The Waltons 3 - The Easter Story (5 page)

John fervently wished he could tell them all that their mother was recovering from the grippe, or even pneumonia, and she would be down in the kitchen tomorrow morning inspecting their ears and sending them off to school.

“Your mother,” he said, “is over the fever. She’s restin’ a lot easier now. And she’s feelin’ better.”

There were no smiles or sighs of relief. They waited, staring at him, knowing from the tone of his voice that there was more.

“But she’s been very sick. And—and she’s goin’ to be sick for a long time. Your mother has a very serious disease. It’s called polio.” He broke off—not certain he could go on, or if it was necessary to go on.

There was not a sound. Elizabeth frowned, glancing at the others. Erin’s mouth opened, but she quickly closed it, trembling as she stared at him.

John nodded. “It’s not likely she’ll ever be able to use her legs very much again. But how much she recovers depends a lot on us. We have to help her get as much rest as she can. And we have to help each other. Your mother will get better than she is right now. She’ll be able to get around in a—in a wheelchair. Other than that, she’ll still be the same. She’ll be just like always. She’ll still love you the way she always has.”

Erin brought her hands to her face and turned away. The others sat stunned and silent.

“I’ve never even heard of polio,” Elizabeth said bitterly.

“It’s a disease that happens mostly to children,” Jason said quietly.

Suddenly, for all of them, telling Elizabeth about the disease seemed a welcome distraction from their innermost thoughts.

“That little Marlowe girl had it,” Mary Ellen said. “Remember?”

“The one with the crutches and wires on her legs?”

“That’s right. She got it when she was four years old.”

Elizabeth looked quickly at John for confirmation. He put his hand over hers and nodded. “Polio is a children’s disease, sweetheart. But sometimes grownups have it too.”

“Like President Roosevelt,” John-Boy said.

“But—will Mama have to use crutches and have wires on her legs?”

“Well, it’s really too soon for the doctor to tell about that.”

“Daddy?” Jim-Bob asked, “You mean Mama won’t ever be able to walk again?”

“Jim-Bob,” Grandpa said, “A lot worse things can happen to people. And a lot of people have polio and do just fine. Look at Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He had polio when he was just about your mama’s age. Hasn’t stopped him none.”

“Not so’s you’d notice,” John-Boy smiled.

They all smiled. But John knew their efforts to make the best of it were artificial. Once they had time to sift through their thoughts the full import of things would come crashing down on all of them.

“Daddy?” Elizabeth finally asked, “Why did it happen to Mama?”

It was the question John dreaded the most, and he still had no answer for it. He shook his head. “To tell you the truth, I’m havin’ a little trouble understandin’ it myself.”

“God works in mysterious ways,” Grandpa said.

The statement brought no satisfaction to anyone at the table. They looked at him, but turned glumly away.

“Well,” he said and pushed his chair back, “Come on, everybody. Time we got all these chores finished up.”

Grandma came down and took some supper up for Olivia. The others ate in silence, each struggling with his own despairing thoughts. After the dishes were cleaned up, the children did homework and filed quietly upstairs. John turned off the last of the lights and found Olivia awake. He sat on the bed and smiled. “Feelin’ better?”

She nodded. “It felt good to eat somethin’.” She yawned sleepily and took his hand. “Did you get the Claybournes’ refrigerator fixed? It’s funny—that’s about the last thing I remember. It seems like months ago.”

“I got it runnin’. But I have to go back and put in a new part.”

“Did they pay you?”

She asked the question drowsily, but it jarred John’s memory. He’d completely forgotten about the envelope Stuart Lee had handed him in the car. He had shoved it into his jacket pocket, and his jacket was over on the chair by the desk.

“Yes, Stuart Lee paid me.”

“That’s good,” Olivia said, and she was suddenly sleeping again.

John rose and quietly crossed the room. That envelope could mean a couple used tires for the truck. And if Stuart Lee was as generous as his father had always been, there might even be some money left over. John found the envelope. He sat down at the desk and quickly slit it open. Then he blinked with disbelief.

It contained a single dollar bill.

John almost laughed. Stuart Lee couldn’t be serious. Mrs. Claybourne had distinctly told him to be generous with “our good neighbor.”

