Nels spent most of Sunday playing cards with Doctor Hiram Baker. For once, neither of them had anything to do, and they had been meaning to play cards for a while.
It was a bright day, and quite a lot of the sun flooded into Doctor Baker's office, draping the floors. They played at a small square table, hunched over their cards in hard wood chairs. They played for apples instead of cash, mainly because they both had far too much of the fruit. The autumn season allowed apples to be more than plentiful in the mercantile, and Doctor Baker was primarily paid with the fruit at this time of year.
So far, Hiram was on a winning streak and had a pile of red apples in the chair next to him. "I'll tell you, this might have been a mistake," he chuckled. "I can't think of a way for one man to use so many apples."
"And it's a more dangerous matter for a doctor," Nels laughed. "Do you vanish if you eat one?"
"Yes, sir, right to the pearly gates." He slapped his cards down on the table and revealed a flush.
"Luck's on your side today, Hiram," said Nels, putting down nothing but a two-pair, the doctor dragging more apples into his arms.
"You'd best be careful, Nels. I'm liable to clean out the mercantile at this rate."
Hiram shuffled the cards for a time and Nels looked out the dusty window while he waited. The sky was a deep blue, like a big chunk of sapphire. Across the way, he could see the mill where Charles Ingalls, Almanzo Wilder, and Samuel Richmond were working. "I'm glad Samuel's back on his feet again," Nels commented.
"He's strong for a man his age," the doctor replied, dishing out the cards. "I just hope he doesn't push himself too hard at that mill. I tried to get him to rest a few more days, but he wouldn't have it. Hopefully he calms down some when his niece goes back to the cabin this evening."
"She's making some real improvements, don't you think?"
"Oh, sure. She's gone from bedbound to being able to make little strolls across the street and back. And I appreciate you taking her out for the occasional walk; you know I can't be around to help her all the time."
Nels gave him a tight-lipped smile. It was hard for him to forget the last time he walked with Charlotte, both of them getting soaked, him ending up holding her in his arms for much longer than he should have. What am I doing? He thought to himself all the while. He so enjoyed being around her, listening to her, touching her. Now more than ever he wanted her to stick around, for the mercantile and his home had become incredibly lonely and quiet.
Without Harriet and the children, he could read his newspapers and books in peace. He could go straight to sleep without his wife nagging him. He didn't have to yell at the children for stealing candy and toys from the store. But how silent everything was when he was the only person wandering about the house. Only busying himself with work could distract him from the immense emptiness in his gut... and Charlotte.
She was like a breath of fresh air. She didn't have a mean bone in her body, and she always listened to him so attentively when he spoke, even laughing at his mundane jokes that his wife would have yelled at him for being moronic.
And he liked helping her.
"I imagine we'll be seeing less of her once she's no longer across the street," said Nels.
"It's probably best that she sees less of me," Hiram chuckled. "Who wants to deal with a doctor so often? I'll have to keep checking up on her for a little while more though; her health isn't out of the woods yet. And anyway, I'm sure she'll come around the mercantile at least once a week."
"Oh, I don't know. Her uncle usually does the shopping for her." Nels supposed it was a good thing that she returned to her cabin with her uncle. He could focus more on running the mercantile and figuring out how to get back on good terms with his wife. Besides, she had much of her strength back and once Doctor Baker removed her cast, she would have no need for Nels's help anymore.
"She's nice company though, isn't she?" said the doctor, scrutinizing his cards. "She's right entertaining when her mood isn't low. She used to be awfully shy around me too, but it looks like she's become more of herself now. I suppose she's like that with you too."
"Sure," Nels replied, though his mind was elsewhere. As brief as a flying bullet, he felt an unusual pang of jealousy at the idea that Charlotte might have as close of a relationship with Doctor Baker as she had with him. She was nothing but friendly with both men, of course, but Nels couldn't help but remember the time his niece, Kate Thorvald, came to town. She was more or less Charlotte's age, and she and the doctor fell in love just about instantly when had to mend her hurt ankle.
