Rorey's Secret (23 page)

“Are you doin’ all right?”

Samuel didn’t look all right sitting in a rocker in the kitchen with his head leaned on one pillow and another pillow against his side. But he wasn’t about to tell Bert anything that wasn’t positive. “Coming along fine,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I was just sitting here thinking it was time I put my hand to something around here and quit wasting the day.”

“Samuel—” I started to protest.

“Now just relax,” he told me. “I didn’t say I’d be running races. But if you could bring my polishing bag, maybe Katie’d carry me everyone’s shoes and Bert and I could get them all shined up for tomorrow.”

“Are you sure about this?” I asked him. Katie stood, waiting for his response.

“We can manage, can’t we, Bert?” he said. “Polishing’s a good sit-down job.”

I might have argued that the arm movement could aggravate Samuel’s ribs or that looking down at shoes might be a little hard on his aching head when he should be leaning it back, but Bert was smiling at the idea and I let it go. Maybe it would do them both good to be applying their hands to something. Especially Bert. And surely Samuel would know to quit if he got too tired.

Just as I expected, we heard our truck coming back around suppertime. Robert came in and got the milk bucket. He was so pleased to see his father sitting in the kitchen that I thought maybe that was why Samuel had done it. It took a load off Robert’s mind just to see Samuel out of bed. He and Willy went to start the chores together. I thought I caught a glimpse of Harry out the window, and I could hear Rorey on the porch, but she didn’t come in. And it wasn’t long before young Sam came walking through the door with his son on his shoulders and his mother-in-law following along behind.

“I oughta take my family on home,” he told us. “There ain’t enough thanks to be said for what all you done for us, but—”

“It’s just time,” Delores finished for him. “Time we had Thelma in her own bed and little Georgie back over t’ home again.”

“Are you sure the doctor would want Thelma up and traveling so soon?” I asked with genuine concern. “It’s not even been a full day.”

“She’s healthy,” Delores assured me. “Don’t you worry. Sam can carry her to the car, and once we’re home, I’ll have her straight to bed. I can stay a whole week, maybe two, an’ she won’t have to lift a finger.”

I had to admit it might make things a bit easier for us. “You’ll at least eat something here first, won’t you?” I asked them. “So you won’t have to fix something as soon as you get in the door?”

Sam and Delores both agreed. And Delores took Georgie in with his mommy and baby sister. Young Sam turned around a kitchen chair and sat in it.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to see what I can do to help Pa,” he said. “Ben an’ Lizbeth stayed over there even though he didn’t want ’em to ’cause he’s takin’ all this pretty hard, worryin’ for winter an’ everythin’ else. He tried to send us all back over here, but Lizbeth wouldn’t leave him alone.”

I well remembered George’s despairing behavior after losing Wilametta. He’d wanted to be alone then too. He’d taken to drink and come very close to suicide. But this was nothing like that, surely. A barn and outbuildings, and even the animals, were nothing like losing your wife. But I could tell it was bothering young Sam too.

“I’d a’ stayed if it weren’t for Thelma an’ the kids,” he told us. “Kirk an’ Rorey wanted to too, but he made ’em come on over. Said he didn’t want ’em in the house all night smellin’ the smoke, but it ain’t that bad.”

“Are Ben and Lizbeth planning to stay the night?” Samuel asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’ll be all right, then. For now.”

“I don’t think Lizbeth’ll go nowhere ’long as Pa’s depressed like this.”

“He won’t stay that way,” Samuel maintained. “It’ll come out all right.”

“I sure hope you’re right, Mr. Wortham. He’s feelin’ pretty bad about you too. I oughta stop over there on the way home an’ tell him you’re up. That ought to ease his mind.”

“You do that. Tell him I’m going to church in the morning and he ought to come too.”

I was warming up leftovers when Delores came back in the kitchen and started pulling plates down from the cupboard.

“How many here tonight, Julia?”

I had to count. “Five of us, plus seven Hammond children is twelve. Then there’s Sam’s four plus you. That makes seventeen, right? Of course, Rosemary won’t need a plate and Georgie ought to have a small one. The one with the rooster, please.”

“Goodness,” she said with a laugh. “That is a houseful.”

“I guess we’re used to it around here.”

I started hearing footsteps on the porch and knew it was Franky coming in. He had a different sound to his walk than any of the other boys. He opened the door and came in just as young Sam was telling Samuel about finding what was left of the spade and the posthole digger in the remains of the burned-out barn.

