by Leisha Kelly
Sam was holding on to Franky. The little kid was lying in the back of that wagon on a pile of blankets, hugging on his brother for dear life. He was hurting awfully bad. You could tell it in his face. And no wonder, after a bumpy wagon ride with a broken leg.
“Why did you bring him?” Juli gasped. “Why didn’t you stay at the hospital?”
“Pa insisted.” Sam spit out the words like they were bitter on his tongue. “He argued up an’ down with the nurses that we couldn’t pay, an’ that Franky could sit just as well in bed at home. I tried to tell him it’d be awful hard, but he wouldn’t listen—”
“Well, where is he?” Juli asked, understandably confused. “He didn’t come with you?”
“He stopped at the house,” young Sam explained, looking mad enough to chew nails. “Joe helped me from there, ’cause I didn’t want Franky back here alone.”
I climbed in the bed of the wagon, and Franky latched hold of my neck. “I’m okay,” he told me. “I’m okay.”
But I didn’t believe him.
“Did George tell you to bring him here?” I asked the boys.
“Yes, sir,” Sam answered. “He said Mrs. Wortham’d know doctorin’ better’n him or Lizbeth, ’cause a’ learnin’ it from Emma an’ all. Lizbeth was sure upset. She’ll prob’ly be by here later, but Emmie was wet an’ Berty was screamin’ at her from the outhouse an’ Pa said for us to go on. I ain’t never seen her so mad. An’ I don’t blame her. Not one lick. Franky oughta been able to stay in hospital a while longer, ’least till he was fit for travelin’. It weren’t right. Look at him.”
“I’m okay,” Franky told us again.
“Put him on our bed,” Juli told me. “I’ll draw fresh water for some cold cloths.”
Gently as I could, I lifted the little boy from the wagon. He seemed even lighter than he had before, despite the plaster cast on his leg. What was George thinking? We could have found some way to pay. However long it took.
“Where was the pastor?” I asked. “What did he say about this?”
“He wasn’t there,” Sam said gravely. “Pa said Herman Meyer come this morning to fetch him. Miss Hazel was mighty bad sick, the way he tol’ it.”
Juli turned to me in shock, her face going pale. But she hurried away from us anyway, to the well after that fresh water.
I set Franky on our bed, and he lay over on his side, still trying hard not to cry.
“I had a broken arm once,” I told him. “Feels awful for a while. But it’ll heal up in time. Good as new.”
“I don’t wanna go back to the hospital,” he said. “Pa didn’t want me there.”
“I know. And I don’t want to move you again. But I’m going to send your brothers after the doctor.”
“Pa won’t like that.”
“This is not his house. That’s a decision he made, whatever his reason.”
“You ain’t mad at him, are you?” He looked up at me with his silver-gray eyes tainted with pain.
“I’m not sure what to think.”
“He asked me if I wanted to go home.”
“That’s not the kind of decision for a child to make.”
Juli rushed in with a bowl of water and two or three clean cloths. She put one on Franky’s head and plumped his pillow. Then she turned her attention cautiously to his leg. Sarah, Rorey, and Katie snuck behind her into the doorway.
“Is he okay?” Sarah asked.
“He’s still hurt bad,” Rorey surmised.
Katie didn’t say anything at all, just stood there looking solemn.
“Girls, go on out,” Juli told them. “I’m going to have to sit with Franky a while.”
“I’m okay,” Franky valiantly told us again.
“Yes,” Juli told him. “You are. At least you’re going to be. It’s your father I wonder about, what’s gotten into his fool head—”
“Juli—”
She turned to me with a gentle fire in her eyes. “You would never do this, Samuel. You would never leave your child for a second, or put him through such an agonizing trip. Where is he now? What’s the matter with him?”
I didn’t have any answer.
“We should pray for Miss Hazel,” Franky said, seeming to have trouble getting the words out. “They said she might not live the night.”
“Did they say what was wrong?” Juli asked tensely.
