Julia's Last Hope (3 page)
“I what?” demanded Jennifer.
Felicity fumbled for words. “You—you don’t have—have as many things to put away.”
“That’s because I throw out the junk,” Jennifer stated.
“It’s not junk,” Felicity insisted.
Jennifer sighed. She knew Felicity was more sentimental about things than she was. At the same time she knew that Felicity was often more impatient with people. It was people and their feelings that mattered most to Jennifer, and now it was Mama she was thinking of. Mama had asked Felicity to clean her closet, and Mama would be upset if it was not done. And Felicity might even be assigned a second chore if the first was not completed in the allotted time. Yet Jennifer hated to get caught in the middle. She had to gently maneuver, suggest, and involve Felicity, although Jennifer would have preferred to work on the mess herself. But that wouldn’t set well with Mama.
Jennifer felt trapped.
“I have a little extra space on my shelf,” she sighed. “Why don’t we put everything you want to keep in a small box and set it in my closet?”
Felicity looked relieved.
It took some skill to fit them all in the box, but they managed to do so. Felicity still had her treasures. Jennifer stacked a few of her own hat boxes to make the extra one fit on her shelf. Finally the task was done. Felicity’s closet looked as neat and tidy as her own, Jennifer thought. And there hadn’t been a scene over the doing. She felt relief as she closed the closet door and suggested to Felicity that they get some lemonade to take with them to the back porch.
As they passed the east parlor they heard voices. “That sounds like Papa!” exclaimed Felicity.
Jennifer glanced at the hall clock. “He shouldn’t be home at this time of day,” she reminded Felicity.
Felicity tossed her head and hurried toward the door. What did it matter what time it was? It was always nice to have Papa home. Perhaps he had some delightful surprise. Perhaps—
The two girls arrived at the parlor door just in time to hear the stunned voice of their father say, “The mill is closing.”
“Closing? What do you mean?” Julia asked, her voice calm and even.
John’s voice was not as calm as he answered her. “Closing! Shutting down! Finished!” he declared, his words tight and clipped.
Julia understood then. Not about the mill, but about John. John was worried. She had to do something to help him. She crossed the room and laid a hand on his tense arm.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It will be all right.”
John sank into a nearby chair. He shook his head as though to contradict his wife’s statement of assurance.
She sat beside him, her hand stroking his sleeve.
“Everything will be all right,” she insisted.
“You don’t understand,” he argued.
“Yes, I think I do,” she responded.
He looked directly into her eyes. “What did I say?” he challenged her. He had never spoken to her in such a manner before.
Julia swallowed hard. Then, with a voice as steady as she could summon, answered, “You said the mill is closing. Is going to shut down. Is finished.” She found it difficult to keep her chin from quivering, her eyes from filling with tears.
“You must be in shock, just as I was. You still don’t understand. But when—”
“I am not in shock,” she said firmly. “I am in my right mind. The mill will close. That means you will be without a job.”
She held his eyes evenly, daring him to challenge her again. “I know we will be fine,” she insisted, and gave his sleeve a tiny tug, hoping to bring them both back to reality. “You can get another job. You have fine references.”
“Jule—all I know is lumber,” he reminded her, his voice patient again in spite of their circumstance.
“And that is enough,” Julia said.
“The mill is closing, Julia.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I knew we didn’t have as much lumber as we should, but this…” His voice trailed away; then he looked directly at Julia. “If the timber supply is gone, there will not be another mill opening up to take its place.”
Julia would not be deterred. “There are still mills in other towns. There will always be mills. The world can’t get along without lumber.”
“The other mills already have workers.”
“If there is no job in lumber—you can learn something else. You have a good mind—and a strong back. There will be other jobs—somewhere.”
“Yes,” he admitted, “I could—if it wasn’t for the house.”
“We can sell the house and buy another,” offered Julia with a shrug of her slight shoulders. She hoped that John did not read the agony in her eyes. She loved their house. Their home.
He shook his head slowly, pain showing in his eyes. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. Without the mill, the town will die. There will be no sale for the houses, any of them. The property will be worthless—useless. It will become a ghost town.”
