Chapter 32 - One Last Spring

Every time Lewis woke, Gwen offered him a drink, and by early evening, she’d managed to persuade him to consume four cups of water and one bowl of broth. His temperature, although still higher than it should be, had not returned to the dangerously high level it had been at when she’d first arrived that morning, and with a small fire in the grate, the front room was a much more comfortable place to be. The sofa seemed more like a bed now that it had a pillow, sheet, and blanket, and even though Lewis’s legs still hung off the end, he was resting more peacefully.

When Owen and Rowland finished work at the smithy, they brought home the cot that Ioan Llanwddyn occasionally slept on and set it in the hall. An hour later, Rhys Jones arrived and carried the cot into the front room, positioning it not far from the sofa. Aunty Jane and Bronwen had done their job. Bronwen had been fairly sure that Rhys had had the measles as a boy, when he’d lived in Porthmadoc. Aunty Jane had visited the tailor to confirm that it was true, and upon hearing of the Morgans’ plight, Rhys had agreed to spend the nights with Lewis until he was well enough to sleep alone.

With Mair overseeing things from the hall, Gwen gave Rhys basic instructions on keeping Lewis cool with wet towels on his forehead and regular drinks of water, then left with a promise to return early enough that Rhys could go home for breakfast before opening his tailor shop for the day.

When Gwen returned to the Morgans’ house the next morning, she discovered good and bad news. The good news was that with Rhys’s help, Lewis had been able to bathe and wash his hair, and his temperature was remaining steady. The bad news was that he was now covered in little red dots from his head all the way down to his feet.

“Hello, Spotty,” Gwen said when she entered the front room to find Lewis sitting up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

She was rewarded by a small chuckle. “I do look awful, don’t I?” he said.

“Not awful,” she said, moving closer to touch his forehead. “Awful was yesterday. I’d rather have you covered in spots and sitting up than pale with a fever so high you’re barely functioning.”

Lewis grimaced. “I don’t remember much about yesterday,” he said.

Gwen looked away. “That’s probably good.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and then Lewis broke the silence. “I wish I could have been here for Robert’s memorial service.”

She sat beside him. “I do too,” she said sadly. “I missed you.”

“Finding out that he’d died and that I’d not been here for you made for one of the worst days of my life.”

Gwen looked down. “The service was very nice,” she said. “Mr. Ellis spoke, and we sang some of Robert’s favorite hymns, but it was a little strange to have it all over at the end of the chapel meeting rather than going on to the cemetery. It felt like something was missing.”

“I can understand that,” he said.

“Going to Liverpool helped. I think that touching and seeing the same ocean that flows over Robert’s burial spot gave me some closure.”

“You went to Liverpool?” Lewis said, his shock evident.

“Yes. Thomas took me to the dock. Robert’s ship had already left, but I dropped some rose petals from Aunty Jane’s garden into the sea. I’d like to think they might float all the way to India.”

Lewis cleared his throat uncomfortably. “It was good of Thomas to do that for you,” he said. “I must thank him the next time I see him.”

“I’m not sure if or when he’ll be back,” she said.

“Why?” he asked with surprise. “Where is he?”

“Liverpool,” she said. “The chief engineer wanted him back at the office there.”

“I see.” He paused. “How do you feel about that?”

Gwen wasn’t sure if the strain in his voice came from weakness brought on by his illness or the question itself.

“I’ll miss him,” she said. “But he belongs there, just as I belong here.”

Lewis stared at her as though he was still trying to process what she’d said. “You really believe that?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “It was hard to say good-bye to a friend, but it was best for both of us.”

It looked as though Lewis was about to say something more, but instead he started coughing. Gwen grabbed the cup of water on the small table beside the sofa and held it out to him. He took a drink, and Gwen took back the cup until the coughing slowed.

“Perhaps you should rest a bit,” she said.

Lewis nodded. “This coughing began a few hours ago,” he said croakily. “Once I get started, I can’t seem to stop.”

Gwen tried to hide the panic welling up inside her. She’d heard a similar cough coming from her parents’ bedroom for days before they’d died. And she recognized the drawn look that the recent coughing attack had put on Lewis’s face.

“Has anyone sent for Dr. Edwards?” she asked.

“Dad sent word with Ed the Post,” he said.

“Hopefully he’ll be here before too long, then,” she said, more to herself than to Lewis.

“I daresay,” Lewis mumbled, his eyes already closed.

