A warm hand shook me from sleep. "Christy, wake up. Wake up Christy." I opened my eyes confused and squinted up at the person who shook me. It was David. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I promised to come get you when George woke up."
I sat up and looked at David confused--still asleep. "George?" I asked. I had forgotten where I was. I had forgotten what had happened, but suddenly everything came back and I winced as if it had caused me physical pain. Finally I understood what David was saying. "George is awake?"
"Yes. Yes he is!" David said. Then he took my hand gently, laced his fingers through mine and smiled. "Come with me."
As we walked up the three flights of stairs, I regretted not being there the second he awoke. Why had I let myself sleep? Already I was failing Father's last request of me. As we walked down the hall, I grew nervous. How was George going to react to everything: his leg, Mother and Father?
I saw him the minute we stepped into the hospital room. He still lay prostrate on the bed, but his big blue eyes were open; Neil was taking his pulse. Late afternoon sunlight lit his face. I ran down the isle of cots, scooped him from the bed, and clinched him in my arms. I held him as if he would disappear if I let go.
"George, oh George," I kissed his cheek.
He moaned softly because of the pain. "Christy?" He said nothing else, but he wrapped his arms around me and held me weakly. "Don't cry Christy." His voice was weak but steady. I twirled my fingers through his thick brown hair.
With all his pain, he was comforting me. Maybe he didn't know. "George," I said, still clutching him in my arms. "Mother and Father…."
"I know," he interrupted.
I pulled away from him to see his face. I wanted to know that he was okay. He blinked thoughtfully. His eyes were still hazy from his long unconsciousness. "Oh, thank God you're safe George." I hugged him again. When I did, I felt him gasp. "Did I hurt you?" I pulled away to look at him again. His face was ashen; he was staring at his left leg. My heart broke.
His hand felt the blanket where his leg should have been.
"Oh Georgie. I know. I know Georgie. I'm so sorry." I felt as if I myself had betrayed him and amputated his leg. Why did I have my legs? Why should it be him and not me lying there without a leg? I wished that it had been me. I can not describe his face. It was so distorted with pain. At that moment, I would have done anything to take his pain away.
"It's going to be okay, son." A voice said. I looked up. It was Uncle John. I had not even noticed that he was standing there. He gripped George's shoulder affectionately. George fell back on the bed, and I saw tears wash over his pale face.
David, Alice and Neil had stepped away to give us a private moment. They were huddled in the doorway. I looked back at them searchingly. I wanted someone to tell me the answers. Someone had to know the answers. Here were the three people that I admired and trusted most in the world. I looked to them as I would have looked to Mother and Father for guidance; surely one of them could help. But they all looked at me helplessly. Each of them wore faces of pity and sadness, but no one seemed to offer the answer that I sought.
And where was God? I turned and looked back at George. He was overcome with sorrow--breathless with it. He covered his eyes with his arm. And I asked myself again, where was God? Anger filled my heart.
*****************
Neil sat down next to me on Father's empty cot. I felt the mattress sink under his weight. I was watching George sleep. Darkness had come again, and the room glowed golden-orange in the coal-oil lantern light. Neil and the other doctors had given George something for the pain, and now he slept soundly.
Neil reached for my hand. He brushed his fingers over my palm gently. I looked at him. He transferred his gaze from my hand to my face. His kind eyes and wrinkled brow portrayed his concern. He said nothing but looked at me with such understanding. He didn't have to say anything; his expression alone melted all the guards I had been holding on to so tightly. I bowed my head and pressed my face against my fist, covering my eyes and nose. I cried silently, trying so hard to fight it, trying not to make a sound. I grit my teeth and felt the tightness in my throat. I knew that I had to be strong. I wasn't a baby anymore. George was depending on me. Neil put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him; my face was against his chest. His quiet touch was so soothing to me.
"It's okay to cry Christy. It's okay." He stroked my hair softly. He said nothing else, but he continued to hold me while I cried.
**********
The funeral was on Sunday. George was not well enough to go, and Uncle John's wife Polly offered to stay with him. Uncle John, David, Miss Alice, and Neil escorted me to the funeral. Miss Alice had helped me dress. I didn't even remember putting on my shoes. The funeral was a haze of faces and hugs. I could barely stand because I was so exhausted. I had only slept a few hours since Ben Pentland had handed me that telegram, and my body reacted against the lack of sleep. My eyes twitched and my stomach burned. I remember my mother's favorite song, "Amazing Grace," being played. Uncle John gave a eulogy. I had wanted to read Father's favorite poem, but everyone had advised against it, and when I sat in the front pew listening to the minister give the sermon, I was thankful that I did not have to get up and talk. People I had never met came up to me and kissed me. Women hugged me and said, "They look so peaceful, Christy" or "I am so sorry--if there is anything that I can do…" or "What a tragedy, they were much loved." The whole time, I clutched my little gold locket as if it were an amulet of protection.
They were buried next to Amelia under a sugar maple.
After the graveside service, we had to go to my parent's house to receive people. This was much more difficult than the funeral. The whole house smelled like my mother--lavender and talcum powder. Her needlework lay in her chair. She had been working on a Christmas tapestry. Father's latest book was turned upside down beside his bed, marking the last page that he had read. Mother had tucked my teddy bear in my bed beneath Grandma Rudd's quilt. George's baseball cleats, mitt, and team jersey cluttered the floor of his bedroom. I walked about the house in a daze. I know that people talked to me, but I only partly listened. The backs of my legs ached. David asked me to sit and eat some fried chicken, which I did without thinking. Miss Alice pulled me close to her and said, "Thee will get through this, Miss Huddleston."
Neil turned to me as the day turned to late afternoon. He held a glass of fruit juice in his hand. "I'm worried about you Christy. You need some sleep."
"I know, but George. I need to be with him."
"You will be no good to him, Christy, if you get sick too. He's going to need all of your strength."
I nodded; I didn't want to admit to him that I was afraid to sleep. I feared that I would wake, as I had before, with the feeling that everything was okay, and then have to live through the whole thing over again.
"Here," he said. "I brought you some juice." He handed me the glass. I drank it. Within a few minutes I felt so sleepy that I could hardly stand. "Neil--you put something in the drink?" He picked me up, carried me up the stairs, and laid me down in my own bed. The smell of my goose down pillow was so peaceful. I sunk deep into the mattress. I had forgotten how soft my bed was. Neil covered me with the quilt. "Sleep well, Christy." He used such a soft voice that it was like listening to the river. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. Then he left me.
******
I awoke to find Miss Alice sitting beside me. I was holding my teddy bear in my arms. I felt like I was ten years old. She smiled at me.
"How long have I been asleep?" I asked.
"All yesterday afternoon, last night, and some this morning." She said. "But thee needed the rest." She took my teddy bear in her hands and smiled at it. "How does thou feel?"
"Better." I said. "But George?"
"He is fine," she assured me. "He is talking to some doctors this morning about physical therapy. Don't worry--Neil and David are there with him."
"Christy, we need to talk about thy future. We need to talk about whether or not thee will return to Cutter Gap?"