Let There Be Light (15 page)

Jenny sat down on the bed and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. “No, Mama. It was only a bad dream. Papa is still alive. He’ll be coming home to us soon.”

Myrna’s body began to shudder. Jenny pulled back and looked into her tear-misted eyes. Her skin was flushed and her eyes had taken on the hollow look Jenny had seen so many times before.

“Mama, settle down now,” she said softly. “You just had another one of your bad dreams. It’s morning. You rest while I go fix you some breakfast.”

Myrna nodded and closed her eyes.

Jenny stood up and wiped a palm over her own tired face. Her mother had been having one bad dream after another for the past three nights, and Jenny had slept no more than a couple of hours each of those nights.

Her eyes were red-rimmed. She looked almost as ravaged as the tormented woman who lay under the blankets.

Jenny’s brow furrowed as she looked down at the face that once was so lovely.
She’s getting steadily worse. It was bad enough when my baby brother died, but this torment over Papa is devastating. I’m watching her sinking deeper into her depression every day. She’s dying a little at a time right before my eyes
.

Tears filled Jenny’s eyes and were spilling down her cheeks. She started to turn away, but stopped when she heard her mother say weakly, “Jenny …”

She bent over her. “Yes, Mama?”

Myrna lifted a trembling hand toward her. Jenny took hold of it. “Honey, I … I’m sorry to be such a problem.”

Jenny squeezed the hand. “Mama, you’re not a problem. I love you. I just wish I could make everything all right for you.”

The sun was filling the room with its bright glow. Myrna looked up at her daughter admiringly, thinking how trim and statuesque she was. Her sky blue eyes were so full of expression. The blond locks were so radiant that to Myrna they seemed a halo. “Thank you for being so good to me, honey.”

Jenny managed a smile and caressed her mother’s pale cheek. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sweet Mama. You just relax. You’ll have breakfast in bed like the last two mornings. Only today I won’t have to leave you and go to work. It’s my day off. I will have to be gone for a little while, though. I’m going to go fetch Dr. Griffin for you. He isn’t due for four more days, but I want him to know about these bad dreams that have so upset you these past three nights. I’ll ask him to come see you today.”

Myrna nodded.

Jenny bent down and kissed her mother’s forehead. “I’ll wash my face and brush my hair, then I’ll fix your breakfast.”

Myrna nodded again, and Jenny hurried through the door. She went first to the kitchen where she built a fire in the cookstove. Leaving it to pop and crackle, she went to her own room, where she poured water into the wash basin and washed her face. When she was drying it, she looked in the mirror and said to her reflection, “Jenny, it’s a good thing Nate’s not here to look at you. You look like death warmed over.”

She brushed her hair, then combed it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, using two long hairpins to hold it in place. Going to the closet, she donned a warm brown dress trimmed with a wide cream-colored bertha collar. She pinched her cheeks to bring some rose into them, then powdered her face lightly.

Noting again the weary look in her eyes, she threw palms upward and said, “That’s as good as it’s going to get today.”

In the kitchen, Jenny put another log on the fire, then dipped water from the bucket, filled the teakettle, and set it on the stove. She also filled a small pot, and while both were heating, she scooped a small measure of oatmeal from the tin and poured it into the pot.

She sat down at the table, and while she waited for the water to boil in both pot and teakettle, Jenny’s thoughts ran to Nate. She wondered where he was in the South and what he might be facing
that day. Shaking her head to rid her mind of his danger, she began daydreaming about the day Nate would come home to her. She pictured that first moment, imagining how wonderful it would be. She was forming a mental image of their wedding when the teakettle began to whistle, spewing hot water from its spout that sizzled in small drops on the stove. As she rose from the table and stepped to the stove, a dark thought pressed itself into her mind:
Nate isn’t coming home. And neither is Papa. They’re both dead and buried beneath the sod somewhere in Southern soil
.

“No!” she said aloud. “No! They both must come home!”

