“Nope, it was all here just like you remember, and Daddy put you on that sofa right there, and we covered you up in blankets. You just opened your eyes a few times and closed them again.”
“Where’s your little brother? What’s his name?”
“That’s Chesler. He’s out ice skating with my uncle. And Chesler, oh you’ll know it when he gets home. He’s loud and annoying, and just don’t ask him to sing, or you’ll be sorry. Come on, I’ll show you my room. I mean our room. You’ll be staying with me.”
Daddy had already put Laramie’s things on my bed. “Okay, girls. Enjoy. Granny’ll be here in a little while.”
Laramie walked around looking at everything and asking more questions than Chesler. I had to explain about the calendar and the smiley faces and the bird feeder on the window. Then she saw the Books of My Life on the shelf next to my desk. “What the heck are these? I mean, what are these?”
“Oh, those are the Books of My Life. My mama made one for every one of my birthdays. They have pictures and little stories about what I did that year. She made my birthday portrait with her wedding gown every year, even when I was a baby. When I was firstborn, she just laid me on the wedding gown to take the picture, and then when I got older, it was like playing dress up. Mama said my picture in her wedding gown every year was living proof I was growing up.”
I pulled one off the shelf and opened it on my desk so she could see.
Laramie turned the pages slowly. “So what are you going to do now that your mama’s not here?”
“I’m just planning to make my own books for myself, and I’ll keep making them for Chesler too. One day he’ll be glad I did.”
She walked to the window. “And this is where the redbird comes to see you?”
“Mmm-hmm. There and in the cedar tree out back. I see her through the kitchen window when I wash dishes.”
“That’s so cool. I really love the card you made me. You can really draw.” Then she walked over to my easel and the shelf where all my art stuff was. “This is the prettiest room I’ve ever seen. I know you miss your mama, but you’re really lucky, Kate.”
“Yeah, I guess. Mama let me choose the color for the walls, and then she painted the sunflowers and daisies.”
“My mom painted my room too. We saw a room like it in a magazine, with blue walls and a blue ceiling. Mom left before she could paint the big fluffy clouds.”
“How long’s your mama been gone?”
“Three months, two weeks, and four days.”
“You keep a count?”
“Every day. You don’t?”
“Nope. I just know Mama went to heaven on September twenty-eighth.” I would never forget that date. “You want to go back downstairs?”
“Whatever you want to do.” Laramie was being so nice; she didn’t seem like the tough girl I knew at school. Maybe she was just glad to be in a quiet place, away from all the troubles at home.
“Let’s stay up here and listen to some music. They play Christmas music all day and all night on the radio. Daddy’ll call us when it’s time for lunch.”
We were lying on the bed with the music turned up just talking when Emily came walking into my room with a white box in her hands. “Hi, Laramie. Hi, Kate.
Your dad said I could come on up.” She walked over to the bed and handed the box to Laramie. “Here, Laramie, these are for you. We got them at the bakery, and we got several kinds because we didn’t know what was your favorite.”
Laramie looked like she was scared to take the box. “Thanks.” Laramie opened the box and pushed the lid back so we could see what was inside. There were oatmeal, chocolate chip, and green-iced cookies shaped like Christmas trees. “Here, Emily, you choose first.”
Emily shook her head. “I shouldn’t have one. It’ll spoil my lunch.”
Laramie still held the box out to Emily. “But I’d like it if you and Kate had one.”
Emily acted all stiff and prickly. “No, I really shouldn’t. I have to go. My mom’s taking me to a special tearoom for lunch today. It’s girls’ day out.”
I didn’t know why Emily acted so . . . so uppity. I made a frowny face at her when she wasn’t looking. Why’d Emily even bother to bring the cookies? She was just pretending to be nice. And how could she talk about her special time with her mom when she knew we didn’t have our mamas?
I volunteered. “Here, I’ll have a cookie.” I picked out a frosted tree, and Laramie chose an oatmeal cookie.
