Rorey's Secret (18 page)

“I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Will Rorey get in trouble?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Then she’s gonna be real mad at me.”

“She might be real mad at me too, before it’s all done.”

“Will you still play with me, even if Rorey gets mad?” “Yes. I’ll play with you.”

She took my hand. Apparently, my promise was enough to make her feel better about the whole thing. She bounced a couple of steps, leading me over toward the corner where we could see Janie May a little better.

“She’s gonna pull her bandage clear off!” Emmie exclaimed. “Don’t she know it’s there so she can get better?”

“Sometimes goats don’t know no better than people what’s good for them, Emmie.”

Emmie Grace looked at me with her head tilted sideways. “That’s kind of a funny thing t’ say.”

“Maybe so. But it’s true.”

Emmie’s pa and most of her brothers were leaving to go back over to their farm. Emmie didn’t ask to go with them, but she went racing over there to hug most every one of them good-bye. Mom came over too and told them to come back for supper and to stay the night if they needed to.

“I need to talk to you when you get the chance,” Mom told Mr. Hammond, and that made me feel cold inside.
Rorey’s gonna think I told on her, and it wasn’t even me!

“I ain’t in no mood for more talkin’, Mrs. Wortham,” Rorey’s father replied. “Ain’t nothin’ more to be said.” He turned his back and started walking off through the timber. Kirk went with him, but Harry and Sam and Willy went with Pastor and Robert in our truck and the pastor’s car. Mr. and Mrs. Post were leaving too. Mrs. Pastor gave Mom a big hug and explained that they had to go and see Mrs. Howell. Seemed like everybody was leaving, except Thelma and her mother and the kids.

We could hear the baby crying inside. Emmie looked that way and then up at me. “I could sing to her,” she offered.

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure Thelma would like that.”

She smiled and went running inside.

Mom just stood there watching Robert drive off with the Hammonds. I wondered if she thought Mr. Hammond was rude for talking to her the way he did. “Did Rorey leave already?” I asked her.

“I guess so. She’s certainly making herself scarce lately, isn’t she?”

I felt her eyes on me before I even looked. “Mom . . .”

“I know you were going to tell me, Sarah. I know it was Lester Turrey who beat up Frank. But I don’t know why you waited.”

I didn’t know what to say. How much had Franky told her? “I wasn’t for sure it was him,” I said quietly, almost hoping Franky’d told on his sister and not just Lester.

“Did Rorey know?”

“She—she wasn’t for sure either,” I stammered. “She only figured it was prob’ly him.” It was suddenly hard to talk. I was feeling all tight inside, remembering Rorey’s urgent face.
“Promise me, Sarah. Promise you won’t tell!”

“I understand she was upset with Franky. Over Lester, I suppose. She must really like the boy.”

“I—I guess so. Kind of.” I took a deep breath. At least Mom wasn’t making this too hard. Maybe all I’d have to do was answer her questions. Maybe she already had everything figured out, so I could honestly say it wasn’t me who told.

“Apparently she likes him enough to sneak out and see him without permission.”

“Yeah.” Franky’d told, all right. And I was glad, no matter how mad Rorey would be.

“Has she seen him more than once?”

Now was the perfect time to tell about Rorey’s plans to meet Lester in the barn. It was right there in my mouth to say. I felt like I was choking on it, but it wouldn’t come out. And what I said instead wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “They met last week. She . . . she said he didn’t come any other time.”

“You’re sure?”

I nodded my head while my heart thumped and screamed at me.
Why? Why aren’t you telling?

Because I wanted to believe her. She’d told me plain out Lester hadn’t come. That he hadn’t been there.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this days ago?” Mom persisted.

“I only found out yesterday. After supper when we were talking. And . . . and I think she’s kind of dumb to get a boyfriend when she’s only thirteen.”

“Then she wants to see him again?”

“I—I don’t know. Maybe not.”
That’s no lie either,
I told myself.
After the fire and all, I don’t really know what she’s thinking. Maybe she’s had time to consider how stupid it all is. Maybe she’s even mad at Lester for not showing up.

