The Pilgrim Song, page 17
“That’s right,” Simon said, grinning. “This will be a good thing for us, Winslow. Nobody would suspect you. You keep your mouth shut, and we’ll make a lot of money together.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Dora said.
****
Dora stopped the car a half mile from the Winslow home and said, “You’d better git out here. I don’t want your folks seein’ you ridin’ with me.”
“All right.”
Dora had questioned him as she drove the Chevrolet along the rutted frozen road. As Josh grabbed the door handle, she reached over and pulled him back by the neck. She kissed him full on the lips, holding him there for a moment before releasing him. She was laughing, her eyes gleaming. “You and I could git to be real good friends, Josh.”
Josh didn’t know what to say. He picked up the jug and got out. Josh knew he was moving into dangerous territory, yet he felt there was no turning back. He had gone through a door and locked it behind him. The past seemed tarnished and dull, like a worthless trinket . . . but the future looked just as bad.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A Different Kind of Christmas
As Hannah straightened up, her back gave a twinge. She had been down on her hands and knees scrubbing the upstairs hallway floor. She could not believe how the grime of years had ground itself into the wood. Beginning at one end, she had taken a square foot at a time and scrubbed fiercely with the strongest laundry soap available until the golden color of the heartwood pine came through. Now, as she stood up and looked down at the distance she still had to go, she sighed despondently.
The days of hard, grinding labor such as she had never before experienced had passed until it was now Christmas Eve. She could not differentiate between the days, for they were all alike, passing like the ticking of a clock with no face and no hands. A numbness filled her as she thought about what a grim Christmas it would be.
Slowly she picked up the bucket of filthy water and started downstairs to heat more. Moving down the stairs, a sudden thought flashed into her mind, even as tired as she was. She remembered a stone archway in the church she had attended in New York City. One of the ushers had once told her when he saw her looking at it, “The keystone never sleeps. It holds the others in place.”
The words had stayed with her, and now they brought some sense to what she and her family were going through. Her weariness lately had been crowding out all other thoughts, but now she saw with great clarity that the keystone of their lives had crashed, the arch had fallen, leaving only a group of stones heaped together, where before there had been order and beauty. How can our lives be put back together into something meaningful?
When she reached the kitchen, she found Clint sitting alone at the table drinking coffee. He looked up at her, concern in his eyes. “You’re worn out. Let me get that for you.” He got up and took the bucket from her, opened the outside door, and threw the wash water onto the ground. When he came back in, she reached for it, saying, “I’ve got to go get more.”
“It’ll wait. Sit down and have some coffee.”
Hannah willingly sat. He filled a mug with coffee and put it before her. “One of these days I’m going to have to learn how to harvest some honey. That’ll taste good in our coffee.”
She looked up, surprised. “Can you really do that?”
“I guess so. Jesse Cannon says he’ll teach me.”
“I’d like to come with you. I’ve never seen such a thing.”
“All right.”
The two sat quietly for a time, Hannah remaining even more silent than usual. She was not a woman given to light talk, and Clint had learned over the weeks to admire her stubbornness. He had seen her work when she was so tired she could hardly pick up one foot and put it ahead of the other. He glanced down at her hands now and noticed that they had changed. Once they had been well cared for and soft, but now they were roughened by the strong soap and calloused from the hard work. “The house looks good,” he said. “It’s a fine old place when you get through all the dirt and grime.”
Hannah smiled faintly. “That upstairs hall is a horror. I’ve scrubbed half the morning and haven’t gotten five square feet clean.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let me go over it with a blade of some kind. There’s an old plane out in the barn. I can get the rust off of it, sharpen it, and plane off the grime right down to the wood. It’ll look like new. I’ll have to do a little sanding, but it’ll beat all that scrubbing you’re doing.”
“Oh, but you’ve got enough to do, Clint.”
