“I’ve got myself off track. I didn’t come here about my berry bucket. A lard pail’s easy to come by. Fry a few chickens and you’ve got another one.” She fixed Lilly with her eyes again. “Are we square?”
Lilly searched her mind for something to barter with. “Would you be willing to let Mazy stay days with you? You know she won’t follow you around
—most likely she’ll be propped up reading a book. We could all eat supper together; then you could spend the nights at my house.”
Armina rubbed a spot between Kip’s ears. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Ye think I’m going loony, don’t you?”
“I don’t think anything of the sort. There’s nothing wrong with your mind that time won’t heal.”
Armina slid Kip from her lap and stood. “Okay, then.” She stuck her hand across the desk like she meant to seal the deal.
Lilly moved to Armina’s side. She hugged her friend
gently. Maybe Armina didn’t want the contact, but Lilly did. “You’ll be fine, Armina.”
Armina relaxed just the tiniest bit in Lilly’s embrace. It made Lilly sad to think her friend kept a wall up against her.
When Armina cracked the outside door, Kip nudged around her and stuck his nose into the opening. “Looks like Kip’s a-coming with,” she said.
“Don’t you want to go out through the waiting room so you can get Hannah?”
“Nope.”
“She’ll need to collect her things.”
“I’ll set them on the porch.”
Lilly threw her hands up in exasperation. “Armina . . .”
Armina cast a devilish look over her shoulder. “I was only funning you. I got my sea legs back. Me and Kip will walk around and peck on the window. That’ll call her out. Mayhaps I’ll fix some morels for lunch. Serve her for a change.”
Lilly shook her head. “Armina, you really shouldn’t be foraging for mushrooms.”
“Didn’t. There were a brown-paper poke of them spang in the middle of my porch this morning. The bag looked like a big old wilted frog. Somebody didn’t want them to go to waste, I expect.”
Lilly couldn’t resist. “I’ll bet Mr. Tippen left them for you.”
“Humph. Then I’ll pitch them out
—paper poke and all.”
“Waste not, want not,” Lilly preached Armina’s favorite sermon.
“If I thought Turnip brung them, I’d take them over to
Anne’s and feed them to that fat sow she keeps under the porch. I ain’t seen Anne in a coon’s age.” Armina adjusted the cracked leather purse strap over her shoulder. “I’d like to have me a fat old hog
—and a cow. I’ve a mind to get me a cow,” she said as she took her leave.
The frisson of unease that pricked Lilly earlier returned. The berry bucket, Anne
—Armina’s mind was laying down clues, bits of information it had stored in a deep, dark recess now coming forward, mingling with things Armina had probably overheard. What might happen when her fragile being remembered what had driven her to snatch baby Glory?
A shard of glass glinted on the threshold. Lilly bent to pick it up. She held it to the light as if there were great truth to discern there. A tiny rainbow sparkled atop the research books resting beside the kitty-corner charts on the desktop. When Lilly moved the glass, the rainbow disappeared. Laying the shard on the windowsill, she reached for a chart only to be interrupted once again.
The next patient filled the doorway, truly filled it. Bobby Bumble stumbled in. Lilly could barely see his sparrowlike mother behind him. Even though the chair was extra large, Bobby’s egg-shaped body barely fit the space between the armrests. The nurse put his chart in front of Lilly.
With a quick read, Lilly refreshed her memory. “How’s that sore throat, Bobby?”
“He cain’t hardly eat a bite,” Mrs. Bumble interjected, flitting around behind her son, smoothing his hair and
straightening his collar. “And see here? He’s got this swole place on his neck.” She pressed two fingertips below his double chin.
Lilly took two tongue depressors from a jar. “Turn your chair this way, Bobby.”
Bobby swiveled the chair on its casters as Lilly pulled up another straight-backed one. She sat down facing Bobby and handed him one of the depressors. “If you’ll let me look at your throat, you can take this depressor home.” That always worked with him.
“Quinsy again, ain’t it?” Bobby’s mother said as Lilly probed the depths.
“We’ve talked about this before, Mrs. Bumble. These tonsils need to come out.”