While we munched on our cookies, Emily said to Laramie, “You had everybody in town worried about you, you know. My dad and Kate’s dad and both her uncles were out in the cold looking for you.”
Laramie put her cookie down.
I wanted to pull Emily’s hair. Sometimes, she could be so . . . so right next to mean. Why would she think it wasn’t okay for Laramie to swear but it was okay for her to be a brat?
I jumped in. “What Emily’s trying to say is that so many people cared about you and were worried. We’re just glad you’re safe, and I’m really glad you’re spending Christmas with us.”
Emily got bug-eyed. “Oh. She’s staying here for the holidays?”
“Yes, Laramie’s here for several days, so I’m not sure when we’ll be seeing you.”
“Fine. Did you figure out how to get your mama’s Christmas present to heaven yet?”
I knew Emily wasn’t asking that like she wanted an answer. She was just being bratty again, and I wanted to ring her neck. “Yeah, I think I have.”
“So, tell me.”
“No, not yet.”
I was glad to hear Mrs. Peterson calling Emily from the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, Emily. We have things to do.”
Emily turned around prissy-like with her proper ponytail swinging. “Bye. I’ll call you later, Kate.”
Somebody taught Laramie well because even after Emily was so snippety, Laramie still said, “Thank you very much for the cookies, Emily. That was really sweet of you.”
I wanted to slam the door when Emily walked out, but I didn’t. “I’m sorry about Emily. She isn’t always so . . .” I couldn’t even think of a word to say. I just squinted my eyes and shook my head. “Maybe if she didn’t wear that ponytail so tight her nose wouldn’t be stuck up in the air so high.”
“That’s okay. Emily’s your friend, but I know she doesn’t like me.”
I mocked Emily in her whiny voice. “My mom’s taking me to a special tearoom for lunch today. It’s girls’ day out.” I looked back at Laramie. “What kind of friend says that when she knows my mama’s in heaven and your mom is gone?”
“Eat your cookie, Kate. Emily’s just a snotty-nosed brat, and if I felt like it . . .” Laramie stopped talking for a second, then she said, “But she was really nice to bring the cookies.”
I knew Laramie was working at using her manners. “Emily just doesn’t like your swearing and stuff,” I explained. “But she just doesn’t understand the swearing’s not who you are ’cause you can be really nice.”
“Okay, then I’ll try to watch my mouth,” Laramie said matter-of-factly. “My mom didn’t let me swear, but my dad swears and he never says anything about me swearing. But I won’t swear at your house.”
“That’s good, ’cause swearing would make Aunt Susannah Hope break out in hives, and Granny just might do something with a washrag and soap that you’d remember for a long time.” I laughed a little when I said that.
Laramie brushed the cookie crumbs off the comforter into her hand and threw them in the wastebasket. “Okay, I got it, Kate. I’ll do like Mom taught me.”
After that we just listened to music and ate cookies and talked until I heard Uncle Luke and Chesler come in. I switched off the radio. “Let’s go downstairs. It’s getting close to lunchtime.”
Daddy was putting food on the table. Granny turned around from the stove. “Well, hello, Laramie, I’m Kate’s granny. You can just call me Granny Grace. Everybody else does.”
“Yes, ma’a
m. Kate told me about how you live on a farm. We used to visit my grandma when she lived on a farm.”
Uncle Luke came down the stairs with my brother over his shoulder and a tube of ointment in his hand. He put Chesler down and opened the tube. “It won’t hurt nearly as bad as scraping your chin did when you fell on the ice.”
Granny Grace always said that Chesler was just an accident waiting to happen. And wouldn’t you know it, the only place on Chesler’s body not covered by three layers of wool was where he got hurt skating? Uncle Luke finished his doctor’s routine, and I tugged on his shirt. “Uncle Luke, this is Laramie. And Laramie? This is my uncle Luke and my little brother, Chesler.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Laramie. I’d shake your hand, but I don’t think you’d like this slimy medicine.” Uncle Luke headed for the sink to wash his hands.
