We were at the breakfast table one morning when Dad rubbed his tired eyes and informed us of something incredible. "Cathy, you're not going to believe this, but the lab technicians found something odd in the culture they took from Bart's wound. We suspected rust; they found rust, which caused the tetanus, but they also found the very kind of staphylococcus often associated with fresh animal feces. It's truly a miracle Bart still has both of his legs."
Looking pale and tired enough to be sick herself, Mom nodded before her head bowed weakly to his shoulder. "If Clover were still around, I'd easily understand how he might--"
"You know how our Bart is. If anything filthy is within a mile he'll be the one to step on it, crawl in it, or pick it up and check it over. You know, when he kept on raving last night about apples I gave him one I'd bought and he let it fall to the floor, showing no interest." Mom closed her eyes while he went on stroking her back and talking. "When I told him we weren't flying East I could tell he was pleased." He looked my way. "I hope you're not too disappointed, Jory. We'll have to wait until next summer to visit your grandmother, or maybe this Christmas I can get away."
I was thinking mean thoughts. Bart always got what he wanted. He'd figured out a sure way to avoid visiting "ole" graves and "ole" grandmothers. He'd even given up Disneyland. And it wasn't like Bart to give up anything.
That evening I was with Bart alone, and Mom and Dad were in the hospital corridor talking to friends. I told Bart about the conversation I'd overheard between the old lady and her butler. "There they were, Bart, both of them on her terrace. She was so worried about you."
"She loves me," he whispered proudly, his voice very faint "She loves me more than anybody," and here he looked thoughtful, "except perhaps, Apple."
Bart, I thought, don't think like that. But I couldn't speak and steal his pride in having found love outside his family. With mixed emotions I watched his expressive face, my own emotions a tumble of uncertainty. What kind of kid brother did I have? Surely he had to know his parents would love him more than anyone else.
"Grandmother is afraid of that ole butler," he said, "but I can handle him good. I've got hidden powers, real powerful."
"Bart, why do you keep going over there?"
He shrugged and stared at the wall. "Don't know. Jus' wanna go there."
"You know that Dad would give you a dog, any kind you want. All you have to do is ask, and he'll give you a puppy just like Apple."
His fierce, angry eyes drilled a hole in me. "There ain't no other dog like my puppy-pony. Apple is special."
I changed the subject. "How do you know that woman is scared of her butler? Did she tell you?"
"She don't have to tell me. I can jus' tell. He looks at her mean. She l
ooks at him scared."
Scared, the same way I was beginning to look at just about everything.
Homecoming
. Nice the way Momma kept fussing over me. Wouldn't last. She'd change as soon as I got well. Two long long weeks in this stinking hospital that wanted to take my leg and burn it in their furnace. Made me happy to look down and see my leg still there. Boy, just wait until I went back to school and I told them how I nearly had an "amputated" leg. They'd be impressed. Was made of good stuff that refused to rot and die. And I hadn't cried. Was brave too.
I remembered how Daddy hovered over me, looking sad and worried. Maybe he really did love me even if I wasn't his own true son. "Daddy!" I cried when I saw him "You got good news, I can tell."
"It's nice to see you bright and happy-looking." He sat on the side of my bed and pulled me into his arms before he gave me a big kiss. Embarrassing. "Bart, I have great news. Your temperature is normal. Your knee is healing nicely. But being a doctor's son has a few advantages. I'm signing you out today. If I don't I fear you'll fade away to nothing. Once you're home I know Emma's delicious food will soon put some meat on those bones."
He looked at me in a kind way, like I really mattered just as much as Jory; it made me want to cry. "Where's Momma?" I asked.
"I had to get away early, so she stayed home to arrange a special homecoming party for you--so you really can't mind, can you?"
Could so! Wanted her here! Bet she didn't come 'cause she had to fiddle around with that lil ole Cindy, putting ribbons in her hair. I kept my silence and allowed Daddy to carry me out to his car. Felt good to be out in the sun, going home.
In the foyer Daddy stood me on my wobbling legs. I stared at Momma, who went first to Daddy and kissed him on the cheek--when I was there, wanting to be kissed first. I knew why she'd done that. She was afraid of me now. She saw my skinny body, my ugly, bony face. She was forcing herself to smile when she looked my way. I cringed when she finally came my way to do her duty to her son who hadn't died. Look at her fake happiness. I knew she didn't love me, didn't really want me anymore. And there was Jory too, smiling and pretending he was happy for me to be home again when I knew, all of them would have been glad to see me dead. I felt like Malcolm when he'd been a little boy, unwanted and unneeded, and so darn miserable.
"Bart, my darling!" said Momma. "Why do you look unhappy? Aren't you glad to be home?" She gathered me in her arms and tried to kiss me, but I yanked away. Saw her hurt face but that didn't count. She was only pretending, like I had to pretend all the time.
"It's so wonderful to have you here again, sweetheart," she went on with her lies. "Emma and I have been busy all morning planning just what we can do to make you happy. Since you complained so much about the awful hospital food, we've made all your favorite dishes." She smiled again and reached once more to hug me, but I wasn't gonna let her get under my skin with her "feminine wiles" John Amos had told me about. Good food and smiles and kisses were all parts of "feminine wiles."
"Bart, don't look so skeptical. Emma and I did fix every one of your favorite dishes." I stared at her. She turned red, then said with an effort, "You know, the ones you like best."
She went on forcing herself to be nice as Daddy came up and gave me a short cane. "Bear most of your weight on that until your knee is stronger."
Kinda fun hobbling around like an old man, like Malcolm Foxworth. Liked having them fuss over me, worried when I wouldn't eat. None of the presents they had for me were as good as what my
grandmother next door would give. "Good gosh, Bart," whispered Jory during dinner, "do you have to act so ungrateful? Everybody went to an awful lot of trouble to please you."