“I cain’t do it. I just cain’t put him through that.”
“Do you need more salicylate of soda? Was he able to gargle with that?”
“We could use some more if it ain’t no trouble. You done good this morning, didn’t you, Son?” Mrs. Bumble put her hand straight against the side of her mouth, as if Bobby couldn’t hear her if she spoke behind a shield. “I made him gargle before I would fix him his breakfast.”
Lilly studied Mrs. Bumble. Bobby was well cared for, except for his obesity, but his mother was elderly, already stooped from rheumatism. Who would take him if, God forbid, something happened to his mother? Had she made any provision? “Doesn’t his sore throat keep him from eating?”
“Not if I make gravy. Gravy’s your favorite thing, ain’t it?”
Bobby flipped the tongue depressor against his hand.
“He loves them things,” Mrs. Bumble said, motioning for Bobby to stand. “Thank you kindly, Doc Still. Say thank you, Bobby.”
He graced Lilly with a lopsided smile. His mother patted a bit of drool from his chin.
“I’ll stop by one day if that’s all right,” Lilly said as she stood and went to the cabinet to get the needed soda. It would be easier to talk about Bobby’s future if Mrs. Bumble was in her own home.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Son?” Mrs. Bumble put the packet of medicine in her pocket. “Come on, Bobby. Let’s go to the store.” She shielded her mouth again. “The clerk always gives him lemon drops.”
Monday progressed
as Mondays do. Lilly saw three more patients before noon: a case of colic, a fractured thumb, and a terrible bout of shingles. Her stomach grumbled. Amid the chaos of the morning, she’d had only an apple and a piece of cheese for breakfast.
Outside the window, Turnip Tippen tapped on the remaining glass. He motioned for Lilly to come.
He had pried a section of the frame loose with a crowbar. “See this here?” The wood was powdery and riddled with holes. “This is all et up by termites. It would pay you to fix the whole shebang now whilst I’m here.”
“How long would it take?”
Standing back, he mopped sweat from his brow with a blue bandanna. “Oh, three shakes of a dead sheep’s tail and I’ll be done with this here project. I’ll need to smoke the foundation with brimstone, though, else the bugs will keep munching until all you got’s a pile of woodchips. The smoking will take a while longer.”
Forevermore, this day was bringing nothing but trouble. “Let me check with my nurse. Maybe I can close up shop for the afternoon
—get everybody out of your way.”
Mr. Tippen stuffed the bandanna in the back pocket of his overalls. “I’ll be back
—gotta fetch the rest of my tools and stop over to the lumberyard.”
Lilly was glad to turn her key in the lock
—very glad for an afternoon off. Her linen bag, full of the unfiled charts and the research books she wanted to peruse, hung heavily from her arm. Heat shimmered like a desert mirage from the ground. Birds sat listlessly in the trees, too hot to sing. Under the shade of a maple tree, an old hound dog raised his heavy eyes to watch her pass by. The taffeta silk dress she wore clung uncomfortably to her back and swished limply around her ankles. Oh, for her usual attire to protect against the noonday sun. Her boxy linen jacket didn’t help, but it would be unseemly not to wear it. The whole day had been off. It would be good to get home.
Momentarily she considered swinging by the beauty shop to see if her sister was still there, but she decided against it. Mazy would see the Closed sign in the office window and
know to come on home. Lilly could have a light lunch prepared by then.
She stopped to fetch Kip from Armina’s. Could that be an actual conversation she heard through the open window? Hannah’s carpetbag and a small train case were just outside the door. Lilly knocked.
Armina insisted on wrapping some of the cornmeal-battered, deep-fried morels in newspaper for Lilly to take home. Hannah added a bowl of coleslaw and a round of red-crusted grainy corn bread to her haul. Suddenly weak from hunger, Lilly hastened across the road. Kip beat her to the porch.
As soon as she made it to the kitchen, Lilly tore a piece of the bread from the round and stuffed it into her mouth like a savage.
Oh, my word . . .
