The Glorious Prodigal Read online

  “It wasn’t for him.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re going to hear more of it. Do you want to tell me what Burt said about me?”

  “He said only a bad woman would get a divorce. That all divorced women were bad.”

  “Well, that’s not true.”

  “I know it ain’t, but I’ll make him eat it. You see if I don’t.”

  ****

  “I hear that the Sanderson family has all got the flu,” Annie announced as she came in with two tin buckets full of milk. “I expect we’d better take somethin’ over there. I’ll go after I get Merle taken care of.”

  “No. I’ve got to go that way, anyway, to pick up some feed at the mill. You just take care of Merle. Don’t worry about supper tonight. We’ll have leftovers.”

  “This flu’s gonna kill half the population, it do seem like,” Annie said mournfully.

  “How is Merle this morning?”

  “He’s some better. He’s settin’ up now. I got him to eat a bowl of grits, but he’s still gonna be a few days before he be back to his normal self. That flu just takes the strength right out of a body.”

  “I’ll take plenty of food for the Sandersons,” Leah said.

  “How many young’uns they got now? Six?”

  “Five, I think. Are Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson both down?”

  “Both of ’em, from what Bessie tells me. You’d better let me go. They’re bound to need some washin’ done. You know how it is if you miss a washin’ one day around here. And with them five kids and two adults, it don’t take long to get a real mess on your hands.”

  “I’ll take care of that. You just watch out for Merle.”

  ****

  Leah stopped the truck in front of the Sanderson place and saw fire curling up out of the chimney. “At least somebody’s able to make a fire,” she said. Getting out, she went to the back, picked up one of the two boxes she had brought packed with food, and walked up to the porch. She mounted it and knocked, but nobody answered. Opening the door cautiously she stepped inside. “They might all be asleep,” she said.

  Going on into the kitchen, she heard someone on the back porch, so she set the box down and stepped outside. She stopped at once, for there at one end of the porch she saw Stuart with his shirt sleeves rolled up and running clothes through a ringer. He did not see her and probably had not heard her over the chug of the noisy washing machine that was agitating the clothes. A huge mound of clothes rested on a table, and obviously he had been at the job for some time. Glancing out, she saw that the line was filled with clothes put out to dry.

  Stuart turned suddenly to put a shirt on the pile and stopped abruptly. “Well, hello, Leah.”

  “Hello, Stuart.” She had to speak louder to be understood. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I heard the Sandersons had some bad luck. Thought I’d come and see if I could help.”

  Leah hesitated, then said, “I brought some groceries for them. How are they?”

  “Poor shape,” he said. “Three of the kids are down, and the two youngest ones are over at the Porter place. Mrs. Porter said maybe she could keep them from getting it.”

  “What about Fred and Elsie?”

  “About as sick as you can get, I guess. Dr. Morton was here. He’s real concerned about Fred and Elsie.” He laughed shortly and said, “I can get these things washed, but I declare I don’t know how I’ll get ’em ironed. I’ll do my best.”

  “I’ll go bring the rest of the food in.”

  “I’ll get it. Is it outside?”

  “Yes. Out in the truck.”

  Leah reentered the kitchen and saw that Stuart had built a fire. The kitchen was pretty much a mess with dirty dishes everywhere. She took off her coat and began to clean up.

  When Stuart came back in a few moments and set the other box down, he said, “I was gonna try to cook something, but I guess you can do that better than I can.”

  “Yes. I’ll take care of that.”

  “All right. I’ll go out and take care of the stock as soon as I finish the washing.”

  Leah went at once to check on Fred and Elsie and found them both almost in a coma. The three children were restless, and she changed their clothes and bathed their faces, then put them back into bed.

  She worked hard getting the kitchen cleaned up, made a meal, and saw to it that the children were fed. Elsie ate a little and thanked her profusely for coming, but Fred seemed to be almost past eating.

  “I’m so worried about him, Leah. So many people have died.”

