The Winds of Autumn (20 page)
Maybe Mr. Foggelson was right. Maybe the Bible was a book of myths. Maybe the whole thing didn’t make any sense.
How do I know?
was my last hopeless thought. In a state of confusion and rejection, the small white tablet claimed me for sleep.
When I awoke the next morning, I was still in turmoil. I was still angry, too. I was not undressed, but someone had thrown a blanket over me some time during the night.
There were voices coming from the kitchen, and I forced myself to get off my bed. I wasn’t too anxious to leave my room, but I couldn’t just stay where I was. Reluctantly, I pushed open my door and stepped from the bedroom. I knew the voices then. I could hear Grandpa, then Gramps, and they were talking in soft tones to Uncle Nat.
When I finally forced myself to enter the kitchen, I saw that Uncle Charlie was there, too. There were coffee cups sitting on the table, but at present no one was drinking coffee.
A hush fell on the room when I entered, and I was embarrassed. I knew I looked a mess. My clothes were crumpled, my hair standing on end, and my face swollen from crying myself to sleep.
“Mornin’, Boy,” said Grandpa and he reached out an arm and pulled me to himself. I almost started crying again. Grandpa just held me close, like the holding would somehow lessen our pain.
Uncle Nat was there. I don’t know when he returned. I didn’t even care to ask him. Whenever it was, it was too late, by my way of thinking.
“You’ll be happy to hear that Sam asked God to forgive him last night,” said Uncle Nat, and I knew he considered that very good news.
I looked at the faces around the table and I could see that all of them shared Uncle Nat’s feeling.
I nodded. So Old Sam had made his peace with God before he died. I knew that was good, but I just couldn’t get too excited about it.
“Doc is carin’ for him now. He’s much better this mornin’.”
“He didn’t die?” I sputtered in bewilderment.
A gentle chuckle rustled from man to man around the table.
“No, he didn’t die,” said Uncle Nat. “He had himself a good scare though.”
So he didn’t die! He had called Uncle Nat away from Aunt Lou and then not even had the common decency to die. And as soon as he was back on his feet and able to stumble around the town, he’d be right back to his sinful ways too, I’d wager. It made me even angrier. I turned from the men at the table.
“I gotta get ready for school,” I muttered.
Grandpa cleared his throat.
“Boy,” he said, “iffen you’re not up to it, you don’t need to be goin’ to school today.”
I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t know what to do if I hung around at home either. Seemed to me there wasn’t much for choices. Then I thought of Aunt Lou’s garden. It still had some weeding to do. I mumbled a thanks to Grandpa and went to wash for breakfast.
It was a long, bitter day for me. The work in the garden helped, but all the time I weeded I could hear the saw and hammer, and I knew what was going on in Uncle Nat’s shed. All four of the men were in there and they were working on a tiny coffin.
Every few minutes Uncle Nat would break from the others and go into the house to see how Aunt Lou was faring. If she was awake he would stay with her, but if she was sleeping he would come back out and help the men some more.
Doc called twice. Once in midmorning and once in the afternoon. He talked quietly to Uncle Nat, and I heard him say something about Aunt Lou being “as good as could be expected,” and then he said that she was “accepting it well.”
I finished the weeding and looked for other things to do. I cared for Dobbin and cut lots of firewood. Then I hauled water until I had all the buckets full.
The long day began to draw to a close. The menfolk took turns peeking in on Aunt Lou. I knew she welcomed the support of her family, but I just wasn’t ready to see her yet.
The three men left for the farm, chores needing to be done. They said that they’d be back again in the morning.
Uncle Nat spent most of the evening with Aunt Lou and that left me pretty much on my own. About the only thing I had to do was to answer the door. Already word had gotten around about Aunt Lou losing her baby, and pies and cakes and casseroles began to arrive at the house along with the condolences of the people of the parish. Even some of those who didn’t go to church stopped by with a batch of cookies or a chicken pie and expressed their sorrow.
I was glad when I could finally shut the door, extinguish the light against more callers and go to my room. I was exhausted. I hadn’t had much sleep the night before, and it had been a long and difficult day.
I must have gone to sleep fairly quickly. At least I don’t recall laying and thinking none. I didn’t want to think. And I sure didn’t want to pray. I couldn’t see much reason to keep on trying to be friends with a God who wouldn’t care for His own.
