Stardust A Novel (31 page)
I shook my head. “No, we won’t tell him. And for the record, you worry too much about the sheriff. He has a good heart, and we’ll just tell him Sebastian led us to the girls.”
Ludi shuffled off and came back in with Avril. “Lordamercy, this girl’s burnin’ plumb up!” She handed her to me. Avril’s body was limp with sleep, but her face was hot as fire.
Traipsing through the open field to Ludi’s in the night air might have brought on a fever, but another thought plowed into my brain.
Swoosh. Clank. Wheeze.
Sounds of the respiratory ward roared in my head.
No, dear Lord. No!
Even in the lantern glow, I saw the flush on her cheeks.
The same look Fiona Callahan had the night polio struck.
P
eter drove as fast as he could over the narrow roads. When he turned onto the main highway, Avril stirred and mumbled, “My head hurts.”
“It’s okay, sugar. We’re going to take care of you.”
We dropped Rosey and Bonnie off at the Stardust, and I asked Peter to run in and give Mary Frances and Malcolm a quick explanation and to have them call the sheriff and tell him the girls were safe.
Two of them, anyway. God only knew about Avril.
Although my insides churned and frothed with worry, I tried to force the sounds and smells from the polio ward from my thoughts. But they sneaked in anyway. The discordant rhythms of the iron lungs wheezing, groaning. The cries from those confined in the life-sustaining machines.
From inside Peter’s car, the first rays of morning gave a peach glow to the horizon, illuminating Avril’s face, her discomfort evident in the pucker of her brows, the protruding bottom lip. I kissed the top of her head and tightened the hold of my arms around her.
Time took on a new dimension as we rushed to the hospital, through the emergency doors, and into a curtained cubicle. As Doc Kelley conducted his exam, I wanted him to be done, to tell us it was only the flu, a bad case of too much night air, or a bad dream. But then he called the nurse and asked for a spinal tray. He positioned Avril in a fetal position and asked me to hold her. He pulled on gloves and worked behind her, talking gently.
“You’ll feel a stick when I put this magic medicine in to numb you. Now, I want you to hold still as a mouse. You’ll feel pressure in your back while I take a sample of your spinal fluid.”
He took a long needle from a tray and asked the nurse if she was ready. She held up a clear tube and nodded. When he poised the needle, I turned away, my fingers digging into the chubby flesh of my daughter.
“It’s okay, sweetie. You’re going to be okay.” I repeated the words over and over, the mantra for myself as well as Avril.
She screamed when the needle pierced her spine, and it seemed to pierce my heart as well.
Doc talked quietly to the nurse, but I closed off my mind and begged God to have mercy, to touch Avril’s body, to take the sickness from her. Behind me, I felt a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder and heard Aunt Cora whisper, “It’s all right, Georgia. I’m praying, sugar.”
Relief, like a cleansing rain, came over me, and I was glad for whoever had called her. Tears slid down my cheeks and pooled in the bend of my elbow.
When he was finished, Doc patted Avril’s cheek and told her she’d done well. He looked at me and sighed. “We’ll know before long if we’re dealing with infantile paralysis. She’ll have to lie flat on her back for a few hours now to keep her from getting a headache.”
I nodded. It seemed ironic since she already had one when we came in.
As he walked out the door, he muttered, “This is no way to start the morning.”
When we got to her room, Peter said he’d better go and straighten things out with the sheriff and would check on us later. Aunt Cora assured him she’d stay until he got back. Avril slept in fits and starts, trying to turn onto her side. I hovered over her, rubbing her arms and legs with the back of my finger to keep her still. It seemed an eternity before a nurse came and told me she’d sit with Avril, that Doc wanted to speak to Aunt Cora and me in the hall.
Aunt Cora took my hand in hers and led me through the door.
The lines in Doc’s face looked deeper than ever, but his eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of us. “I have good news. We saw no abnormalities in the spinal fluid. Whatever we’re dealing with is not polio.”
My body went limp, every hope and prayer I’d clung to now holding me up. My teeth chattered from the quivers in my jaws. “Oh, my. Are you sure?”
“Nearly positive. I think she has a virus of some sort, but it’s not polio. Her throat is pink, but her tonsils aren’t swollen. The stiffness in her neck is most likely the flu. All of her reflexes are normal, with no pain in any of her joints. If I were guessing, I’d say it’s an upper respiratory condition.”
We thanked him. Shook his hand. Then Aunt Cora and I embraced and clung to each other until we were both crying and laughing at the same time.
Doc wanted Avril to stay a couple more hours as a precaution, but he thought she’d be right as rain in a few days.
It was all I’d prayed for and more.
Aunt Cora insisted that Avril and I come home with her. “It’s quieter there, and she needs rest. From what I’ve heard, y’all were up half the night.”
Doc agreed that being closer to the hospital in case we had other concerns was a good idea. Peter returned as we were fixing to leave.
“Mrs. Benning’s gone back to Arkansas. The sheriff told her she would have to apply for guardianship with the state of Texas before he would let her take Bonnie. She wasn’t happy and thought she should at least get a reimbursement for her wasted trip.”
I blew out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “What a relief. It makes me wonder if I even want them to look for this Inez woman.”
Aunt Cora frowned. “Who’s Inez?”
