Rachel's Prayer (27 page)

“You men know I got another boy wounded?” Mr. Hammond asked them, his voice low and strange.

“No, sir,” the younger man said. “We’re so sorry.”

“I didn’t know which one you were gonna tell me,” he mumbled just enough to be heard. “I didn’t know which way it was gonna be.”

“Sir,” one of the men repeated. “We’re very sorry.”

“You said that.”

But the soldier’s sad voice went on to confirm the things none of us had wanted to hear. “On March seventeen of nineteen hundred and forty-two, Lieutenant Joseph W. Hammond was killed in the line of duty as a result of direct engagement with the enemy in the Philippine Islands. Lieutenant Hammond fought bravely and hazarded himself for the lives of his men. His fellow soldiers and countrymen shall be eternally grateful for his courageous and selfless service. Our deepest sympathy, sir, to you and your—”

“You’d best leave now,” Mr. Hammond interrupted. “You’ve done said your piece.”

“Your son will not be forgotten, sir,” the closest man tried to continue. “Neither will your sacrifice. May God bless and help you.”

“Go,” Mr. Hammond said impatiently.

I stood tense, my heart pounding, knowing that he wasn’t nearly so steady as he was trying to sound. I could see the awful hurt in him, plain as day. But it was just as plain in Frank, who still held his father’s arm, his silver-gray eyes looking like storm clouds.
Help them, Lord,
I prayed again.
Oh, God, help.

Both of the uniformed men put on their hats, but one of them looked straight at Frank before he turned for the door.

“Thank you,” Frank said barely loud enough for me to hear it. “Thank you, sirs, for comin’.” His eyes filled with tears.

Solemnly, the soldiers turned away. Mr. Hammond stood stiff as a statue.

“Oh, Pa,” Frank said as the men went out the door. I knew he wanted to hug his father. I saw him try. But Mr. Hammond only pushed him away.

“I tol’ you!” he yelled. “I tol’ you they wasn’t comin’ home!”

“Pa—”

Whatever it was Frank might have said, his father didn’t give him a chance. He spun around and shoved Frank so hard that he fell into another chair. “Keep your mouth shut, boy! Jus’ keep your mouth shut!”

My insides were in knots, my heart was thumping so hard in my throat that it hurt. I started to move forward, but Frank’s look held me back. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t imagine any man coming apart so bad that he’d light into one of his kids at a time like this.

“The Lord’s punishin’ me,” Mr. Hammond said then. “He’s gonna take ever’ one—”

“No, Pa,” Frank stopped him bravely. “The good Lord ain’t to blame.” He pulled himself to his feet, and I saw him move a little forward, putting himself between his father and the outside door.

Mr. Hammond just stared at Frank. I never saw him look that bad, ever. “If it ain’t God, jus’ how do you think you can explain this, huh, boy? How?”

“Evil,” Frank said in a quiet voice. “The enemy, jus’ like the man said.” He looked so broken. But he wouldn’t take his eyes off his father. “Sit down. Please, Pa. Sarah’s gonna make us some coffee. We gotta lot to think about—”

“Shut up.” He stood motionless again, still staring at Frank.

Not sure what else to do, I went and grabbed a pot and put it on the warm stove, thinking I’d better help Frank by doing what he said and making his father some coffee. Maybe he’d sit. Maybe he’d calm enough to let everybody grieve instead of holding his boys captive like this just wondering what he was going to do. I prayed he’d sit. I was scared, really scared of what he might do if he didn’t, and I knew Frank and Bert were too.

He moved toward the door, and Frank made sure to stay in front of him.

“Don’t ride off, Pa. Please don’t ride off.”

“What difference does it make? Answer me that!”

“Harry an’ Emmie’ll be home after a while. You need to be here, Pa. Please. Drinkin’ ain’t gonna solve nothin’.”

Bert stood with his cheeks wet with tears.
They all oughta be hugging one another,
I thought. Mr. Hammond ought to hold his boys and comfort them instead of being so hateful. But he answered Frank with a stream of curses.

“Get out of my way.”

“Pa . . .”

I saw Mr. Hammond’s fist go up, and I knew he was gonna hit Frank again. I couldn’t let it be. I absolutely couldn’t. Faster than I knew I could move, I ran up and grabbed at that arm, surprising myself with a boldness I’d never known I had.

“No! Frank and Bert’s already hurting just as bad as you are! Don’t you go making it worse! Don’t you go hitting anybody or taking off and making them fret for you when there’s so much else to sorrow about.”

