Wish You Well(11)

trestle. The train slowed and then eased carefully onto the bridge, like a foot at cold

water's edge. Lou and Oz looked down, but could not see the ground below in the poor

light. It was as though they were suspended in the sky, somehow carried aloft by an iron

bird weighing many tons. Then suddenly the train was back on firm ground, and the

climb was on again. As the train picked up speed, Oz took a deep breath interrupted by a

yawn—perhaps, Lou thought, to stifle his anxiety.

"I'm going to like it here," Oz suddenly proclaimed as he balanced his bear against the

window. "Look out there," he said to his stuffed animal, which had never had a name that

Lou knew of. Then Oz's thumb nervously probed the insides of his mouth. He'd been

diligently trying to stop sucking his thumb, yet with all that was happening he was

finding it tough going.

"It'll be okay, right, Lou?" he mumbled.

She perched her little brother on her lap, tickling the back of his neck with her chin until

Oz squirmed.

"We're going to be just fine." And Lou somehow forced herself to believe that it would

be so.



CHAPTER SIX

THE TRAIN STATION AT RAINWATER RlDGE WAS NO more than a glorified pine-studded

lean-to, with a single cracked and spiderwebbed window and an opening for a door but

no door to fill the space. A narrow jump separated this wreck of nail and board from the

railroad track. The channeled wind was fierce as it fought its way through the gaps in

rock and tree, and the faces of the few folk hanging about, along with the runted trees,

evidenced the blunt force of its chisel.

Lou and Oz watched as their mother was loaded into an ancient ambulance. As the nurse

climbed into the vehicle, she scowled back at her charges, the confrontation of the day

before obviously still rankling her.

When the doors of the vehicle closed, Lou pulled the quartz necklace from her coat

pocket and handed it to Oz.

"I slipped into her room before she got up. It was still in her pocket."

Oz smiled, pocketed the precious item, and then reached on tiptoe to give his sister a kiss

on the cheek.

The two stood next to their luggage, patiently awaiting Louisa Mae Cardinal.

Their skin was scrubbed raw, each hair on their heads assiduously brushed—Lou had

taken extra time with Oz. They were dressed in their very best clothes, which managed

barely to conceal their pounding hearts. They had been there for a minute when they

sensed someone behind them.

The Negro man was young and, in keeping with the geography, ruggedly built. He was

tall and wide of shoulder, deep-chested, with arms like slabs of ham, a waist not small but

not soft either, and legs long but one oddly pushed out where calf met knee. His skin was

the color of deep rust and pleasing to the eye. He was looking down at his feet, which

necessarily drew Lou's gaze to them. His old work boots were so big a newborn could

have slept in them with some room to spare, the girl observed. His overalls were as worn

as the shoes, but they were clean, or as clean as the dirt and wind would allow anything to

be up here. Lou held out her hand, but he did not take it.

Instead, with one impressive move, he picked up all their bags, then flicked his head

toward the road. Lou interpreted this as "hello," "come on," and "I'll tell you my name

maybe later," all wrapped into one efficient motion. He limped off, the bulging leg now

revealed to be a bum one. Lou and Oz looked at each other and then trudged after him.

Oz clutched his bear and Lou's hand. No doubt the boy would have tugged the train after

them if he could have somehow managed it, so as to effect a quick escape if needed.

The long-bodied Hudson four-door sedan was the color of a sweet pickle. The car was

old but clean inside. Its tall, exposed radiator looked like a tombstone, and its two front

fenders were missing, as was the rear window glass. Lou and Oz sat in the backseat while

the man drove. He worked the long stick shift with an easy skill, nary a gear ever left

grinding.

After the woeful state of the train station, Lou had not expected much in the way of

civilization up here. However, after only twenty minutes on the road they entered a town

of fair size, though in New York City such a meager collection of structures would hardly

have filled one sorry block.

A sign announced that they were entering the township of Dickens, Virginia. The main

street was two-laned and paved with asphalt. Well-kept structures of wood and brick

lined both sides of it. One such building rose five stories, its vacancy sign proclaiming it

to be a hotel at fair rates. Automobiles were plentiful here, mostly bulky Ford and

Chrysler sedans, and hefty trucks of various makes adorned with mud. All were parked