Shivers

He didn't know what woke him up so early this morning, but quite suddenly, he was wide awake and staring into the darkness. He tried rolling over and pulling the blankets tight around his shoulders but after five minutes it was obvious there was no going back to sleep. Many a night, or day, it depends on one's perception, he had had to be up before the sun. So much for the glamour of sea. He had survived those times, and he didn't hate them, truth to be told, but now he was old and tired and he liked to sleep until the sun began to warm the earth.

Slowly, he sat up in bed, a long sigh escaping his dry lips. It was so early, the candle he had lit before turning in was still burning low. He rubbed his hands over his face, combing through his long, heavy beard with his fingers. Then stretching his neck from side to side, he grabbed for his wooden leg, an item he always kept at his bedside.

With a chuckle he remembered the look on his grandson's face when he first showed it to him. A look that was both horrified and fascinated. A proper pirate, William had called him. To complete the look, one of his eyes should be glass…but that was not to be. There would be no glass eye, no eye patch, for this granddad.

Tea! Yes, that would hit the spot. Leg fastened in place, he stood up from his bed and decided to go about with his new routine. A routine he was very grateful for. He headed to the kitchen then, passing through the deserted and dark pub, his mouth pleading for a hot cup of tea.

That's when he felt it. Right when he shuffled past the bar. A shiver. A long, cold shiver travelling from the very tip of his stockinged foot to the top of his head. He looked around, trying to figure out what was happening, expecting to see an open door or window...but nothing.

Shivers, yes, Eamon knew about those. That shiver you have before docking in new port. That shiver you feel when you spot a storm fast approaching. He had felt all sort of shivers throughout his life, even those of passion and love, but this one felt different. Unbidden, he thought of that line from Macbeth…'something wicked this way comes'. What nonsense, you old fool...

xxxx

'Father?'

'Hmm, Yes?'

'I've called you twice already.' John eyed the man suspiciously. 'Are you all right?'

'Never been better son,' Eamon smiled, shaking away his thoughts. 'What is it?'

'Anna just wanted me to ask if you like beet soup. She's making it for supper.'

'Sweet girl, always asking me if I like her cooking.'

'I told her not to bother, you would eat whatever she made, but she insisted,' John said, pursing his lips unamused.

'Tell her I like everything she does. And yes, I like beets. Used to eat them raw every day.'

John nodded, grimacing, thinking that must taste like eating a spoonful of dirt. 'You're a strange one.'

Eamon chuckled, enjoying their banter. 'Made me grow strong and age well! Didn't it?' he said, puffing his chest.

'Whatever you say… .' John brought his hands up. 'Just…' he looked at his father then, a hesitant expression on his face, trying to find a good way to word his request. 'Can you...could you maybe trim your beard?'

'Trim my beard? Did your wife ask for that too?' Eamon asked laughing, his cheeks turning red.

'No, I am. It's just…' John pointed out. 'It's always full of crumbs and stuff.'

'Stuff?!' the old man shook his head. 'A strong beard makes a strong man. Stuff of men, you mean.'

John sighed, giving up. 'If you say so. Beet soup and pie for supper then,' John remarked as he walked away to his office, but stopped suddenly, returning to his father. 'Oh, I almost forgot,' he said, setting a tin of baking soda on the bar along with detailed instructions from Anna. 'Will came down with a fever last night. Caught something from Percy. Anna wants us to dose up on this. You'll do it if you want to eat and see your grandchildren this week.'

Eamon turned up his nose, 'I hate that stuff.'

'Me too. She also said for you to bring a good story with you tonight. Will needs some cheering up.' John turned and walked toward his office.

'My storybook's always with me!' Eamon answered back, raising his voice so his son could still hear him, and pointing to his head. Indeed, a book he would never forget. His own memories.

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January 18th, 1928 10:00 am

Brrr.. As my mother would say, it's as cold as moonlight on a tombstone today. We have fires going in all the hearths and Caleb has been shoveling coal into the furnace like a man possessed. This is the coldest winter I can remember in years. I imagine the pub will be busy. The men of the village seem to like to hole up here during bad weather. There'll be no family dinner crowd so to speak of though. Women are smarter than to come out in this weather unless they have to.

