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Authors: Michael Phillips

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BOOK: Never Too Late
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“We long for news of you all, but know we will have to wait until we are in the West for you to be able to write to us. We both send our love. You are dear to our hearts.”

A bell sounded from below
.

“Uh-oh—a customer!” said Katie. “I'm almost done
.

“You are dear to our hearts,”she read again
.

“We miss you and thank you for everything
.

“God's best to you all
.

“Micah Duff”

Katie dashed downstairs, leaving me alone again with Mrs. Hammond
.

A V
ISIT

31

B
y late afternoon of the second day we had spent with her, Mrs. Hammond was feeling so much better that she told me she was ready to go downstairs to the shop. We went down together, and she told Katie that she was feeling better and that we should get on our way home before it was too late. She could handle things alone for the last hour or two. The color had returned to her face and she seemed to have most of her energy back. She assured us that she would be fine for the rest of the week
.

She thanked us again and we set out for Rosewood. I thought about waiting for Jeremiah and riding back with him, but realized it probably wasn't such a good idea to stay in town alone
.

Everyone back at Rosewood was just as excited as we had been about the letter from Micah and Emma. It got read two or three times and there were more tears in that house than just Katie's and mine!

We had helped Mrs. Hammond on Wednesday
and Thursday. We heard nothing more from town until midway through Sunday afternoon several hours after those of us who had gone to church—Katie and me and Papa—had returned to Rosewood
.

A buggy pulled by a single horse approached. Uncle Ward, who was the only one outside, was surprised to see Mrs. Hammond driving up toward the house
.

“Mrs. Hammond, good day to you,” he said, taking the reins of her horse and helping her down from the buggy
.

“Thank you, Mr. Daniels,” she said
.

“Are you sure you're well enough to be out riding?” he asked as he tied the reins to a hitching rail
.

Mrs. Hammond smiled. “I needed some fresh air, and well . . . I just felt like—”

“Come in,” he interrupted, “—everyone else is inside.”

She followed him, carrying a small bag. He led her into the kitchen, where Josepha and I were cutting up some vegetables for a stew
.

“Look who's here,” said Uncle Ward. “We've got a visitor!”

“Mrs. Hammond!” I exclaimed
.

“Hello, uh . . . Mary Ann,” she said, then glanced nervously toward Josepha. “I came out just to . . . to thank you again for helping me like you did.”

“Let me go get Katie,” I said and ran out of the kitchen
.

“Katie!” I yelled up the stairs. “Mrs. Hammond's here!”

Katie walked into the kitchen just as my papa and Henry came in from outside
.

“Uncle Templeton,” said Katie, “Mrs. Hammond came for a visit.”

“I can see that.—Hello, Mrs. Hammond,” said Papa, walking toward her with a smile and his hand outstretched. “Welcome to Rosewood!”

“Thank you, Mr. Daniels,” she said, more nervous than ever to be suddenly the center of so much attention. She had heard so many rumors about the strange goings-on at Rosewood . . . now here she was right in the middle of them . . . whites and blacks mixed up together like nobody could tell the difference!

“Josepha,” said Papa, “put on a pot of coffee.—Let's go into the sitting room.”

We followed him into the parlor, all except Josepha, and sat down
.

“I said to Mary Ann a moment ago,” said Mrs. Hammond, “that I came out to thank you two girls again—”

She glanced over at Katie
.

“—for your . . . for your thoughtfulness and for helping me like you did.”

“We enjoyed it, Mrs. Hammond,” said Katie
.

“Why, they came back here,” said Papa, “raving about what a time they'd had being shopkeepers!”

“You are very kind,” said Mrs. Hammond. “But you two girls did far more for me than I can ever repay, especially because I know I haven't really ever done anything to deserve your kindness.”

She glanced toward Katie and me and smiled
.

“And I . . .” she went on, hesitantly but somehow determined to continue, “I am . . . what I am trying to say, though this is very difficult for me—”

She drew in a breath, glancing down at her lap, where she was holding the small bag she had come with
.

