Chapter 4
Loving Care
Meanwhile, Jim Reid, the children's father, stumbled along a side street in the town of Batesville. He was hungry, having spent his last penny on liquor, and he was feeling sick. Momentarily, the children's faces, pale and thin, appeared before him, and he murmured, "I'm gonna have to do better. I must do better for my children need me. Lola's gone now and they have nobody. Oh-h-h," he groaned as if in pain as he stumbled into a nearby alley. Taking a few steps, he fell, and feeling too weak to get up, he lapsed into a fitful sleep.
When he finally awoke, he discovered he was lying on a cot in a dimly lit room. In astonishment, he tried to get up, but was weaker than he realized, so he fell back on the cot. A man appeared in the doorway, and Jim asked, "Where am I?"
"You're with friends who want to help you," the man replied. "How are you feeling? Would you like something to eat?"
Jim looked at the man and blinked. Was this stranger actually speaking to him? Telling him he was his friend and wanted to help him? He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again to make sure he wasn't having hallucinations.
"I'm George Greene," the man stuck out his hand to shake hands with Jim. "This is my wife, Ellen." He motioned toward a lady who had followed him into the room. She had in her hand a glass of orange juice and offered it to Jim.
Jim accepted the juice as he introduced himself. "Jim Reid is my name."
Mrs. Greene smiled warmly. "Are you feeling better this morning, Mr. Reid?"
"I feel terrible, Ma'am. But don't call me Mr. Reid. That makes me feel older than my thirty-five years. Just call me Jim."
"Sure, Jim."
"How did I get here? The last thing I remember I was--" he stopped.
"My son, Alton, found you lying in the--in the alley when he came home last night," she replied hesitantly. "He summoned help and brought you here because he recognized that you needed a helping hand. Just take it easy, Mr. Reid--uh--Jim, and I will have you something to eat shortly. How about some coffee?"
"The orange juice will do, thank you," he answered gratefully.
Mr. and Mrs. Greene left his room, gently closing the door behind them. Jim tried to relax, but could not keep from turning and tossing.
"I wonder how Jimmie's making out at home," he muttered to himself, and then moaned pitifully, "My children, my children, why did I leave them? They're probably starving and with nowhere to turn for help. I can yet see Jimmie's little scared face looking up at me when I told him I was leaving. Oh-h-h," he groaned again, "what a no-good daddy I am, and what a rotten husband I made. My dear Lola, why did you leave us? If only I could turn back the pages of time, I'd do differently. Oh-h-h." He shook his head and swallowed a lump in his throat. "These memories haunt me day and night. How can I stand them any longer? If only I had a drink!" He knew he did not have a cent, but he felt he had to have a drink. "If I can just slip out of here and get to the bar, Mitchel will let me clean his place for a drink." He tried desperately to get up, but with every attempt, he would fall back weakly onto his cot. His head was spinning, his eyesight was blurred, and he felt nauseated and hot as if he had fever.
In a little while, Mrs. Greene returned with a tray of food, but he was too sick to eat. She left and returned with a glass of tomato juice.
"Here, Jim, drink this. It will help to settle your stomach. Your face looks flushed. You may have a little fever."
"I'm awfully sick, Ma'am. I don't think I can drink the juice."
"Please try. It will help you."
Jim took a swallow, but in a few minutes, it came back up. When Mrs. Greene wiped his face with a damp cloth, she noticed how warm he was to her touch. She left the room with a look of concern on her face.
Jim dropped off to sleep, tossing and turning restlessly. Upon awakening, he was crying, "I'm coming, Mary. I'm coming."
"Now, now, Jim. Take it easy there." Mr. Greene stood beside his bed along with a strange man.
"But I saw her," he cried pitifully. "She stood in the doorway and called to me. I started to run and gather her in my arms and tell her I'd never leave her again, but I stumbled and fell--I couldn't get up. Oh-h-h--" he groaned as if in agony.
"It was only a dream, Jim," Mr. Greene tried to console him.
