ROMANOV AUTUMN
Chapter Two

With every bump in the road, Jack groaned in pain, and beads of sweat poured down his fever-flushed cheeks. "Help me," he whimpered as another fit of harsh coughing shook his body. Esther closed her eyes, her heart breaking. She barely knew these children, but watching little Olivia cling to her brother’s hand and speak in a soothing, almost motherly tone certainly touched her more than words could say.

"We are almost there, sweetheart," the widower encouraged, finding they could not seem to reach town fast enough. By the time it came into view, Jack had fallen unconscious again. Esther pulled the carriage behind her modest apartment, 302 Wellington Avenue, and lifted the ill child into her arms. Jack hung limply, his head bobbing a bit, as she and Olivia climbed the stone steps to the front door.

"Open that for me, will you, dear?" she asked, not wanting to risk dropping Jack. Olivia did as she was told, chewing on her lower lip as she stepped into the lobby. It was a cheery place, with white walls covered in rosebud print. The furniture surrounding them was constructed of light oak, and shimmered in the bright morning sunlight.

Esther carried Jack up the narrow staircase to the fourth floor, where she gave Olivia the key to open the door to 4F. The apartment was medium-sized, with a comfortable sitting room furnished with couches and chairs in a blue-violet oriental fabric. Esther had a small piano by the large window, the top of which was covered with a variety of musical scores.

Olivia followed Esther down the short hallway to one of the bedrooms, her heart racing with anxiety. Mrs. Williams seemed nice enough, but the child could not seem to get her mother’s warning about not mingling with strangers out of her head. Still, she knew she would rather be here than in an empty house, and she personally did not enjoy the Krammers’ company very much. She watched as the older woman eased Jack out of his damp, dusty clothes, frowning deeply when the thin clouds that rose caused him to cough and sneeze. She rummaged through his small duffle bag to find spare nightclothes, glad the boy had enough sense to pack just enough.

"Good boy. There’s my good boy," she soothed, after pulling the pajamas over his head and sliding him carefully beneath the blankets. "We’re going to have to fetch the doctor," she told Olivia, who had her hands at her sides and her eyes slightly downcast. "I do not want to send you alone, as you are so young. Would you mind sitting and keeping a close eye on your brother while I fetch him? He’s not but couple of buildings down the street."

Olivia nodded, accepting a chair to sit in, and sat beside the sickbed, watching her brother sleep. "I will."

Esther smiled softly as she went to fetch a bowl of lukewarm water and a washcloth, dampening the rag and resting it over Jack’s forehead. "Here is another," she added, handing Olivia a dry one. "You may dab at his cheeks and neck like this." She demonstrated the task, and Jack merely moved a bit, his head turning slightly to the side.

"I’ll take good care of him," Olivia insisted, and Esther gave her a smile before fetching her coat.

"I shan’t be too long." When she left, Olivia took in her strange new surroundings. It felt so cramped, this tiny flat, for she was used to her large farmhouse and plenty of acres to dash around in.

"Where d’you think they are?" Jack’s small, weak voice startled Olivia for a moment. She peered down, noticing he had opened his eyes just halfway. His breathing was so labored at the moment that his face contorted in pain every time his chest heaved.

"Who? Mama and Papa?"

Jack nodded. She took his hand, squeezing it gently, feeling like the oldest child for once. "I think they’re in heaven with all of the angels."

Jack closed his eyes again, and Olivia felt her lower lip tremble. It was hard to see the boy she admired so dearly suffering this way. Jack had been seriously ill before, but her parents never allowed her to be in the same room. It is not for you to see, darling. He wants us to tell you he loves you very much, though. Olivia sighed softly, her gaze drifting towards Monet’s famous lily pad painting. It hung on the wall opposite where she sat, the mixture of pastel blues, greens, and pinks mesmerizing her for a moment.

Jack’s harsh coughing brought her back to reality, and she eased him into a sitting position.

"I…" he squeaked, and Olivia quickly dashed for the porcelain wash basin on the dresser. Almost instantly, Jack vomited into it, gulping for air. Olivia cringed, turning her head away until he finished.

"I’m so sorry, Jack," she whimpered, as tears began rolling down his cheeks.

"Olivia…" He swallowed as she emptied the basin, and she paused in her work. "I love you…" he managed to gasp out before going under once more.

Esther returned with the doctor soon after. He was a very tall man who reminded Olivia of a very strict preacher. However, his weathered cheeks were rosy, and he smiled at her when their eyes met.

"Has he awakened at all?" Esther asked, urging the child to hop down from the chair.

