Rainwater Read Free Page B

Ella shouted above Solly’s screams. “There’s ice in the box. A whole block delivered just this morning.”
    She and Dr. Kincaid continued to struggle with the boy to keep his burned arm under the gush of cold water. Ella splashed handfuls of it onto his shirt, trying to neutralize the starch that was burning him through the thin fabric.
    None of this was easily done. They had to battle Solly, whose right arm was flailing about, often connecting painfully with either Ella or the doctor. The boy was also trying to butt heads with them and kicking his feet. Several pieces of crockery and china were knocked off the drainboard and onto the floor, breaking in the widening puddle of starch.
    “This will help.” Mr. Rainwater moved up beside Ella with a chunk of freshly chipped ice. While she and Dr. Kincaid held Solly’s arm as still as possible, Mr. Rainwater rubbed the ice up and down her child’s arm, which now bore ugly red splotches.
    The ice cooled the burns, and eventually Solly stopped screaming, but he continued to bob his head rhythmically. The doctor turned off the tap. Ella noticed that the sleeves of his coat were wet to his elbows and realized that her apron and dress were drenched as well.
    “Thank you.” She took what was left of the chunk of ice from Mr. Rainwater and continued to rub it up and down Solly’s arm as she carried him to a chair and sat down with him on her lap. She hugged him close and kissed the top of his head as she cradled him tightly against her chest. Even then it took several minutes before he stopped the rhythmic bobbing of his head.
    From the open doorway, the two Dunne spinsters cooed commiseration and encouragement.
    Margaret was holding the hem of her apron to her lips with one hand, the other pink palm was raised beseechingly toward the ceiling. She was crying loudly and praying plaintively, “Jesus, he’p this poor baby. Lord Jesus, he’p this child.”
    Ella was grateful for Margaret’s prayers and hoped the Lord was listening, but the loud praying was adding to the confusion. “Margaret, please bring me one of his candy sticks,” she said.
    Her quiet tone cut through Margaret’s fervent litany. She ceased praying, smoothed her apron back into place, and went into the pantry, where Ella kept a jar of candy sticks hidden behind canisters of flour and sugar. If Solly spotted the candy, he demanded it by lying on the floor and kicking until he either exhausted himself or exhausted Ella to the point of giving in just to restore the peace.
    The candy sticks were reserved for times of crisis. Like now.
    Margaret was choking back sobs. “It’s my fault. He was playin’ there in the dirt. You know how he likes to dig with that big wood spoon? I turned my back, couldn’t’ve been more’n half a minute, to throw that bedsheet over the clothesline. Next I know, he’s in the house a-screamin’. I’m sorry, Miss Ella. I—”
    “It wasn’t your fault, Margaret. I know how quickly he can disappear.”
    Margaret muttered on about how she was to blame as she brought the candy jar from the pantry, lifted off the metal lid, and extended it to Solly. “Margaret ain’t ever gonna forgive herself for this. No she ain’t. What flavor you want, baby doll?”
    Solly remained unaware of Margaret, so Ella selected for him, a white stick with orange stripes. She didn’t hand it to him directly but laid it on the table. He picked it up and began to lick. Everyone in the kitchen sighed with relief.
    “Let me take a look at the burns.”
    “No.” Ella held up her hand to prevent the doctor from moving any closer and setting Solly off again. “The spots aren’t blistering, and the starch had been cooling for over two hours. It wasn’t that hot. When he pulled the pan off the stove and the starch splashed on him, I think it frightened him more than anything.”
    “It’s a good thing it wasn’t—”
    Miss Pearl’s comment was stopped abruptly, probably when she got an elbow