Julia's Hope by Leisha Kelly

weren’t for her.
    We’d be okay here for awhile, as long as we could get food. And maybe that was all that mattered. Even if we had to leave, life would go on. Somewhere. And maybe that’s all life was: survival. Do what you have to until the Lord puts you someplace else.
    With the sunshine bursting over the horizon toward me, I crossed the shaggy yard to the barn. I was supposed to fix the creaky old thing; it was one of the conditions of our being here. Get the barn, not just the house, in shape. As I looked up at the old rafters from inside, the task seemed impossible. No wonder Julia had been afraid to spend our first night in here. The roof was coming off. The walls were in sorry shape. I didn’t know where to begin. I even wondered if it might be easier to tear the whole thing down and start over, but I didn’t know how to do that either. I’d bitten off a lot more than I could chew.
    In back of the barn, a fence stretched eastward. Some of it stood in fairly good condition, but the rest of it had fallen down and lay lost in the weeds. Maybe Emma Graham had cows once.
    I turned around in time to see a mouse scurry across the old hay, and I almost laughed. We do have animals here, Mr. Hammond. Mice and snakes and who knows what else. No wonder Julia thought there should be a dog.
    Looking out at the new sun, I could picture my mother laughing at me for standing here wondering what to do with myself. “Sam,” she’d say, “why can’t you just admit when you’re being an idiot?”
    Above me, a board was creaking in the gentle breeze. And behind me, I heard the sound of something moving, some little animal, but I didn’t turn to look. More mice probably, figuring they owned the place.
    “Lord, am I making a mistake?” I looked up into the dusty loft, and a piece of old hay fluttered down toward me. I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. I wasn’t sure what to do. Yesterday it had seemed like a good idea to bring the old lady home, but now I wasn’t sure if I could handle any of it.
    Just to have something to occupy my mind, I looked at the old wagon that sat in the west end of the barn. The wagon was small and probably well used once but wasn’t much account now. The bottom had fallen out and two of the four wheels were beyond repair. It was a relic, not fit for anything anymore. But the thought that Emma Graham might feel the same way suddenly saddened me. God bless her. At least she’s giving me a chance, far better than I deserve.
    It gave me a certain resolve. Even if she couldn’t live here, she should be able to visit, see the place, and go out by the pond where her husband’s grave lay under the trees. But it was such a long way to walk, with her not able to take a normal step. How would we get her to the grave site? There was just too much to think about. Too many problems I couldn’t solve. Better to stop thinking and find some work to do.
    I went to the shed for the axe and chopped at the branches I’d dragged up from the woods yesterday. At least we’d have a little wood, since the basement supply was gone now. I kept at the chopping until my shoulders hurt, and then I went inside again, carrying an armload of wood in case Julia needed more already. She was making some kind of muffins, and she turned to me with her prettiest smile.
    “Oh, thanks, Sam. Just set it right by the stove.”
    She had her brown hair pulled back into a bun again, and wore one of Mrs. Graham’s aprons. I had to smile; she looked so good to me. So at home. “You got the oven lit already?” I asked her, envying her ability to fit right in. She’d been raised for such a life by her grandma. But I’d been raised thinking that if I couldn’t prove my worth by making a buck, then I wasn’t worth anything.
    “I set the fire in the oven right after you went out,” she said. “It’s about right now for the muffins.”
    I stood there for a moment, looking over at the box in the corner. Stuff we’d brought down