Copyright
Text copyright © 2010 by Valerie Sherrard
Published in Canada by Fitzhenry & Whiteside, 195 Allstate Parkway, Markham, Ontario L3R 4T8. Published in the United States by Fitzhenry & Whiteside, 311 Washington Street, Brighton, Massachusetts 02135
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Fitzhenry & Whiteside Limited, 195 Allstate Parkway, Markham, Ontario L3R 4T8.
eISBN 978-1-55455-934-3
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Sherrard, Valerie
Tumbleweed skies / Valerie Sherrard.
ISBN 978-1-55455-113-2
I. Title.
PS8587.H3867T86 2009 jC813'.6 C2009-905581-3
Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data (U.S.)
Sherrard, Valerie.
Tumbleweed skies / Valerie Sherrard
[160] p. : cm.
Summary: Ellie’s grandmother doesn’t want her around the farm, but times are tough, and her salesman father can’t take her on the road. Ellie’s challenge is to break through her grandmother’s isolation and find kinship among strangers.
ISBN: 978-1-55455-113-2 (pbk.)
1. Grandmothers— Juvenile fiction. 2. Farm life— Juvenile fiction. I. Title.
[Fic] dc22 PZ7.S547 2009
Contents
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Acknowledgements
Dedication
With much love for my beautiful granddaughters Emilee, Ericka, and Veronicka
One
I could tell right away that this wasn't a house that wanted me.
It was a bright, sunny day, but that didn't help much. The place seemed cold and unfriendly. You could tell that the outside had been painted once or twice, but years of prairie wind and sun had stripped it almost bare. And even the barn and shed and all the fields around it couldn't save the house from looking a little lost.
As we got closer, I could see that the curtains were dark and dull. The flowerbeds along the front of the house were empty, except for a few dying weeds.
Daddy slid out of the car with me right behind him, and we started toward the door. He reached out to take my hand but I pretended not to notice. I'd decided that if I had to be brave (and I'd promised Daddy I would), I might as well start right then and there. Reaching into the pocket on my skirt, I found the brand new 1954 penny Daddy had given me. I rubbed it for luck, like my friend Judy does when she has a penny.
We walked slowly, which I hoped would give that penny enough time to work, but even so we seemed to reach the doorstep in a flash. Daddy cleared his throat and knocked. He smiled down at me.
Then the door opened and there she was. Grandmother Acklebee. She looked back and forth at us for a long minute before speaking.
"Come in," she said, but there was no welcome in her voice. She stepped back, letting out a heavy breath that made her shoulders sag inward like a balloon deflating.
"The child looks half starved," she said. She shook her head and sighed again before showing us to a dark and hazy room. A large brown couch and matching armchair were crowded into the room, along with a big clunky coffee table and end tables. It seemed that there was barely space to hold it all.
Grandma crossed the floor, her thick black shoes clunking with each step. She pulled a cord on a lamp and a dim bulb came on. It didn't do much to brighten the room.
"Sit here," she told us, pointing to the couch. She settled into the chair, adjusted herself a bit, and then looked me over like she was seeing me for the first time.
I sat and wondered if it would be all right to ask for a glass of water. Daddy had told me not to ask for anything, but maybe water would be okay. My throat was real dry from the long drive all the way from Moose Jaw. Country roads on the prairies are pretty dusty by the end of June.
I decided to wait it out for a bit. Probably, she'd offer us something before long. Most people give me milk or lemonade when I visit them with my father, and usually a snack too, like a biscuit, or brown bread and cheese, or a cookie. But when she spoke, she never said a single word about anything to eat or drink.
"So," she said, looking me over again. "I always knew it would happen one day, that you'd come begging."
"Begging!" I exclaimed. "I never even asked for a drink of water, and I'm as dry as a dust bowl."
"I was speaking," she told me, "to your father."
"Oh." How was I supposed to have known that? After all, she'd been looking at me while she talked. Even so, I knew I'd blurted out the wrong thing. I thought quick and said one of the mannerly things Daddy had taught me when I was a little kid.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am." I smiled too, to show her I could be a good sport about having my thirst ignored.
She turned to my father. "So, you are not so proud now, are you?"
"I suppose not," Daddy said.
"Suppose? There is no supposing," she said. She crossed her arms and looked like she was waiting for something.
"No, Mrs., ah, Mother Acklebee, I don't guess there is. If you got my letter, you know why I'm here, and you know I've got nowhere else to turn. Someone's got to care for Ellie. Being kin and all, I was hoping you'd find it in your heart to take her in. Like I said in the letter, it would only be until I can get on my feet again."
Daddy had just taken a new job, traveling around and selling pots and pans for the Marvelous Cookware Company. That's the name of them and I guess they're probably marvelous all right, but I can't say for sure because we don't have a set.
"She seems a saucy sort of child," Grandma said.
"No, ma'am. She's a good girl," he told her. His face got a little red. "Sometimes she gets a bit eager, is all."
"I don't like children who speak out of turn," she said.
