Rorey's Secret

by Leisha Kelly

  Mom tried to talk to her. She even gave her a hug. But I could tell Rorey was glad to get away.

  Daddy couldn’t work too hard. The other men wouldn’t let him. But they joked all day about him and George Hammond being the bosses. Dad watched and looked over the paper that showed how they were going to put up the barn. But after a while he had Mr. Hammond sit down with him alone, and they had a real long talk. I wish I knew what they’d said. Because even after the talk was done, Franky didn’t stay at his home that night. Berty did. Emmie too. But not Franky.

  That Sunday, Daddy came to church. Mom packed pillows around him in the truck and even brought one inside the church for him. He just teased her that he wasn’t fragile, but he moved different, and we all knew he was still a long ways from right. The dizzy kept coming back, and some bad headaches, and his side was paining him more than he let on, I think, and that made him tired.

  But I was proud of him sitting in church. I was real proud Dad had saved Berty and got the Hammonds a barn again and everything else. That Sunday, Mr. Hammond came to church too, and Rorey sat right beside him. She even came to Sunday school class and sat in her regular seat, right by me.

  “Lester’s mad at me,” she whispered.

  I didn’t answer such words as that. “Katie and me are reciting a poem by William Shakespeare at school tomorrow,” I told her. “You ought to come.”

  But right then Mom asked if anybody remembered Psalm 116 that we’d read a couple of weeks back, when she was there last. Franky raised his hand, and when she nodded, he started quoting it right out.

  Rorey rolled her eyes. “There he goes again.”

  “Yeah,” I told her. “Don’t you wish you could remember stuff as good as he does?”

  Rorey looked away. And I smiled and turned to listen. Because it really was a wonder, and those words even seemed to fit him.

  “I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice an’ my supplications. Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live . . .”

  25

  Julia

  The first Sunday that Samuel was back in church, we stopped at Charlie Hunter’s service station on the way home even though we knew he’d be closed. He’d told us we’d be more than welcome to use the telephone. Samuel was finally going to call his mother. I’d almost forgotten about the letter by then, and pretty much decided I must have thrown it away. I’d been so tired that day.

  Samuel stood with the telephone receiver in one hand, leaning his back against the wall. I prayed that his mother would be gracious. I prayed that she’d be proud of what he’d done and tell him so. But she wasn’t home. I could tell he was disappointed. Then we went on to our Sunday dinner.

  Samuel didn’t eat much. He went to lie down without me prompting him. I’d been so glad that after a week he seemed to be feeling better, but that afternoon I knew he wasn’t feeling well at all.

  He still seemed weak Monday morning. He got up for a while but then had to lie back down again. I told him surely he’d just done too much over the weekend.

  Barrett Post came by early to tell us that school was let out for the day because his brother, Elvira’s husband, was doing poorly and had to see the doctor. Elvira was looking to retire by Christmas, he said, and the board was wanting a young unmarried woman to take her place.

  Picking what was left of the ground cherries with Kate, I prayed for Clement Post and Samuel. I thought Samuel might like it if we went to town to call his mother again. But I didn’t want to mention it yet. Not till he seemed to be feeling a little better. I almost sat down and wrote another letter, in case we couldn’t get to the phone, but then I thought I’d better not. Samuel wanted to talk to her himself, and besides, I ought to just believe that he’d be fine to go into town as early as this afternoon. I ought to have faith for him to be well. He’d had one painful week, despite how much he tried not to show it. And I believed that surely from here on out he would be feeling better.

  As I was picking cherries, Franky sat under the apple tree with Sarah, doing some ciphers. She’d offered to help him since she was home. I wondered how that was going. Sarah didn’t quite understand how he could tackle three, four, or even five digits in his head but struggle so severely with simple problems on paper. Some days I didn’t even bother with paper, but I knew she was right that he needed to be able to write down his charges for the work he did, as well as read someone else’s.

  “It’s just numbers!” Sarah had told me. “That’s not so hard as words. Why can’t he read numbers?”