S
OMEHOW WE GOT THROUGH
the next few days. People came and went. The menfolk lined the small coffin with a soft blanket, and a service was held in the church with family members, parishioners, and many neighbors and town people. I’m sure it must have been especially hard for Uncle Nat, conducting the funeral for his own firstborn.
Aunt Lou was unable to attend the service, so Grandpa stayed home with her. I don’t know what words he could say for comfort, but then maybe she didn’t want words. When I walked by the door and glanced in, Grandpa was just sitting there by the bed, holding tight to Aunt Lou’s hand.
I went back to school. The girls talked in hushed whispers as I walked by, and it angered me rather than bringing any solace. I wondered just what they knew about grief, and if they had ever lost someone that they had looked forward to seeing for so many months.
At home, the door to the little room known as the nursery was closed. I hurried every time I needed to pass it. Aunt Lou didn’t. I saw her almost stop many times, as though to listen for the crying of a baby or the even breathing of a sleeping child. I wondered if she ever slipped in there when she was all alone and handled the tiny garments or straightened the quilt on the baby bed.
School was soon out for the summer and I was glad. A change of routine sounded good to me.
Under usual circumstances I would have gone right out to the farm. But Aunt Lou was just beginning to get back on her feet again, and Grandpa felt I should stay around for a few more days to help her.
I didn’t mind helping Aunt Lou, but I sure missed the farm. The open fields with wild strawberry patches, the crik with its fish holes, the clear, clean sky—all seemed to call to me. I needed to get away from town, I needed to get away from the little parsonage, I needed to get away from people. I would even have gotten away from myself if I could have thought of any way to do so.
There was no use fretting about it, so I just settled in and tried to make myself as useful to Aunt Lou as I could. She was getting stronger. She was even up and about in her kitchen. We still wouldn’t let her out in her garden though, so I kept the weeds out the best that I could.
One day I went to the grocery store for Aunt Lou and nearly ran into Camellia on my way out. I could feel the red creeping slowly into my face and couldn’t think of one thing to say to her, but she seemed composed enough. In fact, she even stopped and gave me one of her special smiles.
“Hello, Joshua,” she said kindly. “How is your Aunt Lou?”
She sounded like she really cared, so I nervously shifted my package to my other hand and stopped to answer.
“She’s getting lots better, thank you. She is even up now.”
“Good,” she said and then gave me another nice smile.
I looked around. I guess I expected Jack Berry to be lurking somewhere close at hand.
I was about to turn and go on my way when Camellia stopped me again.
“Would you care for some ice cream, Joshua?” she asked. Coming from anyone other than Camellia I would have considered that a pretty dumb question. Of course I liked ice cream.
“Papa gave me some money for a treat,” Camellia went on, “and I do hate to eat all alone.”
“Sure,” I said, shuffling a bit awkwardly. “I’ll have some with you.”
I stopped thinking about Jack Berry. He really wasn’t worth worrying about anyway.
We walked together to the sweet shop, and I held the door for Camellia. We settled ourselves at the counter on one of the high stools and gave our order. Vanilla for Camellia, chocolate for me.
Of course I had no intention of letting Camellia pay, and I was thankful that before leaving the house I’d had the good foresight to drop some coins into my Levi’s.
“I suppose you’ve heard I am no longer seeing Jack,” Camellia said casually. My head jerked up. She was looking down demurely and her lashes laid dark and soft upon her cheeks. I had almost forgotten just how pretty Camellia was.
I shook my head that no, I hadn’t heard that.
“Well, it’s true,” she continued. “He was just so dull. Papa never could endure him. Papa just detests a person with no wits, and Jack was certainly witless.”
I couldn’t have agreed more, but I didn’t say so.
“Papa says he thinks that Jack has chalk dust where his brains should be,” Camellia laughed. “He was just so boring. He couldn’t reason a thing out for himself. Why, he couldn’t even follow the thinking of a person who could reason. He never will make anything of himself.”
She shrugged her shoulders carelessly. “So he has gone off to the big city. He said he’s going to find a job and make all kinds of money and then I’ll be sorry.” She laughed again as though she found that hard to believe.
