It would have been real nice to find out Imelda Jane wanted Buck even with the misfortune that had befallen him. That wasn’t the case, but I could hardly blame her for deciding she wasn’t near as much in love with him as she’d reckoned. She went off to Atlanta to a finishing school and then on to a junior college just for girls, and the baby was put up for adoption, poor little tyke. So now Buck had a baby son he’d never see.
While I waited for him to come home, I worked hard to stay plenty busy, hoping I wouldn’t have any time left to think about the condition he was coming home in. I helped Willa Mae make muffins with all the strawberries she gathered. They were too good. I ate most of them as fast as they cooled from the oven.
The folks at Walter Reed hospital said Buck was doing as well as could be expected and they’d keep me informed of his progress. They gave him an honorable discharge and full disability, which came to three hundred and seventy-four dollars a month—hardly enough for a family of soon to be four. Thankfully, the chicken business was a good supplement to it. From Buck’s letters I could tell he was having a hard time of it. In addition to experiencing a great deal of depression, he was experiencing all sorts of infections in his intestinal tract, and the doctors couldn’t seem to get it under control. He had raging fevers, and one day the hospital notified me that I should be prepared to come up there at a moment’s notice, that it was real serious. Some sort of a staph infection they thought he might have picked up during the surgery had got in his bloodstream. But there was no way I could travel no matter how bad it got. Willa Mae was baking her special strawberry muffins that I loved. Sam and Grace Annie were playing nearby with some blocks laid out on the floor. And Murphy, determined not to give up his plans for us marrying, came by every day and mooned around before taking Sam home for the night.
I remembered what he’d said about taking care of us, including Buck.
“It doesn’t look good,” I said. “He’s real serious sick. They want me to go up there if it gets any worse—”
“The only place you’re going is the hospital.”
“I know—” I rubbed my stomach. I was probably already in labor. My back had started paining me that morning.
“If need be, I’ll go,” Murphy said.
I nodded.
“What if he don’t recover, Adie?”
“Oh, Murphy, don’t say that. That could bring Buck bad luck. Don’t even think on it, okay?” I said. “That’d be the worst thing that could happen.” Then I remembered what Mama always said: Sometimes the worst thing turns out to be the best thing. I didn’t want to think about that. Poor Buck. The pain in my back was getting stronger and moving around to the front. Now I knew it was time. That’s exactly how it started with Grace.
I went inside and packed a little suitcase and phoned the doctor. He said to come to the hospital when the pains were five minutes apart. I asked Willa Mae to look after Sam and Grace Annie and the chickens. I lay down on the bed and pored over Tempe’s journal while I waited. It could be a while.
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