Authors: Leisha Kelly
I was just about done when I heard a motorcar off in the distance. Before I could think anything about it, the big old rooster went tearing across the garden patch and out to the barn.
“What’s got into you?” I called. I set the strawberries down by the well and went to take a look. There was nothing I could see by the chicken coop, no reason for him to run away like that when inside were all his ladies and all he could want.
“Crazy chicken,” I called out. “I suppose you’ll want me to help you back in again soon!”
Jack gave a squawk, and I realized that the car sound was much closer. I turned just in time to see a shiny coupe at the base of Emma’s lane. Driving in.
A wave of anxiety dashed over me.
What if it’s Albert?
What if he’s mad as a hatter over Miss Hazel’s bitter words? What
can I possibly say?
I forgot all about the rooster and the strawberries and just watched the black car come up slowly and park beneath a leaning sweet gum tree. Only one man sat inside. All I could tell was that he was wearing a short derby and seemed to be studying me before he even got out of the car.
I could’ve kicked myself for not going with Sam and Emma. They were traipsing over the timber, by now surely at the side of the grave. I wiped my hands on my apron and wondered if my hair was an awful mess.There was nothing more I could do but pray I wouldn’t say something stupid.
Finally the man stepped out of his car, still looking at me. Whoever he was, he was tall and dressed fancier than most of the people I’d seen around Dearing. He hesitated at first, looking around, and then quickly moved toward me.
“I’m looking for Emma Graham,” he called out rather gruffly.
“She’ll be back in a little while,” I told him, trying to sound friendly. “Can I get you a cup of tea while you wait?”
He looked angered at my suggestion. “Where’s she gone?”
“Out to her husband’s grave, sir. She hasn’t been in quite a while. They shouldn’t be gone long.”
He glanced toward the house and then back at me with a frown, this time looking me over from head to foot. “Mrs. Wortham, isn’t it?”
His tone was harsh; there was no doubt that he was angry. Whoever he was, he looked big and fierce and mad enough to be dangerous.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, the words almost stuck in my throat.
“Your husband took her clear out in the woods, then.
In her condition.”
He was so abrupt it set my knees to shaking. “Yes, but—”
“If you’ve hurt her in any way, I’ll have the sheriff out here so fast it’ll make your head spin! You’ll be sorry you ever set foot on this farm!”
Samuel
Emma sat a long time, gazing down at the flowers we’d placed among the weeds in front of Willard’s grave.
Sarah looked up at me, waiting for one of us to say something, but we didn’t.
When she was finally ready to move on, Emma leaned down and arranged the flowers just so, taking up a handful of them to lay on top of the stone.
“He was a fine husband,” she said. “Never did carry on the way some do. Never drunk nothin’ he couldn’t feel free to share with the preacher.”
“That was a real blessing,” I told her, thinking of my father coming home so drunk that he’d fall on the floor before making it to bed. And after him came a stepfather who wasn’t much better. Liquor bottles lined the dresser in their room, and I hated it, knowing even as a small child that it shouldn’t have to be that way.
“I know you ain’t Warren, Samuel,” Emma said in a quiet voice. “I don’t want nobody thinkin’ I’ve lost track a’ m’ senses. But you’re what the Lord’s brung me, do you understand? I want you to be same as a son, you hear?”
I just nodded my head, thinking it was no time to argue with however she chose to think of me, or whatever she wanted to call me. I could serve her needs and be happy doing it. And she was probably right about the Lord sending us—he certainly hadn’t led us anywhere else.
“We should be gettin’ back,” she suggested. “I’m gettin’ mighty tired. You done a fine job on this chair. But the ground sure is rough.”
“I’m sorry about that, Emma.” I wished there was something I could do about that, but, of course, there wasn’t. Pushing the chair was much harder than I’d anticipated, especially over grass and rocks and hills. But she’d hung on and didn’t say a word of complaint.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice even quieter. “I’ve really wanted t’ come out here all along.”
“I thought so.”
We wheeled on over crevices and channels I hadn’t noticed when I was out here with just Juli and the kids. We had to stop every few seconds just to get one of the wheels loose to roll again.
“It’ll be easier in town,” she assured me. “Won’t that be somethin’, ever’body gawkin’ at me in this here thing! You couldn’t get me up the stairs of the church, though, I don’t s’pose.”