The stranger spoke, "I believe he's a very sick man, Greene." He then proceeded to examine Jim thoroughly. When he placed his stethoscope to Jim's chest and listened, he shook his head negatively. Calling Mr. Greene aside, he spoke in subdued tones, "He has pneumonia besides other complications. It will be a long pull. And in this man's run-down condition, I'm afraid it will be a fight for his life. I'll give him a shot and leave some tablets for him to take." Then with a perplexed expression, he asked, "Who is this fellow, Greene? Where did he come from? You folk beat all I've ever seen for taking in people that you know nothing about."
"You're right, Doc," he replied. "We know nothing at all about him except his name. That is, if he told us his correct name."
"Give me a drink," Jim pleaded as perspiration stood out on his forehead and tremors racked his body. "Please, I must have a drink. I'll die if I don't get one. Please, please have mercy on me."
The doctor shook his head sadly and gave Jim a shot which soon caused him to drift off into a spasmodic sleep.
Darkness had settled when he awoke again. He tried to raise his head, but he was so weak that it fell back onto his pillow. The room swam dizzily about him, and he found it difficult to breathe.
A strange masculine voice spoke, "Here Jim, drink this juice, It will do you good." Jim opened his eyes briefly and saw a man possibly eight or ten years younger than himself. This must be Alton, the son, he guessed.
He managed to drink a few swallows as the young man held up his head. This time he was able to retain it. After a few moments, he spoke in a weak voice, "Sir, you folk are very kind to me. I don't deserve it." Breathing heavily, he continued, "When I'm well, I'll repay you. I'll get a job and straighten up my life and pay you folk for all you have done.”
With bleary eyes, he looked up into one of the kindest faces he had ever seen. The sympathetic understanding he saw there touched his heart and caused him to vow once again that he was going to get off the bottle and reform his life.
For days, he was dangerously ill, many times delirious. The craving for drink was so strong that, at times, it seemed he would lose his mind. In his battle for life and his fight against his desire for drink, the children were temporarily forgotten, but when eventually his strength and health began to return, memories also returned.
"I wish I could discuss my problems with the Greenes,” he thought wistfully, "But what would they think of me? The children might all be dead from starvation. Oh-h-h," he moaned, "these thoughts drive me crazy. Just as soon as I get my strength back, I must go back and find out for myself about my children. Maybe by some miracle, Pete or Paul might have taken them in."
As Jim continued to improve, he was able to sit in a chair for short periods during the day. One morning as he sat watching the raindrops pelt against the window pane, Mrs. Greene entered.
"Good Morning, Jim," she greeted him with her usual cheery smile. "My. it's good to see you able to sit up. You're looking great with that color in your cheeks. You must be feeling lots better."
"Much," he assured her, "thanks to you good folk. Do you have a few minutes to spare, Mrs. Greene? I'd like very much to talk to you. There are some things I'd like to know."
"Sure, Jim, I can always spare a--few minutes to talk."
Jim glanced at her as she seated herself in a chair across the room from him. She had been very good to him, as had her husband and their son, Alton. They had sat up at night with him when it was needful and had paid a doctor to treat him. They had given him special food and medicine, and courage to fight against the addiction of alcohol.
"Why did you folk take me in and care for me, Mrs. Greene? You knew I was a no-good drunk the night Alton brou
ght me home. For all you know, I may never be able to repay you a cent and you've spent much time and money on me. I've never known very much kindness in my life, and I'd like to know why you have done what you have. There's surely a reason. Do you mind explaining to me?"
"I suppose there's a reason for most everything one does, Jim, but let's not talk about it now," she said quietly while tears welled up in her eyes. She arose to go, then changing her mind, she sat down again.
"Jim," her voice quavered as she spoke, "I suppose you do have a right to know some things, but first tell me about yourself. Who is Mary? Is she your wife? You must loved her very much."
