Authors: Leisha Kelly
When it was Franky and our family alone, I read
Hamlet
or
In His Steps
, and Franky liked them both. He listened to
Hamlet
as though he were sifting for any insight he could hold and put to use, and to
In His Steps
as though he were taking in manna from heaven. One day he would ask for one book, and the next day the other. I wondered how he could keep either story straight in his head that way.
Samuel told me that although George was in no way cheerful, at least he was causing no real problems. Things were as normal as they could be for the times we were in. Along with everyone else in the country, we set the clocks an hour ahead for the duration of the war to save evening daylight.
Sarah didn’t like me listening to the news. She said Robert thought it would make me worry. But I wanted to know what was happening. I’d turn the radio on myself if no one else did. And I thanked God repeatedly that it stayed working the rest of that winter.
When the weather warmed, we planted the garden as early as we could. Emmie was pleased to call our gardens “victories” and promised to tend them faithfully, glad for the knowledge that everything we produced could mean more “store food” could be shipped to her brothers overseas. The radio quit working again in the first week of April, and by that time letters from Joe had stopped. Kirk’s had never started up again, and Robert and William had begun specific preparations for their roles overseas. As the sun continued to chase away the last chill of winter, something cold settled over my heart. I tried to fight it. Most of the time I denied it. But dread closed over me like a cloud. And I feared we’d never go back to the way we were.
I’d never heard anything quite like that Charles Sheldon book Mrs. Wortham read to me. I liked it better than Hamlet because to my mind there was no denying it had more purpose. Shakespeare maybe liked to make people think about life and human nature, but Sheldon had the most practical, simple lesson on how to live godly that I ever heard. I went and told the pastor he oughta recommend that book to the whole congregation. It sure got me thinking. Was I doing what Jesus would do? What ought I be doing different?
About the first of April, Pa asked me if Harry was gettin’ old enough to take care of things on the farm. The question made me shake my head. There didn’t seem to be no reason for it.
“Not by his own self,” I said. “But there ain’t no need a’ that anyway. You an’ me an’ Bert an’ Rorey’ll all take a hand.”
“You got the wood shop,” he argued. “An’ you ain’t no good in my fields.”
I knew I wasn’t the fastest worker in the world. But I did what I could the best I knew how, so I didn’t figure he oughta have a real problem with that. But I didn’t answer him back about it. “Pa, I plan on helpin’ in the fields an’ keepin’ up the orders too. There ain’t been all that many orders to worry about.”
But Pa seemed to think I had my head so full that I wasn’t gonna be much help. I’d been bringin’ some of the wood projects home to work on at night and spendin’ less time gone, hoping Pa would see I was serious about being available while Joe and Kirk and Willy were gone. Wasn’t that what was needed? But Pa wasn’t comforted on that at all, even when I tol’ him I was using my Hardwoods money to pay the Farm Service for our order of spring seed.
Maybe to my pa it just seemed out of the ordinary to have me around so much more. He hadn’t been happy over the winter, that was sure, but he’d seemed to get better, and I could thank the Lord for no more ugly bouts of drinkin’ like that first night.
Two of our sows’d had big litters, and Marabelle the cow had a fine-lookin’ calf. Pa seemed to cheer up at those things, like he did every spring. So I started thinkin’ maybe his winter mulligrubs wasn’t so much more than usual. His complainin’ hadn’t been too awful bad, an’ he was a lot better in the sunshine.
It didn’t seem to worry him much about not hearin’ from Kirk or Joe in a while. He said Kirk didn’t like writin’ anyway, and Joe’d be awful busy off in the Pacific with men under him needin’ his attention for a few more months. Besides, the pastor said mail could be awful slow over such a distance, and maybe they couldn’t even send mail out for a while, just to keep their positions a secret if a move against the enemy was comin’. Pa didn’t let it bother him. One of Joe’s letters had said he should be comin’ home in July, and we were all glad about that.
I decided to stop and think about things a little differently. Harry and Bert were both near as big as me anymore. And strong too. They could do what the farm needed with Pa’s help until Joe got home. I didn’t much question that. It was getting warmer. Mr. Wortham and I had already talked on what we’d plant in which field in which order an’ how soon. If I could just help him an’ Pa get the seed in the ground, they wouldn’t need me so much after that.
