The Waltons 3 - The Easter Story (8 page)

“Oh. Then you should see Dr. Miller in Experimental Medicine. Just go out the door, turn left and keep walking. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

John-Boy followed the directions to a building that was newer than the one he had just left. In the lobby a listing of faculty members directed him to a small third-floor office where he found the door open. The man behind the desk looked huge, with muscular shoulders, disheveled hair and his necktie loosened and hanging crooked. He was only about thirty-five, John-Boy guessed, and he was scrawling notes across what looked like students’ papers. John-Boy knocked lightly.

“Sir? Do you mind if I come in?”

The man didn’t look up. “Door’s open, you can come in. Door’s shut, you can’t.”

John-Boy moved hesitantly to the desk. “My name is John Walton, sir. I’m not a student here.”

The man continued marking papers. “Well, you’re not alone, Walton. I’ve got a lot of people coming to my classes who aren’t students either.” He gave John-Boy a sharp glance. “Sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

John-Boy sat down. “I just wanted to ask you a couple questions, sir. The girl at the admissions office told me you might know something about polio.”

“She did, huh.”

“Yes, sir. And I wanted to find out if there are any new treatments, or any kind of medicine that can help somebody who’s got it.”

“Who’s got it?”

“My mother.”

The man stopped marking papers and gave him a long look. “What’s your name again?”

“Walton, sir. John Walton.”

“And you say you’re not a student here?”

“No sir. I’m still in high school. But I’d like to come here some day—if we can get the money together. I thought you might talk to me anyway. You see—”

“Where you from?”

“Walton’s Mountain. It’s a little—”

The man grinned. He tossed his pen down and sat back. “Walton’s Mountain!” He laughed. “You don’t have to tell me where that is. My wife and I drive up there every fall to see the turning leaves. Mr. Walton, I want to thank you for giving us both a great deal of pleasure.”

John-Boy relaxed a little. He’d never seen such a stern and gruff man undergo such an abrupt change. “Well, I don’t reckon I can take credit for the turnin’ leaves. But the dogwoods and red-buds’ll be bloomin’ soon. And the trees freshenin’ green. Springtime.”

“I know. I come from Crabtree Falls.”

John-Boy nodded. “Well, anyway, as I was sayin’, my mother got polio about a week ago. She’s over the fever now, but I think she’s still got a lot of pain. I mean she tries to be cheerful and hide it from us, but sometimes—”

Dr. Miller was nodding. “She’s in pain, all right. And it’s going to hurt for a long time. Tell me the details. How long did the fever last, and how much can she move now?”

John-Boy told him everything he knew, including her efforts to sit up by herself. Dr. Miller listened thoughtfully, and then John-Boy had the shock of his life.

John-Boy hadn’t noticed anything unusual when he came in. Just as Dr. Miller was a large man, so was his desk, and John-Boy had paid little attention to the chair behind it. But the doctor’s hands suddenly dropped out of sight and then he swivelled and was propelling himself around the desk in a wheelchair. John-Boy knew his mouth must have dropped open a foot.

Dr. Miller frowned curiously at him, then laughed. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

“No. I thought—I mean you were behind the desk.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Walton. I’m not.”

“But you looked so big. So strong.”

“I am strong. At least half of me is.”

In spite of the doctor’s casual attitude toward his affliction, John-Boy was still flustered. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve been scootin’ around in this little buggy for sixteen years now,” Dr. Miller smiled. “It keeps me in shape. But I know exactly what your mother’s going through. I was eighteen when it happened to me.” He laughed. “The hottest halfback on any football field in Virginia. And probably the cockiest. Then, one Saturday, after another Miller triumph, I had these strange pains in my back. Sunday I was completely paralyzed from the waist down.”

“That’s how it was with my mother.”

“That’s the pattern. And we stand by helplessly and hope for the best. What’s your mother’s doctor done so far?”

“Well, he says there isn’t any medicine. He put splints on her legs today.”

“He’s right about the medicine. And leg splints are the accepted approach. Nobody knows whether it really helps.” He smiled ruefully and rubbed his chin.

“Dr. Miller, my teacher in Walton’s Mountain, Miss Hunter, she says she read in the newspaper about a new treatment a woman has—someone called her Sister Kenny.”

