Lily of the Springs by Carole Bellacera

and face the music. What would they do? Graduate or not, I knew I wasn’t too big to get a whipping. Not as long as I still lived under Daddy’s roof. But would they do worse? Would they kick me out of the house? Would they pin a scarlet “A” on my dress like they did to that poor Hester in Hawthorne’s book—the one Mr. Grider had made us read and write a paper on last semester—and make me wear it everywhere I went? Well, then, me and Jake would just have to run off together and get married.
    The thought calmed me. I wasn’t in this alone. I had Jake now, and if he had to, he would fight for me. I opened the front door and stepped into the house. If the light hadn’t been on, I would’ve thought the room was empty. That’s how quiet it was inside. But Mother sat in the rocking chair next to the cold pot-bellied stove with a sleeping Charles Alton in her arms, his blond curls peeping out from his blanket. Mother’s head lay back against her chair, her eyes closed. She rocked slowly, back and forth, and with each motion, the floorboards creaked in protest. Her face was pale, and appeared etched with new wrinkles since I’d last seen her.
    I felt a pang in her heart. Poor exhausted Mother. She wore the same pale blue dress she’d had on this morning, along with thick, brown support stockings and sturdy black “old lady” shoes that I vowed to never, ever wear.
    They must’ve just gotten home, I figured. Surely Charles Alton was doing better or the doctors would never have sent him home. I glanced around. But where was Daddy? And why was it so quiet if everybody was up?
    Mother gave no indication she’d heard me come in. I stood there a moment, hesitating. Should I announce my presence? Or just slip upstairs and pretend I’d been there all along? But that wouldn’t work. Surely, they’d already noticed I was gone.
    I opened my mouth to speak, but just as I did so, a muffled sob came from the kitchen. Mother showed no reaction to the noise, but just kept rocking.
    Like an approaching storm, dread swept through my soul. I didn’t worry about being quiet as I headed for the kitchen. The clacking of my high heels on the wood floorboard announced my presence and four pairs of eyes looked up at me as I stopped in the threshold. I stared, my stomach churning.
    Norry, Edsel and Landry sat at the oval oak kitchen table, the boys sipping cups of steaming coffee. A full glass of buttermilk rested, apparently ignored, in front of Norry. At her side stood Sylvie Lou Blankenship, dressed in a floor-length nightgown under a girlish pink robe, her graying hair in pin curls and covered with a net. Her liver-spotted hand rested on Norry’s slight shoulder. Tears tracked down my sister’s white face. Landry looked like death, his face graver than I’d ever seen. Even happy-go-lucky Edsel looked like a ghost with his freckles glaring from his bloodless face like red ants on a piece of white bread.
    My throat was so dry, I could barely move my lips. “What’s wrong?” I finally croaked.
    Sylvie Lou looked flustered. “Honey, you’d better sit down now. Let me pour you a cup of coffee. I just made it, and it’s piping hot.”
    My gaze flew from the older woman to Norry, then to my brothers. “What’s happened?”
    Norry’s eyes welled with fresh tears. “Charles Alton passed away , Lily Rae!” She burst into uncontrolled sobs, burying her face in her trembling hands.
    “Now, now,” Sylvie Lou said helplessly, patting her shoulder. “Remember what I just told you. He’s with Jesus now. Little Charles Alton is in Jesus’ loving arms.”
    I stared at my siblings, feeling as if a wooden beam had been rammed into my belly. Landry met my gaze, then looked away, his jaw trembling. A tear rolled down Edsel’s round cheek.
    “But that can’t be ,” I protested as the full impact of Norry’s words hit me. “I just saw him out there with Mother. She’s rocking him. He’s sleeping.”
    Norry cried harder. Landry