He did not answer, but she knew him well enough now to know that he would do exactly what he said. He never seemed to tire, or if he did, he never mentioned it. She sipped her coffee and glanced at him. He appeared so solid and alert, the irregularity of his features so masculine. A small smile touched his lips, and she thought it signaled his inner character. It showed the world a serene indifference, yet there was also a sadness in him that she believed indicated he had lost contact with the world and could depend on nobody but himself. As they sat quietly together, she wondered about what truly guided his life. She knew he’d weathered some hard times, but he had survived those years and now used his experiences as a protective armor against the harsh demands of the world. She had ambiguous feelings about him, for she was aware she had fenced off men from her life. She had long ago put away all thoughts of marriage and children. Now she wanted to ask Clint if he had ever loved a woman, but she could not bring herself to do so.
“Stopped snowing,” Clint observed, glancing out the window.
“That’s too bad. I wasn’t sure we’d see snow at all this year, so it’s nice to have a little on Christmas Eve.”
Clint did not miss the sorrow in her eyes. “You look sad,” he said gently.
“I am, in a way. We always had such big celebrations at home, decorating and giving gifts and singing. I don’t mind it so much for myself, but I hate it for Kat.”
Clint stared into his coffee cup, turning it in his big hands. “It’s not too late.”
Hannah shrugged. “We don’t have any money for gifts.”
“Doesn’t take much money.” He smiled at her. “I’ve had quite a few moneyless Christmases. Tell you what. Let’s do it up right.”
“What do you mean, Clint?”
“I mean, there are plenty of trees out there. All we have to do is cut one down and bring it in. We don’t have to have store-bought decorations, do we? We can make our own.” He grew excited at the thought, and it struck her that it took little to make Clint content. This man could take an idea and run with it, and now the idea of having a Christmas celebration brightened his eyes. He straightened up and swept the air with his right hand. “It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s get started.”
Hannah smiled. “All right. What do we do first?”
****
Clint worked like a whirlwind all day, and his enthusiasm carried at least some of the family with him. Joshua had been strangely silent, almost sullen, for the past few weeks. He had disappeared from time to time, borrowing the truck, and Hannah had wondered what he was doing with himself but could not bring herself to ask him. In any case, on this particular day he actually made himself useful by going out with Clint and Kat to hunt for a tree. When they had found the right tree, Josh chopped it down, and he and Clint dragged it back to the house. Josh starting making a frame to hold it upright while Clint took his gun and went out again.
“A bunch of wild turkeys have been beggin’ me to shoot ’em. The pesky varmints will probably disappear today,” he said, grinning.
But he came back two hours later with a huge wild turkey. He tossed it down with a thump on the porch, saying, “I shot it. Someone else can clean it.”
Lewis volunteered to do that messy job, and following Clint’s instructions, Hannah and Jenny baked corn bread for the dressing.
As for Kat, her eyes glowed, she was so excited. She and Clint went out to gather red berries until they had a sackful of them. When they returned, he put her to work threading them on a string with a needle and thread. As for Clint, he directed the making of the corn-bread dressing as if it were a great project. Hannah crumbled the cooled corn bread and transferred it to a mixing bowl while Jenny chopped onions and diced an apple. She added a little oil to the mixture and then added it all to the crumbled corn bread. Hannah added a lightly beaten egg, some broth and salt and pepper, and mixed them all together.
“Now just cover it and set it on the porch till morning. Then we’ll stuff it inside that big old bird I shot, and we’ll have a fine meal tomorrow.”
With preparations for the next day’s festivities completed, the women worked together on the evening meal. By the time it was ready, everyone was hungry, so they ate generous helpings of eggs and ham. Since Clint had fenced in the chickens and built a hen house for them, the family’s egg supply was plentiful. After eating, they popped popcorn and strung this on thread as well.
Lewis had built up a big fire in the living room hearth, and it threw its flickering shadows over the tree. The women sewed the berries and the men the popcorn, and as they finished each string, they draped it over the limbs of the tree.
