Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

“It sure is pretty here in . . .” Oz looked at Lou.

“Virginia,” Lou answered, without turning around.

“Virginia,” Oz repeated. Then he took out the necklace.

From the doorway, Louisa watched this exchange.

Lou turned and saw what he was doing. “Oz, that stupid necklace doesn’t work.”

“So why’d you get it back for me then?” he said sharply.

This stopped Lou dead, for she had no ready answer. Oz turned back and began his ritual over Amanda. But with each swing of the quartz crystal, with each softly spoken utterance by Oz, Lou just knew he was trying to melt an iceberg with a single match; and she wanted no part of it. She raced past her great-grandmother and down the hall.

Louisa stepped into the room and sat down next to Oz. “What’s that for, Oz?” she asked, pointing to the jewelry.

Oz cupped the necklace in his hand, eyed it closely, like it was a timepiece and he was checking what o’clock it was. “Friend told me about it. Supposed to help Mom. Lou doesn’t believe it will.” He paused. “Don’t know if I do either.”

Louisa ran a hand through his hair. “Some say believing a person get better is half the battle. I’m one who subscribes to that notion.”

Fortunately, with Oz, a few seconds of despair were usually followed by replenished hope. He took the necklace and slid it under his mother’s mattress. “Maybe it’ll keep oozing its power this way. She’ll get well, won’t she?”

Louisa stared at the little boy, and then at his mother lying so still there. She touched Oz’s cheek with her hand—very old against very new skin, and its mix seemed pleasing to both. “You keep right on believing, Oz. Don’t you never stop believing.”

CHAPTER TEN

The kitchen shelves were worn, knotholed pine, floors the same. The floorboards creaked slightly as Oz swept with a shorthandled broom, while Lou loaded lengths of cut wood into the iron belly of the Sears catalogue cookstove that took up one wall of the small room. Fading sunlight came through the window and also peered through each wall crevice, and there were many. An old coal-oil lamp hung from a peg. Fat black iron kettles hung from the wall. In another corner was a food safe with hammered metal doors; a string of dried onions lay atop it and a glass jug of kerosene next to that.

As Lou examined each piece of hickory or oak, it was as though she was revisiting each facet of her prior life, before throwing it in the fire, saying good-bye as the flames ate it away. The room was dark and the smells of damp and burnt wood equally pungent. Lou stared over at the fireplace. The opening was large, and she guessed that the cooking had been done there before the Sears cookstove had come. The brick ran to the ceiling, and iron nails were driven through the mortar all over; tools and kettles, and odd pieces of other things Lou couldn’t identify but that looked well-used, hung from them. In the center of the brick wall was a long rifle resting on twin braces angled into the mortar.

The knock on the door startled them both. Who would expect visitors so far above sea level? Lou opened the door and Diamond Skinner stared back at her with a vast smile. He held up a mess of smallmouth bass, as though he was offering her the crowns of dead kings. Loyal Jeb was beside him, his snout wrinkling as he drew in the fine fishy aroma.

Louisa came striding in from outside, her brow glistening with sweat, her gloved hands coated with rich dirt, as were her brogans. She slipped off her gloves and dabbed at her face with a sweat rag pulled from her pocket. Her long hair was pulled up under a cloth scarf, wisps of silver peeking out in spots.

“Well, Diamond, I believe that’s the nicest mess of smallmouth I ever seen, son.” She gave Jeb a pat. “How you doing, Mr. Jeb? You help Diamond catch all them fish?”

Diamond’s grin was so wide Lou could almost count all his teeth. “Yes’m. Did Hell No—”

Louisa held up a finger and politely but firmly corrected, “Eugene.”

Diamond looked down, collecting himself after this blunder. “Yes’m, sorry. Did Eugene tell you—”

“That you’d be bringing supper? Yes. And you’ll be staying for it seeing you caught it. And get to know Lou and Oz here. Sure y’all be good friends.”

“We’ve already met,” Lou said stiffly.

Louisa looked between her and Diamond. “Well, that’s right good. Diamond and you close in years. And be good for Oz to have another boy round.”

“He’s got me,” Lou said bluntly.

“Yes, he does,” Louisa agreed. “Well, Diamond, you gonna stay for meal?”

He considered the matter. “I ain’t got me no more ’pointments today, so yep, I set myself down.” Diamond glanced at Lou, and then he wiped at his dirty face and attempted to tug down one of a dozen cowlicks. Lou had turned away, however, completely unaware of his effort.

The table was set with Depression glass plates and cups, collected over the years by Louisa, she told them, from Crystal Winter oatmeal boxes. The dishes were green, pink, blue, amber, and rose. However pretty they might be, no one was really focusing on the dishes. Instead, tin fork and knife clashed as they all dug into the meal. When Louisa had said the meal prayer, Lou and Oz crossed themselves, while Diamond and Eugene looked on curiously but said nothing. Jeb lay in the corner, surprisingly patient with his portion. Eugene sat at one end of the table, methodically chewing his food. Oz absorbed his entire meal so fast Lou seriously considered checking to make sure his fork had not disappeared down his throat. Louisa dished Oz the last piece of lard-fried fish, the rest of the cooked vegetables, and another piece of cooked-in-grease cornbread, which, to Lou, tasted better than ice cream.

Louisa had not filled her plate.

“You didn’t have any fish, Louisa,” Oz said, as he stared guiltily at his second helping. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Meal by itself seeing a boy eating his way up to a growed man. Et while I cooked, honey. Always do.”

Eugene glanced questioningly at Louisa when she said this and then went back to his meal.

Diamond’s gaze kept sliding between Lou and Oz. He seemed eager to make friends again, yet seemed unsure how to accomplish it.

“Can you show me some of the places my dad would go around here?” Lou asked Louisa. “The things he liked to do? See, I’m a writer too.”

“I know that,” she said, and Lou gave her a surprised look. Louisa put her cup of water down and studied Lou’s face. “Your daddy he like to tell ’bout the land. But afore he done that he done something real smart.” She paused as Lou considered this.

“Like what?” the girl finally asked.

“He come to unnerstand the land.”

“Understand . . . dirt?”

“It got lots of secrets, and not all good ones. Things up here hurt you bad if you ain’t careful. Weather so fickle, like it break your heart ’bout the time it do your back. Land don’t help none who don’t never bother to learn it.” On this she glanced at Eugene. “Lord knows Eugene could use help. This farm ain’t going one minute more without his strong back.”

Eugene swallowed a piece of fish and washed it down with a gulp of water he had poured directly into his glass from a bucket. As Lou watched him, Eugene’s mouth trembled. She interpreted that as a big smile.

“Fact is,” Louisa continued, “you and Oz coming here is a blessing. Some folk might say I helping you out, but that ain’t the truth. You helping me a lot more’n I can you. For that I thank you.”

“Sure,” said Oz gallantly. “Glad to do it.”

“You mentioned there were chores,” Lou said.

Louisa looked over at Eugene. “Better to show, not tell. Come morning, I commence showing.”