Emma's Gift (34 page)

He was up and almost out the door when Joe stopped him. “Your coat's wet, Pa. I'll go.”

George shook his head. “I'll be fine. But you can come with me.”

It seemed like hours before they returned. Samuel didn't stir, and we were all pretty restless in the interval. Sarah cuddled up against her daddy, crying. I felt like crying too, but strangely for her pain more than for Samuel. He'd be fine. He had to be.

“Mom?” Robert was asking. “Why does bad stuff keep happening?”

I didn't really have an answer for that, but I had to tell him something. “I don't know, honey. But your father'll be all right. I know he will.”

“We better pray for him,” Franky said.

“Yes. That's the thing to do.” I looked around at the little faces around me. “Don't be afraid, all right? God is still here with us.”

“That didn't help Mama,” Willy said cynically.

“Yes, it did. She had perfect peace.”

I prayed with children gathered all around me. Lizbeth was giving the baby a bottle, and Sam Hammond was holding little Berty in his lap.

“I don't want my birthday cake,” Rorey said for the second time. “Don't want turkey pie neither if he don't wake up.”

“He'll wake up,” Robert insisted. “He'll be up before the doctor gets here.”

We were all relieved when George and Joe came back. Of course, the doctor wasn't with them, not yet. But that he was sent for was some comfort at least.

“He any better?” George asked right away.

“He's warmer,” I told him, but there wasn't much else I could say.

“Barrett's gettin' a move on pretty quick. Weather's good an' clear now too. His sleigh'll get through no problem. Doctor oughta be here some time this afternoon.”

I just nodded.

“Why don't you sit down, Mrs. Wortham?” he suggested. “You're lookin' kinda tired or somethin'.”

I shook my head. “I'm not the one that just walked all that way through the snow.”

Just the same, he brought me a chair, but I didn't sit in it. “I have to get dinner for all of you.”

“I'll set everything out, Mrs. Wortham,” Lizbeth said quickly. “Don't you worry about it.”

I went over to the fire where Samuel still lay with pillows propped under his head and shoulders. Sarah was at his side, and I knelt beside her. “Sammy,” I said. “It's time you wake up. You're worrying the children.”

“Why's he sleepin' so long?” Sarah asked.

“Sometimes that happens when someone hits their head, honey.”

“Berty didn't sleep at all when he fell on the steps. And he bumped his head.”

“That's some different.”

“But, Mommy—”

Samuel moved his hand, just a little. Sarah saw it too and didn't finish what she'd started to say. He opened his eyes slowly, looking first at her, then at me.

“Daddy!” Sarah squealed. “Is you all better?”

Sam looked a little confused. “Did…George…”

He couldn't seem to finish.

“Yes. Two of the boys helped, but he already had you out of the pond.” I took his hand, delighted beyond measure that he was conscious and talking.

“You okay, Daddy?” Sarah asked.

“Head's pounding, pumpkin.” He looked at me. “Ice wasn't solid.”

“I know. George told me.”

“Bet you didn't know…you married somebody so stupid.”

“Oh, hush. I'm just glad you're still here.” Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help it. I wiped them away, but he'd seen.

“Sorry, honey. For worrying you.”

“It was just an accident, Sammy! You don't have to be sorry! I'll make you some tea a minute.”

He didn't answer me, just seemed to be looking around the room. “Where's George?”

“Right here…” He'd been behind me, but when I turned around, he wasn't there.

“On the porch,” Franky reported. “I seen him go out.”

“He went and sent Barrett Post after the doctor for you,” I told Samuel.

He tried to sit up, but I saw the pain in his face.

“Please lie back, Sammy. He's all right.”

Kirk went to the back door, and I knew he was checking, just to see. But I didn't expect to hear what he said when he came back.

“He's cryin'.” He didn't seem to know what to think.

Lizbeth nodded, as if she had more of an understanding on it than the rest of us did. “Maybe he'll be ready for some birthday cake afore long. If he can cry, he can feel better after, and then we can go on with today, like we're s'posed to.”

“He ain't gonna feel better!” Willy protested. “It ain't fair, that's what! For Mr. Wortham to get better when Mama didn't!”

