by Janette Oke
And Uncle Charlie gave her a new shawl. She’ll prob’ly wear it to church—maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’ll—”
I caught myself too late. None of the Lewises ever went to church. I hurried on.
“An’ Grandpa gave her a new dress. Boy, is it pretty. Looks real nice on her, too. She tried it on already. She hopes that somebody gets married soon or somethin’ so that she can wear it.”
Cullum was still watchin’ Auntie Lou.
“And Gramps gave her a jew’ry box and a locket on a little chain that used to be my great-grandmother’s.”
Burt Thomas was sayin’ something to Auntie Lou and makin’ her laugh. Cullum shifted his feet.
“Guess I’d better be headin’ home, Josh. Got a little further to go than some of ’em.”
He moved as though he was leavin’. I jumped up, almost forgettin’ to rescue Pixie from bein’ dumped on the ground.
“Jest wait a minute, okay?” I said hurriedly and shoved Pixie at him. “Here, hold her a minute.”
It was hard to get close enough to tug on Auntie Lou’s skirt.
I jest waved my head and she excused herself and followed me.
I could see her eyes askin’ me if something was wrong, so as quickly as possible I blurted out my reason.
“Cullum has to go home early. He has a long way to drive.
I jest thought that you’d like to thank him for comin’, that’s all.”
Her face relaxed then and she put her hand on my shoulder and we walked over to Cullum. He was standin’ there strokin’ Pixie. He was such a big man, holdin’ such a little dog, that it looked rather comical.
“Josh tells me that you need to leave,” said Auntie Lou in a soft voice.
“Thet’s right,” answered Cullum, still fondlin’ Pixie. “Takes awhile to make the drive an’ I need to be up early in the mornin’.
Not through with my own fall work yet, havin’ worked the threshin’ crew fer so long.”
Auntie Lou nodded and I could guess that she was thinkin’, Tomorrow is the Lord’s day, but she didn’t say so. She gave Cullum a warm smile and extended her hand. Cullum nearly dropped Pixie and I reached out to save her from impendin’ disaster.
“Thank you so much for comin’, Cullum. I know that you’re very busy, and I do appreciate your helpin’ me to celebrate my birthday.”
Auntie Lou spoke the words sincerely, and I knew that she meant every one of them.
“My pleasure,” replied Cullum, and I knew that he meant that, too.
Auntie Lou retrieved her hand.
“I hope that you get your harvest all cared for before a storm.”
He nodded. “Thank ya.”
Someone by the fire called for Auntie Lou. If it’s Burt Thomas, I thought, I’ll wring his neck. Auntie Lou looked around.
“I must go,” she apologized. “Thank you again, Cullum.”
“I was wonderin’—”
But she had turned and was leavin’ and she didn’t look back.
I was sure that she hadn’t caught the softly spoken words of Cullum. I moved forward to run after her but Cullum’s hand stopped me.
“Take good care of thet pup, Josh.” Then he was gone.
I went into the house then. I’d had enough. Burt Thomas was still hangin’ ’round Auntie Lou like a fly around molasses, and Barkley Shaw was still teasin’ all of the girls and showin’ off in spite of the melted butter on the seat of his pants.
I felt a little upset with Auntie Lou. She could have been nicer to Cullum—jest given him an extra smile, or a flutter of the eyelashes, or one of those tricks that girls use—but Auntie Lou never did those things. Maybe she did like Cullum. I didn’t know, but I sure could guess how Cullum felt about her. I felt sorry for Cullum. I would fight with every inch of me to keep Auntie Lou, but if the day ever did come when I had to lose her, I sure was cheerin’ for Cullum.
I ran to shut the chicken-house door that I had forgotten in all of the excitement, and then I went into the house. It was chilly outside by now and in the kitchen I leaned close to the stove to soak up a little warmth before goin’ up to bed.
Auntie Lou came in. She was alone.
“Like a piece of cake, Josh?”
I didn’t answer. I was still put out with her, and I wanted to be sure that she’d get the message.
“Cake, Josh?” she said again.
