was hard enough already, and I hoped it wouldn’t get harder, with bad feelings and accusation on top of the strain of Samuel’s injury and the financial burden such loss was bound to create for George. I thought Sarah’s words very wise. “It doesn’t have to be somebody’s fault.” But my own son, among others, had been quick to find someone to blame. God help us. God especially help George to see what his words, his actions, could do.
Behind me, Franky continued his quiet recitation. Hearing him speak day to day and knowing how he still struggled to read, I found it was easy to forget how good his memory was, and how flawlessly he could repeat the words he heard our pastor say. Samuel didn’t wake or even move a muscle. But hearing the Ninety-first Psalm in the quiet of that room gave me peace.
“Because thou has’ made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee . . .”
10
Sarah
Emmie’d said last night was a bad night. Well, this was starting out to be a pretty bad day too. I kind of felt like screaming, if it would’ve helped anything at all. Daddy was just lying there downstairs in his bed. I wasn’t sure if he could get up if he did wake. And now Robert and Harry were accusing Franky of setting that fire.
Maybe it was Franky. Maybe he’d gone and fought with Lester, and they’d overturned a lantern. Or maybe he’d fought with Rorey. She would fight. She’d been in fights before. And Franky’d been in one just yesterday.
Why couldn’t he have just told on her? Maybe none of this would’ve happened if he would have just told his pa whatever he’d found Rorey up to.
I looked over at Georgie on the bed, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he woke up. Especially after Harry came up to Robert’s room the way he did, with no particular effort to be quiet. I knew I should go back downstairs pretty soon. We’d have to get breakfast for everybody who didn’t have sandwiches, and there was plenty more besides that to do. Mom would be occupied with Bert and Frank and Thelma’s new baby. Not to mention Dad.
Lord, heal my daddy. Wake him up. I couldn’t think of anything else to pray. I couldn’t think of anything more scary than having him lying there so still.
But another voice was nagging me, chasing away my prayers and making me feel guilty for even praying them.
It’s your fault. It’s your fault! And nothing will be right until you tell.
I knew I had to go back downstairs. I should tell Mom what I knew about Rorey first thing. But for a minute I stood looking at myself in the little wall mirror, wondering what Rorey might be thinking right now. Was she worrying about my dad and her brothers? Was she praying for them?
Down inside I really didn’t care what Robert or Harry said. Because even if Franky had started the fire, it probably had something to do with Rorey, who shouldn’t have been up, and Lester, who shouldn’t have been coming over. Then it wouldn’t be Franky’s fault, would it? It was Rorey’s fault. Surely it was. Rorey should’ve known better. At thirteen, she was too young for a boyfriend. But old enough to know it.
It wasn’t my fault. All I’d done was promise not to tell. And that’s what friends do. Who could expect me to do anything different? A promise is a promise, and Rorey would expect me to keep it. Of course she would. Even now.
Mom was being strong. And I knew I’d better get that way too, even though I was afraid I’d cry again if I went downstairs. But maybe Daddy was waking up right now. Maybe he’d smile that glad-to-see-my-pumpkin smile again. And then sit up and have breakfast and be just fine.
I could hope so. I could maybe even expect it, except I was afraid of feeling worse if it didn’t happen.
I looked out the window and saw Katie coming back to the house with a basket of eggs. Why couldn’t I be like Katie? Katie was always doing the things she was supposed to be doing. She
Behind me, Franky continued his quiet recitation. Hearing him speak day to day and knowing how he still struggled to read, I found it was easy to forget how good his memory was, and how flawlessly he could repeat the words he heard our pastor say. Samuel didn’t wake or even move a muscle. But hearing the Ninety-first Psalm in the quiet of that room gave me peace.
“Because thou has’ made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee . . .”
10
Sarah
Emmie’d said last night was a bad night. Well, this was starting out to be a pretty bad day too. I kind of felt like screaming, if it would’ve helped anything at all. Daddy was just lying there downstairs in his bed. I wasn’t sure if he could get up if he did wake. And now Robert and Harry were accusing Franky of setting that fire.
Maybe it was Franky. Maybe he’d gone and fought with Lester, and they’d overturned a lantern. Or maybe he’d fought with Rorey. She would fight. She’d been in fights before. And Franky’d been in one just yesterday.
Why couldn’t he have just told on her? Maybe none of this would’ve happened if he would have just told his pa whatever he’d found Rorey up to.
I looked over at Georgie on the bed, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he woke up. Especially after Harry came up to Robert’s room the way he did, with no particular effort to be quiet. I knew I should go back downstairs pretty soon. We’d have to get breakfast for everybody who didn’t have sandwiches, and there was plenty more besides that to do. Mom would be occupied with Bert and Frank and Thelma’s new baby. Not to mention Dad.
Lord, heal my daddy. Wake him up. I couldn’t think of anything else to pray. I couldn’t think of anything more scary than having him lying there so still.
But another voice was nagging me, chasing away my prayers and making me feel guilty for even praying them.
It’s your fault. It’s your fault! And nothing will be right until you tell.
I knew I had to go back downstairs. I should tell Mom what I knew about Rorey first thing. But for a minute I stood looking at myself in the little wall mirror, wondering what Rorey might be thinking right now. Was she worrying about my dad and her brothers? Was she praying for them?
Down inside I really didn’t care what Robert or Harry said. Because even if Franky had started the fire, it probably had something to do with Rorey, who shouldn’t have been up, and Lester, who shouldn’t have been coming over. Then it wouldn’t be Franky’s fault, would it? It was Rorey’s fault. Surely it was. Rorey should’ve known better. At thirteen, she was too young for a boyfriend. But old enough to know it.
It wasn’t my fault. All I’d done was promise not to tell. And that’s what friends do. Who could expect me to do anything different? A promise is a promise, and Rorey would expect me to keep it. Of course she would. Even now.
Mom was being strong. And I knew I’d better get that way too, even though I was afraid I’d cry again if I went downstairs. But maybe Daddy was waking up right now. Maybe he’d smile that glad-to-see-my-pumpkin smile again. And then sit up and have breakfast and be just fine.
I could hope so. I could maybe even expect it, except I was afraid of feeling worse if it didn’t happen.
I looked out the window and saw Katie coming back to the house with a basket of eggs. Why couldn’t I be like Katie? Katie was always doing the things she was supposed to be doing. She
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