Emma's Gift (20 page)

“Seems like they oughta be home. 'Least sometimes. What's wrong with their dad, anyway?”

“I don't know all of it,” I answered honestly. “But it's the grief affecting his thinking. He'll get better in time. He needs to be with his children, you're right about that. And they need him. I may go and talk to him again today. But son, if he can't see to his kids for a while, it falls on us. Since their relatives aren't able.”

“They oughta come.”

“I don't know about that. I only know we have to be kind. I have to help them, and so do you, because we're who they have right now. Do you understand?”

He was quiet for a minute before finally looking up, his eyes full of emotion. “I heard you call Franky ‘son.' But he's not your son.”

Oh. No wonder he was sore. “That's just like saying ‘young fellow,' or something, Robert. People do it all the time. Some of the older gentlemen around here even call me son.”

“But he's always right next to you, Dad! And you don't hardly look at me anymore! I just want things to be the way they were.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “The problem is, things will never be like they were. Especially not for Franky and his brothers and sisters. I bet they'd like to go home and have things back to normal too, but it won't be the same without their mother. They need help, and they probably will for a while.”

“I still want you to do stuff with me.”

“I know. And I will. Just give us all time.”

He was thinking, I could tell. And I couldn't help but consider how much alike Franky and Robert were sometimes. Very sensitive. But good with their hands too.

“Hey, Dad, remember I told you I'd really like a sled?”

I nodded, wondering at his abrupt change of subject. I'd made his sled when the weather first started getting cold and had hid it in Willard's old tool shed. I wasn't going to say anything about it to him, though.

“I know something we could do together,” he continued. “When everybody else is sleeping, we could sneak out an' make the Hammonds a sled for Christmas, maybe big enough for three or four to sit at once, and they can take turns. Willy told me they don't get much of nothing for Christmas. Like maybe socks or some candy. Don't you think they'd like a sled?”

For a moment I couldn't even answer. Here was God talking through a boy. How else could he know what I'd had in mind? Why else would he be so zealous for it, when only moments before he'd been upset?

“That's a great idea, Robert.” And I thought of Franky again, who'd had the same idea. Only he thought I'd be doing it just for my own two.

“You don't mind if I stay up?”

There was no way I could deny him. It seemed fitting, for sure, that Robert should help me bring some blessing. “I don't mind. With so little time before Christmas, I could use your help. Maybe we can even make two, since there's so many of them.”

“Did you make me one already?”

“I guess you'll have to wait and see about that.”

He smiled, his clear brown eyes shining. “I know it ain't Franky's fault he's here.”

“Maybe you could be as much his friend as you are Willy's.”

“He's kinda odd, though, Dad. And littler.”

“Still—”

From downstairs, Julia's bell interrupted me, calling us to breakfast.

“Okay,” Robert conceded and then grew quiet a moment. “I'm glad it wasn't my mom. I don't mean to be selfish about that. But I'm still glad.” He started down the steps ahead of me.

“That's no more than normal,” I said to his back, suddenly hearing something move in the next room. Somebody else was up here. I should've thought to check.

Before I could reach the stairs, Harry sprung from the other doorway and grabbed me by the knees. “Got ya!” he yelled. “I'm a wild Injun and you're a bear, and I'm gonna eat you up!”

“I'd rather have oatmeal, wouldn't you?”

“Nah! I like bear meat! I'm gonna cook it and pick apples and stuff.”

I had to smile at his make-believe. I could remember being an Indian too, when I was a little tike, even bear hunting in the backyard. “You just one brave, all by yourself?”

“Yup. Berty wanted to play with Lizbeth.”

“You're gonna need a nice bowl of oatmeal, then, to give you strength for all the work you've got ahead.”

“Really? What work?” He let go my legs and looked up at me. By that time Robert was already downstairs.

“Takes an awful lot of work to skin a bear,” I went on. “Can't eat it with the skin on. Too tough. If you don't eat something first, you'll get mighty hungry before you get the job done.”

