Hope at Dawn (19 page)

Once she’d maneuvered the mattress into the school, she used her coat to wipe it free of dirt and damp. She positioned it between Friedrick’s blanket and the stove and glanced at the clock. The doctor was already ten minutes later than he’d promised.

Livy did her best to squelch her worry and squatted next to Friedrick. “I’m going to help you onto a mattress, Friedrick.”

His only answer was a throat-tearing cough.

“Here goes,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

She gripped him beneath the arms and pulled him toward the mattress. His full weight dragged at her hands. She clutched tighter to his shirt.

A low groan fell from Friedrick’s lips. “Hurts.”

“I know it hurts,” Livy said between labored breaths. She hated to add to his pain, but he would be much more comfortable in a minute. “This will help.”

She hauled his upper body onto the mattress, then his legs and feet. “That’s better, isn’t it?” She removed his boots and set them near the stove to dry.

Satisfied with the new arrangement, Livy lit the lamp she kept in the classroom for gloomy days. The smell of Mrs. Keller’s homemade bread filled the room. Perhaps Friedrick would eat a little more, now that he was off the hard floor. She tore a piece of bread from the loaf and softened it with some of the water.

“I’ve got a little bread.” She brought the morsel to Friedrick’s mouth, but he didn’t seem to be aware of her.

“No, no. Don’t take it,” he muttered, his head jerking from side to side. Beads of sweat had formed once more on his forehead. “No, you can’t have it.” He shuddered as he murmured something Livy couldn’t understand.

Another peek at the clock wound Livy’s stomach into tighter knots. Had the doctor decided against coming? What would she do then? She had no idea how else to help Friedrick. She lifted his hand and held it firmly between hers.

“It’s going to be okay,” she told him, though the words tasted like lies on her tongue. “You’re going to be okay.”

A soft knock had her jumping to her feet. Livy raced to the door and threw it open. “Dr. Miller?”

“Miss Campbell.” The doctor removed his hat and entered the school. “I am sorry I am so late.”

“He’s over here.” Livy motioned for the man to come farther inside, but Dr. Miller remained near the door.

“Do you know where Friedrick was earlier today?”

Livy studied his fatigued face and piercing hazel eyes and instinctively knew she could trust him. “He was at the jail. He went in Elsa’s place.”

“Yes. Friedrick shared a cell with an old man named Peter Hoffmann. Peter took sick today, so he and Friedrick were released early.”

With an impatient nod, Livy took a step toward Friedrick. “No wonder Friedrick’s ill then.”

“You do not understand, Miss Campbell.” The doctor reached out to stop her with a hand to her elbow. “I am late because I was at the Hoffmann home. Peter is dead.”

“Dead?” Livy whirled to face him, her breath seizing in her throat. “From a cold?”

Dr. Miller lowered his hand and shook his head. “He did not have a cold, and I do not believe Friedrick does either.”

“Then what is it?” A dull roar filled Livy’s ears.

“It is a form of influenza. Something I have not seen before.” He moved past her into the room and set his doctor bag on one of the children’s desks. “I have reports from a colleague this illness is striking hard against those young and strong like Friedrick. In several cases, it has proven to be deadly.”

The roar grew louder, almost drowning out the doctor’s last words. The room grew darker at the edges of Livy’s vision.

“Please, sit down, Miss Campbell.”

Livy felt him guide her to a desk, where she sank into the tight space of the seat.
Friedrick could die?
Like Blanche and Tom?
She bit her cheek hard enough to draw blood, though she barely noticed the coppery taste on her tongue. Friedrick couldn’t leave her now, not when she was beginning to realize how much she needed him. Her day—her life—wasn’t complete without his friendship. Or his smile, or his gentle teasing, or the strength of his touch.

Her mind shied away from the horrible possibility, lighting on something she could focus on. “What can I do?”

“Good girl.” The doctor drew a stethoscope from his bag and knelt beside the mattress. “First you must close down the school. No one is to enter this building. Especially not his mother or siblings. They could carry the illness back to Friedrick’s father and he would not survive it.” He bent down and listened to Friedrick’s chest.

