EIGHT
They had barely concealed him in time. The door to the cache had just closed when they heard the faint rumblings of the flock. Abigail dashed to the kitchen cupboard and then to the fire. The bundle of incense caught, and the sweet smoke filled the room, ridding the air of any trace of decay.
“Maggie, thy blouse.”
Somehow, in the struggle of moving Isham, her blouse had torn, leaving a noticeable enough gap to anyone who looked in her direction. And not something that would have happened just tending to Abigail in the house, per what the corporals thought she was doing.
“I’ll have to change.”
Abigail hastened to grab her one of her spare tops while Maggie undid the buttons. She had just taken the blouse off when Abigail came back. Her eyes flashed to Maggie’s chest. In Maggie’s haste, she’d forgotten that her scar would be exposed.
Maggie’s cheeks burned. She snatched the blouse from Abigail’s hand and turned her back.
What must she look like? Months had passed since the attack and she had never glanced down.
Her boldness extended as far as to run a finger along the scar ridge.
The puffiness of it had smoothed over time, but the ridge was still there.
The ragged line pronounced her disfigurement.
Before anything could be said, the ruckus grew louder outside as the men herded the last of the sheep into the field.
Maggie followed Abigail out onto the porch to watch. Mercifully, Sullivan disappeared into the barn as soon as the sheep settled. Griffen stood watching them, looking annoyed. Only Levi came to the house.
As soon as Levi had closed the door behind them, Abigail quietly informed him of all that had transpired. Levi was silent. Maggie worried that he was angry at them for bringing Isham inside instead of leaving him in the woods as Isham had requested.
But when Levi finally spoke, there was no anger in his voice. “It was the right thing to do. We will figure it out.”
The afternoon passed slowly. Levi eventually left to watch the flock while Maggie and Abigail scrounged up something to pass for a meal. Maggie brought the basket of food to the barn door.
“A repeat from this morning, I’m afraid,” she said to Sullivan.
If he noticed her change of wardrobe, he didn’t comment. “Thanks,” he muttered before shutting the door.
Well, that’s something to be thankful for.
His lack of conversation wasn’t troubling. If there was little said, there was little room for concern.
True to Abigail’s promise, as soon as it was dark, they brought Isham out of the cache. In just the few hours that had gone by, there was a visible change within Isham. The poison was spreading through his body.
Levi had a private conversation with Isham first, and then Maggie and Abigail joined him. Isham’s chest heaved with each breath while Abigail redressed the wound.
Maggie turned away from the too-familiar scene. She watched the lone candle’s flame burn. The beeswax dripped down the sides, falling onto the candlestick holder. Each drip trickled down, and the candle burned lower.
It was hypnotic—her mind emptied and she let go of the worry, exhaustion, and emotional pain.
Maybe this is what peace Levi and Abigail got from prayer.
A brief escape from the world. She imagined that God played with them, like pieces of a chess game.
When you prayed, just for a moment, He stopped moving the pieces.
Levi’s voice broke her concentration. “It’s late. Blow out the candle and go to bed, Abigail and Maggie. I will stay with our Friend tonight.”
They silently did his bidding, with Maggie taking her spot on the loft floor before Abigail could argue.
But try as they might, sleep evaded them.
They were on the brink of a calamity, and both knew it.
It had been a few days since Elijah left.
He was due to return soon. Would he notice the two soldiers taking up the barn?
And unless Levi’s prayers caused a miracle to transpire, Isham would be dead before that happened.
A returned-of-draft-age son, and the body of an escaped slave. Two things Sullivan and Griffen weren’t likely to miss.
Sounds of a scuffle brought Abigail and Maggie to their feet, and they rushed downstairs. They burst into the bedroom and saw Levi struggling to hold Isham down. One hand covered his mouth and the other pressed him back.
“He’s delirious,” Levi threw over his shoulder. “Quick, grab something to tie him down!”
Abigail ran to her dresser and tossed a pair of stockings to Maggie.
The three of them managed to wrestle Isham down and tied him to the bedposts.
His gangrenous leg oozed decaying pus and Maggie had to throw up in the corner.
Levi kept a hand over Isham’s mouth, but the muffled shouts were still louder than they needed to be. They must quiet him.
“Be calm, Friend. We’re here to help,” Levi tried to reason.
It didn’t work. Though Isham’s eyes were on them, he didn’t appear to see them.
“Is this from the gangrene?” Maggie asked as Isham thrashed about.
“Probably. Some grow confused as the disease spreads through the body. His fever is very high. Perhaps if there was a way to operate…things might be different.” Abigail looked despaired.
All eyes watched Isham’s tortured body wither as the bacteria claimed him. He would not have a peaceful death. Maggie’s eyes burned as she thought of his fight for freedom. Freedom that he would never have.
