Chapter 3 – Rosy Cheeks
"Can you take the baby tomorrow morning?" Elizabeth asked as she put the basket of rolls on the table. "One of the Thompson boys has a cough and I don't want the baby in the schoolhouse with any germs."
"Sure. I've got some paperwork I can do," Jack replied as he reached for a roll with one hand, while holding Thatch in his other arm. "I saw Doreen at the mercantile yesterday and thanked her again for loaning us a cradle. It's a good idea keeping the one your folks sent at the schoolhouse and another one at my office."
"Think about it - our little boy is growing up having experience watching a teacher work and a Mountie work", Elizabeth said pleasantly as she carried the small pot of stew to the table and placed it on a trivet.
"You know, Elizabeth, you don't have to work. We would be okay on my salary. We've saved all of yours. If you want to stop for a year . . . or more, we'd be okay."
Elizabeth sat down at the table and put her napkin on her lap before reaching for her fork.
"I like teaching. And having my own school really makes it the perfect job. When he gets older and starts crawling, it might take some creative thinking as to how to handle both him and school. But right now, it's nice being able to take him to the classroom. I like having him with me. I just don't want him around any sick kids this week."
"But it's a lot of work for you. Taking care of 20 students during the day plus your own. And then making meals and doing laundry. Even with me helping, I now understand why you are tired sometimes. Especially when I was gone last week."
"I just have to remember to sleep when he sleeps. And Lucy's been helping out with laundry. She also made last night's dinner by the way."
"Isn't she tired too? Maddy's only a week older than Thatch."
"She doesn't have a job outside of the home. She makes her money from eggs and chickens. So she's home all day to cook and do wash . . Michael doesn't leave town ever. And Maddy sleeps a lot better than your son."
"So we're back to that again? My son? He always seems to be my son when he spits up on you or keeps you awake. But he's your son when he's adorable."
Elizabeth nodded as she took a sip of water. "That's right. When you've spent hours in painful labor, had blood and body fluids pour out of you, and given birth to one of our children, you can decide when you want to take credit for him or her. Until then, it's my choice."
"Point taken", Jack said with a chuckle.
Jack sat at his desk filling out official reports that weren't due for a week. He glanced down at the empty cradle on the floor next to his desk. His eyes then went to the sleeping infant lying across his lap. It would be easier if I just put him in the cradle. How the heck am I supposed to get up and refill my coffee or post these fliers on the bulletin board?
Jack turned his attention to the clock on the wall. Elizabeth would be another hour at school; therefore, Jack had two choices. He could put the baby in the cradle and get about his day. Post the fliers on the bulletin board. Clean his weapon. Shine his boots. Refill his cup of coffee.
Or he could sit quietly at his desk until Elizabeth finished school for the morning and came by to pick up Thatch.
He sure is cute. I guess I don't need another cup of coffee. And the fliers can wait. And I can do the other stuff later, Jack thought as he ran his fingers through his son's hair and then went back to filling out his reports.
"I'm getting tired of winter. I wish I had some more color in my cheeks. Look how pale I am." Elizabeth scowled as she looked in the mirror in the early morning light two days later.
"You're fine." Jack replied as he pulled on his boots.
"I'm sorry I have to leave so soon again. I'll ride as far as Sandersville, spend two to three nights in that area, and then head back home, " Jack said as he stood up and kissed her on the cheek.
"We'll be safe and sound while you're gone. I promise to lock up every night."
"By the way, you're not Queen Victoria. You're not even Queen Elizabeth of Bear Creek. So do you think you can keep the interchangeable breasts to a minimum while I'm gone? I feel guilty enough that I'm not around to help out."
Elizabeth chuckled. "I think we'll be just fine. He's now sleeping four and a half hours at a time. Which seems like an eternity after those three hour sleeps. And Lucy's not taking morphine anymore. So she doesn't need my help feeding Maddy. And I promise, I won't have her teach me any new recipes. Oh, that reminds me, I baked some cookies yesterday for my students . I'll give you some for the trip."
As Elizabeth walked past the window, stopping to pet Comet who was sitting on the sill, the sunlight streamed through her hair. Turning the brown into shades of amber.