"Ellie knows her manners," Daddy insisted. "Don't you, Ellie?"
"Yes, sir." I knew I had to say it, to show that I really did have good manners and such because, like Daddy just said, there was nowhere else for me to go. But I sure wished I could have just up and said what I really thought, which wasn't nearly as mannerly.
"And you have nowhere else to go?" Grandma said.
"Nowhere," Daddy repeated. His voice was tired and quiet.
She stood up, so we did too. She looked at me for a long minute and then back at my father. She almost smiled.
"No," she said.
Two
Daddy stood there staring at her, looking helpless and beaten. I could see his jaw working, like he was chewing gum, and I thought he might say something to her, but he didn't. Instead, he picked up his hat from the coffee table and reached down with his other hand, giving me a little nudge toward the doorway.
I can't say I was sorry to go, turning down the hall and walking—head high—to the door we'd come through when we first got there. I don't know if my grandmother came behind us or not, because I never stopped or looked back.
Instead, I made a beeline for the car and hopped in—on the driver's side. The passenger door hasn't opened right since Hank Layton backed his truck into it last year. Hank told Daddy he'd pay to ge
t it fixed as soon as he had the money. I guess he hasn't had it yet. Anyway, I crawled across the seat and plopped down in my spot.
But Daddy didn't get in after me. I turned to see why, and there he was, walking toward a man who was crossing the field, headed in our direction. The man looked to be around Daddy's age or a bit older.
They reached each other and shook hands. Then they stood there talking and talking for ages and ages. When they finally came over to the car, the stranger leaned down and peered in at me.
"Ellie, this here is your Uncle Roger," Daddy said.
I said hello and tried not to show my surprise at the way he looked.Most of him was tanned good and dark from working in the sun, but the left side of his face was all wrinkled and puckered, and as pale as a frog's belly.
"How you doin' there, Ellie?"
"Fine, thank you, sir." I made my mouth smile.
"Uncle Roger," Daddy reminded me.
"Uncle Roger," I said.
"I reckon you're wonderin' what happened to my face," Uncle Roger said.
I felt like I'd been caught doing something awful bad, and there was no way out. Daddy says it's wrong to lie, but telling the truth didn't seem the right thing to do just then either. Luckily, he didn't wait for me to answer.
"Got burned a while back, when my barn caught fire," he said. "Had to go in to save the cows."
"Yes, sir, Uncle Roger," I said.
"Got 'em all out," he told me. "But it earned me this here lifelong souvenir."
He reached up and rubbed the scar with three fingers. I was finding it hard to swallow.
"It was no big loss anyhow," he chuckled. "I never was much to look at in the first place. Now, your ma—she was the looker in the family."
"Yes, sir," I said. I couldn't take my eyes off the side of his face that had been burned. I could see that even though the skin was creased, it was also strangely smooth.
"You remember that your mom was your Uncle Roger's little sister," my father said.
It hadn't occurred to me one way or the other, but I nodded and finally managed to pull my eyes away from my uncle's face.
"Anyway, it was good to see you again, Roger," Daddy was saying. He began to add that we'd better get moving along, but Uncle Roger spoke up.
"Be a darned shame to head off right now. Why, it's mealtime, and 'sides that, there's nowhere to put up overnight in these parts, unless you want to put yourself at the mercy of Mrs. Minnabow and her boarding house, and I don't recommend that.
"You just wait here a minute and I'll talk to Ma. I'm sure she's just bein' stubborn. Can't see her refusin' you a meal and a place to stay, at least for a night."
Daddy agreed to wait and see, but he slid into the seat beside me just the same. Like me, I think he figured Uncle Roger was just wasting his breath. We were both surprised when he came out to the car a few minutes later and told us to come on back in and wash up for supper.
Three
I could see that Daddy had to fight to make himself get out of the car and go back into that house. I acted like I didn't notice, but I did. And I knew why he was doing it, too.
We were broke, that's why. His job at the mill had disappeared with a bunch of layoffs a while back, and he hadn't been able to find anything else for months, not until he'd signed on with the Marvelous Cookware Company.
It was temporary, he'd told me. Just until the harvest when the mill would go back to full operation. Then everything would be normal again and he wouldn't have to drag me around the countryside trying to find somewhere for me to stay while he sold his Marvelous pots and pans.
In the meantime, a meal wasn't something we could afford to turn down. We'd been living off jam sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper since we left home, and even they were just about gone. What little money we had was needed for gas so Daddy could drive around and sell Marvelous Cookware and get us back on our feet.
So we went inside and Daddy told Grandma that we were much obliged to her. We washed our hands real good to get the dust off and waited quietly until Grandma called us to the table.
I was reaching for the glass of water in front of my plate when I felt a sharp slap on my hand.
"In this house," Grandma told me, "we ask the Good Lord to bless our food before we eat."
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm sorry." The sight and smell of the food—boiled potatoes, beets, and pork hocks—was making my mouth water, but I bowed my head obediently.
