Rorey's Secret Page 3

“The whole business was Franky’s idea,” I reminded him. “WH Hardwoods might never have happened—”

  “Do you want walnuts sprinkled on the cake?” Katie suddenly asked.

  “Sure,” William told her. “Do what you want.”

  I looked at both of them and back over at George and decided to let it drop about Franky for now. There were other things to think about, and it wasn’t helping anyone to have me arguing with George Hammond.

  I started wondering just exactly how long ago Ben and Samuel had left and when they could possibly be getting back. They had about ten miles to the doctor, and maybe a stop for Mrs. Pratt. It’d be a while, unfortunately.

  We set out all the food buffet style, since there wasn’t room for everyone at the table. Folks could sit wherever they wanted to. Kirk and William were itching to get started and pretty upset at Franky for the delay. He should’ve been here long ago, they thought, since he’d left to find the schoolteacher way before they started for home.

  Oh, well, I thought. He’s surely on the way. Their house wasn’t very far. And Elvira Post wouldn’t keep him long, with her ailing husband wanting supper. She seemed uncomfortable around Franky most of the time anyway, though she freely supplied him with books. He couldn’t be much longer.

  I went in to check on Thelma while we waited. She was sweating again, but the labor pains seemed no worse. William and Robert impatiently started a game of checkers. Rorey traipsed around the kitchen a few times, trying to look useful, and then went out and sat on the back porch. Finally, after quite a while, she hollered, “He’s here!”

  She must have meant Franky, of course, but she didn’t say so. I glanced out the window and was immediately glad I did. Franky’s limp looked far worse than usual. He was hurt, I could tell.

  I rushed out the door, thinking that surely George was right behind me. But when I got to Franky, it was Kirk speaking up at my side, and I saw that George hadn’t even come outside.

  “Fight! You was in a fight!”

  Franky didn’t say anything in reply to his brother, didn’t even look his way. Instead, I saw his gaze resting on Rorey, who hadn’t moved from the back porch step.

  He was banged up a little, with one eye going purplish and a cut on his lip.

  “What happened, Frank?” I asked him. “Goodness, are you all right?”

  “I’m all right.”

  Kirk smiled hugely. “Fought back this time, didn’t you, Franky? Finally had enough?”

  I knew how some of the other boys in the area treated Franky, teasing him mercilessly when they got the chance. But how had he encountered anyone today? School was let out already, and I wouldn’t have expected anyone to be between here and the Posts’ farm. Neither Elvira’s husband nor her brother-in-law would have let such a thing go on anyway, if they’d seen it.

  “Who was it?” Kirk persisted. “Bobby Mueller? Or the Everly twins? I heard they was doin’ some work on Mueller’s farrowing house.”

  “Be quiet, Kirk,” I commanded. “Franky, can we help you to the house?”

  “I don’t need help. Better wash up, though, ’fore Pa sees me.”

  “Ah, he won’t mind much,” said Harry, who’d suddenly come up alongside us. “If somebody fights at you, you got a right to fight back. He knows that. Looks like you got whupped, though, Franky. Did you get whupped?” Franky looked from one brother to the other but didn’t say a word, and I didn’t feel like pressing him for any explanations. Maybe I could talk to him about it later. Maybe. When no one else was around to be enjoying the story.

  Franky handed me the book in his hand. “Sorry if it got mussed. I might have to make it up to Mrs. Post. She didn’t really want me to take it, anyway. Didn’t think I’d understand it.”

  I looked down at the volume and smiled. Silas Marner by George Eliot. Why was it so hard for others to see the searching mind that made Franky want to reach out for books like this? I knew he’d sit just as long as I’d let him, soaking up every word the way he’d done with all the other books I’d read.

  “Ugh!” Kirk said quickly. “What do you want with that book, Franky? No wonder people tease you. You’re just plain odd.”

  That didn’t deserve a reply, and Franky knew it. I tried to take his arm, but he wouldn’t let me. He limped the rest of the way to the house all on his own, pulled off his shirt on the porch, and washed up best he could. I tried to help, but he’d barely let me touch him. He looked in Rorey’s direction just once more, and she went back inside without saying anything. I wondered what was going on between them.