I sat there, not saying anything. I hated Jack Berry. Yet somehow it didn’t seem right that Camellia, who had supposedly liked him, sat there and said such harsh things about him. But I pushed it all from my mind. What did I care about what had happened between Camellia and Jack, anyway? I looked at Camellia. She was as pretty as ever. Maybe even prettier.
She turned to me and said, “So what have you been doing, Joshua?”
I shifted nervously. “Oh, dunno. Nothin’ much, I guess. Been helpin’ Aunt Lou.”
“I thought you might be at the farm,” she commented.
“I will any day now. Grandpa thought I should stay a few more days till Aunt Lou gets a bit more of her strength back.”
Our ice cream arrived—which I paid for—and we took a few bites before Camellia turned those blue eyes on me again.
“I’ve missed you, Joshua,” she said softly and I nearly choked on my spoon. “Mama has missed you, too,” she hurried on. “She has always said that you are the nicest and the bravest boy she knows.”
I thought that that was awfully kind of her mother. I took another spoonful of ice cream so I wouldn’t be expected to say anything.
“And Mama keeps telling Papa that being a preacher really isn’t that bad,” Camellia added.
“I’ve kinda changed my mind on that,” I said rather slowly. “I don’t think I want to be a preacher after all.”
Camellia’s face lit up.
“You don’t?”
“Naw. I kinda got to thinkin’ that I might like to be a lawyer. Or a university professor, maybe. I don’t know for sure yet.”
Camellia was giving me her biggest smile, her lashes fluttering as she did so. I knew she was pleased with my new direction in life.
I finished my ice cream and suddenly remembered why I had been sent up town.
“I’ve gotta get,” I said. “Aunt Lou’s waiting for this yeast.”
I gathered my package and my cap and prepared to take my leave.
“Thank you, Joshua, for the ice cream,” Camellia said, and then added so softly that only I could hear her words, “You’re welcome to come over—any time.”
I blushed and rushed from the sweet shop, sure that everyone must be staring after me. I glanced back at Camellia from the door. She was still sitting on the high stool, rhythmically swinging her legs back and forth. She gave me another of her smiles and then I was gone.
I was about to place the package on the kitchen table and run back outside but Aunt Lou stopped me.
“I have some fresh cookies, Josh. Would you like some?”
Now, normally I would not turn down such an offer. Aunt Lou prided herself on her cookies and I liked them, too, but I’d just had me a dish of ice cream. Still, I didn’t want to refuse her, so I grinned, said, “Sure,” and threw my cap in the corner.
Pixie always insisted on sharing my cookie time. I didn’t object but held her close and fed her little broken-off nibbles now and then. These were the first cookies Aunt Lou had baked since—since she had been sick, and they sure did taste good all right.
“They’re great,” I enthused to Aunt Lou around the cookie that was in my mouth.
“I’m glad you like them,” she answered and sat down in the chair next to me at the table. “Maybe now I’ll be able to bake regularly again.”
I sure was not blaming her for not keeping up with the baking, and I wanted to tell her so. But I didn’t know quite how to say it, so I just reached for another cookie and fed Pixie another nibble before I popped the rest into my mouth.
“I haven’t really talked to you about the baby, have I, Josh?” Aunt Lou said then, and I looked up, hoping that she wouldn’t want to talk about her even now.
“You didn’t even see her, did you?”
I shook my head. I’d had no desire to see Aunt Lou’s baby.
“She was so tiny. So tiny. Why, she was almost lost in her nightie and blanket.”
I could tell by Aunt Lou’s voice that the memory of her little baby was both painful and pleasureful to her.
“We were wrong about her birthing time, Josh,” Aunt Lou went on quickly. “She was full term.”
My head came up then and I looked directly at Aunt Lou.
“Then why did she—?” I stopped short. I just couldn’t say the word “die.”
“Why did she die? Because she had some terrible deformities. You see, we didn’t know it at the time, but Doc says now that I was already expecting the baby when I had the measles. You remember the measles, Josh? Well, measles can be bad for babies in the first few months—I mean, if the mother gets them. It can cause abnormalities—serious ones. We haven’t talked much about it to folks because we don’t want the Smiths to feel bad that I caught the measles while helping them. I didn’t know about the baby then, or I would have stayed away.”