A Thousand Little Blessings (13 page)

 

Dr. Russell's car was in the driveway when Etta returned to her house. She hastened up the back steps and burst into the kitchen. “Is something wrong with Papa? Why is Dr. Russell here?”

Rosa turned from the stove. “There's no change in your Papa. Dr. Russell came to check on him. What happened to you?”

Etta brushed her hair back. “There was an accident in the stable, but I'm fine.” She headed toward the stairs.

Charlie Simpson stood in the hallway outside of her father's bedroom. “Mr. Simpson, is everything all right?” Etta asked.

He beamed a warm smile at her. “Your father's complaining so much the air is turning blue. Believe it or not, that's a good sign.”

Etta peered into her father's bedroom. He was sitting in an upholstered chair near the windows while the doctor examined him. “Da man…no res…don like…” Her father shook his head and gestured toward Charlie with his left hand.

Dr. Russell took her father's hands. “Now squeeze my hands, Henry. Is that as hard as you can squeeze them?” The doctor wrote a few notes and packed his bag. “I'll be back in a few days. In the meantime, keep doing your daily exercises. You're getting better, Henry. I know you're frustrated at how long it's taking, but you're improving.”

Etta's father shook his head and waved his arm in a dismissive gesture.

Dr. Russell stepped into the hall and gestured with his head for Etta and Charlie to follow him downstairs.

In the parlor, Etta braced herself for the doctor's prognosis.

“You're doing a good job, Charlie. Mr. Davis's motor skills have improved, and his speech will gradually return. Although…” Dr. Russell dipped his head and looked over his glasses, “you may be sorry you ever helped Henry recover his speech. He's certainly in a foul mood today.”

Charlie laughed. “It's not just today, Doc. But we both know how aggravated a patient feels when he's suddenly incapacitated the way Mr. Davis is. He still hasn't accepted the fact he's not going to wake up one morning and be magically healed.”

“Keep following the reconstruction plan I gave you. Do you have any questions for me before I leave?”

Charlie shook the doctor's hand. “Nope. But I'll give you a call if anything comes up. Right now, I need to get Mr. Davis's dinner.” Charlie headed toward the kitchen.

Dr. Russell pursed his lips and turned to Etta. “Now, Miss Henrietta, I hope you understand why I said your father needed a convalescent home.”

“But you said he was doing better.”

Dr. Russell put on his hat. “He's improving, but he could have made much more progress if he'd been in a facility where he'd get round-the-clock care. The convalescent home in Dallas I spoke to you about has nurses and aides who are specially trained to work with stroke victims. Charlie Simpson is a good man, but he can't provide the same level of care a team of professionals can.”

“Are you saying I should send Papa to Dallas?”

“It's your decision, Henrietta. All I can do is make a recommendation.”

“What will happen if I don't follow your advice?”

“I'm no soothsayer, but I'd be a lot more certain of his recovery if he were in the hands of trained medical staff. I'll be back in a few days. Call me if you need me before then.”

The doctor walked to his car and drove away.

What was she supposed to do now? Send Papa to Dallas where strangers would be in charge of his care or keep him home? She couldn't go to Dallas with him, especially with problems at the bank. Where was her mother when she needed her?

Etta rubbed her forehead and blinked back tears. Her mother wasn't coming back, and her father couldn't solve the bank's problems. Whether she was ready for it or not, this was Etta's fight. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the kitchen.

Charlie was setting a plate of food on a wooden tray. “Don't let your papa's sour disposition upset you, Miss Davis. Stroke victims often have a difficult time controlling their emotions.”

Etta picked up the tray and headed toward the stairs. “I'll help him with dinner, Mr. Simpson. You stay down here and have a bite.”

“Don't mind if I do,” Charlie said with another broad smile and a wink. “I'm sure Rosa will fix me something mighty tasty.”

Rosa waved a dishtowel at him. “What nonsense. You'd eat anything put in front of you.”

Charlie rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling. “That's not quite true. I once turned down fried crickets.”

