What happened next all came in a blur. There was Ethel, who bundled Briar up and sat beside her in the wagon. Briar had no idea whose wagon it was; the sun was too bright in her eyes, making them tear up in pain. There were voices, but it sounded like they were talking underwater. Distant and distorted. A wet cloth was pressed to her forehead, but soon the cloth was as hot as her skin and offered no relief.
She tried to keep her thoughts and prayers focused on little Maribelle, but her mind kept slipping into nothingness. When a bump jostled her, she woke, only to wish she hadn’t. She tried to lift her head to see what was crushing her lower legs. They hurt and she wanted the weight off, but her mouth wouldn’t say the words. A moan finally escaped and Ethel got busy wiping her brow again.
“It’s hitting her faster than the others,” Ethel said. “I’m worried.”
Next thing Briar was aware of was being carried, feeling the gentle thump, thump of footsteps. It reminded her of when she was a child and her dad would carry her off to bed if she’d fallen asleep in the wagon. It was a comforting feeling, even if her body felt aflame. She was transferred to her bed, and refreshingly cool water was applied to her forehead.
“I’ll take it from here,” said Fanny. “Thank you, dears.”
“I have to get back, but you should stay. For when she wakes up.” The voice was Ethel’s.
“No. No, I can’t. I’m leaving, too.”
A deep voice. A man’s voice. Henry? Could Henry be home and back at the cottage? Oh Henry. It would be good to see him again. She missed him terribly. Missed the way he would tease her on their walks. How kind he was to the children. Henry, sweet Henry.
“I have to leave for Burlington.” He brushed her hair away from her forehead. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Get better soon, okay?”
A flash of light as the door opened, then back to darkness. A jingle of reins and clomp of hooves. Wheeler. It was Wheeler who carried her in. But he wasn’t staying.
Where was Henry? He was missing. He was the one who should be here. Why wasn’t he here? He loved it here.
And where were the children? She couldn’t hear them playing. It was too quiet in the little cottage, as if everyone were holding their breath.
She tried to tell them it would be okay, but her mouth wasn’t working. So hot. So raw. She tried to fight the darkness but it was too strong. She let it overtake her.
When she came to next, there was a glow of candlelight and hushed voices of the children and scraping of plates. It was comforting to be home with family, even if she wasn’t at the table with them. She turned her head, letting her eyes adjust to the light. Even the dim, smoky haze was too much for her sensitive eyes, and she closed them again, but not before Benny saw her.
“She’s awake.”
“Briar?” Pansy came over, her sweet voice thick with concern. “Are you alive?”
Briar forced herself to smile. At least she hoped it was a smile. Her body didn’t seem to be responding to the commands she tried to give it.
“Fanny, look. She’s okay.”
“All right, child. Come away and finish your supper.”
“Will we get polio, too?” asked Jack. Last winter both boys came down with the chicken pox and, once the worst was over, thought it great fun to be allowed to eat and play in bed. Until they grew so restless they were begging to be let outside.
“No, dearie. What Briar has can’t be caught. You’ll be fine.”
While everyone was distracted, Briar tested out her limbs. Her legs hurt and she couldn’t move them no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t tell if she was moving her toes at all. But her arms allowed her to slide herself up on her pillow. They ached a little and this worried her. What if the paralysis worked its way up even farther? To her lungs? Her heart?
Briar must have drifted off again, because the next thing she knew, Fanny was bustling around the room, putting up dishes and hustling the children to bed. Once gentle snores indicated the children had fallen asleep, Fanny came over, a cup of tea in hand.
“A good, strong briar-rose tea. Not at its full strength this time of year, but it should slow the progression of the poison,” she said. “Good thing I make it a habit to grow a variety of roses no matter where I am, don’t you think?” Fanny helped Briar sit up with extra pillows, enough to drink without spilling. The extras would have come from the children’s beds. Bless those wee ones for sharing.
While Briar sipped, Fanny lifted the blankets and applied liniment to Briar’s lifeless legs.
It was a strange sensation. Briar couldn’t feel the touch on her skin, but there was pressure and it hurt from the inside out. She winced.
“Sorry, dearie. It must be done.”
Briar gritted her teeth. Fanny had the boniest fingers.