Clint played the harmonica while they sewed, keeping them entertained with all the Christmas carols he knew. The family joined in singing, and from time to time, Clint would stop playing and would sing along too in his clear baritone voice. Curiously, Hannah asked him, “If you never went to church, how do you know so many Christmas songs?”
“Well, everybody sings them at Christmas. They just stuck in my mind, I guess.”
“Did you have big Christmases when you were growing up, Clint?” Kat asked.
Clint hesitated and dropped his head. “No,” he said softly, “I didn’t.”
Seeing the sadness on the big man’s face, Hannah quickly intervened. “Give us another one, Clint. You play that harmonica so well.”
After the tree was decorated, Clint said, “We ought to make some candy, but I don’t know how to do that.”
Lewis spoke up. “I know how to make taffy.” They all turned to look at him in disbelief, and he shot back with some irritation, “Why is that such a surprise to you?”
“I don’t know, Dad.” Jenny grinned. “I just never knew you could cook anything. How do you make it?”
“First, we have to know if we have the ingredients.” He looked over at Clint.
“We’ve got some molasses, a little sugar, and butter.”
“Great!” Lewis said. “And how about vinegar and baking soda? Do we have either of those?”
Kat was wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Why would you put vinegar in candy?” she said. “I don’t believe that’ll be any good.”
“You just wait,” Lewis promised.
“We have a little, Father,” answered Hannah. “Do you need much?”
“We only need a little of each. Okay then, I’ll take care of the cooking, but then we’ll all have to pull it.”
The women went in to watch their father prepare the candy. He buttered the sides of a large saucepan, then dumped in two cups of sugar, a cup of molasses, and a quarter cup of water. Putting the pan on the stove, he brought the mixture to a boil, stirring it slowly.
After a time he lifted the pan, added two tablespoons of butter, a pinch of soda, and two teaspoons of vinegar, then poured the mixture into a buttered pan. He used a large butcher knife to turn the edges. “All right. Time to pull.”
“What do we do, Daddy?” Kat demanded.
“Well, the first thing you do is put butter all over your hands,” Lewis said as he demonstrated.
Kat laughed. “That’ll be fun.” She buttered her own hands and then ran to get Josh and Clint. The two men came in, and following the example of the others, they greased their hands.
“This is the way you do it,” Lewis said. “You get the taffy up into a ball, and you pull it with your fingertips like this. You keep pulling at it until it’s hard to pull, then you pull each piece into a long strand about an inch and a half thick. Then you cut if off with buttered scissors or a buttered knife. We need to get going. It gets hard quick.”
The kitchen was soon filled with the sound of laughter, for as the taffy hardened, it became harder to pull. It was soon too hard for the women to handle, so the men finished the job, and Lewis said triumphantly, “Now, that’s molasses taffy.”
“That was such fun, Dad!” Jenny exclaimed.
As he looked at his daughter’s glowing face, Lewis thought, It’s the first time she’s looked happy since we left New York. We’ve got to do more things like this.
Finally they went back into the living room and nibbled at the delicious taffy while Lewis said, “You know, I think it’d be a good thing if we read the Christmas story.”
“That’s a fine idea, Father. I’ll go get my Bible.” Hannah jumped up, ran upstairs, and was soon back with Bible in hand. “Here, Father, you read it.”
“No, you read it, Hannah. You’ve got such a good reading voice.”
Hannah hesitated and glanced around, but then settled down on a chair with the Bible on her knees. She began to read the story from the book of Luke, and they all listened attentively.
While Hannah read, Lewis let his eyes run around the room, feeling sad as he looked at his family. He glanced at Josh, who had drawn slightly away from the others, sitting in a shadowed corner, his head averted. A pang of grief caught at Lewis for the loss of his son. Josh was living in his own world, still drinking, though Lewis could not, for the life of him, imagine where Josh was getting the money to buy liquor.