Livy clasped her trembling hands together as she watched.

“His heart and lungs sound good, for now.” Dr. Miller felt Friedrick’s forehead and frowned. “He has the high fever.” His gaze moved from her to the bucket of water nearby. “Continue to keep him cool and try to get him to drink. He may not want food, but do your best to keep water or broth in him.”

The doctor returned his stethoscope to his bag and removed a small round jar. Livy recognized it as Vicks VapoRub. She’d seen it in the drugstore back home.

“Put this salve on his chest at least once a day.” He stood and passed her the jar. “I am sorry you must be the one to be here, Miss Campbell. But we cannot afford to have someone else looking after him, someone who hasn’t been exposed to the influenza yet. My hope is your strong constitution will keep you from catching it as well.”

Livy forced herself to her feet. The concern inside her had grown to a dull pain in her chest. A headache threatened at her temples. “I understand. Is there anything else I can do for him?”

Dr. Miller stared down at Friedrick, then back at Livy. “You can pray, Miss Campbell.”

With his eyes shut against the pain in his head, Friedrick sensed more than saw the spoon Livy presented to his mouth. He forced his lips open and accepted the broth. Livy murmured her approval. He wanted to make her happy, but the slashing coughs and fatigue had drained him of all energy. A few swallows of broth were all he could manage from time to time.

How long had he been here in the school? Hours? Days? His family must be sick with worry. He needed to get well, if only his traitorous body would cooperate.

“Can you try a little more?” Livy coaxed.

Friedrick called on every ounce of strength within him to slurp more of the hot liquid. A wracking cough emanated from his throat, causing him to choke and sputter. Livy immediately lifted his shoulders and held him through the coughing spell. He hated being the invalid—he wanted to be the one holding and comforting her, not the other way around.

“Here’s some water.” She helped him drink.

Slowly the coughing subsided, but Friedrick’s lungs still burned from the ordeal. “Need to…lie down.” Livy eased him back onto his mattress. He gulped in air, every nerve aching. The physical torment never completely ceased; even his fitful sleeping only temporarily numbed the pain. Would he survive this?

As if reading his thoughts, Livy peered down at him, her green eyes almost black in the dim light. “I know it hurts something awful, Friedrick,” she said in a fierce whisper. “But you must keep fighting. You’re going to get well. All right?” Her voice snagged with emotion. Several tears dripped down her face. Despite all she’d been through since coming to Hilden, he’d only ever seen her come close to crying once—over Tom’s death.

Friedrick lifted his arm, though it trembled at the effort, and brushed a tear from her chin. She seized his hand and pressed her lips to his knuckles. Her cool touch momentarily relieved his pain and exhaustion. She wore the same blouse and skirt she had on when he’d stumbled to her cabin, a testament to her vigilant care.

“I’m not giving up,” he replied in a hoarse voice.

She offered him a watery smile. “Good, because we need you.”

We.
The word sounded as joyous and heavenly as angel choirs. “More broth…” He wasn’t the least bit hungry, but he wanted to see Livy smile again.

Sure enough, she rewarded his words with a warm smile and reached for the bowl, her blond hair falling across her face. It was no longer confined in a bun, the way she usually wore it, but reached below her shoulders. She’d never looked more beautiful to him.

Friedrick made himself eat until he could stand no more, then he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes again. Livy remained next to him, her fingers stroking his jaw, his forehead. He fell asleep with a silent prayer on his lips—
Thank you, Lord.
Thank you
for Livy.

Someone rapped on the school door. “Miss Campbell?” a female voice called out. “Livy? Are you there?”

Livy froze, the wet cloth in her hand halfway to Friedrick’s forehead. The visitor didn’t sound like Elsa or any of the neighbors who’d come to talk with her at the door during the past five days.

She set aside her rag and scrambled up. The person knocked again before she could ease the door open. Mrs. Norton stood in the alcove, a covered plate in her hand. Livy’s face drained of color. Had the woman heard about Friedrick? Or worse, about Livy caring for him, alone?

