Amazing Grace (4 page)

“We will be okay,” I whispered to Spot. “Your doghouse will be outside my window at Grandma's house. At night, I can raise the window and tell you goodnight. Won't that be nice?” I wanted my words to sound like our world would be fine, but in my heart I didn't believe it.

Spot whimpered. In dog talk, that meant he didn't believe it either.

“Mom, can we stop by Lily's house so I can tell her goodbye?” I asked. “I won't stay long, I promise.”

Mom answered with a smile in the rearview mirror.

A few minutes later, we stopped at my best friend's house. “I'll miss you, Lily,” I told her as we stood on her front porch. My fingers found their way to my hair and began twisting. “We're moving to Ashland, Kentucky.”

Lily's big blue eyes filled with tears. “I'll miss you too, Grace.” She hugged me and said, “Wait a minute.”

Lily rushed into her house and came back out with a box. She removed the lid and showed me a small, red heart painted on the inside. “It's a memory box. Every time you see this heart, you'll think of me.”

I thanked Lily for the box and wished I had something to give her. We hugged one last time before we waved goodbye. I wondered if I would still be her best friend when I came back home.

Chapter 5

My New Life

The inky sky twinkled as we arrived at Grandma's house. I took Spot around to the back of the house and showed him where Daddy had placed his doghouse. Spot sniffed and walked around the trees, checking out the place.

“Grace Ann, lend a hand,” Mom called out.

I hurried into the house and helped Daddy, Mom and Grandma shift around the furniture so all our stuff would fit. I toted my boxes into my new bedroom and couldn't believe my eyes. My teddy bear! I had brought it to Grandma's when we came last Saturday. I bearhugged that furry critter and danced, danced, danced.

My bedroom was smaller than my room at home, and I had to share it with my brother, the pest. I even had to sleep by the window. I sort of liked that part because Spot slept outside beneath my window, but that's all I liked.

I covered my bed with a Sunbonnet Sue quilt and covered Johnny's with his favorite train quilt. I watched where I stepped because Johnny was messy. Sometimes it felt like I had three brothers to clean up after instead of one. He also snored. I knew because he snored in the Hudson on the trip here. Loud snores, like a hog snorting. Mom said Johnny had a cold and would quit snoring when his nose cleared up.

I looked at him and grunted, “OINK, OINK.”

“You'd better put your stuff out of my sight,” I warned him. “If you don't, I'm going to take half of it and give it away, like you did with
all
my toys.” I squinted my eyes so he'd know I meant business.

“I like my stuff out where I can see it,” Johnny said. “That way, I can always find what I want to play with.”

My squinted, glaring eyes didn't seem to bother Johnny one bit. I scooted his toys and books out of my way. He hadn't learned to read, but he pretended to when he looked at a book.

Daddy came into our bedroom and told us a goodnight story about when he was a little boy. I loved Daddy's stories. He never missed a night telling us about some evil king, brave knight or adventures he had when he was young.

Sleep carried me to the place I wanted to be—Hazard. Johnny and I were whizzing snowballs at a lamppost when Johnny slugged me in the back with one. I fisted a lump of the frosty stuff, ready to wallop him, when Daddy shook me.

“Wake up, Gracie Girl,” Daddy said in a gentle voice. “It's time for me to leave.”

Feeling like I had only slept for minutes, I woke up startled. Leave! Already?

We piled into the Hudson, and Daddy drove us to the train station on the corner of Eleventh Street and Carter Avenue. The big brick depot stood about three streets back from the river where the freight depot perched. A few other soldiers sat on benches, waiting. Our wait was way too short, and I only realized this when I heard the train whistle. A lump the size of an apple lodged in my throat. I tried to clear it, but it wouldn't go anywhere. Daddy hugged Mom and Grandma. He swooped Johnny and me up in his arms at the same time. He kissed us on the cheeks and reminded us to be brave and to behave.

