The cool water washing over my skin felt like a little bit of heaven. For a few minutes, I forgot everything. Didn’t even notice Granddaddy watching me till he spoke up, his voice like a song sung low and slow.
“Grandma gonna tan your hide if ya don’t get to those eggs soon, young lady.”
While he tried to sound as serious as he could, his winking eye told me he wouldn’t tell. I sat there with the water and the events of the day dripping over me as I mustered up a dramatic sigh.
“Tough day, Pixie?”
Only Granddaddy and Charlotte call me Pixie. And not hearing Charlotte say it lately makes the sound of it coming from Granddaddy’s mouth sound extra sweet.
And then, like the water that wouldn’t stop dripping from my soaking-wet hair, my words started dripping from my mouth again, telling Granddaddy the story of my terrible day.
Granddaddy squatted down to be more on my level.
“And then, Miss Meany—”
He bunched up his eyebrows into a frown, his eyes telling me to be respectful so his mouth didn’t have to.
“Sorry. So then, Miss Beany tells Daddy that I stayed after school to get help from her. Why’d she go and do that? Why’d she fib for me?”
“Do you think, Pixie, that maybe Miss Beany figured you’d had enough bad luck for one day—maybe for one month—one year?” he said, chewing on a piece of wheat that moved when he talked. “Do you think just maybe she felt bad about adding to your bad luck by forgettin’ you in that closet?”
I wasn’t sure if Granddaddy wanted me to answer his questions or not, so I stayed quiet.
“You know,” he added, “sometimes we decide who someone is long before they have a chance to show us who they really are. Do you think maybe she’s just a nice lady?”
Now, I’ve been told I have a good imagination. It’s easy for me to imagine conversations between animals. It’s easy for me to imagine I can sprout wings and fly. And of course, it’s easy for me to imagine funny names for people. But asking me to imagine Miss Meany-Beany actually being nice, after all this time spent believing she was mean, was too much. But before I could answer, Granddaddy and I both heard the screen door creak open, and out walked Grandma with her arms folded across her chest.
“Now, if you want to see what mean looks like”— Granddaddy chuckled—“make your grandma wait a little longer for those eggs.”
I got up and brushed the dirt off my backside and then reached for the basket.
“It’s all gonna be okay, Pixie.” Granddaddy said that like he was talking about more than just Miss Beany.
I gave Granddaddy a smile so he wouldn’t worry about me, but any hint of a smile disappeared when I opened the double doors of the henhouse.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star . . .” I sang as loud as I could to scare the darn chickens as I waved the empty egg basket in the air. Most of the fifty hens flew off their perches. Not wasting a second, I ran to their empty spots and started collecting the eggs as fast as I could.
And then I looked at her: the old fat hen I’d named Teacher, since she always acted like she was in charge of me. She stared at me with her beady eyes and puffed up her feathery chest, daring me to try to get her egg.
I decided I wasn’t going to let her win this one. Especially not after the day I’d had.
I knew Charlotte was never afraid of Teacher. She’d march right up to her, put one firm hand on Teacher’s head, and reach under that old hen with her other hand, grabbing the egg like it was nothing at all.
That was one of the many reasons I wanted to be like Charlotte. But all that was just a painful reminder I wasn’t at all like my sissy. And it was extra painful when I reached under that old hen as fast as I could to try and grab that egg only to have that dang bird start pecking my hand like it was her dinner.
I pulled my hand back, but not before one of the pecks drew a pinpoint of blood. That was it! She could keep that rotten egg for all I cared. I wasn’t going to have my hand used for chicken feed. I gathered the rest of the warm eggs and headed back to the house, knowing good and well I deserved all these bad things and so much more.
CHAPTER 6
When Sunday morning rolled around, I woke up and smiled, remembering today was the day I was going to finally get to visit Charlotte!
Right after church, Grandma packed a lunch for Granddaddy, Daddy, and me to take with us on our trip. She claimed she had too many chores to join us, but I suspected she didn’t like being in a car for that long.
There’s one main road that runs between the farm and the hospital. Granddaddy warned it wasn’t just a stone’s throw away, the distance he gives most things, but even knowing that, it seemed like we were never going to get there.
I watched out my car window, seeing leaves blowing everywhere and thinking how fast the weather had changed from blazin’ hot to downright cool in only a couple of days. Beside me was a brown bag full of Charlotte’s favorite oatmeal cookies, and I tried to picture her eating one.
These days, I would often close my eyes to picture Charlotte doing things. I did that same thing to remember Mama, but each time it got harder and harder, and I wasn’t going to let that happen with my sissy.
I closed my eyes tight and held my breath even tighter, hoping that might make it easier to see her.
It worked! I let my breath out, sounding like I’d sprung a leak.
I still remembered.
But I needed to see my sissy soon. “Are we there yet?”
“Yep. We’re here,” Granddaddy joked. “Don’t ya see Charlotte standing on the side of the road right there?”
I didn’t laugh. “Why is the hospital so far?”
Daddy spoke this time. “Riley Hospital is one of the best in the nation for treating polio. When the county hospital realized that’s what she had, they moved her to Riley, where she can get the best treatment. We’re lucky.”
Lucky isn’t a word I’d use to describe any of this. Still, I could imagine Charlotte saying the same thing. She acted like every day was a wrapped-up present just waiting for her to open and see what was inside.
Finally, the empty, endless road began to show signs of civilization. There was a sign for Indianapolis, and soon we started passing what had to be some of the most beautiful houses I ever did see.
And then I saw the sign saying “Riley Hospital for Children.” It was the prettiest building yet. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a castle, covered in more windows than I’d ever seen in my life.
Daddy parked the car and told Granddaddy and me to have our lunch while he went in to talk to the nurses.