Rachel's Prayer

by Leisha Kelly

  I was so hopeful. I wasn’t feeling the heavy weight that I’d been feeling before. I was just sure everything was going to be all right.

  But the next week changed everything. January twelfth my parents got notification that Robert had been wounded. That was hard enough, but it had happened almost two months ago, and we didn’t even know. He’d been put on a hospital ship that was docked in Hawaii now. And they said he’d have to stay in Hawaii until he was well enough to be moved to the continental states.

  Mom tried not to, but she cried. I know it was hard, thinking of Robert two months hurt with none of us by his side. If there’d been any way, she’d have taken off for Hawaii that very afternoon. But there was no way. I cried too. I prayed and prayed that he’d be able to travel real, real soon. That it wasn’t so bad and he’d be home.

  But we didn’t even know how bad. I guess that was the hardest thing. Two weeks passed before we had any more details. Dad had gotten a man from the war department to help him get in contact with the hospital in Hawaii, and he found out that Robert had four bullet wounds across his back and one leg. It would be a while before they’d be able to move him again. Dad came home that day looking like I’d never seen him look, ever. It scared me. It scared Mom. He told us everything he knew, and Mom and Dad hugged each other for a very long time, and then they both got on their knees and prayed.

  That night Rachel came to our house. She cried, and we hugged her, and she cried some more. She said she’d sell everything she had to get to Hawaii, and Dad told her he felt the same way, but so far nobody could go. The very same day Eugene Turrey came looking for Rorey in the drugstore to tell her that Lester had been wounded too.

  It felt like the whole world was coming to pieces. All of my fears about Joe were back again, plus heaps of extra fears for Robert. Rorey was so frazzled she couldn’t hardly work. They hadn’t been able to find out anything about how Lester was doing.

  I worried terrible. So many things could go wrong if someone was shot in the back. So many vital parts were packed inside us there. I almost got mad at God because we’d been praying all along. But Mom reminded me that the Bible says “many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.”

  “I don’t understand it,” I told her. “Robert was getting closer to God. Why didn’t God protect him?”

  “I’m sure he did,” Mom answered me. “I’m sure he’s with him. But, honey, it’s a sinful world. Painful things happen.”

  I felt bad to be talking to her about it. I knew she was hurting too. But I couldn’t quite let it go. “But, Mom, it shouldn’t be like that.”

  “It won’t always be. One day he’ll set things in order with his coming. There may be no way to understand it all until then, but God promises to bring us out of every affliction and trial. He’s with us, and he makes us stronger.”

  I could see the tears in her eyes even while she was trying to encourage me. And I knew God was making my mother strong. I didn’t think I could ever handle something like this so well as she was handling it. She cried, sure. At the strangest times. Stirring a supper pot or fixing a steam treatment for Berty’s awful cold, she might suddenly be wiping away tears. But she was strong enough to help all of us and not get mad at God even one little bit. So I didn’t let myself get mad at God either.

  But it was hard to pray. It was hard to put together any words at all except “Heal my brother. Bring him home.” So I kept praying that. But it seemed like there ought to be something more. I prayed for Joe and Kirk and Willy, of course. I prayed for Lester. But besides that, I couldn’t seem to manage anything else. So I pulled out one of Robert’s old letters, and I prayed Rachel’s prayer again, over and over.

  God give us peace in this time of being apart. Make us stronger . . .

  Rachel came over a lot now, hoping we’d heard more word about Robert. But usually we didn’t have anything new to tell her. She started sewing him a shirt. And knitting socks. And a wool hat. All presents for when he came home.

  She and Katie and I got really close, and I kept trying to include Rorey, but she would pull away from us half the time and go to see the Turreys.

  I kept hoping in that time that Willy would write to us and give us details, if he knew them, about what had happened. But Willy didn’t write. I guessed he was just used to Robert adding in messages for him at the bottom of his own letters. He’d almost never written anybody. And then I thought how awful William must feel about Robert and Lester. So I wrote to him, hoping it would help him feel better. I included the best assurances I could that they’d surely be all right.