  He did some. But he was forever confusing twos and fives, or sixes and nines, or the plus and multiply signs, even though his vision was fine. I didn’t understand it either. But it made the arithmetic almost as hard as the reading.

  Emmie went and joined them for a while, and Sarah told me later that Emmie could add and subtract just fine in her head but scarcely knew any of the numbers on paper. I began to wonder if maybe Emmie was right, that maybe she and Franky were a bit alike.

  “Franky’s the only one who hasn’t been home overnight yet,” Katie pointed out to me. “His father can’t still be mad, can he? He didn’t even do anything wrong.”

  “No, he didn’t,” I agreed. “And George knows that. He even apologized.”

  She looked over at me with her face so sad. “But he still doesn’t want him, does he?”

  How could I tell her something like that? How could I come right out and admit that I didn’t know how long Franky would be spending nights with us?

  “Honey, Franky’s father seems to be having a difficult time. And I guess he’s just being difficult in the middle of it. He only said he wanted a break for a while, that’s all.”

  “From Franky?”

  “I know. It doesn’t make much sense.”

  She glanced over toward the apple tree. “Rorey’s the only other one who hasn’t been back and forth all week.”

  “She’s having a difficult time too.”

  Katie glanced down into her bowl of ground cherries with their greenish-brown husks and gave them a shake. “Looks like more with the husks on. Too bad this isn’t even a mess.”

  “We’ll have enough for preserves when we finish. Not many. But some is better than none.”

  “I thought Georgie’d trample them all.” She stood and pushed a strand of dark, wavy hair behind one ear. “Mom, I think somebody’s coming.”

  I looked down the lane. Sarah and Franky were looking too. A car was coming. Charlie Hunter? It’d been so long since he’d driven out this way that I wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t alone. Of course, he had a wife and two sons now, but I could think of no reason why they’d be coming to call, especially during hours when Charlie was normally working.

  As they came up our drive, I could see that the woman in the front seat was not Millie Hunter. She was a good deal older and wore a generously brimmed straw hat. And there was a man in the back. He stepped out first.

  “Julia!” Charlie called out the window. “Brought you some kin, straight off the train!”

  Kin? My heart started pounding, and I almost dropped my bowl of cherries. Off the train?

  There was something vaguely familiar about the man who had been in the backseat, but I still didn’t realize who he was. I had no living relatives except Samuel and the children. And Samuel’s family was so far away, in more ways than one.

  But as he came stepping toward me, I thought of the cheery best man at our wedding. Samuel’s cousin, the only cheery relative Samuel seemed to have. Dewey? Come all the way out here? He was the reason we’d moved to Illinois, although he’d had to start over back East not long after we got here. And we hadn’t seen him since.

  “Dewey?” I called, feeling sure and yet not sure all at the same time.

  “Good to see you, Julia!”

  He kept on coming in my direction. But the woman with the hat just got out of the car and stood watching. It wasn’t Dewey’s wife, I knew that. Had he br
ought his mother? She was nearly as difficult as Samuel’s mother.

  Suddenly I felt cold and scared inside. Samuel’s mother. Joanna.

  I had to push myself to walk in their direction. What could have brought them? Especially her. She’d never been to visit us. Not even when we lived closer. We’d had to go and seek her out when we had Robert and Sarah, or she never would have seen her grandbabies. Joanna just didn’t visit.

  Dewey came right up and enthusiastically pumped my hand. “A man we talked to at the train depot directed us to your friend at the service station across the road,” he explained. “And he was good enough to drive us all the way out here. I was expecting to hire out a taxi car. Didn’t realize Dearing wouldn’t have one.”

  I just stood with my hand still holding his, almost too surprised to speak. Katie had followed me, and Sarah was suddenly at my side. Franky and Emmie came up close too.

  “This is . . . quite a surprise.” I managed to say.

  “Well, yes. We thought it might be. And we were worried for most of the trip. It was a great relief to hear from your friend that Samuel’s been up and about some. How is he today?”