Lizbeth shook her head. “Hush! Folks is funny sometimes. They can cry happy an' sad at the same time. Sure, he's hurt over Mama! But he's glad it's comin' out okay today, an' so am I. Our Pa's a hero, ain't he, Mrs. Wortham? He saved Mr. Wortham's life! Mama would be proud a' him. She'd want him to stay right here an' be a protector for every one a' us—you all too. Ain't that right, Mrs. Wortham? Mr. Wortham?”

I looked at Samuel, and he looked at me. “He's a hero all right,” I told her.

Samuel managed a nod. “Looks like I could use all the help I can get.”

“Pa!” Rorey hollered, suddenly excited by such words. She picked up her doll and raced for the porch. “You's gonna be our portector, Pa! You's gonna be a hero!”

I had to smile, and Sammy squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Jesus,” he whispered.

Much to Samuel's delight, the children were all over George for the rest of the afternoon. And when Barrett Post and the doctor finally came in, we were all in one big circle spread across the sitting room floor, eating Rorey's birthday cake.

I'd gotten dry clothes for Samuel. He wasn't quite feeling like eating yet, but he was strong enough to hold Sarah on his lap. And for a moment, Barrett and the doctor just stood there looking at us.

“Feeling better, I take it?” the doctor asked Samuel.

“Yes, sir. Hurting still. Light-headed if I try to get up. So I haven't moved much.”

“Pa's a hero,” Harry carefully pointed out.

Doctor Howell barely glanced his way. “I heard some such.” He knelt beside Samuel, took a good look in his eyes, and carefully examined the goose egg on the back of his head. “Shouldn't move much for a few days,” he told Sam. “Got you some concussion here. Doesn't seem to be any ill effect from the ice water, though. You're a lucky gent, you are.”

“Wasn't luck,” Samuel told him. “Providence. We've had God's help this whole day.” He looked at George. There wasn't a word between them, but somehow there didn't need to be.

“The Almighty has a way a' showin' his hand,” George said in agreement. “Even when we's too dull to wanna look.”

I saw Mr. Post swallow hard and look down at his boots. He didn't say anything, not until the doctor was done and gone back out the door.

“Mama said once…” he started, and then hesitated. “Mama said when things is hard, that's when God does his miracles, 'cause there ain't nobody standin' in the way thinkin' they can do better.”

“Your mother knew what she was talking about,” I agreed with him. “He does the most for people who know they need him.”

“Want some cake?” Rorey offered. “It's my birthday.”

Barrett looked like he could almost sink into the floor. “I been angry forty years, George Hammond, an' here you sit eatin' cake an' celebratin'! Blast it all! I unnerstood what you was going through before, but…but—”

“Had to lay it down,” George said. “Or die.”

“But how d'you lay it down?” Barrett asked, looking truly shaken.

“I dunno. An' I ain't sayin' I'm doin' so well. But if God can handle Wilametta up there, maybe he can handle the rest a' us too. Maybe there's some reason me still bein' here.”

Barrett shook his head. “I didn't know how long it'd be afore I'd hear you in your right mind.”

“Don't know how my mind is yet,” George admitted. “But I'm here. Gotta be a pa again too.”

Barrett turned his eyes to me. “You been prayin' for us, ain't you, Mrs. Wortham?”

“Yes,” I admitted, wondering why he would think to ask.

“Louise said you'd take it up, now Emma's gone. Shoot, Louise said she's feelin' like prayin' too, just thinkin' a' Emma takin' so much stock in it.”

“Can't hurt ya,” George told him. “Maybe you'll quit bein' s' angry, you ol' cuss.”

His words surprised me, but then I remembered how they'd bantered in easier times, in the summer and at harvest, ribbing each other like enemies though we all knew they were friends.

“Maybe I'll come to church one of these days,” Barrett said. “See what all the fuss is about.”

“Thanks,” George told him then. “For the Christmas turkey.”

“An' the fixin's,” Lizbeth added.

“Yeah,” said little Harry. “Yummy!”

“Our pleasure to do it,” Barrett said and turned to go.

