The Miracle, page 11
“Only two years and now it seems an eternity,” Lanie whispered. She studied the houses up and down the street. Lanie knew some of the families, but others were a mystery to her. Still, every house in Fairhope had its trouble, its tragedy, and its good times too.
A tiny scratching at the door suddenly caught her attention. She turned as Cap’n Brown pranced into the room. She uttered a small cry of disgust when she looked down. “Cap’n Brown, you’re a bad kitty!”She extracted a tiny wriggling mouse from Cap’n Brown’s mouth. He often brought her “gifts,” and Lanie had been the recipient of baby squirrels, tiny rabbits, shrews, mice, and grasshoppers — anything small enough for Cap’n Brown to carry.
Lanie cupped the tiny creature in her hand but noted the perfection of his shiny fur and the brightness of the bright, frightened eyes that looked up at her. She marveled at the perfection of the tiny whiskers and remembered a line of poetry she had read from Walt Whitman: “A mouse is miracle enough to satisfy thousands of infidels.” The words had always pleased her, for it seemed it did not take a great deal of wisdom to see that even a tiny creature such as a mouse was a miracle.
She put the little creature in a small box from her dresser and for a moment watched as he twitched his nose and raised himself up on his hind legs. A sudden strange thought came to her, and she looked down at Cap’n Brown. “Cap’n Brown, I don’t know if there are animals in heaven or not, but if there are cats, they won’t be able to catch mice.”
Cap’n Brown looked up at her. He was a large cat, a Manx, with no tail and enormously strong hind legs. He reared up and dug his claws into her skirt and said, “Wow!” clearly.
“No. Even if there are lions, they’ll have to eat whatever we eat in heaven. Manna, I guess — or milk and honey.”
Suddenly Lanie laughed at herself. “Lanie Freeman, you have the craziest thoughts in the world! It’s a wonder they don’t lock you up in an institution.”
She placed the lid on the box, put it down, and took her mother’s coat off the peg on the wall. It was wool with a rabbit fur neckpiece and had been a gift from her father. She remembered the day he bought it. As she put it on, it gave her a warm sense of identifying with her mother. There were times when she felt her mother’s presence as clearly as if she were in the room. At other times she missed her so much she had to bite her lip to keep from weeping.
She plucked her mother’s cloth hat off of another peg, pulled it down over her head, and returned to the fireplace to place the screen in front of the still crackling fire. Cap’n Brown at once came over, curled up, and lay down with a sigh. His eyes closed as he purred with contentment.
“I wish I didn’t have any more worries and troubles than you do, Cap’n Brown,” Lanie whispered, and then she turned and left the room. Stepping to the door next to hers, she gave it a short knock.
“Let’s go, Cass. It’s time.”
The door opened after a pause, and Cass stood there. “Do I have to go?”
“Certainly you have to go. Doctor Merritt needs to look at you.
Now put your coat on.”
Cass turned and moved reluctantly across the room. She was seven months along now and her stomach plainly showed. She picked up a coat that had once belonged to Maeva, put it on, and then pulled a hat down over her ears.
“It’s cold out there,” Lanie said.
“I don’t want to go. I hate to go to town.”
“Why do you hate to go to town? You need to get out of the house, Cass.”
“Everybody looks at me.”
“No, they don’t. That’s your imagination. Come along now. We’re going to have a good time. After you see Doctor Merritt, we’ll go to the library and find something good to read. Come along now. We’ll have a good time.”
The two descended the stairs, and they found Aunt Kezia and Corliss seated at the kitchen table. They were playing a game of solitaire with a pack of Aunt Kezia’s cards that looked as if they had been around for a hundred years. The edges were worn, and they were thickened with age, making them almost impossible to shuffle.
Aunt Kezia played solitaire as fiercely as some soldiers made war. Her games were accompanied by shouts of exaltation when she turned over a good card and howls of grief when she was beaten. She slammed the cards down and pushed them around with a fierce intensity. Corliss enjoyed howling and thumping the table along with her aunt.
“You enjoy solitaire better than anybody I ever saw, Aunt Kezia.”