The feelings I’d put down in January came back at me again, and I thought that if Jesus was in my shoes, maybe he’d want to go a world away and help our soldiers too.
I told myself that, but I still felt a little funny to borrow Mr. Wortham’s truck to go and visit the recruiters when they come to town again. I didn’t tell Mrs. Wortham nor Pa and the kids what I was doing, figurin’ there was no use gettin’ them excited ahead if I couldn’t go.
It was the marines I’d talked to with Robert and Willy before, because Willy’d seen a poster of the marines and decided that was for him. This time I searched out the army recruiter. I knew they wouldn’t call on me for a draft like they had Kirk and some others I knew, but I figured that if I volunteered myself maybe they’d consider what I had to say an’ let me sign up. I still wanted to go. Seemed like Harry an’ Bert were old enough to manage fine. Rorey too. And before long, Joe might be home. They’d be all right if I was gone. Pa seemed like he might already be all right. They didn’t need me as much as I’d thought. What good was I doing anybody, makin’ wood things? I oughta serve, if I could get the chance. But there was nobody who’d listen to what I had to say. I left Dearing feeling awful discouraged and kind of stupid for tryin’ again. I shoulda saved myself the trouble. The army man turned me away.
“I can drive,” I told him. “I can operate a radio or somethin’.”
But he just shook his head. So I went to the navy recruiter, and he said he was sorry but I oughta just do whatever I could to help the war effort at home.
It was a bother being rejected again. But worse than that was wondering why I’d felt so strongly that I oughta try. How could I be so wrong? Was I just deceiving myself to get out of shoulderin’ things at home? Sometimes I thought that if I could be in the service and do as well as Joe had, maybe Pa would think more of me. Maybe even the Turreys would find a little respect. But I knew enough to understand that that kind of thinkin’ was vain. It didn’t matter what any man thought of me. Only what God thought.
So I must have had it wrong. If Jesus was in my shoes, maybe he’d want to stay right here and do what he could for my family. That thinkin’ made me feel bad that I’d come into town at all. With three brothers gone, I shouldn’t want to be leavin’. I should have the right kind of heart for my brothers and sisters. Why was I tryin’ to get away from things?
I didn’t like my mind going two ways like this. A preacher named Cuyler wrote that God always has a helping angel for those who are willing to do their duty. I remembered Pastor tellin’ me that once. An’ I was always willing to take on whatever duty I could. To my country now especially. But maybe I was just kiddin’ myself and lettin’ my pride get in the way of the practical.
Pastor also said once to do the duty that lies nearest thee. An’ that had to be farm an’ family. I’d be blind not to see that. Harry and Bert were still young, and they had school this spring to think about. An’ Joe’d need a break come summer, not a ton a’ hard work waitin’ for him when he got home.
I didn’t want to despise God nor his helpin’ angel by scornin’ the obvious. So I prayed for peace about it all. I prayed to be happy at home. But my feelings stayed as mixed up as before. I was glad Pa seemed to be doin’ all right. I just couldn’t figure out why I was such a mess.
April 30, 1942
Dear Robert,
Mr. Thomas from the school board came to talk to Mom and Dad last evening. Katie and I were nervous when we saw him coming, but he didn’t have any complaint against us. I could hardly believe it, but he said they’re wanting to graduate Katie, Rorey, and me, along with Eugene Turrey and Joshua Mueller, this year instead of next. I didn’t know what to say.
They can’t afford to add on to the school, so it’ll still be one room, and they can’t afford to bus any of us into the Dearing school either. So with us graduated, Miss Aimsley won’t have the top graders to think about, and the school will be less crowded. That was the school board decision. Mr.
Thomas said they figured we were ready anyway, and with the war on we’d probably be needed somewhere else.
I’d like to feel ready to be an adult at sixteen, but I don’t,
Robby. And imagine how Katie feels! She’s five months younger and started school a year later than I did. We both thought we’d have another year. Katie thought she might have two.
Rorey didn’t go to school today. Neither did Eugene Turrey.
