I glanced about the room, noting the Lathetons’ and Fowlers’ absences. Simon and Rebecca weren’t present either. “Perhaps they didn’t have anything to trade.”
“Perhaps they’re at the church now, plotting ways to seize control.” Her eyes shone with a glassy heat, and I noticed her hands were trembling.
“Cora, when was the last time you had something to eat?”
I’d begun skipping a meal here and there, trying to make our supplies stretch a little further. My head always swam on those days, feeling too light and easily befuddled. I wondered how much of her accusation was fueled by hunger pangs.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she insisted. As her gaze fell to the cherry preserves, I heard her stomach rumble.
Though I hoped Cora’s comments were all fevered conjecture, I couldn’t help but wonder why Briard’s biggest supporters were missing today.
“Come on, Ellerie,” Merry said, tugging on my cloak as the Elder’s wife waved off my concern.
“Good Blessings, Cora Schäfer,” I said.
“What was that about?” Merry hissed once we were out of earshot. “She sounds crazed.”
“I think she only—”
“Ooh, lima beans!” Bonnie Maddin called out as we went by. She sat on a bench, drowning in a cloak now two sizes too big for her. Her hair, usually full of curls and luster, was pulled back in a limp braid, roots greasy. She raised her lips in a hopeful smile, revealing two missing teeth. “Mama would adore those!”
Merry narrowed her eyes, searching for Bonnie’s contribution. “What have you got?”
Her terseness surprised me. She’d not seen her friend since the last market day, nearly a month before. Too many storms had prevented the rebuilding of the schoolhouse, so classes had been suspended, forcing the children of Amity Falls to remain at home.
Wordlessly Bonnie pulled out two lengths of ribbon. They were lovely shades of blue and purple, and I longed to run my fingers over their grosgrain edges.
“What would I do with those?” Merry asked, her tone as sharp as nails.
“They’d be pretty on a bonnet,” Bonnie suggested, foisting them closer to us.
“I can’t eat a bonnet,” my sister snapped. Then she turned and set off to find someone else to trade with.
Bonnie’s face scrunched with tears. “Mama told me if I didn’t bring food home, she wouldn’t let me in at all.”
“They’re beautiful ribbons, Bonnie,” I said half-heartedly. “I know someone will want them.”
Her watery eyes fell heavily on me. “Ellerie, please.”
“I…I’m so sorry,” I said, hurrying away.
“Martha McCleary has peas,” Merry murmured as I joined her.
The Elder’s wife had just entered the Gathering House, shaking snowflakes from her heavy shawl. Amos staggered in after her, pressing a handkerchief over rattling coughs. His dark skin was unusually ashen, and his milky eyes watered. Flecks of red stained the cloth, and I shook my head.
“Better not, just to be safe.”
“Why isn’t he at home?” Merry wondered. “He looks like he ought to be in his deathbed.”
Unkind, but true.
Matthias joined them, offering an arm to Martha and looking Amos over with a sharp eye. As they spoke in tones too low to hear, Leland drifted closer. In public, the Elders were always drawn to one another, much like geese pulled south in the autumn and back north as spring dawned.
“Potatoes?” Roger Schultz stepped in front of us, his burlap sack raised high.
Merry peeked inside and immediately wrinkled her nose.
“They don’t look the most appetizing,” he admitted. “But you can cut away that black rot. There’s still plenty of edible bits.”
There was a whine of desperation to his voice.
The Schultz farm had been decimated by the strange black rot spreading throughout the Falls. Nearly all of their harvest had been tainted. Knowing he had five small children at home—and another on the way—made me ache to simply hand over our jar of beans, but I swallowed back such charitable thoughts.
Compassion would not keep our bellies full.
Another volley of coughs rose from Amos, harsh, raspy barks that sounded as though his lungs would burst free and splatter upon the wall, oozing and utterly spent.
Martha struck at his back, as if dislodging a stubborn bit of phlegm.
“Let it alone, woman, let it alone,” he hollered. He waved his cane at her with warning.
“Amos, old friend, you need to rest,” Matthias said. “Why don’t you let me take you home? Leland can escort Martha safely back once she’s finished here.”
The old man swatted the offer away, his bushy white eyebrows drawn into a solid line of anger.
Martha shook her head and stalked off.
“I just don’t know what to do,” she confided too loudly to Cora. “Every day I go to sleep thinking this will be his last night on earth, but every morning the sun rises and he’s still here, even worse than before.”
“I’m sure he’ll recover soon,” Cora said. “Men like Amos are stubborn. One little cold won’t take him down.”
“And the doctor is no help at all,” Martha continued as if she hadn’t heard Cora. “Says there’s no medicine.” She snarled. “He’s a doctor. Of course he has medicine. He just wants to keep it all to himself.”
Across the room, Dr. Ambrose’s jaw tightened.
“You know that’s not true, Martha,” Cora said, trying to placate her.
“All I know is that I would do anything to make Amos well again. Anything,” she repeated.
“Come now,” Matthias said, calling out to the doctor. “There must be some medicine you can offer him. You always have something squirreled away in that black bag of yours.”
Dr. Ambrose shook his head. “I told you back in the summer that I was running low on stock. What makes you think any of that has changed?”
“He’s an Elder,” Leland tried. “Surely that ought to mean something.”
“I don’t care if he’s Christ himself. I have nothing!”
“Not here, perhaps,” Matthias allowed, noticing how the room’s attention had fallen upon them. “But at your cabin, surely. No one would blame you for having a little stash tucked away for a rainy day.”