Bonnie’s eyes darted from the mirror to the iron lung, back to her mother. She’d not spoken since we entered the ward, yet she didn’t appear afraid, only curious. Now, she looked at the nurse. “Can I touch her?”
“Certainly. Better yet, let me get you a stool to stand on. We have other children about your size who come to visit.”
The step stool brought Bonnie to a more approachable position. She leaned in and kissed Fiona’s cheek. “I say my prayers every night, and Avril and me play dolls. Rosey is bossy and tries to make me learn my numbers, but sometimes she’s nice.”
Her small, thin fingers smoothed Fiona’s hair. “Don’t cry, Mommy. You have to be brave so you can get well.”
Honestly, Bonnie acted like it was the most natural thing in the world to be talking to her mother in an iron lung. While she chatted, I let my eyes wander to the other patients.
Their total helplessness chafed my insides. The rhythm of the machines, while offbeat and disturbing, provided life-giving support. My own circumstances and inconvenience seemed small in comparison. One of the iron lungs had three portholes per side instead of four as Fiona’s did. I chewed my lower lip. A young girl with long dark hair occupied it. A child like my Rosey. Avril. Bonnie. My breath left me.
Thank God for Aunt Cora and the others who dedicated themselves to helping. My admiration for Aunt Cora grew three sizes in that moment.
Bonnie leaned over Fiona again, a twist of her mother’s hair curled in her fingers. “I love you, Mommy.” She hopped off the stool and looked at me. “I’m ready to go now.”
I stepped where Fiona could see me in the mirror. “We’re all praying you get better soon. Bonnie’s been an angel, but she misses you. We’ve tried to locate your family—”
Fiona’s eyes widened, then blinked rapidly like she was trying to tell me something. “You have someone in Arkansas? Is that right?”
More blinks, but I couldn’t tell if it was yes or no.
“Blink once for yes, two for no. You have family in Arkansas?”
One blink.
“Do you have other family?”
A puzzled look. No blinks, but she formed an O with her mouth.
I took a chance. “O’Dell?”
One blink.
“You were coming to find O’Dell?”
One blink.
“There was an accident. O’Dell was… hurt.” The painful look on her face and her fragile condition stopped me from telling her the truth. “You have to work on getting well, okay?” She closed her eyes. Whether to shut me out or because she was too tired to keep them open, I didn’t know.
Bonnie took my hand, her grasp firm as we left the ward, leaving behind the swooshes and clatters, the smell of sickness.
Too late I realized I’d not told Fiona who I was or how I knew about O’Dell. Nor had I asked permission to send Bonnie to Arkansas. I wasn’t even sure I could bear to see her go.
[ CHAPTER 31 ]
The nurse, a looming woman with steel-gray hair and eyes that matched, took the things we’d brought to dress the baby. When she’d finished, she handed him to me as the administrative assistant looked on.
Déjà vu flashed before me, a lump growing in my throat. The infant looked exactly as I remembered Avril. Same silky black hair. Same quivering chin with the dimple in the middle. Fighting back tears, I held the baby so Bonnie could see. She stood on tiptoe, her pale gold eyes locked on her brother, and reached to touch the blanket that swaddled him.
“Can we call him Willie?”
“If that’s the name your mom picked out, then that’s what we’ll call him.”
Bonnie asked to sit in the backseat by Willie’s basket on the way home. Within minutes, she and Willie fell asleep, making the drive eerily quiet.
Mary Frances met us at the door when we returned to the Stardust. “Thank goodness, you’re home. Got the baby, I see.”
“Hello to you, too. I’m sorry to be so late. Did you and the girls have a good time?” I held the baby close, nervous about whether she’d see the resemblance and make the connection before I had a chance to talk with her. Regret that I’d not told her Fiona was O’Dell’s other woman made my skin itch.
“The girls were fine. It’s been a hive of activity the whole day. I’ve been up and down answering the door or the telephone every five minutes.”
