Julia's Last Hope (6 page)

Julia stood up and brushed her hands over her coarse gardening skirt.

“Now, I must get back to the planting,” she said, “if we are to have that big garden we will be needing.”

“But shouldn’t you—?”

“I will only plant a couple more rows before lunch,” Julia answered Hettie’s unfinished question. “Then I will wait for the girls to get home. It will be good for them to know how to plant a garden. I had to learn on my own. They should know how to do such things—and they might even learn to love it.”

Julia smiled at Hettie and moved toward the door.

“Thanks for the tea.” Then she hesitated, one hand outstretched to the doorknob. “And thanks for the listening ear,” she said softly. “I needed to talk. I guess I still miss my mother.”

After the door closed softly behind Julia, Hettie allowed her own tears to fall.

Jennifer and Felicity were thrilled to learn that they could participate in the planting.

“I will make the rows and you can drop in the seeds and cover them,” instructed Julia, and both girls squealed with delight.

“Now change into one of your play dresses and meet me in the backyard.”

The girls soon rejoined their mother, eager to get started. Julia was already stretching the cord from one stake to the other to mark a new row. She liked things neat and orderly and would have been ashamed to have a garden with vegetables growing in crooked lines.

“Can we take off our shoes, Mama?” called Felicity.

“Your shoes?” exclaimed Julia.

“Please,” begged Felicity. “The Carlsons all had their shoes off when they worked their garden. We saw them. The dirt doesn’t get in the shoes then.”

“But your stockings will get filthy,” Julia argued.

“You take off your stockings too,” Jennifer explained to her mother.

Julia frowned. “Isn’t it awfully hard on your feet?”

“Janie says it feels great,” answered Felicity.

“Very well,” agreed Julia. “If you must—then remove your shoes.”

Both girls hurriedly took off their shoes and stockings. But Felicity and Jennifer had never run about barefoot before, and their tender feet did not find the lumpy garden dirt as pleasant as did Janie Carlson, who spent most of her summer enjoying the outdoors without shoes or stockings.

Jennifer winced as she made her way across the soil, and Felicity gave her a deep frown. “They’ll get used to it,” she whispered hoarsely.

Jennifer nodded. This was a new adventure, and if she spoiled it, Jennifer knew that Felicity would be cross.

“Now,” explained Julia, “come here, both of you, and I will show you how to scatter the seed. One of you will plant, and the other will cover. Then you can change jobs.”

After a mild argument, the girls decided that Felicity would plant first. Both girls bowed over the open row while Julia showed them how to plant evenly, sparingly, so that the seed would grow properly. Then Julia demonstrated the careful attention needed in covering the seeds.

“This is important work,” she told the girls. “It must be done carefully and well if we are to have a good garden.”

The planting began. Felicity traveled along the row on her hands and knees, dropping the seeds with careful precision. Jennifer followed, raking the soil gently back over the seeds, then patting it down to bed them.

It wasn’t long until Julia saw that Jennifer was limping, but she said nothing. The work carried on. Then Jennifer was at the edge of the garden, sitting on the grass as she replaced her stockings and shoes. Julia still made no comment, but she heard Felicity whisper, “Softy!”

“You wait,” answered Jennifer. “You’re on your knees, crawling along on your skirt. Wait until you have to walk on this stuff.”

The three worked on. Julia expected the girls to plead for release, or at least to find an excuse to take a break from their work, but to her surprise they seemed to enjoy the task. Though Felicity too donned her stockings and shoes after a few trips across the garden soil.

“How long did Janie say it takes to get used to it?” Julia heard Felicity ask Jennifer.

“She didn’t say,” whispered Jennifer.

When Julia had designed her final row, she leaned on her hoe and watched Jennifer scatter carrot seeds and Felicity cover them with dark, warm soil.

“You’ve done a good job,” she informed the two. “It has gone so much faster with all of us working together.”

Jennifer straightened and rubbed her back. “Are we done?” she asked.

“For now,” answered Julia. “We will plant the rest when the weather is a bit more certain. We don’t want frost to catch our new plants.”

Felicity finished covering the last few seeds. “When will they start to grow?” she asked impatiently. “A couple of days?”

“Oh my, no!” laughed Julia. “But perhaps by next week some of them will be showing.”

Felicity’s face fell at the thought of such a long wait.

They put away the garden tools and went in to prepare for Hettie’s evening meal. John would soon be home, and Julia wanted his womenfolk to greet him as usual in clean and orderly fashion.

Chapter Seven

Adjustments

Jennifer and Felicity made frequent trips to the garden. Julia was amazed at their interest. Wild whoops greeted the first glimpse of fuzzy green. Their hard labor was bearing fruit.

“The girls are growing up,” mused Julia. “They still sound like children when they express their glee, but they are able to find enjoyment in doing a task—even a hard one.”