“—and that . . . well, I . . . I am sorry for the way I've been to you all.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hammond,” said Katie, standing and hurrying over to where she sat on one of the couches. Katie sat down beside her and placed a hand on Mrs. Hammond's arm
.

It was quiet a moment. Slowly the rest of us realized that she was crying softly. Katie continued to sit with her
.

At last Mrs. Hammond drew in a few deep breaths, sniffed a couple of times, and looked up and tried to force a smile
.

“And I also wanted to . . .”

She glanced around the room
.

“Where is the colored lady?” she said
.

“Josepha?” said Katie
.

“Yes . . . Josepha—wasn't she from the McSimmons place too?” she asked, looking over at me
.

“Yes,” I nodded. “But she didn't come till after I was already here.”

“Yes, well . . . I wanted to thank her for the delicious soup and bread.”

“Josepha, let the coffee wait,” called Papa. “Come in here a minute.”

A few seconds later, Josepha appeared at the door, though she wasn't smiling
.

“Mrs. Hammond has something she wants to tell you,” said Uncle Ward
.

“Yes . . . well,” said Mrs. Hammond, glancing toward Josepha, “I was just telling the others that I was sorry I hadn't been as nice as maybe I ought to have been. A lady living alone all her life like me, with nobody to keep her company but herself . . . she can get kind of crotchety and I'm afraid I have . . . and I remember one time when you were in the store with Mrs. McSimmons, God rest her soul, and I'm afraid I spoke rudely to you. I want to apologize for that . . . and to thank you for the wonderful soup and bread the girls brought me this week. I, uh . . .”

She opened the bag on her lap and reached inside
.

“I brought you some chocolates,” she said. “I hope you will enjoy them.”

She looked up toward Josepha and forced a timid smile
.

The room fell completely silent. After everything Josepha had said in the last day or two, the significance of the moment wasn't lost on any of us, and I don't think on Josepha either
.

Mrs. Hammond got up and walked over and handed the box of candy to her
.

“Thank you,” she said again. “That was really the best soup and bread I have ever had, and I didn't deserve them.”

Josepha took the box, mumbled a few words of
thanks, then said something about having to check on the coffee, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Mrs. Hammond went back to the couch and sat down again beside Katie
.

By the time Josepha appeared with a tray of coffee things, Papa had got Mrs. Hammond talking, like he is so good at doing. With the rest of us joining in, she was asking questions about Rosewood and all of us, and we were talking and laughing like she'd been part of it all along. Henry and Jeremiah even got a chance to tell her a little of their stories, and she listened just as interested and attentively as she had to the rest of us
.

Henry spoke so graciously to Mrs. Hammond. You could see from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he really had compassion for her. It was as if he felt the pain of her loneliness himself. It made him love her and care about her all the more. I think she felt it too. Though she had always looked down on Henry, after that day I think there was some kind of special bond between them that Mrs. Hammond herself probably didn't even understand
.

But love is like that. You can never tell how it is going to change you inside
.

When Mrs. Hammond left an hour later, we all knew that Rosewood had a new friend
.

H
ARD
T
ALK

32

J
osepha was quiet for a day or two after that. And I thought a little grumpy too. I wasn't sure, but I had the feeling it had something to do with Mrs. Hammond's visit
.

Remembering what she'd said about her promise to my mother, the thought struck me that maybe I had a responsibility to Josepha too
.

I got up my courage to have a serious talk with her
.

“Josepha,” I said the next day, “can I talk to you?”

“Sure, Mayme, chil',” she said, “what 'bout?”

“You know that promise you made to my mama?”

“I's never forget it.”

“You know how much I appreciate all you've done for me, and for being such a friend to my mama?”

Josepha nodded
.

“But now the time's come when I'm almost grown up, almost as old as my mama herself was.”

BOOK: Never Too Late
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