Under A Living Sky (5 page)

Papa was smiling as Mary turned to go back upstairs, but Judith was not.

“Whatever you call her, she'll need some clothes,” said Mother. She lifted her knitting proudly. Her nice blue-lined hand held up a small blue wool dress, half finished. “Put her to bed for now, Mary, and in the morning I hope she'll be fit to be seen.”

Mary ran upstairs, put Jessy to bed and bustled around her. Jessy felt cold, her head was not comfortable on the pillow and she even came down with a sudden fever. One moment passed into another, and Mary had to be called down to supper. Only then did she realize how frozen she felt. When she came down into the kitchen, she ran to Papa, just returning from evening chores. He dripped with sleet and carried a pail of frothy milk. Mary hugged him earnestly. “Thank you, Papa, for Jessy.” She ran to Mother and hugged her. “Thank you, Mother, for making Jessy's dress.”

“You're welcome.” Mother pulled away from Mary to plunk a bowl down in the center of the kitchen table. For this evening only, the table's stained wood and scars were hidden under a cover of linen. That single white sheet, spotless, transformed the kitchen into a marvellously festive and happy place.

When they were all sitting down and examining the collection of bowls before them, Mother said, “Mary, will you kindly say grace?”

Feeling solemn, Mary folded her hands and bowed her head. This was usually Judith's job, and she felt every eye must be on her. “Thank you, God,” she said, “for sending us our little friends. Ah-men.” When Mary looked up again, Papa had a lopsided grin on his face. Mother's cheek was twitching. Joseph was flying his fork through the air like a bird. But across the steaming bowls, Judith glared at Mary.

It was a fancy meal, with cabbage and carrot soup, chicken, potatoes (mashed on this very special day), a squash and turnip dish that Mary couldn't decide if she liked, bread, milk for the children and tea for Mother and Papa. For dessert, Mother set a candied apple on each plate.

Even Judith found it within herself to smile at such a treat.

Chapter 6

Mary woke up as the blankets were moving toward the door. It had to be Judith, up to her old tricks. Angrily, Mary flipped herself over to protest and found herself looking straight into Judith's eyes, a moody gray like Mother's. The blankets crept on.

Judith put out her hand to touch Jessy, who lay on the bed between them. Jessy, completely at home, gazed up at the ceiling. How had she come to be there? Mary remembered laying the doll on her other side, the side away from Judith. Now she grabbed the doll and turned away before Judith could injure her. Mary received a long hard pinch on her shoulder. But she said nothing. Better to stay quiet than have Judith add a punch as well.

“Joseph,” said Judith, rolling off her side of the bed. “You'll put the blankets back on the bed right now, if you know what's good for you.”

Joseph huffed and puffed around the bed, threw the blankets in a heap on top of Mary, peeked in at Jessy, who lay in the crook of Mary's arm, and meekly followed his sister downstairs. The room became peaceful and quiet. Mary set Jessy's head on her pillow. The doll's friendly black eyes were full of understanding.

Mary, warming now under the blankets, recalled once again how last week she had placed Jessy on the bed and left her. It had started as an experiment, more or less, but ended as a disaster. She just wanted to see if Judith could at least be friendly when no one was looking. Was that a week after Christmas, or two? Time was hard to keep track of after days of being kept indoors. Wrapped in a blanket, Mary had hidden in the wardrobe and waited for Judith to come upstairs and change after school. Judith came into the room, leaned down, looked around and pinched Jessy. She pinched a doll!

“Caught you red-handed!” Mary had shouted as she sprang out of the wardrobe. “What's the matter with you anyway?”

“Just seeing what this rag is made of, you poisonous little brat.”

“If I'm so poisonous, why are you pinching a doll?”

“You're so right,” Judith said, pinching Mary hard on the arm.

Mary had grabbed Jessy and run downstairs, crying to Papa and pointing at the new red welt. Papa glanced at her arm, kept shoving firewood into the heater and called Judith down. “What's this all about? You know you're not supposed to get her riled up and running around, what with her condition.”

Judith told her story.

“You keep your fingers apart from that doll,” Papa said after she finished.

“Yes, sir.” Judith stared at the floor and kicked a building block into the corner.

Mother, listening at the kitchen doorway, added, “And you, Mary, you don't set your sister up for trouble that way. That's a mean trick to play.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Since then Judith had missed few chances to pinch and annoy, but now the pinches were delivered to Mary's back and legs, places where the evidence of cruelty was not easily noticed. But Judith had pinched a doll! What kind of monster would do that? She sighed. This was why Jessy slept on the other side. And this meant Mary had to sleep closer to the monster herself. But then Jessy could lie at a distance, safe and sound. How had Jessy ever got between them on the bed? Mary picked up the doll and hugged her. “Oh, Jessy,” she said, “you will have to watch out for Judith. You know she can't be trusted.”

The doll seemed to agree, but also not agree. What could Jessy mean by that? Thinking of the weeks following Christmas, Mary found she couldn't remember much in Judith's favor. But setting aside the torments of her sister, the days melted and merged and hung in the past like a pleasant haze at sunrise. She sighed happily.

A strange noise came through the door. It took a moment for Mary to realize Mother was humming downstairs. Was that a Christmas carol? As they listened, Mary held Jessy out to hear the song:

What child is this, who, laid to rest,
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet
While shepherds watch are keeping?

Mary smiled. Mother hadn't sung anything since last summer, when her lost angel had squeezed all the music out of her. And while it wasn't exactly a happy-sounding song, it did have angels in it. Mary felt sure this meant life on the farm must get better now.

“You may not agree with me,” said Mary, “but it's because of you, Jessy, my girl, that our long wide white valley is forgetting how to be sad.

