Rorey's Secret

by Leisha Kelly

  “What you been doin’ today, anyway?” Sam asked him.

  “Workin’ on the cedar chest and chair me an’ Mr. Wortham’s s’posed to get out first a’ next week. Got the chest done.” His voice was quiet and his silvery eyes seemed far away.

  “Well, that’s a good thing,” his older brother told him. “It was better you not being right there with Pa this afternoon.”

  “George isn’t still blaming Franky, is he?” I said in dismay. “After talking to the pastor?” Too late, I realized we hadn’t told Samuel.

  “Blaming him?” Samuel asked. “You mean for the fire?”

  “I think he’s tryin’ to sort it out,” young Sam told us. “Pastor told him Franky ain’t one to lie. An’ I’d have to agree with that. But then, Rorey ain’t either. So I think maybe she just thought she had it figgered how it musta been—”

  At that moment, Rorey walked in from the porch, and her brother stopped what he was saying.

  “I know I must’ve missed some of what you’re talking about,” Samuel told us. “But accidents can happen, and there’s no sense casting blame on anyone.”

  “Don’t seem like everybody agrees with you,” Franky said quietly.

  Rorey looked over at him, and he turned his eyes to meet hers. Something unspoken passed between them. I wasn’t sure what, and I wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed it. But Rorey told us she was so awful tired that she didn’t think she could eat any supper. She went right upstairs.

  Franky was still a sight with his sooty clothes and bruises and his two hands still wrapped in bandages. Maybe Rorey was feeling guilty over causing him so much trouble. First with Lester. And then with blaming him for the fire just because she’d seen that he was awake. She ought to have known better than to jump to conclusions like that. Maybe she should be feeling guilty. I decided I’d better go up and talk to her after a bit and see if she didn’t think she should apologize to her brother.

  Little Georgie came sauntering back into the room, took one look at me, and commenced trying to pull on that apron again.

  “You want a pickle?” I asked him. “They’re better than noisy pans any day.”

  He shook his head and gave the immovable cupboard door quite a kick.

  “Whoa, there,” his father told him. “That ain’t no way to act in Mrs. Wortham’s kitchen. You tell her you’re sorry this minute.”

  “So’wy,” he told me with his big brown eyes looking my way. “Picka?”

  “Oh, you do want one.” I picked out a nice juicy pickle and handed it to him. He plunked down on the floor in front of the cupboard and started sucking on it.

  “How’s your hands?” Sam was asking Franky.

  “It ain’t nothin’. I wouldn’t be wearin’ no bandages ’cept Mrs. Wortham insisted.”

  “Pa said you wanted him to notice.”

  “Nope,” Franky admitted to his brother. “I almost took ’em off so he wouldn’t see.”

  Young Sam shook his head. “Pa can be funny sometimes, we all know that. You shouldn’t let it bother you, all right?”

  Franky nodded.

  We called in everybody to eat. Oh, what a tired and grubby bunch they were. And on a Saturday night! We’d be needing baths, church or no church. Usually there was no question but that we’d go. That’s where Christian families ought to be on a Sunday morning. But this time I was hoping Samuel would change his mind. It was just too soon for him. Oh, how hard the ride would be over our bumpy country roads! It made me hurt for him, just thinking about it.

  When most everybody else was eating, I went upstairs, thinking I’d better take this opportunity to talk to Rorey. Not just about apologizing to Franky but also about her feelings for the Turrey boy and that I’d have to let her father know when I got the chance. She wouldn’t be very happy with me about that, I knew. Or with Franky and Sarah either, for talking to me. But I hoped she’d see that we all just wanted what was best for her.

  I was rehearsing in my mind how to begin such a delicate subject as I opened the door to Sarah and Katie’s room.

  “Rorey? Can I come in a minute?”

  She didn’t answer. She was lying on Sarah’s bed, already asleep. I pulled a cover up to her shoulder and left her alone.

  Samuel didn’t eat much. At first that bothered me, but I had to stop myself and consider what a blessing it was to have him doing so well as he was. It was silly for me to keep on fretting.