When I still didn’t answer she came over to me.
“Something wrong?” Her eyes checked Pixie to make sure that the dog was okay.
“Pa send ya to bed?” she tried again.
“Nope.”
“Then what—”
“I jest figure that ya coulda been a little nicer, that’s all. Here he comes all the way over here and all, and . . .” I really didn’t know what to accuse Auntie Lou of.
“I thanked him for comin’—and I meant it, Josh.”
“Yeah, but ya didn’t thank him very good,” I blurted. “Ya coulda—ya coulda giggled or something.”
Auntie Lou looked at me sharply. I think that she understood it all then.
“Josh,” she said. “I like Cullum, truly I do—as a man, as a friend; but, Josh,” she searched for words, “Cullum has never— has never had time for God. I don’t know that—that he even believes that there is a God.
“I’m happy, Josh, to have Cullum call, to be neighborly, to—uh—speak with and all. I like him. He’s a nice man; but,
Josh, I could never like Cullum in any other way—not as long as he chooses to leave God out of his life.”
“I didn’t say ya had to marry him,” I snapped; “jest sort of make him—make him feel good by bein’ extra nice.”
“Joshua!”
Auntie Lou hardly ever called me by my full name.
“Cullum is too fine a man to play games with. I wouldn’t mislead or hurt him for the world. I could never encourage him, and it wouldn’t be fair to pretend that I could.”
She was right, of course. I knew that. I was glad to hear that Auntie Lou thought that Cullum was a fine man. Maybe if he knew, he’d start goin’ to church, and then Auntie Lou would feel different about it. But even as the thought came to me, I knew that it would take more than just his showin’ at church. Auntie Lou would want to be good and sure that he felt about God like she did before she committed herself in any way.
Auntie Lou suddenly realized that she should be outside. They were busy cleanin’ up now. They’d all soon be goin’ home. She wrapped her shawl tightly about her shoulders and went out.
“Good-night, Josh.”
“Good-night.”
I turned to go up to bed and then decided to get a little more warmth first. I sat down on the kitchen floor, curled up tightly against the wall and close to the big old stove. I got drowsy sit-tin’ there in the warmth. Pixie was sound asleep in my arms. I knew that I should move to my bed before I did fall asleep, but it was so warm and comfortable there. Uncle Charlie and Grandpa were both helpin’ with the clean-up and Gramps had long ago taken to his bed.
I tried rousin’ myself again and then I heard voices. It was Auntie Lou and dumb ol’ Burt Thomas. I supposed that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had sent them in again. Burt was sayin’ something to Auntie Lou.
“Is that so?” she said, but she didn’t sound very excited about it.
“I’ve always thought so, an’ now tonight I realize it even more.”
Auntie Lou didn’t respond—jest started pilin’ dirty dishes on the kitchen table.
“Really, Lou,” Burt continued, and he sounded like he was in pain or something. “I care about ya an awful lot. You’re the only girl thet I’ve ever felt this way about.”
Lou was probably thinkin’ right then about Tillie White-comb, who’d been Burt’s girl last month, or Marjorie Anderson, who had been the one the month before.
“Oh,” she said—not even a “thank ya for the compliment,”
or “you flatter me,” or nothin’.
Burt suddenly seem
ed to feel that talkin’ was gettin’ him nowhere, and before Auntie Lou could even move he whirled her about, jerked her close and kissed her.
Everything stopped. I expected thunder and lightnin’.
Auntie Lou pushed herself away from Burt and back a pace.
Her eyes flashed. I was hopin’ that she would hit him, but she didn’t. She jest stood there with her eyes blazin’, and when she spoke her voice was even and cold.
“Burt Thomas, don’t you ever come near me again!” She spun on her heel, her skirts swishin’ angrily, and was gone.
No one had even noticed me.
I pushed myself up after Burt had left and gathered Pixie closer.
“Scratch number three,” I whispered to her and started up the stairs grinnin’.
