New Yesterdays by Jim L Wright - HTML preview

Chapter 10

Bridie was accustomed to life in a bustling city. New Orleans offered everything a person could possibly want. The streets were filled with the smells of Creole cooking, and freshly baked breads. Even the sounds of the street vendors were like music to her ears. The jostling crowds of women at the marketplaces gathering their foodstuffs for the day provided gossip, laughter and entertainment. It was a life she didn’t want to leave behind. Only her love for Seamus made her think she could adjust to life on the frontier.

In the beginning she was blissfully happy in the house Seamus had built for her. The Indian women were so helpful in getting her ready to keep house. They taught her how to prepare the traditional foods they fed to their families. She had never met an Indian before and their exotic air and free-spirited personalities were refreshing and exciting. But, after a year or so of living in the rustic surroundings she began to long for the ‘civilized’ life of the city. She tried with all her might to conceal her homesickness from Seamus. She was so afraid that he’d be disappointed and hurt, that he’d feel he hadn’t done enough to make her happy. As time passed though, she began to lose the capacity to hide her sadness.

In the beginning her melancholy states only lasted for a day or so. By the time she had been married to Seamus for two and a half years, the depressed periods sometimes lasted up to a week. During those times she had no clear recollection of performing her household chores or preparing meals. It was as though she was passing through the hours in a dense fog. Everything was surreal and lacked clarity. Every other thought was about New Orleans.

Bridie was relieved this morning when Seamus urged her to stay in bed and rest. She had been searching for the strength to get up and wasn’t sure she could find it. She vaguely heard him puttering about in the

kitchen as he got ready to leave for the fields and knew he was probably making one unholy mess. Frankly, she didn’t care this morning.

“I’ll just lay here for a few more minutes and then get in there and tidy everything” she told herself, “Just a few more minutes.”

Seamus bounded up onto the front porch and burst through the door. “Bridie, come into the front room; I have news for you!”

The house was eerily quiet. He stood for half a minute and wandered back to the kitchen. There on the table were his breakfast things. He felt panic rising up, wheeled around and raced to the bedroom where he’d left her that morning. He dropped to one knee beside the bed and took Bridie’s hand in his and she turned to look at him through dull, listless eyes.

“Bridie, what’s wrong love? Tell me how you feel! What can I get for you?”

Seamus felt desperate. She’d never done anything like this before. He was sure she was seriously ill. At once he knew he could never face life without her. It was she who made him complete and the idea of life without her in it was something his mind simply could not comprehend.

“Mo thaisce, my treasure, tell me what’s happened to you!” The stabbing pain in Seamus’ chest was nearly unbearable. “What can I do for you M’fíorghrá, my true love?” Bridie stroked his wet cheek as one big tear rolled down her own. “Don’t worry Mo chéadshearc, my first love, I’ll be fine. I’m just feeling a little weak this morning. Help me out of the bed and I’ll get your breakfast.”

Seamus’ heart seemed to stop. “Bridie, it’s evening. I had breakfast hours ago; this is worse than I thought!” Quickly, he considered the little he knew about medicine and decided this was far beyond his tiny abilities. “Just lie here a few more minutes Mo thaisce, I’ll get Adahy. He’ll know just what to do and you’ll be up and stirring about quick as a wink, sure!”

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Adahy looked up with some alarm when Seamus burst through the door. The Irishman’s face was pale as milk and his normally large green eyes seemed to be bulging right out of their sockets.

“Seamus, what’s happened?” Almost before the words were out of his mouth Seamus was tugging at his arm, lifting him to his feet. “It’s Bridie! Sure, something’s happened to her and she’s been in bed the livelong day! I’m afraid she’s dying! Please come quickly and help her!”

Adahy smiled quietly to himself as he hastened to gather his things. He thought the quiet Irish girl was probably pregnant. It was well known that women who are getting ready to give birth sometimes became melancholy and difficult to deal with. He was certain it would be nothing more than this. “How has Bridie been doing lately?” he asked as they walked quickly toward the house. “She’s been fine, so she has. There are days when she isn’t quite herself, but I thought it was the heat or maybe she was just tired. No, it’s nothing like that I’m sure now. She’s never taken to her bed like this!” The rest of the short journey was made in grim silence.

“You go inside and make yourself a pot of your famous tea, Seamus. I’ll see to Bridie.” The last thing he wanted, or needed, was a near hysterical Irishman peeking over his shoulder as he took care of the sick woman. Quickly, he looked around the house and, as always, was fascinated by the different way the white woman kept her house. Large, bulky furniture and tables with their lacy doilies and antimacassars and oil lamps scattered here and there seemed as foreign to him as they did the first time he saw them. The shelves lined with books were also a mystery that he longed to solve. Their own Sequoya had developed an alphabet and the Cherokee were rapidly learning to read. He looked forward to learning it himself.

The wise medicine man approached Bridie’s bed and spoke to her. “Bridie, tell me what is ailing you. Do you have pains?” She looked up at him with grateful eyes and grasped his hand. “Thanks ever so much for coming Adahy, but I’m in no particular pain. I just feel like all the world’s in a heavy fog. I can’t see clearly and I’ve no interest in doing anything at all!”

Adahy reverently brought out the sacred pipe, fitted it together and lit it as he chanted incantations and prayers. After he’d finished, he prepared a bag of herbs and roots and gave Seamus instructions on their use. He felt sure Bridie would be back in good health in a day or two. Seamus went back into the kitchen and began to prepare a tea from the materials in the leather pouch. He fervently prayed Bridie would be back to her old self soon.

“M’fíorghrá, let me help you to sit up a bit so you can take your tea. Adahy left some medicine for you and you’ll be fit as a fiddle in no time at all!”

The Irishman tried to keep his voice light to avoid betraying the fear that gripped him. After the first sip Bridie declared the stuff was poison, but she forced a tiny smile and bravely continued drinking.

“Bridie, you must drink the tea and get yourself better as quickly as you can. I’ve a surprise for you; we’re going to New Orleans to sell the cotton and we’re going to spend a few weeks in the city!”

Bridie nearly dropped her teacup. “New Orleans? Really, Seamus, are we really?”

“Yes, my treasure. It’s been too long you’ve been away. I want you to enjoy the sights and foods. I want you to go shopping and visit with your family.”

Seamus was amazed at the sudden change in her demeanor. Was it the news or the tea? He wasn’t sure, but he knew his Bridie would be just fine and that’s all that mattered.

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