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Show 21-4 At the front door we couldn't find a bell, so she knocked loudly. Then we waited, Mother half turned looking back out over the fields, I examining my shoe-tops. We waited. Mother knocked again. Then we heard the sound of footsteps and the door opening. A young woman, wearing an apron and very pregnant. "Yes?" She shaded her eyes against the bright sun. "Mrs. Crayton?" Mother asked uncertainly. "No, that's my mother." She waited. "Oh, then you're Andrew's sister. I'm Katherine Metcalf, and this is my daughter Annie." Mother smiled. "We've come about Andrew." The young woman just looked at us. Then I saw another woman come up behind her, an older woman, also wearing an apron. "What about Andrew? Who are you?" the woman asked sharply. "My husband is Andrew's doctor and we are friends of his. He is just fine. We just wanted to come and meet you." Mother's voice was gentle and soothing but I could tell she was growing impatient with standing on the hot dusty porch. "Could we come in and talk to you? We've driven all the way from town." The young woman turned and looked at her mother who shrugged her shoulders. The daughter stepped aside and Mother and I walked into the cool darkness. I couldn't see anything for a minute and held onto Mother's skirt. "Sit down," Mrs. Crayton held out her hand. Mother and I sat side by side on the couch, one like my grandmother's. The young woman went back into the kitchen and Andrew's mother sat across from us in a rocking chair. "We're doing pickles." Mrs. Crayton smoothed out her apron. Mother nodded. "That's hot work." "Yes." |