At the mention of his precious baby girl, Jim shuddered. Where was she and the other children now? Perhaps they were huddled together in the little hut, dead from starvation. He tried to answer Mrs. Greene, but words failed him. He coughed as if he were choking and then dropped his head in his hands as sobs shook his frame. When he raised his head again, Mrs. Greene was gone.
Later, when Alton came into his room, Jim was back in bed staring at the ceiling. Alton pulled his chair up close to his bed.
"Hello, old partner. How are you?" Alton greeted him.
"Hello," Jim answered. "You must be Alton."
Alton nodded briefly. "Jim," he began carefully, "Mother told me what happened today. Don't you want to tell me about it? It will help to unload on somebody. Evidently, there has been tragedy in your life. Since we have had tragedy, too, Jim, it will probably do us all good to share our troubles with one another."
Jim did not answer; he could not trust himself to speak. For a few minutes, there was silence between them. Then Alton started talking slowly and painfully.
"I was born a twin, Jim. Bud and I came along after our parents had nearly given up all hope of ever having any more children. Our sister was five when we were born. Mom and Dad loved us so very much, it was akin to worship. They gave us everything they could afford. We have never been rich, but we have never been in want of anything. My daddy has always had a good job and made good money; therefore, we were able to have just about what we wanted.
"Naturally, my identical brother and I were very close. I'm sorry to say that we didn't appreciate the things my parents did for us. We were spoiled brats, and the more we got, the more we wanted. When Bud and I were in our teens, we started running with the wrong crowd and soon we were carousing around every night and drinking. This was a great grief to my parents, but we were heedless of their warnings.
As time went on, we became hopeless alcoholics at barely twenty years of age. We lost respect for ourselves, our dear parents, our sister, and everybody else. We drank up every cent we could get our hands on. We didn't work much, but when we did, we spent every dime we made on liquor. I'm ashamed to confess it, but we actually stole money from our parents to buy the stuff.
"After our lives were completely ruined, Bud met a girl whom he fell in love with. She did not appear to be very fond of him, or so it seemed to me; nevertheless, she strung him along. He decided to quit drinking and to straighten up his life for the sake of this girl. My, how he loved her! So he stopped going to the bar with me and tried his best to get off the stuff. I saw him nearly suffer death when that craving for drink possessed him. He would walk the floor like a caged animal with the perspiration standing out on his forehead, crying and repeating over and over, 'I won't do it, I won't do it. I won't give in.'
"Well, I was mad at him because he quit running around with me, so I made it as hard on him as I could. I would torment him and tell him he wasn't going to make it. I even went so far as to hold a bottle of the stuff close to his nose, forcing him to smell it. He would grip the back of a chair, looking wild and turning as pale as death. Then I would laugh like crazy and tell him that he didn't have to suffer like that, all he had to do was to take a drink and relax.
"Oh-h-h," he moaned, "how I have lived to regret those awful scenes. How could I have been so cruel? I would give anything, even my very life, to be able to undo what I have done, but it's too late, too late--" He dropped his head in his hands and his body shook with sobs as he mentally reviewed what he had pushed into the back of his mind and tried to forget. Jim reached over and patted his shoulder, but words failed him.
In a few minutes, Alton continued, "For two weeks, he did not drink a drop and I thought he had it licked, but one day he came home staggering. When I saw him, I knew he had lost the battle. My heart sank, for more than I would ever have admitted, I had wanted him to overcome his awful addiction, realizing there was hope for me if Bud could only win the battle.
"But instead of showing my real feelings, I taunted him, 'I knew you couldn't hold out, that you are no better than I am. You are weak and spineless, Bud, old boy. I knew you'd give in sooner or later!
"He looked at me as if he hated me, and said, 'You're right, Alton. I am weak and spineless, but I no longer care. I have no reason to quit now. Laura broke off with me today, and I have no hope of ever winning her love. She was just stringing me along, when all the time her affections were set on Lee. I have lost the only girl I'll ever love,' he said bitterly, 'so now I intend to drink myself to death.'