“Maybe they’ll be all right if we get some handles made,” Sam was saying. “And there ought to be more to salvage where the east wall was. Lot a’ tools was hanging up there.”

“I can make handles,” Franky said.

“Yeah. That’s what I told Pa,” Sam acknowledged. “But he wasn’t wantin’ to talk about that.”

Franky didn’t respond.

“What you been doin’ today, anyway?” Sam asked him.

“Workin’ on the cedar chest and chair me an’ Mr. Wortham’s s’posed to get out first a’ next week. Got the chest done.” His voice was quiet and his silvery eyes seemed far away.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” his older brother told him. “It was better you not being right there with Pa this afternoon.”

“George isn’t still blaming Franky, is he?” I said in dismay. “After talking to the pastor?” Too late, I realized we hadn’t told Samuel.

“Blaming him?” Samuel asked. “You mean for the fire?”

“I think he’s tryin’ to sort it out,” young Sam told us. “Pastor told him Franky ain’t one to lie. An’ I’d have to agree with that. But then, Rorey ain’t either. So I think maybe she just thought she had it figgered how it musta been—”

At that moment, Rorey walked in from the porch, and her brother stopped what he was saying.

“I know I must’ve missed some of what you’re talking about,” Samuel told us. “But accidents can happen, and there’s no sense casting blame on anyone.”

“Don’t seem like everybody agrees with you,” Franky said quietly.

Rorey looked over at him, and he turned his eyes to meet hers. Something unspoken passed between them. I wasn’t sure what, and I wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed it. But Rorey told us she was so awful tired that she didn’t think she could eat any supper. She went right upstairs.

Franky was still a sight with his sooty clothes and bruises and his two hands still wrapped in bandages. Maybe Rorey was feeling guilty over causing him so much trouble. First with Lester. And then with blaming him for the fire just because she’d seen that he was awake. She ought to have known better than to jump to conclusions like that. Maybe she should be feeling guilty. I decided I’d better go up and talk to her after a bit and see if she didn’t think she should apologize to her brother.

Little Georgie came sauntering back into the room, took one look at me, and commenced trying to pull on that apron again.

“You want a pickle?” I asked him. “They’re better than noisy pans any day.”

He shook his head and gave the immovable cupboard door quite a kick.

“Whoa, there,” his father told him. “That ain’t no way to act in Mrs. Wortham’s kitchen. You tell her you’re sorry this minute.”

“So’wy,” he told me with his big brown eyes looking my way. “Picka?”

“Oh, you do want one.” I picked out a nice juicy pickle and handed it to him. He plunked down on the floor in front of the cupboard and started sucking on it.

“How’s your hands?” Sam was asking Franky.

“It ain’t nothin’. I wouldn’t be wearin’ no bandages ’cept Mrs. Wortham insisted.”

“Pa said you wanted him to notice.”

“Nope,” Franky admitted to his brother. “I almost took ’em off so he wouldn’t see.”

Young Sam shook his head. “Pa can be funny sometimes, we all know that. You shouldn’t let it bother you, all right?”

Franky nodded.

We called in everybody to eat. Oh, what a tired and grubby bunch they were. And on a Saturday night! We’d be needing baths, church or no church. Usually there was no question but that we’d go. That’s where Christian families ought to be on a Sunday morning. But this time I was hoping Samuel would change his mind. It was just too soon for him. Oh, how hard the ride would be over our bumpy country roads! It made me hurt for him, just thinking about it.

When most everybody else was eating, I went upstairs, thinking I’d better take this opportunity to talk to Rorey. Not just about apologizing to Franky but also about her feelings for the Turrey boy and that I’d have to let her father know when I got the chance. She wouldn’t be very happy with me about that, I knew. Or with Franky and Sarah either, for talking to me. But I hoped she’d see that we all just wanted what was best for her.

I was rehearsing in my mind how to begin such a delicate subject as I opened the door to Sarah and Katie’s room.

“Rorey? Can I come in a minute?”

She didn’t answer. She was lying on Sarah’s bed, already asleep. I pulled a cover up to her shoulder and left her alone.

Samuel didn’t eat much. At first that bothered me, but I had to stop myself and consider what a blessing it was to have him doing so well as he was. It was silly for me to keep on fretting.