It was the best she’d ever tasted. Taking a saucer from Kip’s stack, she put a small piece of bread on the floor, then went to the icebox and poured a glass of milk from the pressed-glass pitcher on the top shelf. The butter she wanted for her bread was hard as rock, so she set it on the drain board to soften. Kip left the saucer rattling on the floor to follow Lilly to her bedroom.
The clothing from the upended box was folded neatly on the dresser bench and there was not a mouse in sight. Timmy had earned his quarter. Lilly pulled her dress over her head. Between sips of milk, she patted perspiration stains from the underarms of the garment with a rag dipped in cold water. Wearing her good dresses to work was simply not doable. Besides being uncomfortable and unprofessional,
they would be ruined
—not to mention, at the rate she was going, quickly stretched out of shape.
Lying back on the bed, she closed her eyes. What was she to do? She couldn’t very well go to work in her chemise. The rapid growth of this baby had caught her off guard. She was nearly this far along when she lost her first pregnancy, but she’d remained as flat as an ironing board. It seemed she should have had plenty of time to get her wardrobe ready. You would think a doctor would have more sense than to believe any two pregnancies would progress alike. She was probably right that this was a hefty boy baby.
She smiled to think how Tern would laugh, how delighted he would be. “Lord, thank You for this wondrous blessing,” she prayed. “Forgive the foolish risk I took this morning. Help me to keep this little one safe. Help me to nourish and sustain him.”
Without rising, Lilly took her Bible from the nightstand and, holding it aloft, flipped through the concordance in the back. Goodness, why was the print so tiny? The word
womb
was followed by several Scriptures.
She turned to the first one listed, Genesis 49:25, and read aloud: “‘Even by the God of thy father, who shall help thee; and by the Almighty, who shall bless thee with blessings of heaven above, blessings of the deep that lieth under, blessings of the breasts, and of the womb.’”
Against a sudden spurt of tears, she closed the Bible and laid it on the bedspread, covering her eyes in the crook of her elbow. Scripture often reduced her to tears in this way. As a
girl, she’d wondered how God had time amid unending wars and upheaving weather and His million daily tasks to speak to her, an insignificant bug of a girl. The Word, His Word, brought the Lord so near, it frightened her but at the same time delighted her.
She remembered explaining this to her mother, who’d only said, “Hmmm” as she stirred a steaming pot on the stove. Mama had waited until pitch-dark to answer Lilly’s questions.
As if it were yesterday, Lilly could feel the dew-soaked grass against her bare feet as Mama led her deep into the meadow beside the barn. She spread a worn quilt atop the tall grass and bade Lilly to lie down beside her.
In her patient way, Mama had waited until the world receded, drawing away like a skim of cream until there was nothing between them and heaven but a trillion shining stars. She took Lilly’s hand in her own. “You are not a bug to the Lord, my darling daughter. You are a brilliant star, an integral part of God’s holy universe.”
“But bugs are important too, right? God made bugs, too.”
Mama had laughed and drawn Lilly so close that she could feel the beat of her heart against her cheek. “Girl, someday you’re going to ask one too many questions.”
“But how do I know, Mama?” Lilly persisted, reaching out to touch a star. “How do I know I’m more important to God than a katydid or a grasshopper?”
“We know because God didn’t give His Book to the bugs. Just hush, and let Him reveal Himself to you.”
Now, as Lilly rested on her comfortable bed, Kip jumped up beside her, settled down, and laid his head on her chest. Usually when she was lying on her back, he would stand on her chest with front feet on her breastbone and hind feet on her belly, gazing down until she gave in and got up. He was being uncharacteristically gentle. Lilly scratched behind his ears just the way he liked. “So you’ve already figured it out, Kip. How did you get so smart?”
Kip rolled his eyes as if to say,
“Who do you think you’re fooling?”
The dog had begun snoring and Lilly was drifting into a pleasant dream when the sound of weeping woke her. Disoriented, she sat up. Kip headed out the door. She could hear his nails clicking on the polished wood floor down the hall to Mazy’s room. Pulling on a plain princess wrapper, Lilly followed fast behind.
Mazy was a sodden heap in the middle of her unmade bed. A Turkish towel was knotted on her head.
“Mazy? Whatever is the matter?”
