THREE
Meanwhile, Back on the Farm

When we finally got home from visiting Isabel in the hospital, I shucked off my school clothes and put on jeans and my favorite green T-shirt and sneakers. Then I headed down the slope behind the house to the barn. The sun made the western sky all golden and orange as it edged down toward the horizon.

Before you get to the milk barn, you pass the original barn that my great-grandfather built about a million years ago. The wood is all gray and weather-beaten, and you don’t see many like it these days. Up in that barn is the loft where Daddy stores the hay for winter, and down below is where he keeps the tractor and the baler and other equipment. I like to hang out in there sometimes, but that day I needed to see my father.

The dairy barn is large, built of concrete blocks, and painted a pure white. The corrugated metal roof is gray, and whirling air ventilators on top keep dampness from building up inside. Plus there are plenty of windows on the south side to let in the sunlight and air.

As I approached the barn, I could hear the whoosh-whoosh of the automatic milkers and the sound of my daddy talking with our hired man, Mr. Brett. The men spoke softly because loud noises bother the cows. If I were to yell a “howdy” to the men, one of them dumb cows would like as not kick or jump or make a poopy mess right there on the barn floor, and that would agitate the others, and they’d all do the same, and guess who’d get to help clean it up? Yours Very Truly, that’s who.

I went through the washroom and entered the milking parlor, warm from the cows’ body heat. Big black-and-white Holstein cows stood with their necks locked loosely in stanchions and happily munched the feed Daddy had put in the trough in front of them. Daddy and Mr. Brett stood well away from the backsides of the cows. Nobody wants to get kicked, you know.

Mr. Brett—who is very nice-looking with dark eyes, black hair, and a short black beard—saw me immediately. He gave me a grin and held up one hand in greeting. Daddy turned and saw me.

My daddy is Mike Reilly. He is the handsomest man in all of Zachary County. He has dark brown hair and blue, blue eyes. I know nothing bad will ever get me when my daddy is around.

“Hey, punkin,” he said as I approached him. “You just get home?”

“Yep. Hi, Daddy. Hiya, Mr. Brett.”

“How’s Miss Isabel?” Daddy asked.

“She’s got a broke leg. I mean, she has a broken leg, and she’s all black and blue and purple, and she purely looks like a mess. I bet she hurts pretty good, too.”

“I’m sure she does,” Daddy agreed.

“Ian said she drove right off the road there at the culvert on Howard’s Hill,” Mr. Brett said. “Worst place on this entire road.”

Daddy and I agreed with him, then I said, “Daddy, I need to talk to you.”

He turned to Mr. Brett and said, “Would you check Flossie? She’s more restless than usual. Maybe give her a little more grain; that’ll calm her a bit.” He looked at me. “What is it, honey? We’re a little busy here.”

“I know, but it’s important.”

“Well then, you better tell me.”

“Daddy, remember when I told you a few weeks ago that something was wrong with ole Myra Sue?”

He nodded. “Sure. And there was something wrong. Thanks to you we got her some help, and now she’s eating like a normal girl again.”

My sister had decided she wanted to be super skinny like Isabel, so she stopped eating for a little while. Thank goodness that’s all over with.

“I’m glad you remember that because, Daddy, now I’m worried about Mama.”

“You are?”

“She’s all pale. I can practically count her freckles.”

“Oh?”

I nodded. “And she looks tired. And her hands are puffy.”

He just looked at me for a minute.

“Okay, April. Thanks for telling me. I’ll check on her when I get finished here.”

This puzzled me. I would have thought he’d forget about those dumb cows and run up to the house right then.

“But, Daddy . . .”

He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sure she’s okay, April Grace. I know she’s not been feeling too good, but I can pretty much promise you she’s all right.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Daddy.”

He put his hand on my head and smiled into my eyes. “I promise. Okay?”

I knew he loved Mama as much as I did and that he would not let anything bad happen to her, either. I trusted him.

“Okay then,” I said. “But you won’t forget to check on her as soon as you get to the house, will you?”

“I’ll check on her. I promise.”

And he did. In fact, he talked to her for a long time in the upstairs bedroom they had been sharing ever since the St. Jameses had been living with us. It was Myra Sue’s bedroom, and she was staying in my room with me. I hung around outside the closed bedroom door, hoping to find out what was what, and I was still hanging around there when Daddy opened the door unexpectedly.

“So!” he said, frowning. “Eavesdropping?”

I tried to smile. Then I shrugged. “Well, Daddy.”

“Well, what? You know you’re not supposed to snoop.”

“I wasn’t snooping. Not exactly. I just wanted to know if Mama is all right.”

Mama called out to me, and Daddy stepped aside. Mama was sitting on the edge of the bed, but she stood up the minute I walked in. She gave me a big smile.

