Tommy returned home via the saloon. The night temperatures dropped, freezing his cheeks and ears. Winter was finally fully upon them, the drenching rains that had come off and on had finally turned. Snow fell, a dusting hitting the dirt roads, melting as soon as they hit, followed by snow dumping like rain. He was desperate to numb his fears and quiet his thoughts so he could sort out a plan. He stopped at Churchill’s. His pity story about his sister being taken and his distraught mama who needed whiskey to cope earned him a larger tab since Colt wasn’t there. He hated seeing the barkeep add more slashes next to his name to signify two jars of whiskey, but he couldn’t imagine not having something to help him or his mother if she’d already worked her way through the half jar he’d taken her the night before. Despite his craving for alcohol to numb his guilt and fear over Yale, he kept from drinking it. Somehow, he managed.
Pearl was already in the loft with Fern beside her. He laid down to sleep and heard Pearl sniffling.
“I’m so sorry, Tommy, so sorry.”
He moved Fern out of the way and pulled Pearl close, spooning her, holding her tight. “It’s my fault, not yours, Pearl. You’re a good soul who never harms a flea. So you just don’t feel one more smidge of guilt over this. Because the only thing that turns a person rotten faster than not forgiving others is not forgiving yourself. I know.”
She cried in his arms, eventually falling asleep. Yes, he knew too well what it did when guilt and resentment seeded in your gut and he couldn’t think of anything he wanted less for Pearl than for that to happen.
**
The next morning he woke to find Pearl already gone to work. He took one whiskey jar to Mama’s. She wasn’t in the kitchen, but there was chicken soup simmering on the stove. He set the whiskey near the lavender and honey on the shelf above the countertop. Katherine would see it there if she wanted to add it to Mama’s tea later. He heard a cry from upstairs above the kitchen.
He flew up to the bedroom and found Mama kneeling beside the bed. For a moment, his heart leapt for joy thinking she’d gotten Yale back and was tucking her into bed for a warm nap. But when he approached the bed, Katherine came into view, her face bloodless, her breathing shallow.
He thought of her cough, how exhausted she’d looked for weeks. Now he fully recognized her unsteadiness and sickly appearance as symptoms of illness, not just exhaustion or worry with the taking of Yale.
He touched Mama’s shoulders. She looked up, her eyes wet.
“What happened?”
“She collapsed next door at Miss Violet’s.”
“I should have made her go to bed when I saw how tired she was. She looked awful yesterday,” Tommy said.
“She has for some time. I should have made her take a break from all that work and studying.”
Tommy thought of Katherine’s frenzied painting, all the canvases scattered around Miss Violet’s kitchen. He should have demanded she rest way back on that night when she’d looked so tired.
Mama looked just as ashen as Katherine. He knelt beside the bed, and Mama collapsed into his arms. “I can’t, Tommy. Yale and now Katherine.”
“I’ll get a doctor,” Tommy said.
“Already had one come. Another’s coming soon.”
“More blankets.”
“Miss Violet’s bringing extras over.”
He nodded, helpless. “What’s wrong with her?”
“First doctor said maybe pneumonia then left without doing anything much. Mr. Hayes was here when Katherine collapsed. He went for another doctor.”
Mama held Katherine’s hands as she bowed her head and said prayers that Tommy hadn’t heard leave her lips in half a decade. Tommy pressed her back. “You’re sure another doctor’s coming?”
She nodded but didn’t look up.
He held Mama close. “I’ll be back, Mama. There has to be something I can do.”