Meanwhile Mama and Daddy bought another house down the street and around the corner, next to the creek. Mama liked it because it was two-story, and she thought every kid should have a house with stairs. Daddy liked it because he could stand on the back porch and almost cast his fly rod into the stream. One time I heard Mama tell him, “I don’t want to live in a dollhouse or a museum like Susannah Hope. I want our house to be alive.” I agreed.
After Grandpa died, Mama and Aunt Susannah Hope tried to talk Granny into moving back to town. Nothing doing. Granny Grace loved the farm, with its pond and trails and chickens, and so did I. “Grady keeps me company, and I don’t think the town would enjoy Red Top crowing at four in the morning,” Granny declared. And that was that.
Granny drove through town real slow on the way home from choir practice. “Just look at all those Christmas lights. They look even prettier in the snow.” We passed a lit-up manger scene in front of the Methodist church, and Granny said, “Can you believe it? Next weekend, there’ll be real live people and animals in that manger scene.”
Chesler asked, “Will they have a real live camel too?”
“I seriously doubt we have any camels in these parts. They prefer sand, not snow.”
Santa and his reindeer were blinking across the street in front of the bank. The way they blinked made Santa’s sleigh look like it was flying, but Chesler’s favorite was the giant snowman in front of the tire store. Every time Chesler saw it, he sang “Frosty, the Snowman.”
When we drove by the motorcycle place, Granny said, “Kate, your daddy’s been talking to me, and we were thinking about inviting the little Fields girl over to spend some time with you during the holidays. Somebody ought to be nice to that little girl, especially at Christmas.”
I guessed that was Granny’s way of saying we were going to be the somebody. Last summer Granny and I went down by her pond to pick blueberries for a pie. She said her neighbor was sick and a pie would make her feel better. Every week Granny took baskets of food to the poor families who lived in the hollers over by the river.
As we picked blueberries, I asked, “Granny, why are you kind to everybody?”
“Why, child, I’m building my mansion in heaven, and with every act of kindness, I’m adding another brick.”
Granny’s mansion is gonna be big and tall.
The bucket was nearly full of blueberries, and Granny was sweating and breathing hard. “Let’s rest a minute before we walk back to the farmhouse.” So she just sat right down on a log and motioned for me to sit next to her.
Then Granny started talking, and I never forgot what she said. “Katherine Joy, what’s wrong with this world is that folks live like this old earth is home. But it’s not. Living on this planet is like going camping. You pitch your tent, and you go berry picking or fishing or walking around in the woods or playing a game with your family. You don’t spend all your time trying to make the tent more beautiful or more comfortable, because it’s not home. Just a waste of your time, and you’d miss out on lots of things that would make you and somebody else feel real good. Remember, you’re just gonna spend a few nights in that old tent, then you’ll be going home.”
Then she wiggled a bit on that old log and looked straight at me. “Katherine Joy,” she said, “You live at 804 Creek Meadow, but that’s not your permanent address. That’s just your tent, and you’ll probably have a few more tents in your lifetime. But you remember, a couple of years ago you made a choice to live your life God’s way and accept what Christ did for you on the cross. That means your permanent address is in heaven, so don’t you be wasting time. You be like your mama, good and kind, always helping folks who hardly even have a tent. Then one of these days, you’re going to have the most beautiful mansion you can imagine to live in forever, and I’m going to be your next-door neighbor.” Granny laughed then and got up off that old rotten log, and we walked all the way home holding hands.
I didn’t understand it so much then, but I did when Mama died. Granny Grace knew Mama was going to heaven soon, and she was thinking about what Mama’s mansion might be like.
I was glad Granny Grace told me all that last summer. I didn’t want to waste any time. I wanted to gather some bricks for my mansion in heaven. I wanted to be Laramie’s Somebody, so I patted Granny on the back while she was driving and said, “Yes, ma’am. We can invite Laramie over anytime you want to.”
Granny Grace slowed down at the red light, and when she saw no one was coming, she just kept driving toward the farm.
Chesler stopped singing. “Granny Grace, is it okay now to run red lights?”