“Mrs. Norton?” she said with false brightness. She hurried out the door and shut it firmly behind her.

“I tried your cabin, but there was no answer.” The woman studied Livy and made a
tsking
noise in her throat. “Look how dedicated you are, to be here so late after school.”

Livy chose not to correct the misguided notion. “What brings you all the way out here?”
Into German-American territory
, she thought wryly.

“Oh, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your dear brother Tom.” The woman shook her head in remorse. “Such a tragedy to lose them so young.”

Sorrow washed over Livy, not for Tom alone, but for the man fighting for his life inside the school at this very minute. Livy cleared her throat to say, “Thank you for you thoughtfulness.” However ill-timed.

“I couldn’t very well let you starve in your grief.” Mrs. Norton hoisted the plate. “Shall I bring this inside?”

“No.” Livy’s harsh tone caused the woman to lift an eyebrow in surprise. She forced a smile as she took the plate. “What I mean is, I’ll run it over to my cabin.”

Mrs. Norton’s expression softened. “I’d love to see inside your classroom. Then I can tell your mother all about it my next letter.”

Panic coated Livy’s mouth. She couldn’t let Mrs. Norton in now. If anyone found out she was looking after Friedrick, they might both lose their jobs. Worse, the woman might contract Friedrick’s illness. Livy had strictly adhered to the doctor’s demands that no one enter the building until Friedrick was well.

“Our…um…classroom is rather messy right now.” It was certainly the truth. “Perhaps another time would be better.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was plain. “If you insist.”

“I’m afraid I must. You know how children are.”

“German ones especially, I’m sure.”

Livy gritted her teeth. “Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” The woman patted Livy’s hand and walked to the wagon parked in front of the school. “If there’s anything else you need, let us know.”

Livy waved in response as she crossed the yard to her cabin. She didn’t want to leave Friedrick, but she didn’t want to raise Mrs. Norton’s suspicions either by not taking the meal to her home as she’d said.

Slipping inside, Livy set the plate on the table and waited until she could no longer hear the woman’s wagon. She breathed a sigh of relief when she peeked out the door a few minutes later and found the road out front empty. With the plate in hand, she retraced her steps to the school.

The food smelled delicious, but she didn’t think she could stomach it. Worry continued to steal her appetite. She set the plate next to the others on her desk and returned to Friedrick’s side. Despite his will to eat and drink when she asked, his strength was ebbing away. Livy read it in his restless sleep and the thinning lines of his face.

“What else can I do?” she whispered, though she knew he couldn’t hear. He’d grown less and less aware of her the last two days. She’d done everything the doctor had asked, everything she could think of to help Friedrick.

Except pray.

The thought brought a wave of fear crashing over her. She hadn’t asked God for anything of real importance in years, except for Tom and Joel’s safety.

Livy lifted her hand and touched the light colored beard covering Friedrick’s jaw. The pain she would experience if she lost him would be worse than anything she’d yet felt. Which surely meant she ought to pray for him with more fervor than she’d ever done before.

Ashamed, she covered her face with her hands.
I’m so afraid, God
, she pleaded silently.
Afraid to ask for what I so desperately want. I care for Friedrick and I want him to live. Please let him live.
Tears threatened, but Livy swallowed them back, determined to finish.
But if Thy will is for something different…If Thou who sees and understands all must take him home, then…then…please help me accept that.

A strangled cry escaped her lips and she hurried to muffle the sound with her hand. Tears leaked down her fingers as she sobbed. All the heartache of the last year came rushing out. In its place, though, Livy felt a profound sense of peace. Whatever happened, God would see her and Friedrick through.

She curled up on her blanket next to Friedrick’s mattress and allowed herself to slip into the first real sleep she’d had in days.

F
riedrick opened his eyes to bright light. The absence of the intense aches and exhaustion made him wonder for a moment if he’d died. Then he turned his head and the light faded, replaced by an even better sight. Livy lay on the floor, her back to him. Her shoulders rose and fell with gentle breathing, her hair spread out behind her.

