Chapter 68
Eric
Luke lies motionless on the ground in front of me. My heart thumps wildly against my ribcage. His limbs resemble those of a rag doll. I turn his head and gaze in horror at his pale face. Eyes are glazed, and his lips are frozen, darkening and turning deep blue.
The stillness is what unsettles me most. It is something I have seen far too many times before, those images burned into my mind. So many men on the battlefield, friend and enemy alike, left in this unmovable state of soullessness. And now I see it in my own young brother.
He’s dead.
An ache the weight of a ball of lead forms in my chest. Air freezes in my lungs. Life has left my brother’s body.
“Move!”
The command sounds hollow, distant.
I feel firm palms shoving against my chest. “Eric, get out of the way!”
Startled at the sound of my name, I look up. Hattie’s eyes flash with authority, and I release Luke’s arms, staring blankly at the imprints my fingers have left on them.
I rise, mindlessly stepping backward as Hattie kneels and examines him. Her fingers feel for a pulse I know does not exist.
Loud wails erupt next to Hattie, grabbing my attention. Willie stands there, wild tears pouring down his face. I reach an arm out to him, and he steps around Hattie and falls against me. Holding him tightly, I make no effort to silence his crying.
She continues to tend to Luke in a way that is foreign to me. She repositions him, holding his head up, his chin pointed toward the sky.
I hear splashing behind me as Charlie approaches, and I turn to look at her. Though she’s drenched, I can still nearly discern which of the drops on her cheeks are tears.
“What is Hattie doing?” she asks.
All I can do is shake my head from side to side. “I do not know.” I offer her my other arm, and the three of us stand transfixed while Hattie continues her… efforts.
“Is he—” Charlie does not finish her sentence.
“Yes.” I can barely choke out the word. She covers her face with her palms, and I feel her body jerking with quiet sobs. The moments press on as we stare at the scene before us.
A dark cloud of horror descends upon my heart. I see our mother’s face, already tight from the worry about her sons old enough to go off to war, only to receive this news of her youngest child. Her heart will shatter at losing him, and I fear she will never recover.
I imagine my father, a proud, good man, having been closely involved with the war effort. His spirit will now be flattened by this loss. Redcoats be damned, he may take up the rifle himself despite his age, leaving no enemy standing.
And I… I have yet to feel much beyond the heavy wound in my heart, Willie’s shaking, wailing body beside me, and Charlie’s cold, dripping hair and muffled sobs.
Hattie repositions herself, pinching Luke’s nose shut.
“Now what is she doing?” Charlie whispers.
“I do not know,” is all I can answer.
Hattie bends over, blowing air into Luke’s blue, parted lips, and I don’t understand why. She has tended to my brother’s body too long. It is time to inform my parents and arrange for his burial. There is no reason to delay the inevitable.
“Hattie, I—” I begin.
But she cuts me off. “Trust me!” she shouts. “I know what I’m doing!”
I go silent, somehow feeling that trust build in me and—dare I admit it—the tiniest shimmer of hope. She blows into his mouth again, then positions her hands over his chest and begins pressing down in solid, rhythmic movements.
“You’ll hurt him!” Charlie calls.
I open my mouth to tell her no one can hurt Luke anymore, that he is beyond pain. But hearing Willie’s shaking sobs, I stifle my reaction.
“Just wait,” Hattie says, her voice calm, determined. She silently counts the number of hand presses, then goes back to his mouth to blow into it again.
I watch her graceful, purposeful motions as she repeats the pattern again. Luke’s tiny body jerks with each movement. Even I begin to fear for him, though I know the thought is irrational. Still, I let go of Willie and Charlie and step forward, moving my arm in to pull Hattie away from him.
“Hattie—” I begin, but my words catch in my throat.
Movement stirs from the ground below Hattie. My arm freezes mid-air as I realize it is Luke, moving of his own accord. My heart jumps, skipping a beat.
His gurgling sounds quickly turn into hacking coughs. Hattie rolls him onto his side, where he spits out mouthfuls of water between each choking gasp. She rubs his back and looks up to me with a bright, relieved smile.
I scarcely know how to react, my heart and nerves caught in a frenzy of emotion. Through the efforts of this woman, and a miracle of God, my brother lives!
I drop to the ground again while Hattie moves to the other side of Luke. She continues to rub his back while I brush his drenched hair off his face and touch his warming cheek. He continues to cough, and Hattie slowly moves him up into a sitting position.
Silently, I wrap my arms around him, careful to give him room to breathe. He coughs in spasms against my chest, but it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
After a few moments, I release him to allow Willie and Charlie to hold him, and I turn my gaze to Hattie. She sits on the grass by Luke, her knees pulled up to her chest as she steadies her breath. What miraculous procedure has she done to save my brother? She did it with such quick action, with self-assurance and expertise.
Luke coughs again, taking me out of my thoughts and drawing Hattie’s attention as well. “We should get him inside,” she says.
