Julia's Hope (17 page)

“When do you pluck up?” Sarah asked.

“I reckon that’s talkin’ ’bout weeds. Or else harvesttime, yes, when you clear the garden.”

“What if you plant at the wrong time?” Robert asked. “Or sloppy and quick, like me?”

“Well, then the Lord can’t bless the work a’ your hands the way he would if ya done things in order. There’s a season for ever’thin’. I like to think of that ever’ time I’m plantin’. The good Lord has his ways of things, and the best we can do is work ’long with him. Like you all comin’ out here, for instance.”

She stopped to open up the bag of seed beans, and Samuel turned his head to hear her continue. “The way I see it is, you was plucked out of Pennsylvaney at the right time. And he brung ya clear ’cross them miles just to plant you here.” She glanced up at me and then turned back and gave Sarah a little hug. “Your folks may not be seein’ no daylight yet,” she said. “But pretty soon they’ll be settin’ in some roots and pokin’ their heads up a little. Just like the beans is gonna do.”

Robert was frowning. “We planted corn some days ago, and it ain’t even up yet. You suppose we done it wrong?”

“Takes time, that’s all, child.” She handed him a bunch of seeds and started him off in a new row.

“Are we really planted here?” Sarah asked her. “Like seeds?”

“Just as good as. And God done it too. Put you right where you belong so I could have your comp’ny ’fore I die.”

“You’re gonna die?” Sarah sounded worried at the sudden suggestion, and I had to stop and take a breath. Samuel was looking down into his dirt row.

“I’m fairly sure of it, child,” she said. “But it ain’t nothin’ to be bothered about. I’ll be plucked outa here and planted someplace better, that’s all.”

“When?” Sarah persisted, her eyes wide.

Emma was just starting to answer when we heard a rustling in the timber and the sound of voices. Emma perked up her head and looked at me. “Did you hear that?”

“Somebody’s coming,” I said, stating the obvious. “Probably some Hammond boys.” They would be wanting Robert to go fishing with them. He’d been itching for it all morning.

“No, I don’t mean that,” Emma declared. “Them boys is comin’ sure, but Lordy sakes, if George ain’t sent us a cow ’long with ’em!”

Then I heard it, loud and clear through the trees. A low moo, almost a complaint, as if the beast were objecting to being dragged along.

Emma started to rise, but fell right back in the dirt. “I just knowed he’d do us right!” she exclaimed. “Praise be! Maybe it’s ol’ Rosey!”

We looked toward the trees where Willy Hammond and a big brother soon came out, leading a bony cow at the tail of a rope. Robert ran to meet them. Sarah jumped up in excitement. But Emma just sat there, staring at the animal. She shook her head. “Which one is it?”

Samuel looked at me and then back at the cow. I took his hand and waited for the Hammonds to come closer. As they did, I saw the disappointment in Emma’s face. George Hammond had let her cow get scrawny.

“Bring her right over here!” she called to the boys. Then she turned to Samuel. “Help me up. Help me up.”

Samuel lifted her while I retrieved her canes from the stone walk. She stood there in Willard’s trousers with one leg rolled to the knee, the most dignified soul I’d seen in a lifetime of days. By the time the boys were close enough for her to see them, she was smiling.

“Lula Bell. What a blessing. This one was just a calf when I seen her last. But she’s a lady now.”

“Pa said to bring her to you to keep,” Willy said. The bigger boy just looked at the ground.

“Well, tell your pa it’s just too bad he couldn’t come and bring her hisself this mornin’,” Emma replied. “Would sure be fine to speak with him. And your mama too. But it’d take me to midnight gettin’ through them woods.”

“Mama can’t be walkin’ over, on account of her baby’s due,” the older boy spoke up.

“I know that, Joey,” Emma answered. “But will you tell ’em for me, anyway?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But Willy was looking troubled. “Does that mean you won’t be comin’ over for the birthin’ like you done for Rorey and Harry and Bert?”

Emma shook her head. “I been there for all of you, ’cept ol’ Sam. But if your pa don’t bring the wagon again, I’ll be missin’ this one, honey. I don’t get ’round good no more. But don’t you worry. Your mama, she’ll be fine. Got a whale’s share of experience, she does.”

I looked at her in surprise.
She helps the neighbors with
their babies too?

“I’ll fetch ya,” Joey announced with conviction. “You oughts to be there.”

“You make sure you ask your pa about it first,” Emma admonished. “Then I’ll be glad to come.”

