THE HOMEPLACE Page 8

  “Then why are you all still here?” Lanie said. “And why didn’t someone send for us?”

  Pastor William cleared his throat. “Lanie, the baby came real fast.

  And like I said, she’s fine. But your ma is having some problems. Your dad and Doc Givens are in there, along with Doc’s nurse. They’re doing everything they can to help your ma, and we’re out here praying as hard as we can.”

  Lanie felt the panic beginning to well up in her heart. “What are they doing? And what are you all having to pray about?”

  He paused for a few seconds. “I’m not sure I know all the whys and what fors. Your dad only said Elizabeth hasn’t been doing well.”

  “But she’s going to be all right, isn’t she, Pastor?”

  Pastor William looked at the floor and shook his head. “I don’t know, Lanie Belle. I just don’t know.”

  A wave of panic crashed over Lanie. Her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak, and she turned her face away so that Pastor William wouldn’t see the tears she couldn’t hold back. No, God! Don’t let my mama die!

  The clock on the sitting room wall slowly ticked off the minutes. It chimed at each quarter hour. To Lanie it seemed that each quarter hour passed more slowly than the one before. Her thoughts bounced back and forth from fear to confident prayer that the Lord would make all things right. At times she would sit, and at other times she paced.

  The bedroom door squeaked and opened. Lanie heard footsteps coming down the hall. When Dr. Givens and her daddy entered the parlor, Lanie knew something was terribly wrong! She sensed that her dad had been crying. His eyes were puffy and swollen. Doc Givens’ usually spry and happy demeanor had given way to gloom. His coarse salt-and-pepper hair looked more gray than usual, and his old-fashioned moustache seemed to droop in sadness.

  Forrest cleared his throat. “Children, your mama is in a bad way. The baby is fine . . . she’s a beautiful little girl, but . . .” Forrest’s voice broke as his lips trembled and tears began to run down his cheeks. He slumped into a chair with his head in his hands and began to sob.

  Forrest’s tears shocked everyone into an awkward silence. Lanie clasped her hand to her open mouth and slowly sank into a chair.

  Dr. Givens put his hand on Forrest’s shoulder. “Children, you’d better go to your mother.”

  Forrest slowly stood and then held out his hand. Lanie took it and, with the other children trailing them, they left the parlor and walked toward the bedroom.

  “Elizabeth, the children are here.”

  Her eyes slowly opened and then she focused on the children and whispered, “Children, come here.” Lanie let her brothers and sister go first. She watched her mother whisper something to each of them and then hug them, and Lanie wished she could escape this terrible nightmare.

  Doc Givens quietly entered the room and closed the door behind him. He stood against the door as Forrest gestured to Lanie that it was her turn. She walked toward the side of her mother’s bed, her shoes lead on her feet. She sat by her mother, who looked up at her and smiled. Almost instinctively, Lanie leaned over, kissed her mother softly on the cheek, and then whispered, “Mama, you can’t leave us now! We all need you so much, and so does the baby.”

  “Oh, precious, I don’t want to go. But the doctor says I don’t have a say in this.”

  “What’s that doctor know?” Lanie said with trembling lips.

  Elizabeth smiled and reached up to stroke Lanie’s hair. “Well, precious, if he’s wrong, I’ll be the happiest person in the whole world, but if the Lord has chosen today to take me to glory, to be with Him forever, we’ve just got to accept that, don’t we?”

  Lanie nodded, hot tears warming her icy cheeks.

  Her mother smiled. “Lanie Belle, you’ll have to take my place. You’re the steady one and I need you to be strong and dependable for your dad and the younger children. Will you?”

  “I will, Mama! I will!”

  Elizabeth smiled again. “Lanie, I need to talk to your dad.”

  Lanie gave her mother a long, sobbing hug. Finally she released her, stood, and walked to the foot of the bed to stand by the other children. Elizabeth gestured to Forrest, who took her hand.

  “Forrest, bring me the baby, will you?”