His words made Julia’s breath catch in her throat. Her hand on his sleeve trembled slightly and her eyes misted. Then her chin lifted and determination returned to her eyes.
“God has always provided for us,” she declared fervently. “He will not forsake us now—when we need Him the most. Although the news is—is crushing, He will show us what we must do. Of that I am sure.”
Her words, spoken with such conviction, eased the tension in John’s face. “Oh, Jule,” he whispered softly and drew her into his arms.
“You’ll see. Everything will work out.” She stroked his hair and pressed her cheek against his.
Neither of them saw the two girls standing in the doorway. And neither heard them retreat as they turned as one and left for their own room.
Jennifer broke the silence. Her face was ashen, her eyes filled with fear. “What will we do?” she whispered hoarsely.
Felicity had thrown herself face down on her bed and was sobbing uncontrollably.
Jennifer hastened to her and placed a protective arm around her sister’s shaking shoulders.
“Shh, shh. It’s all right.”
“I don’t want to move away,” sobbed Felicity. “I like it here. My friends—”
Jennifer stroked her sister’s long blond hair. “We might not have to move,” she soothed.
“You heard Papa,” sobbed Felicity.
“You heard Mama,” responded Jennifer. “God will show us what to do. He knows all about the mill. Perhaps Papa will find another job—”
“You heard Papa,” Felicity countered. “The mill is all he knows.”
“You heard Mama,” Jennifer repeated. “Papa could learn another trade.”
“We would still have to move,” Felicity argued, her sobs growing louder.
“Stop! Stop! Listen to me,” Jennifer commanded, shaking Felicity by the shoulder. “Mama and Papa will hear you and they will feel even worse than they do now. We’ve got to think about them right now. Please stop!”
Felicity could not stop, but she did quiet down a bit. Her sobs became softer, her body more relaxed.
Jennifer walked to the window. She lifted a trembling hand to brush aside the pale blue curtains and look out over the scene below. Her eyes scanned the street, the neighboring houses, the small town with its church spire and school yard, the mountainside that rose in the distance. She loved it here too. Tears welled up in her eyes. She would hate it so if they had to leave. Why did the mill have to close? Why couldn’t things continue as they always had? They had lived here for as long as she could remember. Surely there was some way for them to continue living the life they had always known. Her hand relaxed, and the curtain fell back into place. Jennifer squared her shoulders and turned to Felicity. “If we have to go—we must make it as easy for Mama and Papa as possible.”
Felicity brushed at her tears and nodded her head.
“You can take your treasures with you,” continued Jennifer, trying to console her brokenhearted sister.
A fresh torrent of tears ran down Felicity’s cheeks. “But I—I can’t take my friends or—”
“But if everyone has to move—perhaps our friends will be going with us,” Jennifer said to her sister.
“Where?” Felicity sobbed.
“I—I don’t know. To wherever we have to go. To another mill. Their papas work in the mill too,” Jennifer reminded Felicity.
Felicity began mopping up. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose noisily. Jennifer was glad that the worst of the storm was spent. She crossed to her sister and laid a loving hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll be all right,” she assured Felicity again, wishing with all her heart that she felt as confident as her words sounded.
Felicity nodded. She pushed herself up from the bed and straightened her skirts. Then she went to the dresser, picked up a hairbrush, and brushed her hair into place. “I’m going to go wash my face,” she told Jennifer. When she returned a short while later she showed no trace of her tears.
Jennifer wished that she could dismiss the incident as easily. Inside, she still felt knotted, twisted. In spite of her brave words to Felicity, she did not feel assurance about their future.
“Let’s ask Mama if we can go get that green—” began Felicity.
Jennifer stopped her with a quick shake of her head. “Not now!” she exclaimed. “Papa has no job.”
Felicity looked surprised, as though she had already forgotten their circumstance, but then her eyes softened and she nodded her head in agreement.
“I guess that would be unthinkable,” she finished lamely. “Well then, let’s ask if we can go to the drugstore for a soda,” she continued. “Surely we can still afford that.”
