I came home after my visit with Reverend Sam to find Ruth sitting at the desk in the library working on her scrapbook. I needed to clear the air between us and I took a deep breath as I stood in the doorway.
“Ruth,” I said, “I want to apologize for upsetting you after Lucy’s funeral yesterday.”
She didn’t lift her head from her work as she pasted a small news article into the scrapbook. “I shouldn’t have made a scene in front of everyone,” she admitted, surprising me. “That sort of discussion should be private. Now let’s close the subject.” She whisked me away with her hand.
I stood there another moment before leaving the doorway, then I crossed the foyer and climbed the steps to my room. I was surprised by her near apology. It had been more than I’d expected.
At dinner that night, though, she insisted on having a place set for Lucy across the table from me. Henry acted as though nothing were amiss, but Hattie and I exchanged a look. Either Ruth wanted to keep a place open for Lucy because she couldn’t bear the loss, or this was her way of reminding me of my role in her death. We could close the subject, as Ruth had said, but I had the feeling the empty chair at the table was going to keep it open for all time.
* * *
Two days later, I was reading in the upstairs parlor when Henry came home from the factory. I heard him on the stairs and it sounded as if he were taking them two at a time. He was nearly breathless when he walked into the room.
“Have you listened to the radio today?” he asked, and I closed my book, instantly on edge.
“Is there news from Europe?” I asked. Every day, the Allied forces were advancing on one town or another, and I only hoped that whatever news Henry had was good. I couldn’t tell from his expression.
“No, no,” he said, sitting down on the arm of one of the upholstered chairs. “Nothing about the war. It’s about the polio epidemic. There’s going to be a meeting tonight at the high school. Everyone in town is supposed to be there. The Lake Hickory Fresh Air Camp’s being turned into a hospital for polio patients.”
“Really?” I frowned. I’d seen the Fresh Air Camp where underprivileged children played and swam during the summer. The only building I recalled being on that property was a small stone structure that could hardly be turned into a hospital. “That building is tiny,” I said. “How can it be a hospital?”
“They’re adding on to it,” he said. “Do you know who H. C. Whims is?”
“The public health doctor for the county?”
“Right. He met with some men from the National Polio Foundation this morning. Charlotte won’t take any more patients and since most of the sick kids are from this area, they decided to look in Hickory for a building they could convert into a hospital. But it’s going to have to happen fast.” I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look so excited. “Lumber’s already on its way for a second structure,” he said. “I’ve been working at the camp this afternoon. Zeke too. And I’ve let some of my men take off to help. They’re over there, working.” He sounded like a man with a purpose. “It’s going to take all of Hickory to make this happen,”
I’d clearly missed a lot by not listening to the radio. “Are you going to the meeting?” I asked.
“Yes, and you are too.” He stood up. “My mother as well. Everyone’s supposed to be there. I’m sure Adora will go, so I can give her the money for the headstone if I see her.”
“Oh,” I said. “I actually took care of that.”
He looked down at me, confusion on his face. “What are you talking about?”
“I withdrew forty dollars from my bank account—that’s about the amount that was lost in the accident—and I took it to her.”
“You went to Ridgeview?” He frowned. “How did you get there?”
“I took a cab there and the bus back,” I said. I could tell he wasn’t pleased.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he said. “I would have gotten the money to them eventually.”
“I wanted to do it for Lucy,” I said. “And I know you’ve been busy, so I—”
“You shouldn’t go to that neighborhood,” he said.
“I don’t mind at all,” I said. “Lucy said your family takes care of Adora, so I can take them food sometimes, and—”
“It’s not for you to do,” he said. “You don’t even know them.”
“Well, I’m getting to know them,” I said, annoyed. “Jilly’s so adorable. She has that white doll and I know of a place in Baltimore where I may be able to get her a colored doll. Gina can buy it for me. Don’t you think that would be—”
“I think you need to stay out of their lives.” His cheeks were suddenly blotchy with color. “Maybe y’all mixed like that where you’re from but we don’t do that here. All right?”
I bristled. “No, we didn’t ‘mix’ where I’m from,” I said. “But Lucy—”
“Lucy’s dead,” he said bluntly as he walked toward the door.
“Adora told me about the day she saved your life,” I said, just as bluntly. I wanted to bring him down off his high horse. “And she told me how other kids picked on you and how Zeke and Honor were your only friends.”
He glared at me. “Adora isn’t the official historian of my life, all right?” he said. “And I don’t want you going there again.”
I thought it was a good thing that he left the room before I had a chance to answer. I felt like an oppositional child. The more he told me not to do something the more I wanted to do it. I hoped Gina could find that doll. I couldn’t wait for it to arrive. I couldn’t wait to take it to Jilly.