His glance shifted to Jenny, and he was struck again with her beauty. Yet the hard times had changed her. She had lost the vivacity that was once hers. It’s all my fault. I should have had more sense somehow.
His eyes moved to Kat, and here his heart warmed. At least Kat’s happier here than she was in New York, he thought. I’m glad of that.
He observed Clint sitting back, his hands laced together, watching Hannah’s face intently. I don’t know what we would have done without Clint. He’s been our lifeline, and I don’t know what we’d do if he left. We’d all sink. Thank you, God, for sending him to take care of us.
Finally his eyes rested on Hannah, and as she continued to read the Christmas story, Lewis wondered, not for the first time, what was to become of his oldest daughter. She had been an enigma for years. She should be married now with children, but she’s never again talked about men since breaking up with Preston. I don’t know what went wrong there, but it must have hurt her deeply.
The soft sound of Hannah’s voice filled the room, and the fire added soft poppings and groanings as the logs settled. Outside, the world was nearly frozen, but inside they felt warm and comfortable. Yet, as Hannah read, everyone in the room was wondering, What will we do? How will we survive?
When Hannah completed the reading, she closed the Bible and said, “That’s a beautiful story, isn’t it?”
Everyone just nodded, except for Kat, who said, “I bet this house is nicer than the stable Jesus was in.”
She was sitting beside Lewis, and he reached over and put his arm around her, saying huskily, “Yes, it is, and I’m thankful that He made a place for us here.”
His words warmed Hannah’s heart, and she smiled. She was proud of her father. His emotions had been going downhill, but now, at least for this one moment, the Winslows were together and he seemed happier. Her eyes lifted, and she met Clint’s gaze. He smiled at her and nodded, and then the wind outside rose into a keening whine.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” Clint said. “We’ll have to hang those stockings on the mantel.”
It had been Clint’s idea to do this, and Hannah knew he had some scheme in mind. He had asked each person to provide a stocking, and as Clint fastened them with tacks to the mantel, she said, “You think Santa Claus will come?”
“Yes, I think he will.”
****
The next morning everyone’s stocking was bulging with nuts, hard candy, an apple, and an orange. In Kat’s stocking she was delighted to find a fine new pocketknife. Her eyes glowed. She knew that Santa Claus had not brought this, but she played the game. “Santa brought me exactly what I wanted.”
Hannah was standing back with Clint. “Where did you get that?” she whispered.
“Picked it up at the store a week ago.”
Hannah was filled with pleasure. “That was so kind of you.”
Clint turned and looked down at Hannah, his smile lightening his whole countenance. “Children need Christmas,” he said quietly.
Kat went over to Clint and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a good knife, Clint. I’ll keep it always.”
“Always is a long time,” he said, pleased that he’d brought some joy into her young life.
“I don’t care,” Kat said. “I’ll give it to my little boy when he’s my age, and I’ll tell him about this first Christmas in Georgia.”
“You’re making pretty long-range plans,” Hannah said with a smile. “The Bible says, ‘Take therefore no thought for the morrow.’ ”
But Kat ignored her sister’s admonishment. “Play that pilgrim song, Clint.”
“Now? But it’s not a Christmas song.”
“It is in a way,” Kat insisted. “We’re all pilgrims, and one day we’ll have a big Christmas in heaven—with Jesus there!”
Hannah felt tears rise to her eyes at this simple thought, and as Clint brought out his harmonica, she sang with Kat the words that had come to mean so much to her:
“I am a pilgrim and a stranger,
Traveling through this world below;
There is no sickness, toil nor danger,
In that bright world to which I go. . . .”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Trouble at School
“I don’t want to go to school, Daddy.”
Lewis had stopped the truck and was preparing to get out when he heard Kat’s plaintive cry. He turned to look at her and saw that her face was tight with apprehension. He reached over and drew her close. “You’ve got to go to school, honey, you know that. And you’ll make a lot of friends here.”
