“Here, let’s get you up, Miss Cussy,” Otilia urged.
I groaned. Pages were scattered across the pavement; its cover had been smashed and ripped.
“My vehicle is parked just across the street,” Melvin offered, his deep-brown eyes wide with fright.
Several hands lifted me up, carrying me to the back seat of an automobile over my protesting cries. Otilia and Frankie followed us and climbed into the back with me.
Melvin turned the ignition in the automobile and said, “I’m taking you straight to the hospital, darlin’.”
“I have to get to the tailor’s and then home,” I protested.
“We’ll let the Claxtons know as soon as we get you to the hospital,” he said.
“You’ve given us all a fright,” Otilia whispered.
“But Reverend’s suit is still at the shop.”
“You need to get checked out by a doctor,” Melvin said.
I could only hope they hadn’t called the law. Frightened, I looked to the girls. Streaks of blackened mascara had dotted down Otilia’s contorted face, and she held my hand in her cold one. Frankie sniffled into a handkerchief. “Scared the bejabbers outtame, Miss Cussy. Thought you were a goner for sure,” she burst out.
“Mrs. Claxton’s niece will take good care of you. She’s seen to plenty of us girls over the years,” Otilia said.
“Susan,” I said, then cradled my belly, praying the babe was safe.
Forty
Inside the hospital, Johnna’s girls went to find Susan while they left me in a wheelchair. She appeared in her white uniform and nurse’s cap. “Oh, Cussy, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you now. You’re in good hands.”
Otilia turned to Frankie. “Hurry, get hold of the Claxtons.”
“Thank you, ladies. Cussy, we’re going to get you to a room where the doctor can examine you,” Susan said.
Frightened of prying hands, more examinations, I shook my head. “I need to leave. Leave right now.”
“You had an accident and could have serious injuries, hon. We need to make sure you’re okay. Aunt Effie will be here soon.”
Otilia appeared at my side. “I’ll stay with you, Miss Cussy.”
Susan started to protest, but Otilia said, “I better stay with the librarian. Mrs. Claxton would not be happy if I up and abandoned her.” She laid her hand on my shoulder.
I was wheeled into a room. Susan helped me onto the bed. “Let me get you a gown. I see your skirt’s been ripped. You’ve got yourself some nasty scratches on your legs.”
I examined the ragged skirt with a torn pocket, alarmed. Patting both pockets, I realized the coin purse with my change, lipstick, and stamps was gone. Shaking my head, I clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling the moans. Ashamed I’d lost the librarian’s generous gifts and that I couldn’t complete her one simple task.
Susan retrieved a folded cotton shift from a white apothecary cabinet in the corner and tried to pass it to me.
“No, I’ll not take off my necessaries for doctors again.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, ma’am.”
She looked at me, bewildered, as she pulled the long hospital curtain around us, sealing us off. “I’m going to take some blood work—”
“No more tests.” I struggled to sit up. Otilia gently pushed me back onto the pillow. “It won’t hurt, and it’ll be over in an instant.”
“It’s just a small prick, and I promise I won’t take a lot,” Susan pressed. “Then we’ll clean up your legs.”
An hour later, Mrs. Claxton swept past the curtains. “Chile, oh my goodness, are you okay? I should’ve never left you on Walnut Street alone.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get Reverend’s suit. I lost track of the time.”
