Chapter 1

The world stopped turning for a lot of people in October of 1929, but not for me. I heard Daddy and Mother talking about the stock market diving, and it sounded serious enough, but I kept getting up every morning to a nice big breakfast, a day of school, and an afternoon of chores. Besides, Daddy said President Hoover was the right man to handle such a crisis seeing as how he had handled things so well during the war and had made himself so successful. A man like that knew how to get things back in shape pretty quick, and Hoover didn't seem too worried about things, so neither was I.

But it was about that time I noticed that Daddy didn't look right. He owned the cotton gin just outside of town, and he'd been coming home from work earlier and earlier with his whole body just sagging off the bones. Even with the ginning season winding down, he seemed more tired than he should have. He'd eat half the amount of supper he used to, and after dinner he'd sit back in his chair by the fireplace and doze off just after dark. Mother would come along and help him to bed, and seeing him look so weak started to worry me.

But morning would come again, and he'd have a fire lit, the cow milked, and his Bible read before I even thought about leaving the warm covers of my bed. I'd shuffle into the family room, sit at his feet in front of the fire, and ask him what he was reading. By that time I was too big to sit in his lap, but he'd reach down with his big leathery hand and pet my hair while he read out loud. I would listen to his deep, gravely voice and imagine God himself was speaking to me.

By the end of November, I noticed some more differences. He didn't play with me anymore, didn't rough around or play ball in the yard with the boys, and one morning when I got up, Mother was coming in the door with the milk pail while Daddy's snores still rattled around in their bedroom. When I asked if Daddy was all right, she just nodded and went about her business in the kitchen.

I didn't know what else to do, so I took over the frying of the bacon so Mother could concentrate on making biscuits. We didn't say much at first, which wasn't all together unusual for us. The only talking we managed in the mornings was complaining or commanding. I guess it wouldn't be hard to figure out which of us did the complaining, and which one did the commanding.

But that morning, I didn't complain. Mother looked especially tired, and her eyes were red around the edges. I took up the last of the bacon and put it on the table just as James and Henry came trudging in from the barn smelling like they'd wallowed around with the pigs instead of feeding them. I pinched my nose and shook my head at them.

"Ya'll aren't going out in public smelling like that are you?"

James tugged a strand of my hair-they'd both learned not to swat me on the rear-and grabbed a biscuit off the stove. "What? Poor little Ruby worried we'll embarrass her in front of her friends?"

Henry laughed with him. "Maybe it's you that don't smell good, Rubes. Come over here and let me see."

I wasn't about to get near either one of them. "I don't want to smell like some pig. You better wash up before you eat."

I looked over at Mother as she set the rest of the food on the table, expecting some support. After all, she was the one who insisted everyone get clean before they touched anything on the table. But she didn't say anything. In fact, she looked like she was off in another world.

Daddy moved around in the bedroom off of the kitchen. I heard his feet hit the floor, and I guess James and Henry did too because they sobered up right quick. They headed out the back door, and next thing I heard was the sloshing of water against their faces. I waited for Daddy to come on out and eat, but the bed squeaked instead. Mother put four plates on the table and slid through the bedroom door, closing it behind her.

I crossed the dog run and went to my side of the bedroom I shared with James and Henry to gather my school things. Then I came back to the kitchen and put a biscuit and some honey in a lunch pail to take with me. With no one around, I snuck in an extra bit of honey. Just as I sat down to breakfast, Mother came back out of the bedroom and the boys came in the back door. We all sat around kind of quiet at first, and it felt like ghosts were sitting at the table with us or something. Finally James spoke up.

"Daddy's supposed to meet with Mr. Scott he want me to handle it?"

"No," Mother said. "He's determined to make it. But you'll need to take over some work around here today, so come on back as soon as you can. The wood pile needs plenty more wood."

"Yes, ma'am."

And that was it. Daddy never came out to wish me a good day, and somehow I knew not to disturb him.

The walk to school that morning was strange. It was a crystal clear day with a sky so deep blue it must have gone on forever. It was hard to enjoy the beauty of it though with the freezing wind slicing right through my coat. I couldn't remember the last time it felt this cold before it even turned winter.

Just ahead of me, James and Henry talked about how awful it was that football was over, but they were looking forward to basketball. I did my best to ignore them. Even though he'd graduated last spring, James liked to walk with me and Henry to school so he could catch up with old friends-at least that was his excuse-but I knew the real reason he liked walking with us in the mornings. Emma Ray Calhoun was sweet on James, and he went to all sorts of trouble to make sure no one knew, but I could tell he was sweet on her too. He'd walk her home from church a couple of Sundays every month, and he made sure he was extra clean on those days. That was the only clue he really gave, other than walking her home, but it was enough for me to know.