Emmie says Rorey doesn’t want to bother with school now since we know they’re going to graduate us anyway. She’s going to start looking for work right away. But Mom and Dad want Katie and I to go as long as we can, and I’m glad. I don’t want to look for outside work yet. I want to be home to help get the rest of the crops planted, and you know there’s plenty of work right here for the summer too, plus harvest in the fall. I figure the more I can do, the less left on Dad, and he’ll have more time for the wood shop.
They just finished a rocking chair, and I think it’s the nicest one yet. Frank made a couple of wall plaques that are so pretty I wish I had the money to buy them myself. Eagles, carved so nice the feathers look almost real. I wish you could see.
The cuckoo clock sung out all of a sudden, and I set the paper and pencil back in my stationery box. I was just writing Robert a quick note after getting the laundry in off the line, and could finish the letter later. Mom would appreciate it if I took a bowl and gathered in some greens for supper.
Harry had come over after school to help Dad and Frank seed the field north of our house. I could see them from where I got started picking lamb’s-quarter. I wondered about my brother and what he’d be eating tonight. I hoped they fed him good at his training camp.
Filling my bowl with lamb’s-quarter, dock, dandelion, and a little winter cress took longer than I expected. I rinsed my pickings at the well, glad there were things growing in our yard to forage while we were waiting for the garden vegetables.
Once the greens were ready to cook, I mixed up some muffins while Mom fried potatoes and opened a home-canned jar of pork tenderloin. Katie set the table and got some jam from the cellar. Pretty soon the muffins were in the oven, and Mom asked me to go out and get some winter onions to set on the table. They hadn’t seeded yet, so they were so good right now.
Dad and Frank and Harry came up from the field while I was still by the garden. Harry was kidding Frank about not being able to hear them call while he was working. Mom had said once that Frank thinks so deep sometimes, especially when he’s working, that he doesn’t hear anything outside his own head. She said it was a gift. But Harry didn’t seem to think so. He said they should have just left him in the field all night to see if he ever noticed that he hadn’t had his supper.
Frank was pretty good-natured about the ribbing. “It’s better not hearing when you work than not working when you hear,” he teased right back. “Good thing the birds quit singin’, Harry, or you’d a’ never got the job done.”
Harry smiled. I joined them with the onions in my hand as they went walking to the house. Harry seemed happy for Frank to return his teasing. Harry loved to joke around, and he was always glad whenever anyone in his family joined in, which didn’t happen very often.
But Frank wasn’t joking for long. “I was thinkin’ about that fella named Beethoven,” he said suddenly. “He could write music when he was deaf as a post. And if he could do that, seems like anybody else could do most anythin’ they set their mind on, you know?”
Harry looked at him sideways. “You’re the strangest fella I know. Who said anythin’ about a deaf man writin’ music?”
“Mrs. Post did, after Emmie’s choir practice last Sunday. She said it should be an inspiration to persevere daily, and I think it is.”
“How come?” Harry asked, giving him a funny look. “You don’t write music. You’re not even deaf. At least not all the time.”
“Everybody’s somethin’,” Frank said with a sigh. “I guess I’m a couple a’ things, maybe. Whatever anybody’d wish to call it.”
“Half lame and illiterate. That’s what you call it,” Harry said immediately, though he didn’t sound mean. “You think you could do most anythin’, huh? You want to race me to the porch?”
Frank smiled. “I’ll race you tomorrow to see who can get the most work done.”
Dad laughed a little. I could tell he was glad they were getting along. It hadn’t always been that way. There’d been times when Frank didn’t get much consideration out of his brothers, except maybe Sam or Joe.
The sky was getting gray, and a stiff breeze started blowing. But it’d been so warm today that it felt good. I figured it’d rain overnight, and we sure needed it. Harry said something about looking forward to my Mom’s cooking tonight instead of Rorey’s. And then I heard something off a ways. Somebody was running through the timber. But there was no way we could have expected what we heard then.
Screaming. Emma Grace was somewhere in the trees, screaming and yelling for Frank and Mom and Dad and Harry. We all started running. I couldn’t imagine what in the world could be wrong. She ran out of the timber straight toward our garden. She was yelling so loud Mom came running out of the house right away.