“Well, I’m losing this dratted game. Corliss here can play better than me.”
“It’s all a matter of luck. There’s no skill involved in it,” Lanie insisted. She knew this was a losing argument, for Aunt Kezia was convinced that intelligence had a lot to do with beating Old Sol, as she called it.
“I remember Wild Bill Hickok. He’d come into the Lady Gay Saloon and play solitaire. My husband, Mr. Butterworth, told me about it. He said he could win two times out of three. Nobody ever saw nothing like it. Mr. Butterworth always said he was such a no-good rascal he cheated even at solitaire when there wasn’t no money involved.”
Cass was staring at Aunt Kezia. “You actually saw Wild Bill Hickok?”
“Certainly did, the no-count varmint! Should have been shot a long time before he was.”
“You’re a bad influence on these girls,” Lanie laughed despite herself. “We’re going now, and we’ll be late getting back.”
“I want to go too,” Corliss said.
“No, it’s too cold for you. You stay here with Aunt Kezia.”
Aunt Kezia nodded. “Right. Let ’em go on. Me and you will make popcorn, and we’ll make hot chocolate. Then we’ll listen to Lum and Abner on the radio.”
This satisfied Corliss. She kissed both girls and then went back to watching the solitaire game.
The young women left the house and got into the pickup. It ground so slowly Lanie was afraid it wouldn’t start. But it finally caught, and the engine clanked along merrily. “I’ve got to have Pardue do something with this old truck. It sounds like it’s on its last leg.”
As they made their way toward the doctor’s office, Cass suddenly turned and said, “Lanie, I’m worried about Davis . . . that he won’t graduate.”
“I know, Cass. I am too. We’ll just have to trust God though.
We’ve done everything we can do.”
“You really think God will help him? God knows about little stuff like that?”
“Why, Cass, the Bible says He knows when a sparrow falls. Just one little sparrow. And in another place He says the hairs of our head are numbered.” She reached over and playfully tugged at a wisp of hair that had escaped Cass’s cap. She smiled and said, “I don’t know how many hairs you got in your head, but God knows. If He knows that, He knows Davis needs Him. Now, don’t worry.”
Doctor Merritt’s office had been half full when Lanie and Cass arrived. When the last patient left, Nurse Bertha Pickens said, “You can go in now, Miss Johnson.”
Lanie watched as Cass, looking extremely nervous, moved across the room and entered the inner office. As soon as she was gone, Bertha Pickens turned to Lanie and said, “That’s a shame about that girl being in her condition.”
“I think she’ll be all right. She’s a healthy young woman.”
“I didn’t mean that. I mean her having a baby and not being married.”
There was no answer to make to this, and Lanie just continued to look through the copy of Liberty that she had been reading.
But Nurse Pickens was not to be denied. “I suppose you heard about that Amelia Wright woman.”
“She’s been coming to our church,” Lanie said.
“Well, I’m glad to hear she goes to church somewhere. I went by and invited her personal to come to our church, but she wouldn’t even listen to me. She comes regular, does she?”
“She’s there every Sunday.”
“Bet I know why. She sits with Doctor Merritt, don’t she?”
Lanie had no choice but to admit it, and when she did, Nurse Pickens sniffed. “I warned him about getting tied up with another woman. You know how it is when a man gets rejected by a woman. Men don’t have much sense anyway, and she’s just liable to get him on the rebound.”
“Oh, I think Doctor Merritt is wise enough to be careful.”
“Speaking of that, being wise and being careful, there’s something I need to mention to you. Of course it’s none of my business, but if I was doing something that wasn’t wise, I’d want somebody to tell me about it.”
Instantly Lanie stiffened. “What is it, Miss Pickens?”
“It’s all over town about how you visit that writer fellow from New York, just you and him in the house alone.” Nurse Pickens put the full force of her gaze on Lanie. “I’ve known you since you were a child, so I feel it’s my duty to warn you that what you’re doing ain’t Chris tian.”
“I just stopped in one time for a few minutes.”
