Read Online The Lightning Rule by Brett Ellen Block - Free Book Online Page A

house was painfully hot, the air stale. Edward was napping in his wheelchair, head nestled into his shoulder, and the television was turned down to a whisper. Emmett closed the door gently. At the click of the latch, Edward snapped awake. Groggy, he asked, “What’re you doing home?”
    A wet hand towel lay across his lap. It had been a compress for his head, and the ice in it had melted, soaking through to his pants and staining them embarrassingly at the crotch. Edward couldn’t feel it. He followed Emmett’s gaze to the spot.
    “It’s okay. Let me get another towel.”
    “It’s the ice,” Edward said defensively.
    “I know. It’s okay.”
    A knock came at the front door, interrupting them.
    “You expecting someone?”
    “Sort of.”
    “Sort of?”
    Emmett gave his brother a chance to cover the stain with the towel before he answered the door.
    A black woman stood on the stoop, clutching her purse in one hand, a note in the other. White hair feathered from her temples, and she wore a floral cotton dress over broad hips as well as stockings despite the heat.
    “Is this the Emmett residence?” She read the name off the note in a drummed-down southern drawl.
    “It is. Can I help you?”
    “I’m Mavis Poole. The hospital sent me. Somebody phoned about hiring a nurse’s aide.” She smiled hesitantly.
    Emmett had been expecting someone white. He was embarrassed by his assumption. The oversight was a far cry from the overt racism that spurred the riots, yet he realized that it grew from a common root. He considered apologizing to her, but there was too much to apologize for.
    The call to the hospital was the one Emmett had made after speaking to the lieutenant on the rooftop. Edward’s fall had convinced him that he couldn’t care for his brother on his own. It hurt him to admit it, and it hurt him to see Edward’s expression slide from stunned to hostile, his jaw working under the cheek.
    “Come in, Mrs. Poole. I’m Martin Emmett, and this is my brother, Edward.”
    She shook Emmett’s hand, a soft, polite grip. When she offered the same hand to Edward, he wheeled away. The back door slammed, resounding through the house.
    “Would I be right to assume you didn’t mention my coming ahead of time, Mr. Emmett?”
    “You would.” He regretted springing the poor woman on Edward.
    “No harm done, dear. I can be on my way if you think that’s best. If not,” she added, hopeful, “I’d ask if I might not sit a spell. Took me two buses to get here.”
    “Please. Make yourself at home.”
    She opted for a spot on the unused couch and perched on the edge of the cushions daintily. Emmett noticed that Mrs. Poole had a slight limp that she tried to conceal by her posture and the style in which she carried her purse. His guess, her lower back bothered her. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t pick a firmer chair.
    “I don’t move as fast as some, but I’m strong,” she said. “I’ve taken care of men as big as you, Mr. Emmett, and bigger. My late husband weighed over two hundred pounds. He lost both legs in Korea, and I learned to flip him like a pancake, so don’t mistake me for weak. I’m no stranger to hard work. I can do the job. That is, if you want me to.”
    Emmett saw in Mrs. Poole a quiet need, for a paying position or to be working, to have something to fill her days. She wouldn’t let on which. It wasn’t desperation, though it wasn’t that different. He could relate.
    “I imagine you’re no stranger to hard work either.” Mrs. Poole gestured at the badge hanging from his belt.
    “Your accent’s too nice to be from Newark,” he said, dodging a response with a compliment. “Where are you from?”
    “Swainsboro, Georgia. You heard of it?”
    “I’m afraid I haven’t.”
    “Not many folks have. When the farming dried up, my daddy moved us here, me and my ten brothers and sisters. Lordy, that practically cut the population of Swainsboro in half. For as many years as I’ve