  Lanie watched her dad walk over to the crib and gently lift the sleeping child. He placed her beside Elizabeth. When Lanie saw that her mother was too weak to even hold the baby, she felt a chill go through her body. Then her mother bowed her head and her voice was faint as she prayed.

  “Dear Lord, I . . . I want to thank you for the gift of this precious child. Her safe arrival is a direct answer to our prayers. Lord, I know I won’t be here to be her mother, so I ask you to give Forrest . . . a special measure of strength to be her daddy.” Elizabeth’s voice was very faint, and her lips scarcely seemed to move.

  “I ask that you would give Lanie . . . the patience and energy to care for this little one. And give her a special love for her little sister, to raise and nurture her. Lord, please give a special grace to my family and to this most special little baby. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”

  Lanie looked up. Her father’s face was streaked with tears. Elizabeth laid her head back on the pillow and smiled as she looked up at him. “Oh, Forrest, you’ve been”—her voice broke, but she reached out her hand for his—“a fine husband and a wonderful father for our children. I’ve never loved anyone . . . as much as I love you . . .”

  “I love you, too, sweetheart,” Forrest whispered.

  Lanie thought that her mother was radiant and her smile was angelic. “One day,” her mother whispered so faintly that Lanie could barely hear the words, “one day . . . we’ll all be together again.”

  Her mother’s eyes closed. After a final sigh, she breathed her last, a smile on her lips.

  Lanie ran around the bed. “Mama!” But her dad stopped her. He placed his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. Lanie sobbed uncontrollably, and Forrest gestured to the other children to come. He held them all close as they wept—and then he began to sob with them.

  PART TWO

  The Accident

  C H A P T E R 7

  The snowy white blanket of snow that carpeted the school yard did not touch Lanie with its pristine beauty. As a rule, she loved to see the ground carpeted white with snow, but all she could think of now was that her mother’s grave was underneath this same blanket. Involuntarily the picture of the grave flashed in her mind’s eye, and she quickly turned away from Miss Dunsmore’s classroom window, pressing her lips together and blinking her eyes to keep back the tears. Someone had told her that “time heals all wounds,” but in the six months since her mother died, she had not found the saying to be true. She glanced at Miss Dunsmore, who was saying good-bye to the last of the students on this last day of school before Christmas vacation. The sounds of laughter and shouting in the hall came to her as the door opened, but she felt none of the joy.

  Miss Dunsmore closed the door, came over to where she was standing, and smiled. “I wanted to say a special merry Christmas to you, Lanie, although I’ll be seeing you at church.” Miss Dunsmore wore a white dress that reached just below her knees, a lime-green belt, and a light-gray sweater to take the chill off. “I hope you have a good Christmas,” she said warmly.

  The words tumbled out of Lanie before she could stop them. “Miss Dunsmore, I’m right sorry I didn’t do well in your class. I didn’t even deserve the C you gave me.”

  When she had received her report card and saw her low grades, especially in English class, Lanie had cried herself to sleep. Always before she had made nothing but A’s, but taking care of an infant and keeping the rest of the house going had sapped her strength. To her horror, she felt tears running down her cheeks. She snatched a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped them away. “I don’t . . . mean to be a crybaby, but it’s been so hard since Mama died!”

  “I know it has, dear.”

  “Daddy . . . he’s been working
until dark, and we had to hire Madison Jones’ mother, Delilah, to take care of baby Corliss while I’m in school.”

  “I know it’s been hard for you, Lanie, but things are bound to get better. Are you keeping up with your writing at all?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t have time for anything like that.”

  Miss Dunsmore slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders and hugged her. She had grieved over Lanie Freeman’s fall from top student to average one. More than once she had offered to give her special help, but Lanie had no time even for that. She gave the girl a squeeze and said, “Next semester we’ll work out something.” She tried to think of something positive to say. “I was surprised that you won’t be in the Christmas pageant at church.”

  “I just didn’t have time, ma’am, but Maeva, Davis, and Cody are all in it.” Lanie gathered up her books.

  “Yes, I know, but I especially wanted you to be in it. I think—”

  The door opened and Dempsey Wilson, the school basketball coach, came in. “Merry Christmas to you, Lanie.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wilson.” She didn’t want the coach to see that she’d been crying, so she mumbled, “I have to go now.”

