Chapter Five Out of My Way

Chapter Five    Out of My Way  Ruth

A half a dozen friends and neighbors sat in a circle around the fire. Mother and I waited in silence. I’d heard Miss Myrtle whisper, “It was a deathwatch.” I tried not to let her wickedness pester me.

Mrs. Anders asked me why we were out in the storm. I didn’t lie, although I’d considered it.

“We left Suzanna’s doll, Sally, up in the oak tree next to the diner,” I said. 

“You mean the one that blew down in the storm?” She asked. 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I dragged my sister out in the storm to get her doll, Sally. She told me not to go, but I was too stubborn. Suzanna went with me to get the doll because she didn’t want me out alone in the storm.”

Mrs. Anders sighed.

Ol’ Miss Myrtle, was eavesdropping on our conversation, and didn’t hesitate to offer her opinion. “What in the world were you thinkin’ ’bout going out in a storm, the likes of what we saw last night? Do you know chil’ what you’ve done? And don’t you be bawlin’. This is all your fault. In all my years, I never saw anything so reckless.”

Mother put an arm around my shoulders and took the reins.

“Myrtle Graves,” Mother looked directly at her. Her voice was slow, steady, and deliberate, her eyes steely. “It was an accident. A poor decision, but what is done is done, and there ain’t no goin’ back. That’s all we need to say about that.” 

“I’m sure everything is gonna be alright,” Mother said, patting my knee.

Miss Myrtle shrugged her shoulder and turned her eyes away from Mother’s stare.

“At least she had nothing to do with that drifter, Mr. Hopper being lost.” Miss Myrtle said. “Anyone found him yet?”

“Not that I know of,” Mrs. Anders said.

I twirled a stick in the mud, afraid to raise my eyes. If my family was found dead, I’d deserved Miss Myrtle’s scorn. 

➰

Early sunlight bounced off the swollen waters. Fisherman Jed was heading out again, equipped with our prayers and wishes that he would find Father and Suzanna.

“If anyone can find them, you can.” Mother had said while she laid her hand on his shoulder and bowed her head.

“I pray God gives you the power and the wisdom

to find my beloved family and any others that maybe lost or injured.

Please Lord keep Mr. Jed safe.”

“Amen.”

“Hump.” 

➰

I’d been on the bank of the flooded area for upwards of an hour when we heard a shout from upriver. Juan and Mateo directed their craft toward us with a yip and holler.

“Get the Doc! He’s alive.”

The body of a man lay prone on the deck. I knew it was Father.

“Out of my way!” Mother yelled. She waded into the stream, and her skirt billowed in the water. Men pushed past her and pulled the craft to shore. Someone held my elbow to keep me from rushing forward. Once the raft was on land, Mother’s knees sank into the mud, kneeling beside Father. She placed her head on his chest. “I can hear his heart! I can hear it!” 

Not daring to lift Father, they covered him with a serape. I’d never noticed he was so tall. His boot-clad feet extended beyond the length of the blanket and rested on the rocks.

Doc Murphy arrived panting, dressed in his usual black suit. His habitually shiny cowboy boots were covered in mud. One hand clutched his hat, and the other his medical bag.

“Move away, Bess. Let me examine him,” Doc said. He bent over Father, leaning in on one knee. The Doc pulled his stethoscope from his bag and listened for a heartbeat. “He’s breathing. His heart’s strong. He’s had a shock. But, he’ll recover.”

He examined my father more closely, unbuttoning his coat and shirt to expose his chest. A few scrapes and bruises marked his body, but none were bleeding. Father moaned Suzanna’s name as Doc turned him over, and we saw an angry blue-black bruise blooming on his back. 

The Doc directed some men to get a stretcher he had brought down earlier that morning. Gingerly, they transferred Father onto the canvas-covered frame.

Señora Teresa exclaimed, “Gracias a Dios!” She hugged me tight. Is he okay? Virgin Santa!

“Let’s get him up to the house,” Doc said. “Bess, come with us. We need to get these wet things off him. I figure he has a broken rib or two, but, all in all, I think he’ll be right if we can get him warmed up.”

Mother looked at me and mouthed, “Stay here.”She turned to Señora Teresa. “Can you watch her while I go with the Doc?”

Señora Teresa, nodded.