CHAPTER 19
The Announcement
IT WAS A tougher gettin’ up for church the next mornin’ but Grandpa saw to it that everybody did. I crawled out sleepy-eyed when I was called, dreading going out to do my chores. I was surprised to see everyone already seated at the table.
“Yer Uncle Charlie took pity on ya this mornin’,” Grandpa said.
Uncle Charlie grinned. “Oh, sure. I git the blame for everything ’round here. It was yer Grandpa who slopped the hogs.”
“Thanks,” I said to both of them.
“Was it a good party?” asked Gramps, addressin’ himself to everyone, but to Auntie Lou in particular.
“Real good,” she agreed.
“Everybody stay late?”
“Pretty late.”
Grandpa decided that it was his turn.
“Thet there young Thomas,” he said, “he sure seems like a fine young fella. I was impressed with the way thet he pitched right in and helped ya like.”
Auntie Lou’s expression did not change.
“You asked him to, Pa, iffen you remember.”
“Well, yeah—“ Grandpa hedged, “but he never tried to git out of it. Some fellas woulda begged of, hunted up excuses—”
“To get out of spending some time with the prettiest girl at the show?” asked Gramps, his eyes narrow.
“Well, I do admit,” grinned Grandpa, “thet it don’t take too much talkin’ to git a young fella interested in givin’ Lou a hand.”
Things were quiet for a moment, then Grandpa tried again.
“Still in all, he does seem like a sensible, steady young fellow. They say he’s a real good worker, got his own piece of land.
Some young girl will be right lucky to—”
“Pa,” she said and her voice was gentle yet angry. “That all may be true, but I won’t be the girl. I have not, and I do not, and I will never in the future care for Burt Thomas. He is vain, borin’, and—and a flirt.”
Auntie Lou stood up slowly, untied her apron and draped it over her chair.
“I’m goin’ to dress for church.”
Gramps looked at me and his eyes were twinklin’. Somehow he seemed to know that Auntie Lou was quite capable of handlin’ herself.
Nothin’ of much importance happened at church. I knew that I had to go; it was one of Grandpa’s unwritten laws for our household, but there wasn’t much that he could do to make sure that I was really listenin’.
I turned everything off after the openin’ hymn. If God wasn’t on my side, I reasoned that He could jest stumble along without me on His.
I did pull my attention back for a few minutes when there was a stir and Mr. T. Smith stepped to the front. Everyone knew that Mr. T. Smith was the chairman of the church board. He cleared his throat and tried to look like he didn’t consider the position as elevated too much above the rest.
“You all know,” he said, “thet our good pastor and his wife have expressed a desire to retire. We will miss them deeply, but we know thet they have earned the right to some pleasant and—and . . .” He stammered around a bit. It was then that I realized that he had memorized his speech and it had slipped from him. His face started to get red. He finally gave up on the prepared speech and hurried on.
“As I was sayin’, we’ll miss them, but we’re happy about it—for the Whites—we’re happy that they can retire and rest after their many years of faithful service.”
That last part sounded good and I figured that he may have got hold of a piece of his prepared speech again.
“Although we will miss the Whites, we are happy to announce that yer church board has been successful in findin’ a replacement. The Reverend Nathaniel Crawford will come to take Reverend White’s place sometime in the very near future. We trust that you will all make him welcome and give him yer support.”
A general stir followed the announcement. Nathaniel Crawford, I thought. What a name! I had a Bible name, too, and so did my Grandpa, but it sure wasn’t a mouthful like Nathaniel. I dismissed the new preacher as not worth thinkin’ on and went back to my day-dreamin’. It all had very little to do with me.
Reverend White started his message. I listened for jest a minute or two to find out what I’d be missin’. It was on repentin’ again. I’d heard that before. This time he was usin’ poor ol’ Paul as his example of a wicked man turned good. I tuned out. Ol’ Paul probably never, ever had anything bothersome happen to him. Why shouldn’t he be good?
After church Avery Garrett and I chased a few girls with grasshoppers that hadn’t been smart enough to tuck themselves away for the cold weather ahead. Then Grandpa called that we were ready to go home.
I didn’t bother takin’ off my shoes. It was cool enough now that they felt kinda good on my feet.