  “If I don’t see you before Christmas, watch out and don’t let Santa Claus burn up when he comes down through your chimney,” Dempsey said cheerfully.

  “No, sir, I won’t,” Lanie answered, but could not muster a smile.

  “Good-bye, Miss Dunsmore. Merry Christmas.” And she slipped out as quickly as she could.

  Lanie entered the house and took off her coat and cap and gloves. Her face was red from the cold. Going over to the potbellied stove in the living room, she put her hands out and flexed her fingers. “It’s downright cold out there, Delilah. I hope you wore a heavy coat.”

  Delilah Jones was sitting in the rocking chair with Corliss in her lap. She wore a faded light blue dress that reached down to her ankles. As mother of the pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Church, she took things seriously. “Of course I brought a long coat! God gave me sense to wear clothes—which is more than I kin say for some of these young girls.”

  Lanie was accustomed to Delilah’s preaching. She had said once, “Delilah does more preaching than her son, and louder too.” She reached down and picked up Corliss, who looked up cross-eyed for a moment, then straightened out her sight and chortled. Lanie squeezed her until she protested, then kissed her cheek. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Delilah.”

  “I don’t neither.” Delilah got up, moving slowly and stiffly, for she had rheumatism. She was a round woman in body and face. Her black moon face with warm, brown eyes could look sharp or kindly as her mood struck her. She pulled her lips together in a disapproving way and said, “I got to talk to you ’bout somethin’, Miss Lanie.”

  “Well, go ahead.”

  “You needs to get this here girl chil’ baptized.”

  Lanie smiled. “We’ve been over that. We’re Baptist, Delilah. We don’t baptize babies.”

  “Well, shame on you! You ort to! Now we Methodist folk knows how to take keer of dat.” She leaned forward and with a conspiratorial whisper said, “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you lemme take this here young’un to church with me Sunday. I’ll sneak her in and Madison will baptize her. Then she’ll be baptized right.”

  Lanie laughed. “I don’t think we could do that. We just feel differently about the business of baptizing.”

  Delilah drew herself up and said primly, “Well, be it on your own head, Lanie Freeman! I’m goin’ home now.”

  Lanie went with Delilah until she put on her heavy coat and pulled a hat down almost over her ears. She pulled on a pair of heavy work gloves and said, “I’ll be here in the mornin’.”

  “Thank you, Delilah. Like I’ve said, we couldn’t do without you.”

  “You certainly couldn’t—and lemme tell you dis: We may not agree on baptizin’, but I’m gonna pray that you’ll be enlightened”— she paused—“but I wants you to make them other chil’uns help you with the work. They’s lazy to the bone!”

  “Oh, they’re not really lazy, Delilah. They’re just young.”

  “Ha! That no-’count Maeva is jes one year younger than you is—and stronger! You make her do some work, you hear me! Cut a switch to ’er!”

  “I don’t think that would work. She can whip me any day.”

  “Then get your pappy to do it.”

  “No, I couldn’t tell Daddy about Maeva or the boys. We’ll work it out.”

  “Where is they anyways? Lemme wait around. I’ll tell ’em how the cow ate the cabbage!”

  “They had to stop by the church and meet with the preacher’s wife, something about the pageant. But they’ll be home pretty soon.”

  “Huh, I’ll bet dey will! You put ’em to work. It ain’t gonna hurt ’em none.”

  “I will, Delilah. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  As soon as Lanie closed the door behind Delilah, she put Corliss Jeanne in the baby bed, which was in the warm living room, and squeezed her fat cheek. “You stay right here, honey. You be good now and talk to your powder can.” She placed an empty Mennen’s talcum powder can beside the infant’s head, and at once Corliss began cooing at it. When all else failed to quiet Corliss, the can worked like magic!

  For the next twenty minutes Lanie busied herself cleaning the house. In all truth, it never got fully clean no matter how hard she tried.

