by Janette Oke
Uncle Nat spent most of the evening with Aunt Lou and that left me pretty much on my own. About the only thing I had to do was to answer the door. Already word had gotten around about Aunt Lou losing her baby, and pies and cakes and casseroles began to arrive at the house along with the condolences of the people of the parish. Even some of those who didn't go to church stopped by with a batch of cookies or a chicken pie and expressed their sorrow.
I was glad when I could finally shut the door, extinguish the light against more callers and go to my room. I was exhausted. I hadn't had much sleep the night before, and it had been a long and difficult day.
I must have gone to sleep fairly quickly. At least I don't recall laying and thinking none. I didn't want to think. And I sure didn't want to pray. I couldn't see much reason to keep on trying to be friends with a God who wouldn't care for His own.
CHAPTER 22
Adjustments
Somehow we got through the next few days. People came and went. The menfolk lined the small coffin with a soft blanket, and a service was held in the church with family members, parishioners, and many neighbors and town people. I'm sure it must have been especially hard for Uncle Nat, conducting the funeral for his own firstborn.
Aunt Lou was unable to attend the service, so Grandpa stayed home with her. I don't know what words he could say for comfort, but then maybe she didn't want words. When I walked by the door and glanced in, Grandpa was just sitting there by the bed, holding tight to Aunt Lou's hand.
I went back to school. The girls talked in hushed whispers as I walked by, and it angered me rather than bringing any solace. I wondered just what they knew about grief, and if they had ever lost someone that they had looked forward to seeing for so many months.
At home, the door to the little room known as the nursery was closed. I hurried every time I needed to pass it. Aunt Lou didn't. I saw her almost stop many times, as though to listen for the crying of a baby or the even breathing of a sleeping child. I wondered if she ever slipped in there when she was all alone and handled the tiny garments or straightened the quilt on the baby bed.
School was soon out for the summer and I was glad. A change of routine sounded good to me.
Under usual circumstances I would have gone right out to the farm. But Aunt Lou was just beginning to get back on her feet again, and Grandpa felt I should stay around for a few more days to help her.
I didn't mind helping Aunt Lou, but I sure missed the farm. The open fields with wild strawberry patches, the crik with its fish holes, the clear, clean sky-all seemed to call to me. I needed to get away from town, I needed to get away from the little parsonage, I needed to get away from people. I would even have gotten away from myself if I could have thought of any way to do so.
There was no use fretting about it, so I just settled in and tried to make myself as useful to Aunt Lou as I could. She was getting stronger. She was even up and about in her kitchen. We still wouldn't let her out in her garden though, so I kept the weeds out the best that I could.
One day I went to the grocery store for Aunt Lou and nearly ran into Camellia on my way out. I could feel the red creeping slowly into my face and couldn't think of one thing to say to her, but she seemed composed enough. In fact, she even stopped and gave me one of her special smiles.
"Hello, Joshua;' she said kindly. "How is your Aunt Lou?"
She sounded like she really cared, so I nervously shifted my package to my other hand and stopped to answer.
"She's getting lots better, thank you. She is even up now."
"Good;' she said and then gave me another nice smile.
I looked around. I guess I expected Jack Berry to be lurking somewhere close at hand.
I was about to turn and go on my way when Camellia stopped me again.
"Would you care for some ice cream, Joshua?" she asked. Coming from anyone other than Camellia I would have considered that a pretty dumb question. Of course I liked ice cream.
"Papa gave me some money for a treat;' Camellia went on, "and I do hate to eat all alone:"
"Sure;' I said, shuffling a bit awkwardly. "I'll have some with you"
I stopped thinking about Jack Berry. He really wasn't worth worrying about anyway.
We walked together to the sweet shop, and I held the door for Camellia. We settled ourselves at the counter on one of the high stools and gave our order. Vanilla for Camellia, chocolate for me.
Of course I had no intention of letting Camellia pay, and I was thankful that before leaving the house I'd had the good foresight to drop some coins into my Levi's.
