face. “How long you think we’ll be stayin’ here?”
“I really don’t know,” Samuel answered.
“We could all go home without Pa.”
But Samuel shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. You can’t.”
“Lizbeth is sick,” Joe reminded him. “And she ain’t no grown-up. Us neither. Jus’ let it go. It wouldn’t be right over t’ home right now.”
Kirk was solemn, but he said nothing more. Lizbeth was lying down again, her fever coming and going in waves. But she gave him a list of what she thought he ought to bring. It was short. I thought that must mean she was hopeful, and I prayed George would come home today.
I made a grocery list for Samuel with the most important things on top in case they were unable to get everything. Surely the grocer would accept our milk and eggs, though we couldn’t spare a large quantity of either. We’d taken some in to him once before. I could only hope he would also take Samuel’s cedar box, but I had no idea how he would judge its value.
When they had left I diced onion for the soup pot and tried to come up with ways to engage the children in something just as engrossing as the paper manger scene. But I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do to capture Willy’s interest. At least he seemed to like Robert’s company. Harry was feeling enough better to be restless. And Berty only sat in the chair a couple of minutes. At first I thought he must have gotten up because he was feeling better already, but I soon discovered that he’d gone in to snuggle on the mattress with Lizbeth. The little fellow was soon asleep at her side, fevering the way Emmie had been.
The day seemed to go that way, with Harry, Berty, and Emmie feeling better and then worse again alternately. Lizbeth got up and tried to act like she was fine, but I could tell she really wasn’t feeling herself. Rorey stayed quietly out of sorts and to herself. I was glad when Samuel and Kirk got back with her very own doll. She seemed to perk up a little then.
They hadn’t been able to get everything from the store, but what they did bring was a blessing. Especially the sugar. The grocer had wanted the cedar box and the eggs, but he couldn’t use the milk because he already had so much. We’d not been the only farm family to bring some in to him. Samuel kissed me. He seemed relieved to be able to bring me groceries, but Kirk was very quiet. Ben Law had seen them in town and had stopped to talk for a moment. There was still no sign of George.
Where could he have gone in this cold, without a horse or vehicle? Why would he think that taking off this way would help anything at all? Surely he would still be carrying his miserable feelings right along with him, wherever he was. And he certainly wasn’t making his children very happy.
I fed everybody that felt like eating, and then Samuel started working on the radio. It hadn’t worked well for a couple of months, but he thought he knew what might help. Franky stopped working on sheep to watch him, but Sarah’s obsession with the paper nativity hadn’t faded. She worked on head coverings for Mary and Joseph, and an extra big star pasted to a long paper tube to stand up behind the manger scene on Christmas Eve.
“Where did you leave the baby Jesus?” I asked her, not wanting Franky’s handiwork to get lost or crumpled underfoot in this full house of ours.
“In heaven,” she answered me with a smile. “Upstairs.”
“Up off the floor, I hope.”
“He’s on my dresser.”
But when she went to get him later because she wanted to add stripes to his blanket, she couldn’t find the little figure. She looked on the dresser, under it, behind it, and all around. But she wasn’t upset. “He isn’t born yet,” she told me again. “He’ll be here in time for Christmas Eve.”
Somebody had moved him, of course. But I didn’t tell her anything more. It’d turn up, or we’d have to make another one.
That night, Samuel had the radio in order enough
“I really don’t know,” Samuel answered.
“We could all go home without Pa.”
But Samuel shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. You can’t.”
“Lizbeth is sick,” Joe reminded him. “And she ain’t no grown-up. Us neither. Jus’ let it go. It wouldn’t be right over t’ home right now.”
Kirk was solemn, but he said nothing more. Lizbeth was lying down again, her fever coming and going in waves. But she gave him a list of what she thought he ought to bring. It was short. I thought that must mean she was hopeful, and I prayed George would come home today.
I made a grocery list for Samuel with the most important things on top in case they were unable to get everything. Surely the grocer would accept our milk and eggs, though we couldn’t spare a large quantity of either. We’d taken some in to him once before. I could only hope he would also take Samuel’s cedar box, but I had no idea how he would judge its value.
When they had left I diced onion for the soup pot and tried to come up with ways to engage the children in something just as engrossing as the paper manger scene. But I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do to capture Willy’s interest. At least he seemed to like Robert’s company. Harry was feeling enough better to be restless. And Berty only sat in the chair a couple of minutes. At first I thought he must have gotten up because he was feeling better already, but I soon discovered that he’d gone in to snuggle on the mattress with Lizbeth. The little fellow was soon asleep at her side, fevering the way Emmie had been.
The day seemed to go that way, with Harry, Berty, and Emmie feeling better and then worse again alternately. Lizbeth got up and tried to act like she was fine, but I could tell she really wasn’t feeling herself. Rorey stayed quietly out of sorts and to herself. I was glad when Samuel and Kirk got back with her very own doll. She seemed to perk up a little then.
They hadn’t been able to get everything from the store, but what they did bring was a blessing. Especially the sugar. The grocer had wanted the cedar box and the eggs, but he couldn’t use the milk because he already had so much. We’d not been the only farm family to bring some in to him. Samuel kissed me. He seemed relieved to be able to bring me groceries, but Kirk was very quiet. Ben Law had seen them in town and had stopped to talk for a moment. There was still no sign of George.
Where could he have gone in this cold, without a horse or vehicle? Why would he think that taking off this way would help anything at all? Surely he would still be carrying his miserable feelings right along with him, wherever he was. And he certainly wasn’t making his children very happy.
I fed everybody that felt like eating, and then Samuel started working on the radio. It hadn’t worked well for a couple of months, but he thought he knew what might help. Franky stopped working on sheep to watch him, but Sarah’s obsession with the paper nativity hadn’t faded. She worked on head coverings for Mary and Joseph, and an extra big star pasted to a long paper tube to stand up behind the manger scene on Christmas Eve.
“Where did you leave the baby Jesus?” I asked her, not wanting Franky’s handiwork to get lost or crumpled underfoot in this full house of ours.
“In heaven,” she answered me with a smile. “Upstairs.”
“Up off the floor, I hope.”
“He’s on my dresser.”
But when she went to get him later because she wanted to add stripes to his blanket, she couldn’t find the little figure. She looked on the dresser, under it, behind it, and all around. But she wasn’t upset. “He isn’t born yet,” she told me again. “He’ll be here in time for Christmas Eve.”
Somebody had moved him, of course. But I didn’t tell her anything more. It’d turn up, or we’d have to make another one.
That night, Samuel had the radio in order enough
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