“Honey, I don’t want you to worry. I’m fine. Just feeling a little under the weather lately.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure?”

She kept smiling, but I saw her tiredness anyway. “I’m sure.”

“Well, okay,” I told her after a little pause. But I was not convinced.

That night, Ian stayed at Blue Reed General with his little woman. At home we had hot dogs and potato chips and store-bought cookies for supper.

As soon as Mama finished eating, she looked at us girls.

“I apologize for this meal.”

“That’s okay, Mama,” I said. “Hot dogs are fun, and we hardly ever have them.”

She smiled at me, all tired in her eyes.

“Thanks, honey.” She pushed back her chair and got up. Then she added, “I’m going to bed now.”

“Mama?” I said in considerable alarm.

She stroked my head, smiling. “I’m tired, honey, but I’m fine.”

No matter how many times she said it, I still found it hard to believe. She gave us each a little kiss on our foreheads and went off to bed.

“Daddy?” I said, looking at him and feeling scared.

“Punkin, she’s okay.”

“But—”

“It would be a big help if you’ll just be a good girl, you and your sister both. Now, go do your homework, and I’ll clean the kitchen.”

“But, Daddy—”

“Trust me on this, April Grace,” he said gently. “I will take care of your mama. I promise.”

The night was quiet and spooky without Mama, and I crept around the house like it was haunted. Seeing Daddy do kitchen duty instead of Mama, which is something she always does, gave me a fluttery feeling, too. But I finished my homework at the kitchen table, and at bedtime I went up to my bedroom, wishing Grandma was well enough that I could go see her and talk about all this. Myra Sue sat dejectedly in her pink pajamas on the edge of the bed, kinda slumped, staring down intently at her hands.

Sharing my room has not been a joy, let me tell you. And there are a lot of reasons for that. Number one: My sister is not the neatest person in our family. Well, neither am I, but I like to have my things where I can see them or get to them easily. Myra Sue would rather spend her time staring at her silly self in the mirror. Number two: She’s so bossy you’d think it was her room. Number three: She never turns off that stupid radio she got for her birthday last year and sometimes sings along with it. And number four: She hogs the bed. You cannot imagine how awful it is to have her in my room, but it is just a burden I have to bear until Ian and Isabel move into their own place.

“What are you doing?” I asked her.

“I need a manicure. I have a hangnail.”

Oh brother.

She sighed deeply. “Poor Isabel.”

“Isabel will be just fine,” I said. “Good grief. Just because she’s in the hospital, the world is not coming to an end.”

She looked up. Her bright blue eyes swam with tears. Her lips started to pooch out in a pout, and the blush on her cheeks got deeper. She ran the fingers of one hand through her blond curls.

“Instead of worrying about ole Isabel,” I told her, “why don’t you worry about Mama?”

“Daddy said she’s okay.”

I shrugged. “That’s what he said, but she looks funny to me.”

“Funny ha-ha or funny weird?”

“Not like Mama.”

“Oh,” she said, like she understood. But I doubt she did, especially as her mind seemed brimming over with Isabel.

A few days later, on Friday afternoon, Myra Sue and I hadn’t been home from school very long when Ian brought Isabel home from the hospital. Let me tell you, that man carried her and her crutches every step of the way from the car to the bed. Myra Sue and I followed them into the bedroom. Mama had the bedcovers pulled back, and he laid her down in it like she was a helpless little baby. He fluffed her pillow. Then he adjusted the top sheet a little. Then he patted her on the head until she snapped at him in the most unrefined way you can imagine. In fact, I thought she was gonna bite his hand.

Ole Ian took a few steps back, sat down in the little wicker chair, and closed his eyes. As Grandma would say, that poor man looked like he’d been sent for and couldn’t go—meaning he was plumb wore out. He let out a long, long breath. Poor ole Ian.

Isabel looked at Mama and said, “You will not believe what happened. That wretched school board president called me at the hospital this morning and told me that due to my injuries, they were going to postpone my classes until next semester.”

“Oh, Isabel, I’m so sorry,” Mama said. “I know how you were looking forward to that.”

Isabel sighed. “Yes. Oh yes. And now what will I do? You know I love to stay busy.”

Oh brother. Isabel’s busyness usually involved exercising on the front porch, and it hardly ever involved any actual work.

“Maybe you could learn to knit,” I volunteered, and received a dirty look for my suggestion.

“I just don’t know what I’ll do with myself, lying here a complete invalid.”

“Don’t worry, Isabel dearest,” my goofy sister said. “I’ll keep you company.”

Isabel smiled at her. “Thank you, darling. You’re a treasure.”

Oh, gag me.