Brian home today,” she lied. “I’d like to see how Brian’s doing since the surgery, and I’ve brought him a small gift.”
Now she was at the woman’s mercy. She only hoped that her mention of Malloy’s name had served as a warning that her son would not be pleased if she turned Sarah away. Of course, he knew nothing of this visit, and when he found out, he might well be angry that she’d come, but Sarah would deal with that later.
“The boy has enough toys,” the old woman said. “We don’t need no charity from the likes of you.”
“I know Brian has plenty of toys,” Sarah said, keeping her tone pleasant. “But I saw this, and I couldn’t resist. I wanted to see how his foot is doing, so I used that as an excuse to bring him something.”
The eye kept peering at her, and for a moment Sarah was afraid Mrs. Malloy was going to slam the door in her face. But then Sarah heard a scuffling sound, and the door jerked open far enough for her to see Brian had crawled over to see for himself who had come to call. At the sight of Sarah, he started jumping up and down on his knees and reaching out for her.
She hoped Mrs. Malloy couldn’t disappoint him, not even to spite Sarah, and she was right. Grudgingly, the woman opened the door wide enough for her to enter. Sarah reached down and picked the boy up, settling him on her hip so his cast was in front of her and she could examine it.
“Oh, my, you’re getting so big,” she exclaimed, smiling into his face.
He returned her smile, his sky blue eyes glittering with happiness. He was, she had to admit, one of the most beautiful children she had ever seen. She thought of Malloy’s dark, scowling features and realized Brian must take after his deceased mother.
“Soon you’ll be too big for me to lift,” she told him.
“He can’t hear you, you know,” Mrs. Malloy said, closing the door behind her. “You’re wasting your breath.”
Sarah ignored her and carried Brian over to the sofa. She sat down and settled him on her lap.
“Can I look at your foot?” she asked, pointing to the cast, and he obligingly held it up for her, beaming with pride. He might not understand the words, but he had no trouble discerning what she wanted. Unfortunately, seeing the cast told her nothing, since nothing was visible except the tips of his tiny toes. “Does he have much pain?” she asked the old woman.
“He cried a lot with it at first,” Mrs. Malloy admitted grudgingly after a moment’s hesitation. She didn’t want to tell Sarah a thing, but she also must be anxious for a professional opinion on the boy’s progress. Anxious enough that she’d even seek it from Sarah. “Francis said that was normal, but he kept trying to kick the thing off his leg. Must’ve thought that was what was making it hurt.”
“It’s hard when you can’t explain things to him,” Sarah said. “You can’t even tell him it’s going to make his foot better.”
“How do we know that it will?” Mrs. Malloy asked, the fear in her voice unmistakable.
“The doctor couldn’t promise a miracle, but he did think Brian would be able to walk when his foot has healed,” Sarah assured her. “He might have to wear a special shoe, but that’s a small thing when it means he’ll be able to walk.”
“Doctors,” Mrs. Malloy grunted. “What do they know?” She walked over and sat down on the chair opposite, still scowling at Sarah with disapproval.
Sarah had no answer for that. The truth was that doctors knew very little about many things, and medicine was as much intuition and guesswork and luck as it was skill and knowledge. Still, her friend, Dr. David Newton, had performed many such operations on feet even more deformed than Brian’s. If anyone could repair Brian’s foot, he had done it.
Sarah turned her attention back to Brian. “Look what I brought you,” she said, speaking to the boy even though she knew he had no idea what she was saying. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small wooden trolley car with wheels that really turned.
His face lit up, and he snatched the toy out of Sarah’s hand, simultaneously sliding off her lap so he could try out his new toy. His cast clunked on the bare wood floor, but he hardly noticed. Apparently, he wasn’t feeling much pain anymore. Sarah watched him pushing the car across the floor, trying out the wheels. Seeing his happiness and energy, she felt a familiar ache deep inside of her.
She and her husband Tom had wanted children. Sarah had wanted a house full of them, but they had never been blessed. Then Tom had died and with him all hope that she would ever hold a child of her own. She wasn’t old, of course, and if she remarried, there was still a chance… but she wasn’t planning to remarry. What man could take Tom’s place? So she would spend the rest of her life delivering other women’s babies instead. That wouldn’t fill the empty ache in her heart, but it would help.
“Is Francis coming home?” Mrs. Malloy asked out of the blue.
Sarah wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I suppose he will. I really have no idea.”
“You ain’t planning to meet him here?” She seemed surprised.
“No, I told you, I just wanted to see Brian.”
Mrs. Malloy sniffed. “I guess you see enough of Francis other places.”
Now Sarah understood the purpose of the questions. “Actually, I haven’t seen him since the day of Brian’s operation,” she assured the old woman.
“Then when did he ask you to come by and check on the boy?” Mrs. Malloy asked triumphantly.
Oops, she’d been caught in a lie, but Sarah wasn’t going to squirm. “At the hospital. He asked me to stop by whenever I had a chance,” Sarah lied again. “I would have been here sooner, but I’ve been very busy with my work.”
“Your
Her careless words had touched a raw nerve, but Sarah only winced inwardly. “Do you know when the cast will come off?” she asked to change the subject.
Mrs. Malloy glanced down at Brian, as if she’d almost forgotten he was there. He was terribly quiet, and Sarah saw to her surprise that he’d taken a toy horse and attached it to the front of the trolley with some string. The horse was now pulling the trolley, just the way horses pulled the ones that hadn’t been electrified yet in the streets outside. Once again she marveled at how clever he was. If only he could speak and understand. If only he weren’t deaf.
“It’ll come off in a couple more weeks, Francis says,” Mrs. Malloy replied to her question about Brian’s cast. “Then we’ll know if all this cutting did the poor boy any good.”
She didn’t sound like she was holding out any hope. That would be her way of protecting herself, of course. Don’t hope for anything good, and you’ll never be disappointed. Or don’t give the Devil a chance to crush your hopes. Or don’t tempt the fates. Whatever her reason, she’d never be optimistic about anything, least of all a loved one.
Sarah decided not to offer encouragement that the old woman didn’t want. Instead she slid off her chair and knelt on the floor so Brian could better show her his handiwork.
Sarah was just beginning to think about what to have for lunch the next day when someone began pounding on her back door. Hardly anyone except Mrs. Ellsworth ever came to her back door, which opened into the small yard behind her row house, and her neighbor wouldn’t be pounding like that unless something was terribly wrong. Sarah hurried to see who was there and opened the door to a distraught Mrs. Ellsworth.
“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, thank heaven you’re home!” she cried, flinging herself into Sarah’s arms. Her face was pale, and she was trembling.
“What is it?” Sarah asked in alarm. “Has someone attacked you?”
“Oh, no, I-”
“Is someone in your house? Should I get help?”
“No, I-”
“Here, sit down, you’re all wet,” Sarah said, forcing her into one of the kitchen chairs. It had been raining off and on all morning, and Mrs. Ellsworth had crossed over from her own yard without even an umbrella. Or a cloak, for that matter. And she still wore her house dress and apron. Something
“No, it’s-”