  I mailed that letter on January twenty-eighth. The next day, Mr. Hammond got a letter saying that William had been wounded in action. Apparently it had happened the same day as Robert. The letters were even dated the same. No one knew why Mr. Hammond’s letter had taken so much longer getting to him.

  He didn’t take the news like my mother had taken the news about Robert. The day the letter came, Mom had sent me over to the Hammonds’ with chicken soup for Berty because he was still home from school not feeling very well. I’d been crunching through the sparkly frozen timber, walking fast because of the cold, with my mind lost in my thoughts. But I heard yelling when I got close to the Hammonds’ house, and I knew something was wrong.

  Frank and his pa were outside when I got close. They were both upset, especially Mr. Hammond. He was screaming at Frank, words that didn’t make real sense to me yet.

  “I tol’ you an’ Lizbeth this was gonna happen! God’s punishin’ me for somethin’! He’s gonna take every one of ’em!”

  “No, Pa,” Frank was trying to calm him. “Maybe it’s not so bad. And Willy’s strong as an ox. He’ll be okay. This prob’ly just means he’ll be home quicker’n we thought.”

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know nothin’!”

  Mr. Hammond started moving quickly for the barn, and Frank got in his way. “Pa, don’t ride off. Please. It ain’t gonna help things.”

  “You know somethin’ that will? Huh, boy? You gonna tell me some Bible words that’ll do me any good right now?” He tried to go around him, but Frank just got in his way again.

  “I could tell you words,” Frank tried to tell his pa. “About love and protection. About God bein’ with ’em in time of trouble. They’d be comfort if you’d hear it—”

  “Get out a’ my way!”

  “Pa—”

  Before Frank could say anything more, his father grabbed him by the arm and shoved him so hard he very nearly lost his balance. I was so startled I almost dropped the soup. The warm pot jostled against my coat, and it was all I could do not to lose the whole thing on the ground.

  Frank saw me. With a quick wave of his hand he told me not to come any closer. His father was moving fast, already to the barn door and shoving it open.

  “What do you think it’s gonna solve, Pa, you goin’ to get drunk again?” I could hear Frank trying to reason. “Harry and Emmie are gonna be home pretty soon. Rorey too, and when they hear this they’re gonna worry. Berty’s already worryin’, and we ought to be in the house showing him somethin’ solid instead a’ this!”

  “Shut up!” his father yelled back. “Just shut up an’ leave me alone! You wanna be solid, you go be solid, Mr. Wise-mouth. Tell ’em all the Bible words you want to.” The next thing I knew, Mr. Hammond was riding out of the barn on their horse Star, and Frank was standing there helpless. I don’t know if Mr. Hammond saw me at all. He didn’t act like he did. He just rode off into the trees without looking back.

  I turned my attention to Frank. He looked so sad, so defeated, that I didn’t know what to say.

  “He’s gonna be plastered drunk before suppertime,” Frank told me. “Lord knows what he’ll do after that.”

  “He’ll just come home, won’t he?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I think he’s right that I don’t know nothin’ no more.”

  I’d never heard Frank talk
like that, and it bothered me terribly. “Is Willy hurt?”

  He nodded. “Maybe he’s with Robert. I hope so. That’d be some comfort to ’em both, t’ at least be together.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t say anything, just walked up and took the soup pot out of my hands.

  “Are you all right?” I asked him. “Your pa was pretty rough.”

  “I just don’t know what he’ll do, Sarah Jean. And that ain’t helpin’ nothing.”

  He started for the house, and I went with him, wishing I knew something to say to help take the load off his shoulders. “I’m sure Willy will be fine. We’ve all been praying for Robert, but I prayed for Willy too, and I will even more now. He’s strong like you said. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks.” He opened the door and held it for me even though he was still holding Mom’s soup pot. Bert was sitting inside at a kitchen chair, coughing and looking miserable.

  “Pa’s gone, ain’t he?” Bert asked us, and Frank nodded. Bert hung his head. “Why’s he always have to think the worst? An’ then run off an’ drink like a fool?”