I wanted to say, “I'll miss you” and “I love you, Daddy.” The words hung in my throat and wouldn't budge. I figured the words couldn't get past that lump. I couldn't hear anything but my heart thump-thump-thumping like a beaver tail slapping the water, warning the other beavers that something was wrong. I guess my thumping heart was giving me a warning too. Something was wrong. Daddy was leaving, and we had no idea where he was going or when he would be back.

We stood there and watched him board the train. He waved and threw us a kiss with his hand. I wanted to wave goodbye, but my hands hung limp by my side. Then Daddy disappeared inside the long silver snake of a train that soon slithered westbound down the tracks.

As Mom drove us back to Grandma's house, the car filled with a silence so quiet my ears hurt. Mom broke the hush as we climbed the steps. Avoiding eye contact with us, she cleared her throat and said, “We have to be brave.”

“We have to have gumption,” Grandma said, finding her voice, too. “It's what your daddy would want.” Grandma smiled at Johnny and me. She swallowed deep to choke back the tears.

Grandma's house had seemed too small for all of us when we moved in. Without Daddy, it seemed too big.

Grandma and Mom kept saying we would be fine, that Daddy would be home soon. The way they said it, over and over, reminded me of how Mom was forever telling Johnny that if he ate one more cookie, he wouldn't get dessert after supper. Johnny always ate one more cookie, and he always got dessert. The way she said it, Johnny knew she didn't mean it. I couldn't help but wonder if we'd really be fine. I wondered if Daddy would ever come home. I wondered if Mom and Grandma really meant what they said.

“We need to write letters to let your Daddy know that we're thinking of him,” Mom said.

“And write happy thoughts,” said Grandma. “We'll cheer him up with our letters.”

Grandma walked over to the wireless and turned a knob. The newsman was talking about the war. “The Axis Powers—Germany, Japan and Italy—are trying to control the world. When Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii on December 7, 1941, the United States joined Great Britain, the Soviet Union, Canada, France and other countries—the Allied Powers—to stop them. Today, March 20, 1944, the Allied forces are still fighting for freedom.”

Grandma rocked in her chair and knitted as the newsman talked. I couldn't believe Grandma was actually listening to the wireless. Just yesterday, she had claimed the radio was a waste of time.

I immediately tugged a sheet of paper from a stack Mom had put on the table for us to use. I searched through the pencils she had stuck, point up, in a blue Ball canning jar. I grabbed the sharpest one I could find. I thought about how I hurt inside, worse than when I cut my knee on the barbed-wire fence.

I wrote what I felt.

Dear Daddy,

I don't want you to leave us and go somewhere far away. I love Grandma, but I don't want to live here. I like my school and my friends and my teacher. I'm nervous about going to a new school and finding new friends. I want you back home and I want to go back home. Please, please, pretty please, Daddy, come back home.

I read my words and remembered what Grandma had said. Write happy thoughts to cheer up Daddy. I reread what I wrote and remembered Daddy wanted me to be brave. I drew lines through the words.

Writing a happy letter wasn't easy when all I felt was sad. Before, I could always tell Daddy how I was feeling. If I felt sad, he would understand. He would say something to make me feel better. If I felt happy, he would make me feel happier.

I looked at my letter once more. Daddy would be even sadder if I sent gloomy words. I wadded the paper and tossed it into the fireplace. Flames licked it away.

I walked to my bedroom, snatched my box of crayons and began to draw. I pictured Grandma turning a knob on the wireless. Daddy would be pleased. Mom and I were sitting beside Grandma listening to the news. Then I added Johnny with his eyes crossed.

Dear Daddy,

I drew a special picture of Mom, Grandma, Johnny and me. We're listening to the wireless. The second picture is Johnny's and my bedroom. Can you guess which side of the room belongs to Johnny? You will probably want to hang this picture on a wall when you get to where you will live.

