Emma’s heart all but stopped.
Fred merely shook his head, and no one said a word until Al started talking to Jenny. “How do you like the Northwoods?”
“It’s different in many ways,” she answered, “and I miss my family and friends, but I like the clean air and the tall pine trees, and people here have been friendly.”
“And the school?”
She hesitated a moment before she answered, “It’s certainly a challenge. I first taught in city schools.”
Al chuckled. “It must be a challenge. Are the children different from the ones out East?”
“No, not much different.” She toyed with her fork a moment and said, “I can’t seem to get close to the children here. When I lean over to help them with their work, they pull away from me.”
“The children out East didn’t do that?”
“No, they didn’t.”
Al shot a quick, glance at Emma and continued. “Emma tells me you’re fond of raw onion sandwich, Did you always eat them?”
“Oh, no! My mother abhorred them, but here. . .”
A smile twitched at the comers of Emma’s mouth. Al gave Jenny a sidelong glance and kept eating.
For a little while everyone was quiet, except for Emma’s encouraging Ellie to drink her milk.
Suddenly Jenny dropped her fork, put her hand over her mouth, and said, “You mean. . .you mean. .” Al grinned.
Much to Emma’s relief, Jenny laughed. “You mean those poor children are trying to get away from my onion breath?”
Emma could feel her face growing warm.
“Emma! You, too! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how. I didn’t know the children were having the same trouble, or I might have said something.”I
Jenny picked up her fork and shook it as she spoke. “Well, I know one thing! I have eaten my last raw onion sandwich.”
“Well, ladies,” Al said abruptly, “you ready for some music?”
Jenny’s eyebrows shot up. “Music?”
Emma told her that Al played the accordion, and Jenny clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful! I haven’t heard music for so long, except for our singing at school.” She turned to Emma. “I’ll be glad to do the dishes, if you want to help with the chores.”
Emma nodded. “Thanks! We can get done much faster. When I come in, I’ll bathe the children and we’ll have music!”
“Quite a change from a week ago, huh?” Al called from the other end of the barn as Emma milked Molly.
“I’ve had a lot of prayers answered, but never in a better way than this one. Sure makes me want to keep prayin’!”
Emma didn’t answer. Good thing he feels like praying. He’s going to have to pray for both of us. I better tell him about the fire-starting problem, so he can pray about that.
When Al was working closer to her, she said, “I don’t know how long Jenny will be able to stay, though. She’s having a terrible time getting the fire started at school, and she has to be in that cold room all that while—and then sleep in our cold upstairs besides.”
“Doesn’t she know how to start a fire? Shouldn’t take that long to warm up a schoolroom.”
“Oh, she knows how to start a fire, but there’s hardly any kindling left, and Mr. Schuft says he isn’t bringing any more. She took a few shavings from here, but she can’t carry much. I know there isn’t any money to pay for more wood this year. Mrs. Gross came one morning and threatened to have Jenny fired if that schoolroom wasn’t warm when school started in the morning. If only Grandpa would help her. And he has a whole pile of kindling; I wish he’d give some to the school.”
“He’s not likely to do that. He sure was put out when she moved. Say, maybe that’s what he meant by her having trouble! I never thought of the fire.”
“It would help so much if she could still run over there to the warm house until the fire got going.” She was about to tell Al about Jenny’s prayers but decided not to. It would be just like Al to agree with Jenny that God would change Grandpa’s mind. Then they’d both be disappointed.
“Maybe I better go and talk to Pa tomorrow.”
“I don’t think Jenny would want you to. Besides, I can’t remember anyone ever getting your pa to change his mind.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
When they got back to the house, Jenny not only had the dishes done, but she was just finishing the children’s baths.
A
Eyes riveted on Al’s every move, the children watched him take down the accordion and unlatch it. But when his starting warm-up chords leaped into the air, Fred and Ellie’s attention turned to Albert who crouched, taut as a runner waiting for the starting signal.
As Al began to squeeze out a tune, Albert gave a whoop and sprang into his own version of the polka immediately followed by Fred and Ellie.
Georgie sat on Emma’s lap, transfixed. When Emma laughed at the children’s comical attempts to polka, he swiveled his round-eyed gaze to her face.
“Georgie dance, too,” she shouted in his ear, bouncing him on her knee. He rewarded her with a bare—gummed smile.
When Al switched to a slower tempo, Emma leaned back, closed her eyes, and drank in the soothing melody. Then she opened her eyes and flashed a smile at Jenny.
Jenny smiled back, but it was plain to see she was fighting tears.
Emma pretended not to notice. When she caught Al’s eye, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. Emma replied, with a shrug.
When the tune ended, Al got up, took a drink of water, and put wood in the stove.
Emma leaned toward Jenny. “Are you homesick?” Jenny shook her head and then nodded. “I guess. It’s just that I never . . .”
