The Waltons 3 - The Easter Story (13 page)

“We’ll be careful,” John said.

The doctor appeared ill at ease, as if not sure what else to say. He finally turned for the door. “Well, I’ll be back to see you. And if you have any complications be sure and call.”

“Dr. Vance?” Olivia said.

He paused at the door.

“Thank you very much.”

A grin suddenly came to his face, but he waved and turned quickly away. “You’re all busy—I’ll see myself out.”

There were a number of visitors during the week. But most of them came while John-Boy and the rest of the children were in school. The only evidence of their calls were delicious casseroles and desserts, along with fresh cut flowers or small gifts in their mother’s room.

But the Baldwin sisters came late in the afternoon. John-Boy, Ben, and Jason were stacking wood when they heard the big Franklin car come grinding around the side of the house. It was going far too fast, and they all gasped as it swerved, narrowly missing the truck, and then came to a sliding stop with Miss Emily smiling happily from behind the wheel.

“Hello, John-Boy, Jason. And Benjamin! Oh, we’re happy to see you’re here.”

Miss Mamie got out from the other side. “You didn’t tell anybody about our secret, did you, Benjamin?”

Ben had completely forgotten about the Baldwin sisters’ secret gift for his mother. “No, ma’am, I didn’t tell a soul.”

Miss Mamie was out of the car too. “I told you he wouldn’t tell, sister. And Ben, we just can’t say how much we’ve enjoyed all our magazines.”

“Read every word, and just loved them.”

Ben nodded. “I reckon the next issues’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Oh, I just can’t wait! But right now we’ve got just the most excitin’ news. Our surprise for your mother, came just today, and we’ve just come from pickin’ it up at Mr. Godsey’s store!”

“I know she’s just goin’ to love it,” Miss Emily bubbled. “And you big strong boys can help us carry it in. We’ve got it right here in the trunk of the car.”

John-Boy smiled and they all moved to the back of the car. He couldn’t imagine what could be so big it would require all three of them to carry it in. When they opened the trunk and he saw it, John-Boy paled. Beside him, both Ben and Jason stopped short and stared.

It was a wheelchair.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Miss Emily exclaimed. “It’s the very finest they had in the whole catalogue.”

“We got the catalogue from the Richmond Surgical Supply Company,” Miss Emily added. “Dr. Vance assured us it is a most reliable establishment.”

John-Boy didn’t know what to say. His brothers looked as sick as he felt.

“Dr. Vance?” he murmured.

“Oh, yes. We talked to him the minute we heard about your poor mother’s affliction.”

The statement relieved John-Boy a little. At least Dr, Vance had recommended it before his last visit. But he wondered about his mother’s reaction. “Ben, maybe you—uh, ought to go get Grandpa to help us.”

“Grandpa?”

John-Boy gave him a pleading look. “Yeah. I think he’s in the kitchen.” It was not Grandpa he wanted, but someone to warn everybody in the house about what was coming.

Ben blinked at him and finally understood. “Oh, yeah, Grandpa. Yeah, I’ll get him.”

The Baldwin sisters went on about all the special features of the wheelchair, and John-Boy took his time untying the cord that was securing it in the car’s trunk.

“It sure looks nice,” he said. “Jason, you want to get that side of it?”

It was a collapsible model, much like the one Dr. Miller had used. Jason still seemed to be in a state of shock, but they got the thing out. They had it open when Grandpa finally came.

Apparently Ben had passed on the news. Grandpa displayed no surprise, grinning all the way from the door.

“Well, well, well, what a pleasant surprise, havin’ two lovely ladies come a-visitin’. And look at that! Isn’t that somethin’! Why, I don’t think I ever saw such a beautiful wheelchair in all my life!”

“Isn’t it, though,” Miss Emily agreed. “Why it just makes you want to sit down in it and never take another step for the rest of your life!”

“Emily!” Miss Mamie gasped, “that’s just a terrible thing to say. Don’t you dare say such a thing to poor Mrs. Walton.”

Miss Emily looked hurt. “I just meant—I’m terribly sorry if—did I say the wrong thing, Mr. Walton?”

“Of course you did!” Miss Mamie exclaimed.

Grandpa brushed it aside. “All with the best of intentions, Miss Emily. Don’t give it another thought.”

Miss Emily gave her sister a haughty look and smiled at Grandpa. “Thank you, Mr. Walton.”

