CHAPTER 18

On New Year’s Eve, Daddy went to the hospital and finally got to see Charlotte—really see her and touch her and hear her.

That filled me with hope—it had to mean she was getting better, but I needed to hear Daddy say it.

“What was the visit like? What was her room like? What was my sissy like? Did she talk a lot? When can I see her too? Why aren’t you answering me?”

Daddy laughed. “Take a breath, Pru. Everything’s fine. I wasn’t saying anything ’cause you didn’t give me a chance to jump in anywhere. It was great to see her—even if she’s weak, she’s still Charlotte.” His voice cracked a bit. “So good to see her.”

“Does she sound the same?”

Daddy knew I’d been asking about this for a while.

Our neighbors the Browns have a telephone at their house. On Christmas Day, I begged Daddy to let me try to call Charlotte, so we walked over there to borrow their phone. But between it being long-distance and us not even knowing how to reach Charlotte once we did get the call to go through to the hospital, it didn’t amount to a hill of beans.

I just wanted the sound of my sissy to fill my head—her voice, her laugh, even her scolding me.

Daddy laughed at my question, messing up my hair all playful-like as he answered, “Her voice sounds exactly like it used to. That hasn’t changed.”

’Course that wasn’t what I was getting at. I didn’t want to admit that every day it was getting harder and harder to remember Mama’s voice. I couldn’t bear to forget Charlotte’s too.

Fortunately, he brought me a special delivery from Charlotte, which was the next-best way to start the New Year. When I took the letter from Daddy—who might’ve been smiling as much as me at my excitement—I ran straight to my room.

Dear Pixie,

Can you believe Christmas is over? I clung to all our Christmas memories this year—hanging the tinsel on the tree on Christmas Eve, waking up on Christmas morning, finding apples and some candies in our stockings. It’s funny how those memories helped me get through the days, but also felt so far away, like they were just a dream.

Promise me we’ll make new memories when I get out of here.

Holidays in the hospital are pretty much like regular days. The food is still bland and mushy. I mean, I don’t want to complain, but Grandma’s cooking is a whole lot better, that’s for sure.

They put up a Christmas tree in the lobby, and I took little Nancy to see it. She was confused and wondered why a tree was inside. She makes me laugh, which is nice, as not a lot makes me laugh anymore.

The other day, Nurse Margie had to come and get me when Nancy was about to get her therapy. Nancy wouldn’t stop asking for me because she was scared. But when I held her, she was so brave. I try hard, but I don’t feel so brave some days.

I finished Little Women. It was good, but I didn’t like what happened to the sister named Beth at all. Maybe you could read it sometime and we can talk about it.

Grandma crocheted me an afghan. It’s pretty and soft and blue. In one of her letters, she said you’re learning to crochet. Really? You? I’ll believe that when I see it.

Thanks for the updates on school. I always told you Miss Beany was nice. Tell Ricky I said hi.

And, Pixie, stop saying you’re sorry. The doctors say there’s no way to know where I got polio. It’s not your fault. It just happened—just like Mama getting sick and not getting better. It just happened, and none of it is your fault.

Wish I was home to talk to you about everything. But you know what Grandma says: “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

Well, I have to go now.

See you in the New Year, the good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.

Love,

Charlotte

I shook my head. Here I’d been worried about forgetting the sound of Charlotte’s voice and the way she laughs. But now, even worse, I was learning she was having trouble finding reasons to laugh at all.