Free At Every Turn by Anne Mateer Page B

obliged. Maybe my request would give us a common bond.
    I lifted a forkful of eggs, ready to plunge them into my mouth as soon as the words left it empty. “It’s about those children. In Africa.”
    Mother settled her napkin in her lap and added a dollop of milk to her steaming tea. “I have nothing to give you, Alyce, even if your father hadn’t forbidden it.”
    “I know, but I thought you could at least suggest ways to raise the money. You’re so good at that. How do your clubs manage to fund charitable causes?”
    “That’s different.”
    “How?”
    She sipped her tea. “Why can’t you find something more . . . suitable for your efforts? Like those poor Belgian children orphaned by the war in Europe?”
    I speared a raspberry and popped it into my mouth. “Plenty of others are championing their cause. These children in Africa have no one else. Or rather, very few others. Can’t you help me?”
    Her delicate mouth drooped before she set aside her fork. “You ought to be concerned with finding a husband before you take on other people’s problems, Alyce. I’ve tried to explain it to your father, but he cannot be convinced that you must spend more time in proximity to eligible men if you are to marry. After you marry, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to do good.”
    A bee buzzed near my ear. I wished it would jab its stinger into my flesh so I could avoid this conversation. But it bumbled away, off to find a flower to satisfy its hunger instead.
    “I’m not missing a thing, Mother. I’m working with the Women’s Mission Auxiliary at church. And there’s a social planned for later this month. I have other friends, too.” Though none you would approve of. “I’m satisfied with my life.”
    Or would be if I had three thousand dollars for the mission in the Gold Coast.
    Mother’s mouth puckered as if she’d bit into a lemon instead of a strawberry. “You know that isn’t what I mean, Alyce. On my last trip to Chicago I met several men who asked to be introduced to you. They are expecting you to accompany me next time. And I’m sure your friends from school miss you, as well. We could go up and stay for a few weeks.”
    My heart thumped against my chest as I imagined Webster’s racing car zipping around the board track just outside the city. “Actually, Mother, I think that’s a great—”
    “Ow!” Mother sprang from her chair and slapped at her neck. “Get it off! Get it off!” Slap. Slap. Slap.
    I caught her hand, held it still. A welt the size of a nickel rose red beneath her ear.
    Then her screaming stopped. Her body went limp. I caught her just before she hit the ground.
    “Mother?” I eased her to the floor of the gazebo and settled her head in my lap as a bumblebee twitched one last time on the ground beside me. Her eyes didn’t open. They didn’t even flutter. “Help me! I need help!”
    Before my shout died away, Webster lifted Mother into his arms, his eyes locking on mine. I hoped he could read my gratitude.

    I phoned the doctor. And Father. Neither hurried to Mother’s side. Smelling salts did their job, waking her to a moaning existence. Clarissa made a quick mud plaster, which I dabbed on the sting. Betsy brought Mother a glass of wine to help dull her pain.
    Her eyes closed. Her head lolled to one side. The front door opened and closed. Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs.
    “Alyce?” she groaned as Dr. Maven stepped into the room.
    “Yes, Mother?”
    She stretched out her arm. My shoulders slumped a bit as I stepped to her side, holding her hand as the doctor examined the sting.
    “Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Benson. Everyone has taken good care of you.” He patted her hand and smiled in my direction.
    “Thank you, darling,” Mother mumbled before turning her head, her face still white and pinched with pain.
    “I’ll see myself out,” the doctor whispered. “Call if you need anything more.”
    “I will.” After the front door shut and the faint chug of