  Little Georgie was yawning and running around behind and between chairs to keep from giving in to the tiredness. Finally his father swooped him up and said it was time to go. Pretty soon Georgie snuggled in his grandma’s arms, I carried the baby, and young Sam picked up Thelma just as Delores had promised me he would. We walked on out and got them situated in their car. About half the other kids followed just to see them off.

  “Now, don’t you worry,” Delores told me again. “I’ll see that Thelma gets plenty a’ rest.”

  “Thank you so much,” Thelma told me. “You’re such a blessin’. And we’ll keep on prayin’ that Mr. Wortham gains his full strength ’fore you know it.”

  “Thank you,” I told her and gave her a hug.

  Emmie ran up to hug her oldest brother and plant a kiss on little Rosemary’s forehead. Then she reached and kissed Thelma too. “G’night. Can I come see the baby tomorrow?”

  “We’ll see, sweetie, we’ll see,” Thelma told her.

  They drove off, and we all waved and then headed back to the house. It seemed emptier, though we still had five Hammond boys and Emmie. Plus Robert and our girls. And Rorey.

  Harry started a game of checkers with Berty, and I got Robert and Kirk to haul me water to heat for baths. Samuel got up and moved to a chair in the sitting room, and I had to admit he looked like he was walking better.

  Everybody needed a bath, but we were all so tired that I figured it wouldn’t hurt if we started each bath with whoever seemed the cleanest so we could reuse the water and save hauling more quite so many times. That meant Katie would be first once the water was warm. Or maybe Emmie so we could get her settled down to sleep.

  “Ain’t no reason why we shouldn’t be over to home tonight,” Kirk said. “’Cept Pa’s all upset over everythin’. He said we oughta be where we can get up an’ see to the animals first thing, but it ain’t that hard to come over in the mornin’.”

  “It don’t take all of us to care for the animals neither,” Willy added.

  “Sometimes your father’s got to think,” Samuel told them. “Don’t worry. Lizbeth’s got good sense. She’ll know how to talk to him.”

  “She oughta bring him over here,” Emmie declared. “I’d hug him real big an’ tell him there’s nothin’ to worry ’bout ’cause Mr. Wortham’s gonna help us build the barn back.”

  “You be quiet,” Willy grouched at her. “Mr. Wortham can’t build. Not hurt like he is.”

  “You wait and see,” Samuel said to that.

  I held my tongue on the matter, only giving Emmie’s little shoulder a pat. “You’d be a real comfort to him, sweetie, but you can hug him tomorrow. Do you want me to read you a story?”

  I knew she’d like that. I expected her to run and get our big book of Bible stories for children. She especially liked everything about Miriam and Moses and the Israelites leaving Egypt. But instead of going to get that familiar volume, she looked at me with solemn eyes and said, “What about Franky’s book? What’s it about?”

  I had forgotten all about the book Franky’d taken such trouble to borrow from Elvira yesterday. Silas Marner, if I remembered right. Kate went and got it off the shelf.

  Kirk rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

  “Are you sure you want to hear some of this?” I asked Emmie. “It’s not written for children your age.”

  “Yeah, but Franky didn’t get to hear it yesterday, an’ he had to fight an’ ever’thin’, jus’ to get it home.”

  “That’s dumb!” Willy told her. “He wasn’t fightin’ ab
out that.”

  But Emmie seemed determined, surprising even me. “I don’t mind to listen, at least a little bit.”

  “Neither do I,” Samuel said from across the room. And that settled it for all of us.

  Harry and Bert kept on with their checkers game in the corner. Emmie snuggled between Sarah and Katie on the floor with her dolly on her lap. And Robert, Willy, and Kirk took up most the davenport; they were all getting so big. Franky sat in the smaller chair to their right, and I sat in the only chair that remained, closer to Samuel in the rocker. He reached and squeezed my hand for just a minute. I saw his smile, but he suddenly looked so tired.

  “Do you want me to help you lie down?”

  “No. No, let’s hear a chapter first. Then the water’ll be hot. I’ll lie down then and whoever can stay awake can get a bath in.”

  He was right to surmise that we were all pretty tired. What a night was last night! I hoped we never ever saw another one like it.

