Christmas Angels, page 10
Concern darkened my cousin's eyes. "What should we do?"
"I don't know." Be brave and carry on? How could that help? In that moment, I felt my first flash of anger towards my father.
"So many people love us, Annie. They won't let us freeze to death."
"I hope you're right."
After I crawled into bed that night, all I thought about was my family's future without Popo. I knew people went to the poorhouse if they couldn't pay their bills. I vividly recalled seeing the poorhouse at the edge of town on our trips to Aunt Rachel and Uncle Maddy's farm. It even spooked Old Barney. Whenever we passed, Gus had to get out of the buggy and walk Old Barney past that creepy place, while Cory walked beside the horse, blocking his view. I didn't blame Old Barney... I turned my head away, too. I thought about what Gem had said… that Popo would come back... but I didn't believe her anymore.
After school the next afternoon, I found Mother in the kitchen, preparing supper.
"Where's Charlie?"
"He stopped over at Bernard's house. His mother brought home a bushel of old apples from the Little Palmer House. She said they weren't much good, but Cooter and Old Barney would like them. Charlie was helping Bernard feed some to Cooter. They'll be here soon."
"And that hungry goat of ours… I'm sure she'll get her share. She'll eat everything, including the basket, if they let her. Be sure to thank Mrs. Thompson the next time you see her."
I hadn't laid eyes on Mrs. Thompson in months, and I didn't recall her ever stopping by to thank Mother for feeding Bernard.
"Okay." I knew I wouldn't bother.
"Is Gem home?" Mother asked. "I didn't hear her come in."
"I saw her walking with Fred a while ago. They were walking slowly."
Enjoying my rare one-on-one time with Mother, I climbed up on a stool to watch her work. The kitchen was Mother's natural domain. Without a misstep or an unnecessary movement, she glided along that well-worn path between her stove, the cupboards, and the table, pulling out whatever she needed as she prepared the food.
I spotted two jars of spinach on the counter. "Are we having a spinach ring tonight?" I asked. Mother made a spinach ring by piling buttery mashed potatoes into the center of a platter and placing spinach all around the potatoes. Popo loved Mother's spinach rings, but I didn't dare say that.
"Yes, I couldn't face another pot of beans tonight." I spied a bowl covered with a cheesecloth on top of the Frigidaire, the place she set beans to soak overnight. We'd eat bean soup for supper tomorrow night.
"I've got biscuits ready to go in the oven. The boys will have to fill up on those."
"I don't think they'll mind."
"What do you think? Should I serve grape jam or apple butter with the biscuits?"
"Both."
She nodded. "Both it is."
After dropping the last potato into her pot and placing it on the stove to boil, she turned to me. "Anna, I almost forgot. There's a letter for you on my desk."
"Who's it from?" I asked.
"I believe it's from Laura Beall. You'll have to go see for yourself."
I jumped down from my perch and ran into the parlor. I found an envelope with my name written across it in fancy script lettering. The flap of the envelope bore a red wax seal with the image of a train engine pressed into it.
I hadn't seen Laura Beall since our tea party, that day I'd sat as a guest at her table and told her my troubles and cried my eyes out. With each passing day, I felt my cloak of indifference regarding my father gathering around me as I allowed my curiosity about the mysterious Laura Beall to distract me from the reality of his continued absence.
I slipped a finger under the wax seal, opened the envelope, and removed a sheet of Miss Beall's engraved stationery. It read:
***
Dear Miss Ghere,
I enjoyed our visit over tea the other afternoon. The cookies your mother baked were delicious, just as you said they would be. Thank you again for your kindness and please thank your mother for me.
Would you be willing to run an errand for me? I don't want to impose on your time, but it would certainly help me a great deal. I will be out-of-town tomorrow and Friday, as I have urgent business in Delphi that I must tend to. If you are available, please come to my house at nine o'clock on Saturday for instructions? I hope to see you then.
Sincerely,
Laura Beall
P.S. I also wish to return your mother's plate.
***
I re-read the letter. Saturday was three whole days away. I could hardly wait.
"Is the letter from Miss Beall?" Mother was standing in the doorway, wiping her wet hands on her apron.