Grandma said grace, but after that she was silent for the rest of the meal. She didn't speak or look up from her plate. You'd have thought that food was the most fascinating thing in the world, the way she studied it.
Uncle Roger just plain ignored her, talking about the weather and this and that, and acting like everything was perfectly normal.
"Got yourself an Oldsmobile, I see," Uncle Roger said to Daddy at one point.
"A '48 Futuramic," Daddy agreed. "Got a real deal on this beauty.What year's your Ford?"
"She's a '47," Uncle Roger answered, spooning more beets onto his plate. "Best pickup I ever had. Your car get good mileage?"
"Not bad," Daddy said. "I just hope gas won't go up while I'm doing this sales job. Twenty-five cents a gallon is high enough."
"We don't talk about money at the dinner table," Grandma muttered without looking up. And that was the single, solitary thing she said the whole meal.
When we'd finished eating, Daddy and Uncle Roger went outside to stretch their legs. I was left in the kitchen to help with the dishes. I picked up the drying towel and lifted the clean plates and glasses from the drain tray, doing my best not to stand too close to my grandmother.
"Your uncle," she said after we'd finished, "wants you to stay."
I felt bunches of cloth in my hands and realized I was holding onto the sides of my skirt. I'm not really a skirt kind of girl, but Daddy said I should wear it to meet my relations.
"Stop that fidgeting," Grandma said.
"Yes, ma'am," I said and unclenched my fists, letting the orange and brown plaid folds fall back into place.
"You will help out in the house and do what you are told. There will be no saucy talk, no noise, and no touching things that do not belong to you. We eat at mealtimes only. You will not help yourself to anything or go into the fridge. You will make your bed properly every morning."
"Yes, ma'am," I said. I tried to smile but it was hard because there were tears trying to fill up my eyes.
"I will give you this one chance and that's all," she said.
I wanted to tell her that I didn't want her stupid chance, that I'd rather sleep in the trunk of Daddy's car and live on jam sandwiches for the rest of the summer than be in her mean, dark house. But I couldn't.
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "Thank you, Grandma."
The look on Grandma's face might have made me laugh, except I was even more surprised to hear the word Grandma coming out of my mouth than she was. She didn't say anything, though. Instead, she went to the back door and called out for Uncle Roger.
Before he got there, Grandma sent me down the hall. I wasn't sure where to go when I got to the end, so I just stood off to the side, out of sight. It wasn't on purpose, but it turned out that I could hear their conversation pretty clearly from there.
"I think this is a mistake," Grandma told Uncle Roger, "but since you're so set on it, I've decided to let the child stay."
"I'm glad," Uncle Roger said. "She's Maggie's girl, Ma. We owe it to her."
"We owe nothing."
"Well, it'll be nice anyway, having a little one around."
"Humph," Grandma said, "I know one thing. I raised my family without shoving my children off on anyone else. An old woman needs her peace."
I was hoping Daddy would stay at Grandma's too, at least for the first night, but he didn't. He said he was too restless to sleep, and he meant to drive right through the night, clear across Saskatchewan to his territory.
I asked him to show it to me, even though he'd already done that twice be
fore. Daddy took out the map and unfolded it on the hood of the car.
"Now, where's Saskatchewan?" he asked. I pointed to it and he nodded.
"My territory is this triangle of land right here, smack dab on the Alberta border," he said, tracing his finger from Battleford to Meadow Lake to Lloydminster.
"But what if you get lost there?" I asked.
"No need to worry about that," Daddy said. "I'll have my map with me the whole time. Now, you be a good girl and listen to your grandma while I'm gone. Do what she tells you and I'll be back for you as soon as I can."
I said goodbye and I didn't even cry…but he was still right there in front of me then. Just saying words like goodbye isn't the same as seeing a car drive away, its back to you, getting farther and farther until you can't even see the puff of dust behind it.
Four
I woke up the next morning with a thought already coming into my head, and that thought was I'm in a strange place. For one thing, as soon as I opened my eyes I could see that I was looking at the wrong ceiling. There was no round white light in the middle; this ceiling was dingy and yellowed, with a big, dark-edged stain in one spot.
As I stared up, a feeling came over me like I might have to cry. But I held it back. Twice, I closed my eyes and opened them again, but nothing had changed. Slowly I let my eyes wander around the room, taking in the faded wallpaper, the dark, bulky dresser, the window, and the door.
At home, the window is over my bed. I like to start out every morning by standing up on my bed and pressing my nose against the glass. That way, I can see right off what kind of show the new day is putting on.
In this room, the window was on the wall to my right and it wasn't that high up. I guessed I could go look out if I wanted, even though I knew I wasn't going to see the green fence and the top of the shed next door, like I would have seen from my room at home.
I got out of bed and crossed to the window expecting nothing but a plain old field and barn. They were there, all right, but there was something else, too, and it was moving. It was a dark golden color, and as I got focused on it I could see that it was a dog. Only, there was something wrong with its head—at least I thought there was at first.
Tumbleweed Skies Page 1
