Winter Is Not Forever (17 page)

“I know you’re awfully busy,” said Willie, “but we have a whole week here at home. I hope we can get together often while we’re here. We really would love—”

So that’s the way it was. Willie and Camellia. It was no longer
me
for either of them. It was
we
now, and I was still just
me
.

“Yeah. Sure,” I said. “Lots of time. We’ll—we’ll get together.”

“That sleigh ride, Josh,” cut in Camellia. “That sounds like so much fun. I hope we can work that in.”

“Sure,” I said. “Any time. Just let me know when it will work out.”

“Hey,” said Willie, pounding me on the back again as I shrugged into my coat, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we ask Mary to join us? Make it a foursome? What do you think?”

Camellia was already clapping her hands. “That would be so much fun!”

“Sure,” I said, trying hard to grin. “Sure—whenever you can make it.”

I managed to escape then. I found my way out of the boardinghouse into the crispness of the winter afternoon. The cold air helped me get my bearings. Already the sun was hanging very low in the sky. Snow was beginning to fall in light, scattery flakes. The cold wind promised that choring would be much harder over the next few days.

But I didn’t care. In fact, I welcomed the extra work. Something good and solid and demanding would help my whirling brain to sort through the news that had just been enthusiatically shared.

I still couldn’t grasp it. Here I had waited and prayed for years for Camellia to become a Christian so that—so that I could feel right about asking her to be my girl. Then she finally becomes a Christian, and what happens? My friend—my best friend Willie gets there first.

I shook my head to clear it; then I realized that I was hurrying down the street in the dead of winter with my coat flapping in the breeze instead of buttoned like it should be. I fumbled with the buttons. There seemed to be a bulge in the right pocket. Then I remembered—the cameo! My special gift to Camellia. My face felt hot, even with the wind blowing cold against it.
I would have given it to her, too!
exploded through my mind. If Willie hadn’t come when he did, I would have made a complete fool of myself. To think I had been dumb enough to look for a piece of jewelry with a ring to match. My face burned with humiliation.

Aunt Lou called to me as I unhitched the horses from the churchyard, but I just waved at her and shouted that I didn’t have time to stop.

The horses were in a hurry to get home to a warm barn. They had been standing in the cold for too long. I let them pick their own speed and didn’t even bother driving them much.

Grandpa and Uncle Charlie were both in the kitchen when I came in from settling the horses to change my clothes for choring. They seemed to look me over real good, and I was determined that I wasn’t going to let anything show.

“Your friends get home?” asked Grandpa. I nodded.

“How’s Willie? Changed much?” put in Uncle Charlie.

I shrugged. “Some,” I said.

“Like how?” This was Grandpa again.

“He’s—he’s bigger. Broader. Almost done his schooling. More grown-up, I guess.”

“Grown-up,” chuckled Uncle Charlie. “Never thought that Willie would actually grow up.”

I defended Willie then—after all, he was my friend. “Well, he is,” I said stubbornly. “He’s even gonna get married.”

“Willie?”

“To whom?”

“To Camellia,” I stated boldly.

I hadn’t wanted to say that. In fact, I hadn’t even been able to admit that truth to myself yet, and now saying it out loud made me feel like I was shutting and bolting a door to a beautiful room.

“Camellia?”

“You mean, the teacher’s daughter? The one that just became a Christian?”

I nodded, my eyes dropping to my boots.

I could sense Grandpa and Uncle Charlie both studying me, and then their eyes turned back to one another. I didn’t even look up, just moved toward the stairs.

“I gotta change for chorin’.”

I heard a chair scrape behind me and knew that Uncle Charlie was shifting his position. Then he called after me, “When?”

I didn’t even turn around, just kept right on toward the stairs. “Not for four years.”

I heard Uncle Charlie shift again and Grandpa give his little, “Whoo-ee,” and then I heard Grandpa say plain as day, though I knew he wasn’t speaking to me. “Lots of things can happen in four years.” But I kept right on going up the stairs and didn’t even look back.

Not until I finished with chores and supper, alone, in my own room in my own bed, did the truth of it all really hit me.
Camellia is getting married. Getting married to Willie.
There would never, never be a chance for her to be my girl. I had no right to even think of her in that way again.

Before me flashed her beautiful face framed by coppery curls. Her eyes flashed excitedly and her cheeks dimpled into a winsome smile. I turned away from her, shutting my eyes hard to blot out the image, and I buried my face in my pillow and cried like I hadn’t done since I’d been a kid.

And after I had cried myself into exhaustion, there was nothing else for me to do but pray.

For seven days I would be forced to see Willie and Camellia—together. For seven days over Christmas. There would be special parties, special services, extra outings—and I would be expected to be there. They would be there, too, arm-in-arm, smiling. There was no way to avoid them.

I thought of faking illness, but I knew that wouldn’t be honest. I thought of not going, but that would get me nothing but questions to be answered. I thought of saying I was too busy, but the farm work was so completely caught up that I could hardly use that excuse. In the end I did what I knew I had to do. I went. I went to the Christmas program, the Carol singing, the party at Willie’s. I even took that sleigh ride with Willie, Camellia, and Mary Turley. Somehow I managed to make it through.