“No, it is not, but I need to get home in a hurry. Something’s in the oven, and if the deputy stops me, I’ll just invite him home with me for charred chicken pot pie.” Granny hardly slowed down when she turned off the dirt road onto the lane going down to her place. We rounded the curve to the carport leading out back on two wheels.
Grady met us before we could open the doors to the truck, and the smell of chicken pot pie met us at the back door. Pot pie was one of Daddy’s favorites, so Granny was going to make him smile tonight. Granny Grace laid her keys on the counter and put on her red Christmas apron and told us we could go look under her Christmas tree to see if there were any presents with our names on them. Chesler took off so fast he probably left skids marks on the oak floor trying to get to the tree first. When I walked into the room, I looked at the tree and stopped.
Chesler headed for the boxes and started pushing them, looking for his own name.
I grabbed his shoulder. “Quit what you’re doing and look. Look at the top of the tree.”
He crawled out backward from under the tree and rose up on his knees. His eyes got as big as saucers. “Is that the redbird Aunt Susannah gave us?”
“Uh-huh.”
Granny had put Aunt Susannah Hope’s redbird on top of her tree. But somehow, seeing that bird on the top of a Christmas tree didn’t bother me near as much as seeing it in a cage. And if it did, I wasn’t about to say a word about it.
Chesler didn’t say anything either. He just shrugged and went back to digging through the presents. I was right. Daddy smiled big when he smelled the chicken and saw the steam rising out of Granny Grace’s pot pie in the middle of the table. “A perfect ending to a perfect day.” That meant he’d had a quiet day at the station, with no injuries, accidents, or anybody real sick. Daddy liked quiet days. Mama used to ask him how his day was. “Fine, good, or perfect” meant nothing happened. But when he said, “Let’s talk about that later,” I knew it meant something not good. Daddy didn’t like to talk about bad things in front of me and Chesler.
After we ate, Daddy asked Granny if she had two pieces of paper and two pens. “It’s time Chesler and Kate wrote their letters to Santa. Got to mail them in the morning if they’re going to reach the North Pole in time. Christmas is coming up fast.”
Granny Grace brought the paper and pens to the table, and she sat down next to Chesler. He couldn’t write so fine, and Daddy said the writing had to be good so Santa Claus could read it. Chesler may not write very well, but he didn’t have any trouble telling Granny what to put on that list. New skates, a reel and rod, a cassette tape player for his room, and a sled. He just kept going, and Granny finally told him to slow down because Santa wouldn’t have room in his sleigh for any other children’s gifts.
I didn’t believe in Santa. I knew Granny Grace bought us the presents under her tree and the ones at our house would come from Daddy. But to play along, I took my pen and in my very best handwriting, I thanked Santa for all the art stuff he brought me last Christmas, the easel and drawing pencils and paint stuff and a sketch pad. And if Daddy was Santa, maybe my note would make him smile. Then I sat there a long time thinking, and finally I put only one thing on my list. Chesler was still telling Granny what to put down and what to erase, and Daddy just sat there quiet like, but I knew he was looking at my paper. He saw the word camera and my name at the bottom.
&n
bsp; “What kind of camera do you want?”
“It doesn’t really matter, just one that takes pictures.” I liked to draw, but I couldn’t draw much yet from just thinking about it or trying to see it in my head. But I knew if I had a camera, I could take pictures of things I wanted to draw, things like the redbird sitting in the cedar tree, or the daisies growing in the backyard, or maybe even a person.
“Santa ought to be able to find the best camera. Is there anything else you want to put on the list?”
I knew what I wanted most of all, but putting it down on a list for Santa Claus wouldn’t do any good. I just wanted Mama back. I wanted it more than anything.
When I was real young, I told Grandpa one time before he went to heaven that I wanted some ice cream. When he said he didn’t have any, I started crying and fussing. But he just said, “I don’t have any ice cream, Kate, and I’m sorry you’re not old enough yet for your wants not to hurt you.”
Grandpa was smart, but what he said didn’t make sense. What I wanted—Mama to come back—hurt a lot. And Daddy wanted the same thing, and his want made him sad. How old did you have to be not to hurt when you didn’t get what you wanted? Granny Grace was old, real old, but not getting what she wanted still hurt her. That was why she put that redbird on top of her tree.