“No, ma’am,” young Sam offered from behind me. “I’m not for sure that they know.”
Juli sent me for an herb she’d seen growing just outside the cow pasture and soon had water going to steep it in. She was sweating as bad as I was, and Franky maybe worse. I prayed for a cool breeze or something, and not long after that some clouds blew in. Sam and Joe left to fetch the one old doctor who lived closer than the hospital. He’d come if he could, though he was trying to get most folks to go into Mcleansboro or Marion or Mt. Vernon for their care if they could. He wasn’t well himself most of the time now.
It took a while, but eventually Juli got Franky settled down to sleep. She said that was the best thing for him. I wanted to go over and talk to George, ask him why he didn’t come along if he wanted us nursing his son over here. It wasn’t right that he just expect it from us without a doctor’s approval or without consulting us at all. What was so pressing at home that he couldn’t at least come and bring Franky himself?
Lizbeth showed up well before the doctor, hurrying through the timber with Emma Grace on her hip. She was still mad. It was clear from the way she stood, before she ever said a word. She gave the baby to Juli and leaned and kissed her brother, being careful not to wake him up.
“Think it’ll hurt him?” she asked. “Bein’ moved like that?”
“It hurt, no doubt,” Juli said. “But his leg ought to be all right, set the way it is. The doctor should be able to tell us for sure.”
I went and sat outside. The day’s work had definitely been interrupted, and I didn’t feel like getting back to it. Sarah came and sat beside me, and then Katie sat beside her. Robert approached me too, but he didn’t sit.
“Franky’s gonna stay too, isn’t he, Dad?” he asked.
“I don’t know. At least for a while. We have to see what the doctor says. And what his pa is thinking.”
“Why’d Mr. Hammond send Franky over here when it hurt him so bad?”
“I guess he thought he knew best. Wanting Franky home, and not being able to pay for him to stay in the hospital.”
“But Franky ain’t home, Dad. He’s here.”
“I know.”
“His pa don’t like him.”
“That’s pretty harsh, Robert.”
“I don’t think so. Willy told me one time that Mr. Hammond said Franky oughta quit actin’ so all-fired smart if he’s gonna play stupid at school. He can’t have it both ways, an’ it ain’t right, you and Mom likin’ him more than the rest.”
“That’s not so.”
“Well, Willy thinks it’s so. You spend more time with him than the rest.”
“That’s because he’s usually the only one who wants to work in my woodshop. Except you.”
“I know, Dad. I’m just tellin’ you what they said.” He sighed. “I’ll do the milkin’ tonight. You got other stuff to see to.”
“Thank you, Robert. That’s thoughtful.”
He only nodded as he walked away. I almost went with him, thinking I owed him the explanation about Katie that I’d promised.
But Sarah took my hand with a worried look in her eyes. “Katie said she might be your real sister. But that means she’s Uncle Edward’s sister too. Do you think he could come and take her away?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure.”
She perked up immediately. “Okay.” She turned sparkling eyes to Katie. “Let’s go pick flowers. We can give some to Mom and Lizbeth, and Franky too, when he wakes up.”
I watched them skip away across the yard, holding hands like they were meant to be togethe
r. Rorey joined them reluctantly at the apple tree, Sarah grabbing for her hand too. They danced around a while and then started picking the dayflowers springing up along the fence. I sighed, looking out over this farm of ours. I’d taken on an awful lot, and it seemed like I kept taking on more. But I had a good feeling inside about it, not a bad one. Even about Franky. Maybe it was for the best, him being over here for a while, even if his father and at least one brother felt the way they did. At least there was peace for Franky here.
Then I wondered about Hazel for a minute. She was so old. And cantankerous. She was a feature in that church for so many years, but was she truly saved? She was so prickly to be around that it was hard to know about something like that. But Pastor would know. If he was with her right now, he would try to make sure.