“The Bible says avoid the very appearance of evil. Well, I don’t take no pleasure in delivering these messages, but since your mama’s dead and your pa’s in prison, somebody’s got to look out for you.”
Lanie wished desperately that Nurse Pickens would “look out for”somebody else. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll be more careful,” she said, and bit her tongue to keep from saying more. She turned the pages of the magazine, hoping the inquisition was over.
When the door opened and Cass came out with Doctor Merritt, she could have shouted with relief. She got up at once and smiled. “Hello, Doctor.”
“Hello, Lanie.” Owen returned her smile, then turned to Nurse Pickens. “I want you to go through our vitamin samples and see if you can’t fish some out for Miss Johnson here. Lanie, come in for a moment. I’ve got something to tell you.”
Lanie followed him into his office, and he shut the door. “I didn’t want Nurse Pickens to hear this. Might as well put it on the front page of the Sentinel.”
“Is it about Cass?”
“Cass? Oh, no. She’s fine,” Owen said with a slight surprise. “Never saw a healthier young woman. Of course it’s too bad about the circumstances. I haven’t had a chance to tell you how much I admire you for looking out for her.”
Lanie basked in the warmth of the compliment and shrugged. “It’s the least we can do.”
“This is what I wanted to show you, Lanie.” He marched over to his desk and pulled out an envelope. “I wrote to a friend of mine who practices in St. Louis. He’s not an MD, but he and I got to be friends in college. He teaches at the university. I wrote him about Davis, and he said he had been doing some experimental work with young people who have exactly the same problem.”
Hope sprang up at once in Lanie. “What did he say?”
“He said it would be good if he could examine Davis. I really think we ought to send him.”
Instantly Lanie computed the cost. It irritated her that her first thought had to be about money, but even so she did not hesitate. “We’ll find the means somehow.”
“Of course you will. Just a matter of timing and getting an appointment with my friend. His name is Doctor Smith, by the way. John Smith. Isn’t that an unusual, exotic name? I always called him Studs because I said his name was too common.” He grinned. “I also called him that just to make him mad. You talk to Davis. Tell him Doctor Smith thinks he might be able to help. We’ll get him there. Don’t worry.”
A feeling of warmth suddenly swept over Lanie. “You’ve done so much for us, Owen. I can never thank you enough.”
“No trouble at all. You know how I feel about your whole family.”
Lanie studied his face for a moment and then asked, “How are you doing, Owen?”
Owen smiled. “I suppose you’re talking about my love life.” He laughed. “Why, you’re blushing, Lanie. That’s good to see.”
“I didn’t mean to pry. I suppose you get enough of that from Nurse Pickens.”
“That’s for sure. Well, here’s what’s surprising. I thought that I’d really be shaken and emotionally damaged when Louise dumped me, but it never happened. I kept waiting for it. Every morning I’d wake up and I’d think, ‘This is the day it’ll hit me. I’ll know how bad off I am.’ But it never happened.”
“I’m glad, Owen!”
“Well, it means one thing, Lanie.” Owen shook his head in wonder. “It means I wasn’t really in love with Louise Langley. It also means I fooled myself pretty badly — so I’ll have to be more careful in the future.”
It took all of Lanie’s strength not to blurt out, Then why are you hanging around Amelia Wright? But she knew that would be exactly the wrong thing to say. “I’m sure you will,” she said as she stood. “Will you let me pay you for this visit?”
Owen stood with her and walked her to the door. “You know I won’t. As a matter of fact, not one person out of ten that comes through that door has the means to pay me. This Depression’s that bad. Now, you scoot on out of here. I’ll see you at prayer meeting.”
Lanie left and, with Cass in tow, she headed to the library, and Lanie helped Cass pick out three books by Grace Livingston Hill, a woman who was writing fine Christian novels.
When they started toward home in the truck, Cass turned to Lanie. “Doctor Merritt says I’m fine. That my baby’s going to be healthy.”
“Of course it is.”
“I like Doctor Merritt, don’t you?”
Lanie smiled. “Yes. I like Doctor Owen Merritt very much indeed.”