That morning when I got to school, I hung my coat in the back of the room with the rest and took my seat by the pot belly stove near the back. Miss Riley let me sit there on account she could trust me not to get too warm and fall asleep. I wasn't much for math, mind you, but I loved school. I loved the reading and the history mostly, but even the science could get me interested if it was about something foreign I had never seen, like when we studied the planets and stars. Of course, it helped that Miss Riley had a way with teaching things that made it seem like the most wonderful stories you'd ever heard. Her eyes would widen and her face would light up when she talked about George Washington sailing across the Delaware or Mowgli's adventures in the jungle. She made it come alive, and I wanted so badly to be right there in the midst of it.

The trouble with school was that eventually the lessons ended. At lunch time most of the kids in my class would go outside. The boys would play games, competing and wrestling around in front of the girls who stood off to the side jabbering away and pretending like they didn't even know the boys were there. Of course, the boys were just about the only thing the girls talked about, that and dresses or their last trip into Cullman or some other foolish thing that had nothing to do with nothing. Some days I'd sit on the steps of the school building reading the latest book I couldn't hardly put down, and other days I might sneak off to the creek. The part of it that came near the school had a beautiful, grassy spot underneath a huge oak tree, and the creek bed had lots of rocks there, so the water just chattered at me like a best friend. But it was too cold to be at the creek that day, and I didn't really feel like reading, so I sat on the steps and ate my lunch while my thoughts wandered around on the wind.

When Henry and I got home that afternoon, Doctor Fisher was talking with Mother in the living room. Just the sight of him sent a shiver down my spine and the memory of Charlie's last night on this earth through my mind. I felt my breath catch, but then Doctor Fisher smiled at me. I knew he wouldn't be smiling if something serious was wrong with Daddy, so it set me at ease, and I smiled back.

"Hi there, Miss Ruby," he said.

I shook his hand. "Hi, Doctor Fisher."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of butterscotch. I grinned and grabbed it out of his hand. He turned to Henry and shook his hand like a man while he pat him on the back.

"Henry! How's the basketball team shaping up? Ya'll ready for the scrimmage tonight?"

"Yes, sir. Those boys from Cullman won't know what hit 'em."

Henry smiled and walked over to Mother, kissing her on the cheek. She held onto him for a bit longer than usual, and it looked like she might cry for a second. That sent the uneasiness working its way back through my stomach. I looked at Doctor Fisher again. Maybe I'd been wrong. But before I could figure anything out, Mother stepped beside him and started throwing out her usual orders.

"You two need to get started on your chores if you expect to make it to the game tonight. Ruby, I need you to finish up the floors for me while I finish speaking with Doctor Fisher outside."

"Yes, ma'am."

I put my things down and went to the kitchen where the mop and tub of water waited for me. As I worked my way across the floor toward the table, I could see Mother and Doctor Fisher talking on the porch through the window. Mother put her palms to her eyes and shook her head. I worked my way a little closer to the window, and I could just make out some of Doctor Fisher's words-something about Daddy's feet getting worse and how she'd have to convince him to eat better. Mother threw her hands out to the side and groaned.

"We've tried everything you suggested as best we can. I don't know what else to do."

Doctor Fisher put a hand on her shoulder. "I know this is tough, but it's time to face the reality that he's going to lose that foot. Maybe both of them."

Mother turned away from me, so I couldn't hear what she was saying, and as I pushed my ear closer to the window, I heard a deep sigh behind me.

"What are you doing listening in on someone else's conversation?"

I whipped around to find Daddy leaning on one of the chairs at the table, his dark eyebrows pinched together into that look that usually meant I was in big trouble.

"I was just cleaning."

"Cleaning, huh? Since when do you clean windows with your ears?"

He continued giving me the look for a bit longer, but then he sighed and pulled out the chair. He fell into it like his own body weighed more than he could handle; then he slapped his thigh.

"Come here."

I thought for a second I was about to get a whipping, and he must have seen my eyes widen because he let out a deep rumbling chuckle and scratched his beard.

"Come on," he said. "You ain't in trouble, baby girl."

"Aren't," I said with a small grin. "And I'm not a little girl anymore."

He continued to smile, but he looked at me different, like he was remembering me instead of seeing me. "Just like your mother. Can't just let a man talk like he wants to. But I guess you're right. You aren't a little girl anymore. So how about taking a seat and talking with me a while like a grown up?"

I slid onto the bench nearest me and waited for him to say something. We must have sat like that for a full minute. I laced my hands together on top of the table and looked out the window.

"So how was school today?" he asked.

"Oh it was good."

"You staying out of trouble?"