Little Georgie was yawning and running around behind and between chairs to keep from giving in to the tiredness. Finally his father swooped him up and said it was time to go. Pretty soon Georgie snuggled in his grandma’s arms, I carried the baby, and young Sam picked up Thelma just as Delores had promised me he would. We walked on out and got them situated in their car. About half the other kids followed just to see them off.

“Now, don’t you worry,” Delores told me again. “I’ll see that Thelma gets plenty a’ rest.”

“Thank you so much,” Thelma told me. “You’re such a blessin’. And we’ll keep on prayin’ that Mr. Wortham gains his full strength ’fore you know it.”

“Thank you,” I told her and gave her a hug.

Emmie ran up to hug her oldest brother and plant a kiss on little Rosemary’s forehead. Then she reached and kissed Thelma too. “G’night. Can I come see the baby tomorrow?”

“We’ll see, sweetie, we’ll see,” Thelma told her.

They drove off, and we all waved and then headed back to the house. It seemed emptier, though we still had five Hammond boys and Emmie. Plus Robert and our girls. And Rorey.

Harry started a game of checkers with Berty, and I got Robert and Kirk to haul me water to heat for baths. Samuel got up and moved to a chair in the sitting room, and I had to admit he looked like he was walking better.

Everybody needed a bath, but we were all so tired that I figured it wouldn’t hurt if we started each bath with whoever seemed the cleanest so we could reuse the water and save hauling more quite so many times. That meant Katie would be first once the water was warm. Or maybe Emmie so we could get her settled down to sleep.

“Ain’t no reason why we shouldn’t be over to home tonight,” Kirk said. “’Cept Pa’s all upset over everythin’. He said we oughta be where we can get up an’ see to the animals first thing, but it ain’t that hard to come over in the mornin’.”

“It don’t take all of us to care for the animals neither,” Willy added.

“Sometimes your father’s got to think,” Samuel told them. “Don’t worry. Lizbeth’s got good sense. She’ll know how to talk to him.”

“She oughta bring him over here,” Emmie declared. “I’d hug him real big an’ tell him there’s nothin’ to worry ’bout ’cause Mr. Wortham’s gonna help us build the barn back.”

“You be quiet,” Willy grouched at her. “Mr. Wortham can’t build. Not hurt like he is.”

“You wait and see,” Samuel said to that.

I held my tongue on the matter, only giving Emmie’s little shoulder a pat. “You’d be a real comfort to him, sweetie, but you can hug him tomorrow. Do you want me to read you a story?”

I knew she’d like that. I expected her to run and get our big book of Bible stories for children. She especially liked everything about Miriam and Moses and the Israelites leaving Egypt. But instead of going to get that familiar volume, she looked at me with solemn eyes and said, “What about Franky’s book? What’s it about?”

I had forgotten all about the book Franky’d taken such trouble to borrow from Elvira yesterday.
Silas Marner
, if I remembered right. Kate went and got it off the shelf.

Kirk rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

“Are you sure you want to hear some of this?” I asked Emmie. “It’s not written for children your age.”

“Yeah, but Franky didn’t get to hear it yesterday, an’ he had to fight an’ ever’thin’, jus’ to get it home.”

“That’s dumb!” Willy told her. “He wasn’t fightin’ about that.”

But Emmie seemed determined, surprising even me. “I don’t mind to listen, at least a little bit.”

“Neither do I,” Samuel said from across the room. And that settled it for all of us.

Harry and Bert kept on with their checkers game in the corner. Emmie snuggled between Sarah and Katie on the floor with her dolly on her lap. And Robert, Willy, and Kirk took up most the davenport; they were all getting so big. Franky sat in the smaller chair to their right, and I sat in the only chair that remained, closer to Samuel in the rocker. He reached and squeezed my hand for just a minute. I saw his smile, but he suddenly looked so tired.

“Do you want me to help you lie down?”

“No. No, let’s hear a chapter first. Then the water’ll be hot. I’ll lie down then and whoever can stay awake can get a bath in.”

He was right to surmise that we were all pretty tired. What a night was last night! I hoped we never ever saw another one like it.

I knew that the boys on the davenport were less than thrilled at the prospect of listening along, but they had the decency to respect Samuel’s word. So with everyone gathered around the sitting room except Rorey, I started to read about the strange weaver and his reputation around the village of Raveloe. Franky sat in rapt attention, absorbing every word, and the girls were listening too, except that Emmie kept fiddling with the hem of Bessie-doll’s skirt.