Her heart was still heavy and doubtful as she hurriedly finished preparing her mother’s breakfast. She made the tray as attractive and tempting as possible, and carried it up the hall toward her mother’s room. Along with the teapot, cups, and bowl of oatmeal, was the bottle of paraldehyde.

When she entered the room, she was astonished to see her mother sitting up, with her back resting against a couple of pillows. This thrilled her, but her elation was short-lived when she moved up to the bed and saw the tragic emptiness in her mother’s eyes.

Jenny placed the tray on the bedside table. “Okay, Mama. Here’s some hot tea and some oatmeal.”

Myrna frowned when she saw only one cereal bowl. “Aren’t you going to eat, dear?”

“I’m just not hungry right now, Mama. I brought two cups, though, so I could have some tea with you.”

Jenny poured the tea into a cup, let her mother sip it for a moment, then set it down and picked up the bowl of hot oatmeal and placed a spoon in it. “Here you go, Mama. See if you can eat it all, okay? Then I’ll give you your paraldehyde.”

Taking the bowl, Myrna lifted the spoon and began eating. Jenny poured tea into the other cup, and sipped it slowly. When Myrna had eaten half the oatmeal, she said, “Honey, that’s all I can do.”

Jenny sighed, took the bowl, and put it on the tray. She gave her mother a heavy dose of paraldehyde, then handed her the cup of tea to finish.

Myrna took a couple more sips of tea, then handed the cup to Jenny.

“Thank you, honey.” With that, she laid her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

Gazing down at her mother’s pallid features brought tears of frustration to Jenny’s eyes. “I’m so sorry that your life has turned out like this, Mama. So very sorry.”

Myrna opened her dreary eyes and set them on Jenny, but did not respond.

“Mama, you need to lie down again. Let me help you.”

When she had her mother lying comfortably, Jenny said, “See if you can nap a little, Mama. I’m going after Dr. Griffin. I’ll be back shortly.”

Jenny leaned down and planted a kiss on Myrna’s forehead, then picked up the tray and carried it back to the kitchen. Making quick work of the cleanup job, she put on her coat and returned to her mother’s room to check on her. When she stopped at the door and saw that her mother was sleeping, she turned and hurried out the front door of the house.

It was a magnificent autumn day. The air was brisk under a brilliant blue sky. The trees still had a few golden red leaves, and as she walked down the street, the beauty of it all overwhelmed her. As she drew within a block of the doctor’s office, she said, “Please, Dr. Griffin, please help my mama.”

When Jenny returned to the house and stepped up on the front porch, she saw her mother at the parlor window, sitting in her rocking chair. She was weeping and wringing her hands, saying something Jenny could not distinguish.

Jenny hurried inside and rushed toward the parlor. Even before she reached the parlor door, she could hear her mother babbling. “He’s dead! My poor William is dead! He will never come home to me!”

Jenny dashed to her and took hold of her hands. “Mama, listen to me! Papa isn’t dead. He’s alive and will come home to you when the War is over.”

“No, Jenny! Your papa is dead! He’s never coming home!”

“Dr. Griffin will be coming soon, Mama. He had some patients
with appointments, but as soon as he finishes with them, he’ll be here. He will be able to help you.”

Myrna sniffed. “Jenny, if your papa doesn’t come home, nobody can help me! I’ll just collapse and die.”

“Mama, I’m going to give you some more paraldehyde. You’ve got to settle down. I’ll be right b—”

Jenny’s words were interrupted by a knock on the front door.

Myrna’s eyes widened. “Honey, did you lock the door? That may be your papa! Maybe he’s home! If the door was unlocked, he would come in. Hurry, honey! Go let your papa in!”

Jenny felt her stomach twist. “Mama, the War isn’t over. It can’t be Papa. It’s probably Dr. Griffin.”

Myrna frowned, her eyes losing focus. “Dr. Griffin?”

“Could be. I had to walk back. He has a horse and buggy.”

Myrna blinked and shook her head, as if there were cobwebs trying to clog her brain. Her eyes were wild. “Jenny! Your papa’s dead, isn’t he? He isn’t coming back … ever!”

There was another knock on the door.

