The Healing

Chapter 47





When Violet arose the next morning, she found Gran Gran in her chair before a cold stove, Rubina’s mask in her lap. Her head had dropped to her chest.

“Gran Gran!” Violet cried out. “Are you dead?”

The girl’s outburst startled Gran Gran awake. When she looked up at the girl, she could see the forehead smoothe out and the eyes calm. “I’m all right, Violet. Just resting my eyes.”

“You been talking to Rubina?”

Gran Gran glanced down into her lap. “Rubina. Yes, I guess you can say that’s what I been doing most of the night.”

“Want me to put some kindling in the stove, Gran Gran? You going to be wanting your coffee soon, ain’t you?”

Gran Gran laughed. “Girl, I’m liking this new talking Violet. No sooner she putting words together than she’s asking what she can do for me. I might can get used to that kind of talk!”

Violet got the fire going all by herself. Gran Gran watched the efficiency of the girl’s movements, the confidence she showed in filling the pot with water from the pump and then setting it on the front eye of the stove.

At first Gran Gran guessed the girl had done these things before, but then noticed that each movement—the way she held her head and leaned one hand on the water shelf as she waited for the water to spill out; how she laid the kindling three sticks on the bottom and two across on top, and how she lit the match to a small splinter and then held it in the stove until the fire caught; the way she tapped the spoon on the table before she put the coffee in the pot; how she retied the coffee sack with a double-loop knot—were all mannerisms Gran Gran recognized as her own. The girl had been studying her close, memorizing her movements. Violet had been watching and listening in a way that would make Polly Shine proud.

Violet managed to pour Gran Gran a cup of coffee without spilling and then got herself a glass of milk from the crock. She pulled a chair up close to Gran Gran and waited.

After taking a sip of coffee and complimenting its strength, Gran Gran said, “Now you got me all pampered, I got the feeling there is something you going to ask me.”

“Gran Gran,” Violet asked, her voice solemn, “did you ever see you a real live baby being born?”

Gran Gran recognized the wonder that shone in the girl’s face. It had to be the same look she had given Polly on their walk back from Sarie’s delivery.

Gran Gran smiled. This was a much better story to tell.