"I suppose you've heard I am no longer seeing Jack," Camellia said casually. My head jerked up. She was looking down demurely and her lashes laid dark and soft upon her cheeks. I had almost forgotten just how pretty Camellia was.
I shook my head that no, I hadn't heard that.
"Well, it's true;' she continued. "He was just so dull. Papa never could endure him. Papa just detests a person with no wits, and Jack was certainly witless."
I couldn't have agreed more, but I didn't say so.
"Papa says he thinks that Jack has chalk dust where his brains should be;' Camellia laughed. "He was just so boring. He couldn't reason a thing out for himself. Why, he couldn't even follow the thinking of a person who could reason. He never will make anything of himself"
She shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "So he has gone off to the big city. He said he's going to find a job and make all kinds of money and then I'll be sorry" She laughed again as though she found that hard to believe.
I sat there, not saying anything. I hated Jack Berry. Yet somehow it didn't seem right that Camellia, who had supposedly liked him, sat there and said such harsh things about him. But I pushed it all from my mind. What did I care about what had happened between Camellia and Jack, anyway? I looked at Camellia. She was as pretty as ever. Maybe even prettier.
She turned to me and said, "So what have you been doing, Joshua?"
I shifted nervously. "Oh, dunno. Nothin' much, I guess. Been helpin' Aunt Lou"
"I thought you might be at the farm;' she commented.
"I will any day now. Grandpa thought I should stay a few more days till Aunt Lou gets a bit more of her strength back:'
Our ice cream arrived-which I paid for-and we took a few bites before Camellia turned those blue eyes on me again.
"I've missed you, Joshua;" she said softly and I nearly choked on my spoon. "Mama has missed you, too," she hurried on. "She has always said that you are the nicest and the bravest boy she knows"
I thought that that was awfully kind of her mother. I took another spoonful of ice cream so I wouldn't be expected to say anything.
`And Mama keeps telling Papa that being a preacher really isn't that bad;' Camellia added.
"I've kinda changed my mind on that;' I said rather slowly. "I don't think I want to be a preacher after all"
Camellia's face lit up.
"You don't?"
"Naw. I kinda got to thinkin' that I might like to be a lawyer. Or a university professor, maybe. I don't know for sure yet."
Camellia was giving me her biggest smile, her lashes fluttering as she did so. I knew she was pleased with my new direction in life.
I finished my ice cream and suddenly remembered why I had been sent up town.
"I've gotta get;' I said. `Aunt Lou's waiting for this yeast:'
I gathered my package and my cap and prepared to take my leave.
"Thank you, Joshua, for the ice cream;' Camellia said, and then added so softly that only I could hear her words, "You're welcome to come overany time."
I blushed and rushed from the sweet shop, sure that everyone must be staring after me. I glanced back at Camellia from the door. She was still sitting on the high stool, rhythmically swinging her legs back and forth. She gave me another of her smiles and then I was gone.
I was about to place the package on the kitchen table and run back outside but Aunt Lou stopped me.
"I have some fresh cookies,
Josh. Would you like some?"
Now, normally I would not turn down such an offer. Aunt Lou prided herself on her cookies and I liked them, too, but I'd just had me a dish of ice cream. Still, I didn't want to refuse her, so I grinned, said, "Sure;' and threw my cap in the corner.
Pixie always insisted on sharing my cookie time. I didn't object but held her close and fed her little broken-off nibbles now and then. These were the first cookies Aunt Lou had baked since-since she had been sick, and they sure did taste good all right.
"They're great," I enthused to Aunt Lou around the cookie that was in my mouth.
"I'm glad you like them," she answered and sat down in the chair next to me at the table. "Maybe now I'll be able to bake regularly again."
I sure was not blaming her for not keeping up with the baking, and I wanted to tell her so. But I didn't know quite how to say it, so I just reached for another cookie and fed Pixie another nibble before I popped the rest into my mouth.
"I haven't really talked to you about the baby, have I, Josh?" Aunt Lou said then, and I looked up, hoping that she wouldn't want to talk about her even now.