“Oh? Anything important?”
“First an older gentleman I’ve never seen before trying to rent a room. I told him he’d have to come back later.”
“I showed you the check-in routine.”
“I was making cinnamon toast in the broiler and didn’t want it to burn or catch the house on fire.” She let that dangle as if to remind me that stranger things had happened.
“Never mind, then. I’ll see him when he comes back.”
“He said he’d drop in later with his agent.”
“I bet it’s one of the acts Bobby Carl Applegate’s trying to get going. He’s probably hoping I’ll give him a discount. Who else called?”
“Doc Kelley called. And your aunt Cora. Both wanted the same thing—to see when you’d be home and to tell you there’s been another case of polio.” Her indifference to the baby puzzled me, but Mary Frances had always been self-centered to some degree and obviously had no reason to have an interest in a child who was going to be gone in a few days.
Her voice hitched up an octave. “Can we go outside? I need a smoke.”
“You’re welcome to step outside, but I need to get the baby settled. He’s on a three-hour feeding schedule, and it’s already twenty minutes past the time he should’ve had a bottle. Want to see him?”
“Later. I need a smoke.”
Bonnie had already skipped back in the quarters to see Avril and Rosey, and the three of them came squealing through the connecting door, all clamoring at once to see baby Willie. Thirty minutes later he’d been fed, burped, changed, and had every inch of his silken body inspected. Having an infant to care for wasn’t going to be the problem. Much harder would be keeping three little mommas from spoiling him rotten.
When I returned to the office, Mary Frances was on the porch smoking. I joined her and thanked her again for staying with the girls.
“It was fine. I didn’t mind.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the new case of polio. I guess Aunt Cora didn’t have any more to report on finding Bonnie’s aunt and uncle. I hope the polio connection doesn’t put them off.”
“It’s a terrible disease.”
“Seeing Fiona in an iron lung about broke my heart.”
Mary Frances shuddered. “I can’t even imagine why you went.”
“I needed to go for Bonnie.”
“It gives me the creeps. Seeing those posters plastered in the windows downtown is enough to gag me.”
“It is a reality, though. A danger we’re all vulnerable to.”
“So how was Bonnie’s mother?”
“She’s improving slowly. She’s no longer in isolation, and the cesarean relieved some of her back pain.”
“Did you need me for anything else?” She moved from one foot to the other and kept looking over her shoulder at her cottage.
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“Not right now.”
“I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you… to tell you how thankful I am that you’re here with us. I had my doubts, but you’ve been a trouper.”
“That’s what people say when they’re getting ready to deliver bad news. So what is it? You’re asking me to leave?”
“Oh, gracious, no. Not at all. But what I have to tell you might upset you. I’ve just now gotten up the courage.”
She ground out the cigarette with her new open-toed pumps. Red polish like rose petals dotted her toes. Prettying herself up, as people in the South were fond of saying.
I inhaled a bucketful of air. “You remember I told you O’Dell had a life insurance policy with the name of another woman?”
“Yes. I t
old you to burn it.”
“I’m glad I didn’t. Fiona Callahan was the woman.”
She stepped away from me, turning away to cough into her fist. “Bonnie’s mother? The one with polio? Are you sure?”
I nodded, perspiration bubbles breaking out on my forehead. “That’s what I think he wanted to tell you.”
“I think I will sit down.”
I dropped onto the steps by her and took her hand. “There’s no way of knowing for sure, but there’s a strong possibility baby Willie is your grandson.”
The words hung in the air, droplets of truth. I felt as if I’d given birth myself. The sensation, though, was freeing.
Mary Frances didn’t move or speak, just stared at her toes. When she looked up, her eyes shone with tears. “O’Dell always wanted a boy.”
Indeed. O’Dell had seemed a trifle disappointed each time I’d delivered a girl. After Avril came, he’d disappeared for three days. Fishing the bayou, he said, but I always felt I’d not been able to give O’Dell what he needed. A bitter taste came in my mouth.
