Comfort

One morning toward the end of January, Junior drove us to the train station so I could leave for Warm Springs. The twins was irritable and getting on Daddy’s nerves. Momma was teary and Junior hardly said a word.

Daddy lifted me onto the train and Junior carried my suitcase and another box of my things to the porter. Every one of them came on the train to help me get settled and to give me hugs and kisses. Even Junior give me a quick hug. “Don’t forget,” he said. “Nothing could be finer than to be here in North Carolina.”

From the look he give me, you would think I had asked for Junior’s car. “I’d do just about anything for you, Ann Fay,” he said. “But writing letters is not one of them. If I wanna talk to you, I’ll get in my car and drive down there.” Then he winked and said, “Of course, I don’t mind if you write to me.”

The train whistled then and Junior and my family scrambled off. The five of them looked so lost there on the platform, shrinking away from me as the train headed out of Hickory. Was I making a big mistake to leave them?

Was this how my daddy felt the day he went off to war? I remembered how I couldn’t see him looking out the train window at us. Maybe he had the best way of coping. Not looking back was probably smart.

But I kept thinking about the girls getting dropped off at school on the way home from the train station. And Daddy and Junior going to work late, on my account. And Momma at the house the same as every other day. Only this day she’d have one less family member coming home for supper. One less helper to keep after the girls and do little jobs around the house.

“It mostly hurts at first,” I whispered. I took Daddy’s shoelace from around my neck, and the whole way to Georgia I held my wooden Comfort. I studied her little face with its tiny nose and eyes. And her mouth, which was too small for me to see if she was fixing to frown or smile. Mostly what I loved about her was her brace and her crutches. Funny how in real life I hated mine!

Still I rubbed my Comfort between my fingers until I figured she’d be smooth as one of Momma’s clothespins by the time I got to where I was going.

Somewhere along the way, the clacking of the train going over the rails picked up the tune of “Nothing Could Be Finer.” It played over in my head like a stuck record until it made me plumb ill. The closer we got to Warm Springs, the more I knew I was going in the wrong direction.

It was afternoon when the train pulled into Warm Springs. As the conductor lifted me down from the train, a tall fellow with broad shoulders stepped up. He glanced at the paper in his hand. “Ann Fay Honeycutt?”

“I’m Toby.” He stuck out his hand and I shook it the best I could while leaning on my crutches. “I’m a push boy at the Warm Springs Foundation. Have a seat.” He pointed to a wheelchair.

“Oh, but you’re at Warm Springs now. I’ve got to take good care of you, and that means you get pushed around until the doctors decide otherwise. There’s no point in getting injured before they even examine you.”

Even though I called myself a cripple, I hadn’t expected to be treated like one at Warm Springs. I reckon Toby saw the surprise on my face on account of he started singing:

“I’ve got those polio blues, those polio blues.

Wish I could lose those polio blues!

Sent me to Warm Springs to get treatment there,

Took away my crutches and put me in a chair.”

Well, that made me laugh. From the sound of that song it seemed like getting demoted to a wheelchair was a normal thing. There was even a song about it. So I sat, and Toby strapped my crutches onto the back of the wheelchair and pushed me to a black car by the railroad platform.

The porter was unloading bags. I pointed mine out, and Toby said he’d go back to get them. But first he helped me into the car.

It only took a few minutes to get to the fancy rock pillars at the entrance of the foundation. Toby drove me right up to the big building with the door that opened by itself. “This is Georgia Hall,” he said. “It’s where you’ll socialize. And meet boys.”

Then he winked and I thought, Is he flirting with me? But I decided probably not. For one thing, he was perfectly healthy, so why would he notice a cripple like me? And for another, he looked like he was about twenty years old. Or maybe a little younger. But at least as old as Junior Bledsoe.

“You need to see Mr. Fred Botts,” said Toby. “The registrar’s office is your first stop. So we won’t be getting out at the portico.” Hearing him use that rich-sounding word, portico, and seeing the beautiful white building with the tall glass windows—all of a sudden I thought about Cinderella arriving at the palace.