He shook his head. “I'm just playin'. Don't you know I'm playin'?”

“Sure.” I gave his brown hair a pat. “If you weren't playing and I was a real bear, I might have to eat
you
up.”

He laughed and then took my hand. “Are you really gonna make us a sled?”

He'd heard. Oh boy. This was going to be a hard secret to keep.

“I was spyin' on you,” he boasted with a chuckle.

“I see that. But don't tell any of the others, okay? We want to surprise them.”

“Are you really gonna make us one?” His eyes were wide, as if it were a difficult thing to believe.

“You'll see. But you can't tell anybody. Are you a big enough boy to keep a secret?”

I'd made the right appeal there. “I'm a real big boy!” he declared. “I'm sure big 'nough! I can even chop wood an' feed hogs an' ever'thin'!”

I couldn't quite imagine George having his five-year-old at such chores, but it was all right for the boy to think he could do them, at least. “I guess you are a big boy then. But let's not keep Juli waiting. Maybe you'd like to help me fill the wood box after breakfast.”

“Okay,” he said with a sly grin. “But then I'm gonna be a wild Injun again, an' I'm gonna catch you an' eat you up for sure.”

He ran on down the stairs, laughing, and I thought of George and how much he was missing. He'd scarcely seen his kids for three days now. But did he ever really play with them? Was he missing even more than that?

We weren't finished with Julia's cinnamon oatmeal when Kirk and Willy came with the morning milk from the Hammond place. Juli jumped up to strain it immediately when she saw that it wasn't already done.

Kirk scooped himself some of the oatmeal. “Sam sent us over here,” he said. “To help out.”

“What did your father say?” Julia asked with obvious concern.

“Nothin'.”

She looked at me with a pained expression. Nothing. And neither boy offered a word of explanation. Willy reached for a piece of toast and went walking into the sitting room.

“Why we lib here now?” Berty asked between mouthfuls.

“We're just visitin',” Lizbeth said hurriedly. “Hush.”

“I wan' more milk.” Little Berty looked straight at Juli, who filled his glass and gave Harry, Rorey, and Sarah some besides.

Lizbeth didn't ask how her father was. Neither did Joe. The two of them had talked the night before, and Lizbeth had said precious little since. She was spooning milky oatmeal into Emma Grace's mouth now, her face expressionless.

“Do you think we'll be home for Christmas?” Franky asked me.

“We ain't havin' no Christmas,” Kirk declared.

Rorey got up from her seat and ran into the other room in tears. Juli followed her, but there was no helping it. For all our assurances, most of the Hammond kids could not imagine the holiday without their parents. Us talking about decorations and cakes and whatever else just wasn't going to be good enough. And I didn't blame them for it, not one bit. I had to take a deep breath, remembering Juli's words without really wanting to. “It's not right,” she'd told the Lord and Pastor Jones. “It's just not right!”

FIFTEEN

Julia

Two days now till Christmas, and nothing but sorrowfulness in the house. It was almost more than I could take. Sarah and Rorey had already drawn some angels, and I started right in after breakfast to help them finish the rest. Franky and Harry and Bert came and joined us with some interest, but none of the older boys did. Joe had started cracking walnuts for me before, and now I set him and Willy at picking out the meats and Kirk and Robert at cracking the hickories. We'd make cookies, that's what we'd do. I'd keep every one of these kids busy doing Christmas, whether they liked it or not. Surely that would lift the awful cloud off the place. Surely that would help.

I had Lizbeth help the little ones cut out their angels and arrange them all on the largest open wall space in the sitting room and stick them up with thumbtacks. She didn't want to, I could tell, but she didn't complain. I drew little pictures of Mary and Joseph, a cow, and a sheep, and Franky showed me the baby Jesus he drew.

“That's very good,” I told him. “We'll use yours.”

“His is too big,” Rorey complained.

“Big is good,” I maintained. “He should be big and easy to see because he's so important.”

“But a baby ain't as big as a sheep!” she wailed.

