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THE THORESENS’ NEIGHBORS received word of the sickness through Fraulein Engel’s brother, who spread the news to the German church. Many in their church had been the recipient of Elli’s care and compassion in the past year. Yet, as much as their friends wished to help them, they kept a strict distance from the Thoresen house and barn. The way in which the sickness—whatever it was—had decimated the Becker family was much too fresh in their minds.
Henrik and Abigael coordinated an influx of meals, leaving them near the pump each day where Jan or Søren would retrieve and distribute them. Amalie, too, cooked for them, but Jan would not allow her to bring food to them or to the house. Instead, either he or Søren would fetch what she prepared.
—
ELLI SCARCELY LEFT the girls’ sickroom except to go to the kitchen when she needed something. Perhaps once a day she spoke to Jan from behind the screened and latched kitchen door.
Three days after Karl took to his bed, Jan saw Elli’s pronounced exhaustion . . . and her fear. “Jan, Sigrün may be slowly getting better, but . . . our datter is still the same.”
“And Jan,” Elli said carefully. “Jan, my love, I am not well.”
Ice swept down Jan’s back, numbing his fingers and his feet as he realized Elli’s eyes were glazed with fever. He stared through the door, Fraulein Engel’s prescribed barrier between them.
“How? I don’t understand! You had no flea bites!” Jan protested.
Elli moved her head once, but the effort pained her. “I do not know.”
He could see how Elli longed for him to hold her, and Jan wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms about her and shut out the world. Jan slowly raised his hand and placed it on the screen. Elli lifted hers and placed it against his.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I will do anything to protect you and our family.”
Elli swayed on her feet, and Fraulein Engel appeared behind her, steadying her. “You must go to bed now, Liebling.” Fraulein Engel shot Jan a look of compassion, and he stared, dumbfounded, as she ushered Elli away from the door.
But Jan could not bear it. He shook the door and, when the latch would not give, he wrenched it from the frame and threw it aside. He had made up his mind.
Elli and Fraulein Engel were not quite to the top of the stairs. He stood at the bottom and called after them, “I will help nurse Karl and the girls,” he shouted. “I will help nurse Elli.”
The two women turned. “Nei! Oh, nei, Jan!” Elli cried. “What if we both sicken? Our children would be left orphans! Think of our children, Jan, my love!”
Elli’s panic was as real as Fraulein Engel’s anger. The German woman sat Elli on the top step and strode down the stairs, her expression ferocious. She shoved Jan into the kitchen and toward the door, all the while shouting at him in German. Jan did not understand her words, and he would never lift a hand to her, so he folded his arms and resolutely planted his feet.
She could not move him.
“Pappa!”
Jan turned. Søren was standing in the doorway, his face a mask of fear. “Is Mamma sick? Is she? Fraulein Engel is saying you and Mamma could both die. Pappa!”
Fraulein Engel continued to shout and push him toward the door. Jan looked at Søren’s face once more then held up his hands.
“Søren, tell Fraulein Engel I wish to say something to her,” Jan said quietly. Søren did as he asked, and Fraulein Engel ceased berating him.
Jan faced the woman and studied her tired, worn face—this fine, godly woman, who had given so much of herself for so many. “Søren,” Jan said again. “Please tell Fraulein Engel that I have made up my mind. She must accept my decision. I will help her with the sick ones.”
He turned to Søren as he spoke those words. “And I am sorry, my sønn, but your mamma and your søster need me. You, too, must accept this—whatever happens.”
He gestured. “Stay out of the house. Go tell Henrik what is happening; he will help you with the chores. And tell your tante Amalie.”
When Søren left, a resigned Fraulein Engel had Jan place a kerchief over his nose and mouth and wash with soap and water. Together they put Elli to bed. Then Fraulein Engel took Jan to see Karl, Kristen, and Sigrün.
That was when he knew how dire the situation was.
Oh, God! his heart cried. Be my strength, Lord! We need you most desperately.
—
KARL DIED TWO EVENINGS later. Jan had prayed over him in the morning and then had seen Karl watching him with pain-racked eyes, eyes that pleaded with him.
Jan gripped Karl’s hand. “I will take care of your family, Bror. I promise you.” Jan choked on the words, choked back his tears. “I promise you I will.”
Karl could not speak, but his eyes were fixed on Jan, and his expression grew peaceful. After his eyelids slid shut in sleep, he did not wake again. Jan stayed until the sun set when Karl breathed his last.
Jan shuddered as he thought of telling Amalie and her children, and his breast ached with every breath. He had no further time to mourn though, for he heard shrieking from the girls’ bedroom.
He ran and found Fraulein Engel struggling with Sigrün. She was trying to carry Sigrün from the room, but his ten-year-old niece, even weakened by the sickness, fought Fraulein Engel, screaming and kicking. Concerned that the girl would do herself harm, Fraulein Engel returned her to her bed.
“What is it?” Jan cried. “What are you doing?”