He stared at me, and his face was strange, like somebody I didn’t even know. “You’re your daddy’s girl, ain’t you?”

Frank came up beside me. He took my hand and moved almost in front of me. “She’s just talkin’ sense,” he said, and I realized that he was so unsure of his father that he was ready to protect me if he had to.

But George Hammond laughed. “Picture the two a’ you. I never thought I’d see the like.”

He turned around from us, and I could only stare. I could not imagine anyone laughing at a time like this. Emmie had told me months ago that their father was not well. Bad news shook him. Clear off his foundations. I looked at Frank, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off his father. Bert stood near his chair, watching just as intently.

“Ah, Worthams!” Mr. Hammond exclaimed. “What would we ever do without Worthams? Now if it don’t look like God’s done sent a young’un to set me right. I s’pose you’ll tell your pa on me, won’t you, girl? You might as well tell him that it’s jus’ like I said. It’s all done. Wilametta’s waitin’ to meet ’em . . .”

He walked back into the bedroom without another word and shut the door behind him. Bert sunk back into his chair. But I just stood there, looking at Frank.

“What are we gonna do?” Bert asked, his voice sounding horrible broken. Frank moved to his side and put his arm around his shoulder.

“We’re gonna be strong for the rest, that’s what we’re gonna do,” he answered. “That’s what Joe’d want. Don’t you think so?”

Berty tried awful hard, but he couldn’t stop the tears. He nodded anyway, and Frank leaned into him with a full embrace.

“It’s okay. It’s okay to cry,” Frank told his brother. “The pastor says it is, an’ you’ve seen him at it, ain’t you?”

Berty nodded again.

“We ain’t gonna be able to help it for a while. We ain’t gonna be able to help a lot a’ feelin’s. But we gotta do the best we can. You’re almost a man, Bert. Writin’ for the newspaper an’ everythin’. I’m so proud a’ you I can’t even say how much.” He stopped a minute, struggling for more words. “I need your help. I know it hurts. It ain’t gonna stop hurtin’. But we got Emmie comin’ home this afternoon, an’ she’s jus’ a little thing. An’ Harry. An’ he’s like Pa in that he’s more liable to hit somethin’ than let hisself cry. An’ Rorey, an’ you know there ain’t no tellin’ ’bout her—”

“What . . . what can I do?”

“If you can—if you’re feelin’ better—take Sarah home for me. Tell Mrs. Wortham what happened. I know she’s hurtin’ too. They got their own problems. But tell her that we need her or Mr. Wortham here for a while tonight, if they can manage it. An’ I need ’em to get word to the pastor an’ Sam and Lizbeth, or maybe you could go to the Posts an’ ask them to go—”

“Frank,” I told him then. “I can do all that. Bert can stay here.”

“No, Sarah Jean,” he said real solemn. “You don’t know how to handle the horses. I need Bert to take ’em an’ leave ’em there. Please.”

His strange eyes were like stormy pools, and I could scarcely bear to look at them.
Oh, Frank,
I wanted to ask him.
What more are you afraid of? If your pa wants to drink so bad, what would be the harm of just letting him go? He’ll get drunk. Maybe he’ll cry his eyes out. And then he’ll come home.
But I couldn’t speak those things. There was something about Frank right now that I just couldn’t argue with. Neither could Bert. He nodded his head and dried his whole face on his sleeve, and then he got up to get his coat.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Frank told me. “More’n I can say. Thank you.”

Reluctantly, I left Frank alone with his father and went with Bert to tell my mother the most heartbreaking news I’d ever carried. I knew she’d drop everything to do what Frank asked. She’d do it even without him asking. She’d probably send me to ask the Posts to take the word into town so she could start back here with Bert right away and be here even before the kids got home from school.

Bert was coughing something terrible, but neither of us had taken the time to get the rest of his tonic down him. I knew my mother would handle that later. She would know far better than me what to do.

26

Frank

Bert and Sarah Jean were quick about leaving, and I was glad. But I stood looking around me at our house, and it seemed so empty I wanted to scream. I should’ve been prepared for this. I’d thought I was. But the news had still come and hit us broadside. Maybe there was no preparing. I felt like I’d been picked up and slammed sideways all over again. I needed to pray, to set my head straight about all this before seein’ anybody else, or even talking to Pa again. I knew he’d try leaving. Only Sarah being here and being so bold with him had stopped him, but I wasn’t sure anythin’ would stop him the next time.