For some reason, the color reminded Jack of the color of the first flower he had ever given her. On their first night of courting when they had dinner at Abigail's Café.
Jack crossed the room. He cupped his hand behind Elizabeth's neck and gently pulled her face close to his, gazing into her eyes. Elizabeth, momentarily taken surprise by the intensity of his look, felt her breath catch at his closeness. She stared back at him. Not thinking to move. Waiting.
After all their time together. Their disagreements. Their everyday chores. Their laughter. Their love. She still had the ability to make him feel like it was the beginning. When he yearned to touch her lips for the first time.
"I love you," he whispered as he leaned close and met her mouth.
Hundreds of miles away, William Thatcher of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada walked into the prestigious law offices of "Stevenson, Levi, and Martins" in the stately brick building at 172 High Street, and took off his hat and thick winter coat.
"A cup of tea would be wonderful. Thank you", he replied to the receptionist as he was ushered into one of the inner offices.
Settling into the leather chair across the desk from Mr. Daniel Levi, Mr. Thatcher reached into the pocket of his finely tailored suit and pulled out the latest letter which he had received from Bear Creek.
"My grandson has a name", he announced proudly.
"Congratulations." Daniel replied with a pleasant smile. "I must say, they took their time. Now let's get that paperwork finished. He's a lucky little boy."
Days later, Jack Thatcher Thornton didn't feel lucky. And he didn't care that he had an official name.
Someone could have taken away his birth certificate, his newly established trust fund, and his name from his wealthy grandfather's will, and the young boy wouldn't have missed them.
But he missed the man and woman.
He didn't know that the man that he missed was his father or that he had been named after him. And he didn't know that the scents that he associated with the man were from the horse he rode, or the pine trees the man passed on his rounds, or the clean scent of soap after he had bathed and shaved.
But the baby knew that whenever he smelled one of those scents, he was cuddled and kissed and carried around while his back was rubbed.
And while he couldn't understand the words that the man usually sang to him, the baby knew that the sound soothed him.
The little boy liked the man with the now familiar scents who made him feel safe and warm.
He couldn't tell time or the days of the week but the infant knew that the man hadn't held him in a while. Or cuddled him before he slept. Or rubbed his tiny back after he had been fed. Or ran warm water along his pale soft skin with a washcloth.
He missed the man.
He missed the woman too.
He missed her even more than he missed the man.
He had cried for her but she hadn't come. Instead, the other woman had come. The other woman smelled different. Not bad. Just different. And she tasted different. But she fed him so he stopped crying.
The other woman was slower too. She made him wait. The baby wasn't used to waiting. Usually, he just put his fist in his mouth and made a little sucking noise when he first started to get hungry. The first woman, the one he didn't know was named Elizabeth, would usually be there almost immediately. Picking him and taking care of him.
When the baby's belly was full, the other woman laid him on his blanket. He didn't like that. The woman that was called his mother would have let him fall asleep to the rhythm of her breathing as he lay on her soft warm chest.
Over the past two days and nights, the small infant had whimpered and cried in his bassinet. He had sniffled his nose and hiccuped from the tears. He had kicked his little feet in frustration. But the first woman, the one named Elizabeth, had never come.
For two days and nights, she had never come.
A sad Jack Thatcher Thornton didn't know why, at just six weeks, his mother and father were ignoring him.
All he knew was that he missed them.
Jack had gotten back to Bear Creek later than expected. After returning his horse to the livery, he headed down the street towards home in the faded light of the setting sun.
He glanced across the street at the jailhouse but decided not to stop in before greeting Elizabeth and Thatch. After being gone for four days, he hurried to the house in anticipation of hugging them both.
He imagined the scene he would find. Elizabeth would be sitting on the couch folding laundry with the baby laying on the cushions; her arm ready to grab the baby if he moved too close to the edge. Or maybe she would be holding their son in one hand while turning the pages of a book with the other. Or cuddling the baby while she walked around the kitchen preparing a meal and humming a tune.
I wonder what she's making us for dinner.
"Jack", Michael said in a startled voice when Jack opened the door and walked in.
