The Waltons 3 - The Easter Story (12 page)

John-Boy guessed the same thoughts were on everybody’s mind as they waited. They all gazed silently at the table until Grandma finally got up.

“Well, I reckon I’d better fix us all some lunch.”

Mary Ellen rose. “I’ll help, Grandma.”

After twenty minutes the doctor and John came down. But they went out the front door, and another five minutes passed before the sound of the doctor’s car could be heard and John finally came in. He looked preoccupied. And still wearing his church clothes, he seemed more solemn than ever.

“Did he tell her, Daddy?” Jason asked.

He nodded and sat down to drink his cold coffee. “Yep, he told her everythin’.”

“What’d Mama say?”

John shook his head and gazed thoughtfully at the table. “She didn’t say nothin’. She’s thinkin’ about it.”

“What do you think, Daddy?” Mary Ellen asked.

He considered the question for some time. Grandma put her knife on the sink and came over to hear his answer.

“In the end,” he said, “it’s your mama’s decision. I told her what I thought. And the doctor told her what she can expect if the treatment doesn’t work. He also told her how painful the whole thing will be.” He glanced at Grandpa. “Up till now I don’t think Livvy understood all the risks a thing like this has.”

“I think it would work,” Grandma said. But her voice was not as confident as before.

John shook his head. “I reckon none of us can say anythin’ for sure. If Livvy wants to go ahead with it, we’ll give her all the help we can. But if she decides against it, none of us better say anythin’ against her decision. Like Doc Vance says, we’ll start right off helpin’ her make the adjustment.” He looked around the table at each of them. “And nobody’ll ever even think about what it might have been like if she had decided different.”

They all nodded.

“I think you’re right, John,” Grandpa said. He glanced significantly at Grandma.

“Whatever Livvy says goes with me,” she said emphatically. “Lord knows all the pain and sufferin’ she’s already had. I ain’t goin’ to add to it.”

“Daddy?”

Erin was standing near the end of the table. Apparently she had come into the room without anybody seeing her.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Mama wants to see you. She wants all of us to come up.”

John-Boy felt his heart drop. Apparently she had come to some decision. But John-Boy had given up any hope of guessing what it might be. And there was no clue in Erin’s solemn expression.

They all rose. “Whatever she says,” John cautioned again, “it’s the right decision.”

John-Boy lagged to the rear and found Ben at his side.

“I wish that doctor from the college had just said to go ahead with it,” Ben whispered. “If he knew about the treatment when he first got sick, I’ll bet he’d have done it.”

John-Boy nodded. “I reckon we’d better not forget what Daddy said.”

Ben shrugged and dropped the matter.

She was wearing her blue bedjacket when they came in. From her propped-up pillows she smiled at each of them, watching as they found places to sit.

“How was church?” she finally asked.

“Real nice,” Grandma smiled, “and Reverend Fordwick delivered a real nice sermon. Don’t you think so, John?”

“Well, now, Mama, I don’t really have a lot to compare it to. But he sounded right sincere to me.”

“What’d he talk about?”

“He talked about makin’ a lot of noise,” Grandpa laughed. “And that husband of yours did just that.”

Olivia smiled. “Psalms, ninety-seven! I love that. ‘Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing’.”

“Daddy sang louder than anybody,” Elizabeth said.

John laughed and Olivia gazed at him with what seemed like more love than John-Boy had ever seen in anybody’s eyes. “I’m glad,” she said simply.

Suddenly John-Boy had a feeling that everything was going to be all right. No matter what his mother decided, everybody was going to do his best to make it work.

“Well,” she said lightly and smoothed the new signature quilt over her lap. “I had a very nice talk with Dr. Vance. He said that if we tried somethin’ like the Sister Kenny treatment these splints would have to come off my legs. And if that was done there would be a chance of my legs gettin’—gettin’ worse. But I reckon he told you all this already. He also said the treatments might hurt a little bit. In fact, I guess he doesn’t want me to try the treatments, because he said it would hurt a whole lot.”

She paused, but nobody made a sound.

“I reckon the only thing that’s worryin’ me is that—I mean if I went ahead with the treatment—is that it might be a whole lot of trouble for all of you.”

“Don’t you even think about that, little girl,” Grandpa said quickly.

