by Leisha Kelly
I was screaming and Emmie was screaming, and suddenly Robert was grabbing me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dad! Dad! He went in there!”
I let go of Emmie’s hand and tried to get past Robert. I was going to go straight in. I was going to go find Dad, but Robert grabbed me.
“He went in!” I screamed again. “He went in after Bert! He’s in there!”
Robert let go of me. I knew what he was thinking, and when he turned around and started running, I grabbed him.
“No! No!”
He’d have run straight in, just like I would have. He was struggling, and finally he shoved me away from him. But Mr. Hammond grabbed him and knocked him clear to the ground. Emmie squeezed me so tight it hurt, but I didn’t even know when she’d grabbed me again. Willy and Frank and Sam Hammond were all running over by the barn, running around the back side because the crashed-in front was all on fire. Robert broke away from Mr. Hammond and went running over there too.
Right then I thought I was going to die. I thought of Mom at home, and I thought I was going to die. Rorey turned and looked at me, her face like a ghost’s in the crazy light of the fire. I met her eyes for just a minute, the pounding in my head seeming like it could come clear through my skull, but I had to turn away. She wasn’t even helping. She wasn’t doing anything at all. And it was all her fault.
“Here!” Franky started yelling. “Here!”
I leaped and ran, barely aware of leaving Emmie and her father behind me.
Around the back, just past the only barn door still standing, Berty lay on the ground in a crumpled heap. Willy stayed by him, but Robert and Franky and Sam were all inside the doorway, working furiously throwing back splintered boards and pulling at a pair of arms sticking out from what looked like part of the loft that must have fell when the other section came down.
“Daddy!”
I knew they were in danger. Every one of them was in danger. The smoke was awful bad, and the flames were spreading toward them now. Willy moved Berty farther away. But I stood frozen.
Finally they had Dad unpinned. They dragged him out to the grass, and he was so still I thought I’d choke inside.
“Dad!” Robert was shaking him. “Dad!”
“You dumb fool!” Sam Hammond yelled over at Berty. “What’d you go in for?”
Berty just coughed and coughed. He didn’t even try to talk.
Then Daddy coughed too. And I busted apart and cried. I ran up and hugged at him and cried. He was alive. Thank you, God!
“Get off him.” Robert pulled at me. “Get off him, Sarah. He’s bad hurt.”
I sat up, staring down at my father, somehow expecting him to get up and say that Robert was wrong, that he was really fine. But he just lay there, looking gray and black and broken.
I’d blamed Rorey. But I should never have made such a stupid promise. If I’d told on her, if I’d only had the sense to do something about it right away, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe Daddy would be okay.
It was really my fault.
5
Julia
Thelma was frantic not knowing what was taking place at the other farm. I could scarcely keep her in bed. She wanted so badly to get up and go over there, to find out if everybody was okay. I had to tell her two or three times how little sense that made. She shouldn’t be going anywhere.
Little Rosemary was lying there so peaceful, but Georgie was fussy in Katie’s arms so I started singing, trying to calm my own nerves and settle him back toward sleep. Finally Thelma was trying to relax again too.
“I wish I had your faith,” she said.
There wasn’t much I could say to that. So many times I’d wished for more faith. Like Emma Graham had known; she’d been so amazing. Or like Samuel, who’d changed so much since we’d come here. He was a saintly man, true, and all the neighbors knew it. They came to him for help with things, knowing he wouldn’t ever turn them away.
Rosemary still wasn’t sucking much, but she did a little, and went to sleep in her mommy’s arms. Katie took Georgie back upstairs for me. And I made Thelma a cup of shepherd’s purse tea with a little red raspberry mixed in. That would be good for her right now. But I wanted coffee. Strong and black.
I was sitting in the kitchen alone for a minute, just sipping the coffee and thinking, when I finally heard a vehicle coming up the lane. My first feeling was wild relief. Fire must not have been bad for them to have it under control already. I jumped to my feet, expecting my family and Sam Hammond to come straight in the door.