“Oh, yes, the Australian nurse. We’re just starting to check into her methods. She claims an extraordinary recovery rate. But so far there’s been no scientific verification of her claims. This doesn’t mean her treatment doesn’t work, of course. Only that she hasn’t conducted them under scientific controls that would prove her claims one way or the other. She’s attracted quite a bit of controversy.”

“Is there any place I could find out more about her and the treatment?”

“Well, the fact is nobody knows a whole lot about it yet.”

“Do you know where she is in Australia? Some place I could write to her?”

Dr. Miller thought for a minute, then suddenly swung the wheelchair and moved back behind his desk. “Tell you what—you leave me your name and address. I’ll try to get hold of a couple pamphlets that detail her procedures and mail them to you. At least you can show them to your doctor and see what he thinks.”

“I’ll be endurin’ grateful to you, Doctor.”

“No trouble. We’re all in this together. I just wish I could get up there and examine her myself. You say she can sit up already?”

“Almost. She’s workin’ hard at it.”

“Mrs. Walton sounds like quite a lady.”

“She is.”

Dr. Miller smiled and stuck out a big calloused hand. “And I think you’re quite a young man, Walton. I’m glad you came in. And I’m going to look forward to seeing you around the campus here.”

John-Boy felt good when Sheriff Bridges picked him up. He knew he shouldn’t let his hopes about the Sister Kenny treatment get too high. But at least he was doing something. The worst part of the last few days had been the feeling of helplessness—that there was nothing they could do but sit by and watch their mother suffer.

And he was also pleased with what he had seen of the Boatwright College campus. He didn’t feel nearly so out of place when he came out of the medical building and crossed the campus again. Imagine that girl in the admissions office asking him if he had a date for the dance!

“What you smilin’ about, John-Boy?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just got a feelin’ things are goin’ to get better, Sheriff.”

Ep nodded. “Well, maybe you’re right. Can’t see how they can get any worse.”

John-Boy was a little disappointed not to see his father’s truck when Sheriff Bridges dropped him off at home. Grandpa and Ben had the saw going, pushing a huge log through, and Jason was sitting on a woodpile plucking his guitar.

“Hey, John-Boy,” Grandpa said, “you’re just the man we’re lookin’ for. These logs are heavy.”

John-Boy put his catalogue and brochures aside and stepped in beside Ben. “How about Jason? He don’t look so busy.”

When they finished the cut, Grandpa shut down the saw motor and sighted along the smooth edge. “Oh, we can’t expect a great musician and guitar player to risk gettin’ splinters in his fingers. No sir, Jason Walton’s done all the hard labor he’s ever gonna do in his life. So don’t anybody go askin’ him to pick up a broom or carry in any stovewood.”

They all grinned and Jason struck a loud chord on his guitar. “I’m gonna win that contest, Grandpa. Then I’ll carry all the wood you want.”

Grandpa snorted. “You win that contest and you’ll be expectin’ breakfast in bed.”

“Yeah, at ten o’clock in the mornin’,” Ben said. He smiled at John-Boy. “I got an answer from the magazine company today, John-Boy. They’re sendin’ me two dozen magazines, and they should be here tomorrow.”

“Hey, that’s great!”

“With nobody havin’ any money, don’t know who you’re goin’ to sell ’em to,” Grandpa muttered. “OK, let’s run this log through again.”

They slid the log back and made a second cut. “Where you been, John-Boy?” Grandpa asked when they finished.

John-Boy told them about his conversation with Dr. Miller, and that the man was going to send them pamphlets.

“You say this fella’s crippled himself?”

“Yes, but he got the polio twenty years ago, Grandpa. Sister Kenny’s only been doin’ her treatments a few years. And even Dr. Miller thought it was a good idea to find out what she does.”

“You mean maybe Mama can be cured and walk again?” Ben asked.

“Well, now we shouldn’t get too excited about this,” Grandpa cautioned. “And it might not be a good idea to let your mother hear about it until Dr. Vance looks at them pamphlets. I reckon you’d better talk it over with your father first, John-Boy.”

“How’s Mama feelin’?”

“She hates those splints,” Jason said.

Ben nodded. “And she’s gonna hate gettin’ in a wheelchair even more.”