We spent Christmas with Uncle Nat and Aunt Lou again. I thought about giving her the cameo, but I knew I just couldn’t do that. I ended up shamefacedly taking it back, exchanging it for a brooch for Aunt Lou, cuff links for Uncle Nat and a tie bar for Uncle Charlie. That just about finished off my Christmas shopping. I added a tie and suspenders for Grandpa and then went looking for something special for Sarah and Jonathan.

I didn’t call on Mrs. Foggelson on Christmas Day. I knew she was having her own Christmas that year. With Camellia home, she sure didn’t need me. It was good to see the two of them doing things together. Mrs. Foggelson had even joined Camellia in church on Christmas Sunday. It turned out to be a good Christmas, after all. Maybe God really was answering my prayers. I was even able to think about other things than Camellia—but that took some effort.

Before we knew it, it was time to gather at the train station and say goodbye to Willie and Camellia. I wasn’t sure when I would see them again. Willie said that he might be going overseas right after he finished his schooling, and Camellia planned to stay right on at the school, working in the summer and then going back to classes in the fall again.

Mrs. Foggelson was at the station, too. She was awfully sad to see Camellia go. They hugged one another for a long time and cried a lot. It made me feel a bit teary too, but there was no way that I would let it show.

Willie shook my hand, then hugged me. Camellia hugged me too.

“You’ve been such a special friend, Josh,” she whispered. “I have one more thing to ask of you. Take care of Mamma. Please. She needs someone so much.”

I nodded in agreement but I couldn’t help but wonder why Camellia couldn’t stay and take care of her ma herself.

And then they were gone. Several people stood around watching the train pull out. Some of them, I imagined, would stand right there, like they always did, until the train was just a distant dot. I didn’t. As soon as the big wheels began to turn, pulling it forward, I turned my back on it and headed for Chester. I didn’t need to prolong the agony. I had been through quite enough.

C
HAPTER
18

Going On

I
DID A LOT MORE GROWING UP
in the months that followed. I did more praying, too. For the first time in my life I began to realize what it really meant to turn my life—everything about it—over to God for His choosing.

As I thought about it I realized that Camellia had made the right choice. Willie was a strong Christian, intent on service for God. At first I had a difficult time picturing a woman like Camellia with her hair pulled back in a strict knot, wearing a plain dark dress and high leather boots against snakes and scorpions. Then I began to think of the real Camellia, the one that God wanted her to be—gentle, caring, compassionate—a worthy and life-enriching companion for Willie.

As I prayed and sorted through things, putting them in their proper perspective, I came to a quiet peace with the way that God was working out the situation.

I turned my attention back to the farm just in time to begin the preparations for spring planting.

I knew that we still had a long way to go in reaching maximum production, but we were on the right track. The farm looked good. The freshly painted buildings and fences glistened with each sunrise, and the fields were free of weeds and thistles—as much as we could possibly keep them. The spring calves were the bestlooking bunch I had seen in my years on the farm. They looked strong and healthy, and I knew they would make good stock.

So as I entered that springtime, I began it as a more mature person, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Grandpa seemed to pick up a bit that spring as well. He seemed to feel better, and he looked better, too. Maybe he was finally getting rested and built up after so many years of carrying the load. At any rate, he did almost as much of the farming as I did, and when I protested, he just waved it aside, saying that he never felt better in his life.

Seeing Grandpa in good form made it even harder for Uncle Charlie. He wanted so much to be as involved, but he wasn’t able to do much at all.

But Sarah was allowed to pay us frequent visits, and she was good for Uncle Charlie’s morale. She was going on five and quite grown-up. She spent most of her time in the kitchen with Uncle Charlie, running his errands and helping him. Being with Sarah kept his spirits up—and she was amazingly helpful, too.

A late, slow spring put everything behind for the whole growing season. Aunt Lou came out and planted the big farm garden; that saved us time and worry. And it wasn’t a burden for Aunt Lou, for she loved to be involved in making things grow.

At last, some warm, dry weather arrived, and the crops took off. They seemed to sprout up overnight.

I was going through the last of the summer months thinking only of farming and a very occasional trip to the fishing hole when Grandpa caught me off guard. We were heading to town for some supplies, and I was thinking ahead, looking forward to some time with Jon and Sarah and a piece of Aunt Lou’s berry pie.

“Been thinking of offering to board the schoolteacher this year.”

I swung around to face him and must have given the reins a fair jerk, for the team threw up their heads and switched their tails in protest.

“You what?” I blurted.

“The teacher,” repeated Grandpa as though I hadn’t heard. “I hear they need a place for her to board.”

“And what would we ever do with a teacher?” I said tartly. “We can barely manage ourselves.”

“That’s the point,” said Grandpa.

“You aren’t expecting a schoolteacher to teach all day and then come home and cook supper for—”

“ ’Course not! ’Course not!” said Grandpa holding up his hand and shaking his head.

“Then what did you mean? How’s boarding the schoolteacher going to help us out any? And, besides, where would we put her?”

“We have extry bedrooms.”

“Where?”

Grandpa looked at me like I wasn’t even thinking. “Well,” he said. “Iffen you recall, there is one just down the hall from you.”

“
Aunt Lou’s?
” I threw out the words as if Grandpa was considering treason.

“Was,” corrected Grandpa. “Was Lou’s. Don’t recall seeing her use it for some time now.”