The newsmen have been talking about the war. I listened to every word they said, but they didn't say your name like I hoped they would. We'll keep listening.

I miss you, Daddy.

I love you,

Gracie Girl

P.S. Here are two pictures of Spot. The first one is him barking at the moon. I think he's trying to wake me up so I'll raise the window and talk to him. The second picture is Spot chasing his tail.

When I finished drawing the pictures, I scurried outside to show them to Spot. I could tell Spot missed his friend Abby, the hound dog that lived next door to us back home. I hugged Spot and told him I knew how he felt. He wasn't the only one that missed a friend back home. When I told Spot that we had to have gumption, he grunted a little. In dog talk, that meant he would do the best he could, but he promised nothing. Spot had an uncanny way of knowing exactly how I felt.

Back inside, I redrew the pictures and rewrote the letter on a V Mail sheet. The V Mail stood for Victory Mail and was a sheet about four and a half inches wide by five inches long. I had to draw and write small to squeeze in everything I wanted to send. I folded the sheet that formed its own envelope. As I held my letter, I wondered when Daddy would come back home.

Chapter 6

My New School

My day started before the rooster crowed. I washed my face and raked a brush through my hair. Didn't do much good. My hair sprung out like tree branches from a night of head tossing on a feather pillow. When I tried to brush it out, my hair pulled, so I figured I'd tie it all up in a ponytail. My day was off to a bad start. Another thing I figured was that the bad would turn to worse when I set foot in my new school.

I was real careful how I moved, making sure I kept my back turned away from everybody. When I met Mom or Grandma, I backed up and let them pass. My plan worked until that brat of a brother of mine stuck his nose into a place it didn't belong—my business.

“Mom, Grace Ann's got a rat's nest in the back of her head,” Johnny bigmouthed. Then he bent over with a belly laugh, pointed at my head and squeaked like a rat.

I pitched him a squint-eyed look, but he kept on pointing and cackling.

Mom said, “Grace, let me see your hair in back.”

That's all it took. Mom grabbed a brush and swiped it through my hair. Mom didn't quit until she had untangled the wad. Finally, she kissed the top of my head and declared that my hairdo did me proud.

After I pulled on a green-and-white checked dress and yellow sweater, I stuck my socked feet into my patent leather shoes and walked into the kitchen. I sat down to a bowl of cornflakes Grandma had set out for me. Most of the time I scarfed down a bowl of cornflakes and loaded up on seconds, but today, my tummy jiggled and wiggled from my nerves. I crammed a spoonful of milk and flakes into my mouth, but somehow I didn't feel like eating.

Grandma walked over and patted me on the shoulder.

Johnny charged through the kitchen, all smiles and jabbering. “Mom said I'll make new friends at school.”

“I don't want new friends, Johnny,” I told him. “I want my old friends. My old school. My old teacher. My old house.” Tears dribbled down my face. When Johnny saw my tears, his eyes clouded up and rained too.

Mom came into the kitchen and told me I shouldn't upset my brother. “He was looking forward to the new school, and now you've got him worried,” she snapped at me.

I didn't mean to upset Johnny. Or Mom. I stomped out of the kitchen and yelled, “Nobody cares how I feel!” I missed my dad and how he would always listen to how I was feeling or what I had to say.

Mom followed me. She wrapped her arms around me in a big hug and said everything would be all right. I could tell by the way she said it that she didn't really mean that everything would be all right. What Mom meant was that I would have to live with my new life and my new school.

I raced outside to kiss Spot goodbye before school. “I'll miss you today. I know you didn't want to move here, but remember, we've got to have gumption.”

Spot yipped. In dog talk that meant, “I may have to move, but I don't have to like it.”

“I wish you could go to school with me,” I whispered.

Spot drooped his tail as if to say he was sorry he couldn't go.

I looked at my sweet mutt, and the words Grandpa used to say burst out of my mouth: “If wishes were fishes, we'd have a fry.”