  I knew that the boys on the davenport were less than thrilled at the prospect of listening along, but they had the decency to respect Samuel’s word. So with everyone gathered around the sitting room except Rorey, I started to read about the strange weaver and his reputation around the village of Raveloe. Franky sat in rapt attention, absorbing every word, and the girls were listening too, except that Emmie kept fiddling with the hem of Bessie-doll’s skirt.

  “How long is this chapter?” Willy asked after a while.

  “Only three or four pages more,” I told him. But what pages those were. The story moved to young Silas Marner’s past when he’d stood accused of a crime he did not commit. Betrayed by a friend and rejected by a misguided congregation, he was left to disgrace, with no one willing to believe his innocence.

  Everyone in the room was quiet. Sarah sat looking at Franky.

  I was about to ask her to go and see if the water was warm, but before a word was said she got up and disappeared up the stairs.

  “Great book,” Willy taunted his brother. “She musta thought Mrs. Wortham was gonna read chapter 2.”

  18

  Sarah

  Halfway up the stairs, I got to thinking about what Rorey might think and what Rorey might say if I just walked in asking her questions. Franky’s book was hard to listen to, with hard words put together in ways that weren’t easy to understand. At least for me when I was hearing it out loud. But then came the part about William Dane accusing Silas, when he surely must have done the wicked deed himself. And all I could think about was Franky and Rorey.

  I walked the rest of the way pretty slow, my mind trying to tell me two different things. Maybe Rorey was trying to cast the blame for her own fault on to her brother. Just like William Dane. Maybe she’d caused the fire her own self.

  But she already told me the way it was. Lester didn’t even come. She wasn’t in the barn. She wouldn’t lie.

  I took another step, thinking of Franky fleeing his father’s accusations and sitting alone in the woods. He’d never once tried to blame Rorey, despite what she was saying about him.

  Because Franky was the one in the barn. Franky set the fire, a voice in my head was trying to say.

  But I took another step, wondering why Franky hadn’t just said that Rorey was lying about it. At least about some things. I knew she was. As I slowly climbed the last few steps toward my bedroom door, I knew Rorey was lying, as sure as Silas Marner’s false friend had lied to get Silas in trouble. And I was feeling uncomfortable hot about it, because even though not everybody believed Rorey now, most of her brothers did, and mine did too. And so did her father when he wasn’t trying real hard to please the pastor.

  It wasn’t fair, because Franky would tell us straight out if he really had dropped a lantern or something. Hard as that would be for him, he’d fess up. I knew he would.

  I stood at the top of the stairs. The thought entered my mind that Rorey was probably sleeping and maybe I should just let her sleep. But I pushed the thought out of my head and opened the door. “Rorey?”

  She rolled over on the bed but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Rorey, come on. I know you’re not asleep.” I went right over and climbed on the foot of the bed, bouncing all the way across so I could sit against the wall. I didn’t care how much I jostled her in the meantime.

  “Sarah, what are you doing?”

  “You missed supper.”

  “I don’t care. I’m tired.”

  “Maybe you just don’t wanna be down there with my dad. And your brothers.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Maybe you’re feeling guilty. Are you, Rorey? Seeing them hurt?”

  “Shut up. I’m tired.”

  “I know. Everybody’s tired.”

  “Then go to sleep. Let me sleep.”

  “You didn’t say nothing to Daddy, you know. Or Berty. Or Frank. I noticed that. Most everybody else had at least something to say. At least to ask if they’re doing all right.”

  “It’s mostly plain they’re gonna be all right. Mr. Wortham’s all right, isn’t he?”

  She looked absolutely awake now. I had her attention. But I wasn’t sure of what I was seeing on her face. Anger? Fear? It seemed like both, and maybe a lot of other things all stirred in together.

  “It’ll be a while before he’s really okay,” I told her. “He’s got busted-up ribs, Rorey. And a cut on his leg big as my hand, plus being knocked clear unconscious with something hitting him in the head. He coulda died, Rorey! My daddy almost died!”

  “I’m sorry for him,” she said real slow and soft. “I’m sorry he got hurt.”

