Mercy Me (18 page)

As excited as I was about the children's report, I was getting nervous that maybe we'd waited too long to take care of all this business. I called the Osbornes, and Betty said the children were playing in the wading pool Mrs. Purdy had ordered for them, but that she'd get them over here as quick as she could.

A little while later, I heard yet another vehicle coming up the driveway. It was Horace this time. I figured he was ready to take the papers back to Columbia and would hang around until they were signed. I slipped back into the sickroom to see if Maria was awake enough to sign the citizenship stuff.

I heard the screen door close, and in a minute or two Horace was at the bedroom door. His voice was trembling when he called my name.

I walked out of the room to greet him, and I couldn't believe what I saw. His face was white as cold ashes, and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Horace! What's the matter?”

He turned his back and doubled over crying.

I put my arm around him and led him to the kitchen.

“Close the door,” he said, sobbing.

I closed the door and turned back to him. He sat down, his arms folded on the table, and put his head down. And it came to me what this was all about. Horace had no mama; he couldn't tell his daddy. I was the only one in Live Oaks he could tell that his test came back positive.

I put my arms around him and held him close. And I cried too.

Lucy tapped on the kitchen door. “Esmeralda?”

I dabbed at my eyes with my apron, then poked my head out the door. “Yes, Lucy?”

“Don't you think I should put that new gown on Maria that the ladies brought her?”

“Yes, let's do that.”

I patted Horace on the shoulder and left the kitchen to go help Lucy put Maria into the pretty gown. It was one of those silky kind with little pink rosebuds around the neck. The W.W.s had made up the money to buy it, and a committee went to get it while it was on sale.

Once we slipped the gown onto that frail body, Lucy touched up Maria's face with some blush and brushed her hair. I handed Lucy Maria's Spanish comb.

“Did you talk to her yet?” I asked as Lucy gently placed the comb in Maria's hair.

“Some. Carlos was born in California, Rios in Texas, and Angelica in Florida. I've filled in the states on their papers, but she's so weak she's having a hard time remembering their birthdays.”

“I tell you what to do. The children told you their ages. Carlos is five, Rios is four, and Angelica is three. If Maria can remember the months they were born in, we'll just make up the dates.”

Lucy nodded. “I guess we'll have to.”

I left Lucy talking to Maria and went back to Horace. His head was still down on the table, but he was not crying as hard. I put two slices of bread in the toaster and poured him a glass of milk. “You had breakfast?”

He didn't answer. I got out the butter and jam. “Would you like some oatmeal?”

He raised his head. “No thanks.”

He blew his nose and sat there with his elbows on the table, with his head in his hands, looking down at the placemat.

The toast popped up. I took out two plates and served us both a piece.

But the poor boy made no move to eat. “Esmeralda, you said my sin would find me out. I just didn't know I'd get this death sentence.”

I reached out to put my hand on his arm. “I know this is difficult, but try to have some hope. You have the virus, but maybe if they treat it early, you'll postpone the AIDS part.”

“I guess, in a way, everybody's got a death sentence.”

“No, Horace. Christians don't have a death sentence.”

“Oh, I don't mean that way. I mean everybody has got to die sometime.”

I buttered my toast, lathered it with Thelma's damson jam, and took a bite before I told him, “There's no place
in the Bible tells a Christian to look for death. We are to look for the coming of the Lord.”

“Well, sure, but—”

“It's the blessed hope, Horace. We won't all die a natural death. When Jesus comes, we'll be caught up to meet him in the air.”

“Yeah, I know. All them TV preachers talk about that.” He was toying with the toast and not drinking the milk.

“With all that's happening in the world today, there's every reason to believe that Jesus is coming soon. The important thing is to be ready.”

I could hear car doors slamming. “That must be Pastor Osborne. I'm sorry. We can talk about this later, okay?” After he nodded his head, I got up and went to meet the children running up the walk.

19

Betty Osborne came with her husband to bring the children. The pastor was carrying Angelica, but the boys were excited, pushing and shoving each other as boys will do. Bringing the children inside, I got them quiet before we went in the room. When they saw their mother, they were as still as church mice. They couldn't take their eyes off her.

We had raised the head of the hospital bed and propped Maria up with pillows so that she looked more alive than she really was. The fragrance of the dusting powder we'd used had a soft scent like lilacs blooming. With the window open, the air was fresh and cool and had none of that hospital smell. And earlier that day, Lucy had gone to my garden and brought in big blue hydrangea blooms, which she put in my glass ice-tea pitcher and set on the dresser. All in all, we'd done everything
we could think of to make this last visit as beautiful as possible.

The boys stood close beside the bed, and Pastor Osborne held Angelica in his arms so her mother could see her. Poor Maria couldn't speak above a whisper, and I think that frightened the boys. They stood very quiet. I heard Maria whisper, “Carlos . . .”

Lucy listened carefully and then told me Maria was telling Carlos not to fight with his brother, to be strong, to be good, and to love Jesus. Seeing the little boy's chin quivering, Pastor Osborne laid his hand on his shoulder and drew him closer. Maria was mouthing the words that in any language could only mean “I love you.”

Rios's big, dark eyes didn't leave his mother's face as she spoke softly to him. As he listened, unconsciously fingering the edge of the sheet that covered his mother's bones, he looked confused. I knew his heart was aching.

Lucy wasn't sure she understood all that Maria had told him, but she did hear her say that he was a good boy. “Now she's telling both boys to look after their sister, to hold her hand. . . . I can't make out everything she's saying.”

