Prayers of Agnes Sparrow (39 page)

“Look, Eugene's here,” someone shouted, and all heads turned to the back, to the miserable little corner were Eugene stood.

“Eugene was right. Agnes is a devil,” someone shouted.

A self-satisfied smile smeared across Eugene's disgusting face as he leaned on his cane. “I told you the sky was going to fall. I told you. I told you all.”

From where I stood it looked like his ugly nose had gotten even larger. He thrust his cane toward the ceiling. “Repent! Repent now, all of you. Resist the devil and she will flee.”

Eugene slinked down the side aisle as every eye watched. When he finally got to the front of the room, he stopped near me and spat on the floor. “Agnes Sparrow brought evil to this town just like I said she would.”

“Hey,” Dot Handy said. “You can’t go spitting on the town hall floor. Someone has to clean that up.”

Boris banged his gavel six times until the room quieted down.

Eugene continued to shake his cane over us like he was trying to dispel evil spirits. “Repent! Repent!”

Then Jasper York stood. I could see his legs wobble as Harriett took hold of his elbow.

“I got no more repenting to do. A man my age ain’t capable of too much more sinning, not like in my glory days on the front lines. But I will say this much. Agnes is not to blame. We all took a shine to that boy and none of us was able to see him for what he was.”

“Hear, hear,” Studebaker said.

Jasper sat down with a thud and a rock of his chair. For a second I thought he might topple back into Hazel Flatbush's lap.

Boris raised his hands and shushed everyone. “Now, before we move on to deciding exactly what we are going to do in light of this terrible tragedy, this severe problem, I got to ask if anyone else would like to speak.”

Tohilda Best moved to the front of the room and stood by Boris. She wore a pressed and tidy pink dress with white lace trim and a sweet spring hat for the occasion. “Now I can’t say for sure that Agnes Sparrow brought evil to this town. All I know is the man she befriended, the man she prayed for, killed our dear friend and neighbor, Vidalia Whitaker.”

She paused until more shouts and applause quieted down. Then she continued. “And to think that the Society of Angelic Philanthropy bought that man new shoes and socks. Well, that just fries my cookies. But we ladies of The Society took our own vote and decided that Agnes Sparrow should not be held accountable, although her reputation as a miracle worker should be expunged from any public record and no longer be tolerated.”

“Preach it, sister,” Jasper shouted.

“So we hereby agree that the Agnes Sparrow welcome sign should be removed—posthaste.”

I swallowed and looked at Tohilda. She didn’t look at me, and I had the nasty little thought never to let her have meetings in my library again.

Another hour slipped by as folks shouted and spoke about why or why not Agnes should be held accountable. By the end of the evening, after all the goodies had been eaten, the coffee pot drained to the last drop, and the older folks gone home to bed, it was decided that the sign would be taken down and replaced with the old one.

“Then it's decided,” Boris said. “We will also tell Filby Pruett to stop work immediately on the statue.”

“He’ll need to crush it,” Janeen said. “Turn it to dust—” She heaved a sigh. “—just like our dear, sweet Vidalia.”

Hazel cried into her hanky.

Zeb took my hand. “This will blow over one day.”

“I don’t care one single iota about the sign, Zeb. It's what they think about Agnes that has me so worried. She’ll die if people stop coming to her for prayer.”

Boris slammed his trusty gavel three more times and brought the meeting to a close. Folks filed out, still slinging complaints and barbs dipped in fear and venom at Agnes.

I
walked back to Vidalia's with Ruth and Ivy. Ivy didn’t know I’d left Agnes.

“It's just for a little while,” I said. “I needed some peace and quiet to think on a few things.”

“What things?” she asked. “You ain’t thinking about siding with Eugene and the rest of them loudmouths?”

“No, no. It's not that.” I glanced at Ruth who was biting her tongue so hard I thought it would bleed. “I’ll go back—soon,” I said.

“I’ve been checking in on her,” Ruth said. “But Griselda is going to have a nurse see to Agnes if she stays away much longer.”

“I’ll be glad to help,” Ivy said.

“Thank you, Ivy,” I said. “If you could even stop in tonight, I’d appreciate it.”

Ruth said something I didn’t catch. “What did you say?”

“Oh, all right. I think you should go tell Agnes what happened at the meeting, that's all.”

Ivy grabbed Ruth's hand. “Let's both go. Griselda knows what she needs to do.”

