Winter Is Not Forever (18 page)

He was being a little sarcastic, but I had it coming. Still, I couldn’t imagine him letting someone else use Lou’s room. “Sarah uses it,” I argued.

Grandpa thought about that for a few minutes before responding. Then he nodded his head. “I’ve thought on that,” he said. “She does come now and then, an’ I sure wouldn’t want to be discouraging that.” He chuckled. “Isn’t she somethin’?” he went on. “You see the way she helps Charlie?”

I had seen all right. And yes, Sarah was really something. Grandpa laughed again, an outright guffaw. “The other day she was even bossin’ him. ‘Uncle Charlie,’ she says, ‘I think you are making your biscuits too stiff. Mamma adds more milk.’ “ Grandpa laughed again.

“So what did Uncle Charlie say?” I asked, hoping to sidetrack the conversation and, thus, the ideas.

Grandpa laughed again. “He winked at me over her head and said, ‘You’re jest like your mamma—a little take-over.’ But he loved it, I could tell.”

But Grandpa wasn’t ready to let his wild idea drop.

“Sarah could sleep on a cot in the corner of the kitchen,” he said.

“In the kitchen? What kind of sleep would a child get there in the kitchen with you and Uncle Charlie having your coffee and talking over the affairs of the day?”

Grandpa thought about that for several moments. I had scored a point.

“You’re right,” he admitted at last. “I’ll sleep in the kitchen.”

“You?”

That idea was almost as preposterous.

“I’ve slept on the cot before,” Grandpa informed me rather firmly.

I bit my lip. I didn’t want to say something that I shouldn’t.

“You still haven’t listened to my full idea,” Grandpa went on.

“There’s
more
?” I hadn’t intended to sound smart, but it sort of came out that way. I felt my face getting a bit red and knew that I wasn’t fair to Grandpa.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Go ahead.”

Grandpa cleared his throat. He seemed to feel that we were finally getting somewhere.

“You know Charlie is having a bad time getting things done around the house?”

I nodded. We all knew that.
But a teacher? A teacher would have no time and no inclination to help out three—

But Grandpa was going on. “Well, for some time now I’ve been a thinkin’ that what we really need is a hired girl.”

A teacher? A hired girl? I didn’t say it, just thought it, but Grandpa must have read my mind.

“Now, a teacher’s much too busy teachin’ and preparin’ lessons to be able to help around the house, but to get in someone else, well that poses a problem too. Can’t hardly ask a young girl to be moving into a house alone with three men, now, can ya?”

I agreed, but I still couldn’t follow Grandpa’s line of reasoning.

I shrugged and spoke to the team. Somehow I felt hurrying them might also hurry Grandpa to his point.

“So iffen we have the teacher there; then it won’t be a problem getting a hired girl,” he said quickly.

“What?” Was Grandpa really proposing not one woman to live in, but
two
?

“Simple!” said Grandpa.

“And where you planning to put
her
?” I said in exasperation.

“Well, we got two spare bedrooms as I see it,” Grandpa said flatly.

Gramps’ room!
The bedroom off the kitchen. I hadn’t even thought of it—and I was surprised that Grandpa had.

I guess he read my mind again, for he kept right on talking. “A room is for use, Boy. Not for a shrine. One of the girls can have the upstairs bedroom and the other the downstairs bedroom. I don’t much care who takes what. They can work that all out between themselves. Thing is, Charlie needs help, and you and I just don’t have the time to spend in the kitchen. Yer ideas for better farmin’ have been good, real good. But they also take lots more work to put into practice—you know that. Fella can’t be two places, doin’ two jobs at the same time. Now—”

But I cut in. I had better control now and spoke evenly and softly. “Have you talked to Uncle Charlie?” I felt that Uncle Charlie would be on my side.

“Not yet,” said Grandpa. “Wanted to run it by you first.” Grandpa gained some ground there. It flattered me that he had chosen to confer with me. But I was still far from convinced.

I thought the idea an awfully dumb one but I knew that rather than arguing with my Grandpa, I should be logical.

“What makes you think the school board would okay a teacher staying with us?”

“Already talked to the board chairman,” Grandpa admitted.

“And if the teacher refuses?”

“She hasn’t. Says that our place is right handy to the school and that it is easier to board where there aren’t lots of kids.”

So this wasn’t some sudden idea of Grandpa’s. He had already been working—behind our backs.

“Where could we find a hired girl?” I asked next, hoping that I’d stumped him on that one. There weren’t many girls in our area old enough to know how to keep house who weren’t already keeping their own.

“Mary Turley,” said Grandpa simply.

“Mary? Mary is needed at home.”

“Not anymore. Her ma is feelin’ just fine now, and she has two younger sisters who—”

I was beat on that point. I tried for another. “Who says she’d be willing to come? She—”

“She did,” Grandpa said frankly.

I felt anger starting to rise. There sat Grandpa throwing out this wild and crazy scheme; he hadn’t talked to either Uncle Charlie or to me before, but he had been sneaking around arranging the whole thing without us even having the chance to have our say. I had never known Grandpa to do anything so—so
backhanded
before.

“Now wait,” I said, holding up a hand just as I had often seen Grandpa do. “Do you think you’ve been fair? I mean here you are, making all these arrangements and not even asking Uncle Charlie or me what we think about the whole business. Don’t you think you should have asked our opinions? After all—”

“I’m askin’ ya now,” Grandpa said smoothly.

