A Winter's Promise (11 page)

“
Oh, Mama! I
’
ll watch better! I
’
ll watch better!
”
he sobbed.

“
It
’
s a good thing you minded me. If you hadn
’
t let go
. . .
”

Her shudder ended with a sob.
“
Now, go get in bed
and don
’
t even
wiggle!
”
she ordered, shaking her finger
in his face.

She picked up the razor, keen enough to sever bone,

folded it, and put it in her
apron pocket.
She would
hide
it
well.
Clenching her jaws to
keep her
teeth from chat
tering, she took off her ove
rshoes and
coat. The dirty
dishes sat on the table accusing her, but she ignored
them. She filled the stove with wood, shoved the bread
and
Kaffee Kuchen
in the oven, and threw herself face
down on the bed, thinking that if one of the children so
much as moved, he
’
d wish he hadn
’
t.

“
I
’
m done,
”
she wept.
“
I can
’
t struggle anymore.
”
Her
back was cold, but she didn
’
t want to move to reach for a
cover.
Let the wind howl and the windows rattle,
she
thought.
I
don
’
t care. Probably Al will come home next
week, or who knows when, and find us all frozen stiff.
I
t
’
ll
serve him right.

From habit Emma started to pray,
“
Oh, Lord, help
me,
”
but she choked back the words. What was the use?
God didn
’
t care. Al didn
’
t care. Nobody cared.
Funny,
she thought,
I
don
’
t even feel like crying anymore. I just want to die.

Thump! Bump! There was someone at the door!

Emma scrambled to her feet, smoothed her hair, and
pulled her apron straight on the way to open it. She was halfway across the room when it burst open and a man,
so snow-covered she couldn
’
t tell who it was, stood in the doorway.

“
Help me with these confounded buttons!
”
Al
’
s voice
boomed as he pulled his snow-crusted
“
turkey
”
_,
off his
back and dropped it with a thump.

The children flew out of the bedroom.
“
Papa! Papa!
”

“
Wait now! Let Papa shake off his coat,
”
Emma yelled
over the din. She
dug the snow out from around his buttons, then she held back the children so Al could shake his coat out the doorway.

She hurried to the bedroom to lay out dry clothes for
him, calling,
“
How on earth did you get home in this storm?
”

“
Got a ride with Aaron Nelson to his house!
”
h
e yelled
back.
“
Only had to walk
the
last couple miles.
”

“
Oh, dear,
”
Emma said to herself.
“
He didn
’
t,
get
to
stop at Ma and Pa
’
s. Ma must be so disappointed.
”

Albert bounced on his toe.
“
You got to ride on his sleigh, with the horse?
”

“
Yup! Sure did. I
’
ll tel
l you all about it soon as I get
dry clothes on.
”

Albert kept up a steady stream of chatter as Al
changed, while Fred and Ellie bounced and squealed.
Why was Mr. Nelson the first one to have a horse, Al
bert wanted to know. Was he rich? Where did he
get it?
How much did it cost? What color was it? What did the
sleigh look like?

Al explained that
Mr. Nelson wasn
’
t what some peo
ple consider
“
rich,
”
but he thought a horse was
impor
tant, and that he shared it with other people whenever
he could.

The boys scampered along beside him as he carried
his wet clothes to the door and hung them on hooks.
E
l
lie
waited, her arms in the air, while he buttoned his
vest. When he finished he swooped her up, hugged
her,
and tossed her in the air. She squealed and laughed, while the boys yelled,
“
My turn! My turn!
”

Al grinned over his shoulder at Emma and called
over the children
’
s clamor,
“
Bread smells good.
Almost
done?
”

“
Bread
’
s not, but the
Kuchen
is,
”
she said.
“
Coffee
’
ll be ready in a minute.
”

She
’
d wait, Emma decided, to tell him about her
struggles until the first excitement of being home died
down. Besides, she needed to sort out her feelings, too.
She wasn
’
t sure she wanted to let go of that put-out feel
ing toward Al. He hadn
’
t ask
ed
her how she was, or
how things had gone—just came in and started making
demands right away. Still, it was so good to hear his voice, to hear the little ones laugh, to have his huge frame almost fill the room.

Well,
hello, little fella,
”
she heard Al
say
in
the spe
ci
al tone
he reserved for babies. He picked Georgie up
and held him at arm
’
s length, and the baby wiggled and
si
ghed.
“
Look at
‘
im laugh, will ya?
”

He sat down in the rocker with the baby in one arm,
Ellie in
the other, and one boy hanging on each knee.
“
W
ell, now ... you guys got anything to tell me?
”

“
Ellie tore the catalog,
”
both boys tattled in unison.

Al frowned.
“
Hey. You wouldn
’
t want anyone telling
on you, would ya?
”

Emma turned the hot
Kuchen
out on a clean dish
towel before she explained, matter-of-factly, what had
happened.
Just let him yell because I gave them the cata
log,
she thought.
He
’
ll get it with both barrels. I
’
d like to
know what he
’
d have done in
my
place.

She was almost disappointed when he ignored the in
cident and came to the table, a little one still in each
arm, dragging a boy on each leg. He told them how fast
the horse pulled the homemade sleigh, while Emma poured coffee, cut the
Kuchen,
and took the baby. Ellie clung to Al, daring Emma to make her move.

Albert took a drink of milk, leaving a white mustache.
“
Can we get a horse and a sleigh? Can we?
”

Al grinned and nodded.
“
Yup! Pretty soon. Pretty
soon.
”

He talked on about the week
’
s work, but Emma hard
ly heard him. His words were drowned, out by the
screaming in her mind,
What about me? What
about
what went on here while you were gone?

Several times she tried to break into his monologue
but, failing, retreated into silence.
If he
’
d just look at me,
she thought,
he could see I
’
ve had trouble.

“
Your ma sure bakes good,
”
Al said to the boys, his mouth so full his words were mushy.

Sure, that
’
s all you care about—your wants,
she
screamed silently.

He held up his cup. Emma struggled to her feet, babe
in her left
arm, and
got
the coffeepot from the
sto
ve
.

A
l
glanced up at the clock.
“
What on earth? The clock
’
s stopped!
”

She nodded.
“
I forgot to wind it last night.
”

“
You forgot to wind it?
”
he boomed. You
’
d think she
had said she
’
d forgotten to feed the baby.

Now was her opening. She wouldn
’
t tell him how
bad it had really been. He might
think
she was making it
worse, and he hated exaggeration.

“
I
—
I
had a little accident. Cora kicked me.
”

“
What? You let old Cora kick you?
”
Al slapped his
knee and roared with laughter, and the children started
to laugh, too.
“
Emma! I
’
m surprised at you. You know,
that old crosspatch! How come you let her get you? And
what
’
s that got to do with the clock not being wound; anyway?
”

Emma gulped.
“
Well it happened Thursday night. I was just putting the stool down; I
hadn
’
t even touched
her—
”

Al pushed back his chair and set Ellie down.
“
You can
tell me about it at suppertime. Looks like the snow is stopping now, so I
’
d better get some shoveling done while it
’
s still light. Wanna help me, boys?
”

They ran to pull on overshoes and coats.

Emma held the tears back until the three were out the
door. She could hardly see to take the bread out of the
oven and put the roast in.
“
He could have at least set the
clock before he went out,
”
she sobbed.

What a joke her daydreams had been—Al putting her
to bed, urging her to rest. He hadn
’
t even come near her.

When she thought about him not stopping at Ma and
Pa
’
s, she cried some more.
“
And he didn
’
t even ask if I
got hurt,
”
she sobbed, tears dripping into the dishwater.
“
And he
laughed.