"As best as can be expected."

He nodded toward the window and the front porch where I could still barely hear the voices of Mother and Doctor Fisher. "Don't go worrying yourself over things you can't control, Ruby."

I looked at him then, looked deep into those blue eyes that made me laugh nearly every day. "Daddy, are you sick?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to lose your foot?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to die?"

He leaned forward and put his hand over mine-they were still laced together on the table and were beginning to sweat. "Ruby, no one knows what God's plans may hold. I can't tell you when my time has been appointed. But no matter what happens, you can trust God to take care of you."

I guessed that was supposed to make me feel better, but all I could think about was that he didn't really answer my question. Then Mother came through the door and went straight to the kitchen without a word. She checked the fire in the stove's belly then stirred the great big pot on top. She wiped her hands on her apron and let out a long sigh that seemed to deflate her and slump her shoulders. Daddy stood and walked over behind her, and I noticed the limp on his right side. He put his hands on Mother's shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.

She turned around and pointed a finger up at his face. "Abner Graves, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. I've told you time and time again about watching what you eat."

He grabbed her finger and smiled. "And I have. We've done the best we can. The rest is up to God."

"How in God's name are we supposed to pay for surgery?"

"Don't worry, Lizzy. It'll all be fine. It was a great season, best crop in fifty years. Don't worry about the money."

He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her back. She relaxed a moment in his embrace, but then she noticed me watching them, and Mother turned back to the stove. I jumped up and grabbed the mop from the bucket, trying to rid my mind of the fear swirling around the edges. I focused all my thoughts on finishing my chores as quickly as possible so I could go to the game.

#

Basketball was just catching on in the more rural areas of Alabama, and our school in Hanceville had only had a team for a few years. I liked it better than football. For one thing, I could play basketball. James and Henry had taught me how on a basket they'd nailed to the side of our barn. Even Daddy had helped me learn how to shoot, and I was pretty good too. But he drew the line there. When the boys had friends over, and they started playing real games, Daddy would insist I go help Mother in the house. But I snuck out a few times, and I showed those boys that a girl can give as good as she gets if you just give her half a chance.

We got to the gym early on account of Henry being on the team. James was already there waiting on us with a couple of his friends, and he came over to us just as we got to the front door. He put a hand on Daddy's shoulder, and his eyebrows mashed together till his face turned almost identical to Daddy's.

"Daddy, you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine son."

Daddy stood up a little straighter, and I noticed him making more of an effort to hide the limp I'd seen earlier. James didn't look convinced.

"If you ain't feeling right, you need to stay home and rest. I can make sure Henry gets home after the game. Besides, we'll want to go out for a bit afterward anyway."

Daddy stopped walking and looked at James with that same look he'd given me at the table earlier, and James knew it as well as I did. Then he looked over at the hopeful expression on Henry's face and frowned.

"Said I'm fine. Now you go on with your friends. Henry'll just come home with us."

Henry's face fell, and James nodded before turning back toward his friends. Daddy took a few more steps and called over his shoulder as we reached the door. "Make sure you're home at a decent hour. I'll need you to start mending that fence early tomorrow."

"Yes sir," James said.

We walked into the gym, and I looked around for any of my friends that might be here early too. Henry headed straight for the cage where some of the other boys on the team were already shooting around. Daddy and Mother headed for the same spot where they always sat behind the team, but I saw Mary Doyle sitting a few rows behind that. I waved at her, and she smiled, motioning me to come up to her.

"Daddy, can I go sit with Mary?"

He grunted his approval, so I waved back at her to let her know I was on my way. Her parents were sitting beside her, but I knew her dad wouldn't be there long. He'd start his pacing and bellowing before the first quarter was through.

I climbed up beside Mary and we scooted away from her parents. "How long you been here?" I asked.

"Not long." She pushed her long brown waves behind her shoulder and glanced toward the door. I knew who she was looking for, but knew better than to mention it with her parents so close. Of course, she'd already caught the attention of the high school boys. She didn't look anything like the other girls in eighth grade, maybe because she started school late. She was almost fifteen already, and I wondered again why someone so elegant and popular would give me the time of day. Not that we were the best of friends. Outside of school, we didn't see much of each other. The Doyles went to the big Baptist church in town, and they spent most of their free time in social circles I only read about in the paper. Still, Mary was kind to me, and didn't seem as shallow as most other girls our age.

Pretty soon the game got started, and Mary and I cheered in between our chatter. Mr. Doyle began his hollering as soon as the first foul was called on his son. Matthew, like his sister and mother, had a graceful way about him. Even when he was elbowing his way to score a basket, he just looked so natural and fluid.

