Winter Is Not Forever Page 4

  She very quickly lost her redness and her wrinkles, and soon she had a soft, pinkish look and a little round head capped with dark downy hair. She opened her eyes more, too; often she would lie in my arms and look at my face as if she knew just who I was and how I fit into her life. I loved it when she looked at me that way; if no one was close enough to hear, I’d talk to her and tell her things about myself so that she really would know me. We all adored her—after all, we all loved Lou, and had waited for this special baby for a long time.

  I expected that now it would be even harder to study, and in some ways it was. But suddenly it became very important for me to get good grades as I left the school system and went out into the world. I wouldn’t have admitted it to a soul, but I didn’t want Sarah to ever have reason to be ashamed of me. So I pitched into those textbooks like I’d never done in my whole life—and it worked, too. I ended up with the best set of marks I had ever gotten.

  Willie dropped by now and then. Sometimes we studied together, and we played with Sarah, but mostly we just took a break from our books and talked. One Thursday afternoon he tapped on my window, and I could tell just by looking that he was really excited about something. I pushed back my Advanced Speller and opened the window.

  “Is Sarah sleepin’?” Willie asked.

  I nodded.

  “Then come out.” Willie didn’t want to take any chances on his excitement waking the baby.

  I eased the window back down quietly and headed for the back door.

  “What is it?” I asked as soon as I was clear of the kitchen.

  “Mary,” beamed Willie. “She became a Christian.”

  Now I knew why Willie was excited. I was excited, too. We gave each other a big hug, pounding one another on the back. Mary had been coming to church every Sunday since she had been to the Youth Group with Willie.

  “When?” I asked when I could speak.

  “Just this afternoon. I came to tell you just as soon as I could.”

  I slapped Willie on the back again. I couldn’t help but think how happy I would feel if I had the same good news about Camellia.

  “That’s great!” I said. “Just great.”

  Afraid that my tears might show, I pulled away and headed for the backyard swing that Uncle Charlie had built for Lou. Willie followed me without a word; I guess he knew I was feeling rather emotional.

  Avoiding Willie’s eyes, I gave a little push with one foot to start the swing in gentle motion and looked at it carefully like I had never done in the past. Uncle Charlie was skilled with simple tools. Each board was carefully fashioned and properly joined. The arm where my hand rested was polished smooth and shaped for comfort. I ran my hand idly over it, wondering if Uncle Charlie would ever be able to hold a hammer or a plane again. Then my thoughts jerked back to the present.

  “What do her folks think?” I asked Willie.

  “I don’t know about her pa. He hasn’t said much. But her ma says that it’s Mary’s decision and that she’ll support her in her new faith. I think she wishes that she had the courage to make the commitment herself. She must have done a great deal of thinking when she was so ill.”

  “I suppose,” I agreed.

  “Mary is already praying for her ma. She says it’s just a matter of time, she knows, until her ma will become a Christian too. She says she thinks that her ma has been searching for God for a long time, just hasn’t known where or how to find Him. An’ now that Mary knows, she can help her ma.”

  The excitement had grown in Willie’s voice again. His eyes were shining.

  “Josh,” he said, “this is the first person that I have talked to about my faith, the first one to become a Christian because of it. It’s—it’s—well, it is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me.”

  I had never had the experience myself, although I had tried— with Camellia, with her ma, even with Jack Berry in prison by letter after I finally forgave him. None of those had worked. I still prayed for all of them, though.

  “Does Mary feel called to the mission field too?” I asked. Willie looked just a bit puzzled.

  “I dunno,” he answered.

  “Isn’t that—isn’t that pretty important?”

  “Well, she needs to learn a bit more about being a Christian before she thinks about where God wants her, don’t you think?”

  “But you already know where God wants you,” I pressed. “So?” said Willie with a shrug.

  “So it just might be important where He wants your girl.” “My girl?” Willie really seemed confused now.

  “Mary!” I said impatiently to jog his failing memory. “The girl you just brought to the faith. Mary! If you are going to train to be a missionary, then perhaps it would be a bit handy if your girl would be one, too.”

  Willie looked dumbfounded.

  “Mary isn’t my girl,” he said at last.

  “What?”

  “Where’d you ever get that idea?”

  “From you,” I said. “You brought her to Youth Group and you’ve been bringing her to church an’ you—”

  “But she’s not my girl.”

  “Does Mary know that?” I threw back at Willie.

  “Of course! We’re just friends. Mary’s understood that all along. We talked it over the first night I asked her to Youth Group.”

  “And you came together as friends?” It seemed preposterous to me. “You mean you brought her and talked to her and shared your faith, just as a friend? Not because you liked her?”

  Willie shook his head as though he couldn’t believe just how stupid I was.

  “Josh, you don’t just share your faith with girls you want to go out with.” Willie couldn’t hide his grin, even though he was a bit impatient with me. “I brought Mary to the Youth Group because she is a great girl, a good friend—one who has never really had a chance. She never attended church. Never got to spend time with those of us from the church. How else was she going to hear?”

  “I just thought—” I interrupted. “Well, everyone thought that you liked Mary—special like.”

