for the job.”
She refilled his coffee mug, then her own more delicate cup. But that cup crashed to the floor when a hair-raising wail sounded in the other room.
Four
It must’ve been vinegar pie. It always gives me nightmares. Opening her eyes again, Helga Crewel felt sure the wild vision would be gone.
It wasn’t.
Even after the biggest slice of vinegar pie, she couldn’t possibly dream up anything this . . . junky. Gaudy, frivolous things that cost too much hard-earned money cluttered the room. Shelves along one wall held wood carvings. Angels – one or two would be tasteful, but nobody needed a whole host of them. A tattered rag doll slumped beside an exquisitely hand-painted china doll. Glass, ivory, and jet buttons and beads filled glass tubes . . . a few spools of ribbon and cording. Was this a dressmaker’s?
Maybe so. Her Todd was such a good son. She’d grown terribly weary on the train, and he’d no doubt considerately arranged for them to stay at a stopover and rest . I must have been utterly exhausted. I don’t recall changing into my nightgown. Her arm and leg had gone to sleep. In a second her limbs would begin to tingle with a vengeance. Wanting to stave off that eventuality, Helga buckled to the shameful temptation to roll over and laze a moment before she left the mattress.
Flipping onto her back proved difficult. Pillows abounded – even a few behind her back, of all places. Silly to have to work at such a thing, but she made it. A chandelier dangled above her head. No. Oh no. Father, don’t let this be real. She reached up to test if it truly existed, but her arm refused to budge.
Bang! The door hit the wall. Todd dashed in with a black-haired girl chasing behind. “Ma. Ma!” He cupped her face in his hands and got so close, he was all she could see. “Ma!”
It wasn’t until her lungs burned and she needed to draw another breath that Helga realized she’d been screaming.
“Shhh. Ma. Shhh. Shhh.”
“You’re doin’ a fine thing,” a twangy voice said. “Panic makes . . .” Whatever the stranger said got lost in Helga’s terrible fright.
Todd repeated the slow shushing sound, and Helga couldn’t help breathing along with him. She pulled herself together, only to burst into tears. “I can’t make my arm work.”
“I know, Ma.” He eased back and glanced off to the side.
“Don’t make her go through this again. Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.” The girl who came in with Todd stepped into view. “If it be your druthers, I’ll speak with her.”
Todd cleared his throat. “Ma, something went bad.” He halted and searched for words.
Each moment that passed without him saying something, Helga’s fears grew. A hand clasped hers and squeezed. “Mrs. Crewel, ma’am, I’m Margaret Rose.” Pretty thing had steady eyes. She mopped away the tears. “Ma’am, I need to know straight away: Are you suffering pain?”
“N-no.”
Todd let out a gust of a sigh. “God be praised at least for that.”
“Indeed!” The girl – Helga couldn’t recall her name – nodded a few times. “You had yourself a problem on the train. For now, both your left arm and leg aren’t working.”
Panic’s fingers started tightening around Helga’s windpipe again. “Leg?” She tried to move both of them. The right one bent immediately: the left didn’t budge . Dear God, please –
“I didn’t want you to find out all on your lonesome,” the girl’s comment interrupted Helga’s supplication. “I’m sorry we weren’t by your side when you awoke. There’s a more than passing fair chance a portion of the use might return.”
While the girl spoke, Helga kept trying to make her arm and leg work. Even just her hand and foot. A simple wiggle or twitch . . . Yet nothing whatsoever happened. “A chance. But how much?”
“We can’t predict such a thing.” Todd gave her shoulder an awkward pat.
“I’ll teach your son how to help keep your limbs supple,
She refilled his coffee mug, then her own more delicate cup. But that cup crashed to the floor when a hair-raising wail sounded in the other room.
Four
It must’ve been vinegar pie. It always gives me nightmares. Opening her eyes again, Helga Crewel felt sure the wild vision would be gone.
It wasn’t.
Even after the biggest slice of vinegar pie, she couldn’t possibly dream up anything this . . . junky. Gaudy, frivolous things that cost too much hard-earned money cluttered the room. Shelves along one wall held wood carvings. Angels – one or two would be tasteful, but nobody needed a whole host of them. A tattered rag doll slumped beside an exquisitely hand-painted china doll. Glass, ivory, and jet buttons and beads filled glass tubes . . . a few spools of ribbon and cording. Was this a dressmaker’s?
Maybe so. Her Todd was such a good son. She’d grown terribly weary on the train, and he’d no doubt considerately arranged for them to stay at a stopover and rest . I must have been utterly exhausted. I don’t recall changing into my nightgown. Her arm and leg had gone to sleep. In a second her limbs would begin to tingle with a vengeance. Wanting to stave off that eventuality, Helga buckled to the shameful temptation to roll over and laze a moment before she left the mattress.
Flipping onto her back proved difficult. Pillows abounded – even a few behind her back, of all places. Silly to have to work at such a thing, but she made it. A chandelier dangled above her head. No. Oh no. Father, don’t let this be real. She reached up to test if it truly existed, but her arm refused to budge.
Bang! The door hit the wall. Todd dashed in with a black-haired girl chasing behind. “Ma. Ma!” He cupped her face in his hands and got so close, he was all she could see. “Ma!”
It wasn’t until her lungs burned and she needed to draw another breath that Helga realized she’d been screaming.
“Shhh. Ma. Shhh. Shhh.”
“You’re doin’ a fine thing,” a twangy voice said. “Panic makes . . .” Whatever the stranger said got lost in Helga’s terrible fright.
Todd repeated the slow shushing sound, and Helga couldn’t help breathing along with him. She pulled herself together, only to burst into tears. “I can’t make my arm work.”
“I know, Ma.” He eased back and glanced off to the side.
“Don’t make her go through this again. Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.” The girl who came in with Todd stepped into view. “If it be your druthers, I’ll speak with her.”
Todd cleared his throat. “Ma, something went bad.” He halted and searched for words.
Each moment that passed without him saying something, Helga’s fears grew. A hand clasped hers and squeezed. “Mrs. Crewel, ma’am, I’m Margaret Rose.” Pretty thing had steady eyes. She mopped away the tears. “Ma’am, I need to know straight away: Are you suffering pain?”
“N-no.”
Todd let out a gust of a sigh. “God be praised at least for that.”
“Indeed!” The girl – Helga couldn’t recall her name – nodded a few times. “You had yourself a problem on the train. For now, both your left arm and leg aren’t working.”
Panic’s fingers started tightening around Helga’s windpipe again. “Leg?” She tried to move both of them. The right one bent immediately: the left didn’t budge . Dear God, please –
“I didn’t want you to find out all on your lonesome,” the girl’s comment interrupted Helga’s supplication. “I’m sorry we weren’t by your side when you awoke. There’s a more than passing fair chance a portion of the use might return.”
While the girl spoke, Helga kept trying to make her arm and leg work. Even just her hand and foot. A simple wiggle or twitch . . . Yet nothing whatsoever happened. “A chance. But how much?”
“We can’t predict such a thing.” Todd gave her shoulder an awkward pat.
“I’ll teach your son how to help keep your limbs supple,
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