Julia's Last Hope Page 2

  “Then why—?”

  “It’s just odd for a girl your age—our age—to be sober all the time.”

  Jennifer considered the charge. Perhaps she was a bit sober for her age, but most of the things the girls discussed did not interest her, and statements that sent other girls into spasms of laughter weren’t even funny to her. After thinking for a few minutes, Jennifer shrugged her slim shoulders.

  “Maybe I am odd,” she said softly.

  Felicity gave her a comforting nudge. “Oh, you are not. You just don’t like boys.” Then, as an afterthought, added, “Yet.”

  Jennifer’s head came up and defiance tilted her chin. “I like boys,” she declared. “I just don’t see the point of making silly statements and giggling over them, that’s all.”

  Felicity shrugged. This conversation was going nowhere, and she didn’t like to be boxed in. Responding to the restlessness within her, she reached one foot to the porch floor and gave the swing another push. It had been moving much too slowly to suit her.

  “Do you think Mama will let us get that green organdy for new Sunday dresses?” she asked.

  Jennifer was used to Felicity’s quickly changing moods and her jumps from one topic to another. She picked up on both immediately.

  “Oh, I hope so,” she said with shining eyes, lowering her foot to add her push to the swing. “I have never seen such a pretty color.”

  “Blue looks better on us,” stated Felicity, pulling at a strand of her long hair.

  Jennifer nodded. It was true. But the green was so beautiful—so rich looking—and they had so many blue dresses.

  “Do you think Mama would take us today?” asked Felicity, her face brightening with the thought. “It’s such a beautiful morning.”

  Jennifer widened her eyes in support of the idea; then she placed a hand on Felicity’s arm as though to restrain her from a sudden dash to the parlor.

  “Mama’s hemming the new tablecloth,” she reminded her sister. “She wants it finished by next Sunday when the preacher’s family comes for dinner.”

  Felicity sighed. It would not be right to ask Mama to stop her work and walk to the shops just to buy their green material.

  “What should we do then?” asked Felicity, boredom touching her voice.

  “I suppose we could clean our room,” Jennifer suggested, giving her twin a brief sideways glance.

  “We’ve cleaned our room,” Felicity groaned.

  “We’ve picked up our things and made our beds,” Jennifer corrected. “But you know what your closet looks like—and Mama said—”

  “Oh, bother!” exclaimed Felicity. “Why bring that up again?”

  “Because it’s still not done,” Jennifer scolded.

  “Just because your closet looks like it’s never been used—”

  “That’s because I keep it tidy as I go,” lectured Jennifer. “You could do that too if you just took a bit of time.”

  “Time!” Felicity exploded. “Who has time to stop and—?”

  “I do. And so do you. It’s much easier to hang it up or put it away when it’s still in your hand than to pick it up later.”

  Felicity glared. She put out a foot, stopped the swing with a jerk, and stood up. “You sure know how to spoil a nice day,” she fumed.

  Jennifer did not look offended. She knew all about Felicity’s moods, and this one was harmless. Soon Felicity would be asking her to join in some exciting caper. Jennifer stayed seated, her hand resting lightly on the wooden arm of the swing.

  “I will help you if you wish,” she offered.

  Felicity expected that. Jennifer was always helping someone after she had already done her own work. Felicity didn’t stop to analyze the situation or even to consider herself privileged. She shrugged. “Let’s get it over with then.”

  Jennifer stepped from the swing and followed her sister to the offending closet in their bedroom.

  Jennifer took charge. She moved everything from the closet floor and placed it in a heaping pile before her sister. “Here,” she said. “Sort it out. Make a pile of the things that aren’t worth saving. I’ll hang your clothes properly.”

  Felicity didn’t argue. She dropped to the floor and began to rummage through her possessions. Felicity was a collector. She treasured things. How could she throw away all these items that represented a part of her life? She looked dismally at the dried wild flowers, still stuffed in a little glass vase, long since void of water. Harley George had given her the field flowers at the school spring picnic. Felicity blushed as she thought about her stammered response. And now Harley was gone. His parents had moved away. How could she throw out his flowers?