Somewhere, possibly far away, Henry was fighting. Gangrene wasn’t uncommon during the war. What if he were injured? Would he too face such a horrible fate?
She touched her own scar underneath her blouse. Henry had been the one to carefully tend her so that her wound hadn’t become infected.
The thought of Henry, combined with the stench of the room, made her hurry back to the corner and retch again into the chamber pot.
Neither Abigail nor Levi came to her aid. They were focused on the poor soul dying. Isham shook in agony.
“Sing to him, Abigail,” Levi whispered urgently as Isham began to shake, another bout of hysteria overtaking him.
Gently sitting next to Isham, Abigail lay a hand on his chest and sang softly. The words wrapped around the room.
On the third chorus, the glaze from Isham’s eyes lifted and his moaning ceased. His eyes travelled until they locked in on Abigail. When Levi was sure Isham wasn’t going to scream anymore, he took his hand off Isham’s mouth.
Abigail continued singing, not missing a beat as she rose and untied the bindings. Then, she sat back down and held Isham’s hand. When the song ended, Isham had tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t stop,” he said in a scratchy voice.
“Amazing grace! How sweet the soundThat saved a wretch like me!I once was lost, but now am found;Was blind, but now I see.”
She sang without ceasing. It was the only thing that seemed to take away Isham’s pain. When Abigail’s voice began to crack, she was forced to pause and Isham’s face contorted in agony.
“Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come; ’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” Surprising herself more than the others in the room, the lyrics poured from Maggie’s lips as she took up Abigail’s place.
Levi bowed his head and Abigail smiled gratefully.
Maggie didn’t miss a word as she lowly sang the melody. Without being asked, she and Abigail switched off all during the night. Each one picked up where the other had left off when they could no longer continue.
When the grey-dawn light began to filter through the room, Isham closed his eyes at last and drifted off into a deep sleep. Abigail touched his wrist, checking his pulse. “He may not wake again.”
Maggie stopped singing and the room was silent for the first time in hours.
Levi stood and came around the bed to place his hands on Abigail’s shoulders. “Father, we thank Thee for the gift of song. We ask that Thee take Isham under Thy wing and out of his earthly pain. Give us strength and wisdom on what is to come. Amen.”
Without a job to distract her, the heaviness of the room made Maggie feel sick again.
I have to get out of here.
She fled into the kitchen and braced herself against the table, breathing heavily and ears ringing. A cold, familiar sweat was forming on her brow. The walls seemed to be closing in.
Air. I need air. I might actually faint.
Shaking every step of the way, she made it outside before she even realized what she was doing.
The chilly morning air brought life back to her.
Steadying her breathing, the ringing in her ears began to subside.
When she was sure she would no longer see black spots in her vision, she opened her eyes.
Sullivan stood at the well, staring right at her. Intently.
Maggie mentally swore. Think, think, think, she commanded herself as he strode towards her.
“What’s wrong with you?” He scanned her clammy face and disheveled appearance.
“Um… I wasn’t feeling well when I woke and needed some fresh air.” She rose to her feet. “I’m fine now.”
His eyes flickered towards the house. “Should I fetch Mrs. Howard?”
Oh God. Abigail and Levi are probably racing to hide Isham now. Will my rashness never cease putting them in danger?
With providential timing, Abigail came outside. “Maggie, is thee unwell?” Abigail hurried over and put her hand against Maggie’s forehead. “I did advise thee not to eat the wild mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms? When did you eat mushrooms?” Sullivan didn’t sound convinced.
“You did, Abigail, but I didn’t listen. I just wanted something more to eat than liver.” Pretending to be bashful, she pointed over to the edge of the woods. “I spotted some wild mushrooms on the way to the privy yesterday.”
Sullivan looked towards the spot she indicated and quickly glanced back at her. His eyes roamed over her face. “Don’t stray from the house.” Now addressing Abigail, “Inform your husband it is time for him to come out and check the sheep.”
Both surprised by Sullivan’s unusually curt response, they turned to go inside. Maggie was right behind Abigail when Sullivan stopped her. “Miss Ackerman, one moment.”
Her insides turned into a knot. “Yes?” She called over her shoulder.
Abigail hesitated, waiting, but Sullivan remained stoic.
“Fetch Mr. Howard, please, Mrs. Howard,” Sullivan directed, clearly dismissing Abigail. Abigail’s eyes darted over to Maggie, but she had no grounds to object. With one last anxious glance over her shoulder, she went to get Levi.
Now that they were alone, Sullivan spoke flatly. “You know, not sleeping can also cause one to not feel well. I got up in the middle of the night to check on things and heard the strangest thing. It distinctly sounded like you singing.”
She didn’t dare turn to face him. “That is strange. But then again, I’m sure people have done worse things when they cannot fall asleep.”
Before he could utter another word, she dashed inside after Abigail.
He knew.