The Waltons 3 - The Easter Story

by Robert Weverka

  “Right now!” Jim-Bob said.

  “Yes,” the others chroused.

  “Let’s take the splints off, Mama?”

  “There’s an old wool blanket in the linen closet,” Mary Ellen said. “Shall we start cuttin’ it up?”

  “Now, hold on a minute,” Grandpa said, “We can start doin’ all them things quick enough. But I reckon your Daddy’ll want to read over them pamphlets first and make sure we’ll be doin’ things just right. And I guess your Mama doesn’t want all of us starin’ at her while she gets them splints taken off. So how about if your Daddy and Grandma stay here and take care of that while the rest of us go down and get things started.”

  John smiled. “Sounds like a good idea, Pa.”

  Elizabeth gave her father a questioning look. “Daddy? What will Dr. Vance say if we take the splints off?”

  “Well, sweetheart, I wouldn’t worry about it. Fact is, I kind of think he had an idea what was goin’ to happen when he left here today.”

  “What’d he say, Daddy?” John-Boy asked.

  “Nothin’ exactly straight out. But at his car he sort of said somethin’ about how medicine wasn’t a real exact science, and sometimes doctors don’t know why some people got cured. But he said he still didn’t believe in miracles.”

  Grandma shook her head. “The poor man. That’s exactly what happens when a person gets all that book-learnin’.”

  Olivia grinned and they all laughed.

  None of them expected any instant improvement in Olivia’s condition. The pamphlets warned against it, suggesting it could be weeks before any signs of recovery became evident. The first step, which they continued for three days, involved only the wrapping of the legs in hot, wet strips of woolen blanket.

  John-Boy’s task was to keep a steady supply of stovewood coming. During the day his father cut logs into foot-long chunks, and when John-Boy got home from school he split these into stove kindling and stacked them close to the back door. Ben and Jim-Bob transferred them to the kitchen, and were responsible for keeping the stove burning for a constant supply of hot water. Grandpa and Mary Ellen dipped the pieces of wool into the large cauldron of boiling water and put them through the wringer of the washing machine. With the damp strips still steaming, Jason and John-Boy quickly carried them upstairs in a wooden tub. There, Grandma, Erin and sometimes John, carefully wrapped the strips around Olivia’s legs, at the same time removing the ones that had cooled. Elizabeth, who had the tenderest skin, tested the strips before they were applied, making certain they were not too hot.

  The treatments did seem to be painful, but Olivia insisted that she could stand it. Rather than a burning sensation, she said there was a deep aching that ran all the way up her spine. But there was no change in the total numbness of her legs.

  While the children were in school, John, Grandpa and Grandma managed to give her two treatments, and then two more lengthier treatments were given in the afternoon and evening.

  In spite of all the activity, Olivia insisted that Jason continue practicing his guitar for the big amateur contest. And Ben managed to sell most of his magazines by calling on two or three people each day after school.

  Surprisingly, it was G. W. Haines who provided Mary Ellen with time to work on her dress. His first reaction to her announcement that she was going to the dance with him was less than enthusiastic.

  “What dance?”

  “The school dance that’s comin’ in two weeks. You asked me to go twice already.”

  “Oh, that dance. But I didn’t think you’d really want to go.”

  “Then why’d you ask me?”

  “Well, I just thought—I mean I thought you’d just like it if I asked you. You never wanted to go to any dances before.”

  “Well, I want to go to this one.”

  “But I’ve never been to a dance before.”

  “Neither have I.”

  G. W. scratched his head and put his hands in and out of his pockets, but couldn’t think of any more arguments. Mary Ellen smiled, everything settled.

  “So I gotta make this dress, and you gotta help me.”

  “I ain’t doin’ no sewin on any dress.”

  “You don’t have to. You just come over here a couple days a week and take my place wringin’ out these hot pieces of wool. That’ll give me time to work on the dress.”

  G. W. was not certain about what he had committed himself to, but on those days he helped with the treatments he was an enthusiastic worker.

  On Wednesday, the day they were scheduled to begin the massage and manipulation of the legs, John-Boy chopped the kindling hurriedly. When he finished, he stacked the pieces by the door, returned the ax to the barn, and then froze as he started back to the house.