Mom was still looking at me. “Well, if Rorey doesn’t care to see Lester again, why would Lester care enough to beat her brother up over it?”

“He’s just mean, Mom! He’s just plain mean! That’s all it is. He likes to do stuff like that. He was the worst bully our school had, an’ he never did like Frank. Maybe Rorey was just his excuse!”

I wanted to run. I wanted to run clear out in the woods like Franky’d done, only I hoped nobody’d follow
me
. Maybe I was afraid. Maybe I was afraid of Lester pulling my hair again, or throwing my lunch pail in the mud, or worse. Maybe I was even afraid of Rorey teasing me, hating me, turning her back on me.

Why couldn’t I just come right out and tell Mom about last night? It wouldn’t be my fault if people stopped pointing at Franky and blamed Rorey for the fire. Because maybe
she’d
been the one in the barn, waiting for her “boyfriend” to show up.

But I couldn’t manage to say anything. I didn’t really know what had happened. I needed to talk to Rorey again. I needed to know for sure if she was telling me the truth about everything before I told anybody otherwise. I was just trying to be fair. That was all.

“Sarah?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“I know it puts you in a difficult spot for me to ask you what your friend told you in confidence, but I’m sure you understand that something like this is too important to be kept from parents. Lester was hard on Franky, and Rorey is far too young to know what she’s getting into, especially with an older boy with less than desirable behavior.”

“I know.”

“I want you to tell me, promptly, if you hear anything more about him coming around or her trying to see him. All right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have to tell Mr. Hammond, even if Franky won’t. He needs to know who attacked his son and why. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes. But what will Mr. Hammond do?”

“I don’t know. But that’s not up to us, is it?”

I stood quiet for a minute. Mr. Hammond had walked off, not wanting to listen. Maybe he would keep on not wanting to hear a word about it. He hadn’t bothered to find out who fought at Franky, that was for sure. I didn’t think he’d even asked.

“Mom, what if he doesn’t care? He didn’t act like he cared about Franky getting hurt. And Rorey said her mom was only thirteen when him and her got together. What if he doesn’t even care?”

“Rorey thinks he will, or she wouldn’t want it kept a secret.”

“I guess not. But . . . but maybe she won’t meet with Lester no more. I promise I’ll tell her all over again that she shouldn’t.”

“I’m sure you will. And I hope she has the sense to agree with you. But we still need to tell her father.”

“We?”

She smiled, just a tiny bit. “I can do it, Sarah. I know he’s difficult to talk to sometimes. Just make sure you come to one of us next time if this keeps up.”

“I will, Mom.”

“One more thing: did you call Franky a sourpuss?”

“No, ma’am,” I said, knowing Emma Grace must have mentioned that. “I was just asking Rorey how come she did. I guess she’s wanting to feel all grown up and not have no big brothers watching over her.”

“She’s blessed to have big brothers, especially ones who care.”

“I know it. I think Frank’s all right. Just different, that’s all.”

“You’re a good girl, Sarah,” she told me, turning back to the house. “Thank you.”

I stood there, just watching my mother walk away. I knew she was going to check on Daddy again, thinking I’d told her everything. My stomach felt all scrunched sideways. What was the matter with me, anyway?

15

Julia

I’d thought it would be a relief to have so many gone, at least for a while, but now I only wondered what they would find over there and how George would manage after losing so much of his livestock and equipment.

When I came in, Delores was rocking the baby and Emmie was kneeling beside them singing a sweet little song. Probably one she made up. Kate was chasing down Georgie, trying to get him to quit jumping on the stairs. And Thelma was at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a slice of the rhubarb cake Louise had brought.

“Are you hungry, Mrs. Wortham?” she asked.

“No, not at all.”

“I’m not either, but Mama keeps pushin’ me to eat somethin’. I can’t hardly, though.”

“Why not?”

“All this is botherin’ me too much. My Sammy said it’s gonna be a hard winter for you if your husband ain’t full strength, plus the loss of the field crops and Pa Hammond’s livestock makin’ it pretty hard on them. He’d like to help his pa and you both, but I don’t see how we can.”