  Felicity’s eyes moved to the news clippings carelessly tossed in a hat box. They told about a young man from Europe who had visited their area to challenge the local mountain peaks. Jennifer and Felicity had stood on the station platform along with a number of other local youngsters and watched him and his party as they unloaded their gear. He had been so dashing! So adventuresome! For a moment Felicity had longed to be a boy—or to make him realize she was a girl. She fingered the clippings and wondered where adventure had taken Erik Eriksen after his visit to Canada.

  Felicity reached for a hair bow. She wouldn’t think of wearing it now. It was much too childish, but it had been a favorite. She looked at the stain on one end. Claude Singer had dipped it in the inkwell—just to get her attention. All the girls had liked Claude—but hers was the only ribbon he had dipped.

  With a big sigh, Felicity scooped her treasures to her, knowing she would be unable to discard any of them. “What we need is separate rooms,” she announced.

  Jennifer stopped her sorting and shifting of dresses and poked her head out the closet door.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. They had always shared a room even though the big house had three additional bedrooms. They had never wanted their own rooms—had never wanted to be apart. The thought frightened Jennifer now.

  “There isn’t enough room in this dinky closet,” insisted Felicity.

  “It’s the same size as mine.”

  “Yes, but you—” Felicity stopped. How could she express the fact that Jennifer didn’t have treasures without sounding harsh?

  “I what?” demanded Jennifer.

  Felicity fumbled for words. “You—you don’t have—have as many things to put away.”

  “That’s because I throw out the junk,” Jennifer stated.

  “It’s not junk,” Felicity insisted.

  Jennifer sighed. She knew Felicity was more sentimental about things than she was. At the same time she knew that Felicity was often more impatient with people. It was people and their feelings that mattered most to Jennifer, and now it was Mama she was thinking of. Mama had asked Felicity to clean her closet, and Mama would be upset if it was not done. And Felicity might even be assigned a second chore if the first was not completed in the allotted time. Yet Jennifer hated to get caught in the middle. She had to gently maneuver, suggest, and involve Felicity, although Jennifer would have preferred to work on the mess herself. But that wouldn’t set well with Mama.

  Jennifer felt trapped.

  “I have a little extra space on my shelf,” she sighed. “Why don’t we put everything you want to keep in a small box and set it in my closet?”

  Felicity looked relieved.

  It took some skill to fit them all in the box, but they managed to do so. Felicity still had her treasures. Jennifer stacked a few of her own hat boxes to make the extra one fit on her shelf. Finally the task was done. Felicity’s closet looked as neat and tidy as her own, Jennifer thought. And there hadn’t been a scene over the doing. She felt relief as she closed the closet door and suggested to Felicity that they get some lemonade to take with them to the back porch.

  As they passed the east parlor they heard voices. “That sounds like Papa!” exclaimed Felicity.

  Jennifer glanced at the hall clock. “He shouldn’t be home at this time of day,” she rem
inded Felicity.

  Felicity tossed her head and hurried toward the door. What did it matter what time it was? It was always nice to have Papa home. Perhaps he had some delightful surprise. Perhaps—

  The two girls arrived at the parlor door just in time to hear the stunned voice of their father say, “The mill is closing.”

  Chapter Three

  Changes

  “Closing? What do you mean?” Julia asked, her voice calm and even.

  John’s voice was not as calm as he answered her. “Closing! Shutting down! Finished!” he declared, his words tight and clipped.

  Julia understood then. Not about the mill, but about John. John was worried. She had to do something to help him. She crossed the room and laid a hand on his tense arm.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It will be all right.”

  John sank into a nearby chair. He shook his head as though to contradict his wife’s statement of assurance.

  She sat beside him, her hand stroking his sleeve.

  “Everything will be all right,” she insisted.

