Julia's Hope (15 page)

I had expected something different from Emma’s first day home. Maybe that we would just sit on the porch and talk awhile or go through more of her boxes and put things away. Or that she’d want to inspect the buildings or find a way out to her husband’s grave. I wasn’t sure what to think of this down-to-business Emma who seemed to have nothing on her mind other than garden work. She was hardly even saying anything now, just pulling weeds here and there like she had nothing else to concern herself with.

I would have liked to talk while we worked. It would have made me feel better. But instead I just prayed awhile, hoping we were doing the right thing. And then I heard Emma sniff, and I looked up to see that she was crying.

“I never thought I’d get my hands in this good old dirt again,” she said. “I could just kiss you. And the good Lord too.”

EIGHTEEN

Samuel

I was halfway through the woods to the neighbor’s house and wishing I could have gone the opposite direction. I was pretty sure George Hammond would give up the push plow for Emma’s sake, but just as sure he wouldn’t have much good to say for me.

Robert was excited, though, to meet some of the other Hammond children and see where they lived. He talked about fishing with Willy on that precarious board stretched over the pond and how good those fish had tasted.

Soon we were close enough to hear a child squealing, and a big black dog came bounding toward us with its mouth open.

“Boomer! Boomer!” a little voice called, and in no time, a girl no bigger than Sarah burst out of the bushes after the dog. She stood for a moment, staring, and I told her my name and asked where I could find her father.

“Pa’s in the woodshed with Franky again,” she announced with a bit of a giggle. “He tipped over a whole bucket of cream.”

We followed her into the farmyard, where two boys smaller than her were playing tug-of-war with a muddy length of rope. One of them stopped when he saw us and ran his stubby little legs into the house, and the other one came right up to Robert and said hello.

“I’ll get my pa,” the little girl offered and took off toward the two rickety buildings behind the house, yelling all the way.

I was surprised by the looks of the place. Piles of boards and rusty old implements I could not identify were scattered about in the weeds. Three sheep were tethered in the front yard, to eat the lawn short, I supposed. And the whole place smelled like pig.

The house was no bigger than Emma’s and in much sadder shape, though it’d been lived in all along. I couldn’t be sure if it had ever been painted. The side door with its torn screen came creaking open slowly, and a tall girl poked her head out.

“Mama can’t get up right now,” she hollered. “But she sent me to see what you’re needin’! Are you come from Emma Graham’s place?”

“She asked me to see your father,” I answered, feeling sorry for this girl, who probably had a lot on her shoulders.

It wasn’t long before Mr. Hammond came hurrying from the hog lot, wearing knee boots and a big straw hat. “Sam, ain’t it?” he yelled when he saw me and then didn’t wait for my answer. “Harry,” he said to the little boy now clinging to Robert’s hand, “take your friend up to the barn. Willy and Kirk’s in there.”

Robert looked up at me. I waved him on, figuring it was harmless to let him have a few minutes’ time with other boys.

“Whatcha need?” George asked.

“Emma sent me for her push plow. It’s pretty important to her to have a good garden.”

He straightened his hat and eyed me fiercely. “So you got ’er done, did ya? You got Emma back home?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what she wanted.”

“Fine arrangement you made fer yerself! Gonna milk her dry ’fore she leaves this world, ain’t you?”

His accusation made me sick inside, but I refused to address it. “Can I get the plow?”

He smiled in an ugly, cold way that made me want to hit him. “You know what to do with it, do ya?”

“With a plow, you plow,” I huffed, unwilling to admit that I’d never used one. “Where is it?”

“Ain’t no hurry, now,” he said. “Shoulda brought the wife, so’s you could all meet the fam’ly.”

“She’ll come another time,” I told him, calming myself. “I expect she would like to meet your wife.”

“Ah, Wilametta’s ’bout beside herself to think of a woman so close over there again. I figure Posts is close enough, or Muellers. But ya know how women is, wantin’ another one close ’nough to walk to easy. If she wasn’t ’bout to pop, she’d a’ been over there already.”

“I’ll tell Julia how anxious she is to meet her.”

“You do that. How’s Emma?”

“Seems fine. Anxious to see the garden finished.”

He looked me over again and shook his head. “All righty. Her plow’s in the barn. Wasn’t finished with it, but you can have it. Wouldn’t want her sore at me.”