The idea of the same thing happening with Charlotte Richmond irked Nels, just a little. But the idea didn't last long anyway, since the doctor was a dear old friend of his, and they all had their own lives to live.
They played cards for a little while longer, chatting about the mercantile and sick patients. Eventually, Hiram brought up a subject Nels had been trying to avoid. "Hear anything from Harriet yet?"
"I tried calling her at her mother's, but she didn't pick up," Nels sighed. "I sent three letters to her and the children, too, but God knows if I'll get any response."
"Well, give her time."
"I am. I just don't know how much time I'll have to give her before she'll give me the light of day again. She's a woman who likes to hold a grudge, you know." He was deeply angered that she picked up and left so quickly. By the time the stagecoach was out of sight, he still couldn't believe it. And yet, he was still the one trying to reach out to her, trying to make amends, doing all the dirty work at the store while she was likely spending her time shopping in the city.
Later on, they stopped playing cards when the doctor won just about all the apples Nels had brought with him. "You might want to reconsider your profession, Hiram," Nels said.
"You might have a point," he laughed, stuffing some of the apples into the drawer of his writing desk and leaving the rest on the table. He tugged on his black waistcoat and adjusted his string tie, glancing out the window at the dusty street. "Well, I ought to check on Charlotte before her uncle takes her home. Nels, you ought to come. If you've played cards with me this long, it means you've got nothing better to do for the day, and coming along is better than sitting around."
The doctor was not wrong, so Nels accompanied him down the street to the hotel. Up the wooden stairs and down the hall, the doctor rapped on Charlotte's door and opened it.
But Charlotte was not there.
The sheets on her bed were torn from the mattress, some splayed across the floor. The lamp on the nightstand in the corner was lit, producing a dull, whimpering light. Doctor Baker, puzzled, took a step further into the room and looked at something Nels couldn't see on the floor on the other side of the bed.
The doctor rushed to whatever was on the floor, and when Nels stepped closer, he found Charlotte face-down, unconscious.
The two men dragged her back onto the bed, the doctor shaking her by the shoulders. "Charlotte," he expressed. "Wake up."
The young woman's head lulled, her dark hair plastered to her skin that was paler than Nels had ever seen. "What's wrong with her?" Nels asked urgently.
"Doesn't make any sense," the doctor hissed under his breath, trying to sit her up, but she was as limp as a ragdoll. He gave her cheek a few firm slaps, but they did nothing to rouse her. Her eyes remained firmly closed, her face stained with dried tears.
When the doctor adjusted his footing, a clear, high sound rattled across the floor, but he was too preoccupied with Charlotte's state to notice. Nels hurried to that side of the bed and found the glass bottle of a tonic that was all but empty except for an inch of clear liquid. Some of it had spilled onto the floor, and beside it was a gently soaked letter.
"Hiram," Nels said firmly, showing him the two objects.
Doctor Baker grabbed the bottle and sighed distressingly. "Why would she drink so much of this? She's smart enough to know the amount of alcohol in this. Nels, I need you to bring me some cold water, fast."
Nels did as he asked, stuffing the letter into the pocket of his waistcoat. He rushed through the empty restaurant into the kitchen where he grabbed the first bowl he saw and filled it at the water pump. His mind was frazzled as he moved, splashing water everywhere as he took the bowl back up the stairs.
She had been doing so well, he thought. She was in a good mood. What happened?
When he returned to the room, Doctor Baker wasted no time taking the bowl and tossing the frigid water over Charlotte's face.
Charlotte's eyes bulged and her mouth opened in a silent scream, a gasp tearing through her as the water soaked her. "Charlotte!" Doctor Baker shouted, grabbing her face and trying to get her to focus on him, but her eyes whirled around the ceiling like they were following shooting stars.
Her violent reaction lasted but a moment before her eyes drooped and she again entered her stupor, her body limp as if dead. The only difference was that the rise and fall of her chest was noticeable now. Doctor Baker located the pulse in her wrist and counted the beats, dragging a hand down his face.
"Is she all right?" Nels asked, taken aback.