“Then don't eat the rice I made tonight,” Rosa said with a straight face. “I put grasshoppers in it.”

Charlie's eyebrows shot up.

Etta followed Rosa's lead. “Haven't you ever wondered about that crunchy stuff in Rosa's food?”

A beat of silence passed before Charlie shook his head and chuckled. “Oh, you're both pulling my leg. Aren't you?”

Rosa crossed her arms and cocked her head, but Etta couldn't hold in her laughter. “Rosa has more power than anyone else in this house, Mr. Simpson. I wouldn't make her mad if I were you.”

“No ma'am,” Charlie said as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Why, I would do anything for Miss Rosa. Yes, I surely would.”

Rosa shook her head but smiled.

Etta headed up the back stairs.

Her father was still in his reading chair when she arrived with his dinner. He was gazing through the window, his face an impassive mask, but tears rolled quietly down his cheeks.

“Oh, Papa.” Etta set the tray on the side table and hurried to his side. “What is it, Papa?”

He gestured with his left hand. “Nnn…Nito…he…”

Etta glanced through the window and saw Rosa's nephew bringing Antares into the stable. “Benito? Yes. He's feeding the horses and brushing them. I was just in the stable. Everything's fine there.” She took a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her father's tears, but he did not seem to notice. “Are you ready to eat? Rosa made one of your favorites—beef tips with rice and gravy.”

Etta moved the table in front of her father's chair and tucked a large white napkin into his collar. She speared a chunk of meat with the fork and held it to her father's mouth.

“Nnn…No.” Henry grasped the fork in his left hand and brought the food to his mouth. He could feed himself!

A long breath passed through Etta's lips and her shoulders dropped in relief. Her father was getting better. She'd spent time with him every evening after dinner, but he'd usually slept while she sewed. This was the first time she'd seen real progress. Etta pulled a stepstool close and sat at her father's side.

His hand shook, and he chewed slowly and deliberately, but he managed to get the food where it belonged. So what if his recovery took longer at home? Mr. Simpson obviously knew what he was doing or her father would still be bedridden. But perhaps he could make the decision for himself.

“Papa,” she began slowly. “Dr. Russell thinks you should go to a convalescent home in Dallas.”

“Hmph.”

“He says the convalescent home has experts who could help you recuperate faster. If you want to go there, I'll let the doctor know.”

For the first time that evening, Henry looked Etta in the eye. “No.” He shook his head for emphasis. “No go.”

Etta's chest warmed with relief. She placed her hand on his forearm. “All right, Papa.” Then she closed her eyes in prayer. She had a lot she wanted to talk to the Lord about, but at that moment, she needed to send her gratitude heavenward.

 

****

 

Gabriel crossed the footbridge that led to the Davis's land. He'd been walking for three hours. He was hungry and thirsty, but he owed Etta an apology and an explanation.

He strode past their picnic spot and entered the stable. As he'd expected, the Arabians were bedded down, safe, and well-cared for. Now that Benito was helping out, Etta didn't really need Gabriel to tend the horses. But he'd miss his daily rides, not to mention the opportunity to see her. Just a glimpse of Etta could lighten his mood and kindle that last spark of hope that lay in his heart.

He had so little to offer her. What could she possibly want with an ex-soldier who spent every night with the ghosts of his fallen comrades? Gabriel had gone to college with dreams of an engineering degree. It was clear that automobiles would change the way people lived, and the state would need roads and bridges. His future had seemed secure. Until he'd decided to join the Army with his college buddies. They'd planned to serve together and come home as heroes, but France had changed all of them in one way or another.

Gabriel closed the stable door and walked slowly toward the front door of the Davis's house. What kind of man built such a huge place for a family of three? Henry Davis must have been proud of his riches and determined to show everyone just how successful he was.

Gabriel's family lived in four rooms. Their home was comfortable, and he and his father had installed indoor plumbing a few years earlier. But the Davis house probably had several bathrooms, each with a marble tub and gold faucets. What could he ever offer Etta?