But before she could finish, Al came back and sat down with his long arm draped over the accordion. “I know I’m not much of a musician,” he said with a chuckle, “but I never made anyone cry before.”
Jenny smiled. “Oh, I like your playing. I really do. It’s just that it’s so—so different. When you said music, I thought of my family gathered around the organ singing hymns.”
“What were some of them?” Emma asked softly.
“Oh, ‘Blessed Assurance, Jesus Is Mine’ and ‘Just As I Am Without One Plea.”
“We know those, don’t we, Al?”
He nodded and tried to play “Blessed Assurance,” but there were so many sour notes they all laughed. “I guess I’ll have to practice that. Let’s just try it without the accordion.” He threw back his head and began to sing. Emma and Jenny joined him with their high, sweet voices, but Jenny ended up singing the second verse alone, because Al and Emma didn’t know all the words.
“I think I know all of ‘Just As I Am’,” Emma said, and took the lead.
When they finished, Al asked, “Do you know ‘Jesus, Lover of My Soul’?”
Jenny began to sing and the others joined her.
The children sat on the floor in rapt attention. Emma smiled at Al, who had noticed Jenny’s radiant face just as she had. I wish this moment could last forever, she thought.
The clock struck eight. “Time for bed, Kinder!”
“Aw ... !” they protested.
“Could we sing ‘Savior, Breathe an Evening Blessing’?” Emma asked. “Do you know it, Jenny?”
Jenny smiled and began softly singing as Al and Emma harmonized.
Now it was Emma’s turn to blink hard as the song ended, and she laid sleeping Georgie in the cradle.
Eyes glowing, Jenny quickly said good night and went upstairs.
“Into bed now!” Al ordered. As the children scampered off, he smiled down at Emma.
She leaned her head on his chest and sighed as his arms enfolded her. “Let’s do that more often,” she whispered.
Sunday, afternoon Emma finished packing A1’s clothes to take back to camp. She glanced at the clock. Only a little over an hour and he’d have to leave again. It seemed as though he had just gotten home. Where had the day gone? Al had
worked in the barn a good share of the time, the boys with him. Jenny had insisted on helping Emma wherever she could.
Emma smiled as she watched Jenny carefully get up from the rocker with baby George in her arms and put him in his cradle.
Ellie tottered out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. “Papa? Papa?”
“Papa’s outside,” Emma assured her, hugging her close and kissing her warm cheek.
When Emma put her down, Jenny whispered, “Would it be all right if I took her for a sleigh ride? There’s hardly any wind.”
“I suppose so. But shouldn’t you stay in with that cough?”
Jenny shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s so nice outside. The boys can come, too.”
Emma bundled Ellie up, and Jenny carried her out and put her on the little wooden sled. She called to the boys, who were chasing each other around the woodshed, and they all started down the road.
“I think Jenny took the children just to give us a little time to talk,” Emma said, when Al came in and sat down to have a cup of coffee.
He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have gone to see Pa today about helping her.”
Emma shook her head. “Wouldn’t have done any good.”
Al chuckled. “You’re right.”
“Do you think Mr. Gross will get the school board riled up about the cold schoolroom?”
Al shrugged. “Wouldn’t take much to get the Schufts to side with them.”
Emma went to get hot coffee.
They were silent a moment; then Emma said, “I feel like I’m walking on eggs—any day she’ll decide it’s too hard and move back to Grandpa’s.”
“No sense worrying,” Al said. He told Emma about the stock and what she should do while he was gone.
All too soon Jenny and the children burst in the door, rosy cheeked and breathless.
Ellie, who had been all smiles, burst into tears when Al put on his coat and shouldered his pack.
While he tried to comfort her, Jenny pulled Emma aside. “I’ll watch the children if you’d like to walk a ways with him.”
“Oh! Yes!” Emma said and went to put on her overshoes and coat.
They walked in silence, Emma dreading the moment when Al would have to go on and she would be left to turn back to the house. “It’ll be pitch dark before you get to the train,” she said.
“That doesn’t bother me. There’ll be four or five of us hiking together before we get to Ogema.” He looked up at the clear sky and the almost full moon. “See! There will be moonlight.”
Emma’s teeth chattered. “It’s getting awfully cold!”
“I’m not cold. You’re just not used to being outdoors like I am.” He put his arm around her. “You’re shivering. You’d better go back now.”
He pulled her close and she clung to him, cheek against his rough wool coat. She lifted her face for his kiss.
“Hurry back in now!” Al said huskily as he released her. He kissed her once more and said, “Go now, Liebchen!”
Emma turned around once. He looked back and called, “Don’t worry!”
All she could hear as she walked was the cold snow squeaking under her feet. At first she thought about Al and how much she loved him, and then her thoughts swung back to her main concern. What will I do if Jenny leaves? There could still be weeks of cold weather. Why doesn’t Grandpa think of helping her? He knows she’s in that cold schoolhouse every morning.
