Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

There were other buildings and lean-tos, large and small, scattered here and there, most of plank. One structure situated in an overhang of maple trees looked to be formed from logs chinked with mud and seemed half-buried in the earth. The cleared fields, which sloped at their ends like the curl of hair, sprang outward from the central farm buildings like spokes on a wheel. And rising high behind all of this were the Appalachians, making this good-sized farm property seem but a child’s model by comparison.

Lou was finally here, the place her father had spent much of his life writing about yet had never returned to. She drew in several quick breaths, and sat very erect as they drove on to the house, where Louisa Mae Cardinal, the woman who had helped to raise their father, awaited them.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Inside the farmhouse the nurse was advising the woman as to Amanda’s condition and other essentials, while the woman listened intently and asked pointed questions.

“And we might as well get my requirements out of the way,” said the nurse finally. “I suffer from animal and pollen allergies, and you need to make sure that their presence here is kept to a minimum. Under no circumstances should animals be allowed in the house. I have certain specific dietary needs. I will provide you with a list. I will also require a free reign in overseeing the children. I know that falls outside my formal duties, but those two obviously need discipline, and I intend to so provide it. That girl, in particular, is a real piece of work. I’m sure you can appreciate my frankness. Now you can show me to my room.”

Louisa Mae Cardinal said to the nurse, “I appreciate you coming out. Fact is, we ain’t got room for you.”

The tall nurse stood as erect as she could, but she was still shorter than Louisa Mae Cardinal. “Excuse me?” she said with indignation.

“Tell Sam out there to take you on back to the train station. Another train north be coming through. Rare place for a walk while you wait.”

“I was retained to come here and look after my patient.”

“I look after Amanda just fine.”

“You are not qualified to do so.”

“Sam and Hank, they need get on back, honey.”

“I need to call somebody about this.” The nurse was so red-faced that she looked as though she might become a patient.

“Nearest phone on down the mountain in Tremont. But you can call the president of these United States, still my home.” Louisa Mae gripped the woman’s elbow with a strength that made the nurse’s eyes flutter. “And we ain’t got to bother Amanda with this.” She guided the woman from the room, closing the door behind them.

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that you don’t have a telephone?” the nurse said.

“Don’t have that electricity thing neither, but I hear they right fine. Thank you agin, and you have a good trip back.” She placed three worn dollar bills in the nurse’s hand. “I wish it was more, honey, but it all the egg money I got.”

The nurse stared down at the cash for a moment and said, “I’m staying until I’m satisfied that my patient—”

Louisa Mae once more gripped her elbow and led her to the front door. “Most folk here got rules ’bout trespassing. Warning shot’s fired right close to the head. Get they’s attention. Next shot gets a lot more personal. Now, I’m too old to waste time firing a warning shot, and I ain’t never once used salt in my gun. And now I can’t give it no straighter’n that.”

When the Hudson pulled up, the ambulance was still parked in front of the farmhouse, which had a deep, cool porch and shadows elongating across it as the sun rose higher. Lou and Oz got out of the car and confronted their new home. It was smaller than it had appeared from a distance. And Lou noted several sets of uneven add-ons to the sides and back, all of which were set on a crumbling fieldstone base with stepstone rock leading from ground to porch. The unshingled roof had what looked to be black tar paper across it. A picket-fence railing ran along the porch, which also sagged in places. The chimney was made of hand-formed brick, and the mortar had leached over parts of it. The clapboard was in need of painting, heat pops were fairly numerous, and wood had buckled and warped in places where moisture had crawled inside.

Lou accepted it for what it clearly was: an old house, having gone through various reincarnations and situated in a place of unforgiving elements. But the front-yard grass was neatly cut, the steps, windows, and porch floor were clean, and she tallied the early bloom of flowers in glass jars and wooden buckets set along the porch rail and in window boxes. Climbing rose vines ran up the porch columns, a screen of dormant maypops covered part of the porch, and a husky vine of sleeping honeysuckle spread against one wall. There was a rough-hewn workbench on the porch with tools scattered across its surface and a split-bottom hickory chair next to it.

Brown hens started singing around their feet, and a couple of mean-looking geese came calling, sending the hens off screeching for their lives. And then a yellow-footed rooster stomped by and scared the geese off, cocked its head at Lou and Oz, gave a crow, and stomped back from whence it had come. The mare whinnied a greeting from its corral, while the pair of mules just stared at nothing. Their hairy skin was cave black, their ears and snout not quite balanced with each other. Oz took a step toward them for a better look and then retreated when one of the mules made a noise Oz had never heard before yet which clearly sounded threatening.

Lou’s and Oz’s attention shifted to the front door when it was thrown open with far more thrust than was necessary. Their mother’s nurse came clomping out. She stalked past them, her long arms and legs cocking and firing off rounds of silent fury.

“Never in all my life,” she wailed to the Appalachians. Without another word or grimace, flap of arm or kick of leg, she climbed into the ambulance, closed the doors, which made two modest thunks as metal hit metal, and the volunteer brigade beat a timid retreat. Beyond perplexed, Lou and Oz turned back to the house for answers and found themselves staring at her.

Standing in the doorway was Louisa Mae Cardinal. She was very tall, and though also very lean, she looked strong enough to strangle a bear, and determined enough to do so. Her face was leathern, the lines creasing it the etch of wood grain. Although she was approaching her eightieth year, the balls of her cheeks still rode high. The jaw was also strong, though her mouth drooped some. Her silver hair was tied with a simple cord at the nape, and then plunged to her waist.

Lou was heartened to see that she wore not a dress, but instead baggy denim trousers faded to near white and an indigo shirt patched in various places. Old brogans covered her feet. She was statue-like in her majesty, yet the woman had a remarkable pair of hazel eyes that clearly missed nothing in their range.

Lou boldly stepped forward while Oz did his best to melt into his sister’s back. “I’m Louisa Mae Cardinal. This is my brother, Oscar.” There was a tremble to Lou’s voice. She stood her ground, though, only inches from her namesake, and this proximity revealed a remarkable fact: Their profiles were almost identical. They seemed twins separated by a mere three generations.

Louisa said nothing, her gaze trailing the ambulance.

Lou noted this and said, “Wasn’t she supposed to stay and help look after our mother? She has a lot of needs, and we have to make sure that she’s comfortable.”

Her great-grandmother shifted her focus to the Hudson.

“Eugene,” Louisa Mae said in a voice possessed of negligible twang, yet which seemed undeniably southern still, “bring the bags in, honey.” Only then did she look at Lou, and though the stare was rigid, there was something prowling behind the eyes that gave Lou a reason to feel welcome. “We take good care of your mother.”