Winter Is Not Forever (20 page)

“We don’t even know what this here new teacher will be like. She might—she might be—disgusting.”

I couldn’t think of anything specific to charge her with. Uncle Charlie raised his eyebrows at that and turned his gaze toward Grandpa. Grandpa understood his unanswered question and responded.

“ ’Course I checked her out. I wouldn’t want her spittin’ tobaccy through the cracks, now, would I?”

Uncle Charlie’s mustache twitched slightly, and I knew he was hiding a smile.

“She’s from a good Christian home over near Edgeworth. She’s got high recommendations, and hopes to become part of our church. She asked about stayin’ in a Christian home when she applied here,” went on Grandpa.

Still, Uncle Charlie looked a bit doubtful for a moment. He spoke for the first time for several minutes.

“Her folks would okay her staying on here?”

“We been checked out,” said Grandpa frankly.

“What family would let their young girl stay with three old bachelors?” I argued. “Surely they—”

“Let’s do it,” said Uncle Charlie.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“What do
you
think, Josh?” Uncle Charlie surprised me by turning to me. Hadn’t he been listening to a thing I’d said?

“He said it was your kitchen, and your decision,” Grandpa answered on my behalf.

“Did ya?” Uncle Charlie looked squarely at me.

“Yeah, but—” I began.

“Then let’s do it,” Uncle Charlie said again, emphatically. “I think it’s time we had a woman here in this house.”

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe Uncle Charlie had let Grandpa talk him into something so foolish. Then it began to dawn on me that Grandpa really said very little. I had been doing most of the talking, and I might have just talked myself right into a corner.

I was even more sure of it when I was preparing for bed and Uncle Charlie’s voice drifted up the stairs to me.

“I’m worried some about Josh,” he said.

“Meaning?” asked Grandpa.

“Did ya hear ’im? Sounded like he was scared of women—or else thinks thet they are a curse rather than a blessin’. Talked all thet silly stuff ’bout them messin’ up his routine.”

“Yer right,” sighed Grandpa. “Guess Lou is the only woman Josh has really had much to do with.”

“Hope we ain’t too late,” said Uncle Charlie and there was genuine concern in his voice.

I reached out and closed my bedroom door. Uncle Charlie’s words made me angry, but I began to feel a little scared, too. Did I really feel that way about women? Was it too late? It was true that I dreaded the thought of sharing the house with two of the opposite sex. But why? I loved Aunt Lou. I loved little Sarah. I loved—or
had
loved—Camellia. What was I afraid of—fighting against?

And then it hit me. Uncle Charlie hadn’t been so fond of the idea, either. I could see it in his face. But without even arguing, he suddenly said, “Let’s do it.” And I was the reason. Uncle Charlie might not like a woman coming in and taking over his work and putting him aside. He might even feel useless and not needed any longer, but he was willing to sacrifice the way he felt because he was worried that I was developing unhealthy attitudes.

I decided that I wouldn’t say any more about the arrangements and when Grandpa asked me straight out, I told him to go ahead and do whatever he thought it wise to do. I was pretty sure what that would be.

Mary moved in first. Grandpa went over with the wagon and fetched her. She came with a small suitcase and a worn trunk, and I helped Grandpa haul it in.

I didn’t feel too uncomfortable with Mary. After all, we had known one another since we were kids and she was a member of our church and all. It wasn’t like a complete stranger coming into our home. Still, it was hard to adjust to having someone else around.

She chose the downstairs bedroom because she said it made more sense for her to be close by the kitchen, seeing as she would spend most of her time there.

We didn’t need to worry about Mary knowing how to do household chores. She had been tending house since she had been a young girl. She moved in and took over that kitchen, yet I had to admire her—she didn’t push Uncle Charlie aside. She asked this and praised that until she had him wrapped around her little finger. Didn’t take long, either. And she found him more little jobs to keep him busy than I would have ever thought possible.

They worked there in the kitchen together. I could hear them chatting and chuckling each time that I came near the house. It upset me a bit at first; then I began to realize how good it was for Uncle Charlie, and I started being thankful for Mary and her sensitivity.

Special treats began to show up at the table, too—green tomato relish and fresh butter tarts and oven-baked squash. Uncle Charlie had done his best, but Mary’s best was definitely better.

Mary had been there only a week when the new teacher moved in. Mary had already busied herself cleaning Aunt Lou’s room until it sparkled. She even put in a small bouquet of fall flowers and a tiny basket of polished apples.

Mary may have been excited, but I was dreading the thought of sharing a house with a finicky schoolmarm. I made myself scarce the day Miss Matilda Hopkins was to arrive. I wanted to be as far away from the house as possible. It wasn’t hard to do. We were already into harvest, and I had lots to keep me busy.

Miss Hopkins was to arrive by train, and Grandpa volunteered to go to the station to meet her.

I worked late. The supper hour came and went, but I purposely paid no heed to it. It was still light enough to work the field, so I just stayed working. Even though my stomach was complaining bitterly, I disregarded it. I was in no hurry to get to a kitchen overrun by women.

When it finally got too dark to see any longer, I unhitched the team and headed for the barn. I took my time watering and feeding the horses and giving them a good rubdown. A quick check around told me that Grandpa had already cared for the other chores. Normally I would have been thankful for that but tonight it just irked me a bit. I would have no excuse to escape the kitchen.