I’d heard the vehicle stopping. But now I was sure I was hearing it move right on again. Who in the world could that have been?
I was on my way to look out when Delores Pratt came bounding in the back door without knocking.
“Julia, honey!” she exclaimed, almost running into me. “Richard just dropped me off. We seen the flames over toward Hammonds’, and he went to see if he could help. God be with ’em! Your men over there? Thelma all right?”
“Yes, they went,” I told her quickly. “Thelma’s fine. Just worried for all the rest. And you’re a grandma again.” She set her bag down on the table with a thump. “Whew! You manage all right?”
“I—I think so.”
“Poor dears. You’re a-worryin’ too.” She took my hand and pulled me into the other room with Thelma. She started in praying out loud for the safety of the whole Hammond family.
And Samuel, I added in my mind, not knowing why. God save my Samuel.
6
Sarah
Robert wanted to put Daddy in the truck right away and start off for the hospital. Sam Hammond brought a couple of blankets from the house almost before I realized he had gone to get them. He said that if they rolled Daddy onto a blanket and then picked him up, blanket and all, it would make the moving easier on him.
I couldn’t stand it. I stood there with my fists tight shut, wishing this was just a dream. When they started moving Dad, rolling him just a little to get the blanket under him, he lifted his arm and got hold of the edge of Robert’s shirt.
“Bert,” he said with a choked kind of voice. And then he started coughing again. He didn’t sound too good, but he was awake, and that made me feel better. I started crying all over again.
“He’s okay, Dad. He got out,” Robert said, still sounding awfully worried.
Daddy pushed Sam Hammond back just a little, trying to sit up. But he moved real slow, and I could tell he was hurting somewhere. Robert could tell too.
“Maybe you hadn’t oughta move, Dad. We’ll get you to the truck.”
“I think I’m all right,” he said, but his voice wasn’t steady enough to convince me. He looked so small. And I was used to Daddy being big and strong.
Suddenly Willy yelled, and we all turned to see him pointing to the house. The embers had kept on flying in that direction with nobody there to do a thing about it. One corner of wood shingle was caught on fire, the thin line of smoke trailing away almost horizontal. Scads more of those dreadful sparks kept landing, making the roof and porch look like gatherings of crazy-shaped fireflies.
Mr. Hammond and Willy and Kirk went running over there. Sam Hammond and Robert and Franky all hesitated, not wanting to leave Daddy and Bert so close to the burning barn. Quick as anything, Sam and Robert had Dad and that blanket up and moved clear over to the back of the truck. Franky brought Bert, half carrying him and struggling because Bert couldn’t seem to hold his weight just right on his left foot and Franky was always dealing with a pretty bad limp himself. Emmie took my hand again and grabbed on to my blouse besides. She was scared and no wonder, the poor little kid.
“Samuel all right?” Mr. Hammond hollered to us.
“Yeah,” Daddy answered him. “I’m all right.”
“Then we need your help over here, boys!” Mr. Hammond hollered again. “Sam! Frank!”
Just about then, somebody I thought looked like Thelma’s brother came driving up to lend a hand
. The roof of the house was a mess. The porch too, with embers everywhere. And now the goat fence was burning, and the pigsty. I wondered if anybody was praying for the wind to stop being so cruel.
“Save the house,” Daddy told Sam and Robert. “Go on.”
They went because he’d ordered them too. But not before Robert insisted I not leave Daddy’s side. He should’ve known I wouldn’t have anyhow.
Franky stood for a minute, looking from Bert to my father. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked either one, or maybe both. Berty nodded, coughing again.
“Go on,” Daddy told him, holding himself up against the truck rail. “Go on.”
Franky went. And I guess it took all of them drawing bucket after bucket out of the well, passing them hand over hand, and then dousing that roof and porch time after time, beating at embers with boots and blankets and bucket after bucket after bucket.
Then Mr. Hammond just stopped. “You can let it go, boys,” he said, sounding weary enough to drop. But they didn’t let it go.
