Wish You Well(17)

"Nearest phone on down the mountain in Tremont. But you can call the president of these

United States, still my home." Louisa Mae gripped the woman's elbow with a strength

that made the nurse's eyes flutter. "And we ain't got to bother Amanda with this." She

guided the woman from the room, closing the door behind them.

"Do you seriously expect me to believe that you don't have a telephone?" the nurse said.

"Don't have that electricity thing neither, but I hear they right fine. Thank you agin, and

you have a good trip back." She placed three worn dollar bills in the nurse's hand. "I wish

it was more, honey, but it all the egg money I got."

The nurse stared down at the cash for a moment and said, "I'm staying until I'm satisfied

that my patient—"

Louisa Mae once more gripped her elbow and led her to the front door. "Most folk here

got rules 'bout trespassing. Warning shot's fired right close to the head. Get they's

attention. Next shot gets a lot more personal. Now, I'm too old to waste time firing a

warning shot, and I ain't never once used salt in my gun. And now I can't give it no

straighter'n that."

When the Hudson pulled up, the ambulance was still parked in front of the farmhouse,

which had a deep, cool porch and shadows elongating across it as the sun rose higher.

Lou and Oz got out of the car and confronted their new home. It was smaller than it had

appeared from a distance. And Lou noted several sets of uneven addons to the sides and

back, all of which were set on a crumbling fieldstone base with stepstone rock leading

from ground to porch. The unshingled roof had what looked to be black tar paper across

it. A picket-fence railing ran along the porch, which also sagged in places. The chimney

was made of hand-formed brick, and the mortar had leached over parts of it. The

clapboard was in need of painting, heat pops were fairly numerous, and wood had

buckled and warped in places where moisture had crawled inside.

Lou accepted it for what it clearly was: an old house, having gone through various

reincarnations and situated in a place of unforgiving elements. But the front-yard grass

was neatly cut, the steps, windows, and porch floor were clean, and she tallied the early

bloom of flowers in glass jars and wooden buckets set along the porch rail and in window

boxes. Climbing rose vines ran up the porch columns, a screen of dormant maypops

covered part of the porch, and a husky vine of sleeping honeysuckle spread against one

wall. There was a rough-hewn workbench on the porch with tools scattered across its

surface and a split-bottom hickory chair next to it.

Brown hens started singing around their feet, and a couple of mean-looking geese came

calling, sending the hens off screeching for their lives. And then a yellow-footed rooster

stomped by and scared the geese off, cocked its head at Lou and Oz, gave a crow, and

stomped back from whence it had come. The mare whinnied a greeting from its corral,

while the pair of mules just stared at nothing. Their hairy skin was cave black, their ears

and snouts not quite balanced with each other. Oz took a step toward them for a better

look and then retreated when one of the mules made a noise Oz had never heard before

yet which clearly sounded threatening.

Lou's and Oz's attention shifted to the front door when it was thrown open with far more

thrust than was necessary. Their mother's nurse came clomping out. She stalked past

them, her long arms and legs cocking and firing off rounds of silent fury.

"Never in all my life," she wailed to the Appalachians. Without another word or grimace,

flap of arm or kick of leg, she climbed into the ambulance, closed the doors, which made

two modest thunks as metal hit metal, and the volunteer brigade beat a timid retreat.

Beyond perplexed, Lou and Oz turned back to the house for answers and found

themselves staring at her.

Standing in the doorway was Louisa Mae Cardinal. She was very tall, and though also

very lean, she looked strong enough to strangle a bear, and determined enough to do so.

Her face was leathern, the lines creasing it the etch of wood grain. Although she was

approaching her eightieth year, the balls of her cheeks still rode high. The jaw was also

strong, though her mouth drooped some. Her silver hair was tied with a simple cord at the

nape, and then plunged to her waist.

Lou was heartened to see that she wore not a dress, but instead baggy denim trousers

faded to near white and an indigo shirt patched in various places. Old brogans covered

her feet. She was statue-like in her majesty, yet the woman had a remarkable pair of hazel

eyes that clearly missed nothing in their range.

Lou boldly stepped forward while Oz did his best to melt into his sister's back. "I'm