  “So how’d the fire start?”

  “I . . . I told you.”

  “Yeah. You were waiting up for Lester. And because it was so dark, you took a lantern—”

  “I never said that!”

  “You didn’t have to. You were expecting him in the barn, so that’s where you were, and maybe you heard a noise or something, I don’t know, but somehow the lantern got tipped and it happened too fast to do anything much about it. Right, Rorey?”

  “That’s not what happened!”

  “Yeah? Maybe Lester was on his way. You think he was on his way? But when he saw the fire, he prob’ly just turned tail and run off ’cause it’d be a whole lot more important to him not to get caught over there than to stay and help your family save what they could. Don’t you think? Isn’t that like Lester? Right?”

  “Shut up, Sarah! You don’t know nothin’!”

  “Franky prob’ly just heard you like before. And so you decided to blame him because it would be easy, wouldn’t it? Everybody picks on him anyway. Your pa and your brothers would believe you because they think he’s clumsy and odd. So you figured you could tell them whatever you wanted and they’d listen—”

  “I didn’t make it up. Franky was in the barn! He was!”

  I’d always envied Rorey’s cute dimpled cheeks and strawberry blonde curls, but right now she looked so ugly to me I couldn’t hardly stand it. “Sure he was! Trying to save your pa’s animals. But the fire was already started. Wasn’t it? You tell me! Right now!”

  “Oh, Sarah, leave me alone!” Suddenly something changed in her. She turned from me and sat facing the other way, hugging at her knees.

  “Tell me what happened, Rorey.”

  “You’re gonna tell.”

  “You should’ve told already! What’d Franky ever do to you that you’d try gettin’ him in so much trouble?”

  “Shut up.”

  “No! It’s not fair. Rorey, you know it’s not!”

  She turned around at me, and she hardly looked like herself at all, her face was set so hard and angry. “It’s not fair for Franky to act like he’s my pa or somethin’! It’s not fair for him to act like he’s so wonderful all the time and try to be your folks’ favorite! And the pastor’s favorite! But he sure ain’t Pa’s favorite, I can tell you that!”

  “I know that. I think everybody knows that. But it don’t
tell me why, or what happened.”

  “I told you what happened.”

  “No, you didn’t. You told me what you want people to think.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “You know Franky didn’t try to blame you or Lester. Didn’t say a word about it.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You should. He could tell people you’re lying. He knows you are. Unless he thinks you’re so confused you don’t know any better. Wouldn’t that be something? You trying to get him in trouble, and him making excuses for you.”

  “Sarah, shut up!” She jumped off the bed. For a minute I thought she was going to run out of the room, but she didn’t. She stopped at the dresser where Katie and I kept our clothes and turned back around.

  “Franky’s not so wonderful. Pa says we’d still have Mama if it weren’t for him.”

  Whatever I’d been thinking, whatever I might have said, those words stopped me cold. “What?”

  “We’d still have Mama if it weren’t for him. Pa would be happier, an’ things’d be easier—”

  “What are you talking about? She was sick. I remember. Mom went over to help, but there was nothing she could do. How could that be Franky’s fault?”

  “You just don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me!”

  She sat down on the floor, and my mind whirled about. Was she lying to me again? Or would Mr. Hammond really say such a thing? It made me wonder how he treated Franky when none of us Worthams were around to see.

  “Pa said Mama used to be stronger’n him. Strong as an ox. She could throw hay or throw him if she wanted to. She could do work like two men. But that changed when she had Franky. Even ’forehand. She got sick as a dog when she weren’t never so sick with the older ones, an’ after he was born she couldn’t hardly do nothin’. She never did get her strength up. Lizbeth had to start doin’ most her work.”

  “Rorey, there’s no way that could be Franky’s fault. It’d be real stupid to blame him—”

  “Just listen. That ain’t all. Couple weeks ’fore Mama took sick worse the last time, Franky dropped a whole basket a’ eggs, an’ most of ’em broke. We was needin’ ’em awful bad, an’ Pa got on to him over it. You know Franky. He just runned away. In the col’ weather like a fool, an’ it was freezin’ rain outside.”