Out of Time (Book 1)

Sickness, Sorrow, and Siblings

1936

Betty and Steve shared a concerned glance across the dining table as they heard the sound of coughing from their mother's bedroom.

"You OK Ma? You want some water?" Steve shouted.

"No dear, I'm fine." Came the muffled reply.

Betty shook her head. In hushed tones she said "I'm worried about her Stevie. She's had that cough for far too long. She's hidin' something."

"I know what you mean." Steve agreed. "Do you think it's serious?"

"You know what I think Steve? She's sick, really sick. We need to talk to her." Steve nodded his assent as their mother entered the room.

"Hey Ma, here, sit down." Betty ushered her to the easy chair while Steve got her a glass of water, despite her protestations.

"I'm fine, you two, honestly, I'm fine."

Betty kneeled next to the chair and felt her mother's forehead.

"Ma, you're burnin' up. You're not fine at all. Look, we need you to be honest with us. We're not kids Ma, you can't fool us anymore."

Taking in the concerned expressions on her children's faces, Sarah took a shaky breath but before she could speak another coughing fit wracked her slight frame and she pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. Betty rubbed her mother's back as Steve crouched next to the pair. When her coughs had calmed Sarah drew her hand away from her mouth and there was no hiding the red staining on the handkerchief.

Steve gasped. "Ma, why didn't you say anythin'?"

"I didn't want you to worry." Her voice was so breathy.

"Have you seen a doctor?" Betty asked. "We could go see someone at the hospital tomorrow?"

"I have seen a doctor Sweetheart." Sarah said. She shook her head sadly.

"It's TB, isn't it?" Asked Betty, shakily, although she didn't need confirmation. Steve looked on in shock. "There's things we can do. We can even get you in the hospital if we need to. You just need some rest and I read about some new medication..." Sarah stopped her with a gentle hand.

"My darlings, the doctor has done everything. I don't want to go to hospital. I'm going to stay here and get some rest. I'll be fit as a fiddle again in no time at all."

With tears in their eyes, they both gave their mother a gentle hug and then made sure she was settled in her bed, with tea and water, and anything else they could think of to make her more comfortable. Over the next couple of weeks, they took it in turns to sit with her, trying to keep her spirits up. Even Bucky came and sat with her at times, reading out loud from whatever novel he was devouring. When they weren't sat with her, or at school, they were together, gaining comfort from the presence of the others.

It soon became clear that Sarah wasn't getting better. She slept more than she woke, and her coughing fits were getting longer and harder to recover from. The doctor visited yet again, and Betty could tell just from his expression that they were at the end of the road. Bucky was there with them the day that Sarah passed. He stood at the doorway, giving them space. The siblings clung to each other in their grief, Bucky supporting his friends as much as he could, his heart broken for them.

After the funeral service, Betty went to visit with some of the neighbours to thank them for casseroles and pies that they had baked for them over the last few days. The kindness of their neighbours had shown in the smallest of ways had made sure that the two young siblings could focus on getting each other through the worst of their grief, without having to worry about being fed, or getting fresh milk.

Bucky walked home with Steve. His parents had wanted to give them a ride from the cemetery, but Steve had just wanted to be alone. As they walked along the landing outside the apartment Bucky spoke up. He asked if Steve and Betty would stay with him at his parents' place. Steve reassured his friend that they'd be OK, even as he fumbled to find his key. Bucky gave him the spare key from under brick where they'd hidden it.

"We can get by on our own" he said to Bucky.

"The thing is you don't have to." Bucky replied, reaching out to put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "I'm with you to the end of the line Pal."

Later that evening, Betty sat with Steve on the couch in their small apartment, both of them staring into space with only a single lamp on to cut through the darkness.

"Are we goin' to be OK Stevie?" Betty whispered. Steve took her hand.

"We will be, I know it." He didn't sound so sure.

"What are we gonna do for money? It should be me sortin' all this out, but I just can't quite get my head round everythin' yet." She shook her head sadly as Steve turned to face her.

"Look. We've got Dad's military pension. I know its not a lot but it's somethin'. Ma saved as much as she could for us to make sure we could go to school so there's that too. I can pull some jobs as a freelance illustrator. We'll make it work Bets, for sure." 

He squeezed her hand. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she let the tears fall. She'd tried to be so strong for her little brother but the pain of today made her head feel like cotton wool.

"And we've got each other Bets." 

 Betty gave Steve a watery smile.

"Yeah, we do."