"You didn't even see her, did you?"
I shook my head. I'd had no desire to see Aunt Lou's baby.
"She was so tiny. So tiny. Why, she was almost lost in her nightie and blanket."
I could tell by Aunt Lou's voice that the memory of her little baby was both painful and pleasureful to her.
"We were wrong about her birthing time, Josh;' Aunt Lou went on quickly. "She was full term"
My head came up then and I looked directly at Aunt Lou.
"Then why did she-?" I stopped short. I just couldn't say the word "die.
"Why did she die? Because she had some terrible deformities. You see, we didn't know it at the time, but Doc says now that I was already expecting the baby when I had the measles. You remember the measles, Josh? Well, measles can be bad for babies in the first few months-I mean, if the mother gets them. It can cause abnormalities-serious ones. We haven't talked much about it to folks because we don't want the Smiths to feel bad that I caught the measles while helping them. I didn't know about the baby then, or I would have stayed away."
I just sat there letting Pixie lick the crumbs of cookies from my fingers.
"Every day I thank God that He took our baby home to be with Him;' Aunt Lou continued, and tears filled her eyes now. "Every day."
Aunt Lou is thankful that her baby died? I couldn't believe it.
"But-but I heard you;' I stated rather sharply. "I heard you that night. You said, `Please, God, no'"
"Yes, I did;' agreed Aunt Lou, and even though she was seated with me at the table, she somehow seemed far away. "My faith was small, josh. I admit that to my shame. When I saw the baby and was afraid that she would live with her handicaps-her deformities-I said, `Please, God, no'-not because I was afraid she might die, but because I was afraid she might live. Josh, I know that you won't understand this, and I'm ashamed to tell it, but I-I cried out to God to take her. I was wrong, josh. I shouldn't have done that. I should have been willing to accept from God whatever was right for us and our baby."
The tears were running freely down Aunt Lou's face now. I'm not sure, but there might have been some on my cheeks as well.
"I did pray for the strength to accept God's will-later;' went on Aunt Lou. "And I was finally able to honestly say, `Thy will be done' In just a few minutes after I uttered the prayer, God took her to be with Him'"
I couldn't understand it. Not any of it.
I am so thankful. So very thankful. Not for my sake, but for hers. Our baby is perfect now. She is no longer deformed. She will never be teased or tormented or made fun of. She will never suffer because of her handicaps or need to endure surgeries or painful hours. I do thank God for taking her''
I had eaten as many of Aunt Lou's fresh cookies as I could hold, so I just sat there ruffling the fur on the back of Pixie's neck.
"If she had lived, josh, I would have found a way to thank God for that, too. I think that's some of the meaning in the word `grace' The Lord gives His grace to take what comes with thanks and faith. Do you understand that?"
I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything.
"We called her Amanda, the name you had picked. Did you know?"
I did. I had heard.
"It hasn't been easy," Aunt Lou confided, "but I am glad to have a little jewel in heaven. Amanda. Amanda Joy. She did bring joy, even during the months we were planning and preparing for her. And it brings us joy to know she is safely in heaven, too''
Aunt Lou stood up and brushed away the last trace of tears with her apron.
"I know this has been hard for you, too, Josh;' she said. "Why, you wanted that baby'most as much as Nat and me. It's hard to give her up, I know that Josh, but we can be glad she is safe and loved and cared for by God himself." There was a brief pause, "And as soon as I am completely well and strong again, we are going to have another baby. We won't need to worry about the measles this time-that's over now. I know it seems like a long time to wait, but the months go quickly and before you know it, you'll have that little cousin you've been wanting:"
Aunt Lou reached out and ruffled my hair, her smile back.
"We'll make it, Joshua," she said. "With God's help, we'll all make it"
I got up to go. I had wood to split and haul. I was glad, too, to be out of the kitchen.
I was really confused now. We had lost our baby-our Amanda Joy, but Aunt Lou said she thanked God every day for His mercy in taking her. How could I have known that God-in His will-had been answering Aunt Lou's prayer when He took Amanda Joy to heaven?