“Well, those are things everybody’s just goin’ to have to face,” Grandpa said. “We can hope for some kind of miracle cure, and maybe it can even happen. But don’t forget your Mama’s havin’ a lot of pain. Let’s not encourage her to do a lot of exercises, or take treatments that are gonna make it worse for her.” Grandpa suddenly had a gravely serious look. “And there’s somethin’ else I think every one of us ought to reflect on. Nothin’ would break your mother’s heart faster than havin’ everyone expect her to come out of this all healthy and walkin’ again—and then her not doin’ it. She’d figure she let us all down.” He gave each of them a solemn look and then smiled. “Now, how about if we get this log cut up?”

Grandpa’s statement jarred John-Boy a little. He knew there was a lot of truth in it and he felt a little ashamed that he hadn’t thought things through that far. It would be terrible if she went through all kinds of tortures to please them, and then nothing happened. He resolved to be more cautious about his enthusiasms.

They had finished the timber and were cleaning up the scraps of bark when John finally got home. The truck came rattling around the dirt drive and squealed to a stop, and he swung easily down from the cab.

“Hey, Daddy, you got some new tires!”

It was the first thing John-Boy noticed. The last time he had driven the truck was when he fetched the doctor, and he had driven most of the way on a flat.

“Well, they’re not exactly new,” John said, “but for two dollars apiece they’re not bad.”

“You sell some wood, Daddy?” Jason asked.

The truck was still heaped with firewood.

“No. But I put that new part in the Claybournes’ refrigerator this afternoon.” He reached in and got a package from the cab.

John-Boy had no reason to question his father’s answer. He had fixed the Claybournes’ refrigerator, and they had paid him enough to buy new tires. It was more than a week later, when he was forced to think back to this moment, that he realized his father had not said exactly that. And everyone’s attention was quickly distracted by the package.

“What is it, Daddy?” Ben asked.

“Oh, I just got your Mama a little present to lift her spirits a little. It’s what they call a bedjacket. What you all cuttin’ up out here?”

“We got two more of them timbers ready for Halverson, John.”

“That’s fine, Pa.”

The bedjacket brought tears to Olivia’s eyes. “It’s just beautiful! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen! Where in the world did you ever get it?”

“I had it specially made in Paris, France,” John grinned. “I told ’em what you looked like and asked ’em to make somethin’ just as pretty. That’s why the color just matches your eyes.”

The jacket was blue, made from a shiny quilted material, and had white, lacy trim. More tears streamed down her cheeks as she held it out and admired it. She finally put it on, and got a big kiss from John.

“Now,” she said, “because you got me such a nice present, I’m goin’ to show you all how easy it is for me to sit up by myself.”

“Now, take it easy, Livvy,” John cautioned.

Erin had propped her up with pillows. Olivia tossed them aside and let herself drop flat to the bed. She smiled at them and began the struggle. She got an elbow beneath her. Then she swung herself halfway up, grimacing with the effort.

John-Boy held his breath, remembering Grandpa’s words about encouraging her too much. The struggle was clearly painful.

She finally managed to get the arm straightened behind her. Then, after a deep breath and a single heave, she was up. “There!” she said triumphantly.

Everyone smiled with relief.

“Well, I declare!” Grandma exclaimed.

“That’s marvelous, Mama,” Mary Ellen said.

But it was apparent how much the effort had cost. Olivia’s supporting arm began to quiver. John and Erin jumped forward and got the pillows behind her for support.

“Well,” Olivia smiled, catching her breath, “at least I did it.”

“That’s real good, daughter,” Grandpa said, “but you don’t want to be overdoin’ it.”

“I’m not overdoin’ it, Grandpa. And I’ve got to strengthen my muscles.”

“Well nobody’s expectin’ you to be walkin’ by Easter.”

Grandpa made the statement lightly, with no thought of how far off Easter was. Olivia suddenly brightened. “That’s exactly what I’m aimin’ for, Grandpa. Easter.”

“Well, now, Livvy—” John said.

“No, I’ve already decided. I want to walk to Easter sunrise services.”

“That’s only three weeks off,” Grandma said.

“Three weeks and two days,” Olivia smiled.

The announcement was a surprise to everyone. Until this minute they all assumed her ultimate objective was to learn to sit up without too much struggling. Dr. Vance had pointed out that this would be hard enough—and even dangerous. But walking, at least in his opinion, was out of the question.

“Do you have any feelin’ in your legs at all?” John asked.