Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

“Now git yourself gone, George,” said Louisa.

Davis glared at her. “Next time, my gun don’t miss.”

He turned mules and wagon around and left in a whirl of dust. Lou stared at Louisa, who held the rifle on Davis until the man was out of sight. “Would you really have shot him?” she asked.

Louisa uncocked the rifle and went inside without answering the question.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Lou was cleaning up the supper dishes two nights later while Oz carefully wrote out his letters on a piece of paper at the kitchen table. Louisa sat next to him, helping. She looked tired, Lou thought. She was old, and life up here wasn’t easy; Lou had certainly experienced that firsthand. One had to fight for each little thing. And Louisa had been doing this all her life. How much longer could she?

By the time Lou had dried the last plate, there came a knock on the door. Oz ran to open it.

Cotton was standing at the front door, wearing his suit and tie, a large box cradled in his arms. Behind him was Diamond. The boy was dressed in a clean white shirt, face scrubbed, hair pounded down with water and maybe sticky sap, and Lou almost gasped, because the boy was wearing shoes . It was true she could see his toes, but still most of the boy’s feet were covered. Diamond nodded shyly to all, as though being scrubbed and shod made him a circus spectacle of sorts.

Oz eyed the box. “What’s in there?”

Cotton set the box on the table and took his time opening it. “While there is much to be said for the written word,” he told them, “we must never forget that other great creative body of work.” With a flourish to rival the best of vaudeville performances, he unveiled the gramophone.

“Music!”

Cotton took a record out of a slipcase and carefully placed it on the gramophone. Then he vigorously turned the crank and set the needle in place. It scratched the wobbly record for a moment, and then the room was filled with what Lou recognized as the music of Beethoven. Cotton looked around the room and then moved a chair against the wall. He motioned to the other men. “Gentlemen, if you please.” Oz, Diamond, and Eugene pitched in, and they soon had an open space in the middle of the room.

Cotton went down the hallway and opened Amanda’s door. “Miss Amanda, we have a variety of popular tunes for your listening pleasure tonight.”

Cotton came back to the front room.

“Why did you move the furniture?” Lou asked.

Cotton smiled and removed his suit coat. “Because you can’t simply listen to music, you must become one with it.” He bowed deeply to Lou. “May I have this dance, ma’am?”

Lou found herself blushing at this formal invitation. “Cotton, you’re crazy, you really are.”

Oz said, “Go ahead, Lou, you’re a good dancer.” He added, “Mom taught her.”

And they danced. Awkwardly at first, but then they picked up their pace and soon were spinning around the room. All smiled at the pair, and Lou found herself giggling.

Overcome with excitement, as he so often was, Oz ran to his mother’s room. “Mom, we’re dancing, we’re dancing.” And then he raced back to see some more.

Louisa was moving her hands to the music, and her foot was tapping against the floor. Diamond came up.

“Care to stroll the floor, Miss Louisa?”

She took his hands. “Best offer I had me in years.”

As they joined Lou and Cotton, Eugene stood Oz on the tops of his shoes, and they clomped around with the others.

The music and laughter drifted down the hall and into Amanda’s room. Since they had been here, winter had turned to spring and spring had given way to summer. And during all that time, Amanda’s condition had not changed. Lou interpreted that as positive proof that her mother would never rejoin them, while Oz, ever the optimist, saw it as a good thing, because his mother’s condition had not become any worse. Despite her bleak opinion of her mother’s future, Lou helped Louisa sponge-bathe Amanda every day and also wash her hair once a week. And both Lou and Oz changed their mother’s resting positions frequently and exercised her arms and legs daily. Yet there was never any reaction from their mother; she was just there, eyes closed, limbs motionless. She was not “dead,” but what her mother was could surely not be called “living” either, Lou had often thought. However, something was a little odd now with the music and laughter filtering into her room. Perhaps if it was possible to smile without moving one facial muscle, Amanda Cardinal had just accomplished it.

Back in the front room a few records later, the music had changed to tunes designed to make one kick up his heels. The partners had also changed: Lou and Diamond jumped and spun with youthful energy; Cotton twirled Oz; and Eugene—bad leg and all—and Louisa were doing a modest jitterbug.

Cotton left the dance floor after a while and went to Amanda’s bedroom and sat next to her. He spoke to her very quietly, relaying news of the day, how the children were doing, the next book he intended to read to her. All just normal conversation, really, and Cotton hoping that she could hear him and be encouraged by it. “I have enjoyed the letters you wrote to Louisa immensely. Your words show a beautiful spirit. However, I look forward to getting to know you personally, Amanda.” He took her hands very gently and moved them slowly to the music.

The sounds drifted outside, and the light spilled into the darkness. For one stolen moment, all in the house seemed happy and secure.

The small coal mine on Louisa’s land was about two miles from the house. There was a matted-down path leading to it, and that connected with a dirt road that snaked back to the farm. The opening of the mine was broad and tall enough for sled and mule to enter easily, which they did each year to bring out coal for the winter’s heat. With the moon now shielded by high clouds, the entrance to the mine was invisible to the naked eye.

Off in the distance there was a wink of light, like a firefly. Then came another flash and then another. Slowly the group of men emerged from the darkness and came toward the mine, the blinks of light now revealed as lit kerosene lamps. The men wore hard hats with carbide lamps strapped to them. In preparation for entering the mine, each man took off his hat, filled the lamp pouch with moistened carbide pellets, turned the handle, which adjusted the wick, struck a match, and a dozen lamps together ignited.

A man bigger than all the others called the workers around, and they formed a tight huddle. His name was Judd Wheeler, and he had been exploring dirt and rock looking for things of value most of his adult life. In one big hand he held a long roll of paper which he spread open, and one of the men shone a lantern upon it. The paper held detailed markings, writing and drawings. The caption on the paper was printed boldly across the top: “Southern Valley Coal and Gas Geological Survey.”

As Wheeler instructed his men on tonight’s duties, from out of the darkness another man joined them. He wore the same felt hat and old clothes. George Davis also held a kerosene lamp and appeared quite excited at all the activity. Davis spoke animatedly with Wheeler for a few minutes, and then they all headed inside the mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Lou woke early the next morning. The sounds of music had stayed with her through the night, and her dreams had been pleasant ones. She stretched, gingerly touched the floor, and went to look out the window. The sun had already begun its rise and she knew she had to get to the barn to milk, a task she had rapidly taken as her own, for she had grown to like the coolness of the barn in the morning, and also the smell of the cows and the hay. She would sometimes climb to the loft, push open the hay doors, and sit on the edge there, gazing out at the land from her high perch, listening to the sounds of birds and small animals darting through trees, crop field, and high grass and catching the breeze that always seemed to be there.