He walked with me to a barn nearly as rickety as Emma’s, and I could hear boys in the loft above us. The plow was a one-wheeled contraption with long handles. I’d seen one once in Harrisburg on the lot of a young family who grew tomatoes and cabbages to help make ends meet. But this plow was rusty and rough and looked like it could fall apart.

“Can she get around at all with them canes?” George asked me.

“Not very well,” I told him. “I’ll be doing the plowing.”

He smiled and nudged at the plow bar with his foot. “Gotta get this part deep in the dirt,” he said. “Or you ain’t done nothin’ but took a stroll.”

“I know.”

“Reckon you can pack ’er home?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Whatcha plantin’?”

“Turnips and pumpkins. Lettuce. And beans.” I didn’t say anything about the salsify, because I wasn’t sure what it was.

“Ain’t puttin’ in corn? I remember Emma bein’ one to love some good roastin’ ears.”

“It’s in the ground already.”

“Plantin’ corn afore lettuce,” George mused. “Now there’s somethin’ new.”

Julia might have understood the reason for his amusement, but I didn’t care what he thought. I just wanted to leave his property so I didn’t have to listen to him anymore. The plow wasn’t any bigger than a bicycle, so I just picked it up with one hand and turned for the barn door. “Come on, Robert! We need to get back!”

“The boy kin stay awhile,” George told me.

“He’s needed at home.”

“Well, I reckon he would be, at that.”

There was laughter in Hammond’s eyes. I knew it, and I had no patience for it. I wasn’t so much of an idiot that I deserved his ridicule. I called for Robert one more time and started walking.

Robert climbed halfway down the loft ladder and then jumped the rest of the way, followed by Willy, little Harry, and two more skinny boys who must have been Franky and Kirk.

“Can we go fishin’?” one of the boys asked.

“Get yer chores done first,” George told them. “Then get ’nough fer supper or it ain’t worth you goin’.”

“Can I meet them at the pond?” Robert asked me.

“Later,” I told him. “We’ve got plenty of other things to do first.”

We said good-bye and started into the woods, followed by the two littlest Hammond boys. Finally, I turned around and they hid behind a bush. “Go home,” I commanded. “You’re too young to be wandering out here on your own.”

“No, we’re not,” Harry spoke up. “I’m five now, and Bert’s almost three.”

“Go hug your mama,” I told them, shaking my head.

“Mama told us to play outside,” Harry insisted. “We wanna come to yer house.”

“Not today,” I said as sternly as I could. “You get your father’s permission some other time and one of your older brothers to bring you.”

“All right.” Disappointment was obvious in the voice of the little boy who fancied himself old enough to do as he pleased. They both stepped out of the bushes, and I could see that Bert had his thumb in his mouth.

“Go home,” I told them again. And without another word, they turned and walked away.

“It’d be neat to have so many brothers,” Robert said.

“Sometimes,” I acknowledged.

“Can I go to school with Willy and Frank next week?”

“We’ll talk to your mother, but I think she’ll like that idea.”

“They don’t go all the time in the spring,” Robert explained. “Not when they got anything else to do. And they don’t go in the winter neither, when the weather gets bad, nor when their pa’s harvesting, ’cause they help.”

“Sounds like they don’t get there much. That’s not good, Robert.”

“Once I know the way, I can go without ’em.”

“I expect you’ll have to.”

We walked awhile in silence, and then Robert looked up at me with his eyes so serious I almost stopped walking.

“Emma needs one of them chairs with wheels. Remember Mr. Heddesy? He got one.”

“Yes, I remember.” I set the plow down and considered. “That would help Emma. A lot. But they probably cost a lot of money too.” Mr. Heddesy had been the president of a large bank in Harrisburg. His whole family was rich and could get him whatever he needed. No problem. But we were in no such position.

“It wouldn’t be too hard, would it?” he asked me. “I mean, to make something like that? You could do it, couldn’t you, Dad?”

His question stunned me. “I don’t know, son. That would take some figuring out.”

“But you said you could make a porch swing. It’d just be smaller, with wheels underneath. And I’d help.”

I saw the urgency in my son’s eyes and was amazed at his trust in me and his hope for Emma. “Let me think on it awhile, all right?” I asked. “There’s not much to work with out here.”

“She really needs it, Dad. I wouldn’t want to go crawlin’ around outside.”

