John: On How Aunt Jess Got Better

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Being the youngest of six children, I've gotten used to a few things. I'm used to being bossed around by my brothers and sisters. I'm used to being teased and left out. But I'm also used to Ma a-fussing over me more than she did the other kids, and when I came home with my twisted ankle, Ma kept me laid up for a week. She even took me to Doctor-Mayor Ricker's place to have him take a look at it.

"I see nothing wrong," Doctor-Mayor Ricker decided as he looked at my swollen, scab-covered ankle. "Only watch for infection. Tell me, young John, when did you apply the yarrow?"

"Right away, sir," I said. "I found some in the woods."

Doctor-Mayor Ricker nodded. He looked like a shrew for all the world to see, with his long, pointy nose and his hair that was thin, short, and brownish-gray. "Then there is little chance for infection, so long as the wound is kept clean. You worry too much, Mrs. Hilton. Why, when I was a boy, my mother never worried. She simply yelled at us."

"You've never even worried about the girls this much," I put in.

Ma scolded me with her eyes before she paid Doctor-Mayor Ricker with a pan of her right-famous blackberry cobbler. Doctor-Mayor Ricker looked up to heaven like the angels sent it to him.

"Blessings upon you, Mrs. Hilton!" he said.

I put my shoe back on. I ought to wear boots like everyone else in town, but I prefer moccasins. They're an awful lot quieter for walking through the forest.

Suddenly, I heard a wagon come to a real quick-like stop outside. I heard a voice calling for help, and a figure burst through the door.

It was my cousin Daniel.

"It's my Ma--"

I ran out the door, ahead of Ma and Doctor-Mayor Ricker, to the wagon. Aunt Jess was laying in the back, covered up in a blanket. She looked awful still and white. For a moment, I thought she was dead.

"Aunt Jess!" I called. I crawled into the wagon beside her. I didn't rightly know what else to do, so I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. "Aunt Jess, can you hear me?"

Aunt Jess's pretty hazel eyes opened, and she smiled. Her cold hand squeezed mine. "All's well, John," she said. Her voice wasn't hardly more than a whisper. Her eyes started to close again, but there was a sweet smile on her face. "All's well...."

"Aunt Jess!"

Doctor-Mayor Ricker came and got in the wagon beside me. He checked her pulse and felt for breathing and put an ear to her chest to hear for a heartbeat. Then, he looked up at me, Ma, and Daniel with a firm face.

"My condolences to your family," he said. "I shall alert Pastor Williams."

The doctor left, and I didn't know what to think, and Ma kept her head up as she started to cry. Daniel looked all confused-like for a bit, then he pressed his eyes shut and hid his face. His shoulders were shaking.

Ma put her arms around Daniel. "John, do you think you could go tell Pa?" she asked.

I nodded. I took off, hobbling on my twisted ankle, but not really paying attention to it.

I didn't bother going into the house. Pa was always outside, always working, unless he had an awful good reason not to. He was hoeing corn when I found him, and it took me a good minute to find my voice.

"Pa."

He didn't look up so I tried a little louder.

"Pa."

Pa finally looked up. "What's the matter, boy?"

I took a real deep breath. "Aunt Jess died."

And then it hit me. I missed her. I hadn't known Aunt Jess very well. We didn't get to see her much--just holidays, and maybe once or twice a year besides. But that was more than we saw any of my other relatives. And truth be told, Aunt Jess was a real kind-hearted person. I'd miss her even if she weren't my aunt.

Pa didn't say nothing for a while. He looked down at the dirt, then at the sky, then he left his hoe on the ground and looked up at me. "Who told you?"

"Daniel brought her here for the doctor. They were too late. They're out by Doctor-Mayor Ricker's if you want to see them."

Pa left, without so much as bothering to put his hoe away. I did it for him. I figured I'd do as much as I could to help Pa out in the fields. He'd miss Aunt Jess far more than I did.

I didn't cry until the funeral two days later. Ma fixed Aunt Jess up in her one good dress and made her hair look all nice. She looked so still and white and pretty that I knew she was an angel. All of a sudden, I heard someone laughing. It was Uncle Leon. He was drunk. He was drunk at his own wife's funeral. I looked at him, and I looked at Aunt Jess, and that's when I started crying.

I stayed close to Ma, as if I was feared she'd die next. All of a sudden, Daniel came over. He was mad.

"Why'd God take Ma?" he demanded. "Thomas still needs her. He's only ten."

I saw Thomas, standing all quiet-like by his ma's coffin, and I almost started crying again.

Ma gave Daniel one of the nice, long hugs that makes her a good Ma. "God didn't take your ma, Daniel," she said. "She was a good, Christian woman. She's in heaven, and she's happy there, and she's not sick any more, and she don't have to put up with your pa's drinking, neither."

Daniel seemed to get smaller, and he sat down. "That's just it," he said. "I can look after Pa, and I can look after Thomas. But I can't keep an eye on both of them. What do I do, Aunt Tabitha?"

"Well," said Ma, "you and Thomas can come live with us. You'd help Uncle Samuel on the farm, but that's nothing you aren't used to."

"What about Pa?"

"Your pa's a grown man. Let him take care of himself."

Daniel put his head in his hands and thought. "He's still my Pa," he decided. "I won't leave him. But Thomas...." He looked up at Ma. "He needs a Ma. Give us a week or so. I'll...me or Pa, we'll drive him down."

Daniel looked sick. He was sad and scared, and he looked up at Thomas like he missed him already. Then he smiled and looked at Ma. "Thank you for taking care of my brother."

So that was that. Thomas was coming to live with us. Daniel was going to put up with his idiot Pa. Assuming Daniel was a half-decent cook, Uncle Leon wouldn't even notice Aunt Jess had died. But Aunt Jess was in heaven, and she wasn't sick no more, and that's what helped life get back to normal.

 


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