  Franky wasn’t hurt badly, but his eye was getting blacker, and the cut lip made him look pretty awful. The knuckles on one hand were banged up too, leading me to think that maybe Kirk had been right about him fighting back, as out of character as that seemed. I wasn’t sure why his limp was worse, but somebody had lit into him pretty frightfully, and I really would have liked an explanation.

  “Kirk,” I commanded, “get me some warm water from the kettle on the stove. And Harry, run and get one of Robert’s shirts for me, will you?”

  When they were both gone, I tried to dab at Franky’s eye. “Will you tell me who did this?”

  He smiled just a little. “You’re a real good mom, Mrs. Wortham. But don’t fuss on me, okay?”

  George stepped out the back door, and I hoped he’d be gracious. Seven years had gone by since his wife had died, and he’d relied on Samuel and me for so much. Most of the time, he’d tried to do his best for his children. Surely he could find a way for Franky now.

  “What’s this you’ve got yourself into?” he started immediately, much to my dismay. “Here we are, all waitin’ while you go galavantin’ after some book, and then fightin’ on top a’ that! It’s your brother’s birthday. I shoulda knowed to refuse lettin’ you go over there. What’s the use you gettin’ books anyhow, Franky?”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but George didn’t give me a chance.

  “And now you’re tyin’ up Mrs. Wortham out here when she needs to be in there with Thelma. They’s havin’ that baby, maybe tonight, and you ain’t been no help at all!”

  “Will you go gather up the kids,” I told George, trying to be calm. “Say a prayer and start them eating. I’ll be in in a minute.”

  George didn’t budge. “I’ll see to my son, if you please, Mrs. Wortham. You go on in and be with Thelma, ’fore she gets to frettin’ ’bout you not bein’ there for her.”

  I hated to go, I truly did. But as if on cue, Thelma gave another yell, and I scarcely had a choice. Franky was tough, after all. And he’d told me he was all right.

  Jesus, help us, I prayed on the way to the bedroom. What’s happening today? Thelma’s baby to deal with. Franky in a fight. Lizbeth and Ben and Rorey and little Emmie Grace. And even Robert. Seeming not so happy, nor so wise, as I thought we all were.

  Thelma was sitting up when I got there, looking pretty worn.

  When she scrunched up her face again, Sam about jumped out of his skin. “Ain’t there somethin’ we can do ’bout the pain?”

  “The doctor might know something,” I told him. “But there’s not much I can do right now but wait it out, the same as you. And pray. I can do that.”

  He nodded, but as soon as I was done with a prayer, he stood up and started pacing. I wondered if he might not be more comfortable outside like his father had said. But I didn’t say so. It wasn’t my place or George’s to decide something like that.

  “You need you a baby too,” Thelma told Lizbeth between puffs of breath, but Lizbeth just shook her head.

  In a little while, I was aware of the big boys eating in the next room, little Georgie fussing for his mother, and Sarah gradually settling him down. Thelma tried to drink a little tea but couldn’t manage much. She tossed about on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Then, strangely enough, the pains seemed to just stop. When we were expecting another contraction, it didn’t come.

  “I better rest while I ca
n,” she said.

  She curled up with her head on the pillow, and within a few minutes she was asleep.

  “Is that normal, Mrs. Wortham?” Lizbeth asked me.

  “I don’t know,” I had to say. “I hope so. We did pray for her to have less pain.”

  Sam got himself a plate but scarcely ate a bite. I couldn’t eat either and kept watching out the windows, thinking that Samuel and Ben ought to be coming before long. Surely they’d had plenty of time to get to Belle Rive and back.

  I started pacing worse than Sam and George put together. There wasn’t much talking going on in the house. Not even between Rorey and Sarah, who were sitting together but silent. George cut the birthday cake, and most of it disappeared without any comment. Hammonds were never ones to give birthday presents, but when I offered to start reading Franky’s book, George said it was Willy’s right to decide what he wanted to do. Willy chose a radio show, which pleased almost everybody. But Franky went and sat outside.