Joey Hammond leaned forward, took the cow’s lead rope out of his brother’s hand, and gave it to Emma. But he never acknowledged the rest of us standing there. “We best be goin’,” he said, his voice low and solemn.

Emma patted the cow’s nose. “She give you milk?”

Both Hammond boys nodded.

“You still got any of the rest of ’em?”

“Two more,” Willy admitted. “They’s all milkers, but Rosey’s the best.”

“Sold the others?” Emma asked again.

“To Jeth Mitchell couple a’ years ago.”

“Shut up, Will,” said the older boy. “I tol’ ya it’s time to get home.”

Emma looked up at Joey and nodded. “You go ahead. Tell your pa we sure do ’preciate him lettin’ us have Lula Bell. And tell your mama hello.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The taller Hammond took hold of his brother’s shoulder with a strong hand and turned him back toward the woods. Willy turned around enough to wave at Robert, and then they marched off together.

Samuel said nothing, but I couldn’t be so easygoing. I took Emma’s hand. “You can’t let them get by with this.”

“Now, child,” she said. “He sent me a cow.”

But I was hot inside. “
Your
cow, Emma! And he’s got two more! And he sold some and never told you! You don’t have to let him cheat you like this!”

Emma shook her head and smiled at me. “He’s been feedin’ ’em all this time. And he sure ’nough needs a good milker over there. He knowed he was obligated, seein’ they’s mine. But he’s got to consider his own youngsters, you know.”

“That doesn’t excuse him never telling you. Never paying you a dime.”

“Lula Bell’s too close over here to m’ strawberries. Samuel, will you take her over by the barn where the grass is thick and just tie her to that post? Lordy, we’s got to check that fence over now.”

Sam took the rope and stood studying the cow for a minute. Lula Bell was big even if she was thin, and I knew how awkward Sam must be feeling, being so close to her. But he gave a pull and they went together without much trouble to the barn. I watched Samuel tie her to the post and then jump when the cow came up close and stuck her nose in his shoulder.

“She ain’t got milk till evenin’,” Emma told me. “You oughta pull her some sweet clover and take it over there.”

“You mean they already milked her this morning?”

“You can tell by the udders. But Julia, now, maybe they needed it.”

I didn’t say a word. Still steaming inside, I didn’t want to blow my top over our selfish neighbor when it was Emma’s business, not mine. But I hated that George Hammond was cheating her, using her, and claiming we were the ones doing so. I began to wonder about what Samuel had asked Emma before. Did they pay anything at all for the field? Or did she just let them by for that too, because there were so many Hammond mouths to feed?

It seemed crazy, me being so stirred by this. After all, she was giving to us too. But this was different somehow, and even Emma knew it.

I had a hard time putting thoughts of the Hammonds out of my mind. But we had to get back to planting.

“Lettuce goes ’bout quarter inch down, now,” Emma reminded us. “Turnips just a little more. We don’t wanna make them seedlin’s work too hard findin’ sun, you know.”

“What’s salsify?” Robert asked, reading the handwritten label on an envelope.

“Root ’bout as long as my hand. Real good for stew and such. Some folks say it tastes like oysters, but I wouldn’t know ’bout that. Never did eat me no oysters.”

Sarah had wandered over into the strawberry patch and was peeking around under leaves for a toad among the berries. “Mama, look!” she suddenly called. “A red one!”

“Don’t pick it yet,” I warned. “Let it get red clear to the tip.”

Too late. She already had it in her hand. “It
is
red, Mama. Come see.”

I went and found with pleasure that she had indeed discovered our first ripe strawberry. Looking around, I quickly found four more.

Emma was delighted. “Just a few days and we’ll have to come out with a mixin’ bowl! They’ll be turnin’ all over the patch. Oh, what eatin’!”

I handed her the berries I had picked. Sarah had already eaten hers. Emma handed one to Robert and ate the rest, obviously savoring the season’s first taste.

“Don’t none of you let no birds settle down over ’em now, or they’ll be peckin’ ’em up,” she admonished us. “And you make sure and tell me if Wilametta sends any of them young’uns up here gawkin’ at ’em. I’ll give ’em a bowl or two, but they ain’t pickin’ the patch clean this year.”

I felt myself steaming up again at the mention of Hammonds.
Lord, help me,
I prayed.
This is no way to live neighborly.

“Sarah, come here.” Robert was suddenly down on his knees in the dirt, looking toward the edge of the grass just a couple of feet away.

Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted to trust him. “What for?”

“Just come here, will you? But not too fast. You’ll scare him.”

Sarah jumped toward him. “Who? Scare who? Show me!”

“Right there, silly. Right by them little yellow flowers. See him?”

Sarah ran straight for the sorrel flowers, and Emma laughed as a big toad and a little girl jumped at the same time, startled by each other.

“He’s getting away!” Sarah cried in dismay.

“He won’t go far,” Emma assured her. “He knows where the garden is. He’ll be sittin’ under punkin leaves ’fore long, eatin’ up them squash beetles. ’Least I hope he does that.”

Emma stopped talking, suddenly staring into the green at Sarah’s feet and looking as pleased as she could be. “Will you looky there! Julia, check where that toad was hoppin’ and tell me if that ain’t mustard coming up in the grass! Had me some go to seed years ago, but I figured they’d be done volunteerin’ by now.”

The plant truly was a mustard, as far as I could tell, and I marveled that a woman who couldn’t see to thread a needle could pick it out among the weeds.

“Makes for good greens, you know,” she told me. “Too bad there ain’t scads of ’em all over the place. Dig her up, will you, and we’ll plant her nice and easy at this end of the turnip row. Fetch me a bowl of water, Robert. They set so much better if you mud ’em in right.”

Lula Bell let out a moo that made me jump. She just stood there, looking us over and busily chewing. I thought about the milking and wondered if Emma had ever used a stanchion. I didn’t remember seeing one in the barn. Maybe she was on such good terms with her cows that they had always just stood still for her. I hoped that would work for me.

I went to get the trowel to move Emma’s mustard plant, but I kept thinking about that cow.
Lord, give Lula Bell plenty
of milk,
I prayed.
We need it, especially for Sarah.

I glanced around the yard and finally spotted some clover, the red kind, though it hadn’t bloomed yet.
I’d better do what Emma said and pull some for the cow, right after I
plant the mustard in the garden.

There were two more little mustard plants coming up where the seeds must have dropped in the grass, and I set them all in a line at the end of the turnip row, like Emma had asked. Such a blessing, to have something up and growing already in that bare dirt. It made me wish for tomatoes and cabbage and peas. And potatoes.
Oh, to have
lots of potatoes. Lord, we’d be all right then.

Emma was down on her knees, tamping down the dirt over the turnips and lettuce. We put in the string beans and the salsify next, and then the pumpkin hills beside the rows where we’d planted corn. It made me feel so rich to look at that ground and know it was done. A garden was a promise from God, pure and simple. A little work and you reap the benefits. Just like it should be.

“Now, Robert and Sarey,” Emma was saying. “It’ll be your job to help me keep the weeds down come summer. Your folks is gonna have plenty ’nough to do.”

I smiled at the looks on their faces. Sarah evidently thought it grand to be considered big enough for such an important task. Robert, on the other hand, made no effort to hide his distaste for the idea. But he knew better than to argue. He got up, brushed the dirt off his jeans, and frowned at me. “Can I go fishin’ now?”

“After lunch.”

Sam was putting sticks in the ground to mark our rows and the pumpkin hills. As I picked up our tools and the empty seed envelopes, the brown paper bag that had held the envelopes fluttered away in the breeze. I turned toward the barn after it just in time to see something small and gray scurry inside.

“Did you see that?” Robert asked.

“I surely did. And I think it was a cat.”

“A cat?” Sarah piped up. “Where?”

“In the barn. Maybe. If that’s what it was. But you stay away for now. If it claims the place, it’ll get used to us after awhile. Probably half wild now, though, honey. It might scratch.”

“Be a good thing if it is a cat,” Emma added. “They keeps the mice down.” She looked over at the cow lazily switching its tail. “We oughta send ’em somethin’, you know, to thank ’em for bein’ so generous.”

I spun around, half expecting Emma to tell me she was joking. But she wasn’t.

“I know you think he ain’t been fair,” she added. “But Lula Bell’s a sight better’n nothin’, you gotta admit, and he didn’t hafta go that far. The good Lord’d have us to show kindness, even when it ain’t the first thing on our minds.”

“All right,” I relented, still angry. “But what could we possibly give them?”

“I’ll have to study on that. Not gonna be easy just yet to make a pot a’ anythin’ big enough to feed that crew.” She rose to her knees with some effort and began brushing off Willard’s trousers. Sam moved immediately to help her up.