Free The Complete Stories by Flannery O’Connor Page A

beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll do it,” she said. “We’ll make better than we’ve made any year and by spring we should have us that cow.”
    â€œYou always know how I feel, Willie,” he said. “You always have known.”
    They sat there for a long time thinking of how well they understood each other. “Finish your food,” she said finally.
    After he had eaten, he helped her take the ashes out the stove and then, in the hot July evening, they walked down the pasture toward the creek and talked about the place they were going to have some day.
    When late March came and the rainy season was almost there, they had accomplished almost more than was believable. For the past month, Lot had been up every morning at five, and Willy an hour earlier to get in all the work they could while the weather was clear. Next week, Lot said, the rain would probably start and if they didn’t get the crop in by then, they would lose it—and all they had gained in the past months. They knew what that meant—another year of getting along with no more than they’d had the last. Then too, there’d be a baby next year instead of a cow. Lot had wanted the cow anyway. “Children don’t cost all that much to feed,” he’d argued, “an’ the cow would help feed him,” but Willie had been firm—the cow could come later—the child must have a good start. “Maybe,” Lot had said finally, “we’ll have enough for both,” and he had gone out to look at the new-plowed ground as if he could count the harvest from the furrows.
    Even with as little as they’d had, it had been a good year. Willie had cleaned the shack, and Lot had fixed the chimney. There was a profusion of petunias by the doorstep and a colony of snapdragons under the window. It had been a peaceful year. But now they were becoming anxious over the crop. They must gather it before the rain. “We need another week,” Lot muttered when he came in that night. “One more week an’ we can do it. Do you feel like gatherin’? It isn’t right that you should have to,” he sighed, “but I can’t hire any help.”
    â€œI’m all right,” she said, hiding her trembling hands behind her. “I’ll gather.”
    â€œIt’s cloudy tonight,” Lot said darkly.
    The next day they worked until nightfall—worked until they could work no longer and then stumbled back to the cabin and fell into bed.
    Willie woke in the night conscious of a pain. It was a soft, green pain with purple lights running through it. She wondered if she were awake. Her head rolled from side to side and there were droning shapes grinding boulders in it.
    Lot sat up. “Are you bad off?” he asked, trembling.
    She raised herself on her elbow and then sank down again. “Get Anna up by the creek,” she gasped.
    The droning became louder and the shapes grayer. The pain intermingled with them for seconds first, then interminably. It came again and again. The sound of the droning grew more distinct and toward morning she realized that it was rain. Later she asked hoarsely, “How long has it been raining?”
    â€œMost two days, now,” Lot answered.
    â€œThen we lost.” Willie looked listlessly out at the dripping trees. “It’s over.”
    â€œIt isn’t over,” he said softly. “We got a daughter.”
    â€œYou wanted a son.”
    â€œNo, I got what I wanted—two Willies instead of one—that’s better than a cow, even,” he grinned. “What can I do to deserve all I got, Willie?” He bent over and kissed her forehead.
    â€œWhat can I?” she asked slowly. “And what can I do to help you more?”
    â€œHow about your going to the grocery, Willie?”
    Miss Willerton shoved Lot away from her. “W-what did you say, Lucia?” she