  “We’re not going to let that happen. We’re just going to take care of him and pray for him,” Leah said quietly, “and trust God to help us.”

  Elsie lay back and said, “Thank God you came. And Stuart, he’s been here working all day now. I don’t know what we would have done if it wasn’t for him and for you.”

  Going back into the kitchen, Leah cleaned up the dishes from the meal. It was almost dark now, and she had worked hard all afternoon. Stuart had not come back in, and now she went outside. The cold air hit her, and she saw him repairing a fence. “Stuart!” she called. “Come in. You’ve got to eat something.”

  He put down the hammer and started toward her. She went back into the kitchen, put a plate down, and filled it with the ham and beans she had warmed up on the stove. She had made fresh corn bread, too. Pulling off his coat and hat, he tossed them down. When he pulled off his gloves, she saw that his hands were callused and nicked by the barbed wire.

  “Your hands look awful. You need to take care of them,” she said.

  “I guess so.”

  She put down a glass of fresh milk that she had brought and said, “That’s not good for your playing.”

  “Well, I don’t play much anymore.”

  The remark caught at Leah as nothing else that he had said. Music had always been a part of Stuart’s life. He had not said it for pity. She was sure of that. It was as if that which he had valued so much was not at all important. “Did you play any at all while you were in prison?”

  “Oh, I played a lot there. Taught a lot of fellas to play, and we had a concert every week. All of them said it was the best time of the whole week for them. I always was a little proud of that.”

  Leah sat down and watched as he ate. He commented on the work that needed doing around the farm, and finally she said, “What about your job with Ace?”

  “He let me off. He’s fond of Fred and Elsie. Everybody is. As a matter of fact, he’s even going to pay me, but I won’t let him.”

  When he finished, she gave him a cup of coffee, and he asked, “How are the kids?”

  “All right.”

  “I got a shock when I got my first look at Merry. She looks just like you. Going to be a beauty. As bright as a button.”

  “She’s so smart. Like you, I guess.”

  “Not like me. No one ever accused me of that.”

  Neither of them mentioned Raimey, and just as Leah was getting ready to rise, his voice caught her. “Leah, I want to tell you something.”

  Cautiously she sat back down. “What is it?” she asked guardedly.

  He did not answer for a moment but stared down at the table. He lifted his eyes to her and, without expression, said, “If you want a divorce, Leah, I won’t stand in your way.”

  Leah could not answer for a moment. She could not believe that she had heard him clearly, and as thoughts flew through her mind, she looked closely into his face. She saw a strength there that he had lacked before, and she could not identify it. He had been put through a crucible—she understood that well enough—but the firm set of his lips and the steady gaze he fixed on her with his dark blue eyes unsettled her.

  “What makes you say that? Do you want a divorce?”

  “No! Never in my life! But I want you to be happy, and I want the kids cared for.”

  Leah dropped her head and for one moment felt as if something was dreadfully wrong with the scene. She could not understand what was happeni
ng to her. Up until now she had not even considered Stuart’s reaction, but she knew that if a man was determined, he could prevent a woman from getting a divorce. She finally lifted her head and said, “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  Stuart shrugged his shoulders, then rose. “I’ll be staying around a few days to be sure that the Sandersons are all right. Let me know what you decide.”

  ****

  When Leah first awakened she knew something was wrong. Her throat was closed almost tight, and she was burning up. When she stood up a terrible pain shot through her head, and she suddenly knew the worst. “Oh no, I’ve got the flu!”

  Getting out of bed was a struggle, but she managed to throw on a robe and a pair of worn leather slippers. She went down the hallway but became so dizzy she had to hang on for a moment. Finally she made it to the kitchen, and as soon as she did, Annie turned and stared at her. “You’re as white as a sheet! What’s wrong with you?”

  “I don’t . . . feel very well.”

  Annie came over at once and put her hand on Leah’s forehead. “You got the flu! That’s what’s the matter with you.”