And I felt like her, too—but the way she was before the fairy godmother stepped in. Not that it would matter what I was wearing. Even in a ballgown I wouldn’t know how to act going through that fine entrance with perfect strangers staring at me. So I was relieved to go to Mr. Botts’s office at the end of the building.

“Welcome, Miss Honeycutt. I see you made it.” Mr. Botts reached across his desk to give me a handshake. “Did the railroad people treat you well?”

I was feeling shy, but I made myself look right at him. “Yes, sir. Everyone was good to me.”

“It looks as if your paperwork is in order. So now you can settle in and meet your roommate.” He chuckled. “At least, I hope so. Olivia flits from one thing to another, so I can’t be certain that she’s in your room at the moment.”

Mr. Botts asked Toby to deliver my suitcase and box to my dormitory. “And please ask the folks at Kress Hall to send an attendant for Ann Fay,” he said.

While we waited for the attendant, he asked how my family was doing. I thought about how miserable they looked on the railroad platform that morning. Were they at home right this minute regretting sending me here?

Mr. Botts must’ve seen how I was struggling to come up with an answer. “It takes awhile for soldiers to adjust to life at home,” he said. “We have some Navy men staying here, and I can see that, besides them having polio, war has left its mark.”

That really surprised me. “What did my daddy tell you?” I asked. I knew Daddy had talked to Mr. Botts on the phone to make plans for me coming here. But surely they hadn’t discussed his problems. As far as I could tell, Daddy wouldn’t even tell my momma what was weighing him down.

The only other person I could think of who might’ve talked to Mr. Botts was my doctor. But how would he know about Daddy changing after the war?

I guess Mr. Botts saw in my face how confused I was because he went on to explain. “I spoke with your benefactor, the gentleman who is sponsoring your stay at Warm Springs. He says your father is reporting to work and the two of them have an agreement.”

An agreement? My benefactor? It must be Peggy Sue’s daddy he was talking about. I knew that people had donated money through Mrs. Whitener’s collection jar. But Mr. Botts made it sound like Mr. Rhinehart was helping to pay my way. Daddy hadn’t told me about that.

That explained why he was sticking with his job even when he couldn’t lift a finger at home unless Momma kept after him. He was doing it so I could walk again!

Suddenly lots of thoughts was spinning around in my head. Thoughts about Mr. Rhinehart talking about my daddy’s problems. How much did he know? And was Daddy acting strange at work?

“Have I let the cat out of the bag?” asked Mr. Botts. “Mr. Rhinehart didn’t mention that his involvement was confidential.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay,” I said. “But I didn’t know he told you about my daddy’s problems.”

Just then someone tapped on the door, and a woman in a white uniform dress stepped inside. “Good afternoon, Mr. Botts,” she said.

While the two of them swapped greetings I noticed every little thing about her. She was slender and had pretty auburn hair and green eyes. Something about her voice and her smile put me in mind of my momma. Mr. Botts introduced us.

“Mrs. Trotter, this is Ann Fay Honeycutt from North Carolina. She’ll be staying with you in Kress Hall.”

“I’m so glad to meet you, Ann Fay.” Mrs. Trotter offered me her hand. Soon I was saying goodbye to Mr. Botts and she was pushing the wheelchair out the door.

“Ed Frogge, I’d like you to meet Ann Fay Honeycutt,” Mrs. Trotter said. She looked at me and added, “Ed is the manager of the front desk. He handles the mail, and as you’ll see, he’s generally in charge of gossip and rumors around here. But don’t you believe a word he tells you!” Mrs. Trotter laughed. It was easy to see that she and Ed enjoyed teasing each other.

Mr. Frogge just shook his head and gave me a big grin. “It’s nice – to meet you.” He spoke in a breathless way and took short gulps of air between his words. When I heard that, I was pretty sure he’d had polio too—maybe even the same kind my brother had. At the Hickory polio hospital I’d met other patients who’d been in iron lungs. Some of them sounded like Mr. Frogge.