“When you feel more rested, why don’t you come back and see baby Willie?”
“Maybe. The thing is, Georgia, I see now what your motives were in dropping this little bomb. You think I should assume responsibility for the baby.”
“Good heavens. That’s not it at all. I’m sorry if you misunderstood. I took this on because I couldn’t bear for him to be sent to a children’s home and grow up separated from Bonnie.”
“It appears you do the right thing only when it’s convenient. You didn’t even bother to tell me I have a grandson before you dumped him in my lap.”
“I didn’t…” I knew it was no use. “Why don’t you go lie down? You’ve had a long day.”
Peter stopped in after work to ask how our trip had gone. Rosey insisted it was Peter’s turn to hold Willie. He gingerly took him and cupped him in his hands like he was a raw egg in danger of breaking. Willie let out a squall.
Smothering a smile, I told him to relax. “Hold him closer to your body. Babies have a startle reflex when they aren’t cradled.”
“Like this?” He worked Willie into the crook of his arm. The crying stopped, but in all the ruckus, I hadn’t heard the office door jangle.
Bobby Carl stuck his head in the connecting door. “Yoo-hoo! Oh, you are here.” He scowled at Peter. “Handyman, huh? Sorry, bud, I didn’t realize you were living in here now.”
Linking my arm with Bobby Carl’s, I led him out to the office. “What can I do for you?”
He ignored me. “Who’s the kid?”
“Long story. We’re babysitting.”
“I brought you a customer.” He nodded to a tall, thin man with an easy smile. He looked to be around the same age as Malcolm Overstreet, but with a full head of fair hair fading to white at the temples.
“Georgia, this Van Sweeney, the client I told you about.”
“Welcome to the Stardust. I’m Georgia Peyton.” I offered my hand, and Mr. Sweeney didn’t shake it but lifted it elegantly and kissed the back of it.
“My pleasure, Georgia. This place is just as charming as it was the first time I came.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and his accent was Southern but not local.
Bobby Carl put his hands on the counter. “I tried to get Van to check in to the hotel downtown, where I’m sure the accommodations are better.”
When I scowled at him, he shrugged. “Don’t want folks to get the wrong impression, bein’s Mr. Sweeney’s a celebrity and all. He’s come early to work with the March of Dimes committee for a couple of weeks before the benefit.”
“It’s all right. We’ll try to make him comfortable.” I turned to the guest. “Bobby Carl told me you used to do vaudeville.”
“Never did make the big time, but I had a whale of a time singing, doing the old soft-shoe in small towns across America. Mayhaw was one of the more memorable stops.”
His slim, manicured fingers made me think he wasn’t a fisherman, but I handed him a brochure anyway. “Here are some of the places to eat and information about fishing the bayou in case you’re interested. I don’t know when you were last here, so there may be some changes. And you might want to check out the town square on the Fourth of July. They have a Mayhaw jelly tasting and bicycle parade.”
Bobby Carl danced from one foot to the other. “Kid stuff. The big celebration is the Mayhaw Festival.”
I nodded and looked at each of them. “Now, which one of you am I to collect the money from?”
Mr. Sweeney pulled out his wallet. “This is on me since I fancied staying here. How much for ten days? And my band’s coming the end of next week. Could I reserve three more rooms while we’re at it?”
A rush went through me when I realized this would be a nice windfall in light of the piddly number of customers I’d had the past few weeks. I did a quick calculation in my head and told him he could pay for the band when they arrived. After he paid me, I grabbed the key to number eight and asked if I could show him the room.
“I think I can find it.” A serious expression came on his face. “Pardon, but you look mighty familiar. You ever worked in Nashville?”
“No. Been right here most of my life. Let me know if you need anything. Our housekeeper will keep you stocked with fresh towels and make up the room each morning.”
“Most appreciative.” He gave a half wave and held the door for Bobby Carl. As they left, all I could think was why would such a nice man let Bobby Carl talk him into being his agent.