The weather had cleared up and the sun was shining bright in a cloudless blue sky. March sometimes brought such days when the warmth of the sun would touch the frozen earth of the Ozarks. It should have been a perfect day for Maeva and Lanie to take the Freeman’s Rolling Emporium out, but they returned disappointed after only moderate success.
Maeva sat beside Lanie, hunched over with her hands in her pockets. “Things are going to have to be better than this, or we’re not going to make it with this business.”
“It’ll be better when spring gets here, but I’ve got some good news.” She then told Maeva about the man in St. Louis who might be able to help Davis.
“What good does that do? He might as well be on the moon. We don’t have the money.”
“No, Maeva, you know God can do it. He’s done it before for us. Remember how, when we were about to lose our house, we thought an angel was leaving money, and all the time it was Annie?”
“Well, Annie doesn’t have any money this time. I wish I could go to St. Louis or Little Rock or somewhere. I hate this town!”
“Maeva, don’t say that! Fairhope’s a fine town. There are good people here.”
“Oh, I know it.” Maeva shrugged. “I just get bored out of my skull. You know what I’d like to do?” She turned and her eyes were alight with hope. “I’d like to be a singer or maybe a movie star.”
That was about the last hope Lanie would have for her sister, but she carefully did not argue with her. She knew better, for if anyone would argue more than Cody, it was Maeva. “Look. There’s Brent’s house. I’ll bet he’ll buy something,” Maeva said.
Lanie said, “No. We can’t impose on him.” But at that moment Brent stepped out, called loudly, and motioned to them.
Lanie steered the Emporium toward his house, and when they stopped, Brent smiled at them. He was wearing a cardigan sweater and a pair of gray flannel slacks, and he looked very handsome. “Get out, ladies. I’ll give you something to warm you up.”
Instantly Maeva was off the seat onto the ground, and with a sigh, Lanie followed.
Ten minutes later they were drinking hot chocolate, and Brent pulled out a canister. “I got these things from the store. They’re called moon pies.”
“Ooh, I love moon pies!” Maeva said.
“Well, you can have them all. I hate them.” Brent shook his head.
“They taste like wax to me.”
“How would you know what wax tastes like?” Maeva grinned mischievously. “Did you ever eat any?”
“No. But that’s what I think they’d taste like. Hey, I got some new records I want to play for you. I ordered them from the store in Fort Smith.”
Going over to the table, he wound a handle on a portable record player and carefully put a record on. “This one’s by Bing Crosby, that singer everybody’s going crazy about.” He played the record and then several others while Maeva ate the moon pies and washed them down with hot chocolate. Finally she said, “Tell us about New York. What’s it like, Brent?”
For the next thirty minutes Brent told them stories of living in New York. As Maeva listened, her eyes filled with envy. “I’d give anything,”she sighed, “if I could go to New York where there’s some life.”
“Well, there’s some life there, all right. But it’s not all good.” Brent shrugged.
“I want to be a movie star or a singer.”
“You’re pretty enough,” Brent said.
Maeva perked up. “You really think so?”
“Yes. But there are probably fifty thousand more who are pretty enough. They go to New York or Hollywood, go on stage, or get in the movies, and they find out it’s not the fairyland that they thought it would be. I’ve seen lots of young women have tragic experiences there. It’s not really a nice place. Not nearly as nice as Fairhope.”
Suddenly Brent turned to Lanie and said, “I’m glad you came by. Guess who’s going to be in Fort Smith March 4?”
“I have no idea,” Lanie said. “Who is it?”
“Robert Frost.”
Lanie stared at him. “You mean Robert Frost the poet?”
“He’s your favorite, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. What’s he doing in Fort Smith?”
“Some kind of a reading tour. You know, to publicize his books.I’m going to go, and I was going to come by your house tonight and ask you to go with me. A writer like you needs to hear men like that.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.” Lanie’s mind went at once to Nurse Bertha Pickens. If she had made so much of a quick visit in a house, what would she make of a trip all the way to Fort Smith with a man? “I don’t think I could possibly go, but I appreciate your asking.”