“Wait for Suzanna!” She whispered. “I know they’ll find her alive!” She kissed my cheek and followed the group that carried Father up to Doc Murphy’s home. Señora Teresa moved close and took my hand in hers.

In time, we retreated to the circle to watch the fire. I wasn’t cold, but somehow, I lost myself in the dark red and orange embers.

Thank you, Jesus, for finding my father. Please help them find my sister. Amen.

➰

 Señor Abel fed the fire, and it roared with the new wood. Señora Teresa handed me a mug of steaming sweet milk coffee. I took a sip, but it was tasteless. 

People arrived, others left, but I didn’t move an inch for hours. Earlier, we’d placed our belief on Fisherman Jed. We trusted he would find her, but he returned empty-handed despite knowing every curve and nook in the river. His frown said everything.

Volunteer searchers entered our camp, where we sat in the midday sun, but no one brought notice of Suzanna. They spoke of dead, bloated cows and rat snakes in the water. One man told a tale about a Cottonmouth precariously curled around a trunk. He beat the snake with a heavy stick and watched it float down the river, lifeless.

Two of my schoolmates, Frank and Jimmy, were determined to find Suzanna and stayed even after the other voices had gone hoarse.

The autumn sun was covered by darkening clouds. I prayed they wouldn’t bring more rain and, God forbid, lightning.

Where was Suzanna? Did she float down the river on a log ? Was she trapped? Had a snake had bitten her? Why couldn’t they find her?

As time passed, the crowd waned. Some left and returned, but most went home and didn’t come back. I admit I wasn’t sad to see Miss Myrtle’s crooked backside as she hobbled away leaning on her cane.

There was still hope in my heart, but the faces of those who stayed reflected my despair.

News came from Doc’s home by way of Mother, who had returned to check on me. She reported that Father was stable, he was breathing normally, and Doc’s medicine was working to help him recover.  Would he really be okay? I couldn’t help but wonder if she was telling me the truth. 

Señora Teresa stood by me, arm around my waist, comforting me while we waited. With every hour that passed, my resolve waned. I admired Señora Teresa, for she never lost hope. Holding her rosary, she prayed as she moved each bead on the string. She encouraged me to pray with her. I bowed my head. 

Please, Jesus, save my sister. I promise to be a better daughter. 

I will study harder and help others. I will try to control my impulsiveness and go to 

church every Sunday for the rest of my life. Amen.

I wasn’t bargaining with him; I truly meant to keep my promise.

➰

Marilyn Murphy walked down the path to the small group that remained. “I can see the water is receding,” she said. She carried a cast-iron pot full of beef stew, and even though the smell tickled my appetite, I couldn’t eat. La Señora offered me a blue tin bowl, “Eat, Ruth, or I have to feed you!”

I couldn’t let her do that, so I filled the spoon, blew on the meat, and soon found myself scraping the bowl. With my belly full, I felt stronger, my hope renewed. I searched the horizon for any sign of Suzanna as if she would come to me walking on water. 

Pacing the riverbank, Miss Marilyn walked with me. “You’re not to worry about your father and mother. They’re doing well. I even got your father to eat a bit of the stew. Your mother is sitting with him while I’m here. Doc’s busy helping others who were injured.”

“Did my father see Suzanna? Does he know anything?”

“No, he never saw her last night. He spent the night clinging to the tree after it fell. Apparently, very close to Señor Abel and his sons, but it was so dark he never saw or heard them.”

I knew I would never forget this day. Losing my sister was more painful than I could imagine. I knelt on the edge of the water and cried again. How could I have led her out into the storm? Miss Marilyn rubbed my back and helped me to stand. I stood in her arms and sobbed. “It’s okay, Ruth. These things happen. It’ll be okay. Nobody blames you.

I knew that wasn’t true.

“Whatever happened to her is her destiny. God knows best.”

My mother often told me I was too headstrong, and she was right. I’d make amends.

➰

Before I saw anything, I felt a rustle of excitement in the air. Others felt it, too, and joined me on the bank. Noisy chatter filled the silence.

“Shush,” I said. “I hear them.”

“WE HAVE HER!” A cry came from far off.

I turned to tell Miss Marilyn to get Doc Murphy, but she was already gone.

