Sarah's Promise by Leisha Kelly

choice but to at least talk to his mother, if I could. Maybe there was something I could do, even if it was just to take word into the next town for them, to have the doctor sent out. I could hear what sounded like at least two babies crying inside.
    The boy ushered me in quick, and a woman’s voice spoke up before I even saw her. “Sir, we’ve got the chicken pox. You might not want to take another step.”
    “I’ve had it,” I told her. “It won’t bother me.”
    She sat on a chair with one foot propped on a footstool. Her face showed five or six red pox marks, no more than that. But her eyes looked sunk and red, and the ankle of her propped foot was real swollen. From another room, the sound of the crying continued, along with another plaintive voice. “Mama . . .”
    “I’ll be there in just a minute, sweetie,” she answered the calling child, looking up at me with stark uncertainty.
    Then I noticed she was wearing a coat. It was barely any warmer inside than it had been out. “The children all sick?” I asked.
    “All but me,” the boy who’d called me answered. “I had the chicken pox when I was little. I been trying to help, but I don’t know what to do.”
    “You got wood?” I asked, noticing the fireplace filled with only ash and dying embers. I looked for sign of a coal stove or any other source of heat and spotted a grating pretty quickly. Coal furnace, prob’ly, but the iron grate was stone cold. “Out of coal?”
    “We thought we had enough. My husband’s bringing more when he comes, but I had to use the last this morning.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, sir. I hate to beg help of anyone. But Bennie and I prayed. We asked God to make a way, and then Bennie saw your truck stop on the road. Please, just make us a fire, if you will. There’s more wood in the barn, but it needs to be split. I was going to get it, but I fell on the ice this morning. I’ve tried, but I can scarcely bear any weight—”
    One of the children in the next room wailed.
    “I had to put them to bed,” she explained. “All wrapped in blankets. It was the only way I knew to keep them warm. And they’re so uncomfortable with the pox . . .”
    She started trying to get up, but the pain was obvious. So was the strain of all this in her face.
    “I been bringin’ in what wood I could,” the little boy told me with tears in his eyes. “But . . . but the little pieces is all gone, and I can’t lift the big ones.”
    “Please,” the mother begged again. “Please just make us a fire.”
    She looked awful, like the wear of this was already far too much on her. And she had a bad sprain of the ankle. That was really clear. They were in awful shape.
    “I’ll make a fire,” I reassured her. “Don’t try to get up. Your big boy and I’ll bring the babies in to you once it’s going good and startin’ to warm in here.”
    I headed out straight for the barn.
    “Bennie, go . . . go and help him,” I heard that mother call behind me. And I wondered about a father who’d leave his family in such a mess, but maybe he didn’t have any notion that all this was going to happen. Wouldn’t do for me to judge without knowing the matter straight.
    Bennie showed me to the ax, hatchet, and handsaw, all of them badly in need of sharpening. And there was plenty of wood, all right. Most every bit of it needing split. From the other end of the barn, I heard a cow lowing. But I ignored it and started in immediately, dull ax and all, to split some of the driest stuff I could find, to get the quickest fire I could with only a little kindling.
    I’d have to split more for them. And carry plenty in. No doubt about that, but I stopped for now with just enough to get the fire blazing. The little boy helped me carry what he could, so we both went back inside with our arms full. One of the other children was up. A redheaded girl with hundreds of spots. I guessed her to be five or six years old, and she was absolutely