I need to pick up two guests from the train station in a bit, and I've never been more grateful to have an automobile. Although it does take some getting used it, driving in the snow. This is my first winter behind the wheel and I have to admit it stresses me out. I suppose it's all in getting used to it.

Anna is staying home today. Will had a fever last night. That broke around three this morning but he's still feeling pretty sick. It's just a bad cold, Anna says. He claims he got it from Percy when he deliberately sat on Will and rubbed his dirty handkerchief on his face.

We'll all probably catch it now. Anna's hoping her breast milk has built up the girl's immunity. They've not been sick one day since they were born. I don't know about that, but I do think I'm going to have a word with Percy's gran. I realise the poor woman has her hands full with that one, but he needs straightening out before he gets into some serious trouble and takes my son with him.

So the family won't be in today and I'll truly miss them. The office is a rather lonely place without them. Anna's treating Will with bicarbonate of soda, Mrs Hughes' cure for everything. She's taking it too and has made me promise to also. She told me I had to offer the remedy to the old man too, which I did earlier today. I have no idea if he'll take it.

Speaking of my father, he was acting rather strangely when I came in this morning. Looked like he hadn't been to sleep. Said it was nothing, but who knows with him? And I finally addressed the beard issue. It's been bothering me since he started working here. Doubt it will do any good.

I'd best stop now and warm the Austin up. I'll run into the sweet shop before I go to the station and buy William his favorite chocolate bar. It won't make him feel any better but it might take the taste of the baking soda out of his mouth. Poor little guy.

~John Bates

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Shivers - part 2

It was around seven when Eamon walked in the by the kitchen door. The cottage was cozy, contrasting dramatically with the cold and dark outside. The stove and fireplace warming the house to a perfect temperature. Anna stood at the stove, an apron around her waist, stirring her heralded beet soup with a pleased expression on her face. There was a cat on the window sill, chancing lazy glimpses outside now and then, a dog sleeping before the fireplace and a silent canary in a cage. The scene quite picturesque.

'Evening, my dear.' Eamon announced his presence, his voice always a cheery one. 'It smells wonderful in here.' He discarded his jacket, hanging it on a hook behind the kitchen door alongside his son's.

'Hello, Father,' she smiled at him. 'Have a seat and make yourself comfortable. John's upstairs with William. They'll be coming down soon.'

'How's the boy?' the old man asked as he washed his hands at the sink before he sat down at the table.

'A bit better now. John's helping him take a bath and in to clean pyjamas. He's been in bed all day- Oh! But look at you. You look very handsome.'

'Ha!' Eamon looked down blushing. 'Just trimmed my beard, nothing more.'

'Yes, but it makes a big difference.' Anna walked toward the table, giving him a proper look. 'John really looks like you, you know? If he'd grow his beard I wouldn't be able to tell you apart,' she giggled.

'Ah well…' the old man scratched his face. 'We've always been a family of pretty good looking fellas,' he joked.

'Well, I'm glad to know that. My son's got a chance!'

'He does, although, he has a lot of Smith in him too.'

Anna chuckled, 'He does at that.'

'It's a good mix. Beautiful mother, good looking dad...he'll grow into a handsome lad, but the girls will be the real problem.'

'Just promise me you won't remind John of that,' Anna winked at him. She walked back to the stove then to check on the boiling soup again. 'He won't be able to sleep nights just thinking about it.'

'Well, a man has to be prepared to deal with his daughters' affairs, I guess. He better start thinking about buying a pistol,' her father-in-law laughed.

'He'll beat away the boys with his cane, thank you. That's what he said.'

'What's this?' John's voice came to their ears as he walked into the kitchen with William by his hand.

'How are you feeling, boy?' Eamon asked, stretching his arm out to the child.

'Eh...I still got the shivers,' William replied, falling into his granddad's arms and resting his head on the man's chest.

'The shivers? Well you let your old granddad warm you up,' Eamon said, rubbing the lad's arms and back.

'He's feeling a little better and he really wanted to come down to see you,' John remarked, smiling.

'Good lad,' Eamon said, patting the boy's cheek. 'Where's the girls?'

