by Leisha Kelly
What could I tell them? I knew deep down that George’s disappearance was not some innocent little jaunt. How could he do this? He’d promised us, he’d promised his children, that he would leave the booze alone and do his best.
The evening had grown so still. The breeze died back, and the flurries had slowed to a stop. Glancing up at the dark above me, I expected to see only the dusky swirl of clouds. But to the south, the sky was different. Just a piece of it opened up, just a whisper, a tiny window into the field of stars beyond the clouds. And the glimpse seemed like a promise, a tiny glimmer of hope. With a prayer in my heart, I turned and went back inside.
Asleep on the Hay
Just as I expected, Lizbeth asked about her father almost as soon as I got back inside. I didn’t want to tell her he wasn’t home, but Joe and Kirk already knew and they’d surely tell her when they got back, so there was little point in trying to keep it from her.
“He’s gone out for a bit,” I told her simply. “Mr. Wortham hasn’t spoken to him yet.”
“Out where? Did he take a horse?”
“No, he didn’t. But he didn’t seem to be on your farm.”
I saw her face change, her thoughts darkening, just as mine had. But Franky was standing close by, so she didn’t voice anything negative. “Well, if he went walkin’, his back must be feeling better.”
“Where would he go?” Franky questioned. “If he was headed to town, he’d a’ took the wagon.”
“Not necessarily,” Lizbeth answered vaguely. “’Sides, he mighta gone somewhere besides town. Maybe he’s just talkin’ to God and Mama in the timber.”
Frank looked a little doubtful, but he didn’t argue. “If that’s it, he’ll be back perty soon.” The words came out lightly enough, but I knew the gravity in Franky’s unusual silvery gray eyes. Neither he nor his sister said any more about it, though. Harry was stirring, and Franky went to keep Berty from jumping on him. Lizbeth got Emmie a cup of the fresh milk Robert had brought in. I put my arm around her shoulders for a brief little squeeze, and she whispered, “Thank you, Mrs. Wortham.”
We ate soup with dumplings for an early supper. Without Samuel, and without George. Joe and Kirk were back in time to join us, but the doctor still hadn’t arrived. I said a prayer for Louise Post along with the grace for our meal, hoping there wasn’t something serious going on. We were a dreadfully dreary group crowded around the supper table. Rorey and Harry both joined us but didn’t eat very much. Berty didn’t want anything at all, which was probably for the best at the moment. Emmie had nothing but milk, and only a little of that. It was Willy who was the most full of questions.
“Why didn’t Pa wanna come over?”
“He ain’t home,” Kirk answered before I had a chance to phrase things more gently.
“Where’d he go?”
Lizbeth looked at me, but once again Kirk answered before I got the chance. “Who knows? He just ain’t home.”
“Maybe he wanted t’ buy us somethin’,” Harry suggested.
“Yeah, right,” Kirk scoffed.
“You don’t know nothin’,” Joe told him. “It’s possible. You know he always buys us candy in December.”
“He’d a’ took the horse and wagon if he was goin’ to town,” Kirk echoed Franky’s understanding.
“It don’t take no wagon to haul home Christmas candy,” Joe argued. He forced a little smile. “He didn’t have money for that much.”
“Well, he’s a grown man,” I told everyone. “And since it is December, it’s probably best not to keep up our guessing.” I knew the skepticism in the children’s faces, especially Willy and Kirk. But I deeply appreciated Joe’s optimism. Far better for the little ones to have a little ordinary hopefulness than a fearful doubting of their father’s intentions. None of us really knew. Joe might be right, as unlikely as it sounded. And what a relief that would be.
Unfortunately, the uncertainty left everybody a little testy and glum. Nobody really believed that George had walked eight miles on a snowy day to do holiday shopping.
Rorey came very close to losing the little bit she’d eaten. Harry went back to the davenport to lie down before we’d even started clearing the dishes. When I went to check on him, he felt so warm I decided to bathe his forehead with a cool cloth. I’d never seen Harry like this, and I wished the doctor could find a way to hurry.
