Caleb's Story (5 page)

11

A
nother storm came. I retied the rope to the barn. The horses had been restless, a sign there would be bad weather, and the dogs paced.

“Don't fret, Lottie,” said Grandfather. “We'll keep the fire going and feed you well. Your life is good.”

“Their lives are good, aren't they?” I said. “They have no worries.”

Grandfather smiled.

“What worries do you have, Caleb?”

I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it. I had seen Grandfather's bag packed. I had seen Papa pass Grandfather in the hallway, neither of them speaking. I had heard Sarah's words to Papa, the words telling him what she did not love about him.

“Are you worried about your papa?” Grandfather asked.

I felt tears in my eyes. Grandfather put his arms around me. I looked over to the house, and I could see Papa watching us through the window.

“Your papa will be fine soon, Caleb. He gets stronger every day. Pretty soon he'll only use a cane. He'll be happy when he's working again.”

“I'm not worried about his leg, Grandfather.”

My throat felt tight.

“Ah,” said Grandfather. “Look, Caleb. Your papa has reason to be angry with me. I did a very bad thing years ago. I did something that affected his life. Every single day of it.”

“But you can write him a letter now,” I said.

Grandfather sighed.

“I can, Caleb. But don't go thinking it will make everything better with your papa.”

Grandfather went to feed the horses. I looked to the house, and Papa was still there, his face in the window, watching Grandfather and me.

Above us the sky darkened.

 

A noise woke me in the middle of the night. Was it the wind? Or was it the kitchen door closing? Snow blew against my windows, and I went down the stairs and into the kitchen. An oil lamp burned on the table. Lottie stood by the door, wagging her tail.

“Lottie? What's the matter? Where's Nick?”

Lottie whined and jumped up on the door. I looked out the window, but I couldn't see anything in the storm.

“Sarah?” Papa called softly from the bedroom.

“No, Papa. It's me. Caleb.”

I heard Papa get out of bed. He came into the kitchen slowly.

“Where is she?” he asked. “She was going to call Nick. He didn't come in. Sarah was worried.”

Papa came closer to me.

“Caleb? Where is she?”

My heart seemed cold. Cold like the wind outside.

“Her coat is gone. She wouldn't go out in this, Papa. She always told me never—”

Papa called up the stairs.

“Sarah? Are you there?”

There was only silence. Lottie began to howl.

“Sarah!” His voice sounded frightened.

Grandfather came down the stairs, his hair sleep-mussed.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Sarah,” said Papa. “She's out in this.”

Papa went over on crutches to get his coat.

“No,” said Grandfather. “You're not strong enough yet. Not fast enough. I'll go.”

Grandfather put on his coat and boots.

“She went after Nick,” I said.

“Her coat is red,” said Papa. “Look for a red coat.”

“Don't worry, Jacob,” said Grandfather. “The rope is up. I'll take Lottie with me.”

Grandfather took the lamp from the table.

“I'll come with you,” I said.

“Stay with your papa,” he said. “Lottie will help.”

The door opened, wind and snow blowing in. Then the door closed again and it was quiet.

“I should go,” I said to Papa. “Grandfather's sick. He's not supposed to go out in this.”

“What do you mean?” asked Papa.

“I heard Grandfather talking to Sam. Sam told him he'd die if he worked too hard. I want to go, too.”

I stopped talking and began to cry. Papa put his arms around me and held me. We stood that way for a long time as the wind howled. Then the door opened suddenly, Nick and Lottie bounding in.

“Caleb,” said Grandfather quickly. “I need you. Now! We have to dig Sarah out of the snow.”

“Is she all right?” asked Papa.

“I don't know,” said Grandfather softly. “Caleb?”

Together we went out into the storm.

“The rope broke,” shouted Grandfather. “I found her by the tree. Nick was with her.”

We struggled through the snow and wind. I could barely see Grandfather in front of me. And then I saw a little bit of red in the snow. Sarah was buried there, her face almost the color of snow.

“Sarah!” I shouted.

“She can't hear you, Caleb!” shouted Grandfather. “Here, help me dig her out.”

We used shovels and our hands until we could half carry, half lift Sarah out. She was so limp. I was so afraid.

When we opened the door, Papa's face looked as pale as Sarah's.

“Sarah!” he cried out.

“Talk to her, Jacob. Try to wake her. Don't let her sleep,” said Grandfather.

We lay Sarah on the daybed. Grandfather covered her with blankets and took off her boots.

“Get some tea, Caleb. Or coffee. Anything hot,” he said.

“Sarah,” said Papa, his voice frightened.

He touched her face.

“Sarah!” he said louder, frantically. “Don't sleep. Don't sleep!”

I handed Papa a cup of tea. Papa raised Sarah's head and spoke softly to her.

“Sarah, drink this now. We want you to wake up. Now, Sarah. Please!”

Suddenly, Sarah's eyes opened.

“Nick,” she said, her voice faint.

Papa smiled. Tears came down his face.

“Nick's fine, Sarah,” said Papa. “Here, Nick.”

Nick went over to Sarah and nosed her hand. Sarah's eyes closed again.

“It was cold. So cold,” Sarah said, confused. “And I was so tired.”

Grandfather rubbed Sarah's feet.

“It's all right, Sarah,” said Grandfather.

“And the rope broke,” said Sarah.