“The woman I told you about. Fiona’s sister. Bonnie talked about
Aunt Eyes,
but we couldn’t figure out she meant Inez. At least Mrs. Benning provided us with that information, so all is not lost.”
Peter smiled. “I have some good news there.”
My stomach somersaulted. “They found her?”
“I told Sheriff Bolander about her since Cora was busy here with you and couldn’t start the process with the March of Dimes people. He made some calls, and it turns out a woman named Inez Lombardy lives next door to one of the police officers in Kilgore. She’s been worried about her sister. They’re going to talk to her this evening.”
“What if she’s as horrible as Mrs. Benning?”
“The officer said she and her husband are good citizens from what he can tell. Her husband’s the manager of the Piggly Wiggly.”
“Did he know the husband’s name?”
“No. Why?”
“Bonnie mentioned a man named Uncle Mitch. I think it might be Inez’s husband.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to find out. I’m thinking of driving over there Monday if it’s the right people. It’s going to be a shock when they find this out.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I called the mill, told them what was going on. They said to take all the time I need.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. But I said I’d see you through this, and that’s what I aim to do.”
“How can I ever thank you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.” His eyes danced, and it was all I could do not to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, but with Aunt Cora looking on, I refrained.
Aunt Cora picked Avril up and said, “Let’s go home.”
Avril still had a slight fever and didn’t argue when I told her she needed to lie down. I settled her in the bedroom that had been mine growing up. Little had changed. The same yellowed lace curtains hung at the windows. The pink organza bedspread with the ink stain. When I pulled the spread up and looked at the irregular-shaped mark, a memory stirred.
I’d been sitting in the middle of my bed writing a letter to O’Dell to tell him I’d decided not to marry him after all. If he was unfaithful before we married, I could only imagine what my life would be like afterward.
I’d just refilled my pen from the ink bottle, anxious to get the words down while I had the courage.
I’ll go away and give the baby up for adoption. It’s best for all of us.
Tears streaked down my face and fell onto the paper, smearing the words. I gripped the pen. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be a mother. I did. But I wanted a husband who loved me and would be true. A child deserved two parents—two devoted parents—who wouldn’t decide one day to dump the child with a relative.
Aunt Cora knocked and came in before I’d finished. “Oh, goodness, what’s wrong?”
I told her about O’Dell and my decision to call off the wedding.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. He’s just sowing his wild oats. Be thankful he’s getting it out of his system. Come on. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.” She’d leaned over to give me a hug and bumped the ink bottle. The stopper wasn’t in tight, and ink poured out like the shame I carried in my womb.
“What if he doesn’t get it out of his system? What would I do then?”
“The same thing women have always done. Hold your head up and smile. It’s uncomely to air your dirty laundry in public. In your condition, you should be thanking your lucky stars he’s willing to marry you.” She gave me a hug. “I came up to tell you the irises look too much like funeral flowers, so I’m going to see if we can find peonies instead. Besides, they have such a lovely scent.”
The irises might have been the better choice, and I could have protested. I could have packed my bags and gone. I might have, but when Aunt Cora left my room that day, I was lying on my bed running my finger around the ink blob when a strange stirring came in my abdomen. As soft as the breath of a butterfly but as quick as a firefly on a June evening, it came again. I
could
decide not to marry O’Dell Peyton. But in that moment, I knew the one thing I could never do was give up the life growing inside me. My sweet Rosey. Two weeks later, I stood in the gazebo behind Mara Lee and said “I do.”
Now, Avril stirred under the sheet, her lips quirked in a slumbering smile. I felt her forehead, which was almost cool. The aspirin had helped, and I knew I’d made the right choice that day seven years ago. O’Dell had been a good father when he was around. It was just all the other times keeping my chin up that my heart felt shattered.
Downstairs, the phone rang for the third time since we’d been home. The weariness of the past twenty-four hours caught up with me, and I let my head relax into the pillow. As I was drifting off, I thought I heard Mr. Sweeney’s voice downstairs. I smiled. Aunt Cora and her suitors. At least I liked this one. When I woke up, I was surprised that the moon shone through the lace at the window.
Aunt Cora peeked around the door. “Still doing okay?”
I nodded and went out in the hall with her. “Your phone’s been awfully busy.”
“We’re getting down to the wire with the charity event. People are still worried with the new cases last week, but they also want to fight back. I think we’ll have a good turnout.”
I sat on the top step of the staircase. “I’m looking forward to it being a busy weekend at the Stardust, too, although most of the rooms are spoken for by Mr. Sweeney and his musicians.”
“I suppose they have to stay somewhere. By the way, Peter stopped by and dropped off a bag for you. He said Rosey packed you some things.”
“That should be interesting.”
“Your young man is nice.”
“Peter?”
“Who else would I be talking about?”
“He gets a lot of credit for getting the Stardust remodeled.”
She waved away the remark. “You know how I feel about that place. I only mentioned Peter because he seems a decent sort, and it gives me some consolation that, with him there, you’re not quite as vulnerable to tramps or criminals darkening your door.”
“Your fears are ungrounded. All of the people who’ve come to the Stardust have been nice. One man says he’s been every summer for thirty years.”
“Someone I know?”
“Malcolm Overstreet.”
“It sounds familiar, but I can’t place him.”