"At the moment, all right is a strong way of putting it, but that water managed to stimulate her breathing. I'm going to get some more water and see if I can get her to drink. Stay here with her." The doctor moved past him, swift as a hawk, and hurried down the stairs.
Nels stared at Charlotte half-sunk in her bed, paler than a porcelain doll, with that dreaded tonic gleaming on the floor. He didn't understand. He didn't understand.
And then he remembered the letter in his pocket.
He retrieved it and immediately paused. He knew that whatever contents it held were responsible for Charlotte's actions. What was most curious was that the envelope that the letter came with was addressed to Samuel Richmond, not Charlotte.
I can't read this, he thought to himself. He knew better. But he cared about this young woman and wanted to know what got her so upset. He couldn't stop himself. When he unfolded the paper, he finished reading it almost instantly because it was so shortly written.
Samuel,
Things aren't going well, and I don't think they'll improve imminently. The old house is gone for good; a friend of mine told me that a couple bought it and turned it into a lodging house.
Things in Chicago are not much better. I had to sell Martha's pearl necklace. I've enclosed a portion of those earnings in this letter, though I know it isn't much. It has proven difficult for me to find work again; no firm will have me. I may need to try my luck in a different city, Detroit, perhaps.
Charlotte must stay out of the picture for now unless she has miraculously become the picture of health. I cannot take one more burden. The cost of calling a doctor for her or putting her in the hospital would ruin me. She must not return to me until she has the strength to perform at concerts again where she could earn a proper income, but such a thing sounds like a faraway dream.
Keep her in the country and tend to her as you've been doing. I'm sorry I can no longer help.
Your brother,
James
Nels jumped when Doctor Baker entered the room, and with him was Samuel looking a little breathless. "Samuel," Nels said somberly, handing him the letter. "I think you should have a look at this. She had it with her when we found her."
Samuel snatched the paper and read it quickly, swearing through his teeth and balling up the letter as he finished it. "He's worthless," Samuel hissed. He tried to calm himself down, going to his niece and holding her hand. "C'mon, Charlie, wake up, wake up."
Doctor Baker brought an enamel cup full of water to Charlotte's lips, but most of the liquid dribbled down her chin in her unconscious state. From his valise, he produced a glass straw which he filled with water and managed to get into her mouth. The young woman's throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she made no other response than that.
The doctor seemed unsatisfied with her response. With his pointer finger and thumb, he pinched her earlobe harshly enough to cause her eyes to flutter open, groaning in discomfort. "Charlie," said Samuel, looking down at her with immense concern. "What are you tryin' to do?"
Hot tears filled her eyes, flooding down her cheeks. "Just... wanted to know what Father wrote," she said, her words thick and hard to understand. "Mother's... pearls. Gave us this... with Mother's pearls...." Her right fist unraveled and revealed a $5 bill. "Lost... the rest, didn't he?" she murmured, her eyes staring into oblivion. "The house... the pearls... like she never existed. He wants... to do... the same to me...."
Her eyes fell shut again like heavy theater curtains. "Charlie," said Samuel, nervous, as he patted her on the cheek. "That ain't true, c'mon now. Charlie?"
"I think it's best that we let her rest now," said Doctor Baker, putting a hand on Samuel's shoulder. "It'll take some time for all that alcohol to get out of her system. All we can do is wait."
Samuel dragged a hand down his tanned face. "This is all my God damn brother's fault. Took everything and then took some more. Charlie can't keep gettin' worked up like this. She takes things too hard, always has. But she ain't never reacted like this. She ain't never had to worry about not havin' a place to come home to, about not havin' money, about...." Samuel sighed deep in his throat. "Suppose it's my fault, too. If I hadn't gotten sick, she wouldn't have come lookin' for me, wouldn't have had that attack...."
"Samuel," said Doctor Baker. "You can't blame yourself for falling ill just as you can't blame your niece for having a bad heart. There are just some things you can't help."