She gave an embarrassed laugh and looked around at all of them. “Then I’d like to do it.”

John-Boy wasn’t aware of the fact that he had quit breathing. A wave of relief suddenly flooded through him; his father and everyone else in the room were grinning, and Elizabeth made a dash into her mother’s arms.

“Mama, I know you’re gonna get better,” Elizabeth blurted out, “and we’re goin’ to help you. We’re goin’ to help you every day, and do all those things to make you get better no matter what we have to do.”

“That’s right, Mama,” Jason added, and Ben and the other children nodded agreement, none of them trusting their voices.

“Don’t see how anyone could help but see the good sense in puttin’ hot foments on a person’s ailin’ muscles.” Grandma grinned. “We shoulda been doin’ it right from the start.”

John-Boy guessed his father was the happiest of all of them. There seemed to be big portions of pride and love and determination all mixed into his smile as he gazed at Olivia. He was silent while the others expressed approval of the decision. Then he leaned forward in his chair.

“Well, Livvy, when would you like to get started?”

She shrugged and looked down at her legs. “Seein’ as how it’s everybody else who’ll be doin’ the work, it’s up to you.”

“Right now!” Jim-Bob said.

“Yes,” the others chroused.

“Let’s take the splints off, Mama?”

“There’s an old wool blanket in the linen closet,” Mary Ellen said. “Shall we start cuttin’ it up?”

“Now, hold on a minute,” Grandpa said, “We can start doin’ all them things quick enough. But I reckon your Daddy’ll want to read over them pamphlets first and make sure we’ll be doin’ things just right. And I guess your Mama doesn’t want all of us starin’ at her while she gets them splints taken off. So how about if your Daddy and Grandma stay here and take care of that while the rest of us go down and get things started.”

John smiled. “Sounds like a good idea, Pa.”

Elizabeth gave her father a questioning look. “Daddy? What will Dr. Vance say if we take the splints off?”

“Well, sweetheart, I wouldn’t worry about it. Fact is, I kind of think he had an idea what was goin’ to happen when he left here today.”

“What’d he say, Daddy?” John-Boy asked.

“Nothin’ exactly straight out. But at his car he sort of said somethin’ about how medicine wasn’t a real exact science, and sometimes doctors don’t know why some people got cured. But he said he still didn’t believe in miracles.”

Grandma shook her head. “The poor man. That’s exactly what happens when a person gets all that book-learnin’.”

Olivia grinned and they all laughed.

None of them expected any instant improvement in Olivia’s condition. The pamphlets warned against it, suggesting it could be weeks before any signs of recovery became evident. The first step, which they continued for three days, involved only the wrapping of the legs in hot, wet strips of woolen blanket.

John-Boy’s task was to keep a steady supply of stovewood coming. During the day his father cut logs into foot-long chunks, and when John-Boy got home from school he split these into stove kindling and stacked them close to the back door. Ben and Jim-Bob transferred them to the kitchen, and were responsible for keeping the stove burning for a constant supply of hot water. Grandpa and Mary Ellen dipped the pieces of wool into the large cauldron of boiling water and put them through the wringer of the washing machine. With the damp strips still steaming, Jason and John-Boy quickly carried them upstairs in a wooden tub. There, Grandma, Erin and sometimes John, carefully wrapped the strips around Olivia’s legs, at the same time removing the ones that had cooled. Elizabeth, who had the tenderest skin, tested the strips before they were applied, making certain they were not too hot.

The treatments did seem to be painful, but Olivia insisted that she could stand it. Rather than a burning sensation, she said there was a deep aching that ran all the way up her spine. But there was no change in the total numbness of her legs.

While the children were in school, John, Grandpa and Grandma managed to give her two treatments, and then two more lengthier treatments were given in the afternoon and evening.

In spite of all the activity, Olivia insisted that Jason continue practicing his guitar for the big amateur contest. And Ben managed to sell most of his magazines by calling on two or three people each day after school.

Surprisingly, it was G. W. Haines who provided Mary Ellen with time to work on her dress. His first reaction to her announcement that she was going to the dance with him was less than enthusiastic.

“What dance?”

“The school dance that’s comin’ in two weeks. You asked me to go twice already.”

“Oh, that dance. But I didn’t think you’d really want to go.”

“Then why’d you ask me?”

