A Winter's Promise Read online

  When Fred glanced away, Emma winked at Albert—meaning, “I’ll have a special reward for you.”

  Albert nodded and grinned.

  For once Fred didn’t protest about nap time. He raced into the bedroom, squealing and giggling, and Emma had to remind him to go potty first.

  Why on earth did Al have to go to his folks’ house for? she wondered. He could have made a quick stop on his way to camp. When she put the baby up on her shoulder, her arms were so weak she had to sit him on her lap.

  Al’s sock!l He wanted another pair. She’d have to darn them. With one hand Emma dropped a comforter on the floor, straightened it with her toe, and laid the baby on it. Maybe he would roll around contentedly. It was a good time for him to be on the floor, while no one would be opening the door to let in cold drafts.

  Emma struggled to her feet. She could hear Albert singing, but the other two were quiet. Thank goodness. It was working.

  Now, what could she give Albert for a reward? Going outside was nothing unusual. Anyway, she wanted him to go out when Al came back. Paper and pencil? That was nothing new, either. There were only enough peppermints for one apiece after Al left. . . Suddenly she remembered the wallpaper scraps Ma had sent a couple, weeks ago,

  That was it! She’d stir up a little flour and water paste, and let Albert paper something. But what? Mentally, she roved the house. Ah. The little wooden box, under her bed that held yarn. He could cover the whole thing with paper if he wanted to.

  She tiptoed to the bedroom, pulled out the box, dumped the yarn on the bed, winked at Albert, and tiptoed out again, her finger over her lips. Fred and Ellie had their eyes closed, but she feared they weren’t yet sleeping soundly.

  She’d have to clear the table to give Albert room to paste. All the while she set the dishes in the dishpan she didn’t care if they ever got washed, her mind spewed out thoughts: Doesn’t he think about what goes on here after he’s gone? Does he just walk away and forget us? Sure, he can heave those water buckets up just like that, and shovel out manure, but I don’t have his strength. Doesn’t he realize I’m a woman? He didn’t even ask me how my back was this morning. He doesn’t care, as long as I’m walking around. Well, one of these days, when I can’t keep going, he’ll be sorry!

  Albert tiptoed out of the bedroom, grinning expectantly. Emma put her fingers to her lips again and motioned toward the bedroom.

  Albert put his hand over his mouth and drew his shoulders way up to his earlobes. He snuggled up to her, and she hugged him.

  “Come see,” she whispered. Mustering enthusiasm, she showed him the wallpaper and box. “I’ll make some paste for you,” she said, spooning flour into a cup. She stirred it, then demonstrated with a small piece of wallpaper. “You lay it right side down and put paste on it. Then you lay it on the box, like this, and smooth it down. You can cover the whole thing. Won’t that be pretty? I’ll give you a wet rag to wipe your fingers on.”

  While Albert pasted, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Emma rummaged through her mending basket for a pair of Al’s heavy woolen socks.

  When Albert started to talk, she quickly put her fingers to her lips.

  “I liketa paste!” he whispered.

  She flashed him a tiny smile and nodded. When she finished the socks, she rolled them up. “Wipe your fingers, and you can tuck these in Papa’s turkey.”

  “How come you call Papa’s knapsack a ‘turkey’?”

  Emma shrugged. “I don’t know who started calling it that. But it kinda looks like a turkey, doesn’t it?”

  He grinned, scampered over to get the socks and put them in the pack, and went back to pasting.

  “I’m going to lie down awhile,” she whispered. Albert frowned. “Your back hurtin’ bad, Mama?”

  She nodded. Better that he be concerned about her back than her state of mind.

  Ten

  Al’s Decision

  Lying in bed, Emma realized that her back really was hurting. It could be aching so bad that I won’t be able to get up by the time Al comes home, she thought spitefully. What would he do if I told him I just couldn’t walk? I’d have to limp around and pretend a bit.

  She rolled the thought around awhile. It would serve him right. But the money—the horses! No. It was a silly idea. Al had to go back to camp.

  For a few moments, Emma enjoyed the luxury of lying still without a single demand on her. Then her thoughts churned again. It was like a little voice taunting, “He doesn’t care! He doesn’t care about you or the little ones!”

  It was true that he hadn’t said a word about how she would manage to do the work when he was gone. He hadn’t said a thing, except that he had dragged in hay. He never said, “Sure glad Molly’s, calf didn’t come when you were alone.” Never said, “Think what could have happened if Fred hadn’t dropped that razor, or you hadn’t come in when you did?” It was as though it had never happened as far as he was concerned.

  A chill still raced through Emma when the scene flashed into her mind. What if Fred had been badly cut? He could have bled to death! Why, by the time, she could have carried him to Grandpa’s house.... She groaned and buried her face in the pillow, trying to blot out the horrible scene.

  And Al hadn’t even mentioned it again!

  “Work!” she muttered. “That’s all he thinks about.” Ma was so impressed because he was ambitious. Humphl There’s more to life than work and earning money. What good is money if one of the little ones gets hurt—or dies?