"Samuel," said Nels, stepping up to the man. He hated to see that old man so upset when he was usually such an upbeat person. "It's like the doc said. All we can do right now is wait. There's no use in getting worked up when there isn't anything that can be done right now. I think the best thing left to do is to rest and wait for your niece to come back to her senses in the morning."
Samuel's eyes trailed along the floor. He nodded silently and sat on the edge of Charlotte's bed, all the lines in his face illuminated in the dull light of the nearby oil lamp. His form cast a shadow over Charlotte, who looked gray and cold against her wet pillow.
"Maybe it's a cruel thing to think about my own brother," he muttered, half to Nels and the doctor, half to himself. "But I almost wish he'd just drop dead already, or stop writin' us and disappear. Charlotte wouldn't suffer half as much that way. Not half as much. Only James could layer misery atop misery and lay it all on his own daughter without even realizin' it."
Samuel glanced at them with his hooded eyes wrought with pain. "I know you two fellas are fond of Charlie. Ain't never met nobody who didn't grow fond of her after a while. But I've got to ask you both a favor: leave us be for now. Don't want her stressin' anymore right now. She just needs some peace and quiet."
Nels and the doctor did as he asked, if not a little reluctantly. Descending the stairs and going outside, the sky was now overcast and much darker than before, a melancholy shade of periwinkle. There were darker clouds on the horizon, the path of town leading right toward them, and the air smelled heavy and humid as if it might storm soon.
Nels and Hiram stood on the porch of the restaurant, looking into the street that had become calm and empty except for a few shrouded old women trying to make it back home before it started raining. A steady breeze blew by, chilly and moist, carrying the scent of dry autumn leaves. "There's a certain pain that comes with being able to help only so much," said Doctor Baker glumly, resting his hands on his hips.
His words resonated with Nels so much that they seemed to settle down into his bones. "I know what you mean."
Hiram looked down at his pocket watch and sighed as he snapped it shut. "Can't stick around, Nels. Got to check up on old Mr. Thomson and hopefully avoid a downpour. See you around."
Nels gave him a small wave, watching his dark, lean figure retreat down the street. His gaze relocated to the mercantile directly across the street, and he took a step forward to return to it, stepping into the street, but then he stopped.
He stared at the store, its dark windows, its white painted exterior, the big sign above that read 'Oleson's Mercantile.' It was bountiful with colorful things: floral patterned fabrics, big jars of candy, rows of fruit preserves, beans, cough medicine, shiny metal tools, and of course, all the people that would come in and out every day.
But Nels knew that the moment he stepped foot in there now, he would be overrun with incredible loneliness. Sure, he could distract himself for a while with a good book, relaxing in the parlor in a soft embroidered chair, then cooking himself a small dinner and sitting down at the dinner table. But all that would become very desolate very quickly.
It wasn't necessarily that he missed Harriet's nagging and the constant bickering of his children; he just missed some kind of noise. Some kind of company, even if the company he was accustomed to wasn't very good. For him, spending time alone was pleasurable only to a certain point. After a few hours, he wanted to return home to somebody.
But there was no one to return to in that mercantile, in that house. That's what kept him there, standing in the empty street, suspended in a strange limbo. Then he thought about Charlotte and how she had no home to return to at all, save for a simple cabin, and he felt all the worse for her.
He eventually went to the porch of the mercantile and started sweeping it as he always did. He liked keeping it clean, even though it was a fruitless task. He felt productive as he did it. And it allowed him to be outside just a little longer.
So, he swept, and the sky got darker and darker, a heavier gale than before blowing down the street, taking a few drops of rain with it. It felt like only a few minutes passed for Nels, but when he checked his pocket watch, he was shocked to see that two hours had gone by.
Where in the world is my mind? He thought. He couldn't stop thinking about Charlotte Richmond lying in that bed across the street. He wondered what God was trying to do to that poor girl, with all the suffering she went through. A part of Nels wished he could take her burdens just so she could lead a happier life.
She lights up a room when she's pleased.
There weren't many people who could do that, or at least he hadn't met many in his life.