  “Well, I’m glad to find someone home. I’ve been knocking on the front door for five minutes.”

  It was Dr. Vance—smiling, standing by the back porch with his bag.

  John-Boy knew his father was upstairs helping with the hot compresses. And the kitchen was in a state of chaos, with the last batch of wool strips being prepared.

  “I reckon nobody heard you, Dr. Vance.”

  “I guess not.” He smiled, waiting for John-Boy to escort him in. “How’s your mother feeling?”

  John-Boy didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t any noticeable improvement in her legs, but her spirits had risen considerably since the splints were taken off. “About the same, I reckon.”

  “Well, do you think she’d like to see me?”

  “Uh—yes. Sure. Come on in.”

  John-Boy escorted him quickly through the kitchen. Grandpa and Jason looked up from their work and gaped for a second, but the doctor only had time to smile and nod at them.

  “I’m not sure if she’s awake or not,” John-Boy said as they reached the top of the stairs. Then his heart dropped.

  Lying on the floor a few feet from his mother’s bedroom door were the old splints the doctor had so carefully put on her legs. Until last night they had been on the floor of the bedroom. Then his mother had asked that they be taken out, saying they depressed her every time she looked at them.

  John-Boy tried to keep himself between the doctor and the splints as he stopped at the door.

  “I’ll just knock. I think Daddy might be in there.”

  “Fine.”

  “Daddy,” John-Boy said as the door opened, “Dr. Vance is here.”

  His father stiffened. But he quickly smiled when he saw the doctor. “Come in, Doc. How are you?”

  His father seemed to take the whole thing in stride, and his mother was smiling calmly from her bed.

  “We’ve started the Kenny treatment, Doc, but so far we’ve only been doin’ the hot compresses. We figured we’d start the massagin’ this afternoon.”

  John-Boy couldn’t help admiring his father’s airy manner. From the way he made the announcement, it might have been a procedure prescribed by Dr. Vance himself. The doctor’s cheerful smile faded a little. But if he had any feelings of anger he successfully hid them.

  “I see. And how are you feeling, Mrs. Walton?” He glanced at the wooden tub and the disarray of damp woolen strips.

  “I think I might have a little feelin’ in my legs, Dr. Vance. At least I seem to have a feelin’ that they’re there now.”

  “That sounds encouraging.”

  “I can’t wait to get started with the massagin’.”

  Dr. Vance nodded and eased himself slowly into a chair. “I suppose there’s no point in my telling you again about all the risks you’re taking. I honestly don’t think this is going to work, Mrs. Walton. And I think you should get those splints back on as quickly as possible.” He sighed heavily. “However, I talked to Dr. Pierce again. I thought—I mean, on the chance you might go ahead with this, I asked him how he might proceed with such a treatment. Purely on a hypothetical basis, of course. He suggested that he would use a great deal of what they call a ‘sleeve massage.’ That is, in addition to a general massa
ging of the muscles, you work down the legs as if you were forcing all the blood to the toe. Then you work back up to the thigh in the same manner.”

  They all stared at him. John finally smiled. “We’ll do that, Doc.”

  “You understand, of course, that I don’t approve of this at all.” He shook his head and rose, still holding his bag. “As long as you’re feeling all right, I guess there’s no point in my examining you, Mrs. Walton. I would advise, however, that you don’t overdo these treatments so much you don’t get enough rest. The body is still its own best healer. For that you need rest and sleep.”

  “We’ll be careful,” John said.

  The doctor appeared ill at ease, as if not sure what else to say. He finally turned for the door. “Well, I’ll be back to see you. And if you have any complications be sure and call.”

  “Dr. Vance?” Olivia said.

  He paused at the door.

  “Thank you very much.”

  A grin suddenly came to his face, but he waved and turned quickly away. “You’re all busy—I’ll see myself out.”

  There were a number of visitors during the week. But most of them came while John-Boy and the rest of the children were in school. The only evidence of their calls were delicious casseroles and desserts, along with fresh cut flowers or small gifts in their mother’s room.

