Winter Is Not Forever Read online

  I swallowed hard. “It wasn’t Mrs. Foggelson’s idea to stay behind. Mr. Foggelson had found a—a ‘more compatible’ someone.”

  I heard Aunt Lou’s little gasp; then her eyes brimmed with tears. “The poor soul,” she whispered.

  “She has never breathed one word about it,” Aunt Lou continued. “It must be terribly hard for her—folks all blaming her, and all.”

  I nodded.

  Just then Jon came toddling into the kitchen. His eyes were still bright from sleep, his cheeks rosy, his hair rumpled, and his clothes slightly damp from the warmth of his bed. He dragged a lumpy-looking discarded doll of Sarah’s behind him, and when he saw us his eyes lit up and he headed straight for Grandpa.

  He was met by open arms and Grandpa cuddled him close and kissed his flushed cheeks.

  “Thought yer goin’ to sleep the whole day away, Boy,” Grandpa told him. “ ’Fraid I wasn’t even goin’ to get to see ya.”

  Jon pointed at the cookie plate and then squirmed to get down. I was flattered when he ran to me as soon as his little legs hit the floor. But my ego didn’t stay inflated for long. It turned out I was closer to the cookie plate than Grandpa, and as soon as I picked the little boy up, his pudgy hands were grabbing for all the cookies on the plate.

  I settled him back and removed all of them except one, then pushed the plate out of reach. He lay back against me, munching on his cookie.

  I held him until he was finished and then Grandpa stood. “We best be gettin’ on home, Boy,” he said, studying the clock on the wall.

  “Have you started the harvest yet?” asked Aunt Lou as Grandpa retrieved his stained, floppy hat.

  I knew that the question was directed at me. I was the one who made the major decisions at the farm now. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, without really saying so, had handed the reins to me.

  “Not yet. Hope to get going just as soon as it dries.”

  “Expecting a good yield?”

  “Looks good so far, if the frost just stays away.”

  “Suppose you’ll be pretty busy for the next few weeks then,” continued Aunt Lou.

  “Expect to be.”

  “We won’t be seeing much of you for a while.”

  “Only on Sundays.”

  “Maybe I can sneak out and give you a hand now and then,” she continued. “Sure would be nice if you had some regular help.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. I hoped Aunt Lou didn’t think that she was being subtle. It was all too obvious what she was hinting at. It was also obvious that she was on Grandpa’s side.

  CHAPTER 20

  Changes

  GRANDPA DIDN’T WASTE much time in presenting his idea to Uncle Charlie. I had wondered just how he would go about it. I figured he’d wait until I had gone up to bed and the two of them were sitting around the kitchen table having their last cup of coffee. I even had the notion that I’d like to slip down the stairs and sit on the step to hear his presentation.

  But he didn’t choose to do it like that. Perhaps he knew Uncle Charlie so well he decided that if it came to pick and choose, Uncle Charlie would side with him rather than me.

  At any rate, we had just finished up the chores and the supper dishes and Uncle Charlie had hung the dishpan back on the hook when Grandpa came right out with it.

  “I suggested to Josh today on the way to town that it might be a good idea to get ourselves a little help.”

  My mouth fell open at Grandpa’s directness, but it didn’t seem to throw Uncle Charlie a bit. He never missed a beat, just went right on swishing the dishrag over the checkered oilcloth that covered the table.

  “What kind of help?” he asked.

  “Cooking. Cleaning. Help with harvest and canning.” “Anyone in mind?” asked Uncle Charlie. I was surprised when I looked at him that he had a twinkle in his eye. “Mary Turley,” said Grandpa.

  “Oh,” said Uncle Charlie with the same twinkle, “then I take it yer dependin’ on Josh to bring in the help, not you?”

  I started to say something but Grandpa cut me short. “What’re you aimin’ at?”

  “Aimin’? Why, I ain’t aimin’ at anything. I thought the way you started off that you was aimin’ to bring a wife fer someone into this here house.”

  “A wife?” snorted Grandpa. “Fiddlesticks! Josh can get his own wife.”