  I should have thought about all those things before I married him. Someone else would have come along if I had waited. Come to think of it, Al always did take me for granted. That time at the box social, why, he acted like he was doing me a big favor to buy my lunch and eat with me. Nothing shy about him ever. Sometimes I wondered if he came to see me or Ma and Pa. He’d talk and talk with them, and I’d get so mad! He wouldn’t pay attention to me until it was time for him to go. Then he’d take my hand, and I’d walk down the drive with him and listen to him tell about his big plans. I never should have let him know I liked him. I could have kept him guessing, but I was afraid he’d turn on his heel and find someone who wouldn’t play games with him. I just should have waited. Maybe I’d have seen then what he was really like.

  Pretty soon now he’ll come stomping in like nothing is wrong. He’ll water the stock real quick, have a cup of coffee, and hoist his turkey on his back. Then he’ll give me a peck on the cheek, hug the children, and hike off, and probably never even think of us until he’s on his way home again next Saturday.

  “I don’t want to watch him hike off,” she continued aloud. “I’ll get up and put all his things together and go back to bed.”

  She had to stop and admire Albert’s papering, of course, and then she packed Al’s still-damp socks and other clothes. She tied his lunch in a piece of flour sack, mixed more paste for Albert, and went back to bed.

  Immediately her thoughts fell back into the same groove. He’s not the man I thought he was, but I’ll just have to make the best of it for the children’s sake. . .

  “Papa!” Albert yelled when the door opened and Al strode in.

  Emma didn’t move.

  When Al shook her shoulder, she still didn’t move. “Em! Get up! I gotta talk with you.”

  She pretended to be asleep.

  From the way he was panting, he must have run all the way home. “Emma, get up!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

  Frowning, Emma struggled to her feet.

  Al put an arm close around her shoulders and led her to the table. Then he leaned over and grasped both of her hands in his cold ones. “Listen!” he gasped. “How’d, you like to board the teacher?” He had to catch his breath again. “I talked to Pa and Ma. And to Miss Clark—Jenny. She’s willing to come and board here.”

  Emma’s head jerked up. “Board here?”

  “Yeah! Look, Em, she’d be here mornings and evenings, while you are out doing chores. Noon won’t be so, bad,
‘cause you can get the little ones down for naps and Albert can watch them.” He caught his breath again. “And you won’t be alone. If anything happened—you needed help or anything—someone else would be here.”

  Emma’s thoughts whirled. “But where would she sleep?”

  “In the loft. I told her what it was like—that it would be cold, but she said she didn’t mind. You could leave the door open, so heat would go up.”

  “But your folks—”

  “Pa’s sure put out. I think he likes Jenny’s company, but Ma never did want to board her. They took her ‘cause they were so close to the school. Of course, Ma’ll miss the money.”

  “Money?”

  “Sure! She’ll pay two dollars a month.”

  “Two dollars!”

  Al patted Emma’s cheek “I want that to be your money to buy dress goods and thread and yarn and whatever you like.”

  “Two dollars ... I could buy yards and yards of goods.”

  “Got any coffee left?”

  Emma sprang up so fast she almost knocked the chair over.

  “Papa? What’s boardin’ the teacher mean?” Albert asked, a piece of wallpaper dangling from his fingers.

  “That means letting Miss Clark stay here in our house and letting her eat with us. She’s going to come and live with us—unless your Mama doesn’t want her to.”

  “Oh, Al, you know I want her to come! I’m just so—so surprised.”

  Emma’s hand shook so badly she could hardly fill Al’s cup. She put it back on the stove. With her hands over her face she began to cry, huge gulping sobs. Then she felt Al’s arms around her.

  “Oh, Em, I was about crazy with worry. I didn’t know what to do! We need the money so bad, but if anything happened to you or one of the little ones. . .” His voice broke.

  “I—I didn’t think you cared!” she sobbed.

  “Didn’t think I cared? I never prayed so hard in my life. I hardly slept at all last night. Then, all of a sudden I remembered us talkin’ about Jenny Clark, and how you and the boys liked her. It had to be the answer to my prayers.”

  There was so much Emma wanted to say, so much she wanted to talk over with Al. But now all she could do was cry out all the tension and anger. He held her close and let her cry while Albert slipped down from the, bench and ran in crazy circles yelling, “Miss Clark is gonna live here! Miss Clark is gonna live here!” Fred and, Ellie woke up, staggered out, and in moments were running and yelling right with him.

  Al and Emma, arms entwined, watched them and laughed. After a long kiss, Al gently released her. “When’s she coming?” Emma asked.

  “I told ‘em I’d stop by on my way to camp and let ‘em know what we decided. Miss Clark said she’d come right, away—this evening, if you want her to.”

  “Oh, my goodness! I have to sweep up there and see that there’s enough covers on the bed—and what on earth will I cook for supper?”

  She started to go for the broom but came back and leaned her head against Al’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe she’d really come and stay here. It’s so far to walk! Do you think she’s doing it ‘cause she knows how bad I need her?”

  Al shrugged. “Partly, maybe. But it’s not easy to live where you aren’t welcome, you know.”