  I just stared for a moment. This didn’t seem real. They knew? They knew Samuel had been hurt? But I didn’t mail the letter. And we didn’t call.

  “Mom, who is he?” Sarah whispered.

  I suppose that might have been less than polite, but I wasn’t behaving much better, just standing there staring. “It’s your father’s cousin Dewey,” I said. “And . . . and your grandma.”

  Sarah’s whole face lit up. “Grandma? Oh, I prayed you’d come!”

  I looked at my daughter in shock, and then I thought I understood. Sarah had mailed that letter. She must have.

  Sarah didn’t wait for her grandmother to approach us on her own. She ran over and took hold of her hand. “Thank you!” she cried. “Thank you for coming!”

  I held my breath, almost expecting Joanna to pull away or say something unkind. But she only stood still for a moment, looking surprised at Sarah. And then she said her name. “Sarah.” And it was a voice I didn’t know. I stepped closer as her eyes turned to me.

  “Julia, I hope we’re not intruding. But after your letter, we . . . I—I just felt like I needed to come.”

  “You’re welcome,” I told her, feeling that she needed to hear that assurance immediately. “You’re both very welcome here.”

  “Is Samuel inside?”

  “Yes. He was lying down.”

  Her eyes were deep and sparkling with a hint of tears. They didn’t look like Joanna’s eyes. Not the Joanna I had known before, who with one glance could make me wish I had somewhere to hide.

  “Sarah’s grown up so tall and beautiful,” she said. She turned to Franky. “And this, this must be Robert.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m Frank.”

  “Frank? Oh. A neighbor.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And this is my sister.”

  Emmie smiled, but that was all.

  “Are you the boy my Samuel saved?”

  Franky stood tall and proud, his ciphers book in one hand. “No, ma’am. That was my brother. And we’re grateful. Mr. Wortham’s a hero.”

  It was so unlike Joanna to say something like “my Samuel” that I began to wonder if it was really her. But it looked like her. Except for the kindness in those eyes.

  “It didn’t surprise me to hear it,” Dewey was saying. “I just hope it’s the last time.”

  “Do you think it’d be all right for us to go in and see him?” Joanna was asking me almost timidly. “I don’t want to disturb him too much if he’s resting.”

  “Oh, goodness,” I said, snapping out of my shock. “Yes, of course. He’d want to see you. Right now. Come on in, please.”

  “Do you want me to get Robert?” Franky asked quickly.

  “Yes,” I told him. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

  I was beginning to turn and show them to the house when I noticed Joanna’s eyes suddenly on Katie.

  “Are you Katie?” she asked with something solemn in her expression.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Katie answered. She spilled some of the cherries out of her bowl without even noticing. Emmie scrunched down and started picking them up.

  “I’m Samuel’s mother.”

  Katie nodded. Then slowly she reached out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “You do look like Samuel. Both Samuels.”

  I was glad for her to shake Katie’s hand, but I was still not sure what to think. Samuel had dreamed something like this. I guess I’d dreamed something about it too. And I wondered if she had a box of letters stowed away in Charlie Hunter’s car.

  Charlie was unloading several things from the back.

  “Thank you so much for bringing them,” I told him. “My pleasure.”

  Dewey grabbed all he could of their bags in his long arms, and Sarah hurried over to help him.

  Charlie had to get back to work. “Have a nice visit,” he said. Then he waved and was gone.

  There was nothing to do but show them in. I wondered how long they would stay, but I wasn’t sure I dared to ask. I didn’t want to do a thing to risk spoiling Joanna’s pleasant frame of mind. Even if it didn’t last and she got persnickety again, I wanted Samuel to see her like this. I wanted to watch her greet him like a mother should, maybe for the first time in his life. Even if it did feel like a waking dream.

  They followed me up to the porch, and I was so proud of Emmie holding the door for them. Franky was already gone, running out to the field to tell Robert his grandmother was here. I almost wished I could see Robert’s face.