“Now, let’s get this on into the kitchen, ladies. I sent Ben upstairs to see if Livvy’s awake.”

“I do hope she’s not sleepin’,” Miss Emily sighed, “I’m just dyin’ to see the look on her face when she sees it.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s sleepin’,” Jason mumbled.

Because of their “recipe” making activities, and their infrequent appearances in church, Grandma had never been too fond of the Baldwin sisters. It was her belief that their not having husbands was a deprivation clearly arranged by the Lord himself. But she managed a smile when they came in the kitchen.

“How nice to see you, ladies. And isn’t that a nice gift for Olivia.”

Her icy tone was lost on the ladies. “Oh, we’re so happy you like it, Mrs. Walton,” Miss Mamie gushed.

“We think Mrs. Walton’ll just be thrilled,” Miss Emily added.

“I’m sure.”

Ben arrived with a wooden smile. “Mama’s awake and said she would like to see you ladies very much.”

“You didn’t tell her about our surprise, did you, Benajmin?”

Ben glanced at Grandpa who was holding a steady smile. “Uh—no. She’s real anxious to see you. She’s real glad you came.”

“Isn’t that sweet, Emily? I declare we really should come a-callin’ more often. And you should call on us some time, Mrs. Walton.”

Grandma nodded, her tolerance fading.

“Well, I reckon we can go on up,” Grandpa said and pushed the wheelchair forward.

“I do wish we had gotten a big ribbon for it,” Miss Emily sighed.

John-Boy couldn’t help admiring the self control his mother displayed. After her determined resolve to get back on her feet, and all the painful effort she had committed herself to, the presentation of a wheelchair must have been a bitter experience. It was like a prizefighter being presented with the loser’s trophy just before the fight began. It made John-Boy wish the treatments of the last week had shown some evidence of progress.

John-Boy’s father greeted the ladies warmly. Standing by the head of the bed, Erin smiled, and Olivia even managed to show some surprise when the chrome and leather chair was wheeled in.

“I just don’t know how you’re goin’ to get down the stairs,” Miss Mamie said after they were seated. “But I’m sure these strong Walton men can carry you down to the wheelchair.”

“Yes,” Olivia smiled.

“And sister, isn’t it just wonderful how Mrs. Walton is acceptin’ her misfortune? Why, I declare, most people would just be feelin’ so sorry for themselves! But here she is just makin’ the best of everythin’, just as happy and cheerful as can be.”

“I was just readin’ yesterday in one of those magazines your Benjamin was so kind to let us purchase, that handicapped people in Des Moines, Iowa, do the most wonderful handicraft work. Was it Des Moines, Mamie?”

“I believe it was Davenport, sister.”

“Well, no matter. They make baskets and the most lovely little potholders. And just imagine all the knittin’ you can do, Mrs. Walton. Why, I declare, the whole Walton family can have the nicest new sweaters and stockin’s!”

John-Boy looked anxiously at his mother. The smile was still fixed on her face, but her eyes seemed to have dulled. He didn’t guess she could take a whole lot more of this.

“ ‘God’s ways seem dark,’ ” Miss Mamie quoted with a sigh, “ ‘but soon or late, They touch the shinin’ hills of day.’ ”

“That’s beautiful,” Olivia said.

“Mr. John Greenleaf Whittier. One of our most neglected poets. He’s one of our favorites.”

They all nodded. John finally cleared his throat. “Ladies, it was real nice of you to come a-callin’. I reckon it’s about time for Livvy’s rest now.”

They quickly rose. “Yes, and we must be goin’.”

“It was such a pleasure seein’ you, Mrs. Walton. And we do hope you’ll be feelin’ up to usin’ your new wheelchair soon.”

Olivia mustered a final smile. “Thank you very much for the gift. It was very thoughtful of you. You’re the best possible friends and neighbors.”

Grandpa saw them out.

Until they heard the door close and the Baldwins’ car finally start up, everyone in the bedroom sat in glum, reflective silence. Then John-Boy watched his mother as she gazed at the glistening wheelchair. It was the fate Dr. Vance had predicted for her, and the one she was no doubt wondering about right now.

“They meant well, Livvy,” John finally said.

She nodded. “They’re really very sweet old ladies.” She struggled to sit up straighter in the bed. “It’s all right,” she said and gave a short laugh. “But I do wish somebody would get that silly thing out of here.” Her smile suddenly became an amused grin. “Put it with the splints.”

