Katie's Dream (32 page)

Samuel was quiet that night. He said all the Hammonds could stay over if they wanted to, the way we did sometimes on Sunday nights, but he didn't seem like himself. I read from our
Illustrated Bible Stories,
thinking of Franky, who always loved for me to read out loud. Maybe Samuel was thinking of Franky too. After a while he got up and went outside.

I would have handed Lizbeth the book to finish for me, but Emma Grace was getting tired and fussy, and Lizbeth was trying to get her settled down. All of the older Hammond
boys could read, but I knew they didn't like to. So, with my heart yearning after Samuel, I handed the big book to Robert and asked him to read one more story.

It was dusky gray outside with a lot of clouds moving in. I hoped it would rain overnight for the sake of the crops. The little we'd had wasn't enough. I brushed a pesky insect away from my face and walked to the apple tree, where Samuel stood still as a statue, staring up at the sky.

“Franky'll be all right,” I told him softly. “He's in good spirits. Very good, considering it all. I hope you're not blaming yourself.”

“I should. I should've shooed the kids inside when we saw Edward coming.”

“There was no way you could have known.”

“I know.” He looked down for a moment, then out across the field.

“It was an accident,” I said. “Even as coldhearted as he seems, I'm sure Edward didn't mean to do what he did.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Samuel, what's wrong?”

He turned his eyes toward me. “Did you ever lie to the kids?”

“No,” I said instantly, surprised he would ask such a question. “There are things I don't tell them. But . . . but I don't lie.”

“I know. You're a good mother, Julia. You're a blessing.”

“Samuel—”

“No. Don't say anything right now.” He took me in his arms. He held me tight, and I could feel the tension in his shoulders, in his back. I wanted to ask him what in the world was going on, why would he question me about something like that. But even more, I wanted to respect his simple request, so I didn't say a word, only held him and prayed that the storm in his heart would soon be past.

Finally he stepped away, just a little, looking like a
weight was dragging him down. “Juli, what if she's my sister?”

I stood for a moment, speechless. Sister? It couldn't be. She was only six years old.

I didn't have time to say what I was thinking. Rorey and Harry came running out of the house, yelling that Robert was done reading and could we catch fireflies or play “Twelve O'Clock the Ghosts Come Out”?

“No,” Samuel said, more quickly than I expected. “No ghosts around here.”

“No ghosts at all,” Rorey laughed. “Mama tol' me long time ago that's make believe, but it's still a fun game.”

The other kids were coming out, and Samuel looked toward the porch, where Katie was standing, looking our way. It seemed that tonight they shared the same haunted eyes. It made me remember Katie's first night here, with both of them dreaming unsettling dreams.

“Samuel, your father's dead, isn't he?” I had to ask, though he'd plainly told me so, after finally admitting he'd known his father.

“I don't know,” he said.

I didn't know what to think. He'd lied once, telling me his daddy left when he was an infant and never came back. But he'd made that right, telling me the truth later. Hadn't he?

“Samuel, you said—”

“My mother said,” he corrected, and I could see the pain working in his eyes. “But, honey, I don't know. Katie told me she remembers some ruffian named Samuel. And hiding from him—maybe. If it wasn't all some crazy dream. She thought it was me. But he had the same tattoo. A bird. Like my father had. How could she know about that?”

“Oh, Sammy . . .” I held him again, though the children were watching us now. Strangely, he didn't seem to care.

“What if he's alive?” he asked me. “What if my mother
lied? What if he's out there somewhere, still wreaking havoc? Why didn't he ever come back?”

“Shhh,” I said gently. “Too many questions for one night. Maybe there's a way. Maybe we can find out something tomorrow—”

“I don't know if I can call her again. What is she going to think, after all this time, if I ask her—”

“Who cares what she thinks? You have a right to know.”

He looked at me strangely, as if he'd expected me to say he should spare his mother the shock of being doubted. “We can go into Dearing and use Charlie's phone,” I told him. “We should go to town anyway, to see if Ben Law has found out anything more.”

“We?”

“If you want it to be we.”

“You don't think this is ridiculous?”

“You don't. And you know what that little girl told you.”

He looked over at Katie, who was still waiting on the porch steps.

“Hey! Will you play with us?” Harry was yelling.

Samuel looked at me, and much to my surprise he smiled. “Let's play.”

“Are you sure? You look so tired.”

“Not tired. Weighed down. Maybe I need a good game.” He went straight for the porch, took Katie's hand, and explained to her the silly game the Hammonds had taught us sometime last summer. All the kids gathered around him. It wasn't every night that they got the grown-ups to play along. It was enough to convince even the older ones to join in too. All except Lizbeth, who had just laid Emmie down and was inside rocking Bert. I didn't want her feeling alone, so I pulled a rocker onto the porch for her and, when she came out, sat down beside her to watch most of the kids disappear behind bushes, trees, wherever they
could find a place. Samuel and Katie were “it” together the first time and went walking out from the house.

“One o'clock the ghosts come out.” A giant step.

“Two o'clock the ghosts come out.” Another step. And on, one giant step at a time, toward the middle of the yard, counting out an hour with every step. When Samuel and Katie got to twelve o'clock, all the kids jumped from their hiding places with a yell and ran like mad for the porch steps. Samuel and Katie, once she got over the start, had to tag as many as they could before the kids got home.

They played over and over, with all of the children agreeing that Samuel was the scariest to have leaping out from behind a bush in the dark.

Soon they were running around catching fireflies and letting them go. Lizbeth leaned her head back in the old rocker, looking like a skinnier version of her mother in the moonlight.