Within minutes, we saw the canoe coming toward us. Frank beamed, and Jimmy waved a piece of cloth to alert us. The few people that remained pulled the craft to shore. Upon the sand, a shape filled the bottom of the boat. Covered by a blanket, it looked no larger than a bushel of beans. Was Suzanna really under there?

They removed the blanket to reveal Suzanna’s translucent skin. I saw my dear sister but didn’t recognize her.  Her lips were gray and lifeless. I took a breath and braced myself. “Is she alive?” 

Doc arrived out of breath, Marilyn and Mother trailed behind. I held on to Mother as they removed Suzanna from the boat; her leg bent oddly.

“Her leg is badly injured,” Jimmy said.

Doc instructed Mr. Anders to pick her up and carry her to his home. I ran ahead and beat them, arriving moments before the others. 

“Clear the way,” Doc yelled, climbing the stairs; Miss Marilyn pushed through and opened the door. With Suzanna in his powerful arms, the man entered the Surgery.

Mother asked the others to stay outside. 

“Stay here, in the entry, Ruth, while Doc takes care of your sister,” Miss Marilyn said, hurrying forward.

I sat on an old mahogany church pew in the foyer. I’d heard that the pew had been given instead of payment years ago. I wondered how many people had sat here, worrying if their family would live or die? 

Mr. Anders came out of the Surgery.

I jumped up, “Is she gonna be okay?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He left through the front door.

I tapped my foot on the floor. The large grandfather clock sat in the corner against the wall, ticking away the minutes. Two chairs filled the corner. The dark paneling hosted a mirror, and hooks where no garments and hats were hung.

I squirmed on the bench, staring at the floor and fidgeting with my hands. There were low voices and movement, but try as I might, I couldn’t figure out what was happening. I got up and put my ear to the etched glass on the double doors. 

When Miss Marilyn opened it suddenly. I stepped back to avoid a collision.

“Ruth, what were you doing?”

I hung my head and clasped my hands. “I was trying to figure… if she was okay.”  A tear came to my eye.

“Doc’s done everything he can. Now it’s up to Suzanna,” she nodded and retied her apron string. I noticed a spot of blood at the hem.

“Do you want to help me, Ruth?” Miss Marilyn asked. “It’ll be a long night, don’t want anyone going hungry.”

I nodded and wiped the tears from my cheeks with both hands and followed her to the kitchen. Her baked goods graced the table.

“You’ve been busy,” I commented.

“Take one, Ruth. You must be hungry.”

I chose a carrot muffin with white icing and licked the top.

“It’s good to see you smile, Ruth.”

How’s my father? Can I see him?”

“In a minute, I think Doc will say it’s okay. But first, would you like to help me make some sandwiches?”

She cut the ham, and I slathered her homemade honey mustard on the bread and added the cheese. 

“I’m almost ready to take these out. Do you want one?” She asked.

“No, thank you, Miss Marilyn. You’ve been so kind.”

She left the kitchen, and I wiped down the countertops. Then, I swept the crumbs like Mother had taught me. Miss Marilyn was so generous and feeding a village on our behalf.

Where was Father? Was he upstairs? Or maybe behind the doors with Suzanna. I wanted to go look for him. But I remembered my promise and stated put.

I stood at the sink, looking out the big window into the backyard. I could see pecan trees, their fruit, and leaves strewn in messy piles around the trunks. Night would be upon us shortly.

I heard Miss Marilyn say, “If you need anything, let me know. Help yourself,”  as she came busting through the kitchen door with an empty tray. “There’s more in here.” She said to someone behind her. Her apron caught in the door as it closed, and she had to open it to free the string that had come untied again.

“Ruth, Doc says you can sit with your father, but you aren’t to ask questions or bother him. Do you understand?”

I shook my head, “Yes, ma’am.” She ushered me through the dining room into the parlor, where Father lay on a long couch.

He lifted his head with a grimace when he saw me. Laying back on the pillow, he asked, “Are you okay, Ruth?”

“Yes, sir, I’m fine,” I said, trying not to cry. “Is it very painful, Father?”

“I’ll heal, and now that Suzanna is under the Doc’s care, everything is looking up,” he said with some effort. “We’ll make it through.” He stretched out his hand to take mine.

I smiled and sat in the chair beside him, stoking his hand. Darkness came, and we watched Miss Marilyn move through the room, lighting the gaslights.