Emmie seemed a little better despite her lack of appetite. She still pulled at one ear, but she wasn’t as fussy now, and she seemed content to sit with Joe on the floor and play a little more with the yarn dolls.
Lizbeth, along with Sarah, helped me clean up. Katie started in too, but then she quietly just left us and went upstairs. That seemed a little strange for her, and I was about to go up to the girls’ room and see if she was all right, when finally I heard another vehicle outside. Not Samuel this time. It was a car, and not as loud as Mr. Post’s truck.
I was so glad to see old Dr. Howell. He came slowly up our porch steps, and I flung the door open before he even got to it.
“How’s that baby?” he asked me as he stepped in.
“Doing better, but there are three other—”
Before I could finish what I was saying, Berty ran up and tugged the doctor’s coat sleeve. “I got a earache. I throwed up too. But Harry—he’s sicker’n me. He ain’t even played at all today!”
“Well, sounds like I need to take a look at that boy. Were you saying there are three sick now, Mrs. Wortham?”
“In addition to the baby. But I do think you should look at Harry first.”
I took his coat and draped it over a chair back because our coat hooks were full of the Hammond children’s wraps and things. Everybody watched as I led the doctor to Harry’s side. He looked in his throat and ears and took his temperature, asking only a few questions. Then he wanted to see Emmie. Then Rorey, and then Bert, who’d been standing at his elbow and chattering impatiently the whole time.
“These four are all Hammonds, aren’t they?” the doctor asked, looking around at the other children’s faces.
“Yes,” I answered, not really sure why he’d asked.
“Is their father here?”
The room was suddenly stark still. “No, sir.”
“Are they staying the night with you, then?”
“I expect so.”
“Good. Gonna be awful cold, I heard. They’ve got no business being in the night air. Keep them home from school tomorrow. Every one of them. Yours too, Mrs. Wortham, even the ones who are feeling fine today. You’ve got a touch of the stomach flu plus ear infections in the youngest three. Might not spread to the rest, but there’s no sense taking chances on it going through the whole school. Everybody else feeling all right?”
Twelve children in the house. Maybe it was a wonder only the youngest Hammonds had been affected. But then I remembered Katie.
“Um, Doctor, excuse me. Somebody’s missing.” I hurried upstairs, leaving the doctor with a roomful of children and praying that Katie wasn’t feeling sick as well.
I didn’t see her at first when I got to the girls’ room. I had to step in and around the corner of the bed before I found her on the floor, all curled up and in tears.
“Oh, Katie. What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad?”
I put my hand on her forehead, but she didn’t feel warm.
“Jus’ my heart,” she said in a voice so quiet I barely heard her.
I sat down. “What’s wrong?”
She hesitated, her dark eyes brimming with tears. But apparently she decided it was best to tell me what she could. “I been dreamin’ about Mommy.”
She looked so awfully forlorn that I couldn’t help but pull her into my arms. “Last night?”
She nodded.
“Honey, I know you miss her. And it surely didn’t help, the mean things Rorey said earlier.”
“Rorey’s just sad,” Katie tried to explain. “And I think mad too, ’cause my mommy’s still alive.”
“Yes. But
that doesn’t make it easy for you, that she’s not here with you. And I wish I could do something about that—”
Katie shook her head. Adamantly. “No.”
“Maybe your grandmother has been able to find out where she is.”
“No.” She shook her head again. And then she burst into fresh tears.
“Katie, I’m not sure what you’re telling me. Are you afraid your grandma won’t find her?”
“No.”
She could barely answer me. She’d cried a lot when she first came to us, but it had been months since I’d seen any tears, and even then it wasn’t like this. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right? The doctor’s still here, and we should go down—”
“No. I . . . I dreamed Mommy came back—”
“I still believe she will. One day. She just doesn’t seem to understand what she’s missing, not spending time with her wonderful little girl—”
“No”—she squeezed at me—“I . . . I don’t want her to take me away.”