“I may not have so many kids,” she told me. “Except in a classroom. Did you know the Porters are making a special fund for people who want to be teachers? Ben told me about it. College money. Only you have to pass a test.”

I hadn't realized she'd had time to talk to the Porter boy while getting her little brothers some lemonade on the Fourth. But I was glad for what was surely a God-given opportunity.

“You're going to try for it, aren't you?”

“Ben said I should.”

“I agree with him.”

She smiled. “I knew you would. But I didn't tell Pa yet. Don't think he'd want me gone.”

“He'd get used to it,” I assured her. “Everybody'd manage just fine. Don't let that stop you.”

“It'll be hard. But the test's not till next spring. I have time.” She looked out over the wide yard, her smile getting bigger. “Mrs. Wortham, it's like having a sweet little dream all to myself.”

I smiled too, glad for the ambition that would surely move Lizbeth to good things in her life. She looked up at the sky and out over the yard, quiet for a few moments. The clouds had left, and it was getting really dark now.

“Guess we'd better get the kids to bed,” she told me with a sigh.

I nodded, thinking that she sounded more grown up than ever. “Bedtime!” I called, knowing it was late and eyelids would be getting droopy.

Sitting on the porch was so peaceful that I wondered why in the world Samuel had decided to run himself all over the yard with the kids. But they loved it, every last one of them. It was hard, rounding them up for bed. We'd have the whole bunch sleeping on the sitting room floor again, and I wondered if Katie felt overwhelmed, having such a crew here.

I hoped Franky was doing all right. I missed him, because out of all of the kids, he would be the most likely to sit on the porch with Lizbeth and me and say something unexpected or profound about dreams of his own. And I thought about George. Maybe he just didn't know how to take Franky. Maybe that was his problem. His son was the only nine-year-old we knew who couldn't read. And the only person under twenty to understand half of what the preacher talked about. No wonder George was confused.

Lizbeth's thoughts right then must have been similar. “I hope Pa's keepin' quiet,” she said. “And I hope Franky's doin' okay. I'm sure glad Pastor got a chance to talk to him like that. He oughta know what goes on inside Franky's head. Do you reckon he'll be a preacher one day?”

“I don't know, Lizbeth. Seems to me he could be.”

Little Harry had run up to us on the porch. “Does we have to go to bed so soon?” he complained.

“It isn't soon,” I told him. “It's already late. And we have plenty to do in the morning.”

“Like what?” he questioned, his eyes shining bright in the moonlight.

“Same chores we do every day, silly,” Lizbeth told him. “You don't have enough of 'em, that's your problem.”

“I wanna catch me a turtle,” the little boy said. “Joe finished cookin' that one, an' it was yummy.”

“Well, I wish you would. We could stand another one. But we got to finish the regular stuff first.”

“You mean I can go?” Harry asked with enthusiasm.

“Not tonight,” Lizbeth said with a sigh. “Sometime. But you gotta take somebody with you.”

Harry smiled, nodded his head, and marched in the house. I was just thinking how easy this was compared to the struggle he usually put up, when I heard Sarah yelling, “No! No! Mommy don't like you doing that!”

I rushed in to find Harry standing on the kitchen table, about to take a flying leap into the middle of the room. Before I could say anything, Samuel whisked him off and plopped him onto the floor.

“We don't do that,” he said sternly. “Not any time, for any reason. Jump off the stump in the yard tomorrow if you want to.”

“Okay,” Harry laughed.

“How come you didn't play with us, Mommy?” Sarah asked.

“I was enjoying just watching this time, honey. Sometimes I like to look at all of you having fun together. That was fun for me.”

“It's not hard if you want to learn it next time,” Katie told me. “I'd help you.”

I smiled. “Thank you. That's very kind.”

“She already knows how!” Rorey burst out. “Me an' Willy teached her a long time ago!”

Katie kept looking at me. “You're not scared, are you?”

“'Course she's not!” Rorey roared. “There ain't no real ghosts.”

But I had a feeling Katie was talking about something else considerably more than a childish game. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew what I should say. “No, honey, I'm not. And you don't need to be either.”

She looked over at Samuel and smiled.

Could she be his sister? That would certainly explain the resemblance. But could it be?

“How long's this girl gonna stay with you, anyway?” Rorey asked, just as rude as could be.

“I don't know,” I answered her. “But she'll always be welcome. Time to hush and get yourself ready for bed now.”

We spread covers all over the sitting room for the kids to lie on top of. Berty and Emma Grace were already asleep. Katie got her paper dolls to set by her pillow, and Sarah snuggled in beside her.

“I wanna be by the window,” Rorey complained. “Come on, Sarah, let's go by the window.”

But Sarah and her dolly were already settled next to Katie's paper family. “No, I want to stay here.”

“Humph,” Rorey answered and plopped herself just as close to the window as she could go.

“I'll be by you,” Harry said. “Let's pertend we's wolves. See the big ol' moon out there?”

Rorey and Harry both took to howling like mad, and I had to shush them quick for fear they'd wake the baby.

“You two be still,” Lizbeth scolded. “If you be real nice, maybe Mr. Wortham'll tell you a story.”

“Okay!” Harry exclaimed immediately. I could tell that Willy and Kirk were less than thrilled, but they didn't say anything.

“Will you tell us a story, Daddy?” Sarah begged. “Please?” Turning to Katie, she whispered, “Don't you want Daddy to tell us a story?”

I winced just a little, wondering how the girl would react. She sniffed just a little, her eyes on the little paper figures. “I would like a story,” she said quietly. “If it's a real
good
story.”