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Today was the 23rd of July. The hay was cut and dried in the hot hazy sun and ready to load in the wagon and put in the barn to feed the horses and Bessie the cow this winter. I think we had a good crop of hay this year. I don’t know why I think that, I just do. It would take us two or three days to get the hay I figured, ‘cause we didn’t work so fat. Red the Rooster woke me at daybreak. I asked him to do that since it was always best to get your work stared early in the day before the heat, Mama always said.
I could harness the horses myself now. I could even hook the wagon on to them. I smiled to myself at the good job I had done. “Haw, Sally and Sammy” I called to them as we made our way to the field. Lucy, Mary Lou and I each had a pitch fork and we began throwing the loose hay on the wagon. Load after load. The girls weren’t as good as I was at throwing the hay, so sometimes I would ask them to check on Moses who slept soundly in the box shaded by the cherry tree. When the sky was high in the sky I knew it was time for lunch and cool the horses down. Today we had cold egg sandwiches with Bessie’s milk. I had even made Mama’s famous molasses cookies. Mine weren’t so famous, but no one complained cause we were too tired.
“I don’t wanna do this anymore, Haley.” Lucy whined. “Me neither.” Mary Lou agreed. “It’s too hot.” I had to agree with Mary Lou that is was hot, but we weren’t even half finished loading the hay.
“Just two more hours,” I promised “and then we’ll call it a day.”
“Ahh Haley,” Lucy replied. You’re mean. Meaner than Papa.”
“Ya,” Mary Lou mimicked “you’re just mean. Mama wouldn’t have made us come out here and do Papa’s work in the first place.”
I took my pitch fork and drove it in the ground with force. “Look you two,” I said sternly. “Do you see Mama or Papa here? Do ya? Do ya?” there was no reply. “Well then, that’s your answer. Now get back to work. Now!” As much as I didn’t want to be mean and ugly, I had to show the girls that I was in charge. Otherwise, nothing would get done and we had just two more days before Mr. MacPhee came back from social services and I had a plan that we had two days to prepare for.
Last night I laid awake for hours thinking about the worst. Mama said that was called worrying and worrying caused no good. I just couldn’t let Mr. MacPhee take us to foster homes. There was a foster child at our school once who had been separated from his brothers and sisters and he said they all went to different families. I don’t know if they ever got to see each other again ‘cause that boy was really bad and they had to send him to reform school. Well I couldn’t ever let that happen to my family. The last thing Mama said before she went to heaven was for me to look after my sisters and brother. I couldn’t let her down. I wouldn’t let us get separated to different families and have Moses end up in reform school. I would do whatever I could, even if it meant not going back to school in September.
I found a pair of Papa’s old boots in the barn. I wore them around the manure pile to get fresh poop in the bottoms and sides. I tracked them good on the steps and then set them safely beside his chair on the porch. I filled his smoking pipe with the sweet smelling tobacco and lit it and rested it in the ashtray that hadn’t been moved since Papa had his last smoke while sitting here on the porch two weeks ago. Then I took his coffee cup half full and sat it on his reading table. Lastly, I tossed some of his clothes over the bed and strewn some on the floor. Just like Papa would have done if he were still here. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Papa had been here this morning. I was hoping that Mr. MacPhee would think the same.
Moses was two weeks old now. He was such a good little baby, I thought. All he did was drink milk, sleep and poop. The changing diaper part I didn’t care for, or washing the diapers afterward, but he was so cut it made it all worthwhile. Every time I looked at him, which wasn’t often these days ‘cause I was so busy with my responsibilities, I could see he had my eyes. He had no hair yet but I was hoping it would be red like mine.
I thought it best to let the girls play today or at least until Mr. MacPhee made his visit to make it look like I didn’t make them do work. “When the man comes that drives the big Ford, I want you girls to take your dolls and go play. You are to say hello to him, but nothing else.” I didn’t want them blurting out anything stupid, like the truth about Papa.
I was sitting on the porch in Papa’s chair, rocking baby Moses, when I could hear the car coming up the lane. It looked all shiny and new, glistening in the sun and I watched the big rubber tired going round and round and come to a stop in front of me. Sure enough, Mr. MacPhee got out of the driver’s side. He walked around the car and opened the door and there was the best thing I had seen in ages.
“Miss Simpson!” With Moses in my arms I ran to her and gave her a big hug. “I can’t believe it’s you!”
“Oh, Haley. I’m Mrs. Carter now. I got married, remember?” Miss Simpson gave me a kiss on the cheek and one for Moses too. Of course Mr. MacPhee had to ruin the moment.
“Is your father at home miss?” He asked. I looked around to glance at his pipe, boots and coffee cup that remained where I had left hem just hours earlier.
“You just missed him” I replied. “He left after breakfast”
“I see” Mr. MacPhee said as he eyed the boot tracks that lead sloppily up the steps to Papa’s chair.
“Yes, he did the chores and then went on his way to earn money.” “Mr. Clarke is a woodsman,” Miss Simpson added. “He was always a good worker and provided well for his family as long as he stayed away from the liquor.”
I could tell’ what Mr. MacPhee was thinking, just like everyone else thought. If Papa was such a good provider for his family, then why was our property in such a dilapidated state.
“Times have been hard around this place, Mr. MacPhee. After the depression, it has taken folks a long time to get back on their feet. The Clarke’s’ are not the only family that need upkeep done.
“It will get done.” I said. “Papa said it would be done after the harvest.” The roof on the barn and our house needed patching. The fences were falling down. The windows were patched and weakened. Some paint would do good too. We would need a miracle.
“So your father isn’t planning any more trips is he, Miss Clarke?”
“Oh no,” I replied. When he came home and found out Mama had gone to heaven, he promised he would never go on any trips again and leave us children alone.” I would be praying long and hard for forgiveness for all these lies I was telling. I was glad Lucy and Mary Lou weren’t close enough to hear me.
“Do you have lots to eat, Haley?” Miss Simpson asked, clearly concerned. I assured her our bellies were full and that was the truth, and we still had lots of the food left that she had bought us. Plus we had six fresh eggs from the hens and milk from Bessie everyday, and soon we would have fresh vegetables from the garden. Mr. MacPhee gave me a piece of paper with his name and address on it.
“If your father ever goes on another trip again, I want you to write me a letter and tell me. You can write, can’t you?”
“Of course I can write, I am twelve years old, sir. And I can do my times tables too.”
Mr. MacPhee simile, or nearly smiled. “Promise me you will notify us if something happens and we will take care of your family.” “Yes, Sir,” I replied, knowing fully well I would never write him anything.
Hayley's Journal Page 3