Katie's Dream (31 page)

“It's okay to say you hurt, isn't it, Pastor?” Lizbeth questioned.
“Isn't it okay for him to cry if he feels like it? I been cryin', an' I'd cry even more if it was my leg broke.”

“Of course it's okay,” Pastor assured them both. “Franky, it's all right to complain about what's troubling you. You're not expected to keep it to yourself.”

“Ain't it a sin to complain?”

“There's a difference between stating the problem and getting swept up in a spiteful attitude about it.”

“I ain't never hurt so bad,” Franky said quickly. “An' I'm scared it won't quit.” There were tears traveling his cheeks now, and Juli moved to hug him.

“Oh, Franky,” she cried. “Who told you you had to be so brave?”

“Pa said big boys don't cry.”

“Even Jesus wept,” the pastor said solemnly.

Once he was given the permission, Franky wept most of the rest of the time we were there. Twice the nurse came in, just checking on him. She told us there was very little more they could do. Even for the pain. He'd just have to keep still, that was all. And it would eventually feel better.

We hated to leave. Especially with George so unsympathetic. But we had to see to the rest of the children and take care of things at home.

George insisted we take Lizbeth with us. “Emmie an' Bert's gonna be needin' her by now,” he said. “No use both a' us sittin' here. The nurses takes care a' most things.”

Lizbeth wasn't happy to be sent away, but she didn't argue. I'd often wished that George would spend more time with Franky, try to understand him, try to appreciate him a little better. But I had my doubts that this was the time and place. Franky needed more than his father was willing to give at the moment. Pastor must have thought so too.

“Why don't I stay?” he suggested. “Your oldest boy's
coming with the wagon in the morning. I could ride home with him. I'd like to be here with you.”

Franky looked relieved, and I wondered what kind of a night it had been for them last night.

Pastor stayed. Lizbeth hugged her father and brother both, planting a kiss on Franky's cheek. “Don't you worry about nothin',” she said. “You just rest and get better and don't worry so much about temptations an' stuff. You're just a little boy.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She thanked the pastor, and then we all said good-bye. And Barrett took us back to the pastor's house for the kids. I was glad he'd stayed with George. I just couldn't fathom why George had taken it into his head to blame Franky when he ought to be mad at Edward or me.

Sarah was so excited to see us that she came running out of the pastor's house and climbed right up in the truck to jump on Julia before we had a chance to get out.

“Goodness!” Juli exclaimed. “What's got you all bouncy like this?”

“Pastor's wife, she taught us how to make a funny baby cradle with a bunch a' string, an' she's got the neatest dolls, Mommy! They's paper but not cut outta magazines like Katie's! They's real dolls outta paper like Helen Jorgenson used to have back in Pennsavaney! Can we get some? Please? Are we gonna stay at their house a while longer? I'd like to really sleep over!”

“Slow down, Sarah. One thing at a time. I'm glad you had fun.”

Rorey came out of the house, followed slowly by Katie. I could see the tears in Katie's eyes. Harry and Bert rushed past her to greet Lizbeth, but Katie stood and stared at us timidly.

“Katie was the only one scared,” Sarah whispered. “She thought you might not come back. Least not for her.”

I hadn't even thought how she would feel with Juli and me both gone. I got out of the truck, intending to talk to her a minute, to put her at ease. But to my surprise she turned and ran the other way, straight out to the pastor's backyard, just as far as she could go without crossing the neighbor's fence. She started up a gnarled old tree with low side limbs and kept climbing till she was hidden in all the green leaves.

For a minute I just stood there. What had come over her to make her run? Maybe I hadn't ought to follow her. Who knew how she'd react?

But Juanita Jones came out of the house, holding Emma Grace and looking back at that tree with concern. “You ought to talk to her, Samuel,” she said gently. “Something's been troubling her the last hour or so and she sure won't tell me.”

I took a deep breath.
How had this responsibility come to me? Why, Lord? Won't you please show us who this child is?

Reluctantly I went to the backyard. I knew Barrett was waiting. He'd wanted to pick up the kids and hurry home. He had things to do. But he'd have to wait.

“Katie, how about coming down from the tree and telling me how your afternoon's been? Did you like visiting?”

No answer. I got to the base of the tree and looked up. She was staring down at me, the tears still filling her dark eyes. But she didn't let them overflow, kind of like Julia sometimes, trying to choke down the sad stuff.

“What's the matter?”

She still didn't answer. Just looked out over the yard toward the rest of our bunch gathering at Barrett and Louise's truck.

“Will you come down? Please? If something's upset you, we can talk about it.”

She shook her head.

“We need to get going.”

She didn't move, didn't speak. In the shadow of the tree, she looked like she did the first night I found her in Edward's car. So small and alone. With a sigh, I stepped on to a tree limb and started climbing, half expecting her to panic or go higher. She didn't. She just watched me, looking worried and confused by something.

“If you won't come down, I'll come to you,” I said. “At least for a minute. It's been a while since I climbed a tree, though. If I need help, will you help me?”

She shook her head. “I couldn't help somebody as big as you. If you get stuck, we'll have to call the policeman.”

I smiled. “I'll try not to get stuck.” I managed to get myself to a sturdy branch not far from her perch, where I could sit and see her face-to-face. “Katie, I'm sorry things have been tough. But I don't know what to do to make it easier.”

