Chapter 9

Timothy clutched his bag as he strolled toward the schoolhouse. He’d been dreaming about Eve almost every night for the last two weeks. In spite of his bad dreams, he still craved spending time with Deborah. They were three quarters of the way through the book for her exam. If their pace continued and if Deborah continued learning as well as she had, he thought she’d be ready to take the test.

He’d been shocked the previous day when Deborah’s family had a guest for Sunday dinner. No, not Deborah’s family—Deborah had a dinner guest. Lucy, a new worker at the mercantile, was now Deborah’s friend. It had been strange but refreshing to see Deborah talking companionably with another female. She seemed happier, not so worried about the exam. She’d been studying so hard, it was possible her confidence was built up and she was no longer fearful about not passing the exam. For some reason, Deborah and Lucy seemed to get along superbly. Lily also seemed to take to Lucy. She showed Lucy her doll and told her about her friend Abigail.

Deborah had been full of surprises. When Lucy had gone home after Sunday dinner, Deborah said she wanted to walk him and Lily home. On the way to his house, she’d asked him to come and speak to her students about his medical career the next day. She said she wanted her students, especially her female students, to study and perhaps go to college if they could. She was trying to let them know that it was all right to be intelligent. She’d even hinted that she might want to start a lending library in town. She said they might be able to keep spare books in the back room of the schoolhouse. Seeing her enthusiasm warmed his heart. When they reached his home, he’d again been tempted to kiss her, but of course he didn’t act on his feelings. Lord, what am I going to do?

He approached the schoolhouse. It was unseasonably warm for a late October day, and he spotted the partially open door of the schoolhouse. He stopped for a few seconds, thinking. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he made his way up the stairs. Deborah’s voice, sweet and clear, drifted from the room.

“So, class, what is this plant called?”

“Goldenrod,” one of her pupils answered.

“How about this one?”

“Queen Anne’s lace,” another pupil responded.

She continued quizzing the children about the plants. Her science plant project had been a huge success, and he was glad the children seemed enthusiastic about it. Should he go in and interrupt them? He gently pushed the door, and the squeaky hinges announced his arrival. Deborah looked up from the chalkboard, directly into his eyes. “Class, Dr. Timothy Washington is here. Say hello. He’ll be talking to us about what it was like for him to become a doctor.”

“Hello, Doctor Timothy,” the children chorused. Lily gave him a small, gap-toothed grin and waved. He waved back at her and gave her a quick wink.

He smiled at the rest of the class. “Good afternoon.” He strolled toward the front of the classroom. He resisted the urge to kiss Deborah’s smooth brown cheek as he set his medical bag on her desk. “Miss King asked me to talk to you about my job as a medical doctor. I thought I could show you some of the things in my medical bag.” He grinned at the class as he opened his bag. “You can ask me questions if you wish.”

He removed several vials of powders. “I use these powders to help patients with pain. Some can heal illnesses.”

One of the older children raised his hand. “Which one of them powders do you use the most?”

Deborah cleared her throat as she focused on the child who’d asked the question. “Remember to use proper English. Which one of those powders do you use the most.”

The boy nodded. “Sorry. Which one of those powders do you use the most?”

“White willow bark. It’s an excellent remedy for headaches.”

“Is that what you gave Miss Clara for her headache? I heard her tell you she had a headache one time at church.” One of the youngest female pupils, sitting in the front row, asked the question.

His eyes widened at the bold question. Deborah narrowed her eyes at the girl. “Now, Sarah, you know you should raise your hand before asking a question. And it’s not polite to ask people personal questions.”

Sarah raised her hand. “What’s a personal question?”

He eyed Deborah. She folded her slender arms across her chest and tapped her booted foot. She looked annoyed, and he suddenly had even more respect for schoolteachers. He figured it wasn’t an easy job to teach a roomful of children every day. She kept her eyes on the student who’d asked the question. “A personal question is a question that most folks might not want to answer.”

“But—”

“Does anybody else have a question?” She didn’t seem to want to give nosy Sarah any opportunity to ask another question.

One of the older students in the back row raised his hand. “How did you become a doctor?”

Good question. He looked at the student. “What’s your name, young man?”

“John, sir.”

Timothy smiled at him. “I’m glad you asked that, John. My parents …” He paused, unsure how to address the fact that he was a Negro who’d had wealthy parents. Well, he’d be truthful without boasting. “My parents owned a business. After they passed away, they left me with enough money to go to school to study medicine. I’m sure some of you remember Doctor Smith?” Several of the children nodded. “After my schooling, I studied under Doctor Smith as an apprentice.” He paused for a few seconds and removed a few more items out of his bag. “After studying with Doctor Smith, I got married and moved away and started a practice. I returned here with my daughter, Lily”—he gestured toward his daughter—“after my wife passed away.”

The children were respectfully silent. He took the rest of the items from his bag. “This is my stethoscope.” He focused on the younger children. “Does anyone want to listen to a heartbeat?” All of the children’s hands shot into the air like bullets. He laughed and glanced at Deborah, who also smiled. He ached to touch the cute dimple on her left cheek. “Is it all right if I show them? I don’t want to impose on your teaching time.” He asked her the question in a low voice.

“It’s fine, Timothy.” When she said his name, it sounded sweet, like golden honey. He quickly focused on the stethoscope again. He didn’t want the children to see him ogling their pretty teacher. He spent the next hour patiently letting each student listen to each other’s heartbeat. Afterward, he showed them his magnifying glass. He then showed the class another item. “This is a lancet.”