The man hurriedly grabbed a blanket and threw it across the chest of his wife, Lucy, who was sitting on the Thornton's couch in the front room.
"Um, hello." Jack replied hesitantly. He noticed that Michael had a baby in one arm, while Lucy had another baby at her breast, now hidden under the thin blanket.
"Is that Thatch?" he asked as he motioned towards the hidden infant.
"Yes. He's almost finished", Lucy said apologetically
"Um, where's Elizabeth?" Jack asked looking around. "Is she busy with schoolwork? Meeting some parents?"
My god, this is awkward, he thought as he tried to avert his eyes from the blanket which was covering the son he wanted to hold. I thought Elizabeth wasn't going to do this anymore.
Michael stood up and looked sympathetically at Jack.
"Elizabeth's sick. Thatch's been staying with us for the past two days. We just came over here because we were expecting you back today and we wanted to be here when you arrived. . . . It's not good, Jack. . . . Elizabeth's real sick."
Jack barely heard the last word as he ran across the wooden floor of the front room and into the bedroom where he stopped with a start when he saw her lying in bed.
Elizabeth, her eyes closed, didn't stir when he entered.
"It's Scarlet Fever", Michael said as he approached from behind and stopped in the doorway.
"She got it from one of her students. It started as a cough and then . . . well . . . then it got worse." His voice trailed off as he finished speaking.
Jack didn't need to hear Michael say the words. As he knelt by the bedside, Jack knew just by looking at the color of her cheeks. Elizabeth's usually pale cheeks, were now flushed with the deep pink of potentially deadly Scarlet Fever.
"Don't get too close. The doctor's been stopping by a couple times a day. And the new nurse has been staying in the evenings. We've been keeping the baby away. So far, he's fine," Michael said quietly.
"Thanks for helping out", Jack said, carrying his son, as he walked Michael and Lucy, who was carrying her own baby, to the door.
Jack closed the front door behind them and crossed the room. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, he spoke to a sleeping Elizabeth.
"I'm home, sweetie. And I'll take care of the baby. You just get better. I know you want to hold him. And you will. As soon as you're better. Until then, I need to keep him away."
Six hours later, Jack was at his wit's end. He paced the floor, gently bouncing the baby, while a feverish Elizabeth slept, oblivious to the whimpering of her son which had now turned into wails of hunger.
Jack had pleaded, cajoled, and begged Thatch to drink from a bottle. But the infant boy, so used to the perfect warmth and feel of female breasts, refused to keep the glass bottle's distasteful rubber nipple in his mouth.
After more than an hour of constant fussing, the baby was red in the face, tired, angry, and still hungry.
Finally, Jack gave in.
"I'm so sorry, my boy. I know you're hungry", he said as he carried the now bundled up infant down the street. Please stop screaming. Please.
A tired looking Michael answered the door on the second knock, saw the red-faced crying baby, and took him from Jack's hands.
"Come on in", he said to Jack before turning and quickly disappearing upstairs with the baby. Whatever Michael said to Lucy was drowned out by the baby's loud wails of hunger and anger at not been fed.
Fifteen seconds later, the house was silent.
Jack looked up in relief as Michael walked down the staircase.
"We'll keep him for the night. He'll be fine. Don't worry. We'll keep him safe for you. You just take care of Elizabeth."
When Jack got back home, the nurse was there, checking on Elizabeth. As she went to replace the washcloth on Elizabeth's feverish forehead, the middle-aged woman urged Jack to move into the Saloon or a boarding house temporarily, but he refused.
"I'll sleep on the couch", he informed the woman as he pulled some sheets from the closet. "Just let me get my pillow".
"Not from here. It hasn't been washed", the nurse replied as she looked at him standing in the doorway of the bedroom. "You're not to come in here again. I've cleaned the rest of the house with bleach so it's okay for you to stay there. But don't come in here. Your son can't have you getting sick. And I'm too busy to take care of you too."
After the nurse left for the night, Jack sat on the couch and looked around the house.
It felt empty.
Quiet.
Sad.
Lonely.
The Thornton family of three was sleeping apart, and Jack was worried they may never be a family again.
Up next: chapter 4
