Rorey's Secret (29 page)

Mom told me what Dad wanted us to say to the folks at church. Robert and me and Franky were almost ready to go when Willy said he didn’t want to go. Kirk didn’t either, but then a car came pulling in our drive that made them both change their minds. It was Orville Mueller telling us that Mr. Turrey had gone to town early to find Ben Law, the sheriff, and tell him about Hammond and Wortham boys attacking them last night. I guess they didn’t want to be home if Ben Law came out. Or I guess they thought it’d serve them well to be found in church.

Katie and Emmie came along too, and that left only Bert home with Mom and Dad. It seemed strange driving to church without them. I kept having to tie and retie Emmie’s scarf all the way there because of the blowing wind and because she wouldn’t leave the tie ends alone. She must have asked us six or seven times if Rorey would be there.

“I don’t know,” I told her. “She’ll be there if your pa comes. Or Lizbeth.”

I guess nobody expected to see us. As soon as we pulled up, there came a big crowd hugging at us and asking all kinds of questions, especially about Daddy. I think most of them thought that the boys’ bruises came from fighting the fire somehow, so the boys were all kind of like heroes until Benjamin Gray started telling people otherwise after talking to Harry.

Sunday school was strange without Mom, because usually she taught one class. But today all of us in Mom’s group were put in with Bonnie Gray’s class. That was Benjamin Gray’s mother, and also Rachel’s. She was just a little older than me and she liked my brother, I could tell. She sat beside me and asked me maybe a dozen questions that she didn’t have the nerve to ask Robert directly.

Choir was strange without Mom too, since she sometimes helped Mrs. Pastor with it and sometimes sang standing right next to Katie and me. Emmie sat with Rachel Gray while we were up singing. I didn’t know why Emmie didn’t want to sit with her brothers.

Robert and Franky had talked to the pastor before church ever started, and he called them up to tell everybody what Dad wanted to ask. And the men of the church had a vote right then and decided to come and help the Hammonds raise their barn the very next Saturday. Some of the men even said they’d help getting the lumber.

Franky cried. I never did see him cry in church before, even though I knew he took it more serious than most people his age. Everybody thought it was because he was so happy that the church was willing to help. And I’m sure that was part of it, but I had a feeling that wasn’t all. Rorey wasn’t there. Neither was her father or Lizbeth. And I knew Lizbeth would be, if she figured their father was in a fit enough frame of mind to leave. So I guessed he wasn’t, and I raised my hand and asked for prayer for him and Rorey both. Katie and Franky both smiled at me for that. So did the pastor.

When we got home, we found out that Ben Law really had been sent out, but when he heard the whole story, he didn’t think Hammonds and Worthams were any more to blame than the Turrey boys were. So he just left a warning for everybody about fighting, and he even said he was going to talk to Lester special about how an accident so serious as that fire needed to be reported honest, even if he didn’t mean any harm.

Franky curled up and slept on the davenport before we even got any dinner, and Mom made everybody be quiet and let him sleep. Katie said he was long-suffering, whatever that meant. Robert said he’d been the one to tell the preacher what Dad wanted, on account of Robert almost always getting tongue-tied around Pastor Jones.

I prayed for Rorey again, but we didn’t see her all day. Dad stayed in bed like he was supposed to, and Dr. Hall came that afternoon and said he’d be okay if he just let himself take it easy and not do too much until he was healed.

Mom went to see Mrs. Howell. Robert drove her, and they took the cake, even though it wasn’t warm and Harry’d took a corner off before he knew who it was for. The funeral was going to be Monday while we were at school. I was a little bit glad of that, because I didn’t really want to go.

School was strange on Monday, mostly because it seemed like everybody already knew as much as we did about what had happened over the weekend. Two of Lester Turrey’s little brothers and two sisters were there, but they stayed away from all of us. They wouldn’t have had to, especially the girls. Because none of it was their fault. I gave Rose Turrey an apple at lunch because she looked so sad and she was sitting all alone.

But the strangest thing about school was that Rorey didn’t come. Willy and the rest did, all but Kirk, who was working field again, and Franky, who schooled with Mom at home. Even Berty came, because Dad let Robert bring us in the truck. He sat there with the old cane between his legs and even gave a safety lesson to the class, that nobody ought ever run in a burning building.