  “I couldn’t court a non-Christian girl, and you know it, Josh. You know that God wants me to be a missionary. How could

  I be a missionary if I went and got sweet on a girl and married her and she didn’t even share my faith? Why—”

  “I had thought of it,” I admitted. “It didn’t make much sense to me either.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes and then I dared to say, “Well, she’s a Christian now, so if you decide you do like her— no problem.”

  Willie stepped from the swing, making it stop with a jarring movement. His hand reached up to smooth back his hair. I recognized the movement as one of exasperation.

  “Okay, okay,” I said quickly before Willie had a chance to speak. “So she stays a friend.”

  I got off the swing too and started back to the house.

  “I guess I’d better get back to the books,” I said defensively. “Only two more exams left.”

  Willie grinned. “I know. You want to get a 99 again.”

  I blushed.

  “Where’s it taking you, Josh?” asked Willie. “What?” I stopped and eyed Willie.

  “I shouldn’t have asked it like that,” continued Willie. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I was just wondering if you knew something that you were holding back. Thought maybe you were trying for admittance in some super college where you needed great marks or somethin’.”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t even applied to any colleges. “You still don’t know?”

  I shook my head again.

  “I’ll keep praying for you, Josh,” Willie said, slapping my shoulder.

  “Thanks.” I headed back to my bedroom and the open textbook.

  I envied Willie. He already knew exactly what God wanted for him. He had no problem figuring out what to do in order to prepare himself. He could just plunge right on, getting himself ready for the task.

  When graduation finally di
d arrive, I felt all strange. On the one hand I was excited about having completed high school. There were some awfully nice and embarrassing things said about me at the ceremony, too. I noticed Aunt Lou straighten in her chair and slightly lift little Sarah Jane so that she wouldn’t miss any of the compliments. I could see the grins on the faces of Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, too. Grandpa was fairly busting his buttons. So I felt a measure of honest pride myself.

  On the other hand, I felt all empty inside. Here I was, finishing up my schooling without the faintest notion of what I was to do next with my life. As I already said, Willie was going off to train as a missionary; Camellia was going to New York; Janie and Charlotte were both setting out to be teachers; Avery was going to work with his pa; Polly was getting married—the list could go on and on. But Joshua Jones, head of the class, didn’t have any idea of what he would do with all this education.

  I still felt all mixed up when we got back to Aunt Lou’s and she served punch and cake in my honor to a number of friends and our family. She bustled around, chatting about me as she served, and Grandpa boasted some and Uncle Charlie just sat in the corner, quietly rubbing his knotted hands together as he grinned my way now and then. I could see, even then, that Uncle Charlie’s hands were giving him pain again, but he, as was his way, didn’t make any mention of the fact.

  Over and over the question of my plans came up. I brushed them aside with comments such as, I was still “sorting it through” or “looking at possibilities” or “waiting to make a decision.” Grandpa and Aunt Lou strengthened my position—“Lots of time,” they’d say, or, “Josh has too much at stake to decide hurriedly.” It made it sound like I had all kinds of choices.

  In our private conversations they had already informed me that I shouldn’t rush into deciding, should take my time and consider carefully the field that I wanted to pursue or the job that I would consider of interest, as God directed me. I knew that they were all still praying. I knew that they were all behind me, but I was quite sure that none of them knew just how much the question of the future weighed on my mind.

  “You can stay right here and find a job in town until you decide what God wants you to do,” Aunt Lou assured me. “We won’t need the bedroom for Sarah Jane for a long time yet.”

  And I guess that was what everyone expected me to do. I had already had offers to work in the hardware store and the print shop. I was deeply thankful for the opportunity of choice but neither job really appealed to me.

  So this was my reception—my time of honor. People came and went, giving well-wishes and enjoying Aunt Lou’s refreshments and the friendly conversation. There was talking and laughter and a great deal of commendation. I tried to be a part of it, but my eyes kept straying back to Uncle Charlie and his bent shoulders and gnarled hands.

  Suddenly something became very clear to me. As soon as I could, I excused myself and went to my room. I began to pack my few belongings into my duffle bag. It was spring. Planting time. I could see by Uncle Charlie’s hands that he was in no shape to hold the reins. Grandpa would never be able to do all the planting alone. They needed me at the farm. The sorting out of my future could wait for now. I inwardly thanked God for putting it off for a while. We could work it out later, the two of us; but for right now I had a job to do.

  I hurried faster as I packed, the emptiness within me filling up with anticipation. I loved the farm. I’d plant this one crop before I moved on. There wasn’t time now to get any other help for Grandpa, and he needed his crop. If I didn’t help him, who would? Scripture did say, after all, that we are to honor our parents. Grandpa wasn’t really my parent, but he was the only father I had ever known. I figured that was what God meant when He spoke the words.

  I sure would miss Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat, and I would dearly miss little Sarah, but I’d be nearby and able to see them often. God could have asked me to go to some far-off college or to a job in some distant town. Then I wouldn’t get to see them at all. This was better—much better, for now. The decision felt right to me; and I had the impression that God approved of it. I was glad that I would have this extra time with family.