  “You don’t understand,” he argued.

  “Yes, I think I do,” she responded.

  He looked directly into her eyes. “What did I say?” he challenged her. He had never spoken to her in such a manner before.

  Julia swallowed hard. Then, with a voice as steady as she could summon, answered, “You said the mill is closing. Is going to shut down. Is finished.” She found it difficult to keep her chin from quivering, her eyes from filling with tears.

  “You must be in shock, just as I was. You still don’t understand. But when—”

  “I am not in shock,” she said firmly. “I am in my right mind. The mill will close. That means you will be without a job.”

  She held his eyes evenly, daring him to challenge her again. “I know we will be fine,” she insisted, and gave his sleeve a tiny tug, hoping to bring them both back to reality. “You can get another job. You have fine references.”

  “Jule—all I know is lumber,” he reminded her, his voice patient again in spite of their circumstance.

  “And that is enough,” Julia said.

  “The mill is closing, Julia.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I knew we didn’t have as much lumber as we should, but this…” His voice trailed away; then he looked directly at Julia. “If the timber supply is gone, there will not be another mill opening up to take its place.”

  Julia would not be deterred. “There are still mills in other towns. There will always be mills. The world can’t get along without lumber.”

  “The other mills already have workers.”

  “If there is no job in lumber—you can learn something else. You have a good mind—and a strong back. There will be other jobs—somewhere.”

  “Yes,” he admitted, “I could—if it wasn’t for the house.”

  “We can sell the house and buy another,” offered Julia with a shrug of her slight shoulders. She hoped that John did not read the agony in her eyes. She loved their house. Their home.

  He shook his head slowly, pain showing in his eyes. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. Without the mill, the town will die. There will be no sale for the houses, any of them. The property will be worthless—useless. It will become a ghost town.”

  His words made Julia’s breath catch in her throat. Her hand on his sleeve trembled slightly and her eyes misted. Then her chin lifted and determination returned to her eyes.

  “God has always provided for us,” she declared fervently. “He will not forsake us now—when we need Him the most. Although the news is—is crushing, He will show us what we must do. Of that I am sure.”

  Her words, spoken with such conviction, eased the tension in John’s face. “Oh, Jule,” he whispered softly and drew her into his arms.

  “You’ll see. Everything will work out.” She stroked his hair and pressed her cheek against his.

  Neither of them saw the two girls standing in the doorway. And neither heard them retreat as they turned as one and left for their own room.

  Jennifer broke the silence. Her face was ashen, her eyes filled with fear. “What will we do?” she whispered hoarsely.

  Felicity had thrown herself face down on her bed and was sobbing uncontrollably.

  Jennifer hastened to her and placed a protective arm around her sister’s shaking shoulders.

  “Shh, shh. It’s all right.”

  “I don’t want to move away,” sobbed Felicity. “I like it here. My friends—”

  Jennifer stroked her sister’s long blond hair. “We might not have to move,” she soothed.

  “You heard Papa,” sobbed Felicity.

  “You heard Mama,” responded Jennifer. “God will show us what to do. He knows all about the mill. Perhaps Papa will find another job—”

  “You heard Papa,” Felicity countered. “The mill is all he knows.”

  “You heard Mama,” Jennifer repeated. “Papa could learn another trade.”

  “We would still have to move,” Felicity argued, her sobs growing louder.

  “Stop! Stop! Listen to me,” Jennifer commanded, shaking Felicity by the shoulder. “Mama and Papa will hear you and they will feel even worse than they do now. We’ve got to think about them right now. Please stop!”

  Felicity could not stop, but she did quiet down a bit. Her sobs became softer, her body more relaxed.