I got on my knees, trying to put my thinkin’ together.
Thank you. For Sarah being here. For her to be comfort to Bert on the way over there. For her to help getting us her folks here, ’cause I know we’ll need ’em.

I stopped, thinkin’ about Joe’s smiling face, about him pickin’ up Emmie when she was a baby, racing Harry ’round the woodshed, or even hitching the wagon to take all of us to church. Joe was the big brother I could talk to the best. He was the one who’d stayed with me the most when my leg was broke. He was the one most likely to stand in my defense when all the other boys I knew only gave me a hard time.

It was hard not to cry about all that. It was hard not to be fierce upset at God for all the things that had happened. But it wasn’t God’s fault; I told myself the same thing I’d told my pa. God doesn’t cause the pain in this world. He helps us bear it. He gives us a way out.
Thank you,
I told God, even though the words came out hard.
Thank you that Joe’s not suffering. That he’s not been months tortured or half starved or laying someplace in pain. Thank you that he’s with Mama, and with you. Because he’s in the good place. He can’t be hurt anymore.

My eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t hold them back.

But then I heard the bed creak in Pa’s room, and I knew he was gettin’ up again.
God, help me. Help Pa! I can’t just let him take off. I don’t know what he’ll do after all the things he said before. But I don’t know if I can stop him.

Pa’s door opened up slow, and he looked out at me. I wiped at my eyes real quick and thanked God I’d sent Bert off with the horses.

Pa looked terrible, like the grief and hard thoughts had already sapped him dry. “I weren’t sure,” he said kind of low. “I weren’t sure they wouldn’t be talkin’ ’bout Willy.”

“Me neither, Pa.”

He come walkin’ out to the setting room, but instead of taking a chair he went over to the wall for his coat that was hangin’ on a hook. “We got that to face eventually, you know.”

“It won’t be the same,” I tried to assure him. “Willy’ll be all right.” I was surprised he was talkin’ as calm as he was to me. But he was putting on his coat, and I knew what that meant. I stood up. “Pa, you can’t be goin’ nowhere. I sent the horses with Bert.”

“I know that. You think I care? You think you’re clever, boy, but it ain’t gonna stop me.”

“Pa . . . please . . .”

He looked at me awful hard. “We been through this before. If that Sarah Wortham hadn’t a’ been here, I’d already be gone. An’ I ain’t afraid a’ walkin’. What do you think you’re gonna do? You can’t stop me. I can shove you outta the way an’ keep on goin’.”

I got in his path again, even though I knew he might bust me good the way he would’ve done if Sarah Jean hadn’t grabbed his arm before. But I didn’t really care if he hit me. I could see in his eyes that it wasn’t his right mind talking, and if there was any way under God’s heaven I could stop him from leavin’, I’d do it. It was a gut hurt of some kind, a knowin’ that if I let Pa go in this kind of state, it’d all be done. I didn’t understand it. I could only think of Emmie and the others and what they already had to face. So I stuck myself between him and the door and braced for whatever he might do.

“Pa. Drinkin’ ain’t never solved nothing.”

“Get outta my way.”

“I ain’t lettin’ you go off alone. It ain’t right! Just like Sarah said!”

He took hold of my arm. His eyes were crazy angry. But for a minute he just stared at me, and I thought I seen somethin’ in him that weren’t so angry. Wild hurt. Like a scared critter caught in a corner.

“Pa . . .”

He shoved me, hard. It was all I could do to catch myself ’gainst the wall as he was openin’ the door.

“Pa!”

But he was already out. “You ain’t stoppin’ me, boy.”

My heart was thumpin’ so fast it hurt, but I run after him because there was nothin’ else I could do. He’d talked about being gone from us. He’d talked about leavin’ us for good. I didn’t know what was in his mind, but I couldn’t let it be. Not when everybody was gonna be hurtin’ so bad over Joe. It was like the world was rocked out from under us already. They didn’t need no other blow.

“Maybe I can’t stop you,” I hollered at him. “Maybe you won’t let me tell you a blame thing! But if you’re goin’, then I’m comin’ too! An’ you can’t stop
me
, Pa. There ain’t no way you can!”

He turned his head. “Doggone it, boy. You’re headstrong.” “Just like my pa.”

He stopped in his tracks. “You don’t wanna come, Franky.”

“I will if I have to. If you take off, I swear I’ll follow.” For a second, he almost choked up. “Why?”

“Because I love you, Pa. We need you. I gotta see that you come home. What else can I say?”

He shook his head. “You ain’t needed me a long time, boy. You work with Samuel Wortham. You make your own money. You do all right.”