  But the Baldwin sisters came late in the afternoon. John-Boy, Ben, and Jason were stacking wood when they heard the big Franklin car come grinding around the side of the house. It was going far too fast, and they all gasped as it swerved, narrowly missing the truck, and then came to a sliding stop with Miss Emily smiling happily from behind the wheel.

  “Hello, John-Boy, Jason. And Benjamin! Oh, we’re happy to see you’re here.”

  Miss Mamie got out from the other side. “You didn’t tell anybody about our secret, did you, Benjamin?”

  Ben had completely forgotten about the Baldwin sisters’ secret gift for his mother. “No, ma’am, I didn’t tell a soul.”

  Miss Mamie was out of the car too. “I told you he wouldn’t tell, sister. And Ben, we just can’t say how much we’ve enjoyed all our magazines.”

  “Read every word, and just loved them.”

  Ben nodded. “I reckon the next issues’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I just can’t wait! But right now we’ve got just the most excitin’ news. Our surprise for your mother, came just today, and we’ve just come from pickin’ it up at Mr. Godsey’s store!”

  “I know she’s just goin’ to love it,” Miss Emily bubbled. “And you big strong boys can help us carry it in. We’ve got it right here in the trunk of the car.”

  John-Boy smiled and they all moved to the back of the car. He couldn’t imagine what could be so big it would require all three of them to carry it in. When they opened the trunk and he saw it, John-Boy paled. Beside him, both Ben and Jason stopped short and stared.

  It was a wheelchair.

  “Isn’t it lovely?” Miss Emily exclaimed. “It’s the very finest they had in the whole catalogue.”

  “We got the catalogue from the Richmond Surgical Supply Company,” Miss Emily added. “Dr. Vance assured us it is a most reliable establishment.”

  John-Boy didn’t know what to say. His brothers looked as sick as he felt.

  “Dr. Vance?” he murmured.

  “Oh, yes. We talked to him the minute we heard about your poor mother’s affliction.”

  The statement relieved John-Boy a little. At least Dr, Vance had recommended it before his last visit. But he wondered about his mother’s reaction. “Ben, maybe you—uh, ought to go get Grandpa to help us.”

  “Grandpa?”

  John-Boy gave him a pleading look. “Yeah. I think he’s in the kitchen.” It was not Grandpa he wanted, but someone to warn everybody in the house about what was coming.

  Ben blinked at him and finally understood. “Oh, yeah, Grandpa. Yeah, I’ll get him.”

  The Baldwin sisters went on about all the special features of the wheelchair, and John-Boy took his time untying the cord that was securing it in the car’s trunk.

  “It sure looks nice,” he said. “Jason, you want to get that side of it?”

  It was a collapsible model, much like the one Dr. Miller had used. Jason still seemed to be in a state of shock, but they got the thing out. They had it open when Grandpa finally came.

  Apparently Ben had passed on the news. Grandpa displayed no surprise, grinning all the way from the door.

  “Well, well, well, what a pleasant surprise, havin’ two lovely ladies come a-visitin’. And look at that! Isn’t that somethin’! Why, I don’t think I ever saw such a beautiful wheelchair in all my life!”

  “Isn’t it, though,” Miss Emily agreed. “Why it just makes you want to sit down in it and never take another step for the rest of your life!”

  “Emily!” Miss Mamie gasped, “that’s just a terrible thing to say. Don’t you dare say such a thing to poor Mrs. Walton.”

  Miss Emily looked hurt. “I just meant—I’m terribly sorry if—did I say the wrong thing, Mr. Walton?”

  “Of course you did!” Miss Mamie exclaimed.

  Grandpa brushed it aside. “All with the best of intentions, Miss Emily. Don’t give it another thought.”

  Miss Emily gave her sister a haughty look and smiled at Grandpa. “Thank you, Mr. Walton.”

  “Now, let’s get this on into the kitchen, ladies. I sent Ben upstairs to see if Livvy’s awake.”

  “I do hope she’s not sleepin’,” Miss Emily sighed, “I’m just dyin’ to see the look on her face when she sees it.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s sleepin’,” Jason mumbled.