I squat next to Luke and meet his eye. “I’m going to carry you home.” He nods softly, still coughing into his hand. I turn to Charlie. “I need you to fetch Dr. Langley.”
Charlie nods, quickly slipping her dress over her head. Hattie is there in an instant helping her fasten the back. Charlie takes off running without another word, lifting her skirt almost to her knees to aid her speed. I return my attention to Luke, scooping him up and adjusting him so he’ll be comfortable. Hattie already has Willie by the hand, following behind us as I quickly make my way through the woods.
Though I make haste, my mind wanders. The ache in my gut has subsided, fleeting away with Luke’s every movement in my arms. He is well, warm, and his breath is steady, though occasionally interrupted by coughing. I was so certain of his death, that familiar darkness washing over me as it had at the sight of my fallen companions in battle. To my knowledge, no one has ever used such a procedure to restore breath. But Luke… his revival was so sudden, quivers of fear still echo through my veins. My heartbeat still pounds out of rhythm, and confusion still clouds my mind.
Hattie saved Luke’s life.
We pass my cottage, but I continue on toward my family home, anxious to deliver a frightened—but alive—Luke to our mother’s arms. Perhaps then, I will have the time to ask Hattie about her efforts.
The canopy of trees thins as we reach the main grounds of our property, and I pick up speed toward the house, glancing over my shoulder to be sure Hattie and Willie have kept pace. Hattie’s hand is clasped protectively over his as they both run only a few yards behind me. She holds her skirt in her free hand.
Finally, we reach the back entrance. “Mother!” I call while I throw open the door with one hand, leaving it open for the others.
I hear her light footsteps on the stairs before Mother appears through the kitchen doorway, her eyes widening when she sees Luke in my arms. “What happened?” she demands, running toward us with arms outstretched.
I release Luke, who reaches for her. Mother falls to her knees to set him on the ground, moving his hair and clothes aside to examine him. “He went under in the creek,” I explain quickly.
She gasps, her eyes meeting mine. “How long was he underwater?”
“About three minutes,” Hattie answers for me.
Mother whips her head around to gaze at her. “Three minutes? How is this possible? How is he not—” She turns back to Luke, placing both her palms on his cheeks before pulling him into an embrace and kissing the top of his head. “My baby,” she says softly.
“Miss Miller performed some sort of procedure,” I try to explain.
“He should probably lie down until the doctor can look him over,” Hattie suggests quickly, not elaborating on my statement.
I nod toward my mother. “Dr. Langley is on his way.”
Mother pulls back from Luke, taking his face in her hands again. “Can you walk?” she asks him.
He nods weakly, and she stands, wrapping her arm around him. “We’ll get him to the parlor. Abigail, please get him some warm broth.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hadn’t even noticed our cook entering the room.
I follow my mother and stand by the divan while she comforts Luke. Hattie follows, and I notice she hasn’t dropped Willie’s hand until now. He seems so calm considering the circumstances as he stands next to Mother. Gazing at the reassuring expression on Hattie’s lovely face, I can see why. She has managed to save one of my brothers while comforting the other.
I am astounded by her. Truly.
After a few moments, I hear the click of hoof steps approach the still-open back door and go to escort the doctor inside. I quickly lead him to the parlor, with Charlie following. Mother stands and steps aside.
The doctor frowns. “I was told this boy drowned in the creek.”
“He did,” I confirm. “He was lifeless when I found him and managed to pull him out after a few minutes.”
Dr. Langley knits his bushy brows so tightly they nearly touch. “How is it that he appears so well?”
It is not a question I can answer, but I attempt it. “Miss Miller completed a procedure that restored his breathing,” I say, gesturing toward Hattie.
“Procedure?” the doctor asks, turning to her.
“I gave him CP—I performed chest compressions and forced breaths to expel the water from his lungs,” Hattie explains. I watch as she demonstrates where she positioned her hands. The process seems simple, yet brilliant.
“I have never heard of such a procedure,” the doctor says. “How did you come to know how to do this?”
All eyes, including mine, lock to Hattie, who inhales before answering. “I swam a lot as a child and learned about safety from those around me.”
I furrow my brow, confused. The explanation makes sense, yet even our own doctor has no knowledge of the procedure for restoring breath. Perhaps there are new developments in Hattie’s hometown that have yet to reach Boston.
The doctor places his ear against Luke’s chest and examines his eyes, ears, and mouth. “He appears to be well,” he announces. “Ensure he rests until at least tomorrow. If anything seems amiss, send for me again.”
“I will, thank you,” I tell him firmly.
He picks up his medical bag, taking one more look at Hattie before wishing my mother well and walking out the door.
I gaze at Hattie, mesmerized. So many questions circle through my mind as my eyes meet hers. A pleasant warmth rises in my chest, catching me by surprise. So much about her is a mystery, yet I have seen such extraordinary action from her. She is kind, accepting, and nurturing, yet she is fierce and confident when needed, as well as intelligent and capable.
How did she come to be here just when we needed her most?
Who is this remarkable girl?