'They're napping,' John answered. 'Just checked on them before coming- Oh! I see you took my advice.' He arched a brow, eyeing his father.

'Well...you weren't wrong,' Eamon shrugged his shoulders. 'It was too long.'

'I was just telling him if you grew your beard I wouldn't be able to tell you apart.' Anna told her husband teasingly and John couldn't help but shoot her a disapproving look. 'Whatever you think John Bates, you two couldn't look more alike...anyway,' she continued, peeking at the pie in the oven. 'Set the table for me, will you?'

'Of course!' Eamon and John replied in unison.

'Not you, Father. You stay with Will. John can do it all by himself, can't you darling?'

John approached her from behind, and since their backs were to Eamon and Will, he brazenly took the opportunity to reach around her and squeeze her breast for good measure. 'You will pay for this.'

'And I can't wait..' she giggle softly, and John shook his head. His wife would be the death of him one day.

'Now!' Anna raised her voice to call everyone's attention. 'I will prepare each of us a cup of baking soda that you are going to take without fussing. I don't want anyone else feeling poorly in this house, especially with two babies around.'

John and Eamon grimaced at her words, both sharing a look at each other. Will screwed up his nose and cried, 'Aw, mum…'

'Don't even try to run away and stop with that face.' Anna rested her hands on her hips frowning at them. 'There won't be any dinner for you before your cups are empty.'

'Ah well…' Eamon gave in immediately. 'I'm starving, I'll drink anything you put before me.'

Anna smiled at her father-in-law before eyeing her husband questioningly.

'Better do it, son,' the old man advised. 'Anna Bates always knows best.'

xxxx

'And there he was, crying his eyes out and all because of some mud. I still remember him screaming 'Pa! Help Pa! I ruined my new boots!'' Eamon laughed heartily as he spoke, his hands flailing against the air, adding life to his memories. William sat on the old man's lap, listening to every word in wonder, while Fee and Finn were each in their parents arms, only interested in their rattling toys and their own baby conversations.

'Margaret, oh, that poor woman. I'm sure you can appreciate this, Anna,' the old sailor continued, shaking his head. 'Well she came running as fast as she could. She thought our Johnny boy there had...I don't know... broken a leg or somethin', but nah. She told him the boots were made for walking in the mud, that's why she had bought them in the first place, but the little flower there didn't want them dirty.'

John rolled his eyes, scoffing. 'Mother had spent two months saving for those boots. I didn't want to ruin them on the first day,' he explained. Fee sat contentedly in his arms now trying to take a hold of her own tongue.

'Anyway,' Eamon continued, 'every night, every single night, he would clean the boots and put them back in their box beside his bed and he would fall asleep looking at them.'

'Aw,' Anna smiled lovingly at her husband.

'Margaret wrote to me one day, a year or so later, saying the boots didn't fit anymore. 'Course not, boy's feet grow like weeds. She gave them to someone who needed them and when Johnny found out…' Eamon shook his head slowly with an amused grin. 'It was the gravest offense in the world for him. I still remember going home a few months later and he told me how his mother had betrayed him.'

'You have to understand, I really liked those boots,' John tried to justify. 'I had eyed them for a long time...black on black almost up to your knee, with a perfect heel and leather laces. I remember going to school and being so proud to be seen in them.'

'You know, Will,' Eamon turned to his grandson with a serious look on his face. 'When your dad would fall ill, I would always bring him something when I was in home port...a treat or a toy. He would wait for me to arrive home...I still remember him sitting there by the fire, his little feet soaking in a basin filled with hot water, a blanket around his shoulders, shivering, pale faced and watery eyes, and when I entered that door he would light up and smile at me, expecting me to take something out of my pocket. He was just about your age when I gave him a boat, just like the one you have. He loved that boat, remember, John?'

John nodded.

'You remind me of your dad. You have the same soul,' Eamon told William. 'The same flame. You like the same things too!'

'Dad doesn't like pirates.' William wrinkled his nose.

'Well, he did back then. He loved pirates and boats. He would say he wanted to be just like me when he grew up, but that all changed, I reckon.'

