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use their telephone,” said Junior.
    We hurried to the back door and went inside. “Anybody home?” yelled Junior as he run through the kitchen. The Hinkle sisters’ kitchen was just like always. The countertops and stove was spotless. The plants on the windowsill was cheerful. Everything was in its place and quiet as midnight.
    We kept going into the dining room. Junior grabbed the heavy black telephone off the little table so fast the cord drug the white lace doily onto the floor. I sunk into the chair beside the telephone table.
    Junior dialed the operator. “I need Dr. Johnson,” he said.
    A clock on the wall tick-tick-ticked, bragging on how much precious time was slipping by.
    Finally Junior handed me the telephone. A lady asked how could she help me. I told her about Bobby collapsing in the garden. But it seemed like she couldn’t understand.
    “Slow down, honey,” she said.
    But I knew we didn’t have no time to waste. I told her what happened to Bobby and how we didn’t have a car to take him to the doctor’s. She put Dr. Johnson on the telephone and I had to tell it all over again. He said he would send an ambulance. I give the receiver to Junior so he could give directions.
    I put my head down on the telephone and my tears run down over the numbers on the dial. “He’s only four years old,” I moaned. “And I made him work even when he saidhe was sick. Oh, Daddy, I should’ve let him play.”
    The next thing I knew, Junior was pushing a glass of water to me. “Here, Ann Fay,” he said. “Drink this water and calm down. Everything will be all right.”
    But I knew he was just saying that to get me through. I knew nothing was ever going to be all right again.

6
Epidemiologists
    June 1944
    We crowded around Bobby while we waited for the ambulance. He was laying on the couch with his head on Momma’s lap, still as a stop sign. Not even his eyes was moving.
    “He’s dead,” wailed Ida.
    “No,” said Momma. “He’s still breathing—and feel how warm he is.”
    I grabbed ahold of his hand and it was hot. But I was cold—shivering and shaking and my teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. It seemed like we was all shivering and huddling up to Bobby like he was a woodstove in the middle of winter. I forgot all about how it was a hot day.
    Junior kept walking to the window to look for the ambulance and then coming back to offer us a drink of water. Or to touch Momma on the shoulder like he wanted to take Daddy’s place but didn’t know how.
    And I for sure didn’t feel like the man of the house.
    Finally we heard a car. Junior run to the window and said, “Somebody’s here. But it’s sure not an ambulance.”
    Momma picked Bobby up and carried him out on the porch, and we all followed. Then I seen what Junior meant. It wasn’t an ambulance. It was a hearse.
    Momma cried, “No! Oh, dear God, no.” She turned to go back in the house.
    By that time the driver had backed up to the steps and was climbing out of the hearse. “Don’t let it scare you, ma’am,” he said. “There’s a shortage of ambulances, what with the war taking so many and now the epidemic. Sometimes this is the only way we can get a child to the polio hospital. But it can save your boy’s life just as good as an ambulance.” He opened the doors in the back, and inside was a low bed.
    Junior put his hands on Momma’s shoulders and turned her around. “It’s okay,” he said.
    The driver come and tried to take Bobby from Momma, but she held on tight. “Ma’am, you can come along with him. Is there anything you want to get, in case you need to stay a few days?”
    Momma shook her head and I knew she wasn’t thinking straight. If she was, she wouldn’t want to be seen in her everyday dress and apron. So I run and got her pocketbook. And I grabbed her nightgown and housecoat from the nail on the back of her bedroom door. Daddy had took our suitcase off to the war, so I pulled the pillowcase off her pillow and stuffed