“I’m not going home,” she said. “I have to stay close to Jilly.” She looked at me. “I let them take Butchie away and I never saw him again. He died without me there. At least out here I feel like I’m closer, even if I can’t see her.”
“Honor,” I said softly, “you can’t just stay out here on this bench. You can’t sleep here.”
“I’ll stay at the factory with Zeke,” she said. “I can sleep on his couch and ride with him when he comes here to work in the mornings.” She looked at me. “Maybe there’s some work I can do here?” she asked. “Something useful I could do?”
“They might need help in the kitchen,” I said hesitantly. Everyone I knew who was working in the kitchen was white. I wasn’t sure what they’d say to Honor if she offered to help.
“I could do that,” she said. “I’ll do anything to stay close.”
I looked toward the ward. The screened windows were a bit high off the ground, but there was a wooden crate nearby and I had a sudden idea. “Come with me,” I said, getting to my feet. I picked up the bag with my sandwich in it. I would have no time to eat it now, but I wasn’t going to leave it for the ants either. We walked over to the side of the building. I reached for the crate and shoved it beneath one of the windows. I tested its stability with my foot, then climbed on top of it. I had a perfect view of Jilly, asleep in her bed.
Smiling, I stepped down and motioned to Honor to climb onto the box. She held my arm for balance and peered in the window.
“Over on the right,” I told her. “Third bed down.”
I saw her smile. Bite her lower lip. “My baby,” she said, almost in a whisper. She rested one hand against the screen. “I love you, baby.” Then she looked down at me. “A nurse just did this to me.” She whisked her hand through the air in a “scat” motion.
I laughed. “Ignore her,” I said, helping her down from the box. “You’re not doing any harm.” I would have a word with the other nurses. I could see no problem with allowing parents to see their children through the windows.
“Thank you,” she said, looking directly into my eyes, and I thought it was the first time she’d truly made eye contact with me. She was always so chilly when I was around. I knew why, of course.
“Honor,” I said, needing to clear the air, “I know you were Lucy’s friend. I wish there was something I could do to bring her back.”
A shadow passed over her eyes again. “You just take care of my Jilly for me, all right?” she asked.
“I will,” I said. “I promise.”
65
Henry drove me home from the hospital that evening. I couldn’t have said which of us was more grimy and tired. In the car, I told him about Jilly’s admission, but he’d already heard about it from Zeke. He just shook his head wordlessly as I described her condition.
“Hard to believe in God sometimes,” he muttered finally.
“I know,” I agreed. This past year, I sometimes felt as though God had fallen asleep on the job.
When we arrived home, Ruth was in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea.
“Hattie’s chicken and dumplings is in the refrigerator for you,” she said to us, “but first, you both get upstairs and wash that blasted hospital off yourselves before you sit at my table.”
“Nice to see you too, Mama,” Henry said sarcastically, clearly annoyed as he walked past his mother toward the hallway. “Do you want the tub first, Tess, or can I take a quick shower?” Neither of us seemed inclined to use Lucy’s old bathroom yet.
“Go ahead,” I said, following close behind him.
“There’s a box for you in the foyer, Tess,” Ruth called after me.
The doll! What perfect timing.
The box was on the table by the front door. I sat down on the stairs and tore off the brown paper wrapping and then lifted the lid of the white box. There she was, an adorable doll a bit over a foot tall dressed in a ruffly blue gingham dress, white anklets, and black Mary Janes. She looked exactly like Jilly’s beloved doll—obviously made by the same manufacturer—with the exception of her cocoa-colored skin. Her features were decidedly Caucasian. Even the molded hair had a golden glow to it, but it was as close as we were going to get to a Negro doll.
I carried the box upstairs, wondering if I should hide the doll from Henry. He’d been adamant that I stay out of Adora’s family’s lives, but having Jilly as my patient changed everything, at least in my opinion. Of course, I’d asked Gina to get the doll long before Jilly had been diagnosed with polio. I set the open box on the dresser in full view, and when Henry walked into the room, his hair wet and his navy blue robe tied around his waist, he stopped short.
“What the hell is that?” He pointed toward the doll.
“I ordered it for Jilly,” I said, then rushed on. “Don’t be angry. I know you said you don’t want me to do anything for that family, but I couldn’t resist this, Henry. And now Jilly’s losing that doll she loves—she’s losing all her toys—and this is just perfect, don’t you think?”
I expected him to chew me out. Instead, a smile slowly spread across his face. “She’ll like it,” he said, crossing the room to the armoire. He opened the door. Searched through his shirts. “And the bathroom is now yours.”
*
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Honor said the next morning when I sat next to her on the bench to show her the doll. I thought it was as close as she had come to smiling since bringing Jilly into the hospital. She fingered the hem of the gingham dress, then looked at me. “I can’t believe you did this for her,” she said. “Thank you.”
True to her word, Honor seemed determined to spend all her time at the hospital. She rode in with Zeke early that morning and she’d talked someone in the kitchen into letting her work there in the afternoons. Jilly was still very tired, but her fever was slowly coming down and Dr. Matthews seemed even more certain that she had a mild case of the disease. Still, he was watching her carefully. Sometimes mild cases of polio improved for a few days, then suddenly turned deadly serious. He didn’t expect that to happen with Jilly, but he didn’t want to let her go home prematurely.
Honor touched the doll’s little white sock and gave me a worried look. “Won’t the doll have to be destroyed when Jilly gets better?” she asked.
I’d thought of that myself. The doll would need to be disinfected before it went home with Jilly. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.” I placed the lid back on the box. “Would you like to watch through the window when I give it to her?” I asked.
She nodded. “I would.”
I stood up and she grabbed my free hand.
“You’re a kind person,” she said.
I squeezed her hand. “I’ll let you know when I have a break to give her the doll,” I said. Then I left her on her bench to stay as close as she was able to get to her baby girl.