"What's Matthew planning on doing after graduation?" I asked.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Don't you start too. That's all anybody in our house can talk about these days. Daddy insists that he goes to college and learn something useful, but Matthew just wants to play ball."

"Basketball?"

"Basketball, baseball, football; you name it. He just wants to play. But Daddy says he's dreaming."

I watched him run down the court, watched the intensity in his eyes and the balance in his body as he changed direction on a was tall and lean, with large muscled shoulders. I remembered watching him play football and baseball, too. He was gifted. How could his daddy not see that?

Down below us, Mr. Doyle paced behind the wall of the cage behind the court, barking and clapping. He seemed as intense as Matthew, and it seemed to me he'd be supporting his dreams. But Mr. Doyle owned several businesses in town, and his older sons were already working for him. Maybe expectations were a lot heavier than dreams. I know mine seemed to float all around and never land on anything solid.

I started to turn back to Mary to get more information, but just then everyone in the whole gym gasped. My gaze shot immediately over at Daddy, expecting to see him laid out on the floor, but he was standing next to Mother looking all worried at the court. My next thought was for Henry, and I found him in the crowd of players gathering underneath the basket furthest away from us. One of the players waved Coach Rayburn over, his face stricken with worry. I tried to get a glimpse, but then I saw Mr. Doyle run across the gym. Mary and I both stood at the same time, and I saw him then. Matthew was lying on the floor unconscious.

Coach Rayburn and Mr. Doyle slapped his face a few times and finally got him to come around. They lifted him off the floor and put his arms around their shoulders, then talked for a minute before they started moving toward the exit. About ten feet from the door, Matthew started coughing so bad they had to stop, and I heard another gasp from some people nearby. I tried to look closer to see what was happening, but I couldn't see anything from up in the stands. Mary headed toward the exit too, so I followed her through the crowd opening up to let her by.

Just as we got to the door, the men moved Mathhew the rest of the way out of the exit, and from what I could see, I thought he might have passed out again. Mary and Mrs. Doyle followed along behind them, clinging to each other like they might fall over if they let go. My heart thudded in my ears, and I wished I could comfort Mary. But they were gone in a matter of seconds, and I had no idea what to do.

I turned to search for Mother and Daddy in the crowd. Maybe they'd know something. As I looked around, I saw what had made those people gasp the second time. All across the floor where Mr. Doyle and Coach Rayburn had stopped with Matthew, was a large splattering of blood nearly as black as tar.

#

The ride home in the car was quiet, and it about drove me mad. I kept waiting on Daddy or Mother to ask Henry what happened to Matthew, but they didn't say anything. Mother just stared out of her window, her mouth moving silently. Beside me, Henry chewed on his thumbnail, and behind the wheel, Daddy stared intently at the road ahead. I felt like my seat might just explode underneath me if someone didn't say something soon.

"Mother, what was wrong with Matthew tonight?" I finally asked.

Her mouth stopped moving, and her eyes closed. But she didn't answer.

"Daddy?" I said. "Do you know? Henry? Did he get hit in the mouth or something?"

Henry dropped his hand from his mouth and looked at me kind of strange. "Naw, he didn't get hit by nobody. Just dropped like a sack of potatoes. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. He was coughing as he left, and I saw blood on the floor."

At that a little whimper escaped Mother. "Poor Francine," she said. "She already lost her sister and a nephew this year with T.B. Now her son."

"Now, Lizzy, don't go getting upset," Daddy said. "We don't know that's what it is."

Mother shook her head. "I know," she mumbled. "I've seen enough of it to know."

Daddy just gritted his teeth, and I tried to remember what I knew about tuberculosis. I thought one of Mother's brothers may have died from it when I was small, but I couldn't remember much. All I knew was that anyone I'd heard of having it had died from it, and that just made my heart ache inside me. I didn't know him as anyone other than Mary's big brother and one of Henry's friends at school, but he'd always seemed strong and kind. He didn't make a big deal about himself, even though he was about the most well-liked boy in school and the best athlete by far. He made good grades too. I'd never heard of him getting in any sort of trouble. It just seemed like such a shame.

"Henry?" I asked quietly. I didn't want to worry Mother any more than she was already.

He looked over at me and sighed, but it didn't seem like the kind that was angry. Just tired. "Yeah?"

"Will Matthew die?"

Henry reached his big hand over and plopped it on top of my hair. He grinned a little, which settled my stomach. "I'm sure he'll be all right. They'll take him to the fancy doctors down in Birmingham and get him taken care of."

If Henry was sure he'd be all right, then surely it was true. The Doyles could afford expensive doctors and hospitals and all manner of treatment. If anyone in the world could survive T.B. it was Matthew Doyle.