“He's closer,” Franky tried to explain. “See, some a' your angels is bigger. They's jus' flyin' closer.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and she went back to playing with two of the paper angels, swinging them around with her arms as though they were flying over our heads.

“Do we hafta put 'em
all
on the wall, Mrs. Wortham? Can we keep some of 'em just for play?”

Her question lifted my heart immensely. Thank the good Lord for simple desires! “Sure, honey. We can make extras if you want.”

“Make me a horsey,” Harry asked. “A angel horsey with real wings.”

“There ain't no angel horses,” his sister chided him.

“There is too!”

“There ain't. Is there?” She looked at me.

“Well…” I had to consider that. “In the Book of Revelation it says that Jesus will be riding a white horse. At least I think that was talking about Jesus.”

“What's Rebbalation?” Harry asked.

“Part of the Bible, dummy,” Willy said from across the room.

“Now listen here,” I said. “You need to speak respectfully to one another. No calling each other dummy or any other name, do you hear?”

“Yes'm,” Willy mumbled.

I turned my attention back to Harry. “I'll make you a horse, if that's what you want.”

“With wings?”

“All right. I don't see that it would hurt anything. Would you like a cutout too, Berty?”

“Goats,” the little boy said.

“There ain't no goats in heaven,” Rorey protested again.

“I don't know about that one way or the other,” I said with a sigh. “But it would be fine having one in the stable near the baby Jesus. That's a good idea, Berty.”

Rorey scowled at me. “You always do what the boys say.”

“Seems to me I'm trying to please all of you right now,” I answered her back, but then I wished I hadn't said anything.

“How many nuts you need, anyway?” Kirk asked me.

“All of them. We're going to make cookies today, and I need some for other things besides. But you can take a break when you want to. We don't have to do them all right now.”

None of them stopped.

“Cookies?” Berty exclaimed.

“Yes. Two or three kinds. What are your favorites?”

“Snickerdoodles,” Willy answered immediately.

“Can we make shaped ones?” Rorey asked. “To look like angels and trees and stuff?”

“We'll try,” I said, thinking of Emma. “We just got some red coloring a few weeks ago, to make red sugar.”

“Emma used to make us cookies every year,” Lizbeth suddenly added, almost whimsically. “Stars and canes too. The stars with all white sugar. That was before she ever went to Belle Rive.”

Silence fell over the room for a moment and had me frightfully uncomfortable. “Well, you all know just how they should look, then. You'll be fine helpers.”

“I don't want cookies,” Franky remarked quietly.

“I do,” Berty declared.

“Me too,” Harry agreed. “Can you make 'em look like horseys?”

“Oh. That would be much harder than a paper cutout. How about we stay with angels and stars and trees and canes? And maybe some plain circles or wreaths. Okay?”

I could imagine Emma over here in her kitchen, making cookies one after another, and all of them looking just right. Everything she made had to be right, or she'd do it over. Rows of them, stacks of them, she'd probably baked, for the Hammonds and more than likely other neighbors and friends too. Plus all the clothes and quilts and things she'd made for them, besides.

And here it was, already the day before Christmas Eve. I had to find that dress Emma was working on for baby Emma Grace and make Rorey's doll and come up with something for Lizbeth and the boys. They might say they didn't care, if I were to ask them. But they did care. It would matter to them, I knew that, even if it was years down the road before they thought it through. This might not be a good Christmas for them, it might even be the worst they'd ever have, but it would be the most important, nonetheless. Because they would either find paralyzing despair or enough of the hope and love of God to go on.

“I wish we had a piano,” I suddenly said out loud, surprising myself.

“Oh, me too!” Sarah agreed. “Just like in Harrisburg, so you could play and sing carols.”

Across the room, I could see Robert smile.

But Willy was shaking his head. “Don't nobody get too excited. Ain't no use none a' us puttin' out socks.”

Joe plunked a handful of nuts into the bowl I'd given him. “Pa got the Christmas candy a couple a' weeks ago. I seen it. A piece for every one of us, even Emma Grace, an' she can't eat it.”