Chapter 30
Jacob moved to turn off the lamp. He paused, feeling a compelling urge he couldn’t ignore. He lifted the lantern, walked through the room to the kitchen, and then to the back door. He slipped on his boots, opened the door, held the lamp up, and stared outside into the bitter cold, unsure of what he looked for. He almost went back inside, when once again he felt that he shouldn’t. He paused. Turned. Walked across the back porch and down the steps, feeling the wind bite through his shirt. He told himself that he’d just go check on the livestock, then go back inside. He felt he must surely be tired or too occupied with thoughts of Lilly to think straight.
He almost tripped when his boot came in contact with something. He swung the lamp in front of him and the shine caught on the bluish white of Mrs. Lapp’s face and closed eyes, then on her exposed arms, summer nightdress, and pale, bare legs and feet. He almost choked as he tried for a second to process the image, and then he was down on knees, scrabbling in the snow to slip his arms beneath his mother-in-law. The light tipped and went out as he caught her against his chest. He rose and began to run with her slight weight to the shadow of the kitchen door.
Lilly came out of a sound sleep to hear Jacob calling her name. She ran from the bedroom to see him bending over the kitchen table, lamps lit, his arms moving feverishly over what appeared to be a bundle of quilts.
“Jacob, what’s wrong?”
She ran to his side, then saw her mother’s white face and blue lips in waxen relief against the wood of the table. She sucked in her breath and put her hands to her mouth in horror.
“She’s alive, Lilly. She’s breathing, but we’ve got to get her warm … better than this … We’ve got to get her to the hospital …” He muttered frantically as he rubbed her mother’s arms beneath the quilts.
“What happened … ach, what happened?” Lilly thought she might vomit. Instead she moved in a daze to rub her mamm‘s ice-cold leg.
“I found her … outside, lying in the snow … Lilly, I’ve got to go and get Grant Williams right now. He might be able to warm her up better … an ambulance might take too long … Can you stay here? Rub her arms and legs … try some warm cloths … I won’t be long.” And he was gone, coatless and hatless out the still-open kitchen door before she could say a word.
She sobbed aloud and ran to close the door, then took a deep breath. Think, she told herself, and began to pray. She snatched the bottle of liniment from the counter and spilled some of its contents into her shaking hands. She set about reaching beneath the quilts, spreading the herbal warmth across her mamm’s chest and down her arms.
“Help me, Gott … help her … help me, help me.”
Finally she lifted the quilts to climb upon the table and lay her body across her mother’s. She closed her eyes, listening to the faint heartbeat. She slid her hands to clasp at the body that had given her life and prayed that Jacob would hurry.
She became aware that strong, gentle hands lifted her. She sobbed, not wanting to move.
“It’s all right, Lilly … it’s all right …” Jacob cradled her against him and her eyes snapped open.
“My mamm … ?”
“Grant’s here now. It’s all right.”
She struggled in his arms and he set her down. She leaned against his cold bulk as Grant Williams bent with a stethoscope over her mother.
“Heartbeat’s fairly steady … but there’s no way for me to accurately measure core body temperature. I’ve got the basic equipment but I won’t take the risk of running fluids to warm her—not in this setting. We’ve got to get her to the hospital.” He lifted his blond head and nodded briefly at Lilly. “You probably saved her life with the liniment and the external warming, but there are still some risks. Get me all the tinfoil you have. Jacob, bring the buggy round; we have no time.”
They both scrambled to obey. Lilly ran in confusion to the pantry and brought out the large roll of tinfoil.
“Great.” Grant grabbed the roll and flung back the quilts. He glanced at Lilly. “I’ve got to take her gown off …”
“Yes,” she said.
He was quick and gentle, wrapping her mother’s limbs close to her body with the foil. “It acts as a heat conductor,” he explained. “Keeps heat in as well.” He continued the foil wrapping all the way up around her head, leaving room for her face, then he piled back on the quilts and picked her up.
“You’re coming, of course. Put a coat on over that gown and let’s go.” Lilly pulled on her cloak and bundled her hair down the back of her neck, inside the wool. She rammed her feet into a pair of boots, then realized that she still clutched her mother’s nightgown of summer cotton. She followed the doctor out to where Jacob waited with the buggy.