[ CHAPTER 32 ]
Ludi and Merciful lapped up Willie like a kitten with a saucer of milk. I didn’t have to do much more than get up for his night feeding. The second night we were home, Bonnie joined me on the divan and stroked Willie’s dimpled fist while I held the bottle.
“I bet your aunt Eyes and uncle Mitch would like to meet your brother. Maybe we should call them. Do you know where they live?”
Bonnie shrugged. “Aunt Eyes got mad.”
“At you? Or your momma?”
“Momma. Told her to go on and get out.” She yawned and leaned next to me. In an instant she was asleep, leaving me with more questions than answers.
The next day Mary Frances marched into the quarters.
“I’ve come to see my grandson.” That’s the way she was. Cut her some slack and she usually came around. She cradled him in her arms and kissed his forehead. “Would you look at that? He smiled at me.”
“It was just gas, MeMaw,” Rosey told her, now an expert in all things related to newborns. I let Mary Frances have a chance to get to know Willie by slipping into the office to do some book work.
Again that evening she paid a visit, so while she fussed over Willie, I went out front and sat on the steps. The lights of Mayhaw flickered on one by one, the view reminding me that I was connected to the town, to the world of gossip and laughter, to the people who made this the only place on earth I wanted to live. When I sat on the back steps, my soul stirred with loftier thoughts—the world beyond our tiny burg, the bayou meandering through the cypress, draining eventually into the Mississippi, how God kept an eye on all of it and, even more amazing, how He kept it all straight.
I turned and looked up at the Stardust sending its light to the heavens. The lump in my throat matched the knot between my shoulder blades. A haven. That’s what I wanted to provide for the world’s strangers. But it was more like a revolving door. And for my trouble I got a tightness in my neck and shoulders. Dirt under my fingernails. Sweaty armpits. All for people who would be here a day or two, maybe a week. The reality of it was both humbling and satisfying.
I didn’t see Peter until he dropped on the steps beside me, one half of his face bathed in neon blue, the other a sunburned orange color. Comical, really. All he needed was a star on his forehead.
He slipped his fingers through mine. “Whatcha thinking?”
“Not much. Just wondering.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
&nbs
p; “It’s got me into plenty of fixes before. Sonny Bolander says I need to do less wondering and more paying attention.”
“So what are you wondering?”
I couldn’t gather a suitable answer into words, so I listened to the rumble of cars on the highway, a cricket in the spirea beside the porch, the scruffy sandpaper sound of Peter’s hand as he rubbed it over his chin.
Finally, I looked at him. “You first. What are you thinking?”
“That it’s high time you got to practicing for the talent show. My buddies at the mill say it’s the highlight of the Mayhaw Festival.”
“Not sure I’ll even enter this year. Not with four kids to take care of. Why don’t you enter? You’re the best on the guitar I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m not as pretty as you.”
“Get outta here.” I rolled my shoulders, the earlier tension now gone. “Tell you what. I will if you will.”
“Trouble is, my guitar pickin’ would sound better with a certain redhead I know prettying up the stage.”
I didn’t have to think twice. “You got it. The Pearl triplets never can play in my key.”
“Who in the devil are the Pearl triplets?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
The porch light came on, and Rosey stuck her head out. “MeMaw wants to know how much Carnation milk to put in the bottle.”
I shrugged and looked at Peter. “So much for the fantasy. Guess I’d better get in there and pay attention to my real business.”
“How about we shoot for a jam session tomorrow? Same place?”
“It’s a date.”
True to his word, Peter brought over his guitar for jam sessions. The girls joined in, while Mary Frances cooed and spent time with Willie. I was afraid my mother-in-law’s heart would be broken again when Mrs. Benning came, but I saw no reason for her not to enjoy the time she had.
Ludi and Merciful helped with the cottages and the kids in the daytime. With summer bearing down, it was easier and cooler to cook outdoors, so most evenings we picnicked with whoever wanted to come.
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