LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Two

      While he packed jar after jar into the crate, Jake tried not to regret agreeing to Coralee’s help. His first reaction had been to stay as far away from her offer as possible. He was weary to the bone and didn’t want to distract himself in such a critical time. And, despite his best efforts, Coralee was a distraction. But if he was honest, her actions with Mrs. Bernard had reminded him of why she was so good at what she did. She had a way with people that made them feel cared for and respected. And he needed the help badly.

      Jake fitted a lid onto the full crate and turned to the ladies. “All packed. Are you ready, Coralee?”

      “Yes, let’s go.” She was all business and that was fine with him. He couldn’t open himself up to emotional complications with this woman. He carried her case and the crate of camphor outside to the wagon and turned to help her climb onto the hard seat. He joined her and urged the horse into motion and they headed out of town in silence.

      Through his exhaustion, Jake took in the familiar landscape he had missed during the years he’d been away. St. Louis was tight with buildings and people, unlike these rolling hills covered in swaying, knee-high grass. The late-afternoon sky above was endlessly clear, a blue so bright it almost hurt his eyes. As difficult as coming back had been, this was where he wanted to spend the rest of his days.

      Coralee’s quiet words brought him back to the present. “How bad is this outbreak?”

      He glanced over. She was staring straight ahead, more than a hint of worry written on her face. A sudden desire to fix the problem and erase that worried look took him by surprise. “I’m not sure yet. It seems confined to an area south of town. The fellow that helps out at the Wallace place came to get me first. They told me their neighbor, old Mr. Howard, was sick, as well.” Jake swallowed, trying to clear away the sudden dryness that was making it hard to speak. “He passed away before I got there.”

      Coralee murmured, the gentle sound of sympathy making his eyes burn. He blinked hard. “I made some rounds to the neighbors after that, just to see if anyone else is ill. Mrs. Felder and the Smiths are sick. And Mr. Trask rode by the Wallace place when I was out there last night and told me the Rileys are ill, as well. I’m going out there after we see the situation at the Smiths.”

      Coralee’s hand shot to her mouth, eyes growing wide. “Oh, no, not the Rileys. We see them at church every Sunday without fail. Their twins...”

      Jake shook his head. “When Aaron started feeling sick a few days ago, Liza got Phillip and Louisa to the Trasks. I checked on them this morning and they’re fine.”

      Relief flooded her face. The pure beauty of her expression hit Jake like a punch to the stomach, forcing the breath right out of his lungs. For a few moments he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her as she gazed at the wildflowers lining the well-worn dirt road. His hands itched to bury themselves in that mass of soft hair, to run over her smooth cheek. She must have finally felt his stare because she turned to him, a curious look on her face.

      Jake twisted away and cleared his throat again, working to get a handle on his emotions and force them back into a corner of his mind. She might be beautiful, but he couldn’t afford to let her close enough to hurt him again.

      They traveled in silence until he turned the wagon toward a log cabin in the distance. “There’s the Wallace farm. I haven’t been out to check on them yet today. They...” He hesitated, not sure how much to tell her, but realized she would have to know soon enough. “They aren’t going to last long, so I’m trying to make them comfortable.” She nodded somberly and they both stared ahead for the rest of the drive, each lost in their own thoughts.

      After he pulled the wagon up next to the cabin, Jake helped Coralee down and grabbed their cases. He led her inside the small home, hoping their services were still needed. To his relief, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace were still breathing. But both had sunken eyes and a weak, irregular pulse.

      He and Coralee worked with quiet focus. They spoke in hushed tones to encourage their patients to drink a bit of the tea Coralee prepared. They wiped the older couple’s faces with damp cloths and they changed blankets. They administered calomel and rubbed the patients’ stomachs with camphor to ease their discomfort. It wasn’t much, but it was all they could do.

      While Jake was arranging Mr. Wallace’s blankets, the older man’s eyes fluttered open. He took a moment to speak with his patient. “Mr. Wallace, it’s Jake Hadley again. I’m here with the apothecary, Mrs. Evans. I want you to know...that is, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you or your wife will recover.”

      To Jake’s surprise, the older man’s pale face broke out in a peaceful smile. “Young man, that news isn’t as bad as you think,” he rasped as his eyes slid shut. “My hope isn’t in this life. It’s in Jesus and He doesn’t quit when I do.” The older man fell silent and Jake stared at his sleeping patient as stillness washed over him.

      Jake’s spirit stirred at Mr. Wallace’s confident faith. Where Jake had always struggled to live out his convictions, this man was bold even in the face of death. A longing lodged in Jake’s heart. Could he learn to rest in his faith so completely that even death

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