The Measure of a Heart (24 page)

Anna tried to draw them out, but their answers were short and to the point, with no excitement coloring the words.

“Ball season over?”

“A-huh.”

“Are you enjoying school?”

“Kinda.”

“What grade are you in?”

“Five.” “Four.” Both words spoken at the same time.

“How’s your mother?”

“Okay.” But Anna noticed shifting of position and an uneasiness in eyes when they answered. Something was wrong.

“Your mother isn’t sick, is she?” she asked quickly.

“No.”

Anna went for a loaf of bread and her small jar of homemade rhubarb marmalade.

“Is something wrong at your house?” she asked as she sliced bread, not even lifting her head to look at either of them.

There was no answer. Anna looked up.

“Is there?” she asked again, looking directly at Ben.

“Uncle Mort’s there,” he answered as though that should explain things.

“Who’s Uncle Mort?” asked Anna, but she felt an uneasiness stealing through her.

“Pa’s brother,” said Sid.

“Is he just visiting?” asked Anna.

Troubled eyes looked up at her. “Sometimes he stays,” answered Ben.

Anna let the matter drop while she handed out the bread slices. Something was wrong. But she had no idea what it was.

The boys ate their bread and marmalade and then left the house. Anna heard their shouts later from over at the local playground. They had found some other fellows for a game of tag.

“I wonder what’s going on?” Anna said to young Maggie. “Maybe you and I should just take a walk.” And so saying, Anna got her hat and shawl and a bonnet and coat for her daughter and left for the Crosses.

As soon as she entered the yard she knew that something was indeed wrong. The place had a different feel—a different look—a different smell.

The big mutt of a dog was no problem. He knew them well enough to welcome them with a wag of his stubby tail. Maggie wanted to stop and pet him but Anna kept heading toward the house.

She knocked on the door but there was no response. She rapped more loudly and waited again. Still nothing. She was about to turn and leave when she heard a voice behind her. It startled her and she jumped, turning around quickly at the sound.

“Won’t get any answer from that pair.” It was Mrs. Cross.

“Oh,” said Anna, her hand fluttering near her face. “I wasn’t expecting you from that direction.”

Mrs. Cross just nodded.

“Is—is anything wrong?” Anna dared to ask.

“Mort is here,” said Mrs. Cross.

There it was again. An answer that wasn’t an answer.

“Yes—the boys told me—but—”

Mrs. Cross sighed deeply and crossed to the old rocker on the porch and slowly lowered herself. She looked tired—pained. Anna couldn’t understand it.

“Go on in and see for yourself,” the older woman said with a nod of her head.

Anna stared at the woman.

“Here,” the woman continued, holding out her arms toward Maggie. “Leave the youngster with me.”

Maggie was placed in the outstretched arms and Anna steeled herself before opening the door.

The room was a shambles. Anna wasn’t sure if its occupants had been fighting or celebrating. Everything seemed to be scattered across the floor, including items that should have still been on bodies.

Shirts, shoes, and socks were among the other debris. And then Anna noticed the bottles. That was the smell. Liquor. Anna raised her eyes to the form slumped in the corner. It was a man. Mort must—

But to Anna’s horror her eyes rested instead upon Matt Cross.

For one instant she feared that he must be ill—maybe even dead. She crossed to him, almost tripping over another body. The man on the floor was big, bearded, and bloated. But he looked like Matt. Mort? He was sprawled across the floor as if someone had downed him. Had there been a battle?

A groan from the corner told Anna that at least Matt was still alive. She hurried on to him.

“Oh, I wish I had stopped for Austin,” she said aloud. “I have no idea—”

But when she bent over the man, it was not so hard to tell the cause of his condition. Matt Cross was dead drunk.

Anna felt ill with grief and disappointment. All that was to have been behind him. He had been forgiven his life of sin. He had been baptized. He was a member of the local church. How could he? How could he ever do such a thing?”

She wanted to weep. She wanted to protest. And then to Anna’s surprise she realized that she wanted to reach out and smack the man smartly, right across his puffed, whiskered face.

But she did none of those things. She bowed her head and a moan escaped her lips. “Oh, God,” she prayed. “What has he done? This shouldn’t have happened. This shouldn’t have happened. His testimony. Everyone in the town has been watching him. His wife—She will never be won now. Oh, God.”

And Anna put her face in her hands and wept. The accuser began to thrust darts at her soul. “It was your fault” came the evil whisper. “You thought that just because he had prayed for salvation, he would never be tempted again. You let him down. You haven’t been calling—encouraging like you should have been. You let the whole church down. You’ve ruined your husband’s reputation in this town. His religion doesn’t work, folks’ll say. There’s the proof. It doesn’t work. Austin’s first convert. A failure. No one will listen now. You might as well quit.”

Quit—quit—quit. The word seemed to echo back and forth in Anna’s head.

Suddenly her back straightened and resolve filled her eyes.

“We can’t quit,” she said as though speaking to someone in the room. “I might have failed—but I won’t quit,” and she braced her shoulders and headed for the kitchen. She had heard that strong coffee helped to sober people in Matt Cross’s condition.

By the time Anna had the coffee ready, she could hear groanings from the other room. She didn’t know if it was Matt or his brother Mort who was making the noises. Maybe both. She didn’t go to check. She didn’t even want to look at them. She wished she never had to look at the scene again.

But she needed help. She knew so little about drunkenness.

She went out the back door and around to the front of the house where Mrs. Cross still sat, idly entertaining Maggie.

