“Ooooh,” both girls said at the same time. From the way they stared, I could tell they never expected it to be so light and beautiful inside.
“Of course, it looks much better when the wisteria is blooming,” I told them. “There’s nothing in the world as beautiful as that. But you’ll have to wait till next spring to see it.”
The girls ran from room to room exploring all the nooks underneath the little groves of trees and pointing out the windows where there was gaps between branches.
After we ate our picnic, we crossed a log over the creek and followed a path that led to the river. By the time we got to the river they wanted worse than Christmas to get in the water. I did too, but I knew it was my responsibility to keep them out. “You heard what that doctor said on the radio. Stay out of the water, on account of most of the people who got polio was swimming or fishing before they got it.”
“Huh,” said Ida. “You just told us nothing bad ever happens in here.”
“Yeah,” said Ellie. “I’m fixing to get in the water.”
Them girls had me there for a second. But I thought real fast.
“Well, that’s true,” I said. “But this river is the dividing line. And we ain’t taking no chances. If you get close to that water I’ll beat you with a hickory stick.”
Sometimes I felt like I had turned into a mean old woman, what with my daddy going to war and my brother getting polio. Sometimes I wanted to rip them overalls right off and throw them in a fire. I didn’t think no thirteen-year-old girl should have to burn her brother’s toys and tell her sisters they couldn’t go swimming in the river.
And that night at supper I was thinking I shouldn’t be eating sweet corn and tomatoes when my momma couldn’t have any and might not even get a taste of them if she stayed at the hospital with Bobby all summer long.
But later, when I was drifting off to sleep, I remembered something I had heard on Junior’s radio about farmers donating their garden foods to the polio hospital. And right then and there I started cooking up a plan.
10
Hospital Visit
August 1944
The next morning when I got the newspaper off the Hinkle sisters’ back steps, I seen a brown paper sack there with my name on it. I opened it up and inside was six molasses cookies.
I looked up and seen Miss Pauline and Miss Dinah standing in the kitchen window. The two of them looked exactly alike with their dark glasses and their hair pulled back in a bun. Except Miss Dinah only come up to Miss Pauline’s shoulder.
“Thank you!” I hollered. They was nodding and smiling and I could see they was trying hard to say sorry for the way things was with the quarantine. Which, if you want to know the truth, was off by then. That man from the health department had come and took the sign down about three or four weeks after he put it up. But that didn’t mean them sisters was over their fear of polio.
I come home by way of Junior’s house. I stood at the end of their lane and whistled the Bob White call.
Then I waited for him to whistle back—Bob-bob-white.
After I waited and whistled two more times, I heard him call me back. Bob-bob-white. He done it three times and each time it got closer. The next thing I knew, he was coming around the bend by the cedar trees.
“Hey,” he said. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But I need your help.”
“You name it.”
“Take me to the emergency hospital.”
Junior shook his head. “Ann Fay, are you thick in the head? You know they ain’t letting nobody in over there.”
I grabbed his arm. “That ain’t true. We heard on the radio where farmers are taking vegetables. I want to take some corn to my momma. And I could give a bushel of potatoes. I’m desperate for Momma and maybe I can even get a look at Bobby.”
“They ain’t gonna let you in. They got a policeman out there guarding the road. I heard that on the radio too.”
“Junior, we gotta try. We’ll tell them we just want to deliver the vegetables and leave again. You don’t think we’re gonna get polio from driving up to the building, do you?”
“How should I know? I hear tell people are covering their faces with their hankies and shutting their train windows when they go through Hickory.”
“Well, that’s just ignorant. And you are too, if you think I’m gonna let you talk me out of this. Don’t you and your momma have some vegetables you want to give to the hospital?”
Junior’s nose started twitching like it always does when he’s nervous. Instead of answering me, he plucked one of them weeds that has a cone-shaped seed head. He made a loop out of the stem, pulled it tight, and shot the seed cone like an arrow over my head. He was stalling for time.
“Junior Bledsoe, are you going to help me or not?”
“I don’t know, Ann Fay. I’m sure we could donate a peck of green beans. We just picked a bushel this morning. But even if Momma agrees, we ain’t gonna get by with this.”
“The least we can do is take a chance. If the hospital needs food, they ain’t gonna be choosy about who brings it, are they?”
Junior didn’t seem convinced, but he ain’t good at saying no. So before the day was out, we was heading for town in my daddy’s truck.
I wasn’t planning to take Ida and Ellie with me. They was supposed to stay home and play in the yard, but Ida threatened to go wading in the creek while I was gone. So what choice did I have?
I don’t know how Junior knew exactly where that hospital was, but one thing about Junior is, there ain’t much he don’t know. He drove straight to it. I was surprised to find it wasn’t in town really—it was close to Lake Hickory, so close you could see the water. The closer we got, the more nervous I got.
Ida and Ellie bounced on the seat and chanted, “We’re gonna see Bobby.”
“Just put that idea right outta your head,” I said. “Bobby is in an iron lung, and he sure ain’t gonna be out in the yard where we can see him. Just be saying your prayers that we get a chance to see Momma.”
