Eighth Wonder: The Thomas Bethune Story by A.M. Cal

Author:A.M. Cal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical fiction, civil war, musical, abraham lincoln, slavery, literary fiction, autistic, biographical fiction, prodigy

He let out a sigh, as Blind Tom was not improving and it seemed the boy's health was declining each day. He was relieved the Colonel had written and was willing to rectify the matter, personally.

XII.

Two weeks later, there was ice on the ground outside the small Charlotte hotel, but the sun was shining inside Thomas’s room through the open curtains. Annie placed a bowl of chestnut soup on a tray for the ailing slave who was sitting up in a tiny bed, but he weakly shook his head at the broth and pushed the chunky liquid away.

Soft light from the window fell on Thomas’s cheek and mingled with the pink tones of Vivian’s voice. It was a chilly winter afternoon, despite the sun. Thomas was on his back beneath two layers of sheets and three thin covers, a hot water bottle on his chest. He slipped his long fingers from beneath the blankets and raised them toward his face, then turned his head.

He heard water as his teacher dipped her hands into a bowl and a trickle of drops when she squeezed the rag, then felt the comfort of it as she laid the cloth on his forehead.

Thomas had been in the small bed the entire time they'd been in Charlotte. His empty stomach groaned, but he refused to eat. Not even the smell of chestnut soup could get him to part his lips. Though his stomach grumbled louder with each passing second, he shifted his hips and moaned.

“Tom’s gonna catch stroke and die,” he lamented. “Isn’t that terrible? Tom’s sick. Where's Master Colonel?”

“Mr. Tom, ya gotta eat now,” Annie said from beside Vivian, her voice heavy with concern. She tucked the thick flannel around his neck. Her skirt rustled as she turned in the chair. “I'm afraid he's gone waste away, Miss Vivian.”

“Annie's right, Tom. I know you miss your master and miss everyone back at Solitude, but you have to put something in your stomach,” his teacher said.

“Tom don’t want soup. Tom wants massuh Colonel,” he said, once again rejecting proper nourishment.

“We want you to get better, Tom,” Vivian said, leaning on the bed. “I know this is difficult...”

Thomas lifted his chin and tried to block out the shuffle of Annie's feet across the floor. He wanted to focus on the pleasant solid green of his teacher's voice.

“Tom, remember all those great men of music who gave testimonials about you? You are a great pianist-composer, the world needs to hear your beautiful music,” she said, moving the bowl beneath his nose. “You have to eat so you can have strength to play.”

The tiny room was cold. Thomas shuddered and rubbed his dry legs with his foot. He turned his head and shoved his hands beneath his bottom to keep them warm.

“Here Tom, open your mouth,” Vivian commanded.

She blew on the spoon in short puffs and shoved it toward his lips, while Annie lifted the covers and placed warm rocks wrapped in a blanket beneath his feet. He raised his hand to his forehead and mumbled, “Tom can't eat.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.