I sighed. “I’ll try, okay? I’ve never done anything like that before, so don’t mention it to anyone yet. I’d hate to have her disappointed.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Satisfied, Robert started walking on, and I followed him with the plow in my arms and a new burden in my heart.

Julia was making dinner when we got back. Something smelled good, but I had no idea what it was.

Emma sat at the table, pulling pot holders and hand-dipped candles out of a box. Sarah was on the floor, cradling raggedy Bess in a dishcloth.

“Emma told me where to find poke in back of the barn,” Julia said, as if that would mean something to me. I assumed she meant we would be eating the stuff, but I didn’t care what it was or where she’d found it. I gave her a hug, glad she’d left the cookstove to greet me.

“Sit down,” she admonished. “We’ll be ready to eat in a minute. Long walk?”

“No.” And I meant it. If I looked tired, it was because of the weight of George Hammond’s scorn and the challenge of Robert’s request. There were so many different ways to fail here.

“He give up the plow all right?” Emma asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did he mention anything else?”

“Uh, no. Except that his wife is wanting to meet Julia.”

“I’ll bet she is. Loves to talk, that girl. And she loves m’ strawberries too. Won’t be long ’fore she sends one of her youngsters up, just to spy how near to ripe they’ve come.”

Julia turned around. “They’re starting to turn now. Is that a problem?”

“I don’t suppose so. Reckon they need all they can get. She’s been used to all of ’em, though, since I’ve been gone.”

I glanced at Julia and squirmed in my seat, feeling even more uncomfortable with the neighbors than I had before. Let George Hammond farm the field, Emma had said— they needed it. No doubt. But still, that field was Emma’s. And suddenly I was feeling very protective.

“Do they give you anything for the use of your land?”

Julia looked at me with horror, but Emma just laughed and set me straight. “My ’greement with Hammond is ’tween us,” she said. “Don’t reckon you need think on that business just yet.”

I nodded, not wanting to say another word. But Emma wouldn’t let me by so easily.

“They’s right enough folks,” she insisted. “Just got their ownselves on their mind. And they can’t help it. They got to make a livin’, same as you been tryin’ to do.”

Julia began setting dishes on the table, and I moved my elbow out of the way, wishing I could disappear. “Forgive me, Mrs. Graham.”

Emma surprised me by reaching over and patting my hand. “Nothin’ to worry about. I know George ain’t tickled at me just now. He prob’ly thinks like Hazel, that I done somethin’ stupid, comin’ back here. Might be scared too, ’bout what I aim to do with him. But he’ll come ’round, and you’ll end up friends, just wait.”

“Will Miss Hazel come around?” Julia asked timidly.

“She’ll come ’round snoopin’.” Emma smiled. “She’ll be out here ’fore too long, tryin’ to rescue me from somethin’ or other. But she ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout. All bark. And I always do whatever I please anyhow. Makes her madder’n a hornet.”

I hadn’t realized there was anything but green beans and peaches in those jars Rita McPiery sent, but Julia had boiled home-canned pork with some dumplings, and it was the best thing I’d had in weeks. We had poke shoots on the side and the rest of the jar of peaches Juli had opened for Daniel Norse. It was some real eating, but I was anxious to get done and get back to work.

“It’s gettin’ late,” Emma told me. “Ain’t you folks from the city? I didn’t figger you’d be accustomed to workin’ after supper.”

Julia only smiled at such a thought, but I replied, “When there’s work waiting, I’d rather get to it. I’d like to plow while it’s still light, so we can plant first thing tomorrow.”

Of course, Emma thought this a grand idea. And she wanted in on the work, even if she couldn’t do the plowing herself. So I helped her outside, and Robert brought a chair. She just sat and happily watched me plod back and forth, pushing the plow through the heavy soil.

“We’ve had that plow a good long time,” Emma told me. “An’ I kep’ it nice. But it looks like George left ’er in the rain a time or two. I’ll not thank him for that.”

I said nothing. I knew better than to stick my nose in again.

“You had a garden before?” she asked.

“Julia has. She planted a few things in our yard in Harrisburg.”

“She’s a fine lady. You been blessed to have her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I turned a corner and plodded on. Pushing the plow wasn’t too bad, but it was harder than the tomato farmer back in Harrisburg had made it look.