Home by Morning by Alexis Harrington Page B

just the grippe, though,” he reiterated. “That’s not such a bad thing, is it? Not for a young man like Ed. We’ve all had it at one time or another. Had it myself last spring. In fact, so did Cole, now that I think about it. I remember because Susannah had to practically tie him to his bed to keep him from working. She said the sooner he got well, the better off they’d all be. Most of us did get better.” He hitched his brows, then added, “Well, Doctor Vandermeer didn’t, and Eph Jacobsen, but they were getting on.”
    “Except this might be worse than the usual illness.”
    “Bah, I heard they’ve had an outbreak of some kind of Spanish flu on the East Coast, but they’re all jammed together back there with machines and smoky factories and such. Well, you know that better than the rest of us.” He gestured vaguely with his big farmer’s hand. “This is God’s country out here—clean air, simple living, wide-open spaces.”
    From the second floor came the bark of Eddie’s wretched, gurgling cough, an unnerving, hopeless sound. It had continued most of the night, preventing him from getting much rest. Horace turned his gaze to the top of the stairs, and a shadow of concern crossed his eyes. “Ed’s strong, he’ll be back on his feet in no time.” But his tone had lost some of its conviction.
    Jess squared her shoulders, as much to ease the tension and fatigue in them as to give him courage. “I certainly hope so, Mr. Cookson. I’m doing everything I can for him.”
    “Helen made up a bed in the back of the wagon so we can take him home.”
    “We probably don’t want to move him just yet,” she said, using the calm tone she saved for delivering dire news. “I’d intended to have Cole give Eddie a ride home last night. But after he collapsed here in the waiting room—well, I think it would be best for him to stay here for a while, at least until his fever breaks. In the meantime, you’ll want to contact his cantonment at Camp Lewis to let them know where he is.” She was careful not to add that she didn’t believe Eddie had reached the crisis point yet, but she sensed that Horace at last understood the seriousness of his son’s illness.
    Keeping his eyes on the stairs, he said, “I…oh…sure…I believe I’ll go up and visit with him for a moment.” He shuffled off toward the steps.
    Jess nodded and sat down in a nearby chair, fatigue weighing on her shoulders. She knew that Horace would be in for a rude surprise.
    Eddie, so vital and healthy yesterday, now had a dusky-blue tint to his nose, ears, and lips. And chances were good that he might not recognize his own father this morning.

     
    “Then next year, I could plant nasturtiums and climbing roses so they trail over the porch railing.” Amy moved back and forth across the front yard of Cole’s not-quite-finished house, explaining to him her plans for the landscape. She had already taken him on a tour of the interior, showing him her finishing touches on the painting, which she’d generously offered to undertake, despite the fact that they had no formal engagement between them yet. She’d started with bare walls and floors and transformed them into a real home. It had stood unfinished for nearly two years, waiting for its originally-intended mistress to see it completed. “I can get all the cuttings I need from the ladies on my committees. Won’t that be pretty?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    While Roscoe bounded around the brush, Amy pointed here and there, her lavender skirts brushing through the yellow grass, picking up seed tops along the way. Her honey hair was caught in a loose knot on top of her head and gleamed like a thoroughbred’s. Now and then, a breeze kicked up to snag a few strands that had escaped their pins. The sun, which had hidden behind a gray veil of clouds all day, had emerged for the last hour of daylight, casting lambent gold over the west-facing sage-and-cream-painted house, and over her. Amy was a very pretty