A lump of emotion filled his throat at the realization he had survived—thanks to the mercy of God and this woman lying near him. Her constant care had saved his life. He blinked to dispel the tears in his eyes. Lifting his weakened arms, he scrubbed his hands over the whiskers covering his jaw and chin.

Livy shifted in her sleep, turning toward him. Friedrick seized the chance to study her unawares. Her dark lashes rested against her smooth cheeks, her lips full and relaxed. What he wouldn’t give to see her like this every morning, as her husband.

Was such a dream possible? The misunderstanding and frustration between them had been resolved, leaving Friedrick hoping for more than friendship from her. So many people stood in their way, though—her beau back home, her family, some of his own people, including Elsa. And yet all the complications faded into unimportance when he stared at Livy’s lovely face.

Telling himself he needed to be certain she was real, he reached out and ran his thumb down her cheek and across her lower lip. Her skin felt warm and soft. Livy exhaled a sigh of contentment at his touch, stirring fire in his veins.

With great effort, Friedrick lowered his hand from her face. He wouldn’t take advantage of her boyfriend’s absence or their isolation, for that matter. Instead he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and set his feet on the floor. A dull ache permeated his muscles and his neck felt stiff, but at least he could move.

“Livy,” he called softly, resting his elbows on his knees.

She stirred and rubbed at her eyes. “What is it? Are you hungry?”

He chuckled as she tried to wake herself. “Starving, actually.”

“Starving?” she echoed sleepily. “That’s good…” He knew the instant his words penetrated her foggy mind. She suddenly sat up and gaped at him. “You’re—you’re better?”

He smiled at the confusion and delight in her green eyes. “Thanks to you.”

She crossed the short distance between them and threw her arms around his neck. Friedrick hugged her tight, relishing the chance to finally hold her close again—if only briefly.

“I wanted so badly to believe you’d get well,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “But I finally had to resign myself to what God wanted.” She eased back, allowing him to brush away the moisture from her face.

“Apparently He wanted me to live,” Friedrick teased.

Her lashes dropped as a shudder ran through her. “It’s no laughing matter, Friedrick. I couldn’t bear the thought of you…” Her words trailed off.

He tipped her chin up, so she’d look at him again. “I’m sorry to make light of it, Livy.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m just so happy to be alive…to be back with you.”

She sat still, her gaze intent on his. The yearning to kiss her nearly overpowered him, but he fought it back as he released her. “Is there something I can eat?”

Livy looked momentarily startled or disappointed. Did she want him to kiss her? If so, what did that mean about her feelings for her beau? “You name it, we probably have it,” she said with a laugh as she stood.

“Apple pie?” he threw out for fun.

She lifted a pie pan off her desk at the front of the room, her eyes sparkling in a way he hadn’t seen for some time. “How big of a slice do you want?”

Friedrick chuckled. “I’ll take the whole tin, if that’s all right.”

“Only if you share.” She brought the pie and two forks back to her blanket. “I haven’t eaten much myself and now I’m famished.”

They each took a bite. Friedrick closed his eyes at the tart goodness. He felt as though he hadn’t eaten properly in a month. “I hope Peter Hoffman received as good care as I did.”

Livy’s shoulders stiffened, her fork poised over the pie tin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wariness stealing some of the enjoyment of the pie. “Did something happen to Peter?”

The sorrow in Livy’s gaze told him the awful truth before she spoke it out loud. “I’m so sorry, Friedrick. He…he died the night you took sick. The doctor told me. That’s how he knew the influenza you had was very serious.”

Friedrick stabbed a piece of apple and stared at it. He hadn’t known Peter Hoffmann very well, but the man had inspired him with his courage. A profound sense of loss settled over him. Peter’s death served as another reminder of how close he’d come to leaving this world himself.

He cleared his throat. “Who brought all the food?” He waved his fork at the desk littered with plates.