Her eyes filled up with tears again, and I was almost sorry I'd spoken. But there was no backing down now. Might as well talk straight, even if she didn't want to talk to me. “You know, I wish I could tell you all that's going to happen from here on. But Sheriff Law's not brought one word, and I just don't know what to expect. I'd keep you, you know I would. But there still might be somebody else, and I just don't know what would be best for you. Don't know if you've noticed or not, but we don't have much of anything right now, except people to play with.”

“But they all belong here,” she said, looking toward the truck again with a deep and solemn expression.

“Well, yes.”

“Do I?”

I had to sigh. “I wish I knew. But right now I can't even tell if you want to.”

She looked at me for a moment with something different in her eyes. “Do you ever get mad? Real mad?”

I thought of Edward's taunting words, Julia's encounter with him at the well, and my aching bruises. “I guess everybody gets mad. One time or another. But I try not to.”

“Was you ever mad at my mama?”

We'd been through this before. “No, honey. How could I when I never met her?”

“But you did!” She shook, some of the tears escaping. “I didn't remember before, but you did! You was there one time when I was little! I dreamed about it! You was there, but I didn't even remember until today, because Mrs. Pastor has a kewpie doll just like the one you broke—”

I reached my hand to her. “Katie, you said you dreamed it. If it even happened, it wasn't really me—”

She scooted back. “Yes, it was! Yes, it was! It was really dark, and you was looking all tired and mean, and Mama kept saying, ‘Samuel, don't! Samuel, don't!' Over and over!”

I just stared, thinking of my mother crying those same words. “No,” I said, afraid of what I was seeing in this girl's eyes.

“I was hiding in the dream,” she said. “I think I was really, really little, because I forgot all about it. Till I saw that dolly and I knew I used to have one like it.” She stopped, looking at me with a sharp uncertainty. “You . . . you threw it,” she said and started shaking so much that I was afraid she was going to fall out of the tree. Just to be sure she wouldn't, I reached for her again and pulled her into my arms. She didn't resist. She only cried. A long time.

I felt like crying too. She didn't know my father, but maybe she thought I was like him. Edward thought I was like him. And somewhere, somebody really was—some cruel bum who had my name.

Finally, she started to settle down a little, and I felt like I could breathe again. “Why did you grab me?” she asked between sniffs.

“I was afraid you were going to fall.”

“Don't you . . . don't you remember being there one time? When I was little?”

“No. If it happened, it was somebody else, honey.”

“That was a long time ago. I was really little. But I wasn't as little when the picture got stolen, so I remember it better. Then you were wearing a vest and leaning on a tree. Only I guess you washed off the birdie.”

“The birdie?” My stomach dropped like a stone, and I felt suddenly cold. “What birdie?” I could only think of my father with his hand upraised, that dreaded, ugly eagle tattoo staring down at me from his threatening arm.

“There used to be a birdie. In the picture. On your arm.”

I felt like I could heave, right there. It couldn't be possible. “Let's climb down,” I said, suddenly not sure I could stay upright. The leaves and branches seemed to be weaving.

“You look kind of sick,” she said. “Are you mad I remember that stuff? I won't tell anybody if you don't want me to.”

“It's not that,” I told her, having trouble even getting the words out.

“I guess I was supposed to be a secret,” she said in a rush. “But I didn't know that when I came here, and that's why I said stuff before. But if you only want me to be a secret, I won't say nothing else, I promise. Can I be your girl if I be secret?”

Tears fell to her cheeks again, and I could barely stand looking into her face. She looked like me. I looked like my father, Samuel Edward Wortham. Married too young. Too cruel. Too reckless for anybody's good.

According to my mother, he was long dead. But was he?

TWENTY - ONE

Julia

I didn't know what had taken place between Samuel and Katie in that tree, but when they climbed in the truck, they were both still drying their eyes. Samuel looked like he'd been run over by a truck. I guessed he was still awful sore from the bruises, and having a lot on his heart to deal with, what with Franky in the hospital and Katie still here needing us.

He sat beside me, not looking at me very much. Something was different, I knew. He looked lost somehow, utterly confused, and I couldn't picture how that could be possible from just talking a child down out of a tree.

“Are you all right?” I asked him, but he didn't get a chance to say anything before Harry climbed on top of him, whooping about catching a bear.

“Be careful,” I told Harry. “He's still sore. Don't be jumping now.”

Samuel didn't say a word. Katie sat still as a little stone, just looking over at the paper dolls Juanita had sent along for the girls to play with. When Sarah tried to hand her one, she only looked at it.

Barrett had the truck moving in no time. He and Louise were up front, with all the rest of us piled in the back. Sam Hammond had gone home already, taking Joe and our Robert with him, but they'd left the little girls and Harry and Bert. Just like George had predicted, Emma Grace and Berty were both snuggled up to Lizbeth like they hadn't seen her in months. She started singing to them. The song was nice, but my own heart was feeling a little too heavy for singing. I reached for Samuel's hand, and he took mine in his and held it tight, but he didn't look at me. He was looking off in the distance, somewhere far away. Miles away. Years away. Katie looked up at him a time or two and then finally turned her attention to the dolls.

“Is there a daddy one?” she said. “There ought to be a whole, real family.”

Poor child with her unending dream. A real family. Father, mother, and all. It couldn't happen. Not with her actual father. Maybe not even with her mother, not anymore. But maybe it would, somehow. Lord willing.