appetite was poor. When she could afford it, she
gave all the children cod liver oil, a thankless chore just getting them to
lick the fishy oil from a teaspoon without gagging. She didn't know if cod
liver oil would help this boy or not. How could anything put meat on a child's
bones if he refused to eat?
Bobby
came over and touched Ralph's head.
Elizabeth
spoke softly to him and patted the davenport.
"Climb
up here with me, sweetheart."
Bobby
stayed by his mother, watching Ralph Channing nurse.
LaDaisy
had been about to say that Daniel would never build a cradle for any other
baby. But perhaps he might, when she told him how kind Elizabeth was to their
children. Besides, who was she to know what Daniel would or wouldn't do when he
made up his mind?
When
Ralph had nursed his fill and fallen asleep, LaDaisy closed her brassiere and
rose to pass him back to his mother.
Elizabeth
placed her son against her shoulder, patted and crooned. She smiled as LaDaisy
snapped her smock.
"Oh,"
she said, "we mustn't forget to bring in the milk and eggs. They should go
right in the icebox."
LaDaisy
took Bobby's hand and led him outdoors, his small bare feet running to keep up.
They returned with a gallon lard can of fresh milk and a sack of large brown
eggs. She'd fix jamboree for tomorrow's supper. Too bad Daniel wouldn't be here
to eat one of his favorite dishes, the scrambled mixture of eggs, onions,
peppers, and tomatoes. But LaDaisy knew she could always eat her husband's
share. With two nursing babies, her appetite was enormous.
Was
Daniel getting jamboree and pap, the simple chocolate pudding his grandmother
had often served the kids for breakfast? Did anyone else know how to cook
things the way he liked them? Or care?
She
watched from the front door as Elizabeth laid her son beside her on the
passenger seat, started the auto and drove up the road in a cloud of dust.
In
the kitchen, she pried up the tight lid of the milk can with a table knife,
then poured off the thick yellow cream to save for making butter.
She
poured herself a jelly glass of milk and offered Bobby some, which he declined
with a frown and a shake of his head. She opened the icebox; the ice was almost
gone. She sighed, knowing she'd have to dig into her precious store of pennies
to buy another block. Bobby reached in the ice pan below and found a sliver of
ice to suck on.
"You
eat ice, but won't drink milk. What'll I do with you?"
In
winter the Tomelin family saved the price of ice by storing perishables in a
special window icebox Daniel had built. But summer was expensive. Ice didn't
last long in the Missouri heat and humidity. Food spoiled quickly. Of course,
now there wasn't much food left to spoil. They were scraping the bottom of the
bowl.
Daniel
had delivered ice to the community when he and LaDaisy first met, carrying
burlap-wrapped blocks over his shoulder all day. Some blocks had weighed a
hundred pounds, and by the end of the day, he could barely straighten up. But
he'd enjoyed the work during hot weather, when the ice melted and soaked his
shirt.
LaDaisy
removed her card from behind the bread box and placed it in the kitchen window
so the iceman could see the number. Tomorrow he'd deliver a twenty-five-pound
block of ice.
Chapter 5
Daniel
awoke with a jolt as a loud rumble and shrill whistle signaled the train
slowing to a crawl. The great wheels screeched on the rails as he glanced
toward the open door, thinking the night had passed too quickly. But it was
still dark outside, with a heavy mist hanging in the air.
He searched
the floor of the boxcar for his cap and put it on. Stretched his legs. Scraped
a fingernail across his front teeth. Rolled down the long sleeves of his
threadbare shirt, brushed them off and re-rolled them past his elbows. Standing,
he struggled for balance in the swaying car, then carefully made his way to the
open doorway to relieve his full bladder. Closing his fly, he braced himself
and stared out at the dark
gave all the children cod liver oil, a thankless chore just getting them to
lick the fishy oil from a teaspoon without gagging. She didn't know if cod
liver oil would help this boy or not. How could anything put meat on a child's
bones if he refused to eat?
Bobby
came over and touched Ralph's head.
Elizabeth
spoke softly to him and patted the davenport.
"Climb
up here with me, sweetheart."
Bobby
stayed by his mother, watching Ralph Channing nurse.
LaDaisy
had been about to say that Daniel would never build a cradle for any other
baby. But perhaps he might, when she told him how kind Elizabeth was to their
children. Besides, who was she to know what Daniel would or wouldn't do when he
made up his mind?
When
Ralph had nursed his fill and fallen asleep, LaDaisy closed her brassiere and
rose to pass him back to his mother.
Elizabeth
placed her son against her shoulder, patted and crooned. She smiled as LaDaisy
snapped her smock.
"Oh,"
she said, "we mustn't forget to bring in the milk and eggs. They should go
right in the icebox."
LaDaisy
took Bobby's hand and led him outdoors, his small bare feet running to keep up.
They returned with a gallon lard can of fresh milk and a sack of large brown
eggs. She'd fix jamboree for tomorrow's supper. Too bad Daniel wouldn't be here
to eat one of his favorite dishes, the scrambled mixture of eggs, onions,
peppers, and tomatoes. But LaDaisy knew she could always eat her husband's
share. With two nursing babies, her appetite was enormous.
Was
Daniel getting jamboree and pap, the simple chocolate pudding his grandmother
had often served the kids for breakfast? Did anyone else know how to cook
things the way he liked them? Or care?
She
watched from the front door as Elizabeth laid her son beside her on the
passenger seat, started the auto and drove up the road in a cloud of dust.
In
the kitchen, she pried up the tight lid of the milk can with a table knife,
then poured off the thick yellow cream to save for making butter.
She
poured herself a jelly glass of milk and offered Bobby some, which he declined
with a frown and a shake of his head. She opened the icebox; the ice was almost
gone. She sighed, knowing she'd have to dig into her precious store of pennies
to buy another block. Bobby reached in the ice pan below and found a sliver of
ice to suck on.
"You
eat ice, but won't drink milk. What'll I do with you?"
In
winter the Tomelin family saved the price of ice by storing perishables in a
special window icebox Daniel had built. But summer was expensive. Ice didn't
last long in the Missouri heat and humidity. Food spoiled quickly. Of course,
now there wasn't much food left to spoil. They were scraping the bottom of the
bowl.
Daniel
had delivered ice to the community when he and LaDaisy first met, carrying
burlap-wrapped blocks over his shoulder all day. Some blocks had weighed a
hundred pounds, and by the end of the day, he could barely straighten up. But
he'd enjoyed the work during hot weather, when the ice melted and soaked his
shirt.
LaDaisy
removed her card from behind the bread box and placed it in the kitchen window
so the iceman could see the number. Tomorrow he'd deliver a twenty-five-pound
block of ice.
Chapter 5
Daniel
awoke with a jolt as a loud rumble and shrill whistle signaled the train
slowing to a crawl. The great wheels screeched on the rails as he glanced
toward the open door, thinking the night had passed too quickly. But it was
still dark outside, with a heavy mist hanging in the air.
He searched
the floor of the boxcar for his cap and put it on. Stretched his legs. Scraped
a fingernail across his front teeth. Rolled down the long sleeves of his
threadbare shirt, brushed them off and re-rolled them past his elbows. Standing,
he struggled for balance in the swaying car, then carefully made his way to the
open doorway to relieve his full bladder. Closing his fly, he braced himself
and stared out at the dark
Similar Books