Emmie climbed up beside Bert, who gave her a hug and then told me he was sorry for going in. I didn’t say anything to him. I just sat there by Daddy, holding on to him tight, feeling him slowly sag heavier. Finally he let me help him ease down to lie flat on the rough wood of the truck bed.
“Where are you hurt, Daddy?” I begged him to tell me, wishing the older boys hadn’t taken him so much at his word when he told them he was all right. Maybe Mr. Hammond was right. Maybe they should let the house go. Anything just to get Daddy away from here and to a doctor. Or at least to Mom. She would know what to do.
“It’s all right, Sarah,” Daddy told me, but I could barely hear him over the fire and the yells, even when I leaned close.
Emmie was still holding on to Bert, but at least he was sitting up. She was crying, I knew she was. And I couldn’t blame her. I was crying too. Holding Daddy’s head, watching the endless dance of sparks, I felt like the night would never end. The last of the barn fell down, but I don’t know if anybody but me even turned at the awful crash. Again I wondered where Lester Turrey was, or if he’d been here at all. Rorey was gone now; I didn’t know where she went. Maybe she was helping somewhere out of my vision, but I couldn’t say for sure.
One of the embers landed on Kirk’s shirt, and Franky doused him just in time. They were keeping ahead, sort of, but it was like trying to catch confetti, the contrary wind kept sending up so many sparks. A wonder somebody else’s clothes didn’t catch. Or their hair.
“They might lose the house, Daddy,” I said. He didn’t answer me. I looked down at him, not sure if he was awake now or not. “Dad?”
“’Least the sparks isn’t comin’ at us,” little Emmie said. “Is our house gonna burn up?”
I couldn’t answer her. Daddy’s sudden stillness was scaring me. “Robert!”
Somebody else came driving up in a truck. I wasn’t sure my brother heard me. So I yelled again. “Robert!” He turned his head, and then he came running. Whoever it was that just got here came running too. Barrett Post, the schoolteacher’s brother-in-law. “I don’t think he’s as okay as he said,” I told them as soon as they were close. “Something’s wrong.”
“Dad?” Robert called, touching Daddy’s arm and sounding every bit as afraid as I felt. “Dad?”
“What happened?” Mr. Post was asking, looking awful stern.
Neither of us answered. We both waited, hoping Daddy would respond.
“We’ve got to get him to a doctor,” Robert said solemnly. Suddenly it was hard for me to breathe.
“Where’s he hurt?” Mr. Post asked.
“Don’t really know,” Robert admitted. “He was savin’ Bert out of the barn. Part of it fell in ’fore they got out. But he came around. He said he was okay. But now . . .”
I’d never seen Mr. Post look so grim. He climbed right up on the truck beside me. I didn’t move. I was still holding Daddy’s head.
“Samuel?” He leaned way down, listening, I knew, for his heart or his breath. Then he looked over at Robert again. “You say he got out on his own?”
“No, sir. He was pinned pretty bad. And he might’ve been hit in the head. He wasn’t conscious when we first pulled him out.”
“Can you drive?”
Robert said he could. And suddenly Mr. Hammond was there by the truck too, telling Emmie and Bert to jump down.
But Emmie was crying even more than before.
“No,” I told her father. “Berty’s hurt too. And Emmie ought to stay with me. Not here.”
“Sarah’s thinkin’ right,” Mr. Post declared. “We’ll take care a’ this, George. Jus’ do what you can to save your house.”
Mr. Hammond backed away, not really wanting to, I could tell. In the fire’s eerie light he looked pale and forsaken. Robert made Bert and Emmie scoot farther toward the front, and then he went to start the truck.
Harry and Kirk were suddenly yelling. Me and Mr. Post turned our heads at the same time. “Good Lord,” he said under his breath.
I wished we could all be dreaming. Sparks had caught a haystack and were spreading across the ground into the trees and toward the cornfield.
Mr. Post jumped out of the truck. “Robert!” he yelled. “You go on out a’ here! Get your mama and find the doctor! I gotta see if there’s any stoppin’ this, ’fore we burn up the whole countryside.”