I was speechless for a moment, realizing I might have had things backward.
She was shaking her head. “I wanna stay with you.”
“Honey, you will. We don’t even know where she is. But don’t you miss her?”
This time, she nodded, struggling to speak. “Sometimes I want Mommy. I wish she’d come and see me. But . . . but sometimes I wish she was dead like Rorey’s mommy.”
“Oh, honey.”
“I feel mixed up and bad inside.”
“Confused, I think. That’s what you mean. And I understand, sweetie. I know you love her. But it wasn’t easy when you were with her. She needs our prayers. I’m sure she loves you. She just didn’t know how to show it.”
Katie’s mother had never been attentive to her needs and had finally abandoned her, just leaving her with Samuel’s brother Edward, a man she barely knew, to run off and pursue a singing career in honky-tonks and clubs. I still could scarcely fathom a mother doing that. And it made my stomach tighten just thinking about the day Edward had shown up here with Katie hidden in his car. Terrible, rough-shod Edward with his awful accusations.
“Is Rorey’s pa gonna go away like my mommy?” Katie asked then. “Maybe Rorey wouldn’t care, but there’s all them. Lots of kids. Is they gonna be sad and confused like me?”
I held her tight for a moment before I could answer. “Maybe they already are. In a way. Grieving their mother. And their father needs our prayers too. He just doesn’t seem to know how to handle things . . .”
I knew I shouldn’t be telling a six-year-old much of anything about George. And yet she seemed to understand something of my worries. “Honey, we should go downstairs. The doctor is surely wondering.”
She looked up at me. “Does he know anything about heart hurts?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m sure he does. But unfortunately, there’s not much he can do about things like that.”
“Then I don’t need to see him.”
I brushed a few dark curls away from her eyes. “I guess not. But I need to talk to him about what we can do to get Harry and Emmie and the others feeling better. Do you want to come with me?”
She took my hand. I started to get up, but she didn’t move. “If Mommy does come back, are you gonna send me away with her?”
“It’s not quite so simple,” I admitted. “Because . . . because of her leaving you the way she did before, Samuel and I have become your guardians. We couldn’t just send you away now unless we knew it was best. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Mommy’d just go away without me again, to go and sing someplace else.”
“Yes. Unless she’s changed an awful lot, she probably would. But it’s not all right, you know that, just to go off and leave your child.”
“Uncle Eddie scared me.”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer. Samuel’s brother had stirred anger in me like I’d never felt for anyone. And fear. Not just of his unpredictable temper, but of what he was trying to do to my husband, coming here and accusing him of being Katie’s father. I knew it wasn’t true. Samuel had never even met Katie’s mother. It had all been a strange misunderstanding, and we’d learned that Katie was probably their sister. But Edward had come with such a chip on his shoulder, such a vindictive desire to hurt his brother. He’d even come to blows. None of us would soon forget, despite the change of heart before he left.
“I know he scared you,” I managed to tell her. “He scared me too. I’m glad now that he brought you to us, but that doesn’t make it right the way things happened, and what your mother did.”
She lowered her eyes. “I hope Rorey’s pa just went to the store.”
I smiled a little and took a deep breath to calm the churning inside me. “I hope so too.” I helped her to her feet, and she came with me down the stairs to join everyone else. I let the doctor look her over, but he didn’t find anything wrong. I guess I knew he wouldn’t. He seemed to know our situation. At least he understood that Katie wasn’t a Hammond, or my own daughter either.
“I’d say it’s more than stomach flu ailing the whole lot here,” Dr. Howell told me privately. “You do remarkably well, Mrs. Wortham, but it’s a wonder things aren’t worse. So close to Christmas, and so many children without a mother. You make sure and take extra good care of yourself along with these young ones. Seems like you’re going to be spread awfully thin.”
