Read The Waltons 3 - The Easter Story for Free Online Page B
Authors: Robert Weverka
look at Mama.”
John-Boy knew it wouldn’t be as easy as that. Doctors who were specialists were probably very busy—and very expensive. His father already had money problems. “I don’t know,” he said again. “If there were any medicine or treatment for people with polio, I reckon Dr. Vance would have heard about it.”
Their disappointment made John-Boy wish he hadn’t sounded so negative. “But I guess it’s somethin’ we ought to think about.”
“Maybe we could ask G. W. where his Daddy took him,” Jim-Bob suggested.
John-Boy nodded and changed the subject. “How’s Erin and the girls takin’ everythin’?”
Jason shook his head. “Erin’s been cryin’ ever since she went to bed.”
“She doesn’t even want to see Mama tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“She’s afraid Mama’s gonna be all twisted and ugly and in pain.”
John-Boy winced at the description. When he brought the doctor up earlier this evening he had only glimpsed his mother. But she certainly hadn’t looked that bad.
“And Elizabeth is sucking her thumb again,” Ben said. “Mary Ellen screamed at us and told us to get out of their room.”
“What were you doin’ in their room?”
Ben shrugged and they all gazed despairingly at him. My God, John-Boy thought—that’s all they needed around the house right now: the kids all fighting or crying, and Elizabeth sucking her thumb again. It had been years since she did that. “Are they asleep?”
“No. Not when we left.”
“Listen,” John-Boy said, “Mama’s bein’ sick isn’t goin’ to be the end of the world for us. She’s still goin’ to be here, and she’s still goin’ to be the same person she always was. But she’s gonna need help from all of us. And Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa are gonna need help too. So let’s not make the problem worse. Let’s help ’em.”
John-Boy wasn’t sure if he impressed them with the urgency of the matter. But they all nodded.
“We’ll help, John-Boy.”
“Then you’d better go get some sleep. And I’ll talk to the girls.”
John-Boy waited until they were back in their bedroom, then knocked lightly and opened the girl’s door. “Mary Ellen? Can I come in?”
He could hear Erin’s muffled sobbing. Elizabeth seemed to be curled into a tiny ball, and Mary Ellen was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. She glanced over, but said nothing. John-Boy closed the door and eased down on the edge of Erin’s bed.
“I saw Mama today. Just for a minute, from the door.”
Erin’s sobbing stopped. She seemed to be holding her breath, scared to death of what was coming next.
“She looked fine. She hardly looked sick at all.” He gave her a minute to absorb this. “She was just sittin’ there, propped up in bed, smilin’—talkin’ to Grandma.”
Erin turned over and stared hard at him. Her face was streaked with tears.
John-Boy smiled. “I reckon when someone gets real sick we expect ’em to look different, or be a different person. But the only thing different about Mama will be her legs. At least for a while she won’t be able to walk.”
Erin clamped her eyes shut. “She’ll never be able to walk.”
“Well, that might be, Erin. But the important things won’t be changed—things like how she feels about us, and how we feel about her. And I reckon it’s important to her that we don’t change. I guess about the most valuable thing she has is our love for her. If we don’t keep given’ it to her, I reckon that’ll be a lot worse for her than not bein’ able to walk.”
Erin gazed silently at him for a long time. Then the tears suddenly flooded back and she turned quickly away, “Oh, John-Boy, I’m so ashamed.”
John-Boy put his hand on her shoulder and let her cry for a minute. “No cause to be ashamed. It’s natural wantin’ people we care about to stay the same.” He shook her gently. “Come on, Erin. We’re all of us mixed up and scared. It’s gonna be better tomorrow.
John-Boy knew it wouldn’t be as easy as that. Doctors who were specialists were probably very busy—and very expensive. His father already had money problems. “I don’t know,” he said again. “If there were any medicine or treatment for people with polio, I reckon Dr. Vance would have heard about it.”
Their disappointment made John-Boy wish he hadn’t sounded so negative. “But I guess it’s somethin’ we ought to think about.”
“Maybe we could ask G. W. where his Daddy took him,” Jim-Bob suggested.
John-Boy nodded and changed the subject. “How’s Erin and the girls takin’ everythin’?”
Jason shook his head. “Erin’s been cryin’ ever since she went to bed.”
“She doesn’t even want to see Mama tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“She’s afraid Mama’s gonna be all twisted and ugly and in pain.”
John-Boy winced at the description. When he brought the doctor up earlier this evening he had only glimpsed his mother. But she certainly hadn’t looked that bad.
“And Elizabeth is sucking her thumb again,” Ben said. “Mary Ellen screamed at us and told us to get out of their room.”
“What were you doin’ in their room?”
Ben shrugged and they all gazed despairingly at him. My God, John-Boy thought—that’s all they needed around the house right now: the kids all fighting or crying, and Elizabeth sucking her thumb again. It had been years since she did that. “Are they asleep?”
“No. Not when we left.”
“Listen,” John-Boy said, “Mama’s bein’ sick isn’t goin’ to be the end of the world for us. She’s still goin’ to be here, and she’s still goin’ to be the same person she always was. But she’s gonna need help from all of us. And Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa are gonna need help too. So let’s not make the problem worse. Let’s help ’em.”
John-Boy wasn’t sure if he impressed them with the urgency of the matter. But they all nodded.
“We’ll help, John-Boy.”
“Then you’d better go get some sleep. And I’ll talk to the girls.”
John-Boy waited until they were back in their bedroom, then knocked lightly and opened the girl’s door. “Mary Ellen? Can I come in?”
He could hear Erin’s muffled sobbing. Elizabeth seemed to be curled into a tiny ball, and Mary Ellen was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. She glanced over, but said nothing. John-Boy closed the door and eased down on the edge of Erin’s bed.
“I saw Mama today. Just for a minute, from the door.”
Erin’s sobbing stopped. She seemed to be holding her breath, scared to death of what was coming next.
“She looked fine. She hardly looked sick at all.” He gave her a minute to absorb this. “She was just sittin’ there, propped up in bed, smilin’—talkin’ to Grandma.”
Erin turned over and stared hard at him. Her face was streaked with tears.
John-Boy smiled. “I reckon when someone gets real sick we expect ’em to look different, or be a different person. But the only thing different about Mama will be her legs. At least for a while she won’t be able to walk.”
Erin clamped her eyes shut. “She’ll never be able to walk.”
“Well, that might be, Erin. But the important things won’t be changed—things like how she feels about us, and how we feel about her. And I reckon it’s important to her that we don’t change. I guess about the most valuable thing she has is our love for her. If we don’t keep given’ it to her, I reckon that’ll be a lot worse for her than not bein’ able to walk.”
Erin gazed silently at him for a long time. Then the tears suddenly flooded back and she turned quickly away, “Oh, John-Boy, I’m so ashamed.”
John-Boy put his hand on her shoulder and let her cry for a minute. “No cause to be ashamed. It’s natural wantin’ people we care about to stay the same.” He shook her gently. “Come on, Erin. We’re all of us mixed up and scared. It’s gonna be better tomorrow.