“Thelma, winter is two months from now—”

“Maybe less. Lot a’ times, it turns cold in November, an’ that ain’t but a couple a’ weeks away.”

Why did she have to talk like this? As if my own head weren’t giving me enough reminders. I hadn’t let it concern me before. But today, the worries just kept creeping at me, over and over. It’d been an awful year for the gardens, and now most of what was left in the fields was gone. Such thoughts were plaguing me, surely as much as they were her. But I wouldn’t speak my doubt.

“We’ll get by. The Lord’ll provide, Thelma. We’ve had hard times before. And I’m sure Samuel will be just fine soon enough. He’s talking fine already and anxious to get out of that bed.”

“Mama said he was sleepin’ again. I reckon that’s good, ’cause they say rest’s a fine medicine, but I’m awful sorry all this had to happen. I can hardly b’lieve you’ve stayed so calm. I think I’d be half frazzled.”

I didn’t say a word more to her. I walked to Samuel’s room, hoping Thelma and her mother were wrong. Rest was a fine medicine, I knew it to be so. But I was still hoping to find Samuel awake, if for no other reason than to rest my heart with his sensible words. After all, if he was talking to me, if he was just being himself, I could feel sure that he was already all right. I walked in anxious, hoping to be greeted by his smile.

But he was sleeping again, just like she’d said. I knew better than to let it worry me. I knew I should just keep on thanking God that he was all right, but my heart felt heavy that he was lying so still. I didn’t like it one bit. How could he sleep again, so soon, and really be okay?

“Samuel?”

I was feeling foolish for trying to disturb him, but at the same time praying he’d open his eyes. He didn’t. Even when I called his name a second time. A tiny chunk of the ice was left in a bowl on the bedside table, and I picked it up with the dripping cloth it was wrapped in and laid it against his head.

He didn’t move.

What were those words, that wonderful psalm Franky had been quoting?

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

Psalm 91. I remembered it now. But for some reason, when I tried to recall more of the words, they all jumbled in my mind with another psalm that was so familiar.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul . . .

Samuel didn’t stir, not so much as an eyelash. And I wanted to have complete confidence that the Lord of the psalms would restore, give us still waters, and hide us under the shelter of his wings. But my own heart would not obey me. Despite all the confidence I wanted, all the faith I thought I should muster, I knew I was falling short.

What if the bruised ribs had made something bleed inside? What if something had swelled in his brain, and that was why he wasn’t awake?

I felt like screaming at myself for worrying this way. It was senseless. It was just not right. But I was doing it anyway. I could feel it even as I tried my best to return my mind to Franky’s psalm.

I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.

One day perhaps I would laugh at myself, or at least shake my head over having such a struggle. But at that moment it was hard. It was beyond me, like two giant hands tugging my mind in opposite directions.

Surely he shall deliver thee . . .

But what about all those things the doctor had said? Should we have taken him to the hospital after all?

He shall cover thee with his feathers . . .

But what if he can’t wake up this time?

Thou shalt not be afraid . . .

I had to do something else. I had to put my mind to something. But Delores and Katie were taking care of Thelma and the little children. We had some baking done and plenty of food fixed, thanks to Louise. Berty was all right sitting with a book by the sitting room windows. Nothing was really pressing for my attention.

Besides, as much as my mind was warring about it, I still didn’t want to leave Samuel’s side, at least not for long. So I went and got paper from a box in the cupboard and a pen that the schoolteacher had given me once. I sat in the rocker at the corner of our bedroom and started drafting a letter to Samuel’s mother. I guess I just poured my thoughts down more than anything else.

Dear Joanna,

Samuel is in bed today. Last night he saved the neighbor boy out of their burning barn, but part of the structure collapsed and Samuel was injured. The doctor tells us he should recover, but he has a head injury, possibly broken ribs, and his right leg has a frightful gash. The rest of us have been worried, but we trust that the Lord will work all to the good. By the grace of God things are not worse, as no one was killed, and the boy is getting along all right with a sprained ankle. Samuel has been awake off and on, and once he asked about you. I felt that you would want to know. Please tell cousin Dewey what has happened if you have any opportunity. You are in our thoughts often.