Jennifer gave her a dark look, and Felicity stared back at her.
“Felicity Harrigan,” said Jennifer sternly, “we are thirteen years of age. Surely we can be understanding when our parents are in trouble.”
Felicity shrugged. “Okay, okay,” she said impatiently, “so what are you going to do to make things right, Miss Know-It-All?”
“I—I don’t know it all,” stammered Jennifer. “I—I just know that we can’t be asking for things when Papa is without a job. There will be no money—”
Felicity’s eyes brightened. “That’s it!” she squealed, and threw her arms around Jennifer’s shoulders.
“That’s what?” questioned Jennifer.
“Jobs! We are old enough to have jobs. We can help Papa.”
Jennifer held herself in check for a moment; then she hugged Felicity in return.
“Of course!” she agreed. “Of course. We can find jobs.”
“Let’s not tell them,” suggested Felicity; “not until we each have found a place to work.”
“But—” began Jennifer.
“We will talk to Hettie. Tell her that we are going up town for a soda and she can tell Mama.”
“But—” began Jennifer again. She would not lie—even to conceal their plans of helping the family.
“And we
will
get a soda,” continued Felicity, walking to her dresser and opening a drawer. “Here,” she said, producing some coins. “I have enough for a soda. It’s from what Papa gave me last week.”
Jennifer had never known Felicity to keep any of her spending money. But there were the coins in her hand. It reminded Jennifer that she too had money stashed in her drawer. But even as she thought of it she decided to leave the money where it was. Who knew how soon her papa would find another job? Perhaps her money would be needed for things other than sodas.
“Okay,” she finally conceded. “Let’s go see Hettie.”
As they proceeded to the kitchen, Jennifer’s mind was troubled. Never before had they made their own plans and gone off to the drug store without asking permission from their mother. Jennifer hoped that Felicity’s idea—as good as it seemed—did not get them both in trouble.
The news of the mill’s closing had traveled fast. The whole town was in shock. As Felicity and Jennifer sipped a common soda at the drugstore they heard the somber, low voices of men and the frightened, shrill voices of women. It seemed to be the topic of all conversations.
“What on earth will we do?” they heard one woman ask. “We were just getting back on our feet after all of those medical bills. Now this.”
Her friend tried to be reassuring, but her own voice broke as she answered, “I guess we’ll have to go elsewhere. Start over.”
“Start over?” questioned the first, her voice quivering. “We’re too old to start over.”
“What you plannin’?” a man asked his neighbor.
“Don’t know. Just don’t know,” answered the second. “Right now my wife is sick. I came to pick up some medicine. Doc says the change might be good for her. The smoke here has always bothered her.”
The first man nodded. “Maybe it will,” he agreed, but there was doubt in his eyes. What good was a change if there was no money with which to buy the needed medicine?
“Came at a bad time,” said a third man.
“For everyone,” agreed the first, his eyes heavy with the worry of it.
As they listened to the people talk, Jennifer and Felicity sensed more than ever the seriousness of the situation. Their problem was not an isolated one. The whole town was affected, just as their father had said. What would happen to all of them? Was there anything two young girls could do?
It was Jennifer who shook them from their despair.
“If we are going to find jobs, we’d better hurry,” she whispered to Felicity. “Everyone our age might soon be looking for work.”
Felicity stopped flirting with the young man stocking the drugstore shelves and jumped to her feet. Jennifer was right.
“You take this side of the street and I’ll take the other side,” she ordered Jennifer and then quickly reversed her decision. “No, you take the other side, I’ll take this side.” It would be wonderful if the druggist needed more help to fill his shelves, she was thinking.
But the druggist was not interested in another clerk—not even a soda jerk. He smiled at Felicity and shook his head sadly.
“Don’t know how much longer I’ll be here,” he admitted. “Not the right time to be hiring.”
All of the merchants along the little street said much the same thing. No one was hiring. Felicity pushed back her hair from her warm face and trudged on. She hoped that Jennifer was having better luck. When the girls met at the end of the main street, however, Jennifer’s report was no more encouraging than Felicity’s.