“Shall we go out and do the chores, my dear? Yes we shall. A storm last week and cold every day and Judith non-stop, of course, but we have each other.” Mary sighed dramatically. “How about we play mother and baby today and help Papa with the chores tonight? Tonight we shall have to be out of the way before the nasty monster comes home.” She hugged the doll again and set her down gently.

“Aren't you cold, Jessy, dear? I do think I must have taken a chill, and we may have to go to town for the doctor. You'll likely be next, poor thing. Like to go down to the front room and look out at the valley?”

Jessy's round rough face indicated that she was all for a trip down the stairs, so Mary wrapped her carefully in her blanket. The blanket was a gift, not to Mary but to Jessy, a worn terry-velvet towel that Mother said was pretty near all that was left of better days. Suddenly shivering with cold, Mary grabbed Jessy and ran down the stairs to the front room. Joseph lay on the floor there, contemplating a new fortress built out of blocks. But that room was cold too, so she went into the kitchen instead. She plunked Jessy down on a chair near the black, smoke-smelling cookstove.

“Not too cold, not too hot, just right,” said Mary. “Better enjoy yourself while you can, dear, because all too soon the nasty monster will be home.”

“You really could be nicer to Judith,” Mother said. She was peeling a huge potato. A long bumpy tail of potato skin was winding like a snake about her arm.

Mary wondered about Mother's change of personality. She seemed less angry now than a few weeks ago. What had happened? She could hardly ask something so personal. “I heard you singing,” she said instead.

Mother didn't smile exactly, but she didn't frown either. “Life goes on. And people rely on me.” She looked over with those gloomy gray eyes of hers.

“Like me.”

“Like you.”

“Jessy too.” Jessy took a bow, and Mary grinned at her.

“I'm just saying we're all in this together. Why not make the best of it?”

Mary tucked Jessy under her arm. “We'd rather be alone, Mother. Judith's always pinching or getting us into trouble. She doesn't know how to treat company.”

“Well, your words hurt her. You both could use a friend. This dust bowl is a lonesome place.”

“She doesn't want to be my friend.”

“Everyone wants friends.”

If Judith wanted a friendship, thought Mary, her pinching fingers sure didn't seem very inclined to help out. Mary snapped her own fingers in the air.

Mother looked at her sharply over another potato, and Mary lowered her fingers.

Mother sighed. “Why don't you go find a story to read?” she said.

Mary felt she would rather go out to the barn to help Papa. She often poured slop for the pig, whose hungry and inquisitive little ones she loved to stroke. Maybe she'd gather eggs. The huddled party of red chickens bickered and gossiped ceaselessly in a dusty corner of their cold run, but even in winter a few of them took a break from their busy social lives to lay an egg or two. Mary pulled the egg basket from under the bench. She planned also to throw hay to the cow and her fawn-brown calf, and pet the ever-patient Clyde. Today she had to stay clear of his huge stamping hooves. Only last week, Papa had been very short with her for not paying attention to where she was going.

“Can we go out to the barn?”

“No, better not. It's so cold out there. Why don't you find a story to read to your brother? Keep him busy. You're good at keeping people busy. But first eat your porridge.”

“Aw. Jessy wants to help with chores.” And although she read stories very well and enjoyed pictures, Mary wanted action, not to sit through a book. “Besides, Papa needs me. He said I can help out any time I want.”

“What did we agree about the nice blue dress going out to that filthy barn?” Mother pointed at Jessy with the paring knife.

“But I have to go out.”

“You want to catch that pretty wool I knitted on slivers and nails?”

Mary leaned down to listen to Jessy, who told her it was no use getting angry because Mother had made up her mind. And warmer days were coming. “What's that? Oh, all right. Jessy says we are hungry after all, and to stay home, so I guess after breakfast we'll read
Old Nursery
Stories and Rhymes
. She really likes the ‘Goldilocks
'
story.” Mary placed the doll in the egg basket and swung it around her head for a balloon ride. “Joseph can be the audience if he behaves himself and doesn't yell every minute.”

That night Judith was particularly vicious, delivering a kick that left three wide scratches on Mary's calf. Mary hopped out of bed and limped downstairs crying, “Mother, Judith keeps pinching and pushing and kicking. Look at this. I can't take it anymore!”

Mother and Papa sat in the warm kitchen, which rang with pops and snaps as knots of burning wood exploded in the stove. Mother sighed and said, “Will you go up, or shall I?”

“You go.”

Papa seemed to be piecing together an odd contraption. There were many parts spread out on the table, all intriguing and none familiar. “What are you doing, Papa?” Mary asked.

Papa was concentrating. Surrounded by wires and spools, he said nothing.

“Did something else get broken?”

“Putting a kit together.”

“A lunch kit?”

“Does this look like lunch?”

“No. But what...”

“A wireless.”

“Where'd you get it?”

“Remember the milk and packages of cheese that go in with Judith?” He peered down to examine some intricate parts. “I don't know about this fine work.”

Mary nodded at the back of his bent head. “Uh-huh.”

“Johnson from the co-op sent it out in trade for the milk and cheese. They call it a kit because you put the pieces together yourself. Don't touch that iron, by the way. It's hot enough to melt ya like butter.”

She jerked back her hand. Though she knew better, she had almost touched the iron. She studied Papa quickly to see if he'd noticed. He hadn't. “Why?”

“Got to melt the solder to hold the bits together.”

Mary sat on a chair to watch him. He twisted together two wires and laid them on the iron. When he touched them with the wire of solder, the wires sucked the glistening metal into their winding strands. A few drops of molten silver trickled down the side of the iron. He checked the directions again, pursing his lips.