Right when we turned on the road to the hospital, I seen a policeman standing there. He held up his hand for Junior to stop. Junior took a deep breath and said, “I hope you been saying your prayers, Ann Fay.” He rolled down his window.
The police leaned in, looking us over like we was criminals trying to rob a bank, and asked, “Can I help you?”
I reckon I should’ve waited for Junior to speak, him being the man and all. But I leaned forward and said, “We brought some vegetables for the hospital. I heard you’re accepting donations.”
The police looked at Junior. “You can’t just drive in here like this. Not with those girls in the car. It’s not safe for them.”
I thought he was talking about Ida and Ellie, so I said, “We can drop the young’uns off somewheres and come back.”
You would’ve thought I wasn’t even there, the way the police ignored me and spoke to Junior. “Take these three girls home and come back. I’m sure Mrs. Townsend will be grateful for the vegetables.”
I was getting set to argue when Junior said, “Yes, sir.” And just like that, he jammed the truck in reverse and backed out the road.
“Junior Bledsoe, what do you think you’re doing?” I hollered. “You said you’d help me see Momma.”
Junior didn’t say a word and I thought for sure he was mad. When he got to the end of the road he backed out in the street and drove away.
Well, I was mad too. “You’re crazy,” I said, “if you think you’re going back in there without me.”
Junior set his jaw in a hard line and drove on down the road that went at an angle below the hospital. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road. “Well, that police ain’t letting you in there, so I reckon you’re gonna have to sneak in.” He peered out the window past my head. I looked where he was looking. There was a slope covered with bushes and weeds by the side of the road. At the top of that slope, I could see the pine trees that surrounded
the hospital.
And I could see what Junior was thinking.
All of a sudden I wanted to hug that boy’s neck. “Yippee!” I said. “I’m climbing that hill.” Then I remembered the twins. They had to get out of the truck too. I didn’t see how all three of us could sneak in. But I opened the door and hopped out. I jerked my head so they would know to follow. “Come on.”
“Are we gonna get caught?” asked Ida.
“No,” I promised. “Not if you do what I say. Junior, you be sure to give me enough time to get up that hill before you go driving in there. I’ll give the Bob White call when I’m getting close. You stay down here and listen till you hear it. Okay?”
Junior saluted me then and said, “Yes, sir!”
And I wasn’t even wearing my overalls.
Wearing britches would’ve come in handy because there was a lot of blackberries on that hill. But I stomped down the briars and led the twins through.
We stomped and huffed and puffed our way up that hill, and every time one of the twins opened her mouth to speak I told her to hush or it would ruin everything. Finally we was at the top. I peeked through the tall grass at the edge and seen a rock building. It looked just like the newspaper described it. I was glad the police was out at the end of the road, but I knew someone else might catch me.
I turned and seen Junior parked right where we left him on the road. He had turned the truck around and was waiting for the signal.
Bob-white. I whistled so good I knew if that police or anyone else heard me, they would think it was a bird for sure. Junior started up the hill.
“Ida and Ellie,” I said, “I might be able to sneak in close. But three of us would never make it. Some doctor or nurse would look out the window and see one of us for sure.”
Well, it’s a wonder some doctor didn’t hear them right then and there, the way they both hollered. “Ann Fay, you promised we could see Momma!”
I clamped my hands over their mouths. “I did not. I only brought y’all along on account of you threatened to go wading in the creek. Now if you’ll cooperate, I’ll have a surprise for you.”
Ida pulled her head away from my hand. “What kind of surprise? Ann Fay?”
I had to think fast. “Look,” I said and I pointed out to the water. “Lake Hickory is right over there. If you wait behind these bushes till me and Junior come after you, we’ll drive you over there. It’s big as Bakers Mountain and I bet it’s real cool under those trees.”
The girls didn’t make no promises to stay there. I glanced around and I couldn’t see Daddy’s truck no more. So I knew Junior had turned onto that road and was probably talking to that policeman right this minute. Somehow I had to make the twins stay in the weeds, and I didn’t know how I was gonna do it. “Look,” I said. “We still got sugar at home. If you stay right here and don’t cause no trouble I’ll make you a cake.”
“Make a cake?” Ida whispered.
“Make a cake and take us to the lake?” asked Ellie.
I was getting real desperate because I knew Junior was probably fixing to unload those vegetables any minute. So I said, “Yes, make a cake and go to the lake.”
“Hey,” said Ellie. “That rhymes. ‘Make a cake and go to the lake.’”
I pushed her down in the weeds and said, “Yes, it rhymes. Say it one hundred times real slow and maybe I’ll be back by then. Now don’t move, you hear?” Then I climbed over the top of the cliff and run to the nearest oak tree.
There wasn’t many big oaks with trunks to hide behind. It was mostly young pines, so I was going to have a hard time staying out of sight. Suddenly I wished I had wore my brown dress instead of my light blue Sunday one.
About that time I heard a truck come around the back of the building. I peeked around the tree and seen it was Junior. He got out and knocked on the screen door at the back of the hospital. “Mrs. Townsend?” he called.
A woman come to the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes?” she said through the screen door.
“I brung you some vegetables,” said Junior. He pointed to the back of the truck, and when she looked to where he was pointing, I run two trees closer. I was real close now.
