CHAPTER 31
Evelyn
I am woken by the sound of china breaking and the thump of something heavy hitting the floor in Willa’s room. Tendrils of daylight are spilling onto my coverlet from the gaps in the curtains. The street below my bedroom window is quiet.
What comes to mind first is the sickening image of Willa lying unmoving in her bed and Mama rousing from sleep to find that our little girl has died in the night. The bedside table has overturned as Mama throws herself upon Willa’s lifeless body and the contents atop it have flown off, some of them breaking. I have no sooner pictured this horrible scene than I hear Willa cry out Mama’s name, rather than the other way around.
I spring from my bed and throw open my bedroom door, nearly crashing into Maggie, who is flying up the stairs with a wide-eyed baby in her arms.
“Stay there,” I command, and Maggie takes a step back as I yank open Willa’s bedroom door.
Mama is crumpled on the floor by Willa’s bed. Pieces of a broken teacup lie around her head. Her face is pale and a tiny trickle of bloodis seeping out of a thin line on her forehead where a porcelain shard has cut her. Willa is half sitting up in her bed, her pale face creased with worry. But even in a swift glance, I can see my sister is better. Her eyes are bright and clear and her skin a faint peach color.
“She just fell over,” Willa whispers, her voice full of fear.
“Mama?” I kneel to touch her shoulder, shaking it just a little.
She moans softly and raises a hand toward me, not for me to help her get up but in protest. She is trying to shoo me away.
“Mama!” I say again, and I put my hand to her forehead. It is hot with fever. I see no sign of her mask anywhere about her. She had been caring for Willa without wearing it.
“She was getting up to go to make me pancakes and she just fell over,” Willa whimpers.
“Mama?” This comes from Maggie, hovering at the doorway with the baby in her arms.
Mama opens her eyes and looks past me to Maggie. “Go,” Mama murmurs.
“Run and get Uncle Fred!” I say to Maggie.
Maggie turns away without a word and I hear her footfalls fast on the stairs.
“Mama, can you sit up?” My heart is thumping in my chest, pounding away like it is caged and wishes to be free. Why hadn’t she worn her mask? How could she have been so careless? As I lean over Mama and try to wrap my arms around her, I realize I’m not wearing mine, either.
“Go, go!” she says, fighting me off with weak limbs.
“Why can’t she get up?” Willa whines.
“She’s just resting a minute, Willa. Hush now and go back to sleep.”
“I don’t want to go back to sleep. Make her get up!”
“Please. Evelyn. Just go,” Mama whispers.
“Uncle Fred is coming, and we’ll get you into your bed, Mama. Just lie still.” I stroke her forehead and she turns her head away from me.
Far below us I hear Maggie pounding on Uncle Fred’s bedroom door. Her voice carries up the stairs.
“Mama has fallen!”
“Uncle Fred is coming,” I say to Mama, patting her shoulder gently.
A moment later Uncle Fred is in the room wearing his bedclothes. He has a blue plaid kerchief in his hand that he ties around his nose and mouth as he comes toward me.
“Move out of the way,” he says, and I scoot to the side, raising my arm so that the sleeve of my nightgown now covers the bottom half of my face.
Uncle Fred hoists Mama into his arms as if she weighs nothing. He is out the door with her in a blink, and I scurry to follow him into her and Papa’s bedroom. Maggie, who has sprinted up the stairs behind Fred, stands helplessly at the top step watching while downstairs the baby starts to wail.
Mama hasn’t been in her own bed for three nights, and all the covers and pillows are neatly in place. I yank back the coverlet, wool blanket, and sheet, sending the decorative pillows flying. Uncle Fred lays Mama on the mattress. She curls into a ball and begins to shiver. Uncle Fred pulls up the covers.
