The Problem Child (Emerson Pass Historicals 4)

Sunday evening,I sat at my parents’ kitchen table. Mother had made a beef stew, saying it was only right since Nora was coming for dinner. The Cassidys’ farm had provided most of the beef for Emerson Pass for as long as I could remember. Since Mr. Cassidy’s death, Nora had run the farm by herself. Now that she and Isak were engaged, they were actively looking for a buyer. So far, they’d not had any luck. Until she could sell the farm, Nora felt stuck doing the hard work of running a small ranch. Isak was anxious to marry her and have her and her mother move in with him. Until the farm sold, however, that would be impossible.

Mother served us all heaping bowls of stew before joining us at the table. Isak had brought a loaf of his crusty bread. I took a chunk and spread creamy butter over it.

Isak lifted his water glass. “We have something to celebrate.”

“The farm sold today.” Nora smoothed a hand over her corn silk–colored bob. “To a family from Denver. They want to move in as soon as possible.”

“Did you get a good price?” Father asked.

“We got what I asked for,” Nora said. “After some concessions.”

“My fiancée was a shrewd negotiator,” Isak said.

“It helped that you were there,” Nora said. “Otherwise, he would have thought he could get away with more since I’m a woman.”

“Does this mean we will have a wedding soon?” Mother asked softly. “You’ve had to wait a long time.”

“With your blessings,” Isak said. “We’d like to do it at the end of the month.”

“The new owners will take possession on the twenty-seventh,” Nora said. “Then I’m free.”

“And I’ll be the luckiest fellow breathing.” My brother beamed. He’d been patient, but I knew he was more than ready to start this new season with his beautiful bride.

We raised our glasses. For the rest of the dinner, we discussed their plans for the future. I could see from the gleam in my mother’s eyes she was already thinking about the babies who would come to bless us. The offspring of my large Nordic brother and tiny Nora Cassidy, of good Irish stock, would surely be pretty. I had to confess to being excited by the idea of some little nieces and nephews. Under normal circumstances, I would have been overjoyed, but my worry over what was happening at the Barnes estate had me less than my usual jocular self.

“What is it, brother?” Isak asked. “Is something troubling you?”

“It’s little Addie Barnes,” I said. “She’s ill. The family’s worried sick.” I explained to them what I knew and that she was refusing to eat. “Yesterday, they were encouraged because she was feeling better. Theo’s idea was to take away all foods and start adding them in one by one. She was fine until last night when she had bread for dinner.”

“Bread?” Isak asked, sounding offended. “What could bread do?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “After she ate it, she was very sick. She doesn’t want to feel that way any longer. Thus, she’s refusing to eat.” I looked over at my mother. “They’re afraid she might not make it.”

“Oh, dear me,” Mother said.

“That’s terrible,” Nora said. “What can we do?”

“Not much we can do, other than pray,” I said.

“We’ll get the whole town to pray.” Isak swept his hand across the table. “I’ll ask all our customers to pray.”

The Barnes family would be touched at the thought of the whole town praying. “It’ll give them hope, I think.” Hope. Such a massive idea within one small word. What would we do without it?

Mother’s brow had creased the way it did when she was thinking hard.

“Mother, what is it?” I asked.

“I just remembered something. There was a little girl back in Norway. A class chum of mine. She’d been sick for a few months and not able to go to school. Her family owned a bakery. They discovered, finally, she couldn’t eat baked goods. Bread and muffins made her sick. My mother told me once that there were others like her too. Anything that had flour in it made them sick.” She lifted her gaze to me. “What if Addie has the same thing?”

“Was your friend cured?” Isak asked.

“No, not cured, but the symptoms stayed away as long as she didn’t eat bread.”

I leapt from my chair, knocking my water glass over. Fortunately, it was empty. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but it could definitely be what Addie has.” Couldn’t it? I looked wildly around the table at the others. They were all nodding in agreement.

“It was rumored to be a Scandinavian ailment,” Mother said.

I pressed my hands to my mouth and looked at the door. Should I go out to the Barneses’ house now? Yes, a voice seemed to whisper in my ear. Go now. “I’m going out there now to tell them what you’ve told me. Maybe this will convince Addie to eat.”

“Godspeed,” Mother said.