Farmerettes by Gisela Sherman Page A

someone shouted.
    Helene looked up as two girls jumped across the rows toward a mound of baby blue and white. She got up and raced toward her friend. “Someone bring water!”
    Nancy ran to the pump.
    Jean’s face scrunched with concern. “Peggy, get salt and some cloths from the house.”
    While they waited, Helene cradled the crumpled figure who lay with eyes closed, face drained of color. Desperately she fanned the air over Isabel. “They’re bringing water. You’ll soon feel better,” she told her.
    Jean barked at the other girls watching them. “Go back to work.” Then she softened her tone. “Please.”
    When Peggy returned, Jean dipped a cloth into the pail and wiped Isabel’s forehead, neck, and arms.
    Jean’s mother hurried toward them with a cup. While Helene propped Isabel up, Mrs. McDonnell gave her a few sips of salted water, which Isabel swallowed with a shudder. Her eyes fluttered shut again.
    Mrs. McDonnell soaked two more cloths and rolled them under Isabel’s armpits. She lifted her shirt and sponged her back until finally Isabel opened her eyes again, and tried to smile.
    â€œHow do you feel?” asked Mrs. McDonnell.
    â€œDizzy,” Isabel whispered weakly.
    â€œTake another sip.”
    Isabel drank, stopped to rest, tried another mouthful.
    â€œYou’ll be okay now,” said Jean. “I’ll get back to work.”
    Isabel looked stricken. “I’m sorry I held you up.”
    â€œIt’s not your fault. It happens in this heat.”
    Isabel looked at the other farmerettes working in the field. “But they’re all right.”
    Isabel tried to sit up, but Mrs. McDonnell held her back. “You’re not out of the woods yet. I need to keep cooling you down before you can move. How do you feel now?”
    Helene heard Isabel whisper, “Like a stupid baby.” More loudly, Isabel answered, “I’m fine, ready to work now.”
    Mrs. McDonnell shook her head. “You’ve had sunstroke. We need to get you inside.”
    Isabel began to stand, but swooned back to the ground. Helene let her rest before she tried to help her up again. This would not be easy.
    From a nearby row stepped a tall girl with a yellow scarf tied around her hair. She bent down, swooped Isabel into her arms, and carried her from the field.
    Mrs. McDonnell followed. “I’ll leave the water bucket and salt tablets here for the rest of you,” she called back. “If anyone feels the least bit faint or sick, stop right away and get to the shade.”
    Helene watched them disappear down the lane. She felt slightly woozy herself, but she had a job to do. She finished another row, and then stopped at the water bucket, which now had leaves and an unhappy insect floating in it. She scooped out the bug, filled the tin cup with water to drink, and patted some on her face. She glanced up at the sun, blazing on her right. It was midafternoon.Would she last three more hours?
    Wednesday, June 16, 1943
    Isabel
    Next morning Isabel woke up to weak light wavering through a small window. Her head pounded, every muscle ached. She lay still, trying to place herself. From the bottles and bandages on a shelf nearby, she realized she was in the infirmary. She gazed around the cubicle. Two beds were set apart from the main dormitory by half a wooden wall. The pale light must mean a new day. Then she remembered yesterday.
    Miss Stoakley had kept watch over her, bathed her with cool cloths, smoothed lotion on her arms, made her drink too much water and juice. Isabel had slept restlessly, her sunburn stinging, her stomach queasy. Every time she awoke, either Miss Stoakley or Helene was sitting by her side with a smile and a cool drink. Once she had awoken to the laughter of a card game on the bed beside her. Peggy, Helene, and Binxie waved at her cheerfully, and kept on playing.
    They cared about her. But no one gushed over her