“Young lady,” he said. “Don’t you – believe that nonsense – about gossip. I just report – the facts.” He winked at me then and said, “But if you see a young – man of interest here – just let me know. Maybe I can help.”

Mrs. Trotter waved him off. “You watch out, Ann Fay,” she said. “Ed will be telling every eligible boy on campus that a pretty young girl has arrived.”

We turned to go then, but Mr. Frogge wanted to chat. So while he and Mrs. Trotter talked, I practiced turning myself around in that wheelchair.

There was Georgia Hall stretching way down to the dining room. It was a grand hallway with black and white diamond shapes in the tile floor—just as beautiful as I remembered. Along the walls were wicker couches and chairs with flowered cushions. And there were lots of lamps and potted plants all around.

Just looking at all that beauty made me feel downright shabby—even with my Peggy Sue hairdo and the new dress Momma had made me. I was pretty sure this place had never seen a girl in overalls.

There were people scattered about, reading on the couches or chatting and laughing with each other. Three girls sitting near a fireplace saw me watching and lowered their voices. I turned away.

Mrs. Trotter was finishing her conversation with Mr. Frogge. “We shall see what we shall see,” she said, wagging her finger at him. Then she turned to me. “Ready, Ann Fay?” She pushed me out a nearby door, and we followed a red brick walkway under a covered roof.

I couldn’t help noticing the big white columns holding up that roof. It seemed like everywhere I looked there were more of them. “This is the colonnade,” said Mrs. Trotter. “And the grassy area ahead is called the quad. I’m sure you’ll spend lots of time out here during warm weather.”

The quad was like a park, with lots of trees and grass. There were fancy white iron benches here and there. And black lampposts with four white globes hanging so pretty on each one. The weather was warmer than back in North Carolina. So even in January there were people sitting outside and laughing and talking

There were buildings all around the quad—like a frame around a landscape picture. “See Kress Hall?” Mrs. Trotter pointed to a white brick building on the left side of the quad. “That’s where you’ll be staying.”

There were two men in wheelchairs on the porch of Kress Hall. One of them called out to us. “I have something to show you,” he said.

So Mrs. Trotter took me to meet them. “This is Ann Fay. Meet Lou.” She gestured toward one man and then the other. “And Hubert. These men served our country during the war.”

Hubert and Lou were both covered over in smiles. And for some reason, that seemed odd to me, like they were up to something. But of course I didn’t know them. So who was I to be suspicious?

“Good to meet you,” said Hubert. He wheeled his chair a little closer and reached out his hand. I thought he wanted to shake, so I reached too. But his hand was closed. Just before our hands touched, he opened his, and right there, smack-dab in his palm, was the biggest, ugliest brown bug you ever did see! It was at least two inches long. All of a sudden it lifted its wings and flew right past me.

“Aaaah!” I pulled back fast. It’s a good thing I wasn’t on crutches or I would probably have lost my balance.

I heard Mrs. Trotter gasp. “Oh, Hubert, you rascal! Is that any way to welcome our new friend?”

She wagged her finger at the two men. They were both laughing like naughty boys. She patted my arm.

“Ann Fay,” she said. “It’s just a palmetto bug. They thrive in this warm climate. But they’re harmless. Really, they are.”

Hubert winked at me. He was still laughing. “Welcome to Warm Springs,” he said. “And don’t worry, I wouldn’t have put it in your hand.”

I didn’t know what to say. He seemed like a nice enough fellow. But my heart was thumping extra beats on account of him.

“Consider yourself initiated into the Warm Springs family,” said Lou. “Practical jokes are what makes this place tick.”

Mrs. Trotter just shook her head and took my chair again. She pushed me around the building and to a lower door at the back. “Hubert was right,” she said. “Someone is always playing tricks on someone else around here. You had better keep on your toes, Ann Fay.”