I thought of Edward when he was a kid, when he was throwing bottles at the brick walls of a church, and I wondered if he’d ever find it in his heart to call on God. It was what he needed, surely. I was glad Juli had told him God loved him. I wasn’t sure I could have right then. Even now, if I saw him coming up the lane again, I wasn’t sure how I’d react. It would depend an awful lot on what he did next.
I sat and I prayed, feeling like it was the most important thing I could do. I prayed for Miss Hazel, for Edward and my mother, Franky, Juli, and Katie. I prayed for all of us, that God would provide, and for myself, that he would grant me the wisdom I needed.
This had not been a normal day after all, and I had a feeling it wasn’t near done. If Hazel Sharpe really was dying, I knew Juli would want to say good-bye, regardless of the way Hazel had treated us. And I’d have Edward to face again, I knew, somehow. He hadn’t gone back East. Not yet.
And there was Franky to care for, Katie to raise and love. Thank heaven Robert and Sarah were willing to understand.
There was so much work to be done here before the winter came again. But Emma had known we’d belong. God bless her generosity. God grant me the faith and the goodness she had.
I thought of something she’d told me once, that George and I were called to be like brothers. That being the case, I was going to have to face George, for Franky’s sake. It wasn’t right, like young Sam had said. And if I seemed to like Franky more, maybe it was because all along I’d been able to see the need in him. That little boy longed for his pa, reached for him every time he got the chance, but I’d never seen George hug him or hold him the way he did the youngest boys or speak to him with the respect he’d started showing the older ones. Franky had gotten caught in the middle. Pushed away and left out. So he came to me because he was hungry, pure and simple. I’d have to make George see.
A jay called in the tree nearest the house. Sarah and Katie snuck past some bushes in my direction. I rose to my feet just as they darted the rest of the distance between us. Together they presented me with a most delicate little bundle of dayflowers and violets.
“I thought these were for Mom and Franky,” I told them.
“We’ll get them some,” Sarah promised.
“But these are for you,” Katie finished, both of them smiling broadly.
They flitted away like butterflies. And I smiled too, standing there with flowers in my hand.
TWENTY - THREE
Julia
The doctor got there before we expected him to. His son drove him, and I thanked God for that small favor, because I’d started to worry, Franky was feeling so warm. But Doctor Howell assured me the fever wasn’t large and that I should keep him uncovered and keep bathing him with the cool water.
The doctor was fairly confident about the leg too. “If Emory Hall says it’s set, then it’s set,” he told me of the Mcleansboro doctor. “He wouldn’t a’ plastered it otherwise. Just keep him off it. And don’t let nobody be jostlin’ him till he’s feeling stronger.”
I promised we wouldn’t. I promised to do everything just exactly the way he said. And even though Lizbeth was sitting right there, he told me plain out that it was good Franky was with us because he had no confidence his instructions would be followed “over at the house.”
Then he wrote out for me some suggestions and approved of my doctoring herbs. He promised he’d look in on us again in a few days if he could. Franky woke up just a little to talk to him, and the doctor seemed encouraged that he was sounding as good as he was.
“I was just over to see Hazel Sharpe,” he said as he was closing his bag. “My wife sent those Hammond boys over there to find me. I’ll be going back, and Herman and his wife asked if I could do them the favor of bringing you along.”
“Bringing me?”
“Seems Miss Hazel was asking for you before I got there. Wasn’t much of what she said I could make out.”
“How is she? What’s wrong?”
“Well, she fell. But I fear it’s the apoplexy, and there’s nothing much I can do for that. I told them that, but she won’t go to the hospital. She shook her head plain enough. I’ll check in on her, but she’s in the Lord’s hands.”
My heart was pounding just thinking about it. I didn’t really want to go. “But, Doctor, with Franky here . . .”
“Only for a little while. I’m sure Herman will bring you home tonight. Lizbeth and Samuel oughta be able to manage. Herman pretty well begged me, taking it as a blessing almost that I was called out to your place. Miss Hazel’s not got long for this world. You ought to come.”