But not once did she consider praying, not even when she went to bed that night.
Fourteen
The Promise of Spring
Monday morning Emma lovingly washed Jenny’s white blouses and black poplin skirt. Earlier that morning she had asked Jenny if she could do any laundry for her.
“I didn’t expect to have laundry service when I came here,” Jenny had said. “But I’d certainly appreciate it. Evenings and Saturdays go so fast.”
“It’s a fair trade,” Emma had replied. “You didn’t expect to take care of the children as much as you do, either.”
When she finished washing the blouses she wrung them in tight little rolls, washed the rest of the white clothes, and then rubbed Jenny’s skirt on the washboard, carefully turning it this way and that. She wrung it, too, and laid it beside the blouses while she fixed the rinse water.
Then she put the blouses back into clean water to be rinsed. Oh, no! Emma couldn’t believe her eyes! Where one blouse had touched the black skirt, there were ugly blue-black marks!
Quickly she put soap on the blouse and swished it in the water, aware that she would have to change the rinse water again. Hardly daring to breathe, she scrubbed the spots. They didn’t budge. She scrubbed as hard as she dared without making a hole in the fabric, but it was no use! If it were summer, she could lay the blouse in the sun, but what could she do now?
Vinegar! I’ll try vinegar. Carefully she laid the spotted section in a dish of vinegar and left it to soak a few minutes. The spots were as dark as ever. She couldn’t think of anything else to try, so she rinsed it in fresh water and hung it up to dry.
Emma finished the laundry, feeling shaky and sick. How would she tell Jenny?
Well, she sighed. There go our pleasant evenings. It could take her till spring to get over this. If only I had been more careful. She could hear her father’s gruff voice. “Saying ‘I’m sorry’ won’t make the corn grow back,” he had said the time she had carelessly left the gate open, and the cows had trampled and torn down rows and rows of corn.
If only Pa had said, “I forgive you. I know you’re sorry,” but he hadn’t. For days he wouldn’t even look at her, much less talk to her. Eventually he had forgotten about it and talked to her, and even joked with her again. But it had taken a long time.
She imagined Jenny tight-lipped and silent all through supper and the rest of the evening.
Anger, so overwhelming it frightened her, welled up inside, and she was glad she was going out to water the stock. “Why,” she demanded of the gray sky, “are there such words as I’m sorry and forgive me if they don’t work?”
One hopeful thought surfaced as she plodded back to the house. Maybe the spots won’t show when the blouse is dry. Spots always show more when cloth is wet.
But the little flame of hope went out like a match by an open door when she got back in the house. The spots were as dark and ugly as ever, though the blouse was nearly dry.
Emma knew Jenny sensed that something was wrong before she had finished her syrup bread. I might as well get it over with, she told herself, as she took the blouse off the clothes rack behind the stove and brought it to Jenny.
“I know it doesn’t help to say I’m sorry, but I am.” Emma’s voice broke.
“How did it happen?” Jenny asked quietly as she examined the spots.
When Emma explained, Jenny said, “It’s funny, I haven’t done that myself. I’ve done so many other stupid things. Don’t feel bad, Emma. I’ll wear it around the house, if you don’t mind looking at the stains.”
Jenny hung the blouse back up to finish drying and began talking to the children as though nothing had happened.
Emma waited, tense-jawed. Surely she’ll suddenly realize that her good blouse is ruined, and then she’ll be angry. Emma had never known anyone not to be angry in a similar situation, not even Al. Although Al didn’t stay sullen like her parents, it always took him a while to get over something she had done wrong.
But instead of ignoring Emma, Jenny put her arm around her shoulders and said, “Come! Sit down a minute. I have something to tell you.”
Jenny’s sparkling eyes banished all Emma’s dread.
When they were settled at the table, Jenny said, “I could hardly wait to tell you. This morning I saw smoke coming out of the chimney before I got to school. I almost ran the rest of the way. Can you believe it—there was Grandpa Verleger stuffing wood in the stove! I could have hugged him!”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “What did he say? Why did he—?”
“He
said he couldn’t stand to think of me in that cold schoolhouse one more morning. And, wait till you hear this! When he discovered there was hardly any kindling left, he went home and got a big arm load of his own and brought it over. He said he’ll bring all I need this year.”
“Emma’s mouth hung open, but Jenny chattered on. “He insisted that I come home with him until the room warmed up. Oh, Emma! Grandma Verleger tried so hard to be pleasant. She poured me a cup of real coffee—she always made barley coffee when I boarded there—and served it in a pretty china cup with roses on it. They didn’t say so, but it was plain to see they missed me.”
Emma shook her head in amazement.
“And that’s not all! Grandpa insisted that he’ll start the fire every morning, so I don’t have to come so early, and I’m to come to their house whenever I want to until the schoolhouse gets warm.”
A Winter's Promise Page 14