  Frank sighed. “Don’t call Pa a fool, Berty. That don’t help nothin’ neither.”

  “You know what I mean! This ain’t so bad as the news about Joe. At least they know where he is! At least he’s prob’ly gonna be all right!”

  “Sarah brought you some soup.” Frank took the pot to the stove and put another chunk or two of wood in the fire. “You keep them thoughts, Bert. That this prob’ly ain’t so bad. That Willy’ll prob’ly be home ’fore long just fine. Emmie an’ Harry’s gonna be home from school, and we don’t need to act like somethin’ real terrible’s goin’ on. No need to get ’em more upset than they oughta be.”

  “But when they know Pa’s took off, they’ll be frettin’,” Bert said with a worried look.

  “Then we don’t wanna say nothin’ to make it worse.”

  I looked at both of them, unable to understand what it must be like to live with a father like George Hammond. They shouldn’t have this kind of weight on them. Frank was barely grown, and Bert was still a kid. Mr. Hammond ought to be here to take care of things. He should be comforting them, instead of leaving them to tell such news to their siblings.

  “I might’ve followed him,” Frank said. “Except it wouldn’t be right to leave you to handle this. Be prayin’ he comes home.”

  He sat down like he was too weary to do anything else, and I wondered if I ought to go straight home and tell my mother the news they’d gotten. But I didn’t feel right about leaving yet. They both looked so glum.

  “Have you been feeling any better, Bert?”

  He looked at me funny, like he thought it was the last thing I ought to be wondering about. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll scoop you some soup in a minute,” I volunteered, moving to stir the pot.

  “Don’t think I want any right now.”

  “Mom said you should. She might even think you ought to be in bed.”

  “I ain’t that sick.”

  I nodded to him. “I’m glad. But the soup’ll do you some good anyhow.”

  He shook his head. “You act just like your mama.”

  I served him some soup before long, and I put some in front of Frank too, but he didn’t touch it. And then I started sweeping because it was something to do, and with Emmie in school and Rorey working, I doubt it got done every day. Bert just sat, still coughing, but Frank got out some leather scrap and started patching a hole in his glove. When he finished that, he started carving on a little piece of walnut wood. Over a bucket, so he wouldn’t get shavings on the sweeped-up floor.

  It wasn’t long at all before I heard sounds outside. Harry came bursting through the door first because he was always moving pretty fast. Emmie came behind, a good deal slower.

  “You picked a good day to miss school,” Harry complained to his younger brother. “Teacher was quizzin’ on just about ever’thin’.”

  “Ah, shoot,” Bert declared. “I didn’t pick. I wouldn’t a’ picked if she was quizzin’ in history.”

  “She was.”

  Bert looked genuinely disappointed, which perplexed Harry to no end. Harry’d always liked baseball, or any other sport, far better than any kind of book learning.

  “I did pretty poor,” Emmie said sadly.

  “Oh, Emmie, I bet you’re the only fifth grader that can make a cheese chiffon cake,” I said, trying to perk her up.

  “That’s true,” she acknowledged. “But Teacher don’t quiz on that.”

  I’d been wondering if staying was the right thing, but when I saw her face I was glad I had. Without Mom or Dad here, it was right that I should be. Because I could at least help Frank talk hopeful words. And they’d need that, sure enough.

  “We got news today,” Frank started kind of slow. “Seems like Willy’s in Hawaii with Robert. He was wounded too, but there’s no reason to think it’s so bad.”

  “Did they say?” Harry asked immediately. “Was he shot?”

  “Don’t know,” Frank said. “But you know Willy. Ain’t never been much of a scrape that could knock him down, nor keep him down any time at all. If he ain’t out a’ the hospital already, he’s prob’ly itchin’ to be.”

  “That’s right,” Bert added, trying to look on the bright side. “He’ll be all right in no time. He may be fine already, seein’ it’s been some time since the letter was sent.”

  “Why don’t he write us then?” Emmie asked.

  “He don’t like to,” Frank told her. “An’ maybe he’s busy bein’ help to Robert. In a way, I’m glad they was both sent to Hawaii, so they ain’t left someplace alone.”

