elizabeth, alerted by his tone, turned to watch them.

"You looked a little unsteady there and your throat looks swollen. Do you have sore throat?"

He did; he'd had one for a few days now but had been trying not to notice it. "A little."

"Open wide."

The doctor peered in, trying not to get too close. "I'm sorry Mr. Heyes. It looks like you're going to need some nursing yourself. You've got it too."

"I feel fine, it's just my throat."

"No, Mr. Heyes, you're only going to get worse. Go to bed and let your wife take care of you."

David looked over to the house. "What about Han?"

"He's still here, so he's probably out of danger, Mr. Heyes. Your wife will have to take care of you both."

"But..."

"Mr. Heyes, if you don't let her take care of you, then in all likelihood she'll be left with no-one to take care of her. If you care about your wife and son, then you need to look after yourself and get well."

David nodded. He could see the sense of it. He turned pleading eyes to Elizabeth. "You will look after Han, won't you? Take care of him for me?"

She reached for his hand. "Of course I will. Just promise me that you'll do your part and get well for me."

"I will." He squeezed her hand in return, reassured. Then, he turned and headed for the bedroom to lie down.