But I was still upset about Uncle Nat being away. If God wanted to care for Aunt Lou, He could have had Old Sam get sick at a different time-or the baby born earlier or later or something. There was no reason Aunt Lou should have been left to face the delivery of a severely deformed child, then the loss of it, all alone. Surely God could have worked things out much better than that.
I was really confused, but my anger still hadn't left me.
CHAPTER 23
Picking Up the Pieces
I visited Camellia once before I left town for the summer. I'm not sure how I felt about the visit. It was fun to sit and read books and chat about ideas again. It was great to be able to handle some of the interesting, colorful texts from Mr. Foggelson's library. It was good to see Mrs. Foggelson and get her pleasant smile of approval. I even enjoyed the tea and pastries-sort of-but all the time I was there I had this funny, nagging feeling deep down inside that I wasn't doing the right thing. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away.
Mr. Foggelson sort of hung around for awhile talking about good books and showing me special pages that I should read. He even read a few paragraphs from a history book aloud to me to be sure I wouldn't miss them. Then he talked about the passages, asking me what I thought about this idea or that concept. I tried to answer the best I could, but some of them were things I had never heard of before.
I think Camellia and I were both glad when he finally left us on our own. Camellia told me over and over how "dull" she had found Jack Berry and how much she had missed my visits. I almost got to believing her. I did wonder why it had taken her so long to discover the fact of Jack's "dullness," but I didn't say so.
I still wasn't much taken with talk about Jack Berry. I hadn't forgotten what he'd done to me. It was my right to feel pretty strongly about him, and I managed to keep quite a "hate" for him going.
In fact, whenever I wanted to spend some time feeling sorry for myself or getting mad about something, all I had to do was think of Jack Berry. I would let that little voice play over and over in my mind, Jack Berry, Jack Berry, and then I would think of the fist coming at me in the dark and the taste of blood and the sting of knuckle cuts and I would lather up real bitter feelings. Actually, I kind of enjoyed it. I must have-I did it often enough. It was the first time in my life that I had a really good excuse to get mad at
the world.
Oh, I had been mad or upset about things in the past to be sure, but always I listened to this little voice saying, josh, this isn't right. You're not as bad off as you pretend to be. But when it came to Jack Berry nearly killing me, I felt I had real good reason to nurse my anger.
Well, I only got that one chance to go over to Camellia's house and then Aunt Lou announced that she was feeling well enough that I should go on out to the farm like I usually did. She knew how much I missed it. Grandpa promised her that we'd slip into town every few days and see that she wasn't wanting for anything. Uncle Nat said that he'd see to it that she didn't do any water hauling or hoeing in her garden for a while yet, and I set off for the farm, anxious to get back to the familiar surroundings of green fields and wooded pastures.
Pixie was almost as glad to be back as I was. She spent the first ten minutes running round and round in circles and the next ten minutes checking out everything around to make sure it was just the same as when we had left it.
We all laughed at her, but I knew just how she felt. I was a little anxious to do some checking on my own, as well.
The place where I was heading was the crik, but I didn't want to appear too eager-just up and run for it the minute I got in the yard. But my family knew me well. I had just put my things in my room and returned to the kitchen when Grandpa turned to me.
"You suppose you might be able to catch us a fish or two for our supper, Boy?" he asked. I grinned and nodded.
"Hear they've been biting pretty good;' added Uncle Charlie.
"What about my chores?" I asked.
"Reckon we can handle things for 'nother day," Grandpa assured me. "Catchin' us our supper will be your job for today."
"If you get some big ones;' said Gramps with a wink, "then I'll go with you tomorrow."
So I was soon off to the crik.
My family must have known I needed this trip-and alone. I'd always enjoyed the company of Gramps. I would look forward to having him go with me on any of the days throughout the summer-except this one day. After so many things had happened, tearing me all up inside and confusing my thinking, I felt that my head was spinning. This day I needed to be alone.