“Thank you.” I muttered again, feeling a tear now trickling down my cheek. Their kindness was almost too much to bear.
We helped open the gates, then went to the cottage. I heard the sound of cranking, then the pop-popping sound as the engine came to life The big vehicle jerked forward in a rather hesitant manner as if its driver was not the most skilled, but at this stage I didn’t care. Mrs. McCreedy followed me in through the cottage door. I picked up the lamp and carried it up the stairs. I could hear Daniel’s ragged breathing a mile away. So could Mrs. McCreedy.
“He sounds terrible,” she said. “I reckon it’s turned to pneumonia. That’s how my poor husband went, God rest his soul.” And she crossed herself.
I went over to Daniel and touched his burning forehead. He moaned again. All I could think was that I had made light of his illness when he had probably been rather sick for the past two days. It felt as if I had somehow brought this on myself.
“I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Mrs. McCreedy said, going down the stairs and leaving us alone.
It seemed an eternity before I heard the sounds of a motor again and the scrunch of tires on the gravel. Then I heard the front door open.
“Hello?” a voice called.
“Up here, doctor,” I called and heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Now what have we got here?” he asked. “I hope it’s serious. I’m getting too old to be dragged from my bed at three in the morning.”
Before I could answer he looked at Daniel and shook his head. “My, my. That doesn’t sound good, does it?”
His manner changed and he was all business. He undid Daniel’s nightshirt, brought out his stethoscope, and listened to Daniel’s chest. He took Daniel’s temperature, making little tut-tutting noises. Then he looked up at me. “I’m afraid I’ve no good news,” he said. “As you may have gathered, your husband has developed an inflammation on the chest. To put it shortly, pneumonia. There’s not much we can do for him but make him comfortable and hope for the best. In my early days in medicine we’d have tried a purge or even a bloodletting, but both those are pooh-poohed in these days of modern medicine. All I can suggest is to keep the windows closed. Keep him bundled up and try to sweat it out of him. If he can drink give him water.”
“That’s all? Would something like aspirin help?”
He gave me a cold stare. “I’m still suspicious of these newfangled medicines, young lady. From all I’ve heard, aspirin is helpful for headaches,” he said. “I’ve no doubt he’s got a whale of a headache at this moment but it’s the least of his problems. No, I’m afraid all you can do is make him comfortable, let him ride it out, and pray.”
He gathered up his things and stuffed the stethoscope into the black bag. “I’ll return in the morning,” he said. “And in the meantime—” he put a hand on my arm. “I’m afraid you should prepare yourself for the worst. The chances of survival are not ever the best with pneumonia.”
“Would he be better off in a hospital?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Would they be able to do more for him there?”
“There’s nothing they could do for him in our small hospital,” he said, “and the ride to Providence over bumpy roads could well finish him off. But he looks like a fit and active fellow. So we won’t give up hope, will we?” He attempted a positive nod that didn’t exactly come off as sincere. Then he patted my arm and left.
Eighteen
“You’ll be all right alone with him, will you?” Mrs. McCreedy asked, setting a tea cup down beside me. “I should be getting back to the big house. I don’t like to—I mean it will soon be dawn and I need to make sure those girls are up to light the fires in the bedrooms.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Thank you. There’s nothing you could do anyway,” I said, “except say a prayer for him.”
“I’ll do that, my dear. I’ll say a rosary. We’ll put him in the hands of Our Lady. She’ll take good care of him.”
I nodded, wishing I had her faith. Presumably she’d said a rosary when her husband was dying of pneumonia and it hadn’t helped. She got as far as the door, then turned back. “Look, I’m sorry I was short with you the other evening,” she said. “When you came about the chicken. I had no idea your man was so poorly. You startled me, you see. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.”
“I understand,” I said. “You gave me a turn too when I opened that door and saw your face on the other side.”