VII

T
he Biloxi Theater didn’t look like much. The bricks were crumbling, and half the lightbulbs around the big marquee had been shattered a long time ago. Even the letters, which had been recently put in place, were a variety of sizes. They said: GIANT AMATEUR CONTEST.

John-Boy and Jason had looked at them for a while and then moved closer to read the printed poster mounted in the glass-covered case.

GIANT AMATEUR CONTEST
Saturday, March 24

Starring Radio’s Greatest Talent Discoverer

OSGOOD TENNYSON

Exceptional Prizes!

First Prize:
Professional Guitar
Second Prize:
Complete Set of Fine China
Third Prize:
Miniature Golf Set

AUDITIONS NOW BEING HELD

Jason looked apprehensively past the empty box office to the darkened glass doors inside. “I don’t know, John-Boy.”

“You’ll do fine. What’re you worried about?”

“I’m not worried. It’s just that—I mean it doesn’t even look like anybody’s here.”

“They’re probably around back, through the stage door.”

Jason’s nervousness had begun the minute they climbed into the truck and headed for Charlottesville. It had been a struggle getting him to go at all.

At first their father had intended going only as far as Ike’s to do the shopping. Grandma needed some stew-beef, and Mary Ellen wanted ribbon for the finishing touches of her dress. Then Jim-Bob and Elizabeth asked to go along so they could get something for their mother, and John decided to go on to Charlottesville. He knew a place were they could buy a perfect present for Olivia.

Then John-Boy had joined them, and with a great deal of prodding they convinced Jason that he should bring his guitar along and try out for the amateur contest.

Jason thought it was too soon—that they probably weren’t even having tryouts yet. And he really hadn’t worked out the song he was going to play.

“John-Boy,” he said now, “you know, playin’ for the family is one thing. But playin’ for somebody like Osgood Tennyson—well, you know he’s used to hearin’ the best.”

“You’re one of the best. Come on.”

“There’s probably a hundred guitar players already tryin’ out. They’re probably twice as good as I am.”

“Don’t you want to go in and find out?”

“Well, sure I do. Sort of. But I sort of don’t, too.”

John-Boy knew exactly how he felt. Standing up in front of a professional entertainer who broadcast a radio show to millions of people every week was likely to make anyone nervous. But he also knew Jason was very good. John-Boy shrugged. “Well, I reckon we can just wait out here for Daddy to pick us up again. Probably be a good idea not to mention all this to Mama, though.”

John-Boy moved out to the curb and looked up the street as if searching for their father. He knew it was a little unfair mentioning their mother. But it was for her that Jason had started practicing the guitar in the first place.

“John-Boy?”

“Un-huh.”

“Listen. As long as we’re here—I reckon we might as well go on in.”

“You sure you want to?”

“Yeah—well, yes. Yes, I want to do it, John-Boy.”

John-Boy expected the stage to be all lit up, with dozens of hopeful contestants waiting to audition. But the place was deathly silent—as dark and cold as a tomb. Once their eyes adjusted, they made their way to the empty stage.

“Guess nobody’s here,” Jason said and turned back.

“Wait a minute. Let’s try the other side.”

When they reached the far side of the stage, Jason suddenly disappeared in the darkness. His guitar clattered to the floor.

“You all right?”

“I reckon.” Jason picked himself up and retrieved the instrument. “Guess I tripped over some ropes.”

“Hey! What’re you kids doing back here?”

The voice was gruff and came from somewhere in the dim light ahead. They moved cautiously forward. An office door was open and a stocky little man was standing in front of it.

“Mr. Tennyson?”

“No. Whadya want?”

The man had garters on his shirtsleeves and the stump of an unlighted cigar was clamped in the corner of his mouth.

“We were lookin’ for the place to audition for the amateur show.”

The man looked them over and gestured irritably toward the office. “OK. In here.”

The office looked worse than the rest of the building. Faded posters were tacked crookedly on the walls. Newspapers were scattered around, and a paper plate full of half eaten spareribs rested on a desk. Everything except the ribs was thick with dust.

“Where’s Mr. Tennyson?” Jason asked.

The man sat down and took a bite from a rib. “He ain’t here. Won’t hit town till the day of the show.”

“Oh.”

“I’m Snyder, his advance man. What’s your specialty?”

“Specialty?”

“Yeah.” The man waved the rib impatiently. “You juggle—tap-dance—imitate Laurel and Hardy? What’s your gimmick?”