"My heart was touched deeply by his pitiful plight and I realized at that moment how much I loved my dear Bud. I decided it was my turn to do something about my life so that I could help him. But I had waited too long. He had lost all desire to live. He would go for days without drawing a sober breath. Much of the time, he went without food. He cared nothing for his appearance. He would go for days without even bathing. He lost weight until he looked like a walking skeleton. How I longed to help him, but all the help I gave him was to drink along with him. I was so addicted, myself, that I was powerless to help anyone else. When the desire for liquor obsessed me, I forgot about Bud and could not rest until I satisfied that craving within. The few times I was rational enough to think, I felt there must be help for us somewhere, but I did not know where to find it. Because of our lack of respect for our family, and our awful behavior, our parents persuaded our sister, Rachal, to go and live with our aunt. Only God knows what we put our parents through."
Jim fought hard to control his emotions, knowing that he had fought the same battle as had Alton. He remembered, also, what he had put his dear wife and children through. Had it not been for Alton and his parents, no telling where he would be now, perhaps roaming the streets as in a drunken state, or else dead in a back alley somewhere. He wiped his eyes on the corner of the sheet as Alton continued his story.
"One night as I stumbled along a street, I noticed a light in an old building. Drawing near, I heard a young lady singing something about the love of God. As I stopped to listen, a most peculiar sensation swept over me. Deep down inside my heart, I felt that God must be the answer to our problems. If His love was as powerful as the song made me feel it was, if He loved the downcasts as the song implied, then, evidently, there was hope for even a miserable wretch like me. I tried to pick up courage to go inside the building, but it seemed as if an unseen power held me. I was unable to break loose from this invisible force that seemed to hold me captive; so, bewildered, I moved on down the street.
"I reached home and found Bud sprawled on the sofa. I tried to arouse him that I might share my experience with him. He raised up slightly, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. As I related my experience to him, he let out a hideous laugh and said, 'Boy, it's getting the best of you, isn't it? There's no help for you, Alton. You're sunk. I'm sunk. We're both goners.'
"I sank down on the floor beside him, buried my head in my hands, and wished I could die. I heard Bud clear his throat, and raising my head, I noticed him looking at me differently. A look of love and compassion had replaced the look of bitterness that I had become so accustomed to. He reached over and put his hand on my shoulder."
Alton flinched as if the pain he felt at the recollection of that scene was too great for him to bear. Jim wondered if he would be able to finish his story. He turned h
is head away from Alton, feeling his own heart would break because of the sympathy he felt for this new friend. Alton cleared his throat a couple of times and continued his story.
"Bud said, 'Alton, you deserve better than this. You could be a good boy. Why don't you go back to that place and try to find that love of God she sang about? Probably, it is just what you need.'
"Oh, the love that overwhelmed me for my brother at that moment! Enthusiastically, I jumped to my feet with a smile and new hope within. I said, 'Come on Bud, we will both go and lick this thing by God's help.' "
Jim smiled slightly. So this was how Alton had licked the drinking habit. But what about Bud? Where was he? He was anxious to hear the rest of the story. But it was not like he had expected.
"I caught him by the arm," Alton was saying, "But the tenderness had left him, and with what seemed like animosity, he slapped my arm away and ran out the door with a scornful laugh. Horror gripped my heart as I ran after him. We ran past my parents, who were sitting on the porch, without so much as a backward glance. I remember my dad calling after us, trying to stop us, but we kept running. I felt with all my being that something terrible was about to happen. I wanted to cry out to God, but I did not know how and knew He wouldn't hear me anyway. So I just ran on calling frantically, 'Bud, Bud, come back. We can't run away. Please come back, Bud.'
"As I ran along, I felt like screaming, but I kept running as fast as my half-drunken condition would permit me. I rounded a curve and there I saw him, stretched out in the street, struck by a car. I fell over his broken body, screaming until it seemed my lungs would burst. Someone tried to pull me away but I struck at them wildly with all the strength I could muster. That was the last I remembered.”