Prayers and Lies by Sherri Wood Emmons Page B

fury. She grabbed a cane and lit out down them steps to beat the tar out of him, and she wasn’t paying attention to where she was stepping, and she fell. I heard her screaming all the way up here, and I ran down to see what hap-pened—everyone on the road was running. I got to the top of them steps and seen her lying at the bottom. Ida was trying to help her up, but she wouldn’t get up. She was screaming like a banshee, swinging that cane at Caleb. He kept trying to help her, and she just kept swinging at him, screaming that he was the devil hisself. It was awful, Helen, just awful.
    “Then, when we finally got her up to the house and she was bleeding and we knew she was going to lose the baby, she made Loreen bring her Bobby Lee’s shotgun. And don’t you know that girl got herself up out of her bed and dragged herself onto the porch, where Caleb was sitting. That poor boy was crying, and trying real hard not to show it. And Jolene pointed that gun straight at his head and told him to clear off—that it was his fault she was losing the baby, and if he ever showed his face at her door again, she’d blow his head off. I’m telling you, Helen, it was like she was crazy.”
    “Dear Lord,” Mother whispered. “What will she do now?”
    “If she’s got the sense the good Lord gave a coonhound, she’ll tuck her tail between her legs and beg Bobby Lee’s forgiveness when he comes back. If he comes back.”
    “Do you suppose he’ll find Caleb?”
    “I don’t know, Helen. I just don’t know.”
    I crept back up the stairs then, to think things over. But I didn’t go back to the attic room. Instead, I climbed into Mother’s bed, grateful for the pool of light from the hallway. When she came in a little while later, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.
    Mother changed into her nightgown and kneeled beside the big bed for a long time, saying her evening prayers. I squeezed my eyes tight and prayed, too. I prayed hard for Reana Mae and for the baby that was dead and gone away to Heaven. I prayed for Jolene and for Bobby Lee. I even prayed for Caleb.
    Finally, Mother climbed into the bed, kissed my forehead, and pulled the quilt snug under our chins. Then we both finally slept. It had been a long day.

9
News and Prattle
    T he next day, Reana Mae went back to school. I stood on the porch and waved at her and Ruthann and Harley Boy as the dirty yellow bus rumbled down the rutted road. Mother put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.
    “All right, then,” she said, cheerfully. “Are you ready to do some chores?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” I sighed. I hadn’t counted on Reana Mae going to school while I was here. But of course she’d been out of school for nearly three weeks. It was time for her to go back.
    I followed Mother into the cabin and helped her take down the blue curtains in the front room and kitchen. We were going to clean Jolene’s house from top to bottom, and I knew better than to argue about it. Mother was in spring-cleaning mode. It happened every April at home, and we all dreaded it. She got a kind of half-crazed gleam in her eyes when the south wind started blowing warm and the first daffodils poked up through the late snow. All of us scrubbed and scoured and dusted and waxed every surface in the house until the whole place sparkled clean and smelled of bleach. Today, Mother’s eyes had that gleam, and she’d come armed with buckets, scrub brushes, scouring powder, and a big mop she’d borrowed from Donna Jo. I knew it would be another long day.
    Jolene was still asleep when we started working. By the time she staggered out of her room at ten, we had scrubbed down the whole kitchen, walls and all, and were starting on the front room.
    “Hey, Jolene!” I called out when I saw her.
    Mother looked up from the spot she was scrubbing on the wooden floor and smiled. “Good morning, Jolene. How are you feeling today?”
    “What the hell are you doing?” Jolene scowled. She swayed