I
watched as they headed off together toward my house, and a thick sadness settled into my chest like a fog off the mountains. I should be the one going home. But I felt like a torn-up rag inside, and I was much too afraid of my own feelings to handle Agnes's.

When I got back to Vidalia's I tried to carry on as usual, but my thoughts continually turned to Agnes. Finally, I gave in. I packed my small bag, tucked Arthur under my arm, and headed home—on foot.

Along the way I paused now and again and let the fresh, spring air wrap around me. Studebaker was sitting on his porch swing, smoking a cigar. The smell mixed with the dewy air and tickled my nose.

“Griselda,” he called with a wave. “Come on up here.” I carted my stuff up on the porch.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what happened tonight. It's like a slap in the face, a slap in the face.”

I waved the acrid smoke away. He smiled. “Sorry, Griselda, but sometimes there just ain’t nothing like a fine cigar.”

“It's okay. I’m just not used to it.”

“Yeah, and I will never get used to people being so mean-spirited.”

“Fear makes people act in odd ways, Stu. They’re just afraid of another Hezekiah coming to town.”

“Oh, I can see that.” He blew a perfect smoke ring. “I can see that, but they still got no right to shun Agnes the way they have. It's like they forgot all the good she did. Like it doesn’t count anymore.”

I rubbed Arthur's neck. He kept his nose tilted toward the sky enjoying the crisp air.

“It counts Stu, it will always count.”

Stu stubbed the cigar out in a glass ashtray. “Where are you headed? I just noticed your bag.”

“I’m going home, Stu. I’ve left Agnes alone long enough.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. How come you left to begin with? I was thinking maybe you were feeling like the rest of the folks in town.”

There was no point in telling him about Clarence.

“I just needed a break.”

Stu nodded. I said good night and went home.

Arthur leapt from my arms and made a beeline for the backyard. He had his own business to tend to.

I pushed open the door. Ruth and Ivy were still with her.

“Griselda,” Ruth said, “I thought you were staying at Vidalia's again tonight. But I got to say I’m glad you came home.”

Ivy, who was standing as far from Agnes as she could without being too rude, looked daggers at me. “It's good you came back. Agnes needs you.”

“No, no,” Agnes said. “Don’t be mad at Griselda. She had a right to leave.”

Ivy took a step closer. “What right? What right does a sister have for leaving another sister in such—such obvious distress.”

“I am not in distress,” Agnes said. “I’ve just had a bit of trouble getting around and sometimes it's just easier to stay in bed.”

Ruth took hold of Ivy's hand. “Griselda's leaving has nothing to do with what happened to Vidalia—well, not directly anyway.”

I took off my coat and dropped my bag. “How are you, Agnes?”

She looked at me with those tiny eyes of hers that seemed to have gotten even smaller. “I’m glad you’re back. You are back?”

“I better get you changed and get some fresh sheets. Are you hungry?”

“Well, sure. Ruth and Ivy already told me about that Donnybrook Fair of a town meeting. I don’t care a lick about the sign, Griselda, and nothing they say or do will ever make me stop praying, so it's like nothing ever happened. They don’t know what they’re doing.”

I understood what she was trying to say, but the words still made me angry. Plenty had happened.

After Ruth and Ivy left, I helped Agnes out of bed and changed her sheets and the mattress pad. Then I gave her a sponge bath and got her into fresh underwear and a nice clean nightgown.

“Thank you, Griselda. I feel so much better.”

I nodded. “Are you hungry?”

Agnes and I ate cereal and some old ice cream.

“It isn’t terrible,” she said. “A little freezer burn, but chocolate is chocolate no matter what.”

“I’ll run to the Piggly Wiggly in the morning.”

M
orning came quickly. I awoke to the sounds of Agnes coughing and gasping for air. I tossed my blanket off and hurried downstairs to her side. She was in the throes of another asthma attack.

“Agnes. Use your inhaler. Did you use your inhaler?”

She shook her head no.

“Here, use it. I’ll call Doc.”

She gave me no argument; Agnes was in real distress. She gasped and wheezed like an old train desperately trying to make it up a steep hill. Her hand shook as she lifted the tiny inhaler to her mouth and squeezed the canister. She took one sharp, deep inhale and let the vaporous drug remain in her mouth and lungs, and then she took another. I could almost see the medicine race to her bronchial passages as her breaths started to come more in wheezes than gasps. Perspiration dripped down her blushed cheeks.