"Yes," she replied. "But he got sick." She noticed the immediate change in Esther’s face, and quickly added, "But into the wash basin, of course."

Esther sighed with relief, placing a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. "I’ll put on a pot of tea. Come and help me, dear, and let the doctor do his work."

Olivia gave in, though she did not want to leave Jack alone.

"Your brother is going to be fine, darling. Dr. Olen is one of the best." She led Olivia into the tiny kitchen, and pointed out where she kept her box of tea bags, honey, and sugar. Esther filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove, while Olivia set the tea on the counter.

"Thank you, dear. Do you prefer a particular flavor? Apple cinnamon…that’s my guess."

Olivia licked her lips and nodded.

"Yes, please. And Jack likes mint."

"Hmm! Interesting!" Esther pulled both tea bags from the box, and retrieved four mugs. Once the water had heated, she put the bags in to steep.

"Honey?" she asked, and Olivia nodded again.

"Yes, ma’am?"

Esther chuckled. "Please, call me Esther. There is no need to be so formal."

Olivia blushed, scuffing her shoe on the floor.

"Thank you, ma’am…I mean, Mrs. Esther."

"Silly doll." Esther tapped her nose and handed her one of the mugs. "Careful now…it’s hot."

Olivia trouped into the parlor, blowing on the liquid to cool it down. She clambered onto the piano bench after setting the mug on the coffee table, and placed her small fingers over the black and white keys. She began to play the first notes of a song, feeling her throat choke up. She would never hear her mother or father’s voices as they sang that to her, ever again. Their voices were merely memories now, though she could see their faces so clearly that she could almost reach out and touch them.

Esther peeped out from the kitchen doorway, startled at the little girl’s skill.

Piano lessons were a must, and possibly voice lessons as well. Eventually, the doctor came out of the sickroom and pulled Esther gently aside. "He is developing a bronchial infection." He spoke in a quiet voice. "The boy’s lungs are doing poorly. His fever is high, but give him a cool bath every couple of hours. I’ll prescribe a poultice for his chest, which should help to clear him up a bit, but I’m afraid he’ll be fairly ill for the next week or so."

Olivia felt her stomach turn to ice when Esther returned to her with a pale face.

"Is he…" Olivia whispered, fiddling with the sash of her dress. Esther looked at the doctor, who smiled as confidently as he could.

"It is in its early stages, so I do not think he will die."

"Early stages of what?" Olivia demanded, stomping her foot. "What is wrong with my brother?"

Esther held out her hand to shush the little girl, and knelt down so she was eye level with her. "He is ill, dear, and will be bedridden for a couple of days."

Olivia bit her lip, sinking to the floor, hunching over slightly.

"Your son has hope, Mrs. Williams," the doctor told Esther, who placed a hand over her heart.

"Oh! These aren’t my children. I’ve just taken them in."

Dr. Olen raised his eyes. "Explain."

"They were running from a house fire, and I found them unconscious on the road."

"A fire?"

Dr. Olen rubbed his chin, as Olivia added, "Our barn burned down and our parents were killed."

"That could have made the boy ill…inhaling too much smoke, especially that thick, could damage the lungs."

Esther folded her arms. "I see." She wet her lips, and put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder after helping her stand. "Doctor, thank you for coming." She shook the elder man’s hand, and he returned the gesture.

"Of course, Mrs. Williams. I’ll write you a prescription to pick up the poultice, and let me know if it works." He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, handing it to the widow, who accepted it and nodded.

"Thank you. Shall I walk you to the door?"

He shook his head. "No, no. I can find my own way. My pleasure meeting you, miss." He tipped his hat to Olivia before heading for the door. When he was gone, Esther smoothed Olivia’s hair and raised her fingers before her face. "My dear, you are quite in need of a bath! Let me clean you up, and we’ll take care of Jack."

Olivia grumbled under her breath…she despised baths, and always fought her parents when they’d previously tried to give her one. "Don’t be silly! You’ll not melt." Esther steered her for the bathroom, and began to fill the tub. Once it was ready, she added a bit of lavender-scented soap bubbles, which made Olivia’s eyes droop with sleepiness. "The soap is in the dish there…wash yourself while I go and tend to your brother, and I’ll be back in a moment to wash your hair."

Olivia nodded, stepping into the warm water, and splashed around a little to get comfortable. Once she leaned against the back of the tub, she heard Jack coughing and his fitful whimpering. Oh, Jack, she thought, scrubbing at her skin with the soap. You must get well. You must.

Chapter Three
Stories