  “I’m glad we’re all clear on that,” I said with a bit of goodnatured sarcasm.

  “Then what did you have in mind?” asked Uncle Charlie, giving the table one final lick with the cloth.

  “A hired girl,” stated Grandpa.

  “Oh,” said Uncle Charlie. Just “Oh.”

  “Mary Turley says she’s willin’ to work out fer a spell,” went on Grandpa.

  “Still think my idea is a more permanent arrangement,” smiled Uncle Charlie. “How long do you expect a girl like Mary Turley—an’ at her age—to be available to babysit three bachelors?”

  “Ain’t babysittin’!” protested Grandpa. Uncle Charlie didn’t even seem to notice.

  “How do we pay her?” he asked, and I held my breath. Here was the craziest part of Grandpa’s scheme in my way of thinking. Wait until Uncle Charlie heard the whole story!

  “We board the new teacher,” said Grandpa matter-offactly.

  Those words stopped even Uncle Charlie. He straightened up as far as his crippled back would allow and looked sharply at Grandpa.

  I could see the questions in his eyes, but he didn’t voice them. Grandpa took the opportunity to hurry on.

  “We got two extry rooms here. The schoolteacher gits one, the hired girl the other. That way neither of ’em are put off ’bout living in a house with three men. Then we take the board payment from the teacher an’ pay the hired girl. Works good for everyone.”

  Uncle Charlie snorted. I knew he had some doubts.

  “Where’s the flaw?” asked Grandpa a little heatedly.

  I could hold back no longer. I leaned forward in my chair and laid my hands out on the table. “It’s a crazy scheme. A crazy scheme,” I informed Uncle Charlie. “We’ve got no business filling our house up with women. We’ve gotten along all of these years, and I see no reason why we still can’t. They’ll just come in here and start putting on white tablecloths and asking us to take off our work boots an’ starching all the shirts an’—”

  I hadn’t run out of steam, but Uncle Charlie moved away from both of us. I thought that he was dismissing the whole crazy idea, but he was just hanging up the dishrag.

  As he approached the table I started in again. “I know it’s tough for a while at harvest, but harvest doesn’t last long, and we can always get help. I’ll bet we can get Mrs.—”

  “I hope not,” cut in Uncle Charlie. “Nearly drove me crazy, that woman.”

  “Then we’ll get someone else. There are lots of women who cook out at harvest time. We’ll—”

  “Name me a few,” said Grandpa. “Remember the time we had finding someone last harvest?”

  It was a sobering fact. We’d had a tough time. All of the neighborhood women were busy with canning and their own threshers every fall.

  “Well, we still don’t need someone to live in, to stay here and change everything about our lives. We have our own way of doing things. Our own routine. We wouldn’t feel like it was even our house anymore.”

  Uncle Charlie lowered himself slowly to a chair at the table. I could see that his back was giving him pain again.

  “And where would we put them?” I went on. “The upstairs bedroom is Aunt Lou’s and the downstairs one”—I waved at the door of the small room off the kitchen—“is Gramps’.”

  Uncle Charlie didn’t seem to be listening to me and Grandpa wasn’t saying much.

  “We don’t even know what this here new teacher will be like. She might—she might be—disgusting.”

  I couldn’t think of anything specific to charge her with. Uncle Charlie raised his eyebrows at that and turned his gaze toward Grandpa. Grandpa understood
his unanswered question and responded.

  “ ’Course I checked her out. I wouldn’t want her spittin’ tobaccy through the cracks, now, would I?”

  Uncle Charlie’s mustache twitched slightly, and I knew he was hiding a smile.

  “She’s from a good Christian home over near Edgeworth. She’s got high recommendations, and hopes to become part of our church. She asked about stayin’ in a Christian home when she applied here,” went on Grandpa.

  Still, Uncle Charlie looked a bit doubtful for a moment. He spoke for the first time for several minutes.

  “Her folks would okay her staying on here?”

  “We been checked out,” said Grandpa frankly.

  “What family would let their young girl stay with three old bachelors?” I argued. “Surely they—”

  “Let’s do it,” said Uncle Charlie.

