A Winter's Promise (8 page)

Albert sat huddled on the splitting block, his head
pulled into his coat like a little turtle. Stiffly he toddled
toward her, dragging the meat in its flour sack.

“
The bar musta fallen down,
”
he said through
chat
tering teeth.
“
I got the meat,
”
he added proudly.

Emma held him close, not mentioning the tear tracks
o
n his cheeks.
“
Thank God, you
’
re all
right! Next time be sure the bar
’
s way over,
”
she warned. She ushered
him ahead of her.
“
Run on now. I
’
ll be right with you.
”

As she made her way slowly back to the house, Emma
thought how much worse things could be if Albert had
f
allen and
hurt himself. When
she
got inside,
she
pulled
heavy
woolen socks on his icy, white feet. At
first
they were numb, and she urged him to walk to get the
blood circulating in them.

Even though she warned
him that they would hurt
when the blood began to move, the little boy wasn
’
t
pre
pared for
such
severe pain. He cried. He howled. He
wailed. Fred and Ellie cried, too, simply because Albert
was crying, and Emma felt ready to sit down and bawl
with them.

She poured the soup in bowls and urged Albert to
come
and
eat, but he sat on the rug in front of the stove,
holding his feet and rocking in pain.

Fred and Ellie didn
’
t have to be coaxed-Before they
finished their soup, hunger drove Albert, still sniffling,
to the table. He took a spoonful of soup, choked, and cried again, clutching his feet.

“
There, there. The hurt will stop real soon now,
”
Emma assured him. But her heart ached as she thought
about
the chilblains he would suffer. She could hardly
remember a winter when she
hadn
’
t
had chilblains. The
red, sore areas on her feet itched and hurt at the same
time. Sometimes she rubbed them with a freshly cut raw
potato, easing the itching and pain a bit.

But frostbitten feet, she realized, were nothing com
pared to a broken limb. What would she have done if he
had broken a bone? That was another question to add to
her list for Al when he got home.

After she cleared the table, she lit the lamp in the wall
bracket. Three little faces turned to her, knowing she
was getting ready to leave them. As she reached for her
coat she began the usual warning:
“
Don
’
t climb on
any
thing
..
..
”

She sighed. They were already at play, chattering
among themselves, not paying a bit of attention to her
warning.
“
Lord,
”
she whispered as she pulled on her coat,
“
keep them safe.
”

As she poured
precious
hot water into a pail for the chickens, the thought came to her:
Let them look at the mail
-order catalog.

For a moment she argued with herself. Should she
risk having them tear it? Would Al be a
ngry if they did
?
She wished she had the old one, but it was fast growing
slim in the outhouse.

She hobbled to the pantry and took the book from the
top shelf.
“
Kinder!
”
she called,
“
If you promise to be
very
careful, I
’
ll let you look at the catalog while I do chores.
”

“
We will! We will!
”
Albert and Fred chimed as they scrambled up on the bench behind the table.

“
Don
’
t take it off the table
and let Ellie see it, too.
”

Closing the door softly behind her, Emma headed
into the white, whirling world. A misstep
sent a jab
of
pain up her spine. She clenched her teeth and stumbled
on. At one spot a drift was deeper than her shoe tops,
and she felt an icy
ring around each leg. Suddenly
a gust
of wind threw her off balance, and she landed with her
right arm up to the elbow in snow. The pail with the water for the chickens lay on its side.

She was about to cry over the spilled water when a
new fear gripped her—what if the storm got so bad that
Al couldn
’
t get home tomorrow?

“
Lord! Stop the storm! Please stop it!
”
Emma sobbed
as she fought her way into the barn. She shook so vio
lently she had to use thre
e matches to light the lantern.
Instead of dragging hay to the ox and cows, she stumbled
toward patient Molly and flung herself over Molly
’
s warm back.

“
I can
’
t,
”
she sobbed.
“
I just can
’
t do it!
”

A shred of memory stirred. There was another time
she had sobbed,
“
I just can
’
t do it!
”
She could see it
plainly in her mind—the vegetable cart and the muddy
road in Oshkosh, when she was about nine.