“No, Mama. He’s not dead. Settle down. I’ve got to go to the door.”

Myrna threw her head back, and what burst from her lips was a shrill, frightened scream that echoed through the house.

Jenny ran into the hall and dashed to the door. When she opened it, she was glad to see the face of Dr. Adam Griffin.

“Jenny, is that your mother screaming?”

“Yes. Please hurry. Like I told you this morning, she thinks Papa is dead.”

Myrna was still screaming. The doctor bolted ahead of Jenny, who followed close on his heels. When they entered the parlor, Myrna was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, her head bobbing loosely on her neck. Her mouth hung open and her blank, staring eyes were at a demented angle. She stopped screaming when she saw the doctor come in. “He’s dead, Doctor. William is dead. He isn’t coming home. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it!”

Griffin leaned down. “Mrs. Linden, let’s get you up here on the sofa.”

She looked at him blankly as he set his medical bag down, took
hold of her arms, lifted her to her feet, and eased her down on the sofa. He knelt in front of her and took hold of both trembling hands. “Mrs. Linden, there is no reason to believe that your husband is dead.”

“Yes, there is. I saw cannonballs explode and kill him! I saw it, Doctor! I saw it!”

While Jenny looked on, biting her lips, Griffin worked with Myrna for several minutes, trying to convince her that what she saw was only a dream. She kept shaking her head, insisting that William was dead and would never be coming home.

When Griffin saw that talking to her would do no good, he picked her up in his arms and said to Jenny, “When did she last have a dose of paraldehyde?”

“This morning, just before I came to your office. I gave her an extra large dose. I was about to give her some more when you knocked on the door.”

“All right. Would you bring my bag? I have some in there. I’ll give her some.”

When they entered Myrna’s room, the doctor laid her on the bed. She continued to stare at him while mumbling something indistinguishable in a dazed tone of voice. Dr. Griffin asked Jenny for some water and a cup. She watched him mix sedative powders and saw her mother get a heavy dose of paraldehyde, along with the strong sedative.

A few minutes later, Myrna was fast asleep.

Dr. Griffin set compassionate eyes on the worried daughter and said, “Jenny, I’ll leave the rest of this paraldehyde and these sedative powders with you. Give both of them to her in the dosage I just did three times a day. I’ll write them down for you. Make the last one just before her bedtime.”

After writing the dosage down on a slip of paper, he gave it to Jenny. “I’ll be back about this time tomorrow to check on her. If you need me before then, send a neighbor to let me know.”

Jenny nodded, her face void of color. “All right, Doctor. Thank you.”

When Dr. Griffin was gone, Jenny sat down on the overstuffed chair near her mother’s bed. She looked at her sleeping mother for a
long moment, then tears surfaced. She bent her head down and put her hands over her face. “Oh, Papa, we need you here so very much. I’m afraid Mama’s going to do just as she said … collapse and die. All the medicine in the world isn’t going to help her if she gives up on living. She needs you, Papa. And so do I.”

Jenny sniffled and wiped tears with the palms of her hands. As she was doing so, her thoughts went to Nate Conrad. An ache rose in her heart. She stood up, made sure her mother was still sleeping, left the room, and made her way down the hall to her own room.

She was still sniffling some when she sat down at her small desk. With shaking hands, she took out paper and pen, thumbed tears from her eyes, and concentrated on what she wanted to say to the man she loved.

Memories of her times with Nate flooded her mind. They served only to more intensify the ache in her heart. It took a moment to calm herself, then Jenny dipped the pen in the inkwell and began to write.

By the time she had signed the letter, Jenny was weeping. She pressed it close to her face as if it were Nate. “Oh, darling, I love you so very much. I hope somehow, wherever you are, you can feel the presence of my love and my thoughts.”

When she stopped weeping and dried her face with a handkerchief from a desk drawer, Jenny saw that her tears had smeared the letter so that most of it was unreadable. She used a blotter to dry the paper, then folded and planted a kiss on it. She then opened the drawer that held the small bundle of letters and placed it on top of the others.