  It was quiet again when I came back out to the kitchen. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie were just getting ready to head for home. They looked a bit surprised to see me out of my Sunday suit and into my everyday clothes. They were even more surprised to see my duffle bag.

  “Mind if I throw my things in the wagon?” I asked. “I’ll ride Chester.”

  “Sure,” said Grandpa agreeably. “You plannin’ on doin’

  some of yer sortin’ out at the farm, eh?” “No sortin’ to be done,” I answered him evenly. “At least not for the time being. Right now we got a crop to plant, and I aim to help.”

  “But what about a job—the further education?” Grandpa puzzled.

  “We’ll handle all of that when the time comes,” I answered confidently. And the funny thing was, I felt confident. Uncle Nat had continually been trying to tell me that God would lead me. He would show me what I needed to know in plenty of time to do it. For me, right now, it was to help Grandpa and Uncle Charlie. That was all that I needed to know.

  There were expressions of surprise on the faces before me, but gradually, one by one, heads began to nod assent.

  “We’re going to miss you,” Aunt Lou whispered as she moved close to me and let her hand linger on my arm.

  “That’s the joy of it,” I said. “I’ll be nearby. I’ll need to come to town often. Got to check up on Sarah, you know.” We all laughed a bit and the tension in the room relaxed.

  Grandpa and Uncle Nat helped me to load my things in Grandpa’s wagon. I left nothing behind; I wanted no excuses for turning back. I went in to where Sarah was sleeping and gave her a little pat as I whispered a goodbye. Then I hugged Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat and scooped up Pixie.

  “You ride with Grandpa and Uncle Charlie,” I told her, and handed her to Uncle Charlie.

  “I’ll be along shortly,” I promised them. “I’m just going to drop around and thank Mr. Lewis and Mr. Trent for their job offers and tell them that I’m needed on the farm—for now.”

  I don’t know if I imagined it or not, but Grandpa seemed to walk with a lighter step and Uncle Charlie with a bit more straightness to his back as the two of them went toward the wagon.

  CHAPTER 6

  Farming

  THOUGHTS ABOUT MY FUTURE sometimes tugged at me as I prepared the ground for seed and planted the crop that spring, but for the most part I enjoyed what I was doing.

  I had never had much to do with the planting before. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had been in charge of that and I had been the chore-boy, but now the roles were reversed. Grandpa and I worked the fields and Uncle Charlie, in his own slow way, did the chores—at least most of them. I still did the milking, because Uncle Charlie found the job too difficult with his crippled hands.

  Uncle Charlie took care of the household duties, too. Cooking and cleaning didn’t seem to bother him too much, but scrubbing the weekly laundry sure did. I sometimes winced as I watched him trying to wring out a garment. That night, to get Grandpa alone I asked him to come with me to the barn to check old Mac’s hoof. “What seems to be the trouble?” Grandpa asked, bending over to lift Mac’s right front foot.

  “Oh, no trouble,” I quickly assured him. “I was just wondering if it should be trimmed just a bit more.”

  Grandpa looked disgusted for a moment, but he quickly caught himself.

  “Boy, you are taking your farmin’ serious, aren’t you?” he commented. “Never seen anyone with so many questions.”

  It was true. I had been asking a lot of questions. There were so many things that I didn’t know about farming and planting, and I had to learn somehow. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie seemed to be my only source of knowledge.

  “That’s not—not really what I wanted,” I began. “I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t know how to do it without Uncle Charlie—”

  “Anything you got to say t
o me you can say in front of Charlie,” Grandpa said firmly; I could tell by the tone of his voice that he wanted that straight right to begin with.

  “But it’s about Uncle Charlie,” I protested. “Doesn’t seem right to talk about him right out.”

  “What about Charlie?” asked Grandpa cautiously. “Seems to me he does the best he can.”

  “That’s it exactly,” I quickly pointed out. “He tries so hard, but some things are so—so difficult for him.”

  “Like?” asked Grandpa.

  “Like wringing out those clothes.”

  Grandpa thought on that. He too had seen Uncle Charlie struggling with the clothes.

  “Don’t know what can be done about it,” he said slowly and moved away from old Mac, slapping him playfully on his full rump as he did so. “Neither you nor I can take time to do the laundry when we’re planting,” he went on.

  “I know, but—” I crossed to a wooden bucket and upended it to make myself a stool. “I’ve been thinking, and it seems that it might be the right time to get us some more modern equipment.”

  “Modern equipment?” Grandpa had always scorned anything that was too mechanized.

  “One of those new machines for washing clothes,” I hurried on. “They have a wringer thing that you just put the clothes through and turn the handle and they squeeze all of the water out from the cloth.”

  Grandpa knew all about washing machines. They had been around for a number of years. He had just felt that they were unnecessary—up ’til now.

  I waited. I had more sense than to press the issue. Grandpa stood there chewing on a straw and thinking.

  “Lou has one,” I finally mentioned.

  “Lou needs one,” said Grandpa. “She’s got all those white shirts and fancy dresses and dozens of diapers.”