'Maybe...if you had stayed with your family it wouldn't have,' John said. 'Instead, you made me hate them.'

There was silence after his words, only the sound of the twin's babbling could be heard. John sighed, regretting immediately what he had said. The last thing he wanted was to ruin their night, but sometimes...sometimes he just couldn't control his words.

'Well...but that's in the past now, isn't it? You two are making progress.' Anna tried to lighten up the mood, rocking Finn in her arms, the girls were getting hungry. It was almost time for their last feeding of the day.

'He's right, Anna,' Eamon spoke. 'It was all my fault...there's nothing I can do now. I wish there was but…'

'You are doing something,' Anna insisted. 'You're here with us, aren't you? Isn't he, John?' She tried to make her husband talk again. She knew the brooding had taken hold as soon as the words left his mouth.

'Indeed he is,' John replied, nodding.

'And are you glad for that?' Eamon asked his son.

'Strangely enough...I am.'

A couple of hours later their night came to an end. The old man had stayed longer than usual, telling more stories about John's early youth. William had been curious, asking if his dad had done this or that. Many answers had surprised the boy, and even Anna for that matter, especially when Eamon told them that John had been terrible with his letters at first. A stubborn lad he had been, preferring to spend his time collecting buttons and lining them up in neat lines on the floor, than going to school. Thankfully, that had changed when he found out that reading could take him to a million places, all without leaving home.

'Well, goodnight to you, son,' Eamon said, standing at the door with John. Anna was already upstairs with the children, ready to put the little ones to sleep.

'Goodnight, Father.'

'You know…' the old man hesitated at first. 'It makes me happy to know you're glad to have me here. I've always wanted to hear that from you.'

John took a deep breath, looking at the man with a sincere expression on his face. 'I realised that...I've lived angry for too long, you've been away for too long...I'll take the time we have left. I'll gladly take it, and in part, for Mother's sake.'

Eamon chuckled, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. 'You and Anna are two of a kind. Her words, your sentiment...she's done you good.'

'And I make sure to always let her know it.'

'You do that...for your own sake. Night, son.'

'Night, Father.'

The old man walked out into the blowing snow, through the back garden to the rear hotel door. John took a moment just to watch him. Indeed he was glad to have his father there and true, it had been Anna who convinced him so. But as Eamon Bates would say 'Anna Bates always knows best.'

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January 18th, 1928 10:40 pm

The children are all tucked into bed and I thought I'd take this time to write, while John is still downstairs with his father.

Hopefully, we'll get more sleep than we did last night. My poor Will. But he's much better tonight. No fever, thank the Lord and baking soda. Now don't laugh, because, I swear, it does work. When we were all in service and one of us fell ill, Mrs Hughes made us all take it. It is a bit salty, but not as bad as my men let on. They'll thank me for it.

That snowing and blowing has not let up one bit. I can hear it hitting against the windows and it makes me shiver. Pity the poor souls who have to work in it tomorrow.

Although Will is feeling better I might keep him home again. We'll see how he feels in the morning. I suppose if I bundle him up, the few steps to the back door of the hotel might do him good. Fresh air and all. I could make up a warm nest for him in front of the office fireplace. I know John is much happier when we're all together. We're all happier.

I hear John coming up the stairs now. He'll check on Will and then come to bed, so I'll end this.

~ Anna Bates

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A/N The general belief is that when taken internally, baking soda (bicarbonate of soda) helps to maintain the pH balance in your bloodstream. The substance has an alkalizing effect on the body, which is linked to better health and disease prevention. Although it has many supporters, this theory has not been scientifically proven.

If you want to follow the recipe prescribed by a prominent Dr. Cheney in 1924 (that is still valid today), here it is. Use it if you have or have been exposed to a cold or the flu:

Day 1: take ½ teaspoon of baking soda diluted in a glass of cold water, six times a day, at about two-hour intervals.

Day 2: take ½ teaspoon of baking soda diluted in a glass of cold water, four times a day.

Day 3: take ½ teaspoon of baking soda diluted in a glass of cold water in the morning and in the evening.

After this initial period, take ½ teaspoon of baking soda diluted in a glass of cold water every morning until your symptoms are gone or the threat has passed.