John sat back and stared at the creased and dirty bill. Was it possible Stuart Lee intended to pay him more when he returned to install the new part? He doubted it. Stuart Lee already had the envelope in his pocket when John told him he would have to come back.

No, John concluded. The dollar was probably all Stuart Lee intended to pay him. He sighed wearily and tossed the crumpled bill on the desk.

Erin took it the hardest,
John-Boy wrote in his notebook.
I think Mary Ellen suspected the worst all along, while Jason, Ben, and Jim-Bob did their best to follow Daddy’s example. At least outwardly, they accepted it as a tragedy that must be faced and dealt with. In Elizabeth’s case, I’m not sure she fully understands yet. At her age I guess it’s all just too mysterious and confusing.

But Erin, I think, was shattered by the news. Erin believes everything in the world should be clean and pretty, and healthy and beautiful. For her, Mama has always been the perfect example of this. Tonight, when we all went to the bedroom door and wished Mama goodnight, Erin could hardly bring herself to speak.

For Mama’s sake, I hope she’ll . . .

“John-Boy?”

John-Boy closed his notebook and found Jason, Ben, and Jim-Bob at the door, all in their pajamas. They came in and sat on the bed.

“John-Boy, we were kind of thinkin’—about Mama and everythin’. And, well—do you think Dr. Vance is a good doctor for Mama? I mean we think he probably knows everythin’ about measles and colds and broken arms, and that kind of stuff. But what Mama has is somethin’ kind of special, and maybe some other doctors know more about it.”

“Like some doctors know about heart troubles,” Ben added.

“When G. W. Haines broke his foot that time,” Jim-Bob said, “his Daddy took him all the way down to Richmond to see some kind of a special bone doctor.”

John-Boy nodded. It was a question that hadn’t occurred to him. And probably not to his father. “I don’t know. I reckon there isn’t anybody who knows a whole lot about polio. At least that’s what Dr. Vance told Daddy.”

“But we could try, John-Boy. There might be some doctor in Charlottesville or Richmond who knows more than Dr. Vance. Maybe Daddy could go get ’em and bring ’em up here—at least to look at Mama.”

John-Boy knew it wouldn’t be as easy as that. Doctors who were specialists were probably very busy—and very expensive. His father already had money problems. “I don’t know,” he said again. “If there were any medicine or treatment for people with polio, I reckon Dr. Vance would have heard about it.”

Their disappointment made John-Boy wish he hadn’t sounded so negative. “But I guess it’s somethin’ we ought to think about.”

“Maybe we could ask G. W. where his Daddy took him,” Jim-Bob suggested.

John-Boy nodded and changed the subject. “How’s Erin and the girls takin’ everythin’?”

Jason shook his head. “Erin’s been cryin’ ever since she went to bed.”

“She doesn’t even want to see Mama tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“She’s afraid Mama’s gonna be all twisted and ugly and in pain.”

John-Boy winced at the description. When he brought the doctor up earlier this evening he had only glimpsed his mother. But she certainly hadn’t looked that bad.

“And Elizabeth is sucking her thumb again,” Ben said. “Mary Ellen screamed at us and told us to get out of their room.”

“What were you doin’ in their room?”

Ben shrugged and they all gazed despairingly at him. My God, John-Boy thought—that’s all they needed around the house right now: the kids all fighting or crying, and Elizabeth sucking her thumb again. It had been years since she did that. “Are they asleep?”

“No. Not when we left.”

“Listen,” John-Boy said, “Mama’s bein’ sick isn’t goin’ to be the end of the world for us. She’s still goin’ to be here, and she’s still goin’ to be the same person she always was. But she’s gonna need help from all of us. And Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa are gonna need help too. So let’s not make the problem worse. Let’s help ’em.”

John-Boy wasn’t sure if he impressed them with the urgency of the matter. But they all nodded.

“We’ll help, John-Boy.”

“Then you’d better go get some sleep. And I’ll talk to the girls.”

John-Boy waited until they were back in their bedroom, then knocked lightly and opened the girl’s door. “Mary Ellen? Can I come in?”

He could hear Erin’s muffled sobbing. Elizabeth seemed to be curled into a tiny ball, and Mary Ellen was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. She glanced over, but said nothing. John-Boy closed the door and eased down on the edge of Erin’s bed.

“I saw Mama today. Just for a minute, from the door.”

