Wish You Well(20)

pointing to the jewelry.

Oz cupped the necklace in his hand, eyed it closely, like it was a timepiece and he was

checking what o'clock it was. "Friend told me about it. Supposed to help Mom. Lou

doesn't believe it will." He paused. "Don't know if I do either."

Louisa ran a hand through his hair. "Some say believing a person get better is half the

battle. I'm one who subscribes to that notion."

Fortunately, with Oz, a few seconds of despair were usually followed by replenished

hope. He took the necklace and slid it under his mother's mattress. "Maybe it'll keep

oozing its power this way. She'll get well, won't she?"

Louisa stared at the little boy, and then at his mother lying so still there. She touched Oz's

cheek with her hand—very old against very new skin, and its mix seemed pleasing to

both. "You keep right on believing, Oz. Don't you never stop believing."



CHAPTER TEN

THE KITCHEN SHELVES WERE WORN, KNOTHOLED PINE, floors the same. The floorboards

creaked slightly as Oz swept with a short-handled broom, while Lou loaded lengths of cut

wood into the iron belly of the Sears catalogue cookstove that took up one wall of the

small room. Fading sunlight came through the window and also peered through each wall

crevice, and there were many. An old coal-oil lamp hung from a peg. Fat black iron

kettles hung from the wall. In another corner was a food safe with hammered metal

doors; a string of dried onions lay atop it and a glass jug of kerosene next to that. As Lou

examined each piece of hickory or oak, it was as though she was revisiting each facet of

her prior life, before throwing it in the fire, saying good-bye as the flames ate it away.

The room was dark and the smells of damp and burnt wood equally pungent. Lou stared

over at the fireplace. The opening was large, and she guessed that the cooking had been

done there before the Sears cookstove had come. The brick ran to the ceiling, and iron

nails were driven through the mortar all over; tools and kettles, and odd pieces of other

things Lou couldn't identify but that looked well-used, hung from them. In the center of

the brick wall was a long rifle resting on twin braces angled into the mortar.

The knock on the door startled them both. Who would expect visitors so far above sea

level? Lou opened the door and Diamond Skinner stared back at her with a vast smile. He

held up a mess of smallmouth bass, as though he was offering her the crowns of dead

kings. Loyal Jeb was beside him, his snout wrinkling as he drew in the fine fishy aroma.

Louisa came striding in from outside, her brow glistening with sweat, her gloved hands

coated with rich dirt, as were her brogans. She slipped off her gloves and dabbed at her

face with a sweat rag pulled from her pocket. Her long hair was pulled up under a cloth

scarf, wisps of silver peeking out in spots.

"Well, Diamond, I believe that's the nicest mess of smallmouth I ever seen, son." She

gave Jeb a pat. "How you doing, Mr. Jeb? You help Diamond catch all them fish?"

Diamond's grin was so wide Lou could almost count all his teeth. "Yes'm. Did Hell No—

"

Louisa held up a finger and politely but firmly corrected, "Eugene."

Diamond looked down, collecting himself after this blunder. "Yes'm, sorry. Did Eugene

tell you—"

"That you'd be bringing supper? Yes. And you'll be staying for it seeing you caught it.

And get to know Lou and Oz here. Sure y'all be good friends."

"We've already met," Lou said stiffly.

Louisa looked between her and Diamond. "Well, that's right good. Diamond and you

close in years. And be good for Oz to have another boy round."

"He's got me," Lou said bluntly.

"Yes, he does," Louisa agreed. "Well, Diamond, you gonna stay for the meal?"

He considered the matter. "I ain't got me no more 'point-ments today, so yep, I set myself

down." Diamond glanced at Lou, and then he wiped at his dirty face and attempted to tug

down one of a dozen cowlicks. Lou had turned away, however, completely unaware of

his effort.

The table was set with Depression glass plates and cups, collected over the years by

Louisa, she told them, from Crystal Winter oatmeal boxes. The dishes were green, pink,

blue, amber, and rose. However pretty they might be, no one was really focusing on the

dishes. Instead, tin fork and knife clashed as they all dug into the meal. When Louisa had

said the meal prayer, Lou and Oz crossed themselves, while Diamond and Eugene looked

on curiously but said nothing. Jeb lay in the corner, surprisingly patient with his portion.

Eugene sat at one end of the table, methodically chewing his food. Oz absorbed his entire

meal so fast Lou seriously considered checking to make sure his fork had not disappeared