The woman held up a finger to shoosh Jan, and busied herself tucking Sigrün back under the covers, speaking soothing words to her. Soon Sigrün calmed and her head fell onto her pillow. Then Fraulein Engel gestured Jan to the door, and they stepped into the hallway together. She took a breath and, finally, looked Jan in the face.
“Kristen is,” she said softly in German. “Kristen is dying.” She searched for a word Jan would understand. “Kristen døende,” she said using a Riksmål word. “Verstehst du?” Do you understand?
Jan reeled and fell against the wall; he understood the skirmish between Fraulein Engel and Sigrün.
Fraulein Engel was trying to remove Sigrün from the room so that she would not witness Kristen’s passing. Our little datter dying? No! How can this be?
Jan knelt by Kristen’s bedside. The sickness had ravished her young body. Now at the end, the form under the blankets was small, her face thin, the skin waxy and transparent. Jan found her little hand and covered it in both of his. Then Sigrün was beside him, huddled against his side, keeping vigil with him.
Kristen did not wake but slipped away quietly while Jan prayed for her and prayed for his family. When he knew she was gone, he wept—long, racking sobs to which he could scarcely give voice, for he could not breathe.
Sigrün flung her hands about Jan’s neck and pressed against him until he opened his arms to her. She buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him as he grieved. Jan felt her hot tears trickle down his neck, but she uttered not a sound.
—
NIGHT HAD FULLY FALLEN when Jan awoke with a start, lifting his head from Kristen’s bed. He still held Sigrün against his chest and he could tell by her even breathing that she, too, was sleeping.
Fraulein Engel had covered Kristen’s face while Jan and Sigrün slept in exhausted anguish. Jan hugged Sigrün to him as he stood up, but she awoke.
She would not allow Jan to put her to bed; she clung even tighter. Jan, giving in, wrapped her in a blanket, held her near, and went downstairs to the kitchen where he found Fraulein Engel.
She gave Sigrün a cursory examination. “Gut!” She turned to go upstairs, then stopped. She pointed to the kitchen door and Jan understood. He opened the door and found Søren seated on the steps, weeping alone in the dark.
“Fraulein Engel has told you?” Jan asked.
“Ja, Pappa,” he sniffed. “Is that Sigrün? Is she better?”
“She is getting better, I think. See?” Jan stepped back from the open doorway as Søren drew near. “I am sorry I broke the screen door, Sønn, but I still want you to stay back and safe, ja?”
Søren gave a little wave to Sigrün who held tight to Jan’s neck. She lifted a hand in return.
“What of Mamma?” he asked anxiously.
“I will check on her soon.” Jan’s throat tightened, the sadness overtaking him again. Sigrün reached up and pressed a hand to his cheek. “Takk, little one,” he whispered.
He looked at Søren. “I am sorry you are alone this night, Sønn. It is a heavy burden to bear.” Søren bowed his head, and Jan longed to comfort him, but he could not.
“Will you go to Henrik tomorrow and tell him we need him? Amalie will need Abigael, too.”
—
WHEN FRAULEIN ENGEL came downstairs an hour later, Jan noted her weariness. Nevertheless, she took Sigrün when Jan placed her on her lap.
“I must go see your Tante Elli, Sigrün,” Jan whispered. “I promise to come back.”
Sigrün released her hold and clung to Fraulein Engel.
Jan went first to Kristen’s room, almost to assure himself that the nightmare was true and not something the dark of night had conjured. Jan stood stock still and his heart pounded, for Kristen’s bed had been stripped bare and her body was gone.
Jan ran to Karl and Amalie’s room. There he found Karl and Kristen’s bodies, side by side, washed, and reverently wrapped in clean sheets.
Ah, Lord God, Fraulein Engel has done more for us than we can ever repay. Jan knelt by the bed and prayed for his brother’s wife and children. He prayed for his own family. He prayed that God would give him strength for the dark days ahead. And he prayed for Elli.
—
MORNING DAWNED. STRENGTHENED in his spirit, he stood and went to see his wife. Jan and Fraulein Engel had put Elli to bed in Søren’s room. Jan placed the kerchief over his mouth and nose and cracked the door to see if Elli was awake.
She moaned and called for him. “Jan! Jan!” Her voice was rough from coughing.
“I am here, Elli. Let me give you water to drink.” He sat beside her, lifted her head, and helped her to sip.
“It hurts too much,” she whimpered.
“Then I will fetch warm tea with honey.” Jan moved to go but Elli stopped him.
“Nei! Jan! Please . . . I heard so many things in the night. I . . . Jan, I heard Sigrün screaming and . . . Please tell me what has happened?”
Jan had not intended to tell Elli about Karl . . . about Kristen . . . while she was so ill. He bowed his head now and prayed again, Lord, I need you right now. Elli needs you. I do not know how to tell her! We are hopeless without you!
But Elli gave him the words. “Jan . . . is our datter gone to heaven?”
Jan covered his eyes with his hand and choked on a sob. “Ja, my love. She is gone to heaven.”
“Oh, Jesus!” Elli cried. “Oh, Jesus! Help me!”
Jan would not let her grieve alone. He removed the kerchief and gathered her into his arms.
~~**~~
