I stood and stepped back, knowing Alonzo wouldn’t.
He bent over and kissed Retta’s ashen forehead and whispered a sparse prayer, then glided the back of his rough hand down her cheek and said a final goodbye. I watched as Alonzo hobbled out the door and on to one of his monthly tears around town.
“Retta,” I whispered urgently, going back to her side. The old woman fluttered her eyelids, then opened them. She raised a crooked finger and I drew closer.
“It’s me, Retta.”
“Iffin that’s my prettiest petunia”—she coughed weakly—“fetch me my glasses, child.”
I searched the one-room cabin and found them under fabric stacked up on a chair. “Here, Retta, let me help.” I put them on her, making sure they didn’t pinch her ears or nose.
“Child, get me the dress in my chest over there.” She motioned toward a large trunk.
“Retta, you need to rest in your gown—”
She shook her head. “It’s ’portant I dress.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I opened the lid and pulled out a deep-burgundy velvet dress and held it up.
“That’s it,” she said hoarsely. “Help me into it, child?”
I wondered why Retta would want to wear this now, but I didn’t want to upset her by questioning her. “Yes, ma’am.” I sat Retta up in the bed and carefully dressed her. The dress was beautiful with long sleeves, a smocked bodice, and a fancy sash. I buttoned up the back, admiring the twelve tiny buttons covered in velvet. “Sure is pretty on you,” I said, tying the sash.
“Sewed this ’un to kick up my heels with the angels,” Retta said as I gently laid her back on the bed.
My eyes blurred, and I took her hands in mine, looked into her weak, red eyes, and said, “It’s a fine dress you sewed, Retta. Beautiful.” My voice broke and a sob slipped out. “This workmanship is better than any I’ve seen in magazine advertisements for store-bought, Retta.”
She met my eyes. “Don’t be sad, child. Ain’t long for this world, but I can leave it now, knowing you’re safe an’ ya have a home.” She swallowed hard to catch her breath. “Signed over my deed to Alonzo and tol’ him you’re to always have a place here. He’s promised to honor my wishes and pass the deed on to you when you come of age to own real proper-tee.” She swallowed the last word.
The candles flickered, and the light chased webbed shadows around the darkened cabin. “Retta, thank you, but don’t say such. You have to get stronger,” I whispered, looking around for anything to comfort her. “Want some tea? Can I read to you?”
She lifted a weak, toothless grin. “I still like mine best. Fetch it for me, child, like your sweet mama always did.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I picked up Retta’s Bible from the table, dragged a chair over to her bed, and read.
The frontier nurse slipped back in and checked Retta’s pulse as I waited across the room. The nurse looked at me and sadly shook her head. “I’ll be going on to my other patients. There’s a family in the next holler that’s been struck with the fevers, and another whose children have come down with the worms. Are you okay to sit with her, Honey?” Amara asked.
I looked back over her shoulder at a frail Retta swathed in her fine funeral dress and choked out a yes.
“Just keep her comfortable and warm,” she said kindly as I followed her onto the porch, the damp of fog and darkness cloaking the tiny cabin.
“I will. Obliged, Amara.”
“The Smiths said you were looking for a ride to the city?” Amara asked.
“I need to visit my parents in La Grange and Pewee Valley prisons.”