“Well, it sounds to me like it’s a little late,” I continued. “I mean you’ve decided—”

“Nothin’s decided.”

“But you’ve
asked.
”

“Just put out some feelers,” argued Grandpa.

“Quite a few feelers, I’d say,” I countered rather hotly.

“Two,” said Grandpa. “Whether we could keep the teacher as a boarder, and whether we could hire some help.”

“We haven’t even talked about whether we can
afford
the help,” I reminded him. “What if we don’t get a crop? What if—”

He surprised me by chuckling. “That’s the beauty of the whole plan,” he said. “The teacher’s board pays the hired girl.”

I could only stare. He had thought of everything.

I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. I still didn’t like the idea one bit. What in the world would we do with two women in the house? We’d been alone for so long, and we knew our own routine and our own quirks. How in the world would we ever make room and allowance for two women? How could Grandpa even think that it would work?

Yet it was still his house.

Then I thought of Uncle Charlie. It was true that Uncle Charlie found it difficult to care for the household, but at least he still had the feeling of being useful. Uncle Charlie would never agree to having a woman come in and take over his kitchen. Why, that would be admitting that he was no longer of use to anyone. Uncle Charlie would never be shelved like that.

“As I see it,” I said, mustering my courage, “it’s Uncle Charlie’s decision. The house is his area.”

“Exactly!” agreed Grandpa enthusiastically. “That’s just the way I see it, too.”

Did Grandpa know Uncle Charlie better than I did? I slapped the reins over the rumps of the horses.

C
HAPTER
19

Arrangements

S
ARAH PLEADED TO GO
with me to the store, and I couldn’t resist the coaxing in her eyes.

“You know your mamma and papa don’t want me to buy you candy,” I warned her as I led her by the hand to the waiting team.

“I know,” she said cheerily. “But I like being with you anyway, Uncle Josh.”

She could say her
j’s
just fine now. She could also sweet-talk. I looked down at her to read her face, but she seemed so open and honest. I gave her hand a little squeeze.

“I like being with you, too,” I assured her.

“Where do we go first?” she asked me as I lifted her up onto the wagon seat.

“First the feed store, then the post office, then the hardware, and finally the grocery store.”

She seemed quite satisfied with our schedule.

The feed store didn’t take long; I threw the two bags of supplement feed on the wagon and we moved on.

The post office was busy, and I had to stand in line for some time before the clerk handed me our mail. But it was worth the wait. There was a letter from Willie. I tore the envelope open before I even returned to the wagon and began to scan the pages.

“What you got? A letter for you?” asked Sarah from her perch on the wagon seat. I nodded and climbed up beside her.

“Are you gonna read it?” she asked further, which I thought was rather a silly question seeing as I was already reading it. And then I realized that the questions were to remind me that Sarah was there beside me, feeling a need for a little of my attention. I reached out and took her tiny hand.

“There’s a new catalog there,” I told her. “Would you like to look at that while I read my letter?”

Sarah responded immediately to the arrangement. “We’ll both read our mail,” she said with a grin.

The first part of Willie’s letter was all about Camellia and their courtship and their plans and what a wonderful person she was and how she was learning and growing. I skimmed quickly since it was still rather painful.

Then I came to a part that really interested me. Camellia had been to call on her pa.

It was really hard for her,
wrote Willie. It was easy to understand that. I knew how Mr. Foggelson felt about religion of any kind, and I could imagine how he would respond to Camellia’s becoming a believer.

But as tough as it was, she was glad that she went,
the letter went on.
For one thing, it helped her to understand her ma
more. When we were home at Christmas Camellia tried hard to pursuade her ma to go back to her pa. Her ma just shook her head but wouldn’t say anything about the situation. It made Camellia very angry with her mother.

You can imagine how surprised Camellia was to discover that Mrs. Foggelson didn’t stay behind—she was left behind. Mr. Foggelson has no intention of ever resuming the marriage. He told Camellia that her mother had written him twice asking him to forgive her for not being the kind of person she should have been, and for going back on her Christian faith. She also told him that she would be willing to try again, but that she had to be free to be the person that she had been before their marriage—that is, to be
a Christian.

Camellia finally realized that Mrs. Foggelson would have joined Mr. Foggelson again, but this time she would stand firm for her Christian beliefs. Needless to say, he would not agree. In fact, he had quite made up his mind long before he moved from town. He told Camellia that he had found someone “more compatible.”
It nearly crushed Camellia.

For a moment I was filled with such anger toward Mr. Foggelson that I could feel my whole body tensing. Then I remembered that he was a victim of lies and deceit. His false beliefs had taken him down a dark and destructive path. Only God could reach out and open his blinded eyes.

But I felt terribly sorry for Camellia. How shattering it must be to discover the truth about the father that she had idolized for so many years.

Willie’s letter went on.
What I really wanted to share is my good news. I went before the Missions committee last week and was
accepted. I am to leave for South Africa in two weeks’ time. Of
course, I go with mixed emotions—I can hardly bear the thought
of leaving Camellia behind, but she is tremendously brave about it. She—

And Willie’s letter went on and on about the virtues of his betrothed.

A tug on my sleeve reminded me that I had company. Sarah’s little eyes turned wistfully to me.