Maria looked over to Lucy and said something. “She wants her comb,” Lucy told us and proceeded to take the comb out of Maria's hair and put it in her hand. Maria spoke with her eyes, and Lucy understood what she wanted to do. She took the comb, and with some effort, succeeded in putting it in Angelica's fine hair. Angelica reached out her hand to touch her mother's face. Maria was able to press her lips to the palm of that little hand
and then, as if to seal that soft kiss, she folded the tiny fingers over the palm.

I know we were all fighting back tears, but we managed to keep smiles on our faces.

It was time for the boys to say good-bye, so Pastor Osborne handed Angelica to Betty and lifted Rios, then Carlos, to give their mother a kiss. Somehow I felt those little boys knew it would be their last kiss. They primped up but didn't cry.

The comb fell out of Angelica's hair, and Betty retrieved it. “Tell Maria we'll keep it for Angelica,” she said.

Lucy repeated this to Maria, who looked like she might not have another breath in her. But as the Osbornes prepared to leave, Maria became frantic.

Lucy stopped them. “Wait, now, let's see what she wants.”

Maria was looking up at the pastor, her eyes pleading, her hands trying to grasp his arm.

Pastor Osborne turned to Lucy. “Does she want us to stay?”

Lucy spoke to Maria in Spanish and leaned down close to hear her whisper. “No, Pastor. That's not it. She wants to give her children to you.”

Pastor Osborne clasped Maria's hand in his. “Oh, thank her, Lucy. Thank her! Tell her we will love them and care for them and do everything we can to bring them up as she would want us to.”

Lucy repeated to Maria what he'd said, but Maria still seemed frantic. She was trying to say something.

Lucy bent down again to hear, then turned to the pastor and his wife. “Maria wants you to adopt the children so they can never be sent back to Guatemala.”

“We will,” Betty said. “Oh, tell her we will.”

Lucy relayed the message. Hearing that, Maria sank back on the pillow and closed her eyes.

“It's time we go,” Betty whispered, and they moved toward the door.

I followed them. “Pastor, can you and Betty give me a minute here, please?”

I quickly walked to the kitchen. Horace was still there, and I asked him to take the children to the car while I spoke with the Osbornes.

“Pastor,” I said when we were alone, “are you and Betty sure you want to adopt these children?”

As she wiped her tears, Betty answered, “Esmeralda, God himself sent us these darling little ones. They're the answer to our prayers.”

They didn't even ask me if the children's tests had come back negative or anything at all about their background. “Okay,” I said. “If you're sure this is the Lord's will for you, we need to get the papers signed and your signatures notarized.”

It was time to call Elmer.

By lunchtime, all the papers were signed and notarized. Although I wasn't sure anybody could make out Maria's pitiful scrawl, I gave the papers to Horace to take to the lawyer.

When I got back in the room, Lucy was putting a cold cloth on Maria's forehead. I stood looking down at her. “She's slipping away now,” I whispered.

Lucy seemed nervous. “Since the Osbornes left, she hasn't opened her eyes. She's hardly breathing at all.”

“She's let go, Lucy.”

We both sat down. There was nothing to do now but wait.

I was sitting down, but my mind wasn't. It kept racing from one thing to another. But mainly I was thinking about the Osbornes. With the pastor's salary, it was nip and tuck for just him and Betty. With three little ones to feed and clothe, it was going to stretch them beyond their limit.

Of course, as far as food went, I had enough vegetables canned and frozen to feed them all winter, and more besides. And the W.W.s could go through their linen closets and find enough sheets and towels to furnish them. There wasn't a member of the class who didn't have more of that stuff than they ever used. . . . The Osbornes would need a bed or two, and there was plenty of furniture in attics to take care of that. . . . Dr. Elsie could doctor them for free. . . . But even with all our help, the Osbornes would need more money than they were getting now. . . . That little two-door car they had would have to be traded for something bigger.

Suddenly I realized I was getting way ahead of myself. The good Lord would see to it that they were taken care of—the good Lord and the Willing Workers. I knew that
once the W.W.s saw what the Osbornes were up against, they'd persuade the deacons to recommend a raise.

Thinking that through, I began to wind down. Drifting in the window was the sound of Boris's lawn mower as he cut Mrs. Purdy's grass. He'd sent word that the young people wanted to help me with whatever housekeeping I needed done.
Maybe tomorrow I'll let them vacuum and dust.

From time to time, I stood up to take a look at Maria and to stretch my legs. We no longer tried to turn her over or do anything that might disturb her.

As the afternoon wore on, my mind drifted.
No doubt Percy has found Beatrice by now,
I thought. So I prayed for her.

I thought about poor Horace, and I prayed for him too. When his daddy found out, there'd be the devil to pay!

At suppertime Lucy went in the kitchen and made us sandwiches and ice tea. We took turns going to the table to eat.

We'd just finished eating when Dr. Elsie slipped in. She examined Maria, shined a small flashlight in her eyes, held the stethoscope to her neck, looked at her fingernails, and then removed the IV from her arm.

Finally, she looked at Lucy and me. “A few more hours,” she said.

Lucy looked scared. “Won't you sit down, Dr. Elsie? Can I get you anything?” She pulled up another chair.

Dr. Elsie took a seat. “Lucy, were you able to lead Maria to the Lord?” she asked in that blunt way she has.

Lucy frowned. “I'm not sure, Dr. Elsie. She seemed hungry to hear about Jesus, and I told her all I knew.”

“Did you draw in the net?”

“Draw in the net?”

I tried to explain. “Lucy, Dr. Elsie means, did Maria receive Christ as her own Lord and Savior?”

“Well, Maria couldn't talk much. She never said those words—those words about receiving Christ as her personal Savior. But she cried once, and when I asked her why she was crying, she said she had sinned so bad she couldn't do anything but cry. She was so afraid to die.”