  I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “What do you think, Josh?” Uncle Charlie surprised me by turning to me. Hadn’t he been listening to a thing I’d said?

  “He said it was your kitchen, and your decision,” Grandpa answered on my behalf.

  “Did ya?” Uncle Charlie looked squarely at me.

  “Yeah, but—” I began.

  “Then let’s do it,” Uncle Charlie said again, emphatically. “I think it’s time we had a woman here in this house.”

  I was stunned. I couldn’t believe Uncle Charlie had let Grandpa talk him into something so foolish. Then it began to dawn on me that Grandpa really said very little. I had been doing most of the talking, and I might have just talked myself right into a corner.

  I was even more sure of it when I was preparing for bed and Uncle Charlie’s voice drifted up the stairs to me.

  “I’m worried some about Josh,” he said.

  “Meaning?” asked Grandpa.

  “Did ya hear ’im? Sounded like he was scared of women—or else thinks thet they are a curse rather than a blessin’. Talked all thet silly stuff ’bout them messin’ up his routine.”

  “Yer right,” sighed Grandpa. “Guess Lou is the only woman Josh has really had much to do with.”

  “Hope we ain’t too late,” said Uncle Charlie and there was genuine concern in his voice.

  I reached out and closed my bedroom door. Uncle Charlie’s words made me angry, but I began to feel a little scared, too. Did I really feel that way about women? Was it too late? It was true that I dreaded the thought of sharing the house with two of the opposite sex. But why? I loved Aunt Lou. I loved little Sarah. I loved—or had loved—Camellia. What was I afraid of—fighting against?

  And then it hit me. Uncle Charlie hadn’t been so fond of the idea, either. I could see it in his face. But without even arguing, he suddenly said, “Let’s do it.” And I was the reason. Uncle Charlie might not like a woman coming in and taking over his work and putting him aside. He might even feel useless and not needed any longer, but he was willing to sacrifice the way he felt because he was worried that I was developing unhealthy attitudes.

  I decided that I wouldn’t say any more about the arrangements and when Grandpa asked me straight out, I told him to go ahead and do whatever he thought it wise to do. I was pretty sure what that would be.

  Mary moved in first. Grandpa went over with the wagon and fetched her. She came with a small suitcase and a worn trunk, and I helped Grandpa haul it in.

  I didn’t feel too uncomfortable with Mary. After all, we had known one another since we were kids and she was a member of our church and all. It wasn’t like a complete stranger coming into our home. Still, it was hard to adjust to having someone else around.

  She chose the downstairs bedroom because she said it made more sense for her to be close by the kitchen, seeing as she would spend most of her time there.

  We didn’t need to worry about Mary knowing how to do household chores. She had been tending house since she had been a young girl. She moved in and took over that kitchen, yet I had to admire her—she didn’t push Uncle Charlie aside. She asked this and praised that until she had him wrapped around her little finger. Didn’t take long, either. And she found him more little jobs to keep him busy than I would have ever thought possible.

  They worked there in the kitchen together. I could hear them chatting and chuckling each time that I came near the house. It upset me a bit at first; then I began to realize how good it was for Uncle Charlie, and I started being thankful for Mary and her sensitivity.

  Special treats began to show up at the table, too—green tomato relish and fresh butter tarts and oven-baked squash. Uncle Charlie had done his best, but Mary’s best was definitely better.

  Mary had been there only a week when the new teacher moved in. Mary had already busied herself cleaning Aunt Lou’s room until it sparkled. She even put in a small bouquet of fall flowers and a tiny basket of polished apples.

  Mary may have been excited, but I was dreading the thought of sharing a house with a finicky schoolmarm. I made myself scarce the day Miss Matilda Hopkins was to arrive. I wanted to be as far away from the house as possible. It wasn’t hard to do. We were already into harvest, and I had lots to keep me busy.

  Miss Hopkins was to arrive by train, and Grandpa volunteered to go to the station to meet her.

  I worked late. The supper hour came and went, but I purposely paid no heed to it. It was still light enough to work the field, so I just stayed working. Even though my stomach was complaining bitterly, I disregarded it. I was in no hurry to get to a kitchen overrun by women.