Gabriel knocked loudly on the front door. Maybe it was too late to bother her. He had no idea what time it was, but the lights were still on.

A dark-haired middle-aged woman dressed in a white blouse and dark skirt opened the door. “Yes?”

Gabriel removed his hat. “Evening, ma'am. I'd like to see Etta.”

The woman squinted into the darkness. “Is that you, Gabriel Benson?”

“Yes, ma'am. Is Etta still awake?”

The woman stepped aside, allowing Gabriel to enter. “She's upstairs with her father. I'll call her.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

The woman headed up the stairs, and Gabriel looked around the foyer.

It wasn't just the size of the house that bespoke of Henry Davis's wealth. Highly polished wood paneling covered the walls and stained glass windows were situated along the staircase to catch the morning sunlight. Thick rugs covered the tile floors and a white caisson ceiling towered overhead. In the adjoining parlor, the furniture was deeply upholstered and gathered around an ample fireplace.

If Gabriel saved every penny he earned for the rest of his life, he could never buy a palace like this.

“Gabriel?” Etta hurried down the stairs. “Is everything all right?”

She was so lovely. Her cheeks were the color of peaches and her skin as fair as lilies. Would she ever let him kiss her?

Etta laid her hand on his sleeve. “Can I get you something? Have you had dinner?”

“I wouldn't say no to a glass of water.”

“I'm sure I can do better than that.” She turned and headed toward the back of the house.

He followed her into the brightly lit kitchen. White tile and glass-fronted cabinets set off the latest appliances.

Etta removed a pitcher from the ice box and poured water into a glass. “Sit down. What else can I get you? There's some cheese in here and Rosa's homemade tortillas. I could make something for you.”

“Don't go to any trouble, Etta. The water's enough for now. Knowing my mother, she's kept my dinner warm.” Gabriel emptied the glass of cool water in one long drink.

Etta refilled the glass. “Remember that quilt I was working on? Your mother and the ladies from the church sewing circle are going to finish it for me.”

“Mom loves to get together with the ladies from the church for sewing circles. I learned to avoid going inside when she had the ladies over to our house.”

“Why? Don't tell me they were mean to you.”

“No, but there's only so much pecking a young rooster can take from a group of hens.”

Etta smiled broadly, lifting Gabriel's mood and encouraging him. She obviously wasn't angry, and she bore no visible injuries from the incident in the stable. “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked.

Etta glanced through the window.

“I know it's late,” Gabriel said, “but…”

“Actually, I was planning on going to my spot by the creek tonight. I have some praying to do.”

“Do you mind some company?”

“Not at all. Just give me a minute. There's a lantern on the back porch.”

“I'll take care of the lantern and meet you outside.”

She nodded and headed up the back stairs. Gabriel found the kerosene lantern and lit it. Despite her reassurance, Etta must think him half mad for jumping on top of her in the stable. But how should he broach the story of what he'd done in France? Etta's good opinion was important to him, and once she knew how costly his mistake had been, there was little chance she'd ever look at him the way she did now.

“I'm ready,” Etta said as she re-entered the kitchen. Gabriel opened the back door and followed her outside.

The moonless sky was awash with stars. They both stopped and tipped their heads back to take in the sight.

“The heavens declare the glory of God,” Gabriel said.

“And the firmament showeth His handiwork,” Etta concluded.

“Did you see Halley's Comet when it came through?”

“Of course. The science teacher at Bennett's Schools for Girls brought a telescope, and we all had a look at it. What about you?”

“I saw it while I was in college. What did you think about it?”

“I thought it was amazing. I expected it to streak across the sky like a big meteor, but we couldn't see it move. Could you?”

“No, but my physics professor showed us how to chart its movement, and then it made sense. Remember all the silly things people did?”

“My roommate's mother sent anti-comet pills and a gas mask.”

“Roommate? Were you at a boarding school?”

“In Philadelphia.”

“I thought you were living with an aunt up there.”