I heard Doc's car land on the front lawn. He raced through the door lickety-split, still in his robe and slippers with his stethoscope swinging around his neck.

“Okay, Agnes, I’m here,” he called from the entryway. He dashed into the viewing room. “You both look in a panic. Now you know that's the worst thing for asthma.” He prepared an injection and shot it into her upper arm.

“Dang blubber, Agnes, it's gonna kill you.”

“Doc, bedside manner, remember?” I said.

“No time for that, Griselda.” He patted Agnes's hand and then listened with his stethoscope.

He fired up the nebulizer. “Too much stress. Too much. Between that sign and Vidalia and the dang fool town meeting, not to mention all that weight on your organs, Agnes, it just isn’t good. Just isn’t good for your heart or your lungs, not to mention what it's doing to your joints.”

Agnes's face went from fear to frustration. She shook her head with the plastic mask, covering her nose and mouth.

“Doc, take it easy,” I said.

He poked the ends of the stethoscope into his ears and listened to her chest. He closed his eyes and listened more deeply.

That was when he signaled that he wanted to speak with me on the side. We didn’t go far from Agnes, and both Doc and I kept one eye on her as we talked.

“I am so glad you came to your senses and came home, Griselda. She needs someone here—full time or as near as full time as possible. That attack could have been fatal. Full time is how she needs you. Can you stand that?”

I sighed. I didn’t know the answer.

Doc went back to Agnes and listened to her chest. “Better. Keep breathing.”

“Maybe it's time to start thinking about Greenbrier,” he said when he got back to me.

I peered out the front window. Hazel Flatbush and Tohilda Best had stopped out front. It wasn’t hard to imagine their conversation.

“That's the Doc's car,” Tohilda would say.

“It certainly is. I wonder if Agnes is sick. Well, it just serves her right.” That's what I thought Hazel would be saying.

Doc got my attention. “I’m serious, Griselda. She needs care that maybe you can’t give.”

Tears pooled in my eyes, and Doc took my hand. “You’ve worked hard, but it might be time now.”

Doc hustled back to Agnes, and I stole away to the kitchen and started coffee percolating. Arthur mewled for his breakfast.

“Okay, okay. It's coming.” I plopped a can of a seafood banquet in his dish and refreshed his water. “There you go.” He purred and slinked in and out of my ankles.

Doc was listening again to Agnes's chest when I got back. The blood pressure cuff, the largest one he had, was wrapped around her forearm.

“Rest and medicine,” he said. “And think about Greenbrier, Agnes.” He looked at me. Then back at her. “Griselda can’t take care of you forever.”

Her eyes grew big and her breathing heavier. Doc patted her arm. “Calm down, Agnes. You knew this day was going to come.”

Agnes closed her eyes and pushed the back of her head into the pillow. Her breaths came slower after a minute or so.

“Good,” Doc said. “I gave her a sedative. She’ll rest now.”

He pushed his stethoscope into his black bag. “Can you stay with her today?”

“Sure. Yes. I’ll be here. All day.” I looked at my sister. Her color was better and her breathing calmer, but there was still panic in her eyes.

“Anything I should know?” I asked Doc.

“Keep an eye and an ear out. Call if you need me.” He made his way to the door.

“Griselda,” he said, “I’m serious. It's time to think about Greenbrier.”

He opened the door, stood on the porch, and yawned.

“You might be right, Doc. Maybe now is the best time when people are having their doubts about Agnes.”

“That's got nothing to do with it, Griselda. It's her health I’m worried about. I don’t give a hang what people at the Full Moon are saying. And I advise you to do the same. All this miracle junk.” He practically spat.

I moved past him and sat on the wicker rocker. He sat next to me. “I’m just as guilty as all of them, Doc. I never said this before but I think I might have believed in Agnes—in the miracles, the prayers, the power—and maybe I blamed her to for Vidalia's death and Hezekiah coming to town.”

“It's time to let it go. Let her go.”

“I don’t know if I can, Doc. For so many years she was all I had, all I could care about.”

“Even if it means she’ll die, Griselda?” He patted my arm. “I used to think Agnes's prayers were a good thing. A hobby of sorts. Frankly, I still have a hard time with the so-called miracles, but dang if I can explain Stu's cancer disappearing or Cora's heart mending or even Ruth Knickerbocker's bleeding ulcer going away; but now, who knows. Maybe God is shutting that door, Griselda. It's time for Agnes to rest from all this. Time her health came first.”