I finally headed for the house, grumpy and dirty. I knew that introductions would be in order and I also knew that I sure didn’t look my best. Well, I didn’t care. What difference could it make to some old-maid schoolteacher anyway?

I stomped my way across the back veranda and pulled open the door. The kitchen was empty, except for Grandpa and Uncle Charlie.

“Working kinda late,” Grandpa observed.

I stared around rather dumbly, but I wasn’t going to ask any questions. I crossed to the corner basin and poured myself a generous amount of water. Then I set about sloshing it thoroughly over my hands and face. When I looked up I noticed that I had also sloshed Mary’s well-scrubbed floor and spic-andspan washstand. I pretended not to notice and moved toward the table.

“Where’s supper?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Supper was over a couple hours ago,” said Grandpa, not even looking up from the paper he had gotten from somewhere.

“Yours is in the warmin’ oven,” said Uncle Charlie around his section of the paper.

I crossed to the warming oven and found a generous serving. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I saw and smelled the food. Even so, my good sense told me that it had been much better a couple of hours earlier. Well, that wasn’t Mary’s fault, I had to admit.

“Where’d you get the paper?” I asked around a mouthful.

“Matilda,” said Grandpa.

“Matilda?”

Grandpa just grunted.

“You mean Miss Hopkins?”

“She wants to be called Matilda,” Grandpa spoke again. There was silence as the two men pored over their sections of paper. We didn’t often see a daily paper in our house, and they seemed to find this one awfully intriguing.

“So she arrived, huh?” I tried again.

“Yep,” said Uncle Charlie; then he began to read aloud to Grandpa some bit of interesting news that he found in the paper. Grandpa listened and then they read in silence again. Soon it was Grandpa’s turn to read some little bit to Uncle Charlie. I expected they had been sitting there doing that all evening, and I also expected they would keep right on doing it. Some exciting evening this was going to be!

I finished my meal and pushed my plate back. “Any dessert?” I asked.

Grandpa waved a hand that still clutched the paper. “On the cupboard,” he said and never even looked up.

I found fresh custard pie—my favorite—and helped myself to a large piece. That was one nice thing about having Mary around—she sure could bake a pie! I had a second piece.

The two men still hadn’t stirred except to read to one another every now and then. They were really enjoying that paper.

My eyes traveled to Mary’s bedroom door. It was open a crack and I could see a neatly made bed and the small desk in the corner of the room. It was clear that Mary was not at home.

Finally I could stand it no longer.

“Kind of quiet,” I said. “Where is everyone?”

Grandpa lowered his paper just enough to look over it at me. “We’re here,” he said simply.

I blushed and ran a hand through my unruly hair. But Grandpa still didn’t pay much attention to me.

Uncle Charlie folded his section of paper carefully and laid it on the table beside him. He removed his tiny round reading glasses.

“You know,” he said to Grandpa, “I think Matilda’s right. A man does need to read the daily paper to keep up with what is goin’ on in the world. I can’t believe all the things I’ve learned in just one night.”

Grandpa grunted his agreement and shuffled through some more paper.

I carried my empty pie plate to the cupboard and piled it with my dinner plate—more out of habit than consideration. I was about to say I was going up to bed when Grandpa looked up.

“Oh, Josh,” he said, “Mary took Matilda over to her folks to introduce her. I let them hook Chester to the light buggy. Hope you don’t mind.”

I just stood there letting the words sink in. Not only were they taking over my kitchen and my house, but my horse, as well! Anger welled up within me, but at the same time I realized how juvenile it was to feel the way I did. I calmed myself, muttered some kind of reply to Grandpa, and started to climb the stairs.

“Goin’ to bed already?” Uncle Charlie called after me. “Yeah,” I replied, not even turning around. “It’s been a long day.”

“Sure you don’t wanta read a little of the paper here?” Grandpa asked.

I was in no mood for reading Matilda’s paper, I can tell you that, but I didn’t say so to Grandpa. At least not in those words.

“Think I’ll just go on to bed,” I said instead.

But I couldn’t sleep. I lay there tossing and turning and listening for the sound of buggy wheels.

They finally came. Then I could hear their whispering voices as they approached the house after putting Chester in the barn. They sounded like two young kids sneaking in the back door, but they weren’t kids and they weren’t sneaking in. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie were waiting right there at the kitchen table where I had left them.

I could hear the rattling of cups as Mary made them their before-bed coffee and then there was general chatter and some soft laughter and finally footsteps on the stairs, and then the house was quiet for the night.

I still couldn’t go to sleep. It seemed that life was out of control. All the old familiar ways seemed to be changing. Even our familiar routines seemed to be gone.

Then I thought of Grandpa and Uncle Charlie and that last cup of coffee, and I realized that things weren’t really so different after all.

C
HAPTER
21

Harvest

I
WASN’T IN A MUCH BETTER MOOD
when I awoke the next morning. I hadn’t had much sleep, but mostly I had my mind set to be ornery.

I got up early and went out to get a start on the chores. First, I went to check out Chester. I couldn’t find anything to get upset about so I went on down the lane to let the cows up for milking.

It wasn’t long until Grandpa joined me at the barn.

“Yer up early, Boy,” he greeted me. “You musta had a good sleep last night.”

I didn’t make any comment.

“How’s the cuttin’ comin’?” Grandpa went on.