“Do you cut people open with that?” One of the younger children boldly asked the question without raising his hand.

“I use it to draw blood.”

“Why?” another child asked.

“Sometimes I have to draw blood to make a person feel better.” He then showed the rest of the items in his medical bag to the students. His stomach growled. It must be dinnertime. He didn’t realize that he’d spoken for so long.

“Class, it’s dinnertime. I want all of you to thank Doctor Washington for speaking to us.”

“Thank you, Doctor Washington.” The entire class echoed their appreciation.

“You’re dismissed for dinner,” Deborah announced. The class scurried toward the door for nooning, grabbing their dinner pails.

Timothy placed the items he’d been showing the class back into his medical bag. “Timothy?” Deborah approached him with her dinner pail.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to sit on the front steps with me? I had a few questions about some of the material in my botany book.”

“Of course.” He escorted her to the front steps. He thought it would be best to sit in plain view of the students while they talked since the schoolmarm wasn’t allowed to have a beau.

They sat on the bottom step. She looked a bit nervous … nervous and rather fetching in her yellow bonnet and brown dress. The subtle scent of peppermint wafted toward him.

A breeze blew, tossing multicolored leaves through the air. The echo of children’s voices and laughter floated toward them as Deborah opened her botany book. “The floral formula. It makes sense to me, I think.” He smiled at her. She probably understood the formula perfectly; she just needed someone to study it with her.

Abigail and Lily ran toward them, swinging their dinner pails. Abigail stopped and grinned while she traced the sketched flower in the book. “What are you doing?”

Lily quietly stood beside Abigail. She seemed quite happy that he’d visited her class that day. “I’m helping Miss King study the floral formula.”

Lily leaned toward the book and touched the drawing of the flower. “What’s a formula?”

Deborah squeezed Lily’s shoulder. “That’s a good question, Lily. A formula represents something.” She pointed to the letters and symbols in the book. “These letters and symbols tell us about the different parts of a flower. For example, the formula for a rose would be different than the formula for a tulip. Both of those flowers have different scents, different petals …”

Abigail continued staring at the page. “I don’t understand.”

Lily smiled. “I think I do.”

Abigail looked at Lily. “You do?”

“I don’t know….” Lily looked toward an oak tree in the distance. His daughter was still so quiet. It was refreshing to hear her speak her opinion about something.

He smiled at her. “Go ahead and finish what you were going to say.”

“I don’t understand what’s in the book, but … I think I understand that this”—she pointed to the formula—“will be different for another flower.”

Abigail stood up straight. “Well, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat, Lily.” The twosome rushed toward the large oak tree in the schoolyard.

Timothy grinned and looked at Deborah, who was smiling as well. “You’re setting a good example for Lily. Maybe when she grows up, she’ll want to go to college too. I’m glad you’re her teacher.”

Deborah grinned as she pushed her spectacles up on her nose. “Thank you, Timothy.” She pointed to the book. “Can we study this for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

While they went over the formula, they were interrupted a few times by the younger students. Once they were finished, she shut the book and placed it on the step between them.

“Doctor!” A young man stormed toward them. Timothy recognized him as one of the Thompson brothers who lived on a farm near the school with their widowed father. “My pa needs your help really bad. He’s sick something awful. He’s got spots all over him. He’s real sick, Doctor.”

Timothy’s heart pounded with fear. The man’s condition sounded serious. “Deborah, I have to go.” He quickly grabbed his medical bag. Minutes later, the two men sprinted onto the Thompson property. The young man ran into the house with Timothy behind him. “My pa’s back here.”

Timothy eyed the older man lying on the bed moaning. His speckled skin and red eyes made Timothy’s heart lurch with dread. He opened his medical bag. “Where does it hurt?” He made sure his voice was gentle as he asked the question.

The man coughed. “My throat … hurts bad.” Timothy touched the man’s forehead. He burned with fever.

“Open your mouth.” The white lesions in the man’s mouth made Timothy wince inwardly. The man closed his eyes and moaned. He was obviously not in any shape for conversation. He turned toward the man’s son. “How long has he been sick? Has he traveled anywhere recently?”

“He took a long trip. Was gone to Philadelphia for a couple of weeks. He got back a week ago. Been sick for five days.”

“Why didn’t you come get me when he started feeling ill?” He couldn’t help the urgent tone of his voice—people’s lives were in danger.

“My pa don’t like seeing the doctor. He said it would go away. But it didn’t. It got worse. When I saw them red spots, that’s when I went to get you. Someone told me you was at the school, so that’s why I rushed there to get you.”

“Has he been in contact with anybody besides you and your brothers since he’s been back?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, think.” Timothy’s loud voice echoed in the room. The young man’s eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Timothy needed to be sure the young man understood the severity of the situation. “I need to know who your father has seen since he’s been back. Who has he visited? I need to know if you and your brothers have visited or seen anybody since your pa’s been back in town.”

“Why?”

“Because your pa has the measles. I don’t want you or any of your brothers to leave this farm for any reason—unless you need to get me if your pa gets worse.”

The young man hesitated, paced the room. “Come to think of it, he went to the store a few times. My pa’s got a lot of friends. He’s visited a lot of farms since he’s been back.”

Well, it appeared he didn’t have a choice. He focused on the young man. “This entire town is going to be put under a twenty-one-day quarantine.”