tell Daddy what I had heard Mama and Granny Grace say about Laramie’s mama leaving in August. Granny Grace told me after Mama went to heaven that it was a sad thing children had to think about things like funerals and graveyards. Granny would probably add Laramie’s mama to her list of things children ought not to have to think about.
We rode the rest of the way to the Blue Cow in silence, too sad to say anything. I knew Daddy didn’t like what he saw, Mr. Fields yanking on Laramie’s arm like that. Daddy always said hands were for taking care of people, not hurting them. And much as he wanted to, Daddy couldn’t fix every hurt there was in the world. Mine included.
C HAPTER F IVE
D ADDY HAD TO work Sunday morning, so we went with Granny to church and then out to her farm for lunch. When we drove in, Grady met us all excited like, trying to wag his tail, but it was mostly sweeping the driveway. That old hound dog loved nothing more than chasing guinea fowl with Chesler. Grady didn’t run too well since he got hit by a car, but he could almost keep up with Chesler. Granny and I stayed inside, looking through Christmas cookie recipes and keeping an eye on Chesler from the kitchen window.
Granny drove us back to town for pageant practice late Sunday afternoon. Almost as soon as we pulled out of the driveway, Granny said, “Chesler, let me hear you sing your song.”
When Chesler sang, his mind just went off somewhere else. Not many people had heard him besides Daddy, Granny Grace, and me. But I knew that when he sang at the Christmas pageant, it would make people cry, and then everybody would go home talking about that little Harding boy sounding just like his mama. Granny Grace, Aunt Susannah Hope, and Chesler, they all sang like Mama, but I didn’t. Guess God had to make some of us to listen.
Chesler practiced his solo all the way to Broad Street, his clear voice singing “All Is Well” even though we knew good and well it wasn’t. How could it be when Mama wasn’t here? It was like she was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.
I thought about Laramie when we drove past the motorcycle shop. Pastor Simmons always said that whatever happened, God knew best, but something was not right about a daddy fighting with his daughter or children growing up without their mama.
Granny Grace dropped us off at the front door of the church. “I’m going over to your Aunt Susannah’s, and I’ll be back to pick you up when practice is over.”
I hurried inside. I had to find Pastor Simmons to ask him something, but I didn’t want Granny to know about it. I was glad she didn’t stay at the church to watch us practice.
We were a little early. Chesler ran straight to the choir room and started practicing his solo with Miss Jan, so I wandered down the hallway to Pastor Simmons’s office. Even though I could hear his voice talking to some ladies in the kitchen, it seemed kind of spooky to be in the church hallway alone, without any other kids.
I knew Pastor Simmons would walk by his office and see me, so I went in and sat down to wait for him. I sat up straight and tall in the chair in front of his desk, looking around at all the bookshelves. I thought there was just one Holy Bible, but Pastor Simmons had more Bibles than Aunt Susannah Hope had catalogs. I was glad. With all those Bibles he was sure to know the answer to my question.
I really liked the photos on the wall behind his desk, all picturing local scenes. One showed the springtime when wild flowers bloom in the woods and everything turns bright green. The summer photo showed the bridge down at the lake. Mama would have liked the autumn picture of the waterfall where we used to picnic, with its red and gold sycamores. But I liked the winter picture best: our old stone church with a blanket of snow around it and red ribbons tied to the lampposts.
“Kate, is that you? What a nice surprise.” Just then Pastor Simmons came in smiling. He had blond, curly
We rode the rest of the way to the Blue Cow in silence, too sad to say anything. I knew Daddy didn’t like what he saw, Mr. Fields yanking on Laramie’s arm like that. Daddy always said hands were for taking care of people, not hurting them. And much as he wanted to, Daddy couldn’t fix every hurt there was in the world. Mine included.
C HAPTER F IVE
D ADDY HAD TO work Sunday morning, so we went with Granny to church and then out to her farm for lunch. When we drove in, Grady met us all excited like, trying to wag his tail, but it was mostly sweeping the driveway. That old hound dog loved nothing more than chasing guinea fowl with Chesler. Grady didn’t run too well since he got hit by a car, but he could almost keep up with Chesler. Granny and I stayed inside, looking through Christmas cookie recipes and keeping an eye on Chesler from the kitchen window.
Granny drove us back to town for pageant practice late Sunday afternoon. Almost as soon as we pulled out of the driveway, Granny said, “Chesler, let me hear you sing your song.”
When Chesler sang, his mind just went off somewhere else. Not many people had heard him besides Daddy, Granny Grace, and me. But I knew that when he sang at the Christmas pageant, it would make people cry, and then everybody would go home talking about that little Harding boy sounding just like his mama. Granny Grace, Aunt Susannah Hope, and Chesler, they all sang like Mama, but I didn’t. Guess God had to make some of us to listen.
Chesler practiced his solo all the way to Broad Street, his clear voice singing “All Is Well” even though we knew good and well it wasn’t. How could it be when Mama wasn’t here? It was like she was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.
I thought about Laramie when we drove past the motorcycle shop. Pastor Simmons always said that whatever happened, God knew best, but something was not right about a daddy fighting with his daughter or children growing up without their mama.
Granny Grace dropped us off at the front door of the church. “I’m going over to your Aunt Susannah’s, and I’ll be back to pick you up when practice is over.”
I hurried inside. I had to find Pastor Simmons to ask him something, but I didn’t want Granny to know about it. I was glad she didn’t stay at the church to watch us practice.
We were a little early. Chesler ran straight to the choir room and started practicing his solo with Miss Jan, so I wandered down the hallway to Pastor Simmons’s office. Even though I could hear his voice talking to some ladies in the kitchen, it seemed kind of spooky to be in the church hallway alone, without any other kids.
I knew Pastor Simmons would walk by his office and see me, so I went in and sat down to wait for him. I sat up straight and tall in the chair in front of his desk, looking around at all the bookshelves. I thought there was just one Holy Bible, but Pastor Simmons had more Bibles than Aunt Susannah Hope had catalogs. I was glad. With all those Bibles he was sure to know the answer to my question.
I really liked the photos on the wall behind his desk, all picturing local scenes. One showed the springtime when wild flowers bloom in the woods and everything turns bright green. The summer photo showed the bridge down at the lake. Mama would have liked the autumn picture of the waterfall where we used to picnic, with its red and gold sycamores. But I liked the winter picture best: our old stone church with a blanket of snow around it and red ribbons tied to the lampposts.
“Kate, is that you? What a nice surprise.” Just then Pastor Simmons came in smiling. He had blond, curly
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