But Rorey wasn’t there. Katie said she was probably ashamed. Millie Mueller said Rorey’s pa had probably grounded her so she couldn’t even leave the house. I didn’t know which it was or how I felt about it. I missed her and was glad she wasn’t there, all at the same time.

That whole week was the same—Rorey didn’t come to school one day. Lester showed up on Wednesday when we were heading home, wanting to get hold of Willy or somebody alone. But we were all together, so he just left.

The older Hammond boys went home some, but Emmie and Bert stayed with us. Franky too, because Daddy told him to until he had a chance to talk to his pa. But Mr. Hammond didn’t come over, and Kirk said he was acting sour most of the time and that Rorey sure enough was grounded, though Mr. Hammond would let her go to school if she wanted to.

Sam Hammond went over there a lot, and they cleaned up all the rubble and got the roof of the house fixed. One night Willy came bringing some of the tools they found. They were all black and charred with the handles burned off. Willy said their pa was asking if Franky could make some handles. I think Franky started that night, since Mrs. Calloway and Mr. Porter had already come to get their cedar chest and chair.

You should’ve seen all the people on Saturday. Almost the whole church, and even some people who didn’t go to our church. Some folks had brought lumber, and that was a big help, but Daddy’d asked Robert to get the lumberman to bring the rest on credit. I think Mr. Hammond was bothered by that, but he was happy to have all the help just the same. Even the pastor came, though he spent part of the time sitting down with Rorey and her pa.

It was the first I’d seen Rorey all week. She strolled around the yard with Emmie for a while and then helped Mrs. Miller cut up some apples for the biggest apple salad I ever saw. But she didn’t want to talk to me.

Mom tried to talk to her. She even gave her a hug. But I could tell Rorey was glad to get away.

Daddy couldn’t work too hard. The other men wouldn’t let him. But they joked all day about him and George Hammond being the bosses. Dad watched and looked over the paper that showed how they were going to put up the barn. But after a while he had Mr. Hammond sit down with him alone, and they had a real long talk. I wish I knew what they’d said. Because even after the talk was done, Franky didn’t stay at his home that night. Berty did. Emmie too. But not Franky.

That Sunday, Daddy came to church. Mom packed pillows around him in the truck and even brought one inside the church for him. He just teased her that he wasn’t fragile, but he moved different, and we all knew he was still a long ways from right. The dizzy kept coming back, and some bad headaches, and his side was paining him more than he let on, I think, and that made him tired.

But I was proud of him sitting in church. I was real proud Dad had saved Berty and got the Hammonds a barn again and everything else. That Sunday, Mr. Hammond came to church too, and Rorey sat right beside him. She even came to Sunday school class and sat in her regular seat, right by me.

“Lester’s mad at me,” she whispered.

I didn’t answer such words as that. “Katie and me are reciting a poem by William Shakespeare at school tomorrow,” I told her. “You ought to come.”

But right then Mom asked if anybody remembered Psalm 116 that we’d read a couple of weeks back, when she was there last. Franky raised his hand, and when she nodded, he started quoting it right out.

Rorey rolled her eyes. “There he goes again.”

“Yeah,” I told her. “Don’t you wish you could remember stuff as good as he does?”

Rorey looked away. And I smiled and turned to listen. Because it really was a wonder, and those words even seemed to fit him.

“I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice an’ my supplications. Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live . . .”

25

Julia

The first Sunday that Samuel was back in church, we stopped at Charlie Hunter’s service station on the way home even though we knew he’d be closed. He’d told us we’d be more than welcome to use the telephone. Samuel was finally going to call his mother. I’d almost forgotten about the letter by then, and pretty much decided I must have thrown it away. I’d been so tired that day.

Samuel stood with the telephone receiver in one hand, leaning his back against the wall. I prayed that his mother would be gracious. I prayed that she’d be proud of what he’d done and tell him so. But she wasn’t home. I could tell he was disappointed. Then we went on to our Sunday dinner.

