Delia read the note in the laundry’s darkest corner, then burned it over the stove.
She wanted to go, but she needed a plan that included both boys.
The younger child, Eli, had a cough that worsened after sunset.
The older, Daniel, had a habit of asking why some children could attend school while he could not.
Delia had no answer she could give without teaching him how much danger lived in an innocent question.
On the day the colonel announced a visit from the trustees, Delia was sent to carry fresh linens to the private nursery.
The infant lay beneath a quilt embroidered with the Whitmore crest.
His skin was flushed, and his breathing sounded uneven.
Doctor Avery stood by the window speaking with the colonel.
“The child should not be moved again,” Avery said.
“His lungs are not strong.”
Nathaniel replied that the trustees would need proof of identity before the inheritance could be secured.
“The boy’s health must come before documents,” Avery said.
The colonel laughed bitterly.
“Documents are the only reason anybody in this house is pretending to care about his health.”
Delia nearly dropped the linen.
Nathaniel saw her and ordered her to leave.
Before she went, she heard Avery say that “Mrs. Whitmore’s first account” could not be reconciled with a second one now being circulated by Voss.
Delia did not know what the accounts said.
She knew a sick baby was being treated like a line in a ledger.
That evening she packed her sons’ belongings in two baskets and waited until the rain muffled their footsteps.
She left by the orchard path, carrying Eli while Daniel held her skirt.
The journey was slow, but the blacksmith at the ferry welcomed them without asking what they could pay.
When Delia reached Lottie, she did not begin with the colonel’s papers.
She began with the baby’s breathing.
“Somebody must help that child,” she said.
“He is sick, and they are fighting over his name instead of calling for care.”
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Physician’s Limit
Mercy received Delia’s message while visiting Augusta at a farm north of the river.
The midwife was tending a woman recovering from childbirth and had been awake through two nights.
When Mercy described the infant’s breathing, Augusta stood and reached for her bag.
“We have to find a physician who can go into Hawthorne without being turned away,” she said.
“Doctor Avery is already there,” Mercy answered.
