Wish You Well(37)

stopped, stooped low, waited a bit, and then eased out into the meadow. Up ahead he saw

what he had come for: the well. He took one last deep breath, gripped his bear, and boldly

walked right up to it. But Oz was no fool, so just in case, he whispered, "It's a wishing

well, not a haunted well. It's a wishing well, not a haunted well."

He stopped and stared at the brick-and-mortar beast, then spit on one hand and rubbed it

on his head for luck. He next looked at his beloved bear for a long time, and then laid it

gently down against the base of the well and backed away.

"Good-bye, bear. I love you, but I've got to give you up. You understand."

Now Oz was unsure of how to proceed. Finally, he crossed himself and put his hands

together as though in prayer, figuring that would satisfy even the most demanding of

spirits who granted wishes to little boys desperately in need of them. Staring at the sky he

said, "I wish that my mother will wake up and love me again." He paused and then added

solemnly, "And Lou too."

He stood there with the wind slicing into him and with peculiar sounds emerging from a

thousand hidden crevices, all potent with evil, he was sure. And yet with all that, Oz was

unafraid; he had done what he came to do.

He concluded with "Amen, Jesus."

Moments after Oz turned and ran off, Lou stepped from the trees and looked after her

little brother. She walked up to the well, reached down, and picked up his bear.

"Oz, you are so dumb." But she didn't have her heart in the insult, and her voice broke.

And ironically it was iron-tough Lou and not open-souled Oz who knelt there on the

damp ground and sobbed. Finally wiping her face on her sleeve, Lou rose and turned her

back to the well. With Oz's bear held tightly to her chest, she started to walk away.

Something made her stop though—she wasn't exactly sure what. But, yes, the fierce wind

truly seemed to be blowing her backward, toward me thing Diamond Skinner had so

foolishly called a wishing well. She turned and looked at it, and on a night when the

moon seemed to have totally abandoned her and the well, the brick seemed to glow as

though afire.

Lou wasted no time. She set the bear back down, reached in the pocket of her overalls,

and pulled it out: the photo of her and her mother, still in the frame. Lou placed the

precious photograph next to the beloved bear, stepped back, and taking a page from her

brother's book, clasped her hands together and looked to the sky. Unlike Oz, though, she

did not bother to cross herself, or to speak loud and clear to that well or to the heavens

above. Her mouth moved, but no words could be heard, as though her faith in what she

was doing were lacking still.

Finished, she turned and ran after her brother, though she would be careful to keep her

distance. She didn't want Oz to know he'd been followed, even though she had come

along only to watch over him. Behind her the bear and the photo lay forlornly against the

brick, resembling nothing so much as a temporary shrine to the dead.



As Louisa had predicted, Lou and Hit finally reached middle ground. Louisa had proudly

watched as Lou rose each time Hit knocked her down, the girl growing not more afraid

through each tussle with the wily beast, but rather more determined. And smarter. Now

plow, mule, and Lou moved with a fluid motion.

For his part Oz had become an expert at riding the big sled that Sam the mule dragged

through the fields. Since Oz was lacking in girth, Eugene had piled rocks all around him.

The big clods of dirt gave way and broke up under the constant dragging, and the sled

eventually smoothed the field like icing on a cake. After weeks of work, sweat, and tired

muscles, the four of them stood back and took stock of good ground that was ready now

to accept seed.

Dr. Travis Barnes had come up from Dickens to check on Amanda. He was a burly

man—red hammy face, short legs—with gray side whiskers, dressed all in black. To Lou,

he looked more like an undertaker coming to bury a body than a man trained in

preserving life. However, he turned out to be kindly, with a sense of humor designed to

make them all comfortable in light of his bleak mission. Cotton and the children waited in

the front room while Louisa stayed with Travis during his examination.

He was shaking his head and clutching his black bag when he joined them in the front

room. Louisa trailed him, trying to look cheerful. The doctor sat at the kitchen table and

fingered the cup of coffee Louisa had poured. He stared into his cup for a bit, as though

looking for some comforting words floating among the strains of beans and chicory root.

"Good news," he began, "is that far as I can tell, your momma's fine physically. Her

injuries all healed up. She's young and strong and can eat and drink, and so long as you