A Thousand Little Blessings by Claire Sanders

maybe you would…well, that you might…”
    “We can provide room and board, Mr. Simpson. If you’re hired, you would sleep in a bedroom near my father, and you’d be welcome to take all of your meals with us.”
    Charlie smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, ma’am. That’d be perfect. Just what old Charlie needs.”
    He didn’t have gray hair, but the lines around his mouth and eyes suggested Charlie was in his forties.
    “Since we’ll provide room and board, the pay may not be what you were expecting.”
    “Whatever you say is fine, Miss Davis. Doc Russell, he said your family was as square as a soda cracker and that’s good enough for old Charlie.”
    Etta had been praying for someone to help her father. Could this short, thin man be the person God had sent in response? “I’d like to check your references, Mr. Simpson. How can I get in touch with you?”
    Charlie rubbed his jaw. “Well, ma’am, that’s not so easy. See, the buddy I’m staying with, well, he doesn’t have no telephone. But I’m going to be in town all day ’cause he can’t pick me up until about seven o’clock tonight when he heads back to Austin.”
    “My goodness. What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”
    “Don’t you worry about old Charlie. I know how to while away the day. I’ll just find me a nice shady tree and take a rest. If it’s all right with you, ma’am, I’ll check back later this afternoon and see if you’ve made your decision.”
    She’d probably be able to talk to the doctor today, but contacting an Army officer might be difficult. “You understand that if I hire you, you’ll be providing almost everything for my father. You’ll be expected to help him eat, bathe, and dress as well as see to his rehabilitation. That’s a lot for one person to take on.”
    “Maybe. But not for old Charlie.” He leaned forward and tapped her desk with his index finger. “I’ve seen a lot worse than strokes happen to men a lot younger than your Pa. I know how to exercise his legs and arms so that he gets movement back in ’em, and as far as bathing and dressing him…well, that’s what I do all the time for those who can’t do for themselves.”
    Etta’s heart told her that Charlie Simpson was the right man for the job, but her head told her she’d better check his references. She stood and offered her hand again. “Tell you what, Mr. Simpson. You give me time to talk to Dr. Russell and to locate Captain Ross. I usually leave the bank around five o’clock. Stop back in before then, and we’ll talk again.”
    Charlie’s eyes wrinkled with his wide grin. “It’s a deal, ma’am.” He shook her hand vigorously. “You’ll see. Old Charlie’s your man, all right.”
     
    ****
     
    Rosa clucked her tongue as she followed Etta up the back stairs. “Your Papa, he didn’t eat nearly enough. I’ll bring your dinner on a tray. See if you can get him to eat something.”
    “What time did the nurse leave?”
    “That woman,” Rosa answered with a disgusted tone. “She spent more time in my kitchen than she did with your Papa.”
    Etta shifted the sewing basket in her arms and knocked softly on his open door. Her father was sitting up in bed, bolstered by pillows. “Good evening, Papa. How are you feeling?”
    “Hmph.” The stroke had robbed him of speech, leaving grunts and groans in place of words.
    Rosa peeked into the room, shook her head, and then hurried down the back stairs.
    Etta fixed a smile on her face and entered her father’s room. “Your face is almost back to normal, Papa. That’s a good sign.”
    He nodded his head slowly, as though that simple action required forethought.
    Etta pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. “I went to the bank today. Everything’s fine there. We’re down a little in manufacturing, but that’s to be expected now that war production is declining. We’re up quite a bit in agricultural futures.”
    “Hmph.”
    White stubble covered her