I couldn’t find any way to answer that. He gave me quinine for the fevers, Oltman’s Stomach Remedy to help any nausea, and wintergreen oil for Harry, Berty, and Emmie’s ears. A generous supply of all three, in case any of the other children got to feeling poorly.
“Keep them in bed all you can,” he admonished. “Though I realize it won’t be easy with that youngest boy. At least try to keep him restful.”
“We can’t pay you today—” I started to explain.
He waved his hand like he was dismissing the idea. “Talk to George about it when you get the chance. He can bring me some eggs or a bit of bacon one of these days.”
“Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas,” he said. “I hope you don’t need me again before then.”
“How’s Mrs. Post?”
“The poor woman’s had an awful struggle with the influenza. Looks to be a touch of pneumony on top of that. It’s got her down weak. Keep her in your prayers. She may still be in bed for Christmas, but I believe she’ll recover.”
I nodded. The Posts had been such good neighbors to us, and to the Hammonds, and now to have such troubles! No wonder Barrett had been worried. I tried to consider whether there was anything we could do for them.
But I didn’t have time to think about that long. Berty was pulling at my sleeve.
“Joe says I’m gonna hafta rest. Does ’at mean right now?”
“You at least need to be doing quiet things, the doctor said. And it won’t be long before time to settle everyone down for bed.”
It was still early, but I knew I’d better set things in motion now. It always took a little planning to bed down so many Hammonds at our house.
“You want us to bring the mattresses down, Mom?” Robert asked me.
We’d done that before, putting the bed mattresses on the floor for some and letting others sleep on quilt-covered box springs, to put something besides floor under most of us on a chilly night. “That’d be fine,” I told him. “But just slide the one in your room onto the floor and leave it there. I think I’ll let you big boys all stay upstairs.”
Robert, Willy, and Joe all headed up to move the mattresses. I expected Kirk to go with them, but he just stood at the base of the stairs and stared at me. “Why do we need to stay here? We come back over for supper ’cause Mr. Wortham told us to, but why shouldn’t we go home?”
My insides felt pinched a little just seeing the fiery look in his eyes. “The doctor said the little ones have no business being out in the night air tonight.”
“I ain’t talkin’ ’bout the little ones.”
“Why? What if Pa comes home? He’d ’spect us to be home, wouldn’t he?”
“No,” I told him soberly. “I think he would expect you to be here. I think he planned it that way and is probably counting on it. He knows that Lizbeth and I would not be comfortable with the little ones over there sick tonight without a parent.”
“I said I’m not talkin’ ’bout the little ones! We ain’t all little, you—”
“Kirk!” Lizbeth cut him off. “You hold your tongue and go help with the mattresses. This minute.”
Lizbeth had been the boss since they’d lost their mother. I’d seldom seen any of the others question their big sister, let alone exhibit any real defiance. But tonight, Kirk was different.
“I don’t hafta do what you say. An’ I don’t hafta do what Mrs. Wortham says! You ain’t Mama or Pa, and if I ain’t got neither a’ them no more, I can decide stuff for myself! I don’t need you tellin’ me—”
“You think you’re grown up, do you, Kirk Thomas?” Lizbeth fumed. “You’re not but thirteen, and you still got a pa! And me! And you’re not gonna act otherwise. Now get up there an’ help!”
Beside me, Katie shook a little. I knew she hated yelling. She hated arguing. And Bert and Emmie were both staring at us, taking in the commotion.
“Kirk,” I said quietly, hoping to calm things a little. “It’s all right to want to go home. I understand that. But please wait till Mr. Wortham gets here. Even as big as you are, I hate the thought of you heading out through the timber again alone tonight.”
“There ain’t nothin’ out there but cold,” he scoffed.
“The cold is bad enough,” I said. “So is the aloneness.”
“Maybe Joe or Willy’d go with me,” he offered.
“Willy likes to stay with Robert,” Lizbeth said more calmly. “An’ I could use Joe’s help here if any of the younger ones is sick in the night.”