Julia decided that the girls should be given additional responsibilities to help run the household.

“You know that I have sent off letters advertising our home as a place for summer guests,” Julia said to the girls at breakfast one morning.

They both nodded in reply, remembering the many times their mother had instructed them not to talk with their mouths full.

“Well, we will all have more work to do when guests arrive,” Julia continued.

“Who’s coming?” asked Felicity, for the moment forgetting that her mouth was not empty.

“Well, no one—yet. I mean—I do not know of anyone yet. But it is still early. The advertising has hardly had time to be seen. But when—when we do have guests, we all will have to help. There will be extra cleaning, and laundry, and jobs in the kitchen.”

Julia saw concern, then interest, then excitement in the twins’ eyes. “What do we have to do?” asked Felicity candidly.

“Well, I thought I might make a list of chores, and each of you can pick the ones you’d like to do.”

“A whole bunch?” asked Felicity, a frown appearing. Jennifer’s elbow nudged her.

“Not a whole bunch. Some. And it will depend on how many people are here,” explained Julia.

“I’ll collect the rent,” offered Felicity, her eyes shining, and Julia and Jennifer both shared the joke.

“It won’t be rent, really,” explained Julia. “They will only stay for a short time—so it will be—fees, I guess. Lodging fees.”

“I’ll wait for the list,” said Jennifer.

“Will there just be big people?” asked Felicity, her eyes holding Julia’s.

“Perhaps not. I have said that we have three bedrooms and so could take families,” Julia answered.

Felicity and Jennifer exchanged nervous glances. “Will we need to share our things?” asked Felicity.

“Your own private possessions, no. But the porch swing and the playhouse, perhaps. Tom is going to build a sandbox and a teeter totter. We want the children to have something to do. The parents will enjoy their stay more if their children are happy,” Julia explained. “Then perhaps they will want to come again—and tell others who might also enjoy visiting a quiet mountain town.”

John supervised the dismantling of the equipment at the mill and watched as it was loaded on boxcars and moved down the tracks to be set up at another location. It wasn’t until he stood watching the train roll from view around the bend of the mountain that the reality of it all settled in. Work at the mill had come to an end.

There was nothing to do but draw his final wage and go home. He had decisions to make. Difficult decisions. He had been holding them at bay—begging for time—but he could delay them no longer. He had to face reality and find a way to provide for his family. He was proud of Julia. He hadn’t known that she was made of such “strong stuff.” She had rallied the town women, determined to fight to save her beautiful house on the mountainside. The house meant a lot to Julia, John reasoned. She was used to fine things. But John had the sickening feeling that no matter how hard she tried, she would end up brokenhearted. There was no way enough people would be drawn to Calder Springs. They had Banff, already becoming a major tourist attraction. And farther up the Rocky Mountain chain was Jasper. It too was growing in popularity. People already knew about Banff and Jasper, and there were only so many people with money to spend at resorts. There would be no additional dollars to spend in their little town, John figured.

It might have been different if they could have built up a clientele slowly, but no one in the town had money to cover their needs while they waited. The town would die. The rest of the people would be forced to move out—just as some had already done.

John sighed deeply, his shoulders sagged. It was hard for him to see Julia lose what she loved so much. It was hard to face the fact that the girls—who had been born to plenty—might now have to do without.

He himself knew all about hardship. He could live simply. But his family? Except for the first few years of their marriage, John and Julia had lived well. And the girls had never known hardship.

It sometimes bothered John that it was Uncle George’s money that had built the grand house, not money he had earned through his own hard work. But he had never begrudged Julia the house. She deserved it. He thanked God for the miracle that made it possible. He always thought of Uncle George’s money as a miracle.

John recalled his secret dream of one day owning a business of his own. He had never told anyone. Not even Julia, for he deemed the dream impossible—selfish. Uncle George’s money had been a temptation—but only for a brief moment. He would not have considered using it to fulfill his own ambition. Julia’s house was always uppermost in his mind.

Still, on occasion, he thought about that little business. A wood-shop. A place where he could take the rough wood that came from the forest and shape and polish it until it shone like glistening dark gold beneath his fingers. He loved the touch of wood—the smell—the pattern of its grain.

If they could have sold the big house—even for a fraction of what it was worth—they might have had a possibility of starting over. As it was, they would lose the house, lose everything. John’s jaw twitched and his eyes hardened. It would be tough giving it all up. He tried to shrug off his dismal mood.

“As Jule says,” he reminded himself, “God didn’t pack up and move off with the mill. He’s still here—still looking after us.”

John headed for the office to pick up his check. Time was passing quickly and he’d be late for the evening meal if he didn’t hurry.

Julia stopped by the bedroom where the girls were preparing for supper.

“How about wearing your blue gingham dresses tonight?” she asked them.