Wish You Well(100)

"Why, I was just about to ask Mr. Goode that," declared Atkins.

It was Oz, though, who spoke. "Can Lou come too? I mean, not to the orphanage, but to

the other place?"

"Why sure, son, sure," said Goode quickly. "Never break up sister and brother." He added

quietly, "But there's no guarantee of that with an orphanage." He paused. "So, that'd be all

right with you, Oz?"

Oz hesitated and tried to look at Lou, but Goode was too quick and blocked his view. Oz

finally said quietly, "I guess so."

Cotton looked up in the balcony. Lou was on her feet, fingers wrapped around the railing,

her anxious gaze fixed on her brother.

Goode went over to the jury and made a show of rubbing his eyes. "That's a fine boy. No

further questions."

"Cotton?" said Atkins.

Goode sat down and Cotton rose, but then he stopped, his fingers gripping the table's

edge as he stared at the ruin of a boy on the big witness chair; a little boy who, Cotton

knew, just wanted to get up and go back to his sister because he was scared to death of

orphanages and fat lawyers with big words and embarrassing questions, and huge rooms

filled with strangers staring at him.

"No questions," said Cotton very quietly, and Oz fled back to his sister.

After more witnesses had paraded through court, showing that Lpuisa was utterly

incapable of conscious decision, and Cotton only able to slap at bits and pieces of their

testimony, the trial was adjourned for the day and Cotton and the children left the

courtroom. Outside, Goode and Miller stopped them.

"You're putting up a good fight, Mr. Longfellow," said Goode, "but we all know how this

is going to turn out. What say we just put an end to it right now? Save people any further

embarrassment." He looked at Lou and Oz as he said this. He started to pat Oz on the

head, but the boy gave the lawyer a fierce look that made Goode pull back his hand

before he might have lost it.

"Look, Longfellow," said Miller, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, "I've got a

check here for half a million dollars. All you got to do is end this nonsense and it's

yours."

Cotton looked at Oz and Lou and then said, "I tell you what, Miller, I'll leave it up to the

children. Whatever they say, I'll do."

Miller squatted down and smiled at Lou and Oz. "This money will go to you now. Buy

anything you want. Live in a big house with a fancy car and people paid to look after you.

A right nice life. What do you say, children?"

"We already have a home," said Lou.

"Okay, what about your momma then? People in her condition need a lot of care, and it's

not cheap." He dangled the check in front of the girl. 'This solves all your problems,

missy."

Goode squatted down too and looked at Oz. "And it'll keep those nasty orphanages far,

far away. You want to stay with your sister, now don't you?"

"You keep your old money," said Oz, "for it's not something we need or want. And Lou

and I will always be together. Orphanage or not!"

Oz took his sister's hand and they walked off.

Cotton looked at the men as they rose, and Miller angrily stuffed the check back in his

pocket. "From out of the mouths of babes," said Cotton. "We should all be so wise." And

then he walked off too.

Back at the farmhouse, Cotton discussed the case with Lou and Oz. "I'm afraid unless

Louisa can walk into that courtroom tomorrow, she's going to lose her land." He looked

at them both. "But I want you to know that whatever happens, I will be there for all of

you. I will take care of all of you. Don't you worry about that. You will never go to an

orphanage. And you will never be split up. That I swear." Lou and Oz hugged Cotton as

tightly as they could, and then he left to prepare for the final day in court. Perhaps their

final day on this mountain.

Lou made supper for Oz and Eugene, and then went to feed her mother. After that she sat

in front of the fire for a long time while she thought things through. Though it was very

cold, she led Sue out of the barn and rode the mare up to the knoll behind the house. She

said prayers in front of each grave, taking the longest at the smallest: Annie's. Had she

lived, Annie would have been Lou's great-aunt. Lou wished mightily that she could have

known what the tiny baby looked like, and she felt miserable that such a thing was now

impossible. The stars were fine tonight, and Lou looked around at the mountains painted

white, the glitter of ice on branch nearly magical when multiplied as it was ten thousand

times. The land could offer Lou no help now, but there was something she could do all on

her own. It should have been done long ago, she knew. Yet a mistake was only a mistake