  When it finally got too dark to see any longer, I unhitched the team and headed for the barn. I took my time watering and feeding the horses and giving them a good rubdown. A quick check around told me that Grandpa had already cared for the other chores. Normally I would have been thankful for that but tonight it just irked me a bit. I would have no excuse to escape the kitchen.

  I finally headed for the house, grumpy and dirty. I knew that introductions would be in order and I also knew that I sure didn’t look my best. Well, I didn’t care. What difference could it make to some old-maid schoolteacher anyway?

  I stomped my way across the back veranda and pulled open the door. The kitchen was empty, except for Grandpa and Uncle Charlie.

  “Working kinda late,” Grandpa observed.

  I stared around rather dumbly, but I wasn’t going to ask any questions. I crossed to the corner basin and poured myself a generous amount of water. Then I set about sloshing it thoroughly over my hands and face. When I looked up I noticed that I had also sloshed Mary’s well-scrubbed floor and spic-andspan washstand. I pretended not to notice and moved toward the table.

  “Where’s supper?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Supper was over a couple hours ago,” said Grandpa, not even looking up from the paper he had gotten from somewhere.

  “Yours is in the warmin’ oven,” said Uncle Charlie around his section of the paper.

  I crossed to the warming oven and found a generous serving. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I saw and smelled the food. Even so, my good sense told me that it had been much better a couple of hours earlier. Well, that wasn’t Mary’s fault, I had to admit.

  “Where’d you get the paper?” I asked around a mouthful.

  “Matilda,” said Grandpa.

  “Matilda?”

  Grandpa just grunted.

  “You mean Miss Hopkins?”

  “She wants to be called Matilda,” Grandpa spoke again. There was silence as the two men pored over their sections of paper. We didn’t often see a daily paper in our house, and they seemed to find this one awfully intriguing.

  “So she arrived, huh?” I tried again.

  “Yep,” said Uncle Charlie; then he began to read aloud to Grandpa some bit of interesting news that he found in the paper. Grandpa listened and then they read in silence again. Soon it was Grandpa’s turn to read some little bit to Uncle Charlie. I expected they had been sitting there doing that all evening, and I also expected they would keep right on d
oing it. Some exciting evening this was going to be!

  I finished my meal and pushed my plate back. “Any dessert?” I asked.

  Grandpa waved a hand that still clutched the paper. “On the cupboard,” he said and never even looked up.

  I found fresh custard pie—my favorite—and helped myself to a large piece. That was one nice thing about having Mary around—she sure could bake a pie! I had a second piece.

  The two men still hadn’t stirred except to read to one another every now and then. They were really enjoying that paper.

  My eyes traveled to Mary’s bedroom door. It was open a crack and I could see a neatly made bed and the small desk in the corner of the room. It was clear that Mary was not at home.

  Finally I could stand it no longer.

  “Kind of quiet,” I said. “Where is everyone?”

  Grandpa lowered his paper just enough to look over it at me. “We’re here,” he said simply.

  I blushed and ran a hand through my unruly hair. But Grandpa still didn’t pay much attention to me.

  Uncle Charlie folded his section of paper carefully and laid it on the table beside him. He removed his tiny round reading glasses.

  “You know,” he said to Grandpa, “I think Matilda’s right. A man does need to read the daily paper to keep up with what is goin’ on in the world. I can’t believe all the things I’ve learned in just one night.”

  Grandpa grunted his agreement and shuffled through some more paper.

  I carried my empty pie plate to the cupboard and piled it with my dinner plate—more out of habit than consideration. I was about to say I was going up to bed when Grandpa looked up.

  “Oh, Josh,” he said, “Mary took Matilda over to her folks to introduce her. I let them hook Chester to the light buggy. Hope you don’t mind.”

  I just stood there letting the words sink in. Not only were they taking over my kitchen and my house, but my horse, as well! Anger welled up within me, but at the same time I realized how juvenile it was to feel the way I did. I calmed myself, muttered some kind of reply to Grandpa, and started to climb the stairs.