  When she heard the door slam, she went downstairs to find Maeva standing over by the fire warming her hands. “Where’s Cody and Davis?” she asked.

  “They went huntin’.”

  “Hunting? Oh no they’re not!” Lanie ran to the door just as the boys were headed out of the yard. They had an old twenty-two single shot that they took turns using and did manage to get squirrels and rabbits now and then.

  “Davis! Cody! You come right back here!”

  Both boys turned, and Cody said stubbornly, “We’re goin’ huntin’. We need some squirrels.”

  “We don’t need squirrels. We need some work done. You come in the house right now!”

  “Aw, come on, Lanie!” Davis said. “We’re out of school. Let us have a break.”

  “You can go hunting when the work’s done.”

  “It’ll be dark then.”

  “Then you can go tomorrow. Now both wood boxes are empty. You two go split enough wood to fill both of them, in the kitchen and in the living room. And those wood crates Daddy brought need to be split into kindling too. And the stock has to be fed, and the cow has to be milked. Now get to it!”

  “Shoot!” Cody kicked the snow. “A fella never has any fun.”

  Davis shook his head. “We’d better get to it, I guess.”

  “I sure hope there ain’t no wood to be split in heaven,” Cody grumbled.

  “What are you talking about? Of course there won’t be no wood to be split in heaven!”

  “How’d you know? You ain’t never been there.”

  “Well, I know there ain’t nothin’ in the Bible about it.”

  Cody would argue with a stump, especially on theological matters.

  “It’s bound to get cold in heaven and somebody’s got to build a fire.”

  Davis gave Cody a disgusted look. “You have the dumbest ideas I ever heard, Cody! What makes you think it’ll be cold in heaven?”

  The two went to the woodpile and began splitting wood, Cody’s voice getting louder as he argued about the temperature in heavenly places.

  By the time Lanie got back in the house, she saw that Maeva had escaped. Corliss needed changing and was crying. Lanie had become expert at this. It was not a job that she cared for, but she had grown accustomed to it. When she got a fresh diaper on Corliss and pulled the baby’s pajamas back on, she put her back in the crib with her powder can. “Here’s your powder can. Now you can sing to it.”

  Lanie ran upstairs and threw open the door to Maeva’s room.

  “What do you want? You’re suppose
d to knock before you come into my room!” Maeva was lying on the bed reading a copy of True Romance.

  “You haven’t got time to read that romance junk. Where’d you get it anyhow?”

  “I got it from Alice Jinks, and I’ve got three more too.”

  “You don’t have any business reading them.”

  “I’ll read what I please!” Maeva said. “You read the books you want.

  I’ll read what I want.”

  Lanie took a deep breath. As mildly as she could, she said, “Corliss is almost out of diapers. You go down and wash them while I cook supper.”

  “I don’t want to wash them diapers. They stink.”

  “They have to be done, and you know it, Maeva, so don’t argue about it.”

  Maeva threw the magazine down and got off the bed. “You’re not gonna make a slave out of me!”

  “I’m not making a slave out of anybody.”

  “You are too! Let me tell you somethin’. You’re not my mama!”

  Lanie’s temper snapped. “If Mama were here, she wouldn’t be having this discussion with you! I can’t fix supper and wash clothes and clean the house all at the same time. Now you get down there and wash those diapers!”

  “What are you going to do if I won’t?” Maeva taunted. “You can’t whip me.”

  Maeva was right about that. She was strong and active, and in fights with larger girls always came out on top. “Maybe I can’t whip you, but I know somebody who can, and he’ll be home in plenty of time to do any whipping necessary.”

  “You ain’t nothin’ but a danged ol’ tattletale!” Maeva yelled. She ran out of the room, slamming the door.

  Lanie listened to her sister’s feet pound down the hall, then go down the stairs. She sat down on the bed, suddenly weak, barely resisting an overwhelming temptation to cry—she hated nagging the other kids.

  She struggled to regain her composure, and her eyes fell on the copy of True Romance. She picked it up and saw that a beautiful woman on the cover was smiling, and a man was holding her. The title of the story was “All a Woman Needs Is a Man.”