Gwen pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and stepped away. Saying a silent prayer for strength to overcome her fears, she knelt at the fireplace and started clearing out the ashes. Soon she had a fresh fire going and had moved Rhys’s temporary cot to the corner of the room. Mair came to check on her a couple of times, talking to her from the hall and handing her two bowls of warm custard, one for her and one for Lewis.

Lewis slept through the morning, and although Gwen knew it was the best thing for him, the time seemed to pass slowly for her. Every once in a while, he would cough in his sleep, and Gwen would hold her breath, hoping that one cough would not develop into a full-fledged coughing attack.

Occasionally she would stand beside the front room window. It gave her a good view of the road, and she could watch the villagers going about their daily activities. She kept an eye out for Dr. Edwards, but when the knock came on the front door, she was changing the damp towel on Lewis’s forehead, and he caught her by surprise.

Mair let the doctor into the house and then hovered in the hall while he entered the front room.

“Well, Lewis,” he said. “This is not the way I wanted to see you next.”

“No, doctor,” Lewis said, struggling to pull himself upright on the sofa.

“It’s all right, lad,” Dr. Edwards said, placing a hand on Lewis’s shoulder to prevent him from rising. “Let’s take a look at you while you’re lying down.”

The doctor pulled a stethoscope out of his black bag, and Gwen silently stepped out of the room to join Mair in the hall.

“He’s been coughing,” she whispered.

Mair nodded, looking worried. “I could hear it from the kitchen. I’m glad the doctor’s come. Perhaps he can do something to help.”

The two women waited anxiously while Dr. Edwards checked Lewis. When he joined them in the hall, he sighed.

“It’s a bad case, Mrs. Morgan. I’m not going to lie,” he said. “But he’s a strong lad, and given the good care he’s getting, I think he’ll pull through. Keep using the wet towels to control his temperature, and give him lots of fluids. As soon as he’s willing, give him some soup or oatmeal to build up his strength.”

“What about his cough?” Gwen asked.

Dr. Edwards frowned. “Walking all the way home with a raging temperature certainly didn’t help his symptoms. His lungs are still clear, and that’s the main thing. We just have to keep them that way. Give him some hot water with honey to drink; that should soothe the irritation. ” He shook his head. “I hate to see another village go through this. I’m not going to do anything now since you seem to have Lewis isolated, but if anyone else goes down with the measles in Llanwddyn, I’ll have to order a quarantine.”

“We’ll do everything we can to keep it contained,” Mair said.

The doctor gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. I’ll stop by again in a few days, but if things get any worse, send word with Ed the Post immediately.”

Mair walked Dr. Edwards to the door, and Gwen went back to Lewis. He was sitting up on the sofa, looking miserable.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m not a patient patient,” he said glumly.

Gwen smiled. “Not many of us are.”

A knock sounded at the front door again.

“D’you think Dr. Edwards forgot something?” Gwen asked, walking back across the room. She glanced into the hall. It was empty. Guessing that Mair had gone to the kitchen to make a hot-water-and-honey mixture for Lewis, Gwen entered the hall and opened the door. To her surprise, she was greeted by Ed the Post.

“Hello, Gwen,” he said cheerfully. “I heard I might find you here. I have a box for you, and I thought I’d drop it off on my way rather than having it sit on the doorstep at your aunt’s house.”

“A box for me?” Gwen looked at the small wooden crate with confusion.

“That’s right,” he said, lifting it and placing it just inside the door. “How’s Owen’s boy doing?”

Gwen tore her eyes off the mysterious box to answer him. “Dr. Edwards said it’s a bad case,” she said, “but we’re all hoping for improvement soon.”

“Absolutely,” Ed the Post said. “You give him my best wishes, you hear?”

Gwen nodded. “I will. Thank you, Mr. Hughes.”

She closed the door behind the postman and stood staring at the box. The writing on the address label looked vaguely familiar. Crouching down, she studied it more carefully. Miss Gwen Humphreys. Suddenly she remembered where she’d seen that handwriting. It belonged to Captain Tecwyn Owen, and this must be the box he’d promised to send. Slowly she rose and took a big step back, unexpectedly afraid of what it might contain.

“Who was it, Gwennie?” Lewis called from the front room.

Gwen moved closer to the doorway. “Ed the Post dropped off a box for me.” She tried to keep her voice even. “I . . . I think it’s from Captain Owen. He promised to send me Robert’s things.”

There was a moment of silence before Lewis spoke again, and when he did, she could hear the compassion in his voice. “Would you like company while you open it?”

Gwen looked over her shoulder at the box and then back at Lewis. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I think I would.”