“I’ll carry you, like we did before. And then carry this in too. If you want it in.”
“We’ll have t’ bring it ’least once,” she determined. “So they can see what you made me. After that, it won’t matter. Don’t need no wheels to sit in church.”
As we headed back toward the house, Sarah stopped to pick some of every wildflower she could find. It wasn’t hard for her to keep up, though, as slow as we were going. She would slip a few yards behind, then come running back with a handful of blooms to deposit carefully in Emma’s lap.
Each time Sarah brought more flowers, Emma thanked her and gathered them all in a little heap in the apron she’d brought along. Before long, she was singing a hymn I couldn’t remember the name of. All the bumps and jostles of that chair moving over the uneven ground made the song a challenge, and several times Emma’s voice fell off awhile as we bumped our way over something in particular. But she always started back up again, and she kept up the song the rest of the way home.
By the time we reached the cleared area along the fence line, I was sweating down to my toes. This business was harder work than anything I’d done in a long time, but I wouldn’t stop, not for a minute. And if she’d said she wanted to go back to the grave, I would have turned right around.
Julia
He finally told me his name was Albert Graham and that he was absolutely furious to find us here. I wished for Sam and Emma to get back, but at the same time was almost glad they weren’t here. Mr. Graham wouldn’t listen to a word I said. He told me I could make any excuse I wanted or try to paint things up as pretty as could be. Words didn’t change things.
“A cheat’s a cheat,” he snapped. “You’re here, using what’s hers, while she wastes away.” He turned toward the timber and looked as if he were thinking of running out there.
Not a bad idea,
I thought. “How long since you’ve seen your uncle’s grave? Do you know the way?”
“Of course I know the way!” he snapped and stomped away from me. But in the sudden silence, I heard them. And I knew he’d heard them too. He stopped in his tracks.
It wasn’t half a minute till we saw them, coming through the weeds, with Emma singing, Sam pushing with all his might, and Sarah dancing around them with flowers in her hand.
I just stood there, knowing what an impact the sight of them must be making on Albert Graham. Strange that they didn’t seem to pay us the slightest attention.
It was Sarah who noticed us first. Then the singing and the wheelchair stopped. For a split second nothing could be heard but the rustle of breeze and a lark across the field.
Emma broke the silence, as only Emma could, with her excited yell. “Albert Tucker Graham! Oh, praise the Lord! If it ain’t the finest thing to see you! Come here, boy!”
He stood for a moment, seeming surprised at the welcoming joy in Emma’s voice; maybe he’d expected us to turn her against him. Then he walked in her direction, taking a good look at Sarah as she ran past him on her way to me. Samuel still stood there, his hands on the old hammer handles he’d fastened to the back of the chair. I took Sarah in my arms and stepped closer, not sure what to expect.
“Albert, meet Samuel and Julia Wortham,” Emma said, but Albert didn’t reply. He leaned over to give his aunt a hug and then stood again, just looking at Sam.
“Where’d you get the chair?”
Sam took a step to the side, as if giving Albert room. “It was made for her.”
I looked at Sam and shook my head.
Why doesn’t he just
say he made it himself? It might matter.
Albert went around behind the chair, looking it over. “You all right, Aunt Emma?”
“I am. I been to see Willard. Can’t believe how long it’s been. Oh, Albert, you oughta go. He loved you so.”
“There’s not even anything to hold you in on this thing.”
Emma turned and looked at him with just a touch of indignation. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be tied to no chair, would I? That’s what these here arm things is for, to hold on. I ain’t feeble, Albert! No more’n I was the last time you was here.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“You can’t believe ever’thin’. Oughta know that by now.”
Albert glanced at each of us for a moment, then turned his attention back to his aunt. “Hold on then, Aunt Emma.
I’m taking you to the house.”
It was with a great deal of difficulty that he got the wheelchair moving through the tall grass. Pushing it across the wide farmyard was an obvious strain, but he wasn’t about to accept Samuel’s help.
“Aunt Emma, it must have been a pitiful trip with this thing through the woods.”
“A few bumps is nothin’, to get where you want to go!”
Emma countered. “I’ve heard there’s folks in the mountains that’ll walk more’n a hunderd mile over rocks, just to hear a preacher. This ain’t nothin’ like that.”