Papa took Sarah in his arms.

“It's all right, Sarah.”

Papa looked at Grandfather and at me.

“You're fine. Everything is all right now,” he said.

Grandfather took off his coat and boots. He went up the stairs to bed, walking slowly. After a while I left, too. Left Papa rocking Sarah while Lottie slept, and Nick sat watching Sarah while the wind howled outside.

12

I
didn't remember the wind dying in the night. I didn't remember falling asleep. When I woke it was light, the sun high, shining on the iced trees. The fence around the paddock looked slick and cold. From my window I could see the horses' cloud breaths as they ate hay.

Cassie's room was empty, her bed rumpled. Grandfather's room was neat, his bed made. Next to the door stood his bag, all packed. The journal I had given him sat on top.

I ran down the stairs, stopping suddenly in the kitchen. Grandfather and Sarah sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. I could hear Cassie chattering to Papa in his bedroom.

Sarah smiled at me.

“Sleep well, Caleb?”

I shook my head.

“What happened last night was my fault,” I said. “I put up the rope, Sarah. I must have done it wrong.”

“Fault?” said Sarah. “Oh, Caleb, I want you to listen to me. There comes a time when fault doesn't matter. Things happen. And we can't blame ourselves—or someone else—forever.”

I heard a noise behind me, and saw Papa standing there, Cassie beside him. I knew he had heard Sarah's words.

“Look,” said Cassie. “Papa's using a cane now.”

Papa sat down at the table. Grandfather poured him coffee.

“You must have been up all night,” he said to Papa.

Papa looked at Sarah.

“I didn't want her to go back to sleep,” he said.

Grandfather smiled.

“No, you didn't.”

Grandfather stretched.

“I have some things to finish before . . .” He stopped.

He looked at us for a moment, then he walked up the stairs.

“Before what?” asked Cassie.

“Before he leaves,” I said quickly. “His bag is packed upstairs. He told me that soon you could go back to work, Papa. That you'd be happier then.”

Papa looked toward the stairs.

“I don't want Grandfather to go away,” said Cassie. “I don't.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Cassie,” said Sarah softly. “Please make your bed.”

“Do I have to?” said Cassie.

Sarah smiled.

“All right,” said Cassie.

She ran off, her shoes clattering on the wooden stairs.

Sarah looked at me, and I knew what her look meant. I should leave them alone, too. I took a biscuit and started up the stairs.

“Things happen, Jacob,” I heard Sarah say. “The rope broke. I could have died.”

“Don't, Sarah,” said Papa.

“You could have lost me, Jacob,” said Sarah. “And that's the way life is. Something happens . . . one little moment in time. If you're lucky, you have a chance to make things better. You have that chance here. Don't let it pass.”

I heard Papa get up from his chair.

“Do you want some help?” asked Sarah.

“No,” said Papa. “I'll do this myself.”

I walked up the stairs quietly, Papa slowly coming up the stairs behind me. Grandfather stood at his window, looking out over the farm. As if he didn't even see me, Papa passed me and went into Grandfather's room. Grandfather and Papa, so much alike, faced each other.

“Jacob?” said Grandfather. “Sit down.”

Papa shook his head.

“I'm all right. I'll stand,” said Papa, leaning on his cane.

There was a long silence. Then came Papa's voice, softer than I'd heard it in a long time.

“Why didn't you take me with you? All those years ago. I wanted to be with you. No matter where you were.”

“Jacob—” said Grandfather.

But Papa went on.

“You didn't write. Not one letter. And I waited and waited.”

“I know,” said Grandfather. “I couldn't write, Jacob, because . . . I didn't know how to write you. I never learned.”

Papa moved closer to Grandfather.

“I was so ashamed,” whispered Grandfather. “Caleb knew. Caleb taught me. All the evenings in this room, Caleb taught me how to read. So I could write to you.”

Papa turned and saw me standing in the doorway.

“Caleb did that?” said Papa. “All those years . . . I was so little . . . and I began to think that somehow, something I had done had made you go away.”

“No,” said Grandfather quickly. “What I did was wrong. Your mother and I could not live together anymore. But what I did was wrong. It was my fault. All my fault.”

“Fault,” said Papa very softly. “Sarah says fault doesn't matter.”

Grandfather handed Papa a small sheet of paper.

“I started to write you a letter,” he said.

Papa read what was written there, but didn't speak.

“It says ‘I love you, Jacob,'” said Grandfather.

Papa looked at the paper for a long time.

“Don't go,” he said, his voice low. “Please don't leave us again. You belong here. I don't want to miss you again.
Ever.
”

Grandfather put his arms around Papa, and they stood in the small room, holding on to each other.

I turned and went downstairs, where Sarah still sat at the kitchen table. I sat across from her.

“Remember you asked me who I wanted to be like?” I said to Sarah.

Sarah nodded.

“It's Papa. I want to be like Papa,” I said.

For some reason—I couldn't say why—I began to cry. Sarah reached out and took my hand. But I cried so hard that, finally, Sarah got up and came to sit by me, putting her arms around me. Lottie and Nick came over to us, Lottie putting her head in my lap so that my tears fell onto her nose.

Cassie came into the room.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Sarah. “Not one thing in the world is wrong.”

 

Read on for an excerpt from
More Perfect than the Moon