  Because of their “recipe” making activities, and their infrequent appearances in church, Grandma had never been too fond of the Baldwin sisters. It was her belief that their not having husbands was a deprivation clearly arranged by the Lord himself. But she managed a smile when they came in the kitchen.

  “How nice to see you, ladies. And isn’t that a nice gift for Olivia.”

  Her icy tone was lost on the ladies. “Oh, we’re so happy you like it, Mrs. Walton,” Miss Mamie gushed.

  “We think Mrs. Walton’ll just be thrilled,” Miss Emily added.

  “I’m sure.”

  Ben arrived with a wooden smile. “Mama’s awake and said she would like to see you ladies very much.”

  “You didn’t tell her about our surprise, did you, Benajmin?”

  Ben glanced at Grandpa who was holding a steady smile. “Uh—no. She’s real anxious to see you. She’s real glad you came.”

  “Isn’t that sweet, Emily? I declare we really should come a-callin’ more often. And you should call on us some time, Mrs. Walton.”

  Grandma nodded, her tolerance fading.

  “Well, I reckon we can go on up,” Grandpa said and pushed the wheelchair forward.

  “I do wish we had gotten a big ribbon for it,” Miss Emily sighed.

  John-Boy couldn’t help admiring the self control his mother displayed. After her determined resolve to get back on her feet, and all the painful effort she had committed herself to, the presentation of a wheelchair must have been a bitter experience. It was like a prizefighter being presented with the loser’s trophy just before the fight began. It made John-Boy wish the treatments of the last week had shown some evidence of progress.

  John-Boy’s father greeted the ladies warmly. Standing by the head of the bed, Erin smiled, and Olivia even managed to show some surprise when the chrome and leather chair was wheeled in.

  “I just don’t know how you’re goin’ to get down the stairs,” Miss Mamie said after they were seated. “But I’m sure these strong Walton men can carry you down to the wheelchair.”

  “Yes,” Olivia smiled.

  “And sister, isn’t it just wonderful how Mrs. Walton is acceptin’ her misfortune? Why, I declare, most people would just be feelin’ so sorry for themselves! But here she is just makin’ the best of everythin�
�, just as happy and cheerful as can be.”

  “I was just readin’ yesterday in one of those magazines your Benjamin was so kind to let us purchase, that handicapped people in Des Moines, Iowa, do the most wonderful handicraft work. Was it Des Moines, Mamie?”

  “I believe it was Davenport, sister.”

  “Well, no matter. They make baskets and the most lovely little potholders. And just imagine all the knittin’ you can do, Mrs. Walton. Why, I declare, the whole Walton family can have the nicest new sweaters and stockin’s!”

  John-Boy looked anxiously at his mother. The smile was still fixed on her face, but her eyes seemed to have dulled. He didn’t guess she could take a whole lot more of this.

  “ ‘God’s ways seem dark,’ ” Miss Mamie quoted with a sigh, “ ‘but soon or late, They touch the shinin’ hills of day.’ ”

  “That’s beautiful,” Olivia said.

  “Mr. John Greenleaf Whittier. One of our most neglected poets. He’s one of our favorites.”

  They all nodded. John finally cleared his throat. “Ladies, it was real nice of you to come a-callin’. I reckon it’s about time for Livvy’s rest now.”

  They quickly rose. “Yes, and we must be goin’.”

  “It was such a pleasure seein’ you, Mrs. Walton. And we do hope you’ll be feelin’ up to usin’ your new wheelchair soon.”

  Olivia mustered a final smile. “Thank you very much for the gift. It was very thoughtful of you. You’re the best possible friends and neighbors.”

  Grandpa saw them out.

  Until they heard the door close and the Baldwins’ car finally start up, everyone in the bedroom sat in glum, reflective silence. Then John-Boy watched his mother as she gazed at the glistening wheelchair. It was the fate Dr. Vance had predicted for her, and the one she was no doubt wondering about right now.

  “They meant well, Livvy,” John finally said.

  She nodded. “They’re really very sweet old ladies.” She struggled to sit up straighter in the bed. “It’s all right,” she said and gave a short laugh. “But I do wish somebody would get that silly thing out of here.” Her smile suddenly became an amused grin. “Put it with the splints.”