“Well, I just thought—I mean I thought you’d just like it if I asked you. You never wanted to go to any dances before.”

“Well, I want to go to this one.”

“But I’ve never been to a dance before.”

“Neither have I.”

G. W. scratched his head and put his hands in and out of his pockets, but couldn’t think of any more arguments. Mary Ellen smiled, everything settled.

“So I gotta make this dress, and you gotta help me.”

“I ain’t doin’ no sewin on any dress.”

“You don’t have to. You just come over here a couple days a week and take my place wringin’ out these hot pieces of wool. That’ll give me time to work on the dress.”

G. W. was not certain about what he had committed himself to, but on those days he helped with the treatments he was an enthusiastic worker.

On Wednesday, the day they were scheduled to begin the massage and manipulation of the legs, John-Boy chopped the kindling hurriedly. When he finished, he stacked the pieces by the door, returned the ax to the barn, and then froze as he started back to the house.

“Well, I’m glad to find someone home. I’ve been knocking on the front door for five minutes.”

It was Dr. Vance—smiling, standing by the back porch with his bag.

John-Boy knew his father was upstairs helping with the hot compresses. And the kitchen was in a state of chaos, with the last batch of wool strips being prepared.

“I reckon nobody heard you, Dr. Vance.”

“I guess not.” He smiled, waiting for John-Boy to escort him in. “How’s your mother feeling?”

John-Boy didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t any noticeable improvement in her legs, but her spirits had risen considerably since the splints were taken off. “About the same, I reckon.”

“Well, do you think she’d like to see me?”

“Uh—yes. Sure. Come on in.”

John-Boy escorted him quickly through the kitchen. Grandpa and Jason looked up from their work and gaped for a second, but the doctor only had time to smile and nod at them.

“I’m not sure if she’s awake or not,” John-Boy said as they reached the top of the stairs. Then his heart dropped.

Lying on the floor a few feet from his mother’s bedroom door were the old splints the doctor had so carefully put on her legs. Until last night they had been on the floor of the bedroom. Then his mother had asked that they be taken out, saying they depressed her every time she looked at them.

John-Boy tried to keep himself between the doctor and the splints as he stopped at the door.

“I’ll just knock. I think Daddy might be in there.”

“Fine.”

“Daddy,” John-Boy said as the door opened, “Dr. Vance is here.”

His father stiffened. But he quickly smiled when he saw the doctor. “Come in, Doc. How are you?”

His father seemed to take the whole thing in stride, and his mother was smiling calmly from her bed.

“We’ve started the Kenny treatment, Doc, but so far we’ve only been doin’ the hot compresses. We figured we’d start the massagin’ this afternoon.”

John-Boy couldn’t help admiring his father’s airy manner. From the way he made the announcement, it might have been a procedure prescribed by Dr. Vance himself. The doctor’s cheerful smile faded a little. But if he had any feelings of anger he successfully hid them.

“I see. And how are you feeling, Mrs. Walton?” He glanced at the wooden tub and the disarray of damp woolen strips.

“I think I might have a little feelin’ in my legs, Dr. Vance. At least I seem to have a feelin’ that they’re there now.”

“That sounds encouraging.”

“I can’t wait to get started with the massagin’.”

Dr. Vance nodded and eased himself slowly into a chair. “I suppose there’s no point in my telling you again about all the risks you’re taking. I honestly don’t think this is going to work, Mrs. Walton. And I think you should get those splints back on as quickly as possible.” He sighed heavily. “However, I talked to Dr. Pierce again. I thought—I mean, on the chance you might go ahead with this, I asked him how he might proceed with such a treatment. Purely on a hypothetical basis, of course. He suggested that he would use a great deal of what they call a ‘sleeve massage.’ That is, in addition to a general massaging of the muscles, you work down the legs as if you were forcing all the blood to the toe. Then you work back up to the thigh in the same manner.”

They all stared at him. John finally smiled. “We’ll do that, Doc.”

“You understand, of course, that I don’t approve of this at all.” He shook his head and rose, still holding his bag. “As long as you’re feeling all right, I guess there’s no point in my examining you, Mrs. Walton. I would advise, however, that you don’t overdo these treatments so much you don’t get enough rest. The body is still its own best healer. For that you need rest and sleep.”