It’d never occurred to me to wonder how old Mr. Post might be, but he looked really ancient then. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said in a hurry. “You be brave and stay with your papa. It’ll be all right.”
I watched him run to his truck for a shovel. Everybody else was fighting sparks wherever they could. They’re gonna lose the house, I thought with a sick feeling. And the field too, and who knows what all else.
At least the wind wasn’t blowing toward our house. At least that should be safe. But looking down at Daddy, I didn’t feel much comfort.
With a sudden jerk we started moving. Robert hurried faster than the truck ought to go, and we left the awful chaos behind us.
“Sarah?” Emmie called. “Why’d God make this happen?” “It wasn’t God,” I answered her. But that was all I could say.
I sat there for a minute, feeling the wind on my wet cheeks and thinking of Daddy carrying me on his shoulders the way he used to do.
Suddenly I remembered hearing somewhere that people who get hurt need to be kept extra warm. I didn’t have nothing else to cover him with, so I took off my sweater and stretched it across his chest as best I could.
“Please wake up,” I whispered.
I knew we weren’t far from home. It shouldn’t take long to get there. But it seemed like forever, even with how fast Robert was driving.
“You okay, Bert?” I yelled, ’cause he had gotten quiet too.
“I think so,” he answered softly. “It’s just my ankle. I think I turned it. But Mr. Wortham—I’m awful sorry . . .”
I couldn’t say anything at all. I couldn’t blame Berty. I should’ve stopped him from going in. I should’ve been quicker. But more than that, I should’ve told on Rorey before any of this ever got started.
“Is Mr. Wortham gonna die?” Emmie asked.
“No!” I yelled at her. “No, he’s not, and don’t you say it again! He’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”
Emmie and Bert looked at me, and neither of them said a word. I knew I shouldn’t have yelled. And I knew I should probably say something now to make them feel better. Only I couldn’t think what.
Daddy moved just a little, and I held tight to his hand. Please, God, I begged inside my head. Please, please, let him wake up and be okay.
“Pumpkin . . .”
Daddy’s voice was low just as we were turning down our lane. And I got excited. I could hardly believe my prayer would get answered so fast as that.
“Oh, Daddy!” I smiled and squeezed his hand, glad to be hearing him call me “pumpkin” again, just like when I was a little kid. I thought he’d si
t up, but he just looked at me. And I guessed that was enough for right then.
He was coughing some, and Emmie scooted closer. Robert drove us up between the barn and the house and then stopped the truck and came flying around to the back. “How is he?”
Daddy tried to sit up. Using my arm to pull against, he got halfway, and Robert jumped up beside us. “Maybe you oughta lay still, Dad. I’ll get Mom.”
But Daddy wouldn’t hear it. “I’m all right, son. I just want to get in the house.”
Light from the oil lamps spread across the yard as the back door opened, and I could see Mom standing there looking out, surely wondering who it was and why we were back so soon. She would know the fire wasn’t spent. Anyone could tell that by the glow in the sky, in the wrong place to be the sunrise.
“Samuel?” she called.
“Right here,” he answered her, sitting forward despite Robert’s protest.
Mom must’ve thought it strange that none of us were hurrying toward the house. She came running.
“He’s hurt, Mom,” Robert told her before she even got close.
“I think I’m all right,” Daddy said again. “Just help me inside.”
“But, Dad—” Robert started to say, just as Mom got to the truck.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“Juli, I’m all right—”
“Part of the barn fell,” I tried to explain. “He was in there getting Berty out.”
For a minute Mom just stood there. “Oh . . . Lord, have mercy . . . oh, Samuel.” She climbed right up in the truck and started hugging on him, and then she saw Berty and hugged him too. “Thank God you’re both . . . you’re all right, aren’t you?”
For a second, nobody said anything.
“It’s not bad, Juli,” Daddy told her. “It could’ve been worse.”
“He wasn’t awake when we pulled him out, Mom,” Robert said. “And we were pretty worried when he—” “Just help me into the house,” Dad interrupted. “I just need to rest a while.”
“I’ll go fetch the doctor,” Robert persisted.