Me and Chesler folded our letters and put them in an envelope. Daddy said he would address and mail the letters first thing in the morning. “Okay, go get your things together. We need to hit the road.”
We went to get our things, and I finished before Chesler. Daddy was helping Granny clear the table when I got back to the kitchen door. They didn’t know I was listening.
“I blew the car horn, and if Kate and Chesler hadn’t been with me, I think I would have stopped and had a talk with that guy. Nobody yanks on a little girl like that.”
“I can’t imagine what that child’s living in, her mother gone and her daddy treating her like that. Did you ever hear any more about her mother?”
“All I know is that no one’s seen her since she left in August. Rumor has it that she went back to her family in upstate New York. Nobody around here seems to know much about the Fields.”
“That’s got to be hard on a little girl. She really needs a friend. I’ve already talked to Kate about her, and she’s agreed to invite her over sometime during Christmas break.”
“You’re a good woman, Grace, and I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“I don’t say it enough, John, but I want you to know you’re doing a great job with the kids. What you’re doing is not easy.”
“No, it’s not. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I just never dreamed I’d be without Diana. Sometimes I reach for her in the middle of the night, or I think I hear her voice and turn to see. I look at the kids, and I still can’t believe she’s gone, and they’re growing up without her. Kate’s having to grow up fast without her mama, Grace.”
“I know, I know. She works hard at taking on responsibilities that aren’t really hers, but you have to let her, you know, and you have to let her be a little girl sometimes too.”
“That’s the hardest part, knowing when. She’s like a mother hen to Chesler most of the time, and then I look in on her sleeping some nights, and she looks like my little baby girl. I’m not sure she’s buying all this Santa stuff this year. I think her mama dying just took some of the magic out of her little-girl life.”
“You’re probably right about that, John.” Granny chuckled. “Diana made our lives more fun, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did. Man, I really miss her. I knew how sick she was for a year, and I still wasn’t prepared for her dying. My life’ll never be the same.”
“Your life will be different, but it will be good again, John. You hold on to that. It will be good again.”
I walked into the room. Granny was washing dishes, and Daddy was putting the milk in the refrigerator. “Got everything, little peep?”
“Yes, sir. Chesler’s coming.”
“Good. Granny tells me you’re inviting the little Fields girl over to play next week. I think that’ll be a good thing to do.”
“Granny said we could come out here to play.”
“She did, did she? Well, if she’s having chicken pot pie for lunch, then I’m coming to play too.” He patted Granny’s shoulder.
Chesler dragged his bag into the kitchen, and Granny dried her hands on her Christmas apron and followed us to the back door. She kissed Chesler, and she hugged Daddy and me. Granny’s got comfortable arms, like my favorite pillow. “Okay, you call Laramie and ask her if she can come on Tuesday.” Then I saw her wink at Daddy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALL THE WAY home Chesler talked about his Christmas list. “Man, when I get my new skates, I can cut figure eights on Granny Grace’s pond just like you, Daddy. But what if Santa thinks I shouldn’t have the train track and the rod and reel? I don’t know how he’s going to pick which one to bring.” Chesler was so wound up I wondered when he was going to stop to breathe. “I like them both, but if he can only bring one, let me think. I hope it’s the rod and reel, then when the pond thaws out, we can go fishing with my new fishing rod. And . . .” He sat in the backseat yapping like he thought someone was listening to him. When he quit talking, he started singing Christmas songs.
It had snowed most of the day, but finally it was slowing a bit. The streets were quiet, because most folks were home on Sunday night at nine o’clock. We had been gone all day, Daddy at work, and me and Chesler at church with Granny, so I knew the house would be cold.
When Daddy turned onto Creek Meadow, he said, “Nothing warms up a cold house like a fire. Let’s build us one, roast some marshmallows, and watch a movie.”
“But, Daddy, it’s bedtime,” I reminded him.
“Hey, did you forget? You’re out for the holidays, and I don’t have to go in so early tomorrow. Maybe we could just forget about bedtime tonight and sleep in tomorrow morning and have waffles for breakfast.”