I nodded. Then I read it to her, unable to hide my excitement at having another opportunity to see the woman who lived in the big Victorian house on the corner.
Our Saturday meeting marked the beginning of a business relationship between Miss Beall and me. Once or twice a week, I helped her by picking up groceries from the market or paying one of her utility bills in the public square. I loved picking up items she'd ordered from Thrasher's Department Store. The sheet music that came regularly fascinated me.
I did all the errands for her alone. No Charlie, no Gem, and no Pauline or Helen to distract me. I walked alone with my thoughts. I grew to love the time I spent in the brisk autumn air, often thinking about absolutely nothing.
Laura Beall paid me a nickel or dime for each errand I ran for her. Before long, I had a handful of coins I kept hidden away in the shoebox in my bureau drawer with my silver half-dollar.
One Saturday after I returned from Miss Beall's, I saw Gus sitting on his bed, counting the coins from his canvas sack. I stood in his bedroom doorway a few moments, watching.
"Hello, little sister." A broad smile crossed his face.
"What are you doing, Gus?"
"Can you keep a secret?" I assured him I could, thinking about Gem's secret about Fred that I'd vowed never to tell.
"I'm paying for our last load of coal so Mother can get another one."
"But Gus, what about your big adventure?"
Gus patted his bed, inviting me to come sit next to him. "There's nothing more important than helping this family. I can't bear the thought of baby Thea shivering from the cold this winter, especially if I can do something about it. I'm going downtown now to pay the bill and order another load of coal. If Mother knows what I'm up to, she'll try to stop me, so don't say a word to her, or anyone else. Do you promise?"
I nodded. "I promise."
My brother gave me a little squeeze. "Can I see a smile, little sister?"
I furrowed my brow. "If Popo doesn't come back soon, will we have to go to the poorhouse?" The thought if it sent a shiver up my spine.
"Not if I can help it," insisted Gus. "Besides, there are too many people who love us to let that happen."
I ran into my room, pulled the coins I'd earned running errands for Miss Beall from my shoebox, and returned to Gus's side. "It's not much, but I want to help the family, too."
My big brother put his arms around me and hugged me tightly.
After he left, I pulled out the half-dollar Miss Beall had given me on Beggars' Night. I turned it over and over in my hands before returning it to its safe place in the box. I knew Gus needed that coin to buy coal, and I should have given it to him. That half-dollar symbolized my new friendship with Laura Beall, and I wasn't willing to give it up. Not yet.
***
As November wore on, my life fell into a new rhythm. Between school and running errands for Laura Beall, I had little time to think about Popo. Charlie continued to help Aunt Lo at the library, and I promised I'd help again once the Christmas pageant was over.
On Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving Day, snow began falling. My classmates and I watched the snow accumulating on the ground from the second floor of Old Stoney. We talked about the white Christmases in north-central Indiana we remembered, but none of us remembered a white Thanksgiving.
By noon, three to four inches of snow had already accumulated on the sidewalk, prompting the principal to call off classes until Monday. Thrilled by our extended break, we clambered into our coats and boots and raced for the door.
As Charlie, Bernard, and I pushed through the falling snow, Bernard called out as he pointed toward our house. 'Well now, take a gander yonder!" I saw the A&P's delivery truck parked out front and a man carrying a large box to our door.
"I knocked, but nobody answered," he huffed, as he trudged back to his truck through the snow. "I got a second box for you."
"Gus could have brought the groceries home with him."
"Nah." The delivery man rubbed his hands together, then blew on them. "They're way too heavy to carry. Besides, there was a rush put on them."
The man hauled the second box to the porch. As the truck pulled away, Charlie opened one box. "Look at all the food." I peeked over his shoulder, my eyes wide with excitement.
I opened the door while Charlie and Bernard tugged the boxes inside. Blinn came down the stairs in time to help carry them into the kitchen and place them on the table.
"What's that?" Mother asked.
"It's food for tomorrow." Blinn looked through the boxes. "Everything we need for a real Thanksgiving feast."
We all helped pull the items out of the two boxes… milk, eggs, lard, butter, flour, sugar, potatoes, sweet potatoes, several cans of pumpkin, even a jar of maraschino cherries and a tin of marshmallows.