  “We’ll jus’ stay till Samuel gets back,” George assured me. “Be bad luck all a’ us in your hair any longer than that.”

  For a long time it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to have Hammonds in my living room and Hammonds such a big part of my life. But that night it suddenly felt strange again, like the first time, and I hardly knew what to do.

  2

  Sarah

  Mom had her hands full. And it worried me a little seeing her anxious, so I did what I could to keep Georgie quiet and Emma Grace occupied. I ended up on the floor with them, playing dolly in the corner while the radio show was going on. Rorey followed me over and sat down too, but she just pushed the dolly away when Georgie tried to hand it to her.

  “Franky’s such a sourpuss,” she whispered so quiet that not even Emma Grace heard, and she was on the other side of me.

  “He’s not so bad,” I defended. “Just a little different, that’s all.”

  “You just don’t know.” She scrunched up her face. “He’s not your brother.”

  “Same as. He’s over here all the time. Between school and work—”

  “School’s worth nothin’ with him, and you know it.” I was used to her saying whatever she felt, but I could easily take offense to that. It was my mother trying to teach him, after all. “He doesn’t see it as nothing. Mom says he tries real hard. And he’s sharp too, on most subjects.”

  “Yeah,” she scoffed. “Long as he doesn’t have to read it for himself.”

  “I don’t see why it matters to you.”

  “That part don’t. An’ he does make some nice wood things once in a while.”

  “So how does that make him a sourpuss?”

  Emma Grace looked at me. She was hearing us now.

  “Oh, Sarah.” Rorey rolled her eyes. “You’re so simple sometimes. It’s not his school or work. He’s just such a puritan! He got all riled up just ’cause me and Lester Turrey were talkin’ the other night.”

  I had to hear more, but I knew Emma Grace shouldn’t. “Emmie, run and get the dolly’s blanket, would you?” I said quickly. She looked at me funny, but she got up and obeyed.

  “When?” I prompted Rorey. “When were you talking to Lester Turrey?”

  Lester was an older boy. Almost eighteen. He’d quit school last year just when Mrs. Post was about to kick him out. He was an awful lot of trouble.

  Rorey leaned toward me and whispered even more quietly. “Last Saturday night. I snuck out to the bridge and met him. Didn’t know Franky’d see me and take it in his head to follow.”

  “Does your pa know?”

  “No. An’ I made Franky promise not to say nothin’. Lester’s my boyfriend. I’m meeting him tonight too. Don’t you tell.”

  For a minute my head felt like it was swimming. For the life of me I couldn’t see what Rorey would want with a big lug like Lester.

  “Promise me, Sarah,” she pushed. “You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

  “Where are you meeting him?”

  “In the barn. At midnight. Promise you won’t tell. You’d get me in an awful mess of trouble. I think it might’ve been Lester who busted up Franky today. He said he might, just to make sure he wouldn’t wanna follow me no more. Franky don’t know, though, that we’re meetin’ again.”

  I was suddenly uncomfortable. No wonder she didn’t want me to tell. We weren’t old enough for boyfriends yet. She wasn’t even fourteen till December, two whole months away. My mom and dad would be just as upset as her pa. “Rorey, are you sure about this? We’re not old enough to be seein’ boys.”

  Georgie was pulling on my sleeve, and Emma was on her way back to us. Katie was coming our way too, from across the room. “Mama was thirteen when she started seein’ Pa,” Rorey informed me importantly. “So it’s not so strange. Promise me you won’t tell, Sarah. Promise me. Hurry up.”

  I felt sort of squeamish inside, like my innards were arguing over having to hold this kind of information. But Rorey was Rorey. My friend even before first grade. She wouldn’t do anything too stupid, surely. “I won’t tell,” I whispered just as Katie and Emmie were sitting down.

  “Tell what?” Katie asked us.

  Rorey shook her head. “Nothing.” She’d no sooner tell Katie any secrets than she would one of the grown-ups. She’d never liked Katie as much as she liked me.

