Lucy nodded absently, her mind still wrapped around the image of Carter sobbing, and Lynn pulling her away from his infected tears.
“What’s going to happen to him?” Lucy asked, her voice thick with hours of crying.
“Can’t say,” Lynn answered. “Your grandma and Stebbs said they’d be by after a while. You can ask your questions then.”
“It’s not fair.”
A wry smile twisted Lynn’s mouth, and she shrugged. “What is?”
Lucy teared up again, fresh salt water burrowing new tracks over her swollen cheeks. Lynn took her hand and squeezed it. “No, it’s not fair, little one. Carter did nothing to deserve getting sick. Knowing that he killed his sister, and brought death and twisted limbs on so many, is a weight to bear.”
“I don’t know if he can take it,” Lucy said, her fear welling into a panic. “What if he—he—”
The specter of suicide, the death her own mother had chosen, wasn’t a stranger in their bleak world.
Lynn shook her head. “I don’t think he’s the type, and I’m not just saying it.”
A heavy knock on the front door reverberated through the house, up to the second floor where they sat. Lynn’s hand shot to her side, and Lucy realized she was wearing her pistol.
“It’s probably your grandma,” Lynn said, her voice tense with other possibilities. “Sit tight.”
Lynn left the room, and Lucy wiped her face on the comforter, scrubbing away the dried salt and fresh tears that had gathered. She heard muffled voices below, recognized Stebbs’ low drone, along with Vera’s comforting tones. Three pairs of footsteps came up the stairs, and Lucy lengthened the wick on the oil lamp. The flame flared and lit Vera’s face as she walked into Lucy’s room, her wrinkles etched more deeply than before, eyes sunk with exhaustion.
“How you doing, honey?” she asked Lucy, gathering her into a hug.
“Okay,” Lucy croaked. “How’s Carter?”
“We had a good long talk,” Stebbs said, leaning against the wall. “He’s sleeping now, back at our place.”
Lynn propped herself against Lucy’s dresser. “Poor bastard. You talk to his mom?”
“Yeah,” Stebbs said uneasily, his gaze shooting to Vera. “Yeah, we did.”
Vera took Lucy’s hand and looked at Lynn. “Girls . . . we need to talk.”
“Why? What’s going to happen to Carter?” Lucy pulled her hand away from Vera. “What’s going on?”
“Carter is a sick boy,” Stebbs said. “He can’t be around other people.”
“For how long?”
“That’s where it gets tricky,” he said. “Your grandma can’t say for sure.”
Vera reached for Lucy’s hand again, but she yanked it back. “What do you mean?”
Vera sighed. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to understand. When I was in medical school, polio was nearly eradicated—that means it hardly existed anymore. It wasn’t something we spent a lot of time learning about.”
“One of the things you didn’t learn was how long somebody carries it. That what you’re saying?” Lynn asked.
“Yes,” Vera said. “He could be a carrier for a week, a month, or forever. I simply don’t know.”
“I fetched his mother,” Stebbs said, “brought her back to our place, and explained the situation. Told her that her son would have to leave.”
Lucy clutched a pillow to her chest, denial tearing a hot path down her insides. “No, you can’t do that. You can’t make him go just because your stupid college didn’t teach you something forty years ago. That’s not fair and you know it.”
“What’s fair then, little one?” Stebbs asked. “Letting him stay? Not telling people he’s sick and having him infect others?”
“Stebbs is right, Lucy,” Vera said. “It’s the only thing I can think to do.”
“But what if it’s only for a week, or a month, like you said? What then? He’s gone and he never comes back because you were wrong.”
“That’s true,” Vera said. “But what if we take the chance, let him come back, and more fall sick? What do we tell them?”
“And then what?” Stebbs continued. “Try again later and tell the next round of sick it’s their bad luck and we were wrong again?” He shook his head. “I know you got feelings for the boy, but we talked it and talked it and this is the only way we can think is best for everyone.”
“Except Carter,” Lucy said stiffly.
“What’s best for Carter is if it hadn’t ever happened,” Stebbs said. “But we’re past that.”
“Easy for you to say,” Lucy said, anger clipping her words. “You can’t get sick.”
Stebbs’ face went cold, and his tone matched it. “Kid, there ain’t been nothing easy about this. You don’t know the half of it.”
Lynn perked up at his words. “What’s that mean?” Stebbs looked away from her, and she rounded on Vera. “What aren’t you saying?”
“There is one other possibility I didn’t mention in front of Carter,” Vera said.
Lucy’s heart leapt. Possibilities meant options, and hope. “What is it?”