Erin’s sobbing stopped. She seemed to be holding her breath, scared to death of what was coming next.

“She looked fine. She hardly looked sick at all.” He gave her a minute to absorb this. “She was just sittin’ there, propped up in bed, smilin’—talkin’ to Grandma.”

Erin turned over and stared hard at him. Her face was streaked with tears.

John-Boy smiled. “I reckon when someone gets real sick we expect ’em to look different, or be a different person. But the only thing different about Mama will be her legs. At least for a while she won’t be able to walk.”

Erin clamped her eyes shut. “She’ll never be able to walk.”

“Well, that might be, Erin. But the important things won’t be changed—things like how she feels about us, and how we feel about her. And I reckon it’s important to her that we don’t change. I guess about the most valuable thing she has is our love for her. If we don’t keep given’ it to her, I reckon that’ll be a lot worse for her than not bein’ able to walk.”

Erin gazed silently at him for a long time. Then the tears suddenly flooded back and she turned quickly away, “Oh, John-Boy, I’m so ashamed.”

John-Boy put his hand on her shoulder and let her cry for a minute. “No cause to be ashamed. It’s natural wantin’ people we care about to stay the same.” He shook her gently. “Come on, Erin. We’re all of us mixed up and scared. It’s gonna be better tomorrow. We’re goin’ to do the best we can, and we’re goin’ to show Mama how much we really love her.”

Erin nodded and sniffled back the tears.

Mary Ellen and Elizabeth had both turned to listen. Elizabeth took her thumb from her mouth and buried it deep under the covers. John-Boy smiled at her and moved toward the door.

“Now let’s all get some sleep.”

“John-Boy?” Mary Ellen murmured.

He paused at the door.

“Thanks,” she said.

III

T
heir first visit with their mother had all the characteristics of a homecoming party. Through the afternoon, all seven of them impatiently watched the clock on the classroom wall. When Miss Hunter finally dismissed them they bolted for the door and headed home at a half run.

At the house Grandma helped Olivia change into her prettiest nightgown and then cleaned up the room while Olivia brushed her hair. Following Grandma’s instructions, Grandpa made sugar cookies and a pitcher of lemonade while John washed the bedroom windows. When the thunder of footsteps hit the back porch and roared up the stairs, Olivia was ready and waiting.

They each got a hug and a kiss and a beaming smile. Then they sat on the floor or at the foot of the bed and Grandpa served the refreshments. If anything, it seemed that Olivia was more lighthearted than they had ever seen her. Elizabeth said she was going to learn to cook, and Jim-Bob said he already had plans to enlarge her vegetable garden. Olivia laughed and said that maybe she should have gotten sick a long time ago.

There were no longer any doubts or fears. Olivia was still their mother, and she was as warm and loving, and as dependably strong as ever.

After forty-five minutes John rose and shooed everyone out with a grin. If they all had such wonderful plans, he said, they’d better get started with them before they wore themselves out talking. And they had chores and homework to do before suppertime.

In the days that followed, John-Boy didn’t at first fully appreciate what his mother was doing. But it soon became clear that she was going to permit no one to waste time brooding, or feeling sorry for her. And she was going to insure against it by encouraging each of them to think about and plan their own futures.

Before they all went off to school each day, they gathered in her bedroom. Smiling cheerfully, she asked each about his studies, or his homework, or their classmates. Sometimes she gently admonished them to apply themselves more, and to their inquiries about how she was feeling, she laughed and observed that it wasn’t fair for everyone to be working so hard while she lolled around in bed all day.

When they arrived home from school she was in the same cheerful mood, and talked to them individually.

“John-Boy, I hope you’ve been given some thought to what you’re goin’ to be takin’ in college next year. You’ll be graduatin’ pretty soon, and you should be prepared. I been thinkin’ about it all afternoon, picturin’ you on campus.”

Even before his mother’s illness John-Boy had grave doubts about ever going to college. Now, with all the medical expenses, it seemed like his chances were even more remote. He smiled. “You mean in my porkpie hat and raccoon coat?”

“No. What you wear doesn’t concern me as much as what you’ll be learnin’—what classes you’ll take.”

“I’m not sure, Mama. And I reckon it’s pretty hard to pass the entrance exams anyway.”