  “I’ll try real hard to make it nice for her, but our food is awful plain.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s used to plain food.” Al gave

  Emma a quick hug. “I gotta go now and water the stock.”

  Over and over, as she swept and put clean flour sack sheets and pillowcases on the bed, Emma wanted to thank God, but she couldn’t get the words out. After all the times she had choked back those prayers, He surely was as disappointed and angry with her as she had been with Him.

  When she heard Al come in, she scrambled down the narrow stairs. She wanted to creep back into his arms and never let go! And she had thought he didn’t care! It didn’t matter now that he hadn’t told her she had done well. Didn’t matter if he ever told her.

  Ellie, bewildered by all the commotion, clung to Al and cried when he picked her up to say good-bye.

  Papa’ll be home soon,” he assured her. “You watch by the window. I’ll wave at you before I get around the bend.”

  Only little Georgie was not at the window as Al hiked off.

  He was almost to the bend when he wheeled around and hurried back

  Emma bustled to the door. “What did you forget?” she called out. Time was precious. Maybe she could run and get it for him.

  He, didn’t answer. She called again but he still didn’t answer—just kept walking all the way to the lean-to door. Then he said, “I just wanted to tell you—those days. . . .” He tapped snow off his boot against the doorsill, cleared his throat, and looked up at her, eyes glistening. “Those days last week when you were hurtin’ so bad. . .you did real good, Emma.”

  With a self-conscious wave that was more like a salute, he turned and headed back down the trail.

  Emma squeezed her eyes tight a moment and tried to see him again, so she’d remember those tender, glistening eyes. Then she walked out to the lean-to door and waved until he was, out of sight.

  She wanted to stay out there, hugging his words close, cherishing the moment, but there was work to be done. She gave her eyes a quick dab with her apron and hurried back in.

  Eleven

  Jenny Moves In

  Usually after Al left each Sunday, Emma’s throat would ache until she found an opportunity to cry. Not today! She was too excited about Miss Clark’s arrival to feel lonesome.

  Once Al was out of sight, she hurried back in the house, rolled up the braided rug from beside her bed, and climbed the steep stairs. She put the rug in place and surveyed the little board-lined room. The bare window stared at her. She’d make a curtain as soon as she had time, and put a cushion on the straight-backed chair.

  She frowned at the two shelves and wished there were a chest of drawers. Maybe Miss Clark would change her mind when she saw the homemade bed, wooden pegs for clothing, and the unfinished stand with the plain white bowl and pitcher.

  Emma fluffed the pillow and straightened the patchwork quilt so the pattern lined up with the edge of the bed. Then, hands on her hips, she sighed and shivered. Even though she had left the door open downstairs, the frost on the window hadn’t begun to melt.

  Downstairs again, she filled the stove and pushed the dratf wide open. She changed her apron, smoothed her hair, washed the children’s faces and hands, changed the baby, and paced from the window to the stove.

  “Children! Children, quiet down! You’ll scare Miss Clark right back to Grandpa’s if she hears you!” Emma yelled over the din.

  She glanced at the clock. Al had been gone an hour; Miss Clark could be here any minute. She decided to start supper while she waited.

  “Hope she likes potatoes,” Emma muttered, as she peeled some for the soup. She shook the coffeepot. Thank goodness—at least two cups’ worth left.

  “Here she comes!” the boys yelled.

  Quickly Emma washed and dried her hands. “Stay in here—it’s cold outside,” she ordered. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the lean-to.

  Miss Clark was stumbling up the bumpy path. “Hello,” she called, as soon as she saw Emma.

  “Hello!” Emma called back, striving to keep the nervousness out of her voice. “Here! Let me take your bag.”

  “Oh, no! I’ll carry it,” Miss Clark insisted. “Your husband told us about your back. Is it better?”

  “Oh, yes,” Emma assured her. In the dim room she introduced the now quiet children. Little Al smiled, but Fred and Ellie simply stared. Emma motioned to the cradle. “This is Georgie. He’s almost three months.”

  Miss Clark nodded and smiled, but she didn’t try to start a conversation with the little ones as she unbuttoned her coat.

  Emma tried not to stare at her tiny waist and pretty white blouse. “Will you have a cup of coffee?”

  “W
ell. . .I rarely drink coffee, but just this once I will.”

  Thank goodness, Emma thought as she went to get cups. There isn’t much left.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re going to stay with us. I could hardly believe that you’d be willing to—it’s so much farther to walk, and your room will, be awfully cold, and we eat plain food and. . .”

  Miss Clark chuckled and waved her slender hand as she sat down with a swish of her long black skirt. “Believe me, none of those things compare with—” She stopped, midsentence, and glanced toward the children.

  Emma smiled and nodded. “I know,” she said.

  Miss Clark returned her smile and nod. They both knew Grandma Verleger.

  Ellie clamored to get up on Emma’s lap, and the boys hovered nearby.

  “I hope you like potato soup.”

  “Oh, I do! Please don’t worry about the food. Give me enough milk to drink, an egg for breakfast, plenty of potatoes and bread, and I’m happy. Of course, it would be nice to have a raw onion sandwich when I get home from school each afternoon.”