"Why, just behold the mighty size o' that bird!" Bernard's eyes widened as Blinn lifted the turkey out of the second box. "I ain't never laid eyes on a bird so grand!"
Mother frowned. "Where did this food come from?"
"The delivery man from the A&P brought it."
Blinn pulled off the bill that was taped to a box. "It's signed by Mr. Ghere."
"Well, it's about time that cheapskate brother of mine ponied up for Thanksgiving dinner." Aunt Lo stood in the doorway holding Thea. "Karl and I had it out a couple of days ago. I told him I couldn't remember him ever contributing to any of the holiday meals he's eaten here over the years. He growled something about being an invited guest and not wanting to insult his host and hostess by paying for anything. Karl claimed Iris contributed plenty, but I emphatically disagreed… horehound drops from Woolworth's do not count as plenty. He huffed and slammed the door on his way out, but apparently my brother had a change-of-heart."
"Karl had a change-of-heart?" Mother shook her head. "I doubt that."
"Maggie, I may have coerced Karl's kind gesture, but he came through, albeit at the last possible moment, with everything we need for a grand Thanksgiving dinner. It's been such a hard year for us, so let's try to be thankful and enjoy a happy day together."
"Fine."
Mother called out instructions to us. "Blinn, get the roasting pan off the back porch. You'll have to use the step stool… it's on the top shelf."
Turning to me, Mother pointed to items on the table. "Anna, put the eggs and butter in the Frigidaire, and count how many eggs we have left from our chickens."
When it got cold outside, any eggs my brothers collected from our chickens went directly into the Frigidaire because Mother feared they'd freeze on our back porch.
"Charlie, go down to the cellar. Make a list of everything that's down there. Can you do that for me?"
"Okay, Aunt Maggie. I'll get a scrap of paper and a pencil from your desk and write it all down." Off he ran. Charlie loved anything involving paper and pencils.
"It looks like there's ample sugar and flour in this box," Mother noted. "I think Karl wants his favorite sugar-cream pie."
"He loves your sugar-cream pie, Maggie. Truth be told, I might enjoy a wee taste of it myself."
"I'd better get busy. Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Let's get the rest of this moved off the table. I need it to roll out my pie crusts."
We all pitched in, excited that we weren't having chicken pie for Thanksgiving. Mother had Blinn put the turkey back into the box and set it on the back porch. "Cover the box with a towel," she instructed. "I don't want that turkey to freeze before it's time to dress it."
Mother spent the rest of the day making pies, two pumpkin, two mincemeat, and two special sugar-cream pies for Uncle Karl. As the pies awaited their turns in the oven, she completed the next day's menu as Gem and I checked off the ingredients she needed.
My sister frowned. "With all the pies you made, we may be short on sugar."
"Rachel is bringing honey when she comes tomorrow. We'll make do, in the meantime."
At five minutes until five o'clock, we heard a knock.
"Gus, who's at the door, son?"
"It's the coal man, Mother. He's here to deliver a load."
Mother walked out of the kitchen.
"I didn't order coal."
The man looked down at his pad. "It says right here you did, madam. Sorry I'm so late getting here. The snow slowed me down." The man scribbled a note on his pad with his pencil stub. "If the shoot's clear, I'll get the load dumped right away. I'd just as soon get on home and out of this cold."
When Mother turned her back on us, Gus looked at me and winked.
Chapter 13
Iawoke to the aroma of a savory hodgepodge of holiday fare wafting up the staircase from the kitchen. The smell of roasted turkey tickled my semiconsciousness first, but hints of oyster dressing, spicy mincemeat, and apple-rhubarb compote followed, one at a time, sparking memories of Thanksgivings past.
Through the worsening economic conditions, Mother feared her children going to bed cold and hungry. That fear had grown into a real possibility since the disappearance of my father. However, the unexpected gift of food from Uncle Karl soothed Mother's troubled soul, shifting her attention (if only for a day) from her daughter's hearing loss, her absentee husband, and the growing stack of bills to an outcome she could control. Today, the Ghere family would eat like royalty. I didn't know about tomorrow. No one, including Mother, knew our future.