  Jennifer walked to the window. She lifted a trembling hand to brush aside the pale blue curtains and look out over the scene below. Her eyes scanned the street, the neighboring houses, the small town with its church spire and school yard, the mountainside that rose in the distance. She loved it here too. Tears welled up in her eyes. She would hate it so if they had to leave. Why did the mill have to close? Why couldn’t things continue as they always had? They had lived here for as long as she could remember. Surely there was some way for them to continue living the life they had always known. Her hand relaxed, and the curtain fell back into place. Jennifer squared her shoulders and turned to Felicity. “If we have to go—we must make it as easy for Mama and Papa as possible.”

  Felicity brushed at her tears and nodded her head.

  “You can take your treasures with you,” continued Jennifer, trying to console her brokenhearted sister.

  A fresh torrent of tears ran down Felicity’s cheeks. “But I—I can’t take my friends or—”

  “But if everyone has to move—perhaps our friends will be going with us,” Jennifer said to her sister.

  “Where?” Felicity sobbed.

  “I—I don’t know. To wherever we have to go. To another mill. Their papas work in the mill too,” Jennifer reminded Felicity.

  Felicity began mopping up. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose noisily. Jennifer was glad that the worst of the storm was spent. She crossed to her sister and laid a loving hand on her shoulder.

  “We’ll be all right,” she assured Felicity again, wishing with all her heart that she felt as confident as her words sounded.

  Felicity nodded. She pushed herself up from the bed and straightened her skirts. Then she went to the dresser, picked up a hairbrush, and brushed her hair into place. “I’m going to go wash my face,” she told Jennifer. When she returned a short while later she showed no trace of her tears.

  Jennifer wished that she could dismiss the incident as easily. Inside, she still felt knotted, twisted. In spite of her brave words to Felicity, she did not feel assurance about their future.

  “Let’s ask Mama if we can go get that green—” began Felicity.

  Jennifer stopped her with a quick shake of her head. “Not now!” she exclaimed. “Papa has no job.”

  Felicity looked surprised, as though she had already forgotten their circumstance, but then her eyes softened and she nodded her head in agreement.

  “I guess that would be unthinkable,” she finished lamely. “Well then, let’s ask if we can go to the drugstore for a soda,” she continued. “Surely we can still afford that.”


  Jennifer gave her a dark look, and Felicity stared back at her.

  “Felicity Harrigan,” said Jennifer sternly, “we are thirteen years of age. Surely we can be understanding when our parents are in trouble.”

  Felicity shrugged. “Okay, okay,” she said impatiently, “so what are you going to do to make things right, Miss Know-It-All?”

  “I—I don’t know it all,” stammered Jennifer. “I—I just know that we can’t be asking for things when Papa is without a job. There will be no money—”

  Felicity’s eyes brightened. “That’s it!” she squealed, and threw her arms around Jennifer’s shoulders.

  “That’s what?” questioned Jennifer.

  “Jobs! We are old enough to have jobs. We can help Papa.”

  Jennifer held herself in check for a moment; then she hugged Felicity in return.

  “Of course!” she agreed. “Of course. We can find jobs.”

  “Let’s not tell them,” suggested Felicity; “not until we each have found a place to work.”

  “But—” began Jennifer.

  “We will talk to Hettie. Tell her that we are going up town for a soda and she can tell Mama.”

  “But—” began Jennifer again. She would not lie—even to conceal their plans of helping the family.

  “And we will get a soda,” continued Felicity, walking to her dresser and opening a drawer. “Here,” she said, producing some coins. “I have enough for a soda. It’s from what Papa gave me last week.”

  Jennifer had never known Felicity to keep any of her spending money. But there were the coins in her hand. It reminded Jennifer that she too had money stashed in her drawer. But even as she thought of it she decided to leave the money where it was. Who knew how soon her papa would find another job? Perhaps her money would be needed for things other than sodas.

  “Okay,” she finally conceded. “Let’s go see Hettie.”

  As they proceeded to the kitchen, Jennifer’s mind was troubled. Never before had they made their own plans and gone off to the drug store without asking permission from their mother. Jennifer hoped that Felicity’s idea—as good as it seemed—did not get them both in trouble.