“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t live here anymore.”
“What?”
“They made me move out.” She harrumphed. “It’s a long story, but I was getting my medication mixed up and wound up in the hospital. Then my doctor filed a report with the county, and there was an investigation.” She put the last word in finger quotes. “A bunch of busybodies. You wouldn’t believe the brouhaha when I wouldn’t let a visiting nurse come to my house. It was like end-times in Pullman. I finally took charge and decided to move into Pine Ridge Hollow, where Howard lives, before they got some court-appointed person to take away my rights.”
“So Pine Ridge Hollow is an apartment complex?”
“An old folks’ home.” She frowned. “They like the residents to be back before dark unless you let them know in advance.”
Joe pondered this. “Are you going to get in trouble?”
“Ack.” She flapped a hand dismissively. “They have so many rules, but as you know, rules are meant to be broken. What are they going to do, say I can’t have my pudding for dessert?”
“Pearl!” Howard called from the next room, his voice thin and anxious. “We better get back. I already missed my evening medications.”
“And they’re a little hung up on the medications,” she said. “They dole them out like Tic Tacs. And then they give you the tiniest little paper cup of water. Bunch of cheapskates.”
“They did that at Trendale too,” Joe said, remembering the disposable cups that held only a sip and a half. Like someone might overdose on water.
“Did they watch to make sure you swallowed the pill?”
“Yes, they did.”
She sighed. “I hate that.”
“I hated that too.” He met her eyes, and for the first time, he felt like maybe there was a family connection. They’d bonded over having medication dispensed.
From down the hall: “Pearlie!”
“I have to go,” she said. “You’ll be fine here. I’ll come back tomorrow about nine. If you need me, dial the operator. Her name is Nellie. Ask for Pine Ridge Hollow. She’ll know how to put the call through.” She gave him an appraising look. “But you seem like a capable young man, so I doubt that will be necessary.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and I put some food in the refrigerator earlier today. There’s also some canned soup.”
“Thank you.”
“Pearl!”
“I’m coming, Howard. Hold your horses.” And down the hallway she went, her walker leading the way.
CHAPTER SIX
1916
Pearl thought that even if she lived to be a hundred, she wouldn’t forget the day John Lawrence came to stay with the family. Little did she know that his arrival would mark the beginning of the end, her life changing in so many ways, and none of them good. All she knew was that John Lawrence—an eligible young bachelor—was being delivered right to her doorstep. Even though she didn’t know what he looked like, the idea made her shiver with anticipation.
She’d known all the young men in their small town since they were practically infants, and they were essentially the only men she knew. Not being allowed to venture far from home, Pearl rarely met new people. Occasionally, someone in town would have a relative come to visit, which was always of interest, but having a young man come live with them was an event like no other. As far as she was concerned, it was the most exciting thing to happen in Pullman, Wisconsin, in a long time, maybe for years. Absolutely nothing ever changed for the better in Pullman unless you counted a new picture at the Victory Theater. Pearl and her five younger sisters had seen all the pictures, many times. Their oldest sister, Alice, was the pianist on Saturday nights, and so the owner, Mr. Kramer, let them in for free as long as they sat in the back and were very quiet.
The day John was set to arrive happened to be the twins’ birthday. Mae and Maude had turned nine that day and were so excited, Pearl could barely stand to be in the same room with them. Pearl, at seventeen, didn’t think she’d ever acted so silly, the way they skipped around the kitchen, getting in the way of Alice, who was trying to get a cake in the oven. A year and a half older than Pearl, Alice had a sweet disposition but was as dull as an old maid. By necessity, she’d taken over the household after the birth of little Daisy. At first they’d thought their mother just needed time to regain her strength, but when the baby was six months old, their mother had gotten influenza and a croupy cough, and it grew worse from there. Their mother, so beloved, faded before their eyes, finally becoming delirious with fever. For weeks, Alice tended to her, and the doctor visited daily, but nothing seemed to help. Even as much as they saw her struggle and weaken, it was a horrible shock when she died, the younger girls sobbing and wandering listlessly around the house, their father stoic but shattered. No one smiled until one day when they heard Alice singing a lullaby to the baby and little Daisy gurgling in delight.
Alice kept the household together. Ever since then, she was always on the move, going from the garden to the clothesline to the kitchen, never stopping, never resting. Even when all of them were eating, Alice buzzed around the table, filling milk glasses and making sure the serving dishes were being passed around. Her life was over before she’d ever gotten a chance to live it up, poor thing, but it didn’t seem to dampen her spirits. As she bustled around the house, she sang: folk tunes, church music, and little ditties she made up to amuse the younger girls. “My little Ally-bird,” their father called her. Alice’s voice lightened their moods every single day.
After their mother’s death, Alice never had time to talk to Pearl anymore, unless Pearl wanted to follow her around when she was cleaning out the horses’ stalls, beating the rugs, or milking the cow, which Pearl definitely did not. She missed the days when she and Alice had time to sprawl on their beds, leafing through Motion Picture Magazine, copies of which Pearl had gotten from old Mrs. Donohue. Of course, it was mostly Pearl who marveled at the pictures and read bits aloud while Alice looked on, her fingers flying as she worked on her latest knitting project, but even so, they had done it together.
Today Mae and Maude skipped around the table, laughing and singing as Alice poured batter into the buttered pans. They were identical except for their hair. Mae always had a single braid going down her back, while Maude had two pigtails. One time they’d tried switching, but halfway through the morning both had complained that their heads felt crooked, so they had Alice braid their hair once again, putting them to rights. “I wouldn’t do it,” Pearl said. “Put your foot down for once, Alice. It was their idea. Make them keep it that way, at least until the end of the day.”
Alice didn’t listen. Her hands flew through Mae’s hair, weaving the strands so fast, it would be hard to follow how it was done. She shrugged. “I don’t mind. It only takes but a minute.” When she was through tying a ribbon at the end of the braid, she kissed the top of Mae’s head. “Finished. Now you’re right as rain, my little chick.” Next, Maude settled into the chair, and Alice deftly parted her hair and braided both sides so that the twins’ identities were restored in no time at all. A kiss atop the second twin’s head, and then she ushered the two of them out the door to collect eggs.