“Your father was a farmer, Martha. No more, no less. Your momma loved him with all her heart, as she did you. She didn’t have an easy life. Harry was set against her healing, but she did it anyway. And brought you up at the same time. And look at you now! Glory be, I wish Fern were here to see you now, looking so sharp, standing in my store.”

“Mother was a healer.” A faint memory tickled at the back of her head. “You’re a very special girl, Martha. Someday everyone will find out just how special you are.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Thank you. I have to go now.”

“You’re welcome, Martha. Come back anytime.” He opened the door for her, and touched her shoulder on the way out.

When she’d gone, he sat in the folding chair he kept next to his counter and delved into memories of his youth, with a sweet-sad smile on his face.

Leon was waiting in his truck, parked in front of the bank. He sat up straight when he saw her come out of the McRae store, then reached across and opened the door for her. She got in and smiled at him.

“Leon,” she said as she opened her purse and took out the tape Mr. Hillis had given her, “is this a lot of money?”

Leon looked at the circled figure and whistled. “Yes. A lot of money.”

“Enough for new furniture?”

“Yes.”

“And a new truck for you?”

“Oh, Martha, come on.”

“I’m serious. Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

He kissed her on the cheek and put the truck in gear. Mother was a healer, she thought.

22

CHAPTER 22

Fern sat at the kitchen table, note pad and pen in front of her. The pressure inside her head was tremendous. Martha sat next to her, watching the tortured look on her mother’s face. Fern tried to think of everything she needed to teach Martha, everything she needed to know in order to get along on her own. It was a heartbreaking task.

With pictures she wrote out the recipe for a stew, and for a vegetable soup. She made grocery lists, pinning together labels from all the canned goods and things Martha liked to eat. She showed Martha how to wash clothes, rinse them well, and hang them on the line. It was hard—Martha’s attention span was so short. She had to talk quickly, with lots of action. They went to the yard to look at the vegetables and the chickens.

“Most important, Martha. Martha, concentrate. Most important, feed the chickens. The chickens gotta eat. The chickens gotta eat. If you have chickens, you have fresh meat and eggs, okay?”

At this, Martha brightened. She loved the chickens. “Okay!” she said.

Fern laughed. “Okay!”