Legacy of Love. Christine Johnson
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He’d stormed to the car, and, after several misfires, finally got it started. To be honest, he hadn’t even looked for traffic before inching forward. Then he pressed hard on the accelerator, anxious to leave this debacle behind.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. At first, it didn’t register. Then he realized Mrs. Simmons was waving at him. She stepped into the street, and her feet shot out from under her. Down she fell, directly in front of his car.
He swerved and applied the brake, but the road was icy, and the tires skidded.
Please, no. Not again.
Every detail of the war came back. The acrid smell, the dull thud of artillery in the distance, the sharp fear. He’d led his men into the shelled town as directed. Nothing lived there, not even grass. Mud had swallowed the streets. Artillery had demolished the buildings. It had looked like hell, felt like hell, and would surely be his hell for all eternity.
A slight movement to the right had caught his attention. He’d turned, expecting to see the commander he was supposed to meet. Instead, shells rained down. His men scattered. He yelled for them to retreat, but they either could not or would not hear. Helpless, he watched as one by one they fell.
Just like Mrs. Simmons.
* * *
Anna screamed, unable to move.
Her mother was going to die, just like Papa had died all those years ago. She’d watched him working on a truck from her hiding place in the pile of tires. Only his legs showed. He lay under a truck that was up on a jack, its wheels off on that side. He yelled for Mr. Thompson, but his fellow mechanic wasn’t there, and for a second Anna almost went to him. But she was supposed to be in school, and if she helped him, he’d know she’d skipped class, so she stayed in the tires.
He banged again, and the jack collapsed. The truck fell to the ground. Papa cried out. Once. Then silence. Just a pool of red running out from under the vehicle.
Not again.
The car’s brakes squealed. The wheels locked and the vehicle skidded. Closer and closer it came until Anna knew Ma would die.
She closed her eyes and turned away. She couldn’t watch. But then, just like when Papa died, she looked back. She had to look. She had to know.
This time, she didn’t see the pool of red blood. The car shuddered to a stop mere feet from Ma.
Thank God. Anna breathed out in relief. Then she noticed her mother wasn’t moving.
Brandon flung open his door and clambered out. He lost his balance and grabbed the car for support. Spotting Anna, he yelled, “Call for a doctor.”
A doctor? Anna’s heart stuck in her throat. Ma must be hurt. Or worse. Fear froze her to the stoop as Brandon inched forward on the icy road. She couldn’t move and couldn’t stop watching.
At last he reached Ma. While holding onto the car’s hood, he leaned over and extended a hand. When she reached up, Anna breathed again. Ma hadn’t died. She was just hurt.
Brandon took Ma’s hand and attempted to help her to her feet, but they both fell. At last, Anna found her legs.
“Ma!” She hurried across the yard and onto the street. “Are you hurt?”
Her mother’s face was pale as snow, but she still managed a smile. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make more trouble for you.”
Anna could have wept. She was the one making trouble. If not for her foolish pride, Ma would never have run after Brandon.
He took command. “Let’s get her into the house. You take the right side, and I’ll take the left. I believe your mother hurt her leg.”
Though Ma fussed that she was fine, she winced when Brandon started to lift her. He stopped, but she urged them on. “It’s nothing. Just an old woman’s aches and pains.”
Anna hated to hear her mother call herself old. “You can make it, Ma.”
Together, she and Brandon managed to get Ma to her feet.
“Use my cane to steady yourself.” Brandon pushed the walking stick into her hand. “Don’t put any weight on your injured leg.”
Anna held her mother around the waist while Brandon propped her up with an arm under her shoulders. As they moved toward the house, his hand accidentally brushed Anna’s neck, and she shivered, but not from the cold.
By the time they reached the stoop, the neighbors had arrived, and Peter hurried over from the garage. He took over Anna’s position, and the two men got Ma into the house.
“Miss Simmons, I suggest you call a doctor,” Brandon repeated as they settled Ma on the living-room sofa.
He’d asked her to do that earlier, when she froze. But she couldn’t call. They had no telephone.
He mistook her lack of response. “If it’s a matter of cost, I’ll pay the bill.”
She shook her head and asked Peter to make the call from the garage. He hurried off while Anna fetched a blanket and a cup of hot tea.
“Stop fussing, dear,” Ma chided as Anna wrapped the blanket around her. “I’m quite all right.”
“You haven’t moved your left leg,” Anna said. “Does it hurt?”
Ma sighed and leaned her head back. “Not much at all. Just give me a moment to collect myself.”
Brandon motioned for Anna to join him at the front door, within sight of her mother yet beyond earshot. “I believe she may have sprained or broken her ankle.”
Anna’s heart still thudded wildly after all the excitement, but it practically stopped at his words. She glanced back at her mother, whose face was still pale and drawn. Broken bones were not good for a woman Ma’s age. What if they never healed?
She felt a touch to her shoulder and looked up.
Brandon gazed at her with deep concern. “Don’t worry. Your mother will be fine. She’s a strong woman.”
“I hope you’re right.”
A knock on the door signaled Doc Stevens’s arrival. After a quick recounting of what had happened, he tended to Ma while Anna hovered anxiously. Ma flinched slightly when he examined her. Others might not notice, but Anna could tell she was in pain.
“No broken bones that I can discern,” the doctor said as he closed his bag. “We could get an X-ray in Grand Rapids. Are you able to make the train trip?”
“I can drive her there,” Brandon offered.
Anna shook her head. There was no money for X-rays, and she wouldn’t be beholden to Brandon Landers any more than she already was. “Will she heal if we don’t?”
The doctor nodded as Brandon quietly slipped out of the room. “Nothing’s displaced. Keep her in bed and off her feet. If she must go somewhere, use a crutch to keep all weight off the leg. No work or housework for at least a month.”
“A month?” Anna gasped. They had to move in only twelve days. How would she manage on her own? She gnawed her fingernails. Hendrick and Peter would have to help.
“It’s a good thing your house is single-story,” the doctor said. “I don’t want your mother climbing stairs.”
But Terchie’s Boardinghouse only had upstairs rooms. How could they move there if Ma couldn’t climb stairs?
“I’ve given her a sedative,” Doc Stevens continued. “If the pain gets worse, I’ll prescribe tincture of opium. Call if she develops a fever or if the swelling doesn’t go down in a few days.”
After thanking him and sending Peter back to the garage, Anna looked in on her mother, who had fallen asleep, and was surprised to find Brandon in the room. He’d closed the drapes