“Would you go to the church office and ask Pastor Barker to come, please?” she asked and was surprised at the calmness in her voice.

The woman arose without a word and lifted young Maggie up into her arms. She had taken a few steps before she turned and looked at Anna.

“They won’t wake up for hours yet,” she said from experience. “But when they do—you don’t want to be here.”

And she turned again and went on down the dusty path.

Anna puzzled over the statement as she went back around the house and into the kitchen.

Austin’s initial response was much like Anna’s. “How could he? How could he?” he kept repeating over and over as he bent over the two inert bodies.

“It’s the drink,” said Mrs. Cross with resignation. “Once it gets hold of a man, ain’t nothing that can break him loose.”

Anna wished to argue but it didn’t seem like the right time. Their hope of proving to Mrs. Cross that her husband was a changed man seemed to have slipped away. They would never convince her now.

“No use wasting coffee,” said the woman. “They’ll wake up when they wake up. An’ when they do—they’ll wake up swingin’.”

“You’d better go home,” Austin said to Anna. “I’ll wait here with Mrs. Cross.”

Anna looked from her husband to her small baby. She hated to leave Austin, but if things were to get as ugly as Mrs. Cross seemed to think they would, she did not want little Maggie endangered. She nodded dumbly and was about to pick up her little girl.

But Mrs. Cross was moving toward the cupboards. “Both of you better go,” she said, her voice sounding flat but firm. “I’ve been through it before. I know what to expect. No use taking chances on someone else getting hurt.”

She lifted cups from the shelf and began to pour coffee. “As long as you made it, ain’t no use wastin’ this coffee,” she said as she set the cups before them, picked up one for herself, and lowered her frame wearily into a chair at the kitchen table.

They both went home. Heavy-hearted. Downcast. Disappointed. Grieved. It was difficult to even talk about their feelings. Their doubts.

Anna was putting supper on the table when she heard footsteps running down their walk. She went to the door even before there was a knock. Somehow she knew that it would be Ben and Sid.

“Ma says, can you come?” blurted out Sid.

“Pa’s awake,” added Ben, his eyes wide.

“Oh, dear God,” prayed Anna and cast a glance toward Austin, who was giving Maggie a ride on his foot.

Anna looked from the table to Maggie.

“We’ll feed her,” offered Ben. “We’ll look after her.”

“Have you had your supper?” asked Anna as she laid aside her apron.

Both boys shook their heads.

“Then you go ahead and eat too,” Anna offered. “Maggie’s dish is there. Just give her vegetables. Mash them well.”

They left together. It was hard not to run through the town, but Austin held their pace to a fast walk.

They had no idea what to expect when they got to the Crosses. As they neared the door, Austin’s hand reached out to Anna’s arm.

“You’d better wait here while I check it out,” he warned, and Anna obeyed, though she would have preferred staying by the side of her husband.

It was quiet. Anna strained to hear sounds. What had happened? Was everyone in the house?

Old Mutt pushed himself up against her skirts and licked at her hand. Anna let her fingers trail over his shaggy head and massaged a loped ear.

Then she heard it. A low moaning. No, a sobbing. Someone was crying. What was happening in the eerie house? Anna moved forward just as the screen door opened and Austin looked out.

“Come in,” he invited.

The room looked even worse than it had when she had seen it last. Anna was sure that a fight must have taken place.

The loud sobs were coming from the kitchen. Anna followed Austin, her throat so tight she could hardly breathe.

In a chair, slumped forward with his face in his hands, sat Matt Cross. His shoulders were shaking with the sobs that shook his whole body. Anna had never heard such a terrible sound in all her life. The groans seemed to come from his very soul, to rend him bare with every rasping breath. She stood where she was, unable to move farther.

Mrs. Cross was dipping a cloth in a basin of water and wiping the man’s head. It was then that Anna saw the blood. He seemed to have an ugly gash on the back of his head. Was it that painful, to cause such weeping?

“Where is Mort?” she heard Austin asking.

“He sent him away,” Mrs. Cross answered without even looking up.

“Is he badly hurt?” Austin asked next.

“No—nothing serious. He’s been hurt worse before.”

“What can I—?” began Austin, crossing to the woman.

“Nothing now. I shouldn’t have sent for you. I was scared. They was havin’ a row. I was afraid that someone might get hurt—really hurt. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

But Austin was reaching for the cloth, ready to take over the cleaning up of the wound.

“It’s just that it never happened like that before. Where they turned on each other,” the woman went on to explain.

Anna moved forward. She could hardly hear the words of the woman over the sobs of the man.

“They started rousing ’bout the same time,” Mrs. Cross went on. “Mort started cussing and yelling and telling me to get some coffee—something to eat. So I started fixin’ supper—but it wasn’t fast enough for him. He threw a chunk of firewood at me. He missed, so weren’t no harm done, but Matt took offense.

“ ‘Don’t harm my missus,’ he says and Mort cussed at him.

“ ‘You think you’re the only one with the pleasure?’ he says to Matt.

“ ‘Nobody has thet pleasure,’ says Matt.

“ ‘What’s the matter with you—you turned to mush?’ says Mort. ‘First you don’t want to share my bottle—and now you’re lily-livered ’bout the woman. You a man—or what?’

“ ‘I think you better leave my house,’ says Matt.

“ ’S’ppose a yellow-belly like you is gonna make me?’ says Mort, and he started to swear something awful.