He tried not to think of her much more than that, because the reality of her situation depressed him. He knew that there was a good chance that her life would be nothing but perpetual disappointments. Getting well, getting sick, getting well, and getting sick again. And nothing he or Doctor Baker or anyone could do would change that.
And yet, when Charlotte had the chance to be happy, even a small chance, she would take it completely and entirely. Nels found that he admired her deeply for that. Between her miseries, her brief periods of happiness and humor were more prominent than what he experienced in his own life.
He was about to finally go inside when he looked up to find Samuel walking over from the hotel. "Samuel?"
"Nels," sighed Samuel, looking tired. "I've got to get myself back to the cabin to close the shutters and check the horses before this storm tears out the windows. You've already been a big help, and I'd hate to ask you for anythin' more since you're busy, but could you watch Charlotte until I get back? Don't want to leave her alone in her state."
"Well, sure," said Nels, propping the broom against the wall.
Samuel gave him a small smile and slapped him friendly on the shoulder before he left. Nels wasted no time getting back to the hotel as it gave him another excuse to avoid going back into his empty house. The wind that whipped down the street was strong enough to nearly give him an earache.
Nels sat quietly by the window in Charlotte's room, which had grown dark but for the oil lamp at the nightstand. Charlotte was still asleep, breathing softly, her hands resting on her chest as if she was ready to be buried. Nels stared out the window, watching whirlwinds of leaves streaking the air and getting caught on windows and stairs.
He figured he would sit in silence until Samuel got back, but he was wrong.
He turned back to Charlotte when he heard her turning over in bed. He went to her and touched her shoulder lightly as she threatened to roll off the bed. She tried to make that roll again, but he kept her in place a second time, and she gave a heavy, defeated sigh. She was not as pale as she had been a few hours ago, though it could have been the golden nature of the lamplight. Her face pressed against her pillow, her long eyelashes glistening, her lips slightly parted.
Nels smiled gently down at her. Asleep, she looked entirely unperturbed by the problems of the world.
She's darling, he thought. He felt that it was very much a fact. Anyone who saw her ought to think the same. But the thought, which he quickly placed in the back of his mind, still startled him as he hadn't had such a thought about a woman since he married Harriet.
The scintillating eagerness he felt in his stomach whenever he saw Charlotte baffled and worried him. It worried him just as much as the stray, fleeting thoughts he sometimes had of her, of hugging her, squeezing her, kissing her face, treating her as a proper woman instead of how her old beaux seemed to treat her.
Ridiculous thoughts fit for an adolescent, he told himself nonchalantly, as if his own mind belonged to someone else.
He was about to return to his place by the window, hoping Samuel would come back soon, when Charlotte's eyes fluttered open. She glanced around, but it was obvious by the glassiness of her eyes that she was still heavily under the influence of the tonic. She saw him and squinted as if she didn't recognize him, clicking her tongue. "Water?" she croaked.
Nels grabbed a cup of water from the nightstand and helped her drink, some dribbling down her chin as she ravenously consumed it. "How are you feeling?" he asked, placing the cup back on the nightstand, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
She ignored him or perhaps didn't hear him, her eyes wandering around the dark ceiling where the lamp cast a stretched, flickering light. She blinked so slowly that Nels was sure she would fall asleep again at any moment. Her gaze eventually landed on him, and she stared at him for a rather long time before she started to smile and giggle.
"What is it?" Nels asked, a small grin crawling onto his lips.
She muttered something, but it was so slurred that he couldn't understand her. He asked her to repeat herself, kneeling down beside her bed to hear her quiet voice more clearly.
She kept on smiling at him, her droopy eyes glinting in the lamplight. With a weak, swaying hand, she reached out and let the tips of her fingers clumsily touch his face for but a moment. "Pretty blue eyes," she murmured. "You have... pretty... blue... eyes...."
Her words trailed off and she fell asleep again, blissfully unaware of the consequences of her words. Unaware of how they made Nels Oleson blush harder than he ever had since he was a boy, and how they caused an incredible sensation of heat and tightness and breathlessness to rise up in his stomach like a swarm of sweetly stinging bees.