Spindle(66)

“She’s still here? I’ve no other symptoms, but I suspect they will show up soon.” Briar thought about the progression from headache, to fever, sore throat, to leg paralysis, then weeks of recovery… At least she hoped there would be a recovery.

Miss Olive pulled her into the shade. “What happened?”

Briar shook her head. She couldn’t tell her boardinghouse keeper that she pricked her finger on a magical spindle. Instead of calling for the doctor, they’d be sending Briar to an asylum.

“I’m here. What’s happened?” Fanny ran to Briar’s side. She felt Briar’s forehead. “Miss Olive, please find us a ride to the cottage. We need to leave as soon as possible. Mim, get me a cold cloth.”

Her orders dispatched, Fanny focused her attention on Briar. “Was it the spindle?”

Briar nodded. “It was an accident. The overseer startled me.” She rubbed her temples. The pressure was setting in, making it difficult for her to think. “They’re getting sick from that sticky substance on the spindle. The girls are licking it.”

“They what?” Fanny sounded shocked. “I thought maybe that one girl was addled in the brain. The rest followed suit?”

“It became a dare to the other girls to get by me and taste the syrup from the spindle.”

“So that is how it’s being spread.”

“Maribelle,” Briar whispered. She gripped Miss Fanny’s arms. “She lives in the shanties on the edge of town with her family. She’s only ten and she completed the dare today. Such a wee thing, it’s bound to affect her quickly. I-I made her spit and rinse her mouth.” Briar should have taken better care of the child. As much care as she would have given to Pansy.

“Miss Olive is taking care of Maribelle. Briar? Briar. Stay with me.”

Fanny’s voice was growing faint, her face dark, as if Briar was falling into a deep tunnel, falling further, falling faster, falling deeper. She couldn’t move, only fall.

Fanny felt Briar’s forehead again. “Oh dear. It’s starting.”





Chapter Thirty-Five



What happened next all came in a blur. There was Ethel, who bundled Briar up and sat beside her in the wagon. Briar had no idea whose wagon it was; the sun was too bright in her eyes, making them tear up in pain. There were voices, but it sounded like they were talking underwater. Distant and distorted. A wet cloth was pressed to her forehead, but soon the cloth was as hot as her skin and offered no relief.

She tried to keep her thoughts and prayers focused on little Maribelle, but her mind kept slipping into nothingness. When a bump jostled her, she woke, only to wish she hadn’t. She tried to lift her head to see what was crushing her lower legs. They hurt and she wanted the weight off, but her mouth wouldn’t say the words. A moan finally escaped and Ethel got busy wiping her brow again.

“It’s hitting her faster than the others,” Ethel said. “I’m worried.”

Next thing Briar was aware of was being carried, feeling the gentle thump, thump of footsteps. It reminded her of when she was a child and her dad would carry her off to bed if she’d fallen asleep in the wagon. It was a comforting feeling, even if her body felt aflame. She was transferred to her bed, and refreshingly cool water was applied to her forehead.

“I’ll take it from here,” said Fanny. “Thank you, dears.”

“I have to get back, but you should stay. For when she wakes up.” The voice was Ethel’s.

“No. No, I can’t. I’m leaving, too.”

A deep voice. A man’s voice. Henry? Could Henry be home and back at the cottage? Oh Henry. It would be good to see him again. She missed him terribly. Missed the way he would tease her on their walks. How kind he was to the children. Henry, sweet Henry.

“I have to leave for Burlington.” He brushed her hair away from her forehead. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Get better soon, okay?”

A flash of light as the door opened, then back to darkness. A jingle of reins and clomp of hooves. Wheeler. It was Wheeler who carried her in. But he wasn’t staying.

Where was Henry? He was missing. He was the one who should be here. Why wasn’t he here? He loved it here.

And where were the children? She couldn’t hear them playing. It was too quiet in the little cottage, as if everyone were holding their breath.

She tried to tell them it would be okay, but her mouth wasn’t working. So hot. So raw. She tried to fight the darkness but it was too strong. She let it overtake her.

When she came to next, there was a glow of candlelight and hushed voices of the children and scraping of plates. It was comforting to be home with family, even if she wasn’t at the table with them. She turned her head, letting her eyes adjust to the light. Even the dim, smoky haze was too much for her sensitive eyes, and she closed them again, but not before Benny saw her.

“She’s awake.”

“Briar?” Pansy came over, her sweet voice thick with concern. “Are you alive?”

Briar forced herself to smile. At least she hoped it was a smile. Her body didn’t seem to be responding to the commands she tried to give it.

“Fanny, look. She’s okay.”

“All right, child. Come away and finish your supper.”

“Will we get polio, too?” asked Jack. Last winter both boys came down with the chicken pox and, once the worst was over, thought it great fun to be allowed to eat and play in bed. Until they grew so restless they were begging to be let outside.