She went on to explain that Hubert and Lou were two Navy men who had polio and had come there for treatment. “The sailors are staying on the main floor of Kress Hall,” she said. “So the girls have been moved to the lower level. For now, you have to use this back entrance.”

I think she was trying to get my mind off that horrible bug because just as we were getting to the back door Mrs. Trotter told me to snap my fingers. So I did, and just like that, the door opened. We laughed, because of course it would have opened without me doing that.

But I decided I was going to have a good time snapping my fingers at all the doors around that place.

We went into a hallway with shiny tile floors and pale green walls. “Welcome to your new home,” Mrs. Trotter said. Then, before she could say another word, a tall girl come out of a nearby room and headed toward us.

“Ann Fay Honeycutt, you’re here!” she squealed. “I’m Olivia.” She ran straight to us, stopped me in my tracks, and gave me a clumsy hug. Olivia had that kind of upturned mouth that looked like she was always smiling. I noticed right off that her arms was real skinny, so I knew they were the part of her that was affected by polio.

There were two beds in the room and one of them had a large piece of paper on it that said:

Ann Fay, Welcome to Warm Springs

“I know it’s sloppy,” said Olivia. “I tell my hands to color in the lines, but they don’t listen. Mother says they get tired of hearing me talk, so they just ignore me.” She laughed. “Sometimes I think she wishes polio affected my tongue instead of my hands.”

I wasn’t paying much attention to Olivia either, because, just then, I realized there was a bathroom off our room. “Is that just for the two of us?” I asked.

“Sure,” said Olivia. She shrugged like she was used to such things. “Do you need to go?”

Thank goodness Mrs. Trotter let me use my crutches and go to the bathroom by myself. At first I just stared at the shiny white commode and sink. And the shower stall that was covered with gray tiles. I couldn’t get over this bathroom being just steps away from my bed. And me sharing it with only one other person.

I wished my momma could see me right that second. I thought about Daddy promising to make her a bathroom. For some reason, seeing this room made it seem more hopeless than ever. We could dream about being high society but I had a feeling that staying at Warm Springs was as close as I would ever get.

When I finally came back out, Mrs. Trotter picked up my suitcase and laid it on the bed. “Shall we put your things in the bureau?” she asked. And the next thing I knew we had an assembly line going—with me pulling clothes out of my suitcase and handing them to Olivia, who gave them to Mrs. Trotter, who put them in the drawer.

A couple of times Olivia dropped things. “I’m so sorry! Oh, I wish my hands would behave themselves.”

The closet was nearly full already with all the clothes that Olivia had in there. I didn’t think even Peggy Sue had that many dresses.

I decided to leave the everyday dresses in my suitcase. I knew already I wouldn’t be wearing them around this place.

Mrs. Trotter told me that her son was in the medical building at the other end of the quad. “That’s why I work here,” she said. “We live in Alabama, but dear Leon has had so many surgeries that Warm Springs has become another home to us.”

There was a table beside my bed, so I told Olivia to put my diary and my blue Bromo-Seltzer bottle there. She shook her head. “What if I drop the bottle?” she asked. From the way she stared at it, I could see that saving an empty medicine bottle seemed strange to her.

“It reminds me of something Imogene told me,” I explained. “She was my friend at the Hickory polio hospital. According to her, God keeps a separate bottle for each one of us—just for storing our tears inside.”

“There’s not much to cry about at Warm Springs,” said Olivia. “This is a place for laughing. Right, Mrs. Trotter?”

I had a feeling they were right. They had both been so kind to me already. So I didn’t mention the tears I cried on the train for leaving my family the way I did. As long as the two of them were talking, I could forget about the song Junior put in my head.

“If we hurry we can still make it to the picture show,” said Olivia. She was already moving to the door.

“Well,” I said, “I only have a little spending money. I should probably save it to buy keepsakes for my family.”

“Oh, pooh! It doesn’t cost us a thing. The movie company donates the films to Warm Springs.”