  Emmie spread the blanket out and tried to get Georgie to play along like we were all at a picnic. Rorey’s pa and all the bigger boys were so caught up in their radio show that they might not have even noticed if we’d been talking about Lester full out loud. Only Franky was outside someplace. And I felt bad about that. I felt bad that probably he’d followed Rorey innocent, just wondering what she was up to, like a brother would. And then to get beat up for it, if it truly was Lester who had done it. But whether he had or not, I didn’t like Lester, no matter what Rorey thought. He’d been a bully at school. He was still a bully. And I didn’t want anything to do with him.

  I wished Rorey hadn’t told me. I wished she wasn’t foolish enough to be sweet on somebody like Lester, who was four years older than her. Franky might be in for a lot of trouble if he was trying to protect his sister.

  I swallowed kind of hard, thinking about that. I kind of wished he’d tell. But I knew he wouldn’t, not if he’d promised. Not any more than I would. But there ought to be some way to let Rorey’s pa know. Or the rest of her brothers.

  “You be the mama, Sarah,” Emmie was telling me, putting baby Bessie into my hands. I looked down at the doll I used to drag around with me every place, and for the first time I wished I was Emmie’s age again. Being thirteen was getting kind of complicated.

  3

  Julia

  Thelma stirred before long, and the pains were back, but I was confident we had some time before the baby came. The big girls were playing dolls with Emmie and Georgie, and Lizbeth and Sam stayed with Thelma. So with everybody else sitting and listening to “Spiral Hayes and the Dew Drop Gang,” I stepped outside to check on Franky.

  At first I didn’t see him in the dark. He was clear over by the apple tree, sitting silent with his back to the house. He liked to be alone often enough, but this night I worried about him.

  “Franky? Are you feeling all right?”

  He turned his head just a little. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He didn’t volunteer another word. I stepped closer. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry you’re not getting much sympathy from your family.”

  “It’s not a night for that.”

  I had to marvel at him. No hard feelings toward them. He just accepted it all as a matter of course. Picked on, beat up, and ignored. All in a day’s work.

  “Franky, I could heat you some water if you want to soak. A chamomile bath would help the soreness—”

  He shook his head. “You have enough to do. I’m all right.”

  “Are you just going to let somebody hurt you and not
say anything at all? And let them get by with it?”

  Finally he faced me. “I guess you don’t understand. The way I see it, talkin’ about it wouldn’t do no good.”

  I was absolutely incensed. “But you’re no dummy, Franky! No matter what they say! You’re—”

  “It wasn’t about that.”

  His words stopped me cold. What else could it be? Mild-mannered Franky, always minding his own affairs. “Tell me, Franky. Please.”

  “I can’t. I swore I wouldn’t.”

  “Swore? To who? Franky, what’s going on?”

  “I wish you’d quit your worrying. It’s not no big deal.”

  “You came limping in all bruised up, and you tell me it’s no big deal? Why, Franky? Tell me—”

  Lizbeth opened the back door and hollered for me. My stomach squeezed tight as a knot.

  “You better hurry back in,” Franky said quietly.

  And I turned and left him, suddenly very angry at his father and his brothers. All of them, for just leaving Franky out here alone.

  The radio show was just ending and George was standing up as I came in. “Gettin’ later,” he said. “I know I tol’ you we’d wait till Samuel got back. But he’ll be along any minute, and it’s high time we got ourselves outta here.”

  I could hear Lizbeth back in the bedroom, urging Thelma to take a breath.

  “I wanna stay!” Emmie protested.

  “Ain’t no use none of us stayin’,” George maintained. “We been here too long a’ready. It’s jus’ with no radio over to home, it give William a little treat. But Lizbeth’s here, and they’re gonna have more help’n that ’fore long. We’d be complicatin’ things to linger. Time to be gettin’ out.”

  I went into the bedroom, glad they were going. I didn’t want all the kids hearing any more. Things were getting harder for Thelma, and we had a ways to go. “Take what’s left of the cake with you,” I called out to them.

  “Oh! Mrs. Wortham!” Thelma exclaimed as soon as she saw me. “I’m ready for this baby to be here.”

  “I know you are, honey.”

  “Can’t I stay?” Emmie’s voice was persisting out in the sitting room. “I wanna see the baby!”