Chesler just stood there like he’d never seen a girl before, and Uncle Luke walked over and patted her on the shoulder. Then he asked, “Hey, Laramie, would you do me a favor?”
She looked real surprised. “Sure. I’ll try.”
“Sit down here. I need to practice my doctoring. Would you allow me to look at your stitches?”
“If you want to.”
He pulled out a chair from the table for her, and he was careful removing the bandages. “Hey man, this is beautiful. Whoever stitched you up must have taken embroidery lessons from Granny Grace. Anybody want to see?”
“Not me.” I backed away a little.
But Chesler had to poke his nose in. “I do, I do. I never saw stitches before. Not in somebody’s face.”
I pinched him so he wouldn’t say something dumb. But it didn’t do any good.
“Your face looks like Kate’s rag doll.” I pinched him again but he barely flinched.
Granny kept busy, but Daddy took a look. “Healing nicely, and the swelling’s gone down.”
Laramie just sat there real still and quiet. I think our family was a big change for her, but everybody fussed over her like she was a princess just arrived from some place special. I was glad.
“Okay, let’s eat. Everybody grab a chair, and Laramie, you sit over there next to Kate, and Chesler, you sit on the other side of Laramie.” Granny Grace was directing traffic again.
Chesler stood in his tracks. “But she’s a . . . she’s a . . .”
“She’s a what, Chesler?” Uncle Luke was pinching Chesler’s ear.
“Uh . . . a girl.”
“Yeah, and a pretty one. Just practice. One of these days you’ll like sitting by a pretty girl.”
“You like to sit by Miss Applegate?”
“Yeah, I do. Sit down, before I pinch both of your ears.”
I never was happier to see a big dish of Granny’s homemade-from-scratch, three-cheese macaroni. Laramie looked just as happy as me, because she took two big helpings.
After lunch I didn’t have to help with the dishes. The rest of the day we just did things in my room. Talking and listening. That was how you learned about somebody. You asked a lot of questions, and you listened to what they said. Sometimes Laramie would use a bad word, and then she’d stop like someone told her it was a bad word, and then she’d say something nice again. She told me about the night she ran away.
“Were you scared in that shed at school?”
“Sorta. It was really cold and dark in there, but I figured I was better off in that shed than I was if I went back home, at least for a while. I was really glad when it got daylight, but I still didn’t come out of the shed. My head was hurting, and I kept going back to sleep. And when I wasn’t sleeping, I was thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about what to do. I didn’t have any money, so I couldn’t go to my aunt’s on the bus. She lives a long ways away. I thought about breaking into the motorcycle shop to get some money, but I was afraid my dad would be there. I didn’t know anybody else knew I was gone, let alone that the whole town was looking for me.”
Then she got real quiet and got that look in her eyes like Mama used to get sometimes when her mind went somewhere else and she didn’t want to talk anymore.
I waited for a little while, and then I asked her if she wanted to do an art project. She liked that idea. And when we got tired of that, we fixed each other’s hair. I was careful with hers because of her stitches and stuff. I liked having her around.
Daddy let us stay up late, and I gave Laramie one of my gowns to sleep in. And I gave her a pair of socks to keep her feet warm. It had stopped snowing, and when I turned out the light, the moon was shining bright through the window. Laramie was curled up like a cat on the far side of my double bed, but I knew she wasn’t asleep.
I got into bed, and for a little while we both just lay there, breathing. When the dark was warm and quiet, I said, “When do you miss your mama the most?”
Laramie rolled over on her back. “I don’t know. I just miss her all the time. What about you?”
“I think I miss Mama mostly at bedtime. We just had these things we did every night, prayers and smiley faces and talking about the day. I miss that, and I miss knowing she’s just down the hall.”
“Yeah, me too. Daddy told me yesterday that she’s okay and he hoped she was coming home, but I don’t know.” Laramie paused. “Can I tell you a secret, Kate?”