Gem stirred next to me, then settled back into a morning dream. Before going downstairs, I pulled the blanket Thea had kicked off in the night back over her, tucking it gently under her chin. She slept peacefully, an innocent captive of her noiseless world.
Aunt Rachel and Aunt Lo sipped coffee at the kitchen table while Mother fed cranberries and oranges into her old cast iron grinder she'd clamped to the countertop. Mother never served turkey without cranberry salad. The three women chatted as if nothing outside our tiny world touched them, not the snowstorm, nor the uncertainty, nor the despair of those (mostly women and children) forced to live in the poorhouse. I wondered what the poor people would eat today.
"Annie, come give your favorite aunt a hug."
Aunt Lo grunted at the comment, so I gave her a reassuring smile as I fell into Aunt Rachel's arms.
My aunt's face looked much like Mother's, but that's where the resemblance ended. Two shades darker than Mother's, my aunt's hair hung to her waist. Although she'd wear it up when she worked alongside her husband on the farm, she often wore it down. Today, she'd tied it into a ponytail with a band and pulled it forward over her left shoulder, the perfect accent to her wholesome, freckled face. While Mother epitomized all things traditional, Aunt Rachel constantly redefined the unconventional. She was a rebel, and proud of it. Family lore included several stories about how Rachel's rebellion nearly put Mother and Father Blinn in early graves. Then Madison Caldwell came along.
Aunt Rachel adored her husband, everything about him. Her adoration was obvious in her words and actions. I know she loved her son, Charlie, but I doubted she could take another breath without Madison. I wished Mother loved Popo the same way. My aunt squeezed the breath out of me before I wriggled free. "When did you get here?"
"We arrived about an hour ago. Your Uncle Madison was none too happy getting out of a nice warm bed earlier than usual, but we had chores to do before we could leave."
"Did you have a hard time getting through the snow?"
"It wasn't easy, but Rosie was up to the task."
I saw a jug of honey on the counter, along with several other items Aunt Rachel and Uncle Maddy brought in from farm country.
"Is Charlie still asleep?"
"He's out in the barn with his father tending to Rosie. Madison wants her well-fed and well-rested before we head for home in the morning. We may be in for more snow."
I sat at the table with my aunts as they chatted with Mother. They knew to stay out of her way. She'd ask for help when she needed it.
"Is Augie coming for dinner?" Leave it to Aunt Rachel to question Mother about Popo.
Mother turned and glared at her sister. "Anna, go upstairs and get dressed. Gem was up late helping me get a jump on some of the preparation and dress the turkey, but it's time she got up. Our other guests will arrive soon."
Upstairs, Gem had taken Thea into the bathroom, so I crawled back into bed. All the Thanksgivings I'd ever known had been a blend of Mother's delicious cooking and Popo's exuberance for life. I'd coped with his absence for nearly a month, but today my longing to see him, to hold his hand, to be his angel, rolled over me like a wave. Would he come for Thanksgiving dinner? Would he walk through the front door as if nothing had happened between him and Mother and take his rightful place at the head of our table?
By noon, family and a few friends filled our house to the brim. With the coal bin full, Mother splurged and opened the doors to the green room to allow warmth to flow in. The children gathered around the Zenith radio, listening to music while playing cards on the floor. Aunt Rachel brought us a jigsaw puzzle… a picture of children ice skating on a pond… but she told us to wait until after dinner to put it together.
As the snow began falling again, Uncle Karl, Aunt Iris and MaMaw Ghere tramped over the bridge across Prairie Creek. At the door, Aunt Iris presented Gem with her usual contribution to the feast, a small candy dish of horehound drops. Bernard and Fred Moore came in the back door so as not to track more snow into Mother's entryway.
Gem retrieved Mother's best linens from the china cupboard and placed them on the dining room table. Eager to sit with her special guest, she left arranging the dishes, glasses, and silverware precisely at each place setting to me. Popo always carved the turkey, so I placed the big carving knife at the head of the table next to his plate. When I finished, I went upstairs to my parents' room and sat in Mother's chair by the window, looking for any sign of my father coming down the street from town.