  “I can’t be sick! I just can’t!”

  “You go right back to bed this minute!” Annie said. “I’m gonna call Doc Morton and get him over here right away.”

  Leah wanted to protest, but suddenly she felt so weak she was not sure she could walk. The fever turned into a chill, and by the time she got under the covers, she was shaking so violently that the bed creaked. “Oh, who’s going to take care of Merry and Raimey? What if they get sick?” She huddled under the covers, holding herself and shivering. She tried to pray, but it seemed no use.

  ****

  Annie lifted her head wearily at the knock on the back door and managed to get up. She had exhausted herself for the past day taking care of Merle and Leah. The dreadful thought that came to her most often was, What if I get sick? What will we do then? Opening the door, she stared at Stuart, who stood there wearing his mackinaw and his billed cap. His face was flushed from the exercise. He had evidently walked from somewhere.

  “I heard Leah was sick.”

  “Yes, she is. Real bad sick.”

  Stuart walked in, brushing by Annie, and suddenly he turned and looked at her closely. His eyes narrowed, and he said, “What’s wrong with you, Annie?”

  “Nothin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.”

  Stuart shook his head. “You’re coming down with it, too, aren’t you?”

  “Ain’t nothin’ but a bad cold.”

  “I’ve heard that before. Annie, go home and go to bed.”

  “I ain’t got no intention of goin’ to bed!” Annie protested. Actually she had been feeling steadily worse since noon, and now there was a weakness in her limbs that she tried to hide. “What you doin’ here?”

  “I’m here to take care of my family. Now you go to bed. I’ll call Doc Morton and have him come out again.”

  “He already been here yesterday with Miss Leah.”

  “Well, whatever he told her to do, you’ll do the same.”

  “He said there wasn’t much to do but stay in bed and drink all the fluids she could.”

  “How’s Merle?”

  “He’s better, but to tell the truth, Mr. Stuart, I ain’t feelin’ too well.”

  Stuart moved forward and put his arm around Annie. “Go on, Annie,” he said gently. “I’m not moving back in. I’m just here to see that you and Leah and the kids and Merle are all right. Now, you go on to bed.”

  Annie was too tired and weary to argue. She nodded and said, “I’ll do what you say.”

  As she made her way back across the yard, it seemed to be a long way to her house. When she stepped inside, she said to Merle, who was sitting in a rocker by the fireplace, “I’m gettin’ sick.”

  “I have to go take care of them chilluns,” Merle said.

  “No. You stay where you are. Mr. Stuart, he gonna take care of the kids and of us, too, I reckon. I pray our own babies stay well.”

  Merle stared at her for a moment and then dropped his head. “He’s done come back at a mighty good time, I’d say.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  An Old Song

  Leah could remember nothing but chills that seemed like iron bands freezing her bones. She would shake and tremble until the bed itself vibrated, hugging herself and trying to get some warmth out of the covers that lay piled over her. She had fallen through the ice once years ago while skating on a pond, and that had been a terrible shock, but the chills that shook her body now were far worse. No matter how much she bundled up, it seemed she could never get warm enough.

  Always following the chills would come a fever, baking her flesh as if in an oven and drying her lips until they were like charred wood. She had never been one to perspire, but the terrible heat that rose up from somewhere deep inside and burned its way out of her caused her to soak the bed.

  Sleep was a deadly coma that was not rest at all but merely a black hole of either freezing or burning as the chills or fever came. When she did wake up it was worse, for her eyes ached and her tongue seemed to be swollen no matter how much she drank. Once she tried to pour a drink from the pitcher beside the bed, but she trembled so violently that she dropped the glass and the pitcher both, soaking herself even worse.