“I doubt those stories are true.”
“Well, you ain’t never been there to know.”
Albert cracked his first hint of a smile. “You’re well enough to argue, at least.”
When he finally got Emma wheeled up to the porch, he stopped a minute to look over the chair again before he turned to Sam. “You did this yourself. Those are my grandfather’s wagon wheels. Still got the G he always marked on the inside there.”
Samuel didn’t say anything, and no wonder. It was impossible to tell if Albert was expressing appreciation for the work done or disapproval for the use of those wheels.
“I came to talk to you, Aunt Emma,” Albert said. “And I mean only you. I’m taking you in the house, and I want you to tell everybody to stay outside.”
“Ain’t no need bein’ rude to m’ friends,” Emma scolded. “I reckon they heard you. C’mere, Sarey, honey.” She reached her hands to my daughter, and I let Sarah down to go and hold Emma’s hand.
“You ain’t been proper introduced,” Emma told her nephew. “This here’s Sarah Jean. Sweetest thing that ever did run ’round out here. A shame none a’ the Grahams ever had ’em no daughters.”
She gestured toward me. “That’s Julia. I seen you met her first. Hope you wasn’t too terrible rude. There’s a boy, Robert. He’s off t’ school. And that’un’s Samuel. He built this, all right. Surprised me with it this mornin’. Should a’ known that’s what he was up to so late.”
“It’s not a very pretty contraption.”
“Got the job done,” she argued. “Think a’ me tryin’ to get back there any other way! You borrowed Lowell Jacoby’s horse cart, Albert, an’ nearly lost me in the crick! This is a sight better’n that.”
“Will you let me take you inside?”
“I will. You want I get Juli to put us on some tea?”
Albert shook his head. “I don’t want anything but time to talk things out. I’ve heard some bad things that need to be set straight.”
“Well, I can do that. We’ll have us the tea after.”
Albert picked her up easily, but her apron fell open, showering the chair and the porch steps with wildflowers. Albert stopped and stared a minute, taken by surprise.
“Don’t worry,” little Sarah offered sweetly. “I’ll pick ’em up for you. Me and Emma, we like flowers.”
“I can see that.” He looked a minute at the colorful mess and the little girl’s bright smile. Then he turned back to the house.
“You all excuse us,” Emma said. “We’ll be a minute or two.”
They went inside, and Albert shut the door.
“Is he gonna live here?” Sarah asked us.
“I think he’s got a home in Chicago,” I explained.
“Then maybe we’ll all go there.”
“No, honey.”
Sarah started piling flowers on the top step, and I sat next to them and looked over at Albert’s nice car.
“Emma’s our family now, Mama,” Sarah declared, her eyes serious. “And he’s Emma’s family too. Don’t that mean he’ll stay?”
Emma
Albert eased me inta my rocker real careful, like I was somebody’s baby doll. ’Fore I could say anything, he dragged up a kitchen chair and sat in front of me, all serious.
“Aunt Emma, why do you want to be out here with these people?”
It made me smile, knowing how concerned he was, and him treatin’ me like a child. What might that Hazel’ve told him, anyhow? “Truth is, I’d wanna be out here whether they was or not,” I told him. “Couldn’t get it done afore, though.”
“But why
are
they here?”
“’Cause I told ’em to stay. They ain’t got no home to go to, Albert. They ain’t got much a’ nothin’.”
“But why is it your responsibility? You hardly know them.”
“I know ’em plenty by now. And they’s the most decent folks you could care to meet. You oughta visit a bit with that Samuel. You’d like him.”
“Emma, he’s living off of you! And not turning a tap to care for his own family!”
“Hogwash! You oughta see him work ’round here! He don’t sit idle, that’s for sure! You got no right to talk, none at all, when you ain’t got the least notion how it is!”
“Did he even try to find a job?”
“He’s got him one with Mr. Post, part time. Bothers him plenty that he ain’t found nothin’ better. But it ain’t his fault.”
Albert wasn’t convinced, though. “I know a lot of people are out of work. That doesn’t excuse him trying to take what’s yours.”
I scrunched back in my seat. Albert and me always did disagree a lot, seemed like, but we always come ’round to agreein’ in the end. “Albert Graham, what d’ya think? That he’s talked me inta givin’ him this place?”