I thought of Cullum and wondered if he’d get all his crop in before winter hit. I sure hoped so. I wished that I was big enough to give him a hand. Maybe someday I’d be able to.
The talk at the table was about the new preacher. Folks were wonderin’ where he was from, and what he’d be like, and what he had for family. The only thing I wondered was if he’d still preach on “gettin’ ready” and repentance and all. I didn’t care much for those kinds of sermons. Something about them made me feel a queer twistin’ deep on the inside of me.
I shrugged my shoulders. I really wasn’t plannin’ on lis-tenin’ much anyway, so I guessed it really didn’t matter what he preached about. I asked to be excused and went to find Pixie.
CHAPTER 20
Something Unexpected
THE MEN HAD to town that Saturday, and Auntie Lou and I were enjoyin’ a rather leisurely day at home. I was glad to have a full day with Pixie. As little as she was she had already learned to bark on command. I still hadn’t been able to teach her to be quiet though.
I worked with Pixie all that morning, tryin’ to get her to roll over when she was told. Her pudgy little legs and round body couldn’t manage the trick too well. Lou joined me on the kitchen floor as I worked and played with my dog. We couldn’t help but laugh at Pixie’s silly antics as she tried hard to twist herself over.
It wasn’t until about three o’clock that I decided to chop and haul wood. I put Pixie in her box; I didn’t want to take any chances on her getting in the way of the axe or flying wood chips. She needed a nap anyway.
I was busy choppin’ wood, admirin’ myself for my strength, when I heard a funny sound comin’ from the direction of the barn. I had never heard a sound like it before, so I sank the axe head into the choppin’ block and went to investigate. I found it all right. An old sow had found a pail somewhere and she had her head caught in it. She was gruntin’ and squealin’ and runnin’ into feed troughs and fences, shakin’ her tin head back and forth as she went.
I couldn’t help but laugh at her; she looked and sounded so funny.
After I had seen enough of the entertainment she provided, I decided that I’d better do something about it. I climbed into the pen.
I managed to herd her into a corner and get my hands on the pail. I pulled hard but nothin’ gave. After several more attempts to release her, I finally realized that I wasn’t accomplishing a thing except to work up a sweat. I decided to go for
Auntie Lou. Maybe she’d know what to do.
She laughed, too, when she saw the sow, but she got down to business much quicker than I had.
“We’ve got to pull it off.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll help you. Come on.”
She led the way back to the house, and when we got there she turned to me.
“Josh, bring me one of your shirts and a pair of Uncle Charlie’s overalls.”
I couldn’t see what that had to do with gettin’ the pail off that pig, but I went to do it. She took the clothes from me and hurried off to her room.
She looked pretty funny when she came down. She had plaited her loose curls into two long braids that hung down her shoulders; that was the first thing that I noticed. The rest of her I could hardly recognize. She was into the clothes that she had asked me to get. The shirt was a mite too small and the overalls way too big, and she made quite a sight. She grabbed a piece of twine from a kitchen drawer and wrapped a loop around her middle. The big baggy overalls were brought in to fit her tiny waist. They bunched up on either side of the string, givin’ her a crazy clown appearance. She rolled up the cuffs. It looked like she should have rolled up the crotch, too, but there wasn’t much that she could do about that. Pushin’ her feet into her gardenin’ boots, she took a silly curtsy and said, “Straight from Noo York.”
I laughed then. I wanted to before but I didn’t know if I dared. She laughed with me, slappin’ her funny bulgin’-overall tummy.
“What’d you do that for?” I asked when I could talk again.
She was sober now.
“We gotta get the pail off that pig, and I’ve a notion that we’ll have to throw her to do it. I’m not about to go wrestlin’ a pig in a dress.”
I could follow her reasoning but she sure did look funny. I had never seen Auntie Lou in anything so ridiculous before.
We had us a real time with that old sow. She was as dumb as she was stubborn. I couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t cooperate—at least a little bit. We chased and caught her and struggled—jest to lose her again. Around and around we went.