It wasn’t until he’d gently laid her on the porch that we’d realized she was still breathing.
Just barely.
“The bandages, please,” Dr. Ambrose repeated, shaking his hand at me.
“Of course. I’m sorry,” I said, my voice as raspy as an old iron gate. Between the smoke and tears, my throat felt impossibly swollen.
“Here’s the honey!” Papa burst into the bedroom with a jar held aloft.
Dr. Ambrose said that keeping the burns loosely covered and clean was the best way to prevent infection. Honey would keep the wounds moist and also help to lessen the sting of the minor burns.
Looking over the ruined landscape of my mother’s body, I didn’t think there was a thing on earth that could help that.
“Sarah?” Papa leaned over her, scanning her face for any sign she’d heard him.
“Let her rest, let her rest.” Dr. Ambrose nudged him out of the way so he could begin applying the honey.
Papa, usually so strong, blanched white as part of her arm flapped open, revealing a pocket of yellow fat the fire had not burned away. He held his arm over his mouth to stop from retching and began to pace the room like a penned stallion.
“If you can’t handle the sight of this, I’d rather you leave now,” Dr. Ambrose said. “I must be allowed to concentrate.”
“Why hasn’t she woken yet?” Papa asked.
“She’s been through a traumatic experience. Her body will need time to start the healing process.”
Papa turned, pouncing on his words. “Then you think…you think she will heal from this?”
Dr. Ambrose hesitated. “If she is to heal,” he amended. He glanced at me with an uneasy expression.
“She’s pregnant,” Papa blurted out. “We haven’t said anything yet, but—do you think that…Will the baby be all right?”
The doctor’s face grew grave. “Pregnant!”
With a gentle touch, he ran his hand over the soft swell of her stomach. She’d not yet begun to show.
“It’s…it’s hard to say for certain….Do you know how far along she is?”
“Two months, maybe more,” I said.
He pressed tenderly about the flushed skin. “It’s certainly possible…and the absence of bleeding could be a good sign. But I’m afraid this is far beyond my capabilities, Gideon. I’ve never treated burns so severe.”
“What can be done?” Papa asked, his eyes startlingly clear and lucid. “I can’t lose her. I can’t…” A sob welled in his throat, choking any words. Tears fell down his soot-covered cheeks, and when he pushed them aside, he smeared the dark ash. “I’ll do anything I can, Doc. Just tell me what needs to be done.”
The doctor turned back to his work, spreading a mixture of egg whites and honey over Mama’s wounds. Next came the bandages, laid loosely across the burns. Once everything was covered, he pulled a sheet to her chin. A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders once the damage was hidden.
“Doc?”
He turned to Papa. “I hate admitting this to you, Gideon, truly I do, but I don’t know what else we can do. Her bandages will need to be changed and cleaned daily, and she’ll need something to help control the pain if she wakes—”
“When she wakes,” Papa interrupted with fervent hope.
“When,” Dr. Ambrose agreed reluctantly. “My supplies are low. I don’t have what’s needed to properly treat her here.”
“I’ll go out of the pass, then,” Papa said. “Write down a list of what you need—what we’ll all need this winter—and I will go and get it.”
“Papa, no!” I jumped in. “Those creatures—”
“I will not watch your mother die!” he said, cutting me off.
The doctor gritted his teeth, worrying over his next words. “I doubt it would make much difference, Gideon. She needs better treatment than I can give. Even with her daughters tending to her…she needs proper medical attention, especially if…she is still with child.”
Papa’s face darkened. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying her best chance of survival is to leave Amity Falls. Take her out of God’s Grasp, to somewhere with a hospital…more medicine…a midwife who isn’t always half in her cups.”
“Will she even be able to make such a journey?” Papa’s voice was softer than a whisper. One wrong word could shatter him completely.
Dr. Ambrose rubbed his beard, wincing. “I don’t believe she’ll make it without the journey.”
Papa sank to the floor, head buried in his hands.
I swayed back and forth, wanting to comfort my father but unable to leave Mama’s side. “But she’s fine now….I mean, she’s out of the fire and you cleaned out the wounds….And all the honey…The honey will heal her. I know it will! Everyone says it’s like magic. It can…it can…”
My chin trembled as I fought back tears. He was wrong. I would stay with Mama, day and night, nursing her back to health. There would be scars, of course, but she would recover. She would be fine. It would all be—
“I…I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” a voice interrupted from the doorway. Whitaker stood at the threshold, his fingers on the frame. “But I couldn’t stand by and not offer my help. May I come in?”
I think I nodded. He carefully shut the door behind himself and crossed the room to where Papa huddled.
“If you decide to take her out of the Falls, sir, I’ll accompany you. I’ve been up and down the mountainsides and I’ve found a path, a shortcut….It could handle a wagon and a team of horses, I’m certain of it. You can stay in the back with her, and I’ll man the front.”
“A shortcut?” Papa repeated, daring to look up and meet his gaze. “Where?”
“Do you have an area map? I can show you.”
Papa nodded mutely.
“What about the monsters?” I asked. “The wolves or bears or whatever they are. Six men were killed. Something is out in those trees.”
Whitaker raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it from his smoke-smudged face. “We’ll take firearms and lanterns—so many lanterns. We’ll be too loud and too bright—no creatures would want to come near all that.” He reached out to cup his hand over mine, and rubbed reassuring circles with his thumb. “And, sir,” he said, looking back to Papa, “I’m an excellent shot. If anything threatens us…anything…I promise I’ll be able to handle it.”