Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 9

Chapter Three

Pain woke her. Jeff was gone, and it was dark. Her groin was on fire. Emma swung her feet off the bed and reached for the purple bottle; she pulled the cork and took two big swallows. It numbed her tongue and throat. She corked the bottle and set it back on her table. The room blurred as she stood. “Thomas!” she yelled.

Her husband yanked open her door. “Yes, darling, what is it?”

“I need to make water, help me to my bedside bucket, please.”

“Right away, Emma. Here, lean on my shoulder, darling.” Thomas helped Emma sit on the chamber pot, and he waited until Emma was finished.

“And now help me into my kitchen and brew me some coffee, please.” Thomas helped her into her kitchen and sat her down in her breakfast chair.

Jeff looked up at his mama when she entered the kitchen. “Hi, Mama.” He watched his papa help her sit down at their long table.

“Evening darling, y’all had your supper yet?” she asked.

“Yeah, last night, we did, and we’re about to make our breakfast now. You hungry, honey?” asked Thomas.

“You saying I slept all day and night and didn’t know it?”

“You did. We was real quiet, Mama, so’s not to wake you. Me and Papa slept in my bed, didn’t we, Papa?”

“We e’nuff did. Now about breakfast?” Thomas queried as he set Emma down a mug of steaming coffee.

“Let me think about it while I sip my coffee. Right this minute I’m not hungry. What are y’all having?”

“I cooked the boy six flapjacks, Mother. That sound good to you? I’ll cook you some bacon to eat with them.”

“I don’t want food right now. I hope I can keep this coffee in my belly. So far I feel like throwing it back up.”

Monday, midmorning, Dr. Bass pulled up in his buggy to his patient’s hitch rail, stepped out, and tied his mare from habit. It wasn’t needed. His old mare wasn’t about to run away. Retrieving his black bag from the seat, he proceeded to the Nelson’s front door. He started to knock, when the door opened.

“Hello, Dr. Bass, I saw you drive your buggy into my yard. Come in, come in. Emma is lying down but she ain’t asleep yet. We was hopin’ you’d come early because she’s almost out of her medicine. Poor Emma’s been havin’ some god-awful pains down in her stomach, Doctor, and it hurts her so that sometimes she’s begins cryin’, and there ain’t a damn thing me or little Jeff can do to ease her pain. It’s just god-awful, Doctor Bass. I sure do wish you could make her well.”

“I do too, son, I do too. I hate pain more than you can ever imagine. Sometimes I’ve cried right along with my patients. You have no idea a’tall what this old man has witnessed in his long medical practice. Lead the way, son, I want to check on your darling.”

Thomas led Dr. Bass into Emma’s bedroom. “Emma, honey, you asleep? Dr. Bass is here, bright and early, to see you.”

The old doctor sat down in a straight-backed chair by Emma’s bed. “How are you feeling this Monday morn, child?” He leaned close and placed his hand on her forehead. “I do believe you’re running a slight fever, Emma, let’s check your temperature. Open your mouth for me, please.”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of buffalos, Dr. Bass, and it seems like I’m passing more blood each time I make water.”

“Thomas, you may now leave the room. I want to inspect my patient. I’ll holler when it’s time for you to come back in here. You may bring a pitcher of cold spring water for your wife when I call for you.”

Dr. Bass pulled up Emma’s gown and grimaced as he shook his head. The folded-up cloth between her legs was blood-soaked. He removed it and dropped it in an empty lard can by her bedside. He reached for another cloth nearby, folded it, and placed it between Emma’s legs and her bloomers. Blood was slowly seeping steadily from her womanhood. “When did you put that last cloth between your legs, Emma?”

“’Bout dawn, when I had to go make water.”

“You’re losing too much of your blood, girl.”

“What can I do to make it stop, Doctor?”

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask God, my child, because I don’t have any answer for you.”

The old doctor left two more bottles of laudanum. He promised to look in on her on Friday. After a very painful Wednesday night, Emma became delirious early Thursday morning. The pain down behind her belly became so intense, she commenced screaming for Thomas to kill her. Jeff became so distraught, he began crying. “Here, help me, boy. Help me hold your mama down while I make her swallow a huge dollop of this laudanum.” Thursday night, just after midnight, Emma gripped tight her husband’s arm, whispered she loved him, and smiled lovingly at her son Jeffery. Now with her pain quickly erased by another huge double dose of laudanum, Emma Anne Johnson Nelson closed her eyes and died quietly in her bed. She’d not reached her thirtieth birthday.