Prayers the Devil Answers Read Online Free Page A
Author: Sharyn McCrumb
all those years of being cooped up on the farm with the in-laws, I could scarcely imagine any more privacy than that.
We were happy to finally have some privacy, even after all the years that weâd been man and wife. It was better than having a kitchen all to myself.
Another disappointment for me, besides the lack of plumbing, was the fact that the house wasnât wired up for power, either, but the deacon said, âThat means there wonât be no electric bills to pay,â and Albert happily agreed with him, as if that was good news. But he wasnât the one who had to worry about keeping food cold so that it didnât spoil and poison us, and he wouldnât be lying awake nights worrying that a kerosene lantern would get knocked over and cause a fire.
Well, there hadnât been electricity or indoor plumbing at the farm up the mountain, either, so I hadnât lost anything, but I figured if Albert and Willis were handy enough to work in a machine shop, then between the two of them they could rig up some wiring for that little house. I didnât nag him about itânot too muchâbut he must have known how bad I wanted it, because two months after we moved in, Albert and Willis had the house fitted with electricity so that we could dispense with the kerosene lamps. I wanted a refrigerator, too, instead of an icebox, but I knew it would take a long time to save up for that.
The best thing about leaving the family farm was that we wouldnât have to live with Henry and his wife anymore, bumping elbows with Elva when the two of us were fixing dinner, and then Albert and me trying to keep the bed from creaking in the night. That alone was worth the move to town, and Lord knows the move hadnât been too much trouble. We had lived with Albertâs family for the whole of our wedded lives, so there had never been any call for us to buy furnitureor dishes. What little we had to take with us fit in the bed of cousin Willisâs old Ford truck, with room to spare.
Albert had started off the N ew Year with a hacking cough that kept both of us awake nights. By mid-February the cough had turned to wheezing, and his skin was hot to the touch. He was ailing for most of a week before he finally took to his bed and surrendered himself to the fever. He had not left it since.
Albert was never what youâd call hardy. Being thin as an arrow, like all the Robbins men, made him look taller than he was, and he had a narrow, bony face that made you think that if he wasnât sick, then he wasnât getting enough to eat. But that wasnât so. Albert could put away food like he had a furnace in his stomachâseconds on everything; four biscuits at one sitting; and all the chicken that was left after the boys and I had eaten our fill. Albert could go through twice as much food as I could eat, but he never seemed to keep it on his bones. No matter how much he ate he never put on any weight. I used to tell him that I could gain weight just watching him eat. Not that I was all that heavy either, being little and wiry, but I reckon that if I had tried to keep up with Albert, I would have swelled up like a toad inside of a month.
I always thought he would get heavier as he got older. People generally do. Running to fat is a bad thing to happen to most men and to all women, but in Albertâs case, I figured the extra weight might come as a godsend as he got older. His sandy hair had flecks of gray, but they didnât show much. Being so thin made him look younger.
Sometimes he would moan in a fever dream, and I would try to talk to him. When I ran out of things to say, Iâd sing, âAbide with me; fast falls the eventide . . .â It was Albertâs favorite tune. I know that the words of that old hymn were meant to be spoken to the Lord, but when I sang it then, I was really pleading with Albert himself . Abide with me.
He seemed to turn toward me, just ever so slightly
We were happy to finally have some privacy, even after all the years that weâd been man and wife. It was better than having a kitchen all to myself.
Another disappointment for me, besides the lack of plumbing, was the fact that the house wasnât wired up for power, either, but the deacon said, âThat means there wonât be no electric bills to pay,â and Albert happily agreed with him, as if that was good news. But he wasnât the one who had to worry about keeping food cold so that it didnât spoil and poison us, and he wouldnât be lying awake nights worrying that a kerosene lantern would get knocked over and cause a fire.
Well, there hadnât been electricity or indoor plumbing at the farm up the mountain, either, so I hadnât lost anything, but I figured if Albert and Willis were handy enough to work in a machine shop, then between the two of them they could rig up some wiring for that little house. I didnât nag him about itânot too muchâbut he must have known how bad I wanted it, because two months after we moved in, Albert and Willis had the house fitted with electricity so that we could dispense with the kerosene lamps. I wanted a refrigerator, too, instead of an icebox, but I knew it would take a long time to save up for that.
The best thing about leaving the family farm was that we wouldnât have to live with Henry and his wife anymore, bumping elbows with Elva when the two of us were fixing dinner, and then Albert and me trying to keep the bed from creaking in the night. That alone was worth the move to town, and Lord knows the move hadnât been too much trouble. We had lived with Albertâs family for the whole of our wedded lives, so there had never been any call for us to buy furnitureor dishes. What little we had to take with us fit in the bed of cousin Willisâs old Ford truck, with room to spare.
Albert had started off the N ew Year with a hacking cough that kept both of us awake nights. By mid-February the cough had turned to wheezing, and his skin was hot to the touch. He was ailing for most of a week before he finally took to his bed and surrendered himself to the fever. He had not left it since.
Albert was never what youâd call hardy. Being thin as an arrow, like all the Robbins men, made him look taller than he was, and he had a narrow, bony face that made you think that if he wasnât sick, then he wasnât getting enough to eat. But that wasnât so. Albert could put away food like he had a furnace in his stomachâseconds on everything; four biscuits at one sitting; and all the chicken that was left after the boys and I had eaten our fill. Albert could go through twice as much food as I could eat, but he never seemed to keep it on his bones. No matter how much he ate he never put on any weight. I used to tell him that I could gain weight just watching him eat. Not that I was all that heavy either, being little and wiry, but I reckon that if I had tried to keep up with Albert, I would have swelled up like a toad inside of a month.
I always thought he would get heavier as he got older. People generally do. Running to fat is a bad thing to happen to most men and to all women, but in Albertâs case, I figured the extra weight might come as a godsend as he got older. His sandy hair had flecks of gray, but they didnât show much. Being so thin made him look younger.
Sometimes he would moan in a fever dream, and I would try to talk to him. When I ran out of things to say, Iâd sing, âAbide with me; fast falls the eventide . . .â It was Albertâs favorite tune. I know that the words of that old hymn were meant to be spoken to the Lord, but when I sang it then, I was really pleading with Albert himself . Abide with me.
He seemed to turn toward me, just ever so slightly
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