I didn’t want to leave Franky and Katie and the rest. But Samuel insisted that I should go, and Lizbeth assured me she had heard every word the doctor said. They would manage just fine while I was gone.
So I went. With butterflies scurrying around in my stomach and a thousand memories of snippety Hazel whirling in my head. Not long for this world. And calling for me? I tried to pray but wasn’t sure how.
Herman must have loved his aunt. Bless him for that. God bless him for all his patience. There ought to be some kind of prize.
Herman and his wife and one of his brothers all met the doctor and me at the door.
“Auntie’s right this way,” Herman said, ushering me straight for her bedroom. I’d never been inside her house before, but it was just like I might have imagined. I would be afraid to let any of the kids inside for fear they’d move something out of place.
Herman slowed his pace to her bed. And the rest, even the doctor, stayed behind me.
She seemed so different. Shriveled, almost. Pastor was sitting in a chair, looking exhausted. God bless him too.
“I brung Mrs. Wortham,” Herman was saying.
Hazel’s eyes opened slowly and started shifting to and fro, searching the room. I came closer and took her hand. Finally, her eyes rested on me; I almost expected to see the same scorn I’d seen there so often. But it wasn’t there. Instead I saw fear. Dark and deep. Something I’d never expected to find in Miss Hazel.
“So sorry you’re ailing,” I told her, not sure how else to begin.
She opened her mouth. At first I couldn’t tell what she was saying, but then I made out the one word, pray.
“Pastor,” I said quickly. “She wants—”
Hazel shook her head, frowning. “You,” she said with obvious effort.
“You want me to pray for you?” My hands started shaking. My knees felt weak. Why in the world? Why would she want my prayers?
I obliged her as best I could, praying for the Lord to touch her body and give her heart and mind peace.
She stared up at me for the longest time. A tiny tear slid down one of the deep crevices by her eye and slowly traced a path to her ear. She said something, but it was so low I couldn’t make out the words.
“Thank you again, Miss Hazel,” I said. “For all you’ve done.” I began to think what our church would be like without her presence. She was fading just as the doctor had said. I could see it. I already knew we would be without our piano player next Sunday, without her fussy hats and snippety tongue.
She was shaking her head at me, frowning, and I wondered what on earth I’d done to upset
her now. She tried to lift one hand, and when she couldn’t, she just squeezed at my hand weakly with the other one.
“N-no,” she managed to say. “All . . . you’ve . . . done . . .”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Hats,” she said.
I didn’t understand.
“What about hats?” Herman asked. “What do you mean, Aunt Hazel?”
“Hats,” she said again, pulling her hand away just enough to point at my chest.
“You want her to have your hats?” Herman asked, every bit as surprised as I was.
Hazel nodded, just a tiny bit, and said another word we could hardly make out. Hammonds, I thought. Herman thought so too.
“What about the Hammonds?” Herman asked. But we couldn’t make out the rest of her words, and soon Hazel closed her eyes. She grasped at my hand again and held it, but I could feel her grip going weak. Herman’s wife, Viola, hurried the doctor up to the bedside, but he shook his head, said she was sleeping and there was nothing he could do. Pastor stood and led us in prayer.
Hazel didn’t open her eyes again. She didn’t wake up. Less than an hour later, she was gone to meet the Lord.
I scarcely knew how to react.
Coming home that night was strange, and I couldn’t help thinking of the way Emma died. In Wilametta’s rocking chair, waiting for a psalm and a cup of apple mint tea.
The house was dark and silent. I expected everyone to be asleep on the floor again, probably, though maybe some had gone upstairs. In the kitchen I lit a candle and was just turning around when Samuel came out of the shadows of the sitting room.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Gone, Sammy.”
He put his arms around me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Of course.” I pulled away, just a little. “How about Franky?”
“He’s sleeping. He’s pretty peaceful. He said he liked it better here than the hospital. Do you want to sit down a minute?”
“No. No, I thought I’d check on him—”
“Lizbeth stayed right in the room with him, and I was just there. He’s doing all right—”