That meant cold waffles . . . or cold eggs. Daddy hadn’t figured out how to cook yet so we never got both of them hot at the same time.
Daddy pulled up the driveway and pressed the button for our garage door. “I’m making chili tomorrow night because Uncle Luke’s coming home from medical school for the holidays, and he loves chili.” Daddy was always happy when his brother was around. Uncle Luke was the only close family Daddy had left, since his parents died before I was born and his aunts and uncles had moved away from the area. Two whole weeks with Uncle Luke. Maybe Miss Applegate would be coming over a lot. She could help me with my drawing.
We climbed out of the car, and Daddy let us in through the kitchen. “Go put on your pajamas, and I’ll get the fire started. Then we’ll have a family meeting and vote on what movie to watch.”
That meant it’d be a Western tonight. Daddy said we would take a vote, but he took turns voting with Chesler and then with me. So it wasn’t really voting. It was Chesler’s turn tonight. Most of the time I picked something Daddy and Chesler liked to watch anyway. Getting them to watch a movie kept them busy so I had time to think or draw.
We were running up the stairs when Daddy hollered, “Hey, you want popcorn or marshmallows?”
I yelled, “Popcorn!” I grabbed Chesler’s arm and gave him the eye.
Chesler yelled, “Marshmallows!”
That way we got both. When we got to the top of the stairs, we made our thumbs-up sign, curling our fingers and shaking hands and doing a thumbs-up and touching thumbs. Uncle Luke taught us that sign. He said that he and Daddy learned to do it when they were boys as a sign they were brothers and they stuck together.
Chesler could be annoying, but as his big sister I had to look out for him. That was on one of the lists Mama made for me. One list was about helping Daddy because Daddy wasn’t so good at remembering things, like taking out the trash before it smelled, and making the grocery list before we went shopping, and remembering everybody’s bir
thdays. Another list was about helping Chesler. I was five years older than Chesler, so I already knew things he didn’t know yet. Mama wanted me to help him learn to read, and to make sure he brushed his teeth and his hair, and to remind him about being kind so he could put smiley faces on his calendar.
And Mama wanted me to wake Chesler up and start the day happy. That was the hardest thing on my list.
As I put on my fuzzy slippers, I heard Chesler running down the stairs, and I could already smell popcorn. I headed for the den. I was right about the movie. Cowboys and Indians again. Chesler was the only kid I knew who didn’t like movies with cartoon characters. We grabbed the blankets Granny made for each of us and wrapped up. Then we sat lined up on the sofa like blackbirds on a fence and passed the popcorn basket back and forth ’til it was all gone. When Daddy reached for the bag of marshmallows, I told him I was sleepy and wanted to go to bed. He said okay but not to get up too early. I took my blanket and started up the stairs.
I wasn’t really sleepy, but I was tired of horses and shotguns and men spitting in the campfire, and I wanted to work on my gifts for Granny Grace and Aunt Susannah Hope. Daddy wasn’t big on shopping, and Mama always said a homemade gift was the best kind anyway.
Before I got to the top of the stairs, I stopped. “Daddy, make sure Chesler brushes his teeth before he goes to bed. You know what Mama said about sticky marshmallows hugging teeth. They need a good brushing.”
“Yes, Kate, I’ll make sure of it.”
I had done what Mama put on my list, so I headed to my room. I turned the covers back on my bed and pulled my sketchbook out of my desk drawer. The second I heard the television go off, I planned to close my sketchbook, turn out my desk light, and jump into bed just like I’d been there all the time. Even if my light was out, Daddy would still come in to check on me.
Before I started drawing, I got my page of stickers out of the drawer. They were just little yellow round stickers about the size of a nickel. I asked Mama one time why we couldn’t just buy some smiley-face stickers. She drew two dots and a half a circle on one of those yellow dots and said, “Why, if we bought smiley faces then we wouldn’t get to make our own! And that’s half the fun!” So I put big dots with glasses on them to look like Pastor Simmons, and I peeled it off the paper and stuck it on my calendar for today. I had made Pastor smile this afternoon when I talked to him about my favorite book.
The Christmas Portrait Page 6