Walter and Winnie had told her to take the vegeta
bles up the hill to Rommel
’
s boarding house, while they
took
baske
ts to other customers down near the lake.
She
had
done it before, when the road was hard and dry,
but
on
this particular day the road was oozing with mud.
Th
e m
ud
lodged between the spokes of the wheels and,
before she was halfway up the hill, the cart was stuck
fa
st.

Emma had pushed and pulled and prayed,
“
God, send
someone to help me!
”
When no one came she had bawled and sobbed,
“
Lord, I can
’
t. I just can
’
t do it!
”

She was about to leave the cart when she remembered some words she had heard often in their little church:
“
I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.
”

As she began to repeat it, she
knew
the cart would
move.
And it had. Slowly, slowly she had made her way
to Rommel
’
s and delivered the vegetables.

Molly shifted under her weight. Feeling calmer now,
Emma began to drag hay to the cattle. She remembered
how she had run to tell Ma about her triumph with the
cart, but Ma hadn
’
t been pleased. In fact, she had scolded
Emma for trying to use God
’
s Word like magic. And Emma hadn
’
t tried ever again—until now.

Why were we given God
’
s Word,
she argued with
h
erself,
if
we aren
’
t supposed to use it?
She thought
about it all the while she fed the cattle. As she sat down
gingerly to milk Cora, the thought came to her that sure
ly, if she were facing something she
had
to do, but couldn
’
t do in
her own strength, she could coun
t on God
’
s strength.

“
Of course!
”
she said out loud.
“
Ma was afraid I might
try to do foolish, impossible things—things I had no business doing.
”

Father,
she prayed as she struggled to hold the pail,
which was steadily growing heavier,
St. Paul said he
could do all things—all the things he had to do
through Christ
’
s strength. Help me do that now. Thank
You for
reminding me of how you helped me years ago.

As she got, up
from milking
Cora, faith
welled up
within
her.
All the wa
y from the barn to the house, with
the snow swirling around her and pain searing through
her, Emma repeated that comforting verse.

Before she ope
ned the door she could hear them:
E
l
lie squealing, the baby crying, and the boys yelling.

“
Oh,
no!
”
She groaned at the sight of Ellie, sitting
with the catalog across her knees, gleefully tearing out
pages.

Ellie
’
s delighted squeals abruptly turned to frustrated
wails as Emma rescued the catalog.

“
Boys! Stop fighting!
”
she yelled at the miniature wrestlers, who were rolling dangerously close to the stove. They were still at it when she had taken off her coat and overshoes. Pain shooting up her spine and down her legs, Emma grabbed one boy in each hand, shook them, and ordered them to sit in opposite corners.

Reluctantly they obeyed, still yelling,
“
He wouldn
’
t let me
—
”
and
“
It was my turn—.
”

With a crying babe on her shoulder and Ellie clinging
to her skirt, Emma, fought the desire to scream.
She
wa
nted to lay the baby back down, pry
Ellie
’
s hands from
her skirt, and run out into the night. Her legs trembled and threatened to give way. She had a sudden vision of
herself, coatless, running into the storm, with the chil
dren screaming after her.

“
Lord! Help me!
”
she pleaded out loud. What were
those words she was going to remember—the ones she
had said all the way to the house? At least she could quiet the baby, and she unbuttoned her dress front.

Heart pounding, trembling with pain, she tried to soothe Ellie.
“
Liebchen!
Listen to Mama! Papa
’
s coming home tomorrow.
”

Ellie ran to the window.

“
No, no! Not now! Tomorrow! After you sleep.
”
After the boys assured her there would be no more
fighting, she asked them to try to explain
to Effie when Papa was coming home and promised them bread and syrup with their milk as soon as she put the baby down.

She wasn
’
t prepared for the stab of pain when she
tried to stand up, and almost lost her balance. Teeth clenched, she poured milk and spread bread with syrup.

Fred bumped Albert
’
s arm, spilling most of Albert
’
s
milk. While Emma wiped it up, Ellie laid her arm on
her syrup bread and wailed because she was sticky.