a long, long, long time.
She laid a hand on his and tugged him toward the blanket. “Don’t you worry, Harry. We can eat and still play a game.”
Little Jimmy put his hand on Harry’s other arm and beamed up at him. Harry didn’t think he’d ever been happier.
Lillian watched Harry walk back up the bluff. She’d uncovered very little about the young man as the afternoon progressed. His ma and pa were dead, he had a mean uncle he didn’t live with anymore, and he was twenty years old. So where did he live? Was he all on his own? Even though he was an imposing figure and an adult in years, it was apparent that his mind was on the same level as Jimmy’s. This made Lillian’s heart ache. Who took care of him? Where did he get food? What would happen to him?
There was a young man named George that Reverend Owens had taken in back in Indianapolis. People said he was simple. Lillian had never known anyone more generous or kind. “Pure of heart” is what Reverend Owens used to say. Lillian always thought how refreshing and encouraging George was every time she spoke with him. She’d had that same feeling today.
Within an hour of their meeting, Harry and Jimmy were the best of friends. Jimmy never spoke, but Harry always understood the boy immediately. It was uncanny. Almost like they were having a conversation. When they went to pick flowers by the pond, Lillian had listened and watched closely.
Jimmy pointed to a patch of yellow flowers with what lookedlike bright red smiles on one side of the flower’s face. Harry spoke up. “My ma said those are monkey flowers. See, it’s like they have a big red mouth. I bet Miss Lillian likes them, too. Some monkey flowers are just yellow, and some are purple.” He frowned. “I think there are other colors, too.”
Jimmy pointed to another flower, and Harry nodded and picked one. “These purple ones are pretty, too. These are lupine. My mama liked flowers. They were her favorite.” He held one out toward the rabbit. “Mr. Whiskers, do you like those? Okay. We’ll pick some of those, too.”
“Harry, you seem to know a lot about flowers.”
He nodded with great enthusiasm. “I do. My ma taught me. She loved to plant flowers, and she showed me how and taught me their names.” He frowned. “Some I forget.”
Lillian shrugged. “I learned a lot of things that I’ve forgotten, too.” Her reply seemed to make Harry relax.
And the afternoon had been filled with Harry’s childlike voice and Jimmy’s smiles.
But the true highlight had been when they’d played together. Jimmy’s laughter echoed through her mind. Such a beautiful sound. Mrs. Goodman had told her just that morning that Jimmy hadn’t spoken since his mother’s death, had eaten very little, and hadn’t laughed at all. So when he’d come down the stairs and stared at the baby rabbit in the box, Lillian knew exactly what to do. The baby bunny wasn’t thriving all by itself, and neither was Jimmy.
She’d carefully bathed the little rabbit while Jimmy watched. She’d then fashioned that ridiculous sling out of a bandana Mrs. Goodman said was Mr. Colton’s and told Jimmy that it was special-made for baby bunnies. He believed her, and his eyes lit up to have the rabbit so close. As he poured himself intohis little furry friend, Lillian and Mrs. Goodman almost cried together over the biscuit dough. An instantaneous transformation had taken place.
The same thing happened during their picnic lunch. Mrs. Goodman had packed five sandwiches, saying that fishing and picnicking always made her hungry. And at the picnic, Lillian’s little charge ate two whole sandwiches. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep up with Harry or if he was just that hungry—but either way, it pleased her like nothing else could.
As Harry crested the hill to return to wherever he’d come from, she looked back at Jimmy. The little guy had fallen asleep leaning up against the tree. Apparently, playing in the sunshine
She laid a hand on his and tugged him toward the blanket. “Don’t you worry, Harry. We can eat and still play a game.”
Little Jimmy put his hand on Harry’s other arm and beamed up at him. Harry didn’t think he’d ever been happier.
Lillian watched Harry walk back up the bluff. She’d uncovered very little about the young man as the afternoon progressed. His ma and pa were dead, he had a mean uncle he didn’t live with anymore, and he was twenty years old. So where did he live? Was he all on his own? Even though he was an imposing figure and an adult in years, it was apparent that his mind was on the same level as Jimmy’s. This made Lillian’s heart ache. Who took care of him? Where did he get food? What would happen to him?
There was a young man named George that Reverend Owens had taken in back in Indianapolis. People said he was simple. Lillian had never known anyone more generous or kind. “Pure of heart” is what Reverend Owens used to say. Lillian always thought how refreshing and encouraging George was every time she spoke with him. She’d had that same feeling today.
Within an hour of their meeting, Harry and Jimmy were the best of friends. Jimmy never spoke, but Harry always understood the boy immediately. It was uncanny. Almost like they were having a conversation. When they went to pick flowers by the pond, Lillian had listened and watched closely.
Jimmy pointed to a patch of yellow flowers with what lookedlike bright red smiles on one side of the flower’s face. Harry spoke up. “My ma said those are monkey flowers. See, it’s like they have a big red mouth. I bet Miss Lillian likes them, too. Some monkey flowers are just yellow, and some are purple.” He frowned. “I think there are other colors, too.”
Jimmy pointed to another flower, and Harry nodded and picked one. “These purple ones are pretty, too. These are lupine. My mama liked flowers. They were her favorite.” He held one out toward the rabbit. “Mr. Whiskers, do you like those? Okay. We’ll pick some of those, too.”
“Harry, you seem to know a lot about flowers.”
He nodded with great enthusiasm. “I do. My ma taught me. She loved to plant flowers, and she showed me how and taught me their names.” He frowned. “Some I forget.”
Lillian shrugged. “I learned a lot of things that I’ve forgotten, too.” Her reply seemed to make Harry relax.
And the afternoon had been filled with Harry’s childlike voice and Jimmy’s smiles.
But the true highlight had been when they’d played together. Jimmy’s laughter echoed through her mind. Such a beautiful sound. Mrs. Goodman had told her just that morning that Jimmy hadn’t spoken since his mother’s death, had eaten very little, and hadn’t laughed at all. So when he’d come down the stairs and stared at the baby rabbit in the box, Lillian knew exactly what to do. The baby bunny wasn’t thriving all by itself, and neither was Jimmy.
She’d carefully bathed the little rabbit while Jimmy watched. She’d then fashioned that ridiculous sling out of a bandana Mrs. Goodman said was Mr. Colton’s and told Jimmy that it was special-made for baby bunnies. He believed her, and his eyes lit up to have the rabbit so close. As he poured himself intohis little furry friend, Lillian and Mrs. Goodman almost cried together over the biscuit dough. An instantaneous transformation had taken place.
The same thing happened during their picnic lunch. Mrs. Goodman had packed five sandwiches, saying that fishing and picnicking always made her hungry. And at the picnic, Lillian’s little charge ate two whole sandwiches. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep up with Harry or if he was just that hungry—but either way, it pleased her like nothing else could.
As Harry crested the hill to return to wherever he’d come from, she looked back at Jimmy. The little guy had fallen asleep leaning up against the tree. Apparently, playing in the sunshine