  Emmie teared up suddenly. “But that makes me think of Joe.”

  I went to her quick as I could and hugged her close. I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was let her cling to me and cry a little, and then hope it made her feel better.

  “When can we find out for sure?” Harry asked. “Is Robert an’ Willy gonna be comin’ home together ’fore long, then?”

  Frank set his piece of wood on the table. “I expect we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Well, where’s Pa?” Harry asked then.

  Emmie dried her eyes and looked up at me.

  “You know Pa,” Frank answered more honestly than I expected. “Some news don’t set well with him. He’s gone to town near as I could tell. We’ll have to give him some space when he gets home. He won’t be all hisself.”

  “I don’t get it,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “If he wants to drink, why don’t he just drink? Why does he wait till he thinks he’s got an excuse an’ then let it make him half crazy?”

  Frank drew in a deep breath. “Long time ago, he promised Mama he’d quit his drinkin’. Since then, he’s promised the pastor and Mr. Wortham the same thing because it ain’t doin’ him nothin’ but hurt. I reckon he knows it’s wrong. An’ most days he’s got the strength to turn away from the temptation. But when somethin’ happens, he lets hisself get weak. He gives hisself an excuse, just like you said.”

  Harry looked mad. “You gonna go after him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe now that you’re home I should.” “I think you oughta just let him alone if he’s gonna be that way,” Bert said suddenly, and the bitterness and resolve in his voice surprised me. “Wouldn’t do us no good to have him here anyway. Not till he’s sober.”

  “That’d be the easiest,” Frank agreed. “If I could be assured he’d find his way home.”

  But I knew just looking at Frank that right then he didn’t feel very assured about anything. He got up and got his coat from where he’d hung it on a hook by the door. “If you don’t mind stayin’ till Rorey’s here,” he told me, “I think she’d appreciate it. I sure do. I’m gonna ride in an’ tell Lizbeth and Sam what happened.” He looked at me direct for the first time since I’d gotten there. “Then I’ll go by Buck Fraley’s so if Pa’s there I can encourage him to get hom
e ’fore too late. Thank you for lingering, Sarah Jean.” He turned and started out the door. “Harry, I’d appreciate it if you’d feed the stock an’ start the milkin’.”

  I looked after him for a minute but then turned my attention to his brothers and sister. Bert took another sip of his now-tepid soup broth. Emmie turned from me with a sigh and reached for the potato box. “We always eat early. I guess I’ll get things started.”

  Harry left a short stack of books on the table next to Bert and headed back outside. And my eyes rested on the little chunk of walnut Frank had left behind. It was a tiny, long-robed angel, not near so detailed as some of his work. But its wings stretched out almost like a cross, and its hands were folded together in solemn prayer.

  24

  Frank

  Sam and Lizbeth both appreciated me comin’ to tell them ’bout William. Thelma was real upset, but Lizbeth took the news pretty calm. “He’ll be okay,” she assured me. “We’ve been prayin’. He’ll be okay.”

  Ben offered to go with me to check on Pa. I didn’t think it’d work out very practical since I’d come in all the way to town on Tulip, and he was wantin’ to take me in his car. But he said he’d meet me over there. He just thought I hadn’t ought to be dealin’ with this alone. And Pa was at Fraley’s, all right. Star was outside lookin’ impatient, and Pa was inside sitting at the bar counter. From the looks of him, he had more than one of whatever he was drinkin’ down him.

  “Don’t you s’pose you oughta come home now, Pa?” I asked him.

  He turned and stared for a minute, lookin’ angry. But then he saw Ben behind me. “Sit down. Have a drink,” he told him, choosing to ignore me completely.

  “You know I don’t drink,” Ben told him.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I know that,” Pa said with a disheartened sort of sigh. He turned around again and slumped over the glass in front of him.

  “Pa—” I tried to get his attention.

  “Ah, go home. You ain’t helpin’ nobody.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, tired of arguing with him. “But you ain’t either. Least of all yourself.”