But Sam Hammond, leaning against the door frame, suddenly spoke up. “Maybe you oughta pray while you're here. Seems like in this world there ain't nothing sure.”

His words so surprised us that the whole room got quiet.

“I know one thing,” Sam continued. “Mama wanted me to believe, an' it sounds like your mama wanted the same thing from you. It prob'ly ain't gonna set real well either one a' us decidin' we know better.”

“You all plan this out ahead?” Barrett questioned.

“Nope.” It was Willy that answered, and Barrett just looked at the boy a while.

“I do gotta do it,” Barrett said finally. “I know I gotta do it.”

Franky suddenly rose up on his knees, excited. “Mrs. Gray says you jus' tell Jesus you wanna be his instead a' your own. Jus' tell him you's glad he died for ya.”

Barrett just stood and stared. “What are you doin', George? Raisin' up a whole passel a' preachers?”

“Nah. That was Wila's doin'. Always said it sure would be nice if one or more of 'em took to the cloth.”

And just like that, Barrett prayed. Right there in front of all of us. He prayed and accepted the Lord and told George how much he cared and Samuel how glad he was that he was doing all right.

“Keep up the good work,” he told me as he left. “I'll tell Louisey 'bout this. Don't know if she'll laugh or cry.”

George went out with him to the sleigh. And when he came back inside, he stood in the doorway for a minute, shaking his head. “Barrett praying,” he said, looking at Samuel. “If that don't beat all.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Samuel

Albert Graham came two days later and got his car stuck in a melting drift about a quarter mile down the road. I was asleep on a pillow when the noise of the door and the commotion woke me and set my head to throbbing again.

“Oh!” Juli exclaimed when she saw him. “Mr. Graham, how's your wife?”

“Better. Much better, thank you.” He seemed surprised to find me, and a mattress, on the floor. And to see Lizbeth and the baby there, along with Rorey and Sarah and Berty in the corner playing with a cluster of paper angels.

“We're so sorry about Emma,” Juli was saying. “So sorry you couldn't be here.”

He nodded his head. “I wanted to come. She was a wonderful aunt. I would've liked seeing her again.”

He came and stood over me. “Heard in town you had a close call.”

“Yes, sir. Guess I did.”

“Don't have to call me sir. I'm not much older than you are.”

I smiled at that and thought of the last time he'd come, when he took hold of Emma's ax and whacked at the log right next to me without a word of warning. Hard enough to make me back up a couple of steps and wonder at him for sure.

“Left the car stuck down the road a piece,” he said. “I could use a shovel. You still got Uncle Willard's in the toolshed?”

“Yes.”

“You don't have to be doing the shoveling,” Julia protested. “Robert and Willy can do that.” She called for them up the stairs.

“You got all the Hammonds here?”

“No,” I told him. “Exactly half of them over home with George right now. They all come shifting back and forth.”

“George all right?”

“It's not been easy. But he's all right.”

Robert and Willy came tearing down the steps like wild horses but stopped in their tracks when they saw Albert.

“Mr. Graham's car is stuck on the road,” Juli told them. “He needs some help shoveling.”

“Okay,” they said almost in unison. But both boys turned their eyes to me before going for their coats. They were worried. They'd been worried for days about what Albert would say when he got here.

“When I get the car in, will you be up to walking with me out to Aunt Emma's grave?” he asked me.

I pulled myself to my feet. “I'll help you with the car.”

“No. You stay here. You're not supposed to be doing much is what I hear. Clement Post says you almost died, and now you and George's boys are preaching to the whole countryside.”

“That's a little exaggerated.”

There was a certain softness about his expression. “It's been a hard winter so far. And I mean more than the weather.”

He went with Robert and Willy and let them ride back with him the short distance to the farm. I got my coat and hat. My head hurt, and I was still having trouble being light-headed when I was up too long, but Albert wanted me to walk with him. Nothing would keep me from it.

“Sit down,” Julia urged him when he came back in. “Warm up a little with a cup of tea.”

Albert shook his head. “You and Emma and tea.” But that was all he said. He sat down and let her fix him a steaming cup and looked all around him at the house while he drank.