“Elsa and some of the neighbors.” Livy took another bite of pie. “They were very kind, even the Kellers. I think my caring for you may have helped them see the light—maybe.” She threw him a smile.

“What about your family? Or your boyfriend?” he felt compelled to ask. “Will they understand when you tell them you cared for a German-American, here, alone?”

Livy stopped eating, her eyes on her lap. “I don’t need to tell Robert. He isn’t my beau anymore.”

Her announcement sent a ripple of shock through him, followed closely by sudden hope at the possibility of a future together, but Friedrick hid it behind a calm exterior. “Since when?” he asked in a casual tone.

“I ended things with him before I came to Hilden.” She fiddled with the fork in her hand. “I think he still clung to the idea of us being together, though.” Friedrick couldn’t fault the man for that. “But when I found him drunk after Tom’s memorial service, I told him not to contact me again.” She reached for another morsel of pie, her mouth tightened with determination.

Friedrick dropped his fork into the tin and captured her wrist before she could snag another bite. The realization that Livy was unattached infused him with new energy. He felt as though he could sprint home and back again. “You mean that? You’re done seeing him?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m through with letting him hurt me like that. I want…” She swallowed and blushed. The color only added to her appeal.

He bent toward her, his focus as much on her words as her lips. “What do you want, Livy?” Did she want him, despite all the obstacles in their way?

“I—”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Friedrick stifled an audible groan and sat back. Of all the moments, someone would choose to drop by the school. He released Livy’s hand so she could answer the door.

“That’s probably Mr. Keller.” Livy rose slowly to her feet. Her apologetic expression eased some of Friedrick’s annoyance at the disruption. The neighbors had been more than kind to him and Livy.

He listened to the murmur of conversation at the door, which was followed by a happy shout. Both Mr. and Mrs. Keller entered the room.

“Praise be to God,” Mrs. Keller said in German. She hurried over and gripped Friedrick’s face between her hands. “We will get you home right now. My husband will fetch the wagon.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Keller said, hurrying toward the door.

“Your mother has been beside herself with worry,” Mrs. Keller added. “She will be so happy.” She glanced at the untidy room and said to Livy in English, “I help clean?”

“Thank you, yes.”

The two of them set about gathering up the food and straightening the room. Friedrick watched helplessly for a few moments before he located his socks and boots. He pulled them on, though the simple task still took longer than normal.

His chance to renew his conversation with Livy never materialized, not with Mrs. Keller around. Her husband soon returned and told Friedrick the wagon was waiting out front.

“My children come next day you open,” Mr. Keller said to Livy. Mrs. Keller nodded agreement.

Livy glanced between them, her face incredulous. “For school?”

“Ha. Not cleaning lessons.” Mr. Keller laughed. “Surprised, no? You care for our Friedrick and now you teach my children.”

Livy grinned and grasped the man’s hand, propelling it up and down. “Thank you both so much.”

He pulled his hand back and waved at Friedrick. “We go now, boy. Come.” The man helped him onto his feet. Friedrick swayed a bit but remained upright.

Mrs. Keller and Livy led the way out of the school, their arms full of food. With Mr. Keller’s assistance, Friedrick shuffled after them.

Even at his height, Friedrick still had to keep his feet moving rapidly to keep up with Mr. Keller’s brisk pace. The man’s excitement was contagious, though. Friedrick couldn’t help smiling as Mr. Keller helped him into the wagon bed beside the food. He would be home soon.

Of course, that meant leaving Livy.

He managed to sit up as Mr. Keller and his wife climbed onto the seat above him. Livy stood beside the wagon, her hand resting on the worn wood.

“Thank you, Livy.” Friedrick covered her fingers with his. Would she sense all that he wanted to say but couldn’t in the Kellers’ company?

“You’re welcome, Friedrick.” Her green eyes deepened with emotion. “I’ll see you soon?” It came out a question. The wagon lurched forward, forcing Livy to jump back.

“The first moment I can,” he called to her.