  “You can set your bags anywhere,” I told them. “Samuel is on the davenport, right this way. He’s been sore, but he’s stronger, doing all right.”

  “I’m glad,” Joanna said. “The letter frightened me. I kept thinking he might’ve been lost. And me never telling him the things I should.”

  I tried not to stare. Lord God, only you can make this kind of change in a person, if it is truly real. Does she know you now?

  I thought Samuel would hear us as we came in. But he was lying so still, his eyes closed, and I knew he was asleep, with a bed pillow under his head and a cushion hugged to his side.

  “Samuel?” Joanna called his name softly, and I couldn’t help but think of her jagged, ugly voice taunting him the day I met her. “Who is she, Samuel? Speak up, or she’ll think she’s got hold of a stammering baboon!”

  He woke, turning his head at the same time, as if looking for the voice. I saw the stark change in his eyes. Surprise. But past that, I saw the familiar wariness in him as he began to lift his head. He was always on guard with her. Always.

  “Samuel, don’t get up. Don’t let me trouble you. Just lie right there. Please.”

  He laid his head back down, his eyes turning to me in question. But then Dewey stepped into his view.

  “What’s this I hear about you walking through burning buildings?”

  Samuel smiled a tiny smile. “Dewey.”

  Dewey leaned forward, about to greet him with an embrace. But he stopped. “Don’t want to hurt you, pal,” he said.

  “It’s all right,” Samuel told him. And they hugged. These two had played together. These two had been the best of friends, enduring together the tumultuous ways of both sets of parents. And they’d become good men. I was glad for them. I was always glad to hear from Dewey. And I was so glad to see him again.

  Joanna stood watching without a word. I could remember her hugging Samuel only once, at our wedding. And that had been stiff and mostly because people had expected it.

  “Son?” she said, sounding timid again. Dewey turned around and reached to give her hand a squeeze. That gesture surprised me as much as anything else.

  For a moment nobody said anything more. Samuel and his mother only looked at each other. I saw his eyes soften, and I knew he was seeing the same difference I had seen.

  “Mom,” Samuel finally said. �
��I—”

  “No. Don’t say another word.”

  Like a sudden veil, the hurt was in Samuel’s eyes again. “Juli, some water—”

  “I’ll get it!” Sarah ran for the kitchen.

  Joanna stepped just close enough to reach and touch Samuel’s hand.

  “Son, I need you just to listen. For just a minute. Please.”

  She had tears in her eyes. Samuel did too. Just a little. He was still not sure of what he was going to hear. I wasn’t either. But I knew it would be different from anything we’d ever heard from her before.

  “I’m glad . . .” she started. “I’m glad you’re all right. I called Dewey and asked if he might be able to come with me. I’m so glad he could. It’s such a long way. But I’d have come alone if I needed to. Oh, Sammy . . .”

  She lowered her head. Samuel carefully took her hand in his. “It’s all right, Mom.”

  “No. Nothing’s been all right. For years now. And I’m so sorry.”

  I saw those words wash over Samuel. Words he’d never heard but had needed for so long. He didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. He closed his eyes for just a second, and when he opened them they were awash with tears. I noticed suddenly that Katie was crying too, and I took her hand.

  “Can you forgive me, Samuel? I was such a poor mother. And you should’ve had so much better.”

  He reached both arms to her and pulled her into his embrace. At first she was taken off guard a little. She was stiff, but then she stretched her arms around him and held him. “Thank God you survived,” she whispered to him. “If you’d gone—if you’d been killed and I never made it right—oh, Sammy, how could I forgive myself? I was such a drunk. I was so caught up—”

  “Mom, you’re saying was . . .”

  She lifted herself up from him. I was waiting just as anxiously for her answer as Samuel was.

  “I’m trying to change. I . . . I am changed. At least a start.”

  “Joanna,” I dared ask, “do you know the Lord?”

  “I’m trying to know him. Trying to learn. I want a piece of what you’ve been trying to share with me for so long. I’ve been re-reading your letters. All of them. Over and over. And then when the new one from Julia came—”