“Sure. I won’t tell a soul.” I turned over on my back too and just watched the shadows of the tree limbs on the ceiling.
“Before she went away, I think Mom came into my room one night and told me she was going away for a little while, but she’d be back.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, for real, I think. But I don’t know for sure. Sometimes I think it really happened, but sometimes I think I was just dreaming or wishing it so.”
“I hope it’s for real.” I got quiet for a minute. “Can I tell you a secret too?”
“You want to tell me a secret? Nobody in our class ever told me a secret.”
“Yeah, this is a big secret. I made my mama a Christmas present.”
“That’s your secret, but Emily knows?”
“Well, Emily sort of knows. I mean, she knows about the present and all, but she doesn’t know my real, real secret. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get Mama’s present to heaven. I asked Pastor Simmons and Uncle Luke and Miss Applegate, and nobody knows, but I finally figured it out.” I told Laramie what I figured out and what I was planning to do.
She promised not to tell anyone. I knew she wouldn’t. I wanted to tell her my other two secrets, about Uncle Luke asking Miss Applegate to marry him and about my Aunt Susannah Hope being sick, but I figured one secret on the first night was enough.
We stopped talking, and the room was real quiet for a little while. “Good night, Laramie.”
“G’night, Kate.” Then she rolled over facing the wall. “Kate?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You think the redbird’s in the cedar tree?”
“I don’t know because it’s been snowing, but I know she’s out there somewhere. I just hope she’s warm.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DADDY HAD TO work all day Thursday, so Granny Grace came over to stay with us. Laramie had been with us only a day, but I already knew I liked having her around. With Mama gone and all, I didn’t have a woman around much, except when my aunt or granny visited. But Laramie was my age, and she liked the things I liked, and I was teaching her how to draw. I asked Daddy if I could get a sketchbook and pencils for Laramie for Christmas. I even told Daddy I wanted to pay for it with my own saved-up allowance.
Thursday night after supper Miss Lisa came over, and Uncle Don and Aunt Susannah Hope and Granny Grace joined us too. We all bundled up and headed for church to do some Christmas caroling. Miss Applegate had brought red Santa hats for everybody to wear, including Laramie.
Pastor Simmons met us at the door. “Well looka here. We have the whole O’Donnell and Harding clan. And here’s Miss Laramie. Now don’t you look
like a cheerful bunch?”
Granny Grace stepped right up. “That’s right, we’re here to spread the cheer!”
About that time I saw a real pretty lady walk up next to the pastor. She was kind of tall, slim, and tan, and she had blonde hair like Miss Lisa’s. I didn’t remember seeing her before.
Pastor Simmons took the cup of coffee from her. “You may remember my sister, Evie. She visits from time to time. Sis, these are some of my favorite folks.” Then he introduced everyone by name, and she shook everybody’s hand.
Aunt Susannah Hope was last. “It’s good to see you again, Evie. Are you here to spend the holidays with your brother?”
“Thank you. And yes, I’m here for Christmas. Last year convinced me there was no more beautiful place to spend Christmas than in Cedar Falls. Not much snow where I live.” She smiled; she could have starred in a tooth paste commercial.
Granny Grace chimed in. “And where is that?”
“Right now, I’m living in South Florida.”
“Yes, my sister, the artist gypsy bird. I call her that because she mostly lights places. I’m not sure she lives anywhere. I’m working on her to light here for a spell.”
I couldn’t hold it any longer. “You’re an artist?”
“Yes. I’m a photojournalist, and I paint a little.”
“What is a photojournalist?”
“I travel around the world taking pictures and writing stories about what I see. And I hope that what I see and capture in my photographs might cause some people to look at the world differently.”
The pastor looked down at her. “Yes, I keep telling her she could fly right back to Cedar Falls after her travels and open her studio right here. I think I’m making a little headway.”
I never met anybody like Evie before. “Did you take the pictures in the pastor’s office? Where do you go and what do you see? Could I see some of your pictures? And do you have lots of cameras?”
The Christmas Portrait Page 12
