“That is a wonderful thing to do,” Aunt Polly whispered. “I’ll make breakfast for the young’uns here and get them ready for the day.”
“I’ll go with you, Jo,” Travis said. “I don’t care if you want me to rest. Ronan is my friend—he was there for me when Sophie passed, and I need to be there for him now.”
Josie nodded. “I won’t protest. We’ll go as soon as the biscuits are finished.”
Travis bowed his head in prayer. The worst was over for his family, but there were so many battling this epidemic. The darkness had yet to lift.
Josie stood at the Walshes’ cabin door, holding a basket of warm biscuits. Travis still looked pale and had a slight cough, but she would never discourage him from seeing his friends. Despite knowing Caroline for only a few months, she felt as if they had known each other much longer. Josie understood Caroline’s grief. She, too, had lost children—except there had been no one to mourn with her.
Travis knocked at the door, and it wasn’t long until Alice Walsh answered. Alice’s long, red hair was puffy and tangled, appearing not to have been brushed in days. Her gray dress, worn and frayed, seemed too small for her lanky frame, barely reaching her calves.
“Good morning, Alice,” Travis said, removing his hat. “We have come to pay our respects. Josie brought biscuits.”
“Thank you both,” she said, her eyes peering down. “We’re very appreciative. Please, come in.”
As soon as Josie stepped inside, she was taken aback by the cabin’s cramped space and disorder. It had to be half the size of theirs. Dishes were piled beside the indoor water pump and clothes were hanging in every imaginable place to dry. Given that Caroline was part of the Boston upper class, Josie assumed the home to have damask-wallpapered walls, elegant lace tablecloths, fine china displayed in a cabinet, oil paintings, and delicate trinkets adorning the shelves, even above the fireplace mantel. But instead, it reminded her of the shacks where her father’s slaves had dwelled.
The Walshes’ floorboards creaked beneath Josie’s weight, making her fear they might give way at any moment. She held her breath, fighting the urge to gag at the sharp stench of mildew. Despite the fire burning, a strong draft lingered in the rooms, sending a chill through her layers and making her shiver.
The other three children appeared, their pale faces streaked with tears. Nan, her hair in messy braids, looked like she hadn’tbathed in days. Liam, the boy about Jonas’s age, had a face smudged with soot, and his shoes were so worn they barely held together. Molly waddled behind them, her brows raised in confusion. Josie softened her expression and curved her lips into a gentle smile.
“I brought biscuits. Would you three like one?”
They nodded and reached into the basket.
“What do you say?” Alice asked, her hands on her hips.
“Thank you,” the three of them muttered.
Alice appeared beside Josie. “They haven’t spoken much . . . It’s the same with Mama.”
Josie observed as the children clutched the biscuits with their dirty hands, nibbling on them. In another life, Josie would be disgusted by the mannerisms and ask them to wash up, but there were more important things to pay attention to. Their baby brother had passed, putting a pause on the life they knew to be normal. This home looked like it hadn’t felt a woman’s touch in forever, which was understandable given what had happened.
“My father is in the barn, tending to livestock,” Alice told Travis. “He’d love to see you.”
Travis turned to Josie, touching her forearm. “I’ll be back soon.”
Josie’s heart hung heavy as she watched Nan struggle to swallow through her grief. The sight reminded her of the weeks it took for her to eat again after the epidemic atBelle Vallée.She’d been paralyzed by sorrow until Mammy stepped in, coaxing her to take each bite, refusing to let her waste away. Josie glanced over at Alice, who kept a watchful eye on the children, her own sorrow etched in the lines of her face.
“I’d like to see your mother, if you don’t mind.”
Alice wrapped her arms around herself, her voice strained. “She’d appreciate your company, but she’s not in a good state.She hasn’t left the bed since last night. She won’t say a word, just cries all the time. I’m really worried for her.”
Josie touched the fourteen-year-old girl’s shoulder. “I know this is going to be hard on your family for a while, but it will get better, I promise. God always heals the broken.”
Alice’s eyes, filled with concern, searched Josie’s face. “But why? Why would he take such an innocent baby? Brendon did nothing wrong. The worst he did was spill flour all over the floor. I don’t think God would punish anyone for that.”
“I know how you’re feeling. I wondered the same thing for many years after my family passed. I don’t understand the Lord’s will, but someday you will. God puts us through trials to test our faith, but He promises to never forsake His children. This trial is to bring you closer to Him, to show that you aren’t alone.”
Alice pulled Josie into a tight embrace. Alice sniffled, her face buried into Josie's shoulder. “Thank you, Mrs. Blythe. You have the kindest words.”
Josie rubbed the girl’s back with her fingertips. She could almost see her former self in Alice. Alice was young, now having to grow up so soon with young siblings to care for, along with an ailing mother. Josie prayed silently for Alice, hoping she would find the strength to grow through the trials ahead rather than be consumed by them, as Josie once had been.
Alice pulled away and dried the tears with her sleeve. “If you follow me, you can see my mother.”
Josie followed Alice through a quilt divider and stepped into the cramped space where Caroline laid in a bed barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Around them were pallets scattered on the floor, where the children slept. Another divider stretched across the room, offering what little privacy could be afforded. Josie’s stomach sank as she took in the sight of her friend. Caroline was pale as a sheet, her eyes red and swollen.
“Mama, Mrs. Blythe is here,” Alice said.