  Finally she felt hands on her, and she whispered, “Annie—?” Her eyes were swollen and the room was dark, but soon she felt her gown being stripped off and then a cool wet sheet put over her. “Oh, Annie, it feels so good,” she whispered. She got no answer, but when the heat of her body warmed the wet sheet, it was changed and another cool one put on. Finally she felt her temperature going down, and then she felt herself suddenly being lifted and swung around and placed in a chair. She opened her eyes and saw a man stripping the sheets off. She tried to speak, but her lips were dry as toast. She knew it was Stuart, but yet it was all like a dream. Finally she felt herself being handled like a child as a dry gown was put on her and then a sheet put over her. A strong hand was holding her up and she heard a voice.

  “You’ve got to drink, Leah.”

  Leah drank thirstily of the cool water and then whispered, “Merry—Raimey—”

  “They’re fine. Don’t worry about anything.”

  Leah was too weak to argue. She felt herself slipping back into unconsciousness, and only once did she manage to open her eyes. By the yellow light of the lamp she saw Stuart sitting beside her silently. It’s all right, she thought. It’s all right. He’s with me. . . . And then she drifted off to sleep.

  ****

  Raimey awoke out of a fitful sleep with a jerk and sat straight up in bed. He stared around and saw that morning had begun to lighten the world outside. His first thought was of his mother, and with it came a dreaded fear he had not been able to control. He had come home to find his mother in bed and his father waiting to tell him, “Your mother’s got the flu, kids, but she’s going to be all right.”

  Now Raimey rolled out of bed and began to pull on his clothes. He ignored the cold, and as soon as he had laced his boots, he left the room. He stopped once and looked into Merry’s room and saw a mound of blankets and heard her steady, even breathing. Closing the door he went down to the kitchen, where he stopped as soon as he was inside. His father, he saw, was sitting at the table peeling potatoes.

  “Hello, Raimey. Ready for some breakfast?”

  “I’ve got to go do the milking.”

  “I’ve already done that. Sit down. How about bacon and eggs?”

  Raimey swallowed hard and then said, “How . . . how’s Mom?”

  “Her fever got pretty high last night, but it’s down now. We’ll just have to be sure that it stays down. Here, you peel some of these potatoes while I fix up a breakfast.”

  Raimey sat down and began peeling the potatoes. He watched his father covertly as he moved around breaking eggs and frying bacon, and soon the aroma of fresh meat filled the room.

  When the food was all read
y, Stuart put it on a plate and set it in front of Raimey. Then he fixed one for himself and said, “You want to ask the blessing, or shall I do it?”

  Raimey glanced down. “You, I guess,” he muttered.

  “Lord, I thank you for the food, and I thank you that you’ve given Leah strength for the night. I pray for her, for Annie, for Merle, and for all the others in the community who are stricken by this disease. In the name of Jesus.”

  Stuart deliberately paid no attention to the boy but began to eat hungrily. “I wanted to make biscuits, but I don’t know how.”

  “I don’t either. Mom always made them or Annie.”

  “I reckon I’ll learn how. A man ought to learn how to cook a little bit.”

  “That’s woman’s work.”

  Stuart grinned at Raimey. “I’m not sure about that. I’ve known some men that could cook mighty well. One of them was as tough a fellow as you’d ever meet.”

  Raimey ate slowly, for his mind was primarily on his mother. He listened as his father went on talking about the farm and finally heard him say, “I’m right proud of you, Raimey. The farm’s in good shape, and I know you put in a lot of work on it. I expect you’ve been a great help to your mother.”

  Raimey shrugged and shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth. Something in him seemed to close in when he tried to speak, and he had been having many memories about the times just before his father had gone to prison. But he could not speak of them. It was Stuart who said, “You remember that big bass you caught? The one just before I went to prison.”

  Raimey nodded and looked up. “I remember. It never got mounted, though. You went off and it spoiled.”

  “That’s too bad. I remember that day well. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

  Raimey once again stuffed his mouth full and would not answer. A stubbornness rose in him, and he refused to respond to Stuart.

  “Well, I think your mother’s going to be all right.”

  Raimey suddenly put his fork down and glared at his father. “You don’t care a thing about her! You never did!”