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"Come on in here," he shouted.

I opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, which had been turned into a hospital room for him. On the table beside the bed were his bedpan and his urine bottle. His breakfast tray was on the bed table. He was sitting up, his back against two large fluffy pillows. The quilt was over his legs and torso, but his cast poked out on the end and side. There were papers and books beside him on the bed.

Papa's hair fell wildly over his forehead. He wore a nightshirt, open at the collar. He looked unshaven, his eyes bleary, but when I entered, he sat up straighter.

"Well, come on in here. Don't stand there like some little idiot," he snapped.

I walked to the bed..

"How do you feel, Papa?" I asked. "Terrible—how'd you expect I'd feel?"

"I'm sorry, Papa."

"Everyone's sorry, but I'm the one laid up in this bed with all that's got to be done." He studied me harder, his eyes moving from my legs up slowly. "You've been doin' real well with your penance, Lillian. Even Emily's got to admit that," he said.

"I'm trying, Papa."

"Good," he said. "Anyway, this accident has put me in a pickle and I'm surrounded by incompetents, plus your Mamma is of absolutely no value in times like these. She doesn't even poke her head in to see if I'm alive or dead."

"Oh, I'm sure she's . . ."

"I don't care about that now, Lillian. I'm probably better off she doesn't come around. She'd only upset me more. What I've decided is you're going to be the one to take care of me and help me with my work," he declared quickly. I looked up, surprised.

"Me, Papa?"

"Yeah, you. Think of it as just another part of your penance. For all I know . . . the way Emily goes on, it might just be. But that's not important now. What's important," he said, looking at me sharply again, "is I get good care and I have someone I can trust to do what has to be done. Emily's busy with her religious studies and besides," he said, lowering his voice, "you were always better at ciphering. I've got these figures to do," he said, seizing a handful of papers. "And my mind's like a sieve. Nothing stays in it long. I want you to add up the totals and do my books, understand. You'll figure it out quickly, I'm sure."

"Me, Papa?" I repeated. His eyes widened.

"Yes, you. Who in tarnation do you think I've been talking about all this time here? Now then," he continued, "I want you to bring up my food. I'll tell you what I want and you'll tell Vera, understand. You come in here every morning and empty my waste and you keep this room clean.

"At night," he said in a softer voice, "you come in and read me the papers and some Bible. You listening to me, Lillian?"

"Yes, Papa," I said quickly.

"Good. All right. First take this breakfast tray down. After that, come up here and change my linen. I feel like I've been sleeping in my own sweat for days. I need a clean night shirt, too. When that's done, I want you to sit yourself over there by that table and do the ciphering of these bills. I need to know what I got to pay out this month. Well," he said when I didn't move, "get to it, girl."

"Yes, Papa," I said, and took his breakfast tray. "Oh, and on the way up, go into my office and get me a dozen of my cigars."

"Yes, Papa."

"And Lillian . . ."

"Yes, Papa?"

"Bring up that bottle of bourbon I have in the left-hand drawer and a glass. From time to time, I need something medicinal."

"Yes, Papa," I said. I paused for a moment to see if there would be anything else. He closed his eyes so I hurried out of the room, my mind spinning. I thought Papa hated me and here he was asking me to do all these important and personal things for him. He must have concluded I was well on my way toward redemption, I thought. He certainly showed me he respected my abilities. With a little pride in my gait for the first time in months, I hurried down the corridor to the stairway. Emily was waiting for me at the bottom.

"He's not choosing you over me because he likes you any better," she assured me. "He has decided and I have agreed that added burdens are what you need at this time. Do what he asks promptly and efficiently, but when you're finished, don't neglect your other penance," she said.

"Yes, Emily."

She looked at the empty tray.

"Go on," she said. "Do what you were told to do."

I nodded and hurried to the kitchen. On my return, I gathered all the things Papa wanted and brought them to his room. Then I went down to the linen closet and got fresh sheets. Changing Papa's bed was hard because I had to help him turn while I tugged at the linen beneath him. He groaned and shouted with pain and twice I stopped, expecting him to strike me for causing him discomfort. But he caught his breath and urged me on. I got the dirty sheet off and the clean sheet on. Then I changed his quilt and pillowcases. When that was over, I fetched him a clean nightshirt.