Mrs. Townsend pushed the door open and followed Junior down the steps and to the truck. “Did you grow these?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, I did,” said Junior. I decided I was gonna choke him when I got the chance. I stepped out from behind that tree.
“Actually, I grew the potatoes and the sweet corn,” I said. “It ain’t enough for the patients, but maybe it will do for your kitchen help.” I was still debating how I was gonna tell her my momma worked in her kitchen.
But then I didn’t have to after all. I heard my momma’s voice behind me. “Ann Fay?” I could hear how shocked and happy she was to see me. “How did you get here?”
The next thing I knew, my momma was clinging to me, tight as a chigger.
11
Pete
August 1944
At first I just hung on to my momma and leaned into her softness. She smelled like cooked greens and bacon. I buried my face against her and said, “I brought you some corn on the cob and tomatoes.”
“Oh, honey,” Momma breathed into my ear. “I can’t believe they let you in.”
“I just had to see you and Bobby.”
Something changed in Momma when I said that about Bobby. She let out a little cry that put me in mind of Pete whenever one of us stepped on his foot by accident. And I felt her arms go real tight around me like one of them clamps Daddy uses to glue two pieces of wood together.
“Mrs. Honeycutt, is this your child?”
I turned around and seen it was that cook, Mrs. Townsend. Before Momma could answer, I heard a squealing, “Momma! Momma!” And the next thing I knew, Ida and Ellie was throwing themselves at her legs. They almost knocked her over and me too.
Momma was so startled she began to cry. I didn’t know whether to fuss at Ida and Ellie for not listening or be glad for my momma that they was there.
But to tell the truth, I don’t think Momma had more than two seconds to be glad any of us was there. All of a sudden people was coming from every which way, and my poor momma was standing there all red-faced with three young’uns hanging on to her.
“What’s going on?” demanded a man in a uniform. He turned to Junior.
Junior threw up his hands. “I just brung some vegetables to the cook,” he said. “I didn’t bring these girls in. Honest to God!”
“We brought ourselves!” I said. “We wanted to see our momma and maybe wave to our brother. He’s inside.”
“No visitors allowed,” said the guard. “You have to leave.”
“Oh, please, sir,” I heard my momma say. “Just let them stay a few minutes.” She was hanging on to every one of us and dropping kisses on our heads like we was all she had in the world. Her fingers was digging into my arm.
That’s when I got the same feeling I had at the train station that day. About our family and how it seemed like we was breaking apart. Her hugging me so desperate was giving me that bad feeling.
The guard took ahold of my arm. “It’s not safe for any of you to be here,” he said. “You have to leave.”
I didn’t argue with him. Suddenly I wanted to leave. I wanted to get away from Momma.
But Ida and Ellie latched on to Momma like a tick on our dog, Pete.
I grabbed both of them. “Stop making a scene. You don’t wanna get Momma in trouble, do you?”
They wasn’t paying no attention to me. “Help me, Junior,” I called.
Junior come and unwrapped Ida’s arms from Momma’s legs, and by the time I had Ellie loose, he had the truck door open and was shoving Ida inside. I carried Ellie kicking and screaming and pushed her in too. Then I climbed in and pulled the door shut quick before they could climb back out. We was all in a sweating, squirming heap when Junior climbed in the other side, cranked up the truck, and shoved it into gear.
I got a
last look at Momma just before we went around the corner of the building. She was standing there with her mouth open, wiping loose hairs away from her face and looking like she had got a visitation from an angel.
Junior was driving fast—too fast for the hospital grounds—and there was plenty of people running out to see what was going on. All of a sudden he hit the brakes hard and I seen that a little black dog had run across the road right in front of him.
It took me a second to realize it was our dog. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I never thought I’d see that dog again. “Pete! It’s Pete!” I hollered. “Stop and get him, Junior. Let’s take him home.”
But Junior wasn’t stopping for nobody—not even the policeman that stopped him on the way in. The policeman’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he seen us girls in that truck with Junior. It was a crazy, scrambled ride. The girls was crying and we was all smushed up against each other, me sitting half on top of both of them.
I hung on to the dashboard till we were out of the road that led to the hospital. “Junior,” I said, “you were right about Pete. He followed Bobby to the hospital. Did you hear me, girls? Pete ain’t dead. He’s back there watching over Bobby.”
It felt good to hear myself say it. I just knew Bobby would get better with Pete there being his guardian angel.
All of a sudden I felt good—like I had climbed a mountain. I had actually got to see Momma and take her some corn and tomatoes. I knew I should fuss at Ida and Ellie for not staying put in them weeds like I told them to, but instead I felt like celebrating. So I said, “Junior, take us to the lake.”
“I’m taking you straight home and don’t say a word about it,” said Junior. He kept glancing in his mirror like he thought the town of Hickory was fixing to send the police after him.
When we got home, I used the last of our sugar to make a cake for the twins. Then I took some old copies of the Hickory Daily Record and the cake out to the corncrib. We set up some sweet-potato crates for tables and chairs and had us a regular playhouse. Ida and Ellie ate the cake while I read the paper to them.
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