“Don’t worry,” he said to her. “I’ll let them know.”
The Baptist church was filled with excited, anxious parishioners by the time Ruth, Lucy, and I arrived. People kept coming, pouring through the doors, hugging one another as they crowded in. They brushed tears from their cheeks, and I knew that for those who had lost loved ones, the morning was bittersweet. I felt the joy and sorrow, fear and hope in every one of our hearts.
I pressed my hands together and bowed my head. Until today, my prayers had felt weak and empty in this sterile church, but today I lifted them up, one with my neighbors, as we all prayed for the same thing: victory.
49
In the days that followed D-day, a confusion of emotions reigned in the town. Excitement and cautious optimism were tempered by grief, since one local boy was among the casualties and the blue star that had hung in the window of his family home changed to gold. But the town was also gripped by fear that had nothing at all to do with the war. There was no way around it: Catawba County was in the middle of a polio epidemic that felt more immediate, more real, than anything that might be happening in Europe. New cases were reported every day and the hospital in Charlotte overflowed with sick children. People were frightened, many of them avoiding movie theaters or restaurants where they might come into contact with carriers of the virus. The county health officer, Dr. Whims, had become a household name. We constantly heard his voice on the radio and saw his picture in the paper as he struggled to be a calming influence.
“Community hysteria doesn’t help at all,” he said in a radio broadcast, right after he informed us that children twelve and under were now barred from public places. Parks and pools were closed, and although the cause of the epidemic was unknown, Dr. Whims warned parents not to let their children drink unprocessed milk or play in the creeks. “Repair your window screens,” he said, “and do everything possible to control flies.” Many of the women in Ruth’s circles, those who had children or grandchildren and means, escaped to their mountain or lake homes. Hickory had a ghost-town feel to it without the laughter of children.
At church that Sunday, Ruth stood up to make an announcement. “Most of you probably remember my former maid Adora Johnson,” she said, and heads bobbed throughout the church in recognition. “Well, Adora’s grandson was one of the first to succumb to this infantile paralysis that’s affecting so many children of lesser means.”
I was starting to detest Ruth for her holier-than-thou attitude, and I lowered my head so no one would see me roll my eyes. Surely by now Ruth had to know that the children of doctors and lawyers were falling victim to polio as quickly as the children of the poor.
“I’m taking up a collection to cover the cost of a headstone for her grandson,” Ruth continued. “Please see me after church if you’d like to contribute.”
*
“Thirty-eight dollars,” Ruth said half an hour later when we’d piled into the Cadillac for the ride home. She sat in the front seat next to Henry, counting the bills and coins in her lap. “They can get a nice little headstone for that,” she added. “Perhaps I can get the money to them this week, once the quarantine is lifted. They must be going stir-crazy over there.”
“We could take it over now,” Lucy suggested. “Drop it off on the porch with a note, like I did with the ham?”
“Nicer to do it in person,” Ruth said.
I would run this conversation over in my mind repeatedly in the weeks that followed. If only we’d taken the money to Adora and her family then.
If only.
PART TWO
50
June 15, 1944
Dear Gina,
Lucy is dead. She’s dead and it’s my fault. My hand’s shaking so much as I write this … I hope you can read it. I haven’t been able to stop shaking since it happened. Lucy died right before my eyes and I’ll never get over seeing the horrible terror in her face. That poor girl! Oh, God, Gina, how am I going to live with myself after this??
It was an accident. Henry told me never to use his Buick because the tires were bad, but I thought it would be all right for a short trip. So foolish of me! Lucy and I wound up in the river, water rushing through the windows. It rose so quickly, Gina! When I shut my eyes, I still feel it rising up my body. I was able to get out, but Lucy’s legs were pinned. Maybe if I hadn’t panicked, I could have saved her? I don’t know. All I know is that I’ll never be able to stop thinking about her face as the life left her eyes.
I hardly remember anything that happened after the accident. I was unconscious and when I came to, an ambulance had arrived and I heard the driver say I was in shock. I thought he’d take me to the hospital, but I ended up in the police station. I sat there wrapped in a blanket for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only minutes. I was shivering so hard, my teeth chattered and I bit my tongue. I kept asking if they’d managed to save Lucy. I knew in my heart she was gone, but I kept asking and hoping and … I think I lost my mind for a while, Gina. Even now, I know I’m not thinking straight. Anyway, no one would answer me. I felt as though I were speaking from inside a bubble, I was so numb and dazed. I could hear the policemen talking to each other, but not to me. One of them was that Teddy Wright, the policeman I thought was following me when I first moved to Hickory, remember? He was a friend of Lucy’s and very upset. I felt so cut off from everyone. I didn’t know how I was going to face Henry or Ruth.
When Henry got to the police station, I started sobbing and shaking even harder. He barely glanced at me, then turned away as if I were invisible. Teddy and two other policemen approached him. One of them put his arm around his shoulders, while I sat alone in my wet clothes, trembling and racked with guilt. Then Henry said we were leaving. He was so angry. He walked ahead of me and I followed him out to the car. I was sobbing. I don’t think I’ve stopped crying for more than a few minutes since it happened.