Though his muscles screamed at him to lie down, he remained sitting until he could no longer see her standing, arms folded, beside the schoolhouse.

“Good morning, class.” Livy almost convinced herself with her cheerful tone. “It’s good to see all of you again. I would also like to extend a special welcome to the Kellers.” She motioned to John and his sisters. They smiled at her from their respective desks.

She mustered a smile in return as she rubbed at her tired eyes. Despite sleeping nearly a whole day after Friedrick had left for home, exhaustion still plagued her. Nursing him back to health, scrubbing the school from top to bottom in order to reopen it, and several restless nights had depleted her energy, leaving circles under her lashes.

She missed Friedrick terribly, especially after spending every waking moment with him. Surely a lifetime had passed, instead of a week, since she’d seen him last. Did she come as often to his mind as he did to hers?

“Miss Campbell?” Henry waved his arm from his seat at the back, returning Livy’s attention to the class.

“Yes, Henry.”

“Where did that poster go?”

Livy cocked her head in confusion. “I’m sorry, Henry. What are you talking about?”

“The liberty bond poster.” He pointed at the blackboard. “Where’d it go?”

As she turned toward the front wall, remembering rushed in. The poster—the one she’d burned the afternoon Friedrick had first taken ill. She hadn’t given much thought to the children noticing its absence or how to explain her change of heart.

Livy offered a quick prayer for courage and rotated to face her students. It was one thing to admit she’d made a mistake to Friedrick; it was quite another to do so to a group of children who’d placed their trust in her.

“As you can see, I removed the poster,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I decided its message was not one I wanted us to ponder over each school day. Which means…” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I was in error and I apologize.”

Henry’s face scrunched in puzzlement. “I thought that school fellow told you to put it up. Aren’t you gonna get in trouble?”

“Going to get in trouble,” Livy corrected. “Possibly. But I hope I will have the chance to explain to Mr. Foster that we do not need to hang a war bond poster in our classroom to remind us we are Americans.” The words resounded with clarity and truth in her own ears and strengthened her confidence in her decision to do away with the poster. “We show we are Americans by how we live. By how we cherish and honor freedom. By how we treat our fellow men and women. By how we act with strength and faith, not fear.”

Her speech sparked a sudden idea. Livy smiled, her earlier fatigue forgotten. “Which is why we will not be doing geography this morning. Instead we are going to draw our own posters.”

The children exchanged surprised looks. Excited conversations broke out among them like wildfires.

Livy clapped her hands to regain their attention. “I will turn you loose in a moment,” she said with a laugh. “Instructions first. I want you to draw something you feel best expresses your love for this country. Something that honors America and its founding virtues. Then we’ll place your posters around the room.”

She pulled out her drawing pencils and paper from her desk and had the children come up row by row. Once the students were engrossed in their assignment, Livy sat in her chair and placed a blank sheet of paper in front of herself. What should she draw?

She thought a minute, then began making strokes across the page. The images soon took shape beneath her hand, a simple black-and-white rendition of a scene Greta had described to her.

When she’d finished, Livy blew on the paper and studied her creation. It was a sketch of Friedrick reading from the Bible. Harlan and Greta were seated at his feet, their backs to the viewer, so their faces weren’t visible.

Livy crossed to the north windows and propped the picture up on one of the ledges. She stepped back to scrutinize her work. A genuine smile lifted her mouth. The simple picture represented her love of home and family and the freedom to teach the younger generation.

As the children completed their posters, they brought them to Livy to place on the various windowsills. There were flags, Fourth of July picnics, a soldier, families, and an impressive sketch of a naval ship by Henry. The sight of so many cherished drawings caused a temporary lump in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to dislodge it.

“Thank you,” she said as the students settled back into their seats. “I hope the superintendent will be as impressed with your efforts as I am.”

The rest of the day raced by, but Livy felt little of her earlier weariness. The thrill of doing something unconventional, and out of the ordinary, carried her through her lessons. It wasn’t until she bade the children good-bye that the exhaustion caught up with her again and she sat back on her desk with a sigh.