“Tante Anna, come quick. Mama can"t breathe.”
Anna turned from the pot she was stirring and saw the frightened face of thirteen-year-old Olga. Her raspberry lips were still cracked from the high fevers, but she had recovered. Clara had never regained any strength and her coughing and fevers remained. Keeping the children away from her or Clara away from the children had been impossible. Three-year-old James would cry or sneak into her room and Olga had tried to help. She would minister to her mother or carry out the thunder mug. Martin would try to watch James, but he was less than attentive at keeping a three-year-old away from their mother.
At one time, Anna had all three as patients. Olga still had the remnants of the flu when Anna arrived. Young James had been next and then Martin. T