Samuel didn’t eat much. He went to lie down without me prompting him. I’d been so glad that after a week he seemed to be feeling better, but that afternoon I knew he wasn’t feeling well at all.

He still seemed weak Monday morning. He got up for a while but then had to lie back down again. I told him surely he’d just done too much over the weekend.

Barrett Post came by early to tell us that school was let out for the day because his brother, Elvira’s husband, was doing poorly and had to see the doctor. Elvira was looking to retire by Christmas, he said, and the board was wanting a young unmarried woman to take her place.

Picking what was left of the ground cherries with Kate, I prayed for Clement Post and Samuel. I thought Samuel might like it if we went to town to call his mother again. But I didn’t want to mention it yet. Not till he seemed to be feeling a little better. I almost sat down and wrote another letter, in case we couldn’t get to the phone, but then I thought I’d better not. Samuel wanted to talk to her himself, and besides, I ought to just believe that he’d be fine to go into town as early as this afternoon. I ought to have faith for him to be well. He’d had one painful week, despite how much he tried not to show it. And I believed that surely from here on out he would be feeling better.

As I was picking cherries, Franky sat under the apple tree with Sarah, doing some ciphers. She’d offered to help him since she was home. I wondered how that was going. Sarah didn’t quite understand how he could tackle three, four, or even five digits in his head but struggle so severely with simple problems on paper. Some days I didn’t even bother with paper, but I knew she was right that he needed to be able to write down his charges for the work he did, as well as read someone else’s.

“It’s just numbers!” Sarah had told me. “That’s not so hard as words. Why can’t he read numbers?”

He did some. But he was forever confusing twos and fives, or sixes and nines, or the plus and multiply signs, even though his vision was fine. I didn’t understand it either. But it made the arithmetic almost as hard as the reading.

Emmie went and joined them for a while, and Sarah told me later that Emmie could add and subtract just fine in her head but scarcely knew any of the numbers on paper. I began to wonder if maybe Emmie was right, that maybe she and Franky were a bit alike.

“Franky’s the only one who hasn’t been home overnight yet,” Katie pointed out to me. “His father can’t still be mad, can he? He didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“No, he didn’t,” I agreed. “And George knows that. He even apologized.”

She looked over at me with her face so sad. “But he still doesn’t want him, does he?”

How could I tell her something like that? How could I come right out and admit that I didn’t know how long Franky would be spending nights with us?

“Honey, Franky’s father seems to be having a difficult time. And I guess he’s just being difficult in the middle of it. He only said he wanted a break for a while, that’s all.”

“From Franky?”

“I know. It doesn’t make much sense.”

She glanced over toward the apple tree. “Rorey’s the only other one who hasn’t been back and forth all week.”

“She’s having a difficult time too.”

Katie glanced down into her bowl of ground cherries with their greenish-brown husks and gave them a shake. “Looks like more with the husks on. Too bad this isn’t even a mess.”

“We’ll have enough for preserves when we finish. Not many. But some is better than none.”

“I thought Georgie’d trample them all.” She stood and pushed a strand of dark, wavy hair behind one ear. “Mom, I think somebody’s coming.”

I looked down the lane. Sarah and Franky were looking too. A car was coming. Charlie Hunter? It’d been so long since he’d driven out this way that I wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t alone. Of course, he had a wife and two sons now, but I could think of no reason why they’d be coming to call, especially during hours when Charlie was normally working.

As they came up our drive, I could see that the woman in the front seat was not Millie Hunter. She was a good deal older and wore a generously brimmed straw hat. And there was a man in the back. He stepped out first.

“Julia!” Charlie called out the window. “Brought you some kin, straight off the train!”

Kin? My heart started pounding, and I almost dropped my bowl of cherries. Off the train?

There was something vaguely familiar about the man who had been in the backseat, but I still didn’t realize who he was. I had no living relatives except Samuel and the children. And Samuel’s family was so far away, in more ways than one.

But as he came stepping toward me, I thought of the cheery best man at our wedding. Samuel’s cousin, the only cheery relative Samuel seemed to have. Dewey? Come all the way out here? He was the reason we’d moved to Illinois, although he’d had to start over back East not long after we got here. And we hadn’t seen him since.