Free Waiting for Morning by Margaret Brownley

Mrs. Trotter on her family’s diet.
    “I have a vegetable garden,” she said. “We raise chickens and goats, so our children also get plenty of meat and milk.”
    “What does he do in his spare time?” Caleb asked.
    “He doesn’t have much spare time.” She smiled fondly at her son. “I make him practice readin’ and writin’ every day. And he still has chores. Mostly he sleeps. He seems tired all the time.”
    Caleb tapped his chin and considered other possibilities. A number of diseases could cause exhaustion and swollen lymph nodes. Could be a low-grade infection or allergy. Mrs. Trotter said her other children were healthy, but as Lucretius pointed out inthe first century BC, what was food to one might be poison to another.
    “What do you think, Doctor?” Mrs. Trotter’s voice and demeanor pleaded for good news.
    “The bruises and pale skin suggest anemia. That means his white blood count is probably high. Anemia can be a symptom of many things.”
    She knitted her brow. “Like what, exactly?”
    “Uh . . . allergies. Infections.” He cited other possibilities. “I’d like to run some tests.”
    Mrs. Trotter looked him square in the face. “Dr. Fairbanks, I may not be what you call an educated woman, but I know when someone’s beating around the bush. I reckon there’s not much ground left around that bush about now.” As if to brace herself for the bad news to come, she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “Doctor?”
    He glanced at Jimmy playing with his foil ball. “Why don’t you wait in the other room while I talk to your mother?” He glanced at Magic asleep in the corner. “You can take my dog with you.”
    Jimmy slid off the examining table, clapped his hands to get Magic’s attention, and left the room with the dog at his heels.
    Caleb blew out his breath and sat forward, hands folded on the desk. Would he ever get used to delivering bad news? “There is a . . . condition called leukemia. I’m not saying that’s what your son has, but we have to consider it.”
    “Is this . . .”
    “Leukemia.”
    “Is this . . . leukemia serious?”
    He sat back, as if distancing himself from her would make what he said any easier. “I’m afraid it is.”
    She took a sharp intake of air but otherwise remained motionless. After giving her a moment to gather her thoughts, he continued, “Leukemia is a cancer of the blood cells. I’m not fully convinced that’s what we’re dealing with, but like I said we have to consider it.”
    Her shoulders sagged and her lips trembled. His words had sunk in. “How . . . how contagious is it?”
    “It’s not. Or at least not that we know of.”
    She studied him from beneath tightly drawn brows. “If it’s not contagious, how would he have gotten such a thing?”
    “It’s hard to say,” he said. “We know a lot more about diseases than we did even a few years ago, but we still have a lot to learn.”
    “In other words, you don’t know.”
    “I’m afraid not. Like I said, it’s just one possibility. Meanwhile, I’ll give you a tonic to help replace any nutrients he might be missing. Just to make certain, we don’t want to overlook the possibility of an allergy. It would help if you keep a diary of everything he eats and drinks. Also, list any of his symptoms and the time of day he experiences them.”
    A doctor was only as good as his detective skills. He stood and reached into the cabinet for a bottle of cod liver oil and handed it to her as a measure against scurvy and rickets. No one knew why cod liver oil worked, but it did.
    She sat perfectly still for a moment, as if she needed time to brace herself before moving. Finally she stood. “I’ll bring him back next week.”
    “Tomorrow,” he said. “I want to see him tomorrow.”
    She hesitated. “My husband and I . . . we can’t afford any luxuries.”
    “This is not a luxury.” The Trotters weren’t alone in their thinking. Shelter, food, and clothing were all many