“I’m ruined, Lilly, simply ruined.” Turning her face into her pillow, she sobbed, “I can never go outside these doors again. I’m going to die a lonely old maid right in this room.”
“Sweetheart, it can’t be as bad as all that. Let me see.”
Mazy swept the towel from her head dramatically. Her hair was indeed different, just as she’d wished, but it didn’t lie like shiny silk upon her shoulders. Instead, a frizzy halo of yellowish stubble sprung crazily from her scalp. She looked like an angel gone awry.
Lilly clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Mazy.”
“See? I told you,” she said, hiccuping amid fresh tears. “Today’s word is
disaster
. Now I’m broke and bald both.”
“Are you burned? Come in the kitchen, where I can see you better.”
Mazy bent over the sink while Lilly poured water mixed with baking soda from the same box she’d used on Timmy over her head. “Your scalp has first-degree burns, Mazy. We’ll be lucky if your hair doesn’t all fall out.”
Mazy wailed, “Why did you let me do this, Lilly?”
“Just be glad Mama isn’t here,” Lilly said, wrapping her sister’s head in a fresh towel. “She’d turn you over her knee.”
“Doc Still?”
They both whipped around. Mazy’s towel fell to the floor. Forevermore, there stood Chanis Clay in the door Mazy had left wide open.
His hand rested on the butt of his gun. “I heard someone yelling.”
It seemed neither of the women could find their voice. What a picture they must make, two soggy sisters in a cloud of soda powder. Poor Chanis. He might as well see what he was getting into if he pursued Miss Mazy Pelfrey.
Mazy lifted her chin. “I’ve been to the beauty parlor,” she said inanely.
Chanis nodded, his face poker blank. “You’ve cut your hair.”
You can tell he has sisters,
Lilly thought.
“I can’t go out with you again for at least a year,” Mazy said.
“Let me go get my sister,” he said. “She’s studied fixing hair and all that girlie stuff.”
Mazy’s chin trembled. “This is the ugliest I’ll ever be, Chanis.”
“Then I’m a lucky guy,” he said, turning on his heel.
Mazy kicked at the towel. “It’s not fair. Men always get to leave.”
Lilly slid the towel around the floor with one foot, mopping up the mess they’d made. “Sometimes it seems that way.”
“Why is it, Lilly, that he can look so good doing nothing but standing there, and meanwhile my head looks like a circus clown because I wanted to be pretty?”
Lilly sidestepped Kip, who was busy tracking something through the baking soda dust. “Are you and Chanis getting serious?”
“He makes my heart go wobbly. That must be serious.”
Lilly did not want to get into this today
—but opportunity had knocked. “Mazy, has Mama talked to you about . . . things?”
“I’m afraid so. It is more than strange to contemplate. I suppose that’s why your heart gets wobbly
—else it would never happen.”
Lilly took her sister’s heart-shaped face in her hands. “The wobbly part is what gets girls in trouble. That part’s for after you are married.”
“Don’t worry, Lilly. Daddy talked to me too.”
This was bound to be good, Lilly thought.
Mazy giggled. “You won’t believe what he did. He took
Molly and me to the fishpond and said he’d pitch us in if we ever brought trouble home.”
“You’re right. I can’t picture our sweet daddy threatening you. What did you and Molly say?”
“Nothing. We just pushed him in the pond and hightailed it home.”
Lilly laughed so hard she nearly got a stitch. “Oh, my goodness, I wish I could have seen that. How did Mama react?”
“She never knew. He came in all covered in mud, carrying a turtle for supper. It was tasty.”
Suddenly a darting gray mat of fur trailing a long hairless tail ran over Lilly’s foot. “Yeep,” she yelled as if she’d never seen a mouse before. Mazy jumped, screaming, onto a chair. Kip barked, pounced, and missed.
Lilly hurried to open the screen door Chanis had closed. Sensing his chance, the mouse raced right through.
Whap!
The business end of a broom wielded by Armina dispatched the poor thing to its reward.
Armina narrowed her eyes at the sight of the messy kitchen. “I can see you’ve been a-needing me.”