by Janette Oke
Chapter Four
Sharing
The news of the mill’s closing had traveled fast. The whole town was in shock. As Felicity and Jennifer sipped a common soda at the drugstore they heard the somber, low voices of men and the frightened, shrill voices of women. It seemed to be the topic of all conversations.
“What on earth will we do?” they heard one woman ask. “We were just getting back on our feet after all of those medical bills. Now this.”
Her friend tried to be reassuring, but her own voice broke as she answered, “I guess we’ll have to go elsewhere. Start over.”
“Start over?” questioned the first, her voice quivering. “We’re too old to start over.”
“What you plannin’?” a man asked his neighbor.
“Don’t know. Just don’t know,” answered the second. “Right now my wife is sick. I came to pick up some medicine. Doc says the change might be good for her. The smoke here has always bothered her.”
The first man nodded. “Maybe it will,” he agreed, but there was doubt in his eyes. What good was a change if there was no money with which to buy the needed medicine?
“Came at a bad time,” said a third man.
“For everyone,” agreed the first, his eyes heavy with the worry of it.
As they listened to the people talk, Jennifer and Felicity sensed more than ever the seriousness of the situation. Their problem was not an isolated one. The whole town was affected, just as their father had said. What would happen to all of them? Was there anything two young girls could do?
It was Jennifer who shook them from their despair.
“If we are going to find jobs, we’d better hurry,” she whispered to Felicity. “Everyone our age might soon be looking for work.”
Felicity stopped flirting with the young man stocking the drugstore shelves and jumped to her feet. Jennifer was right.
“You take this side of the street and I’ll take the other side,” she ordered Jennifer and then quickly reversed her decision. “No, you take the other side, I’ll take this side.” It would be wonderful if the druggist needed more help to fill his shelves, she was thinking.
But the druggist was not interested in another clerk—not even a soda jerk. He smiled at Felicity and shook his head sadly.
“Don’t know how much longer I’ll be here,” he admitted. “Not the right time to be hiring.”
All of the merchants along the little street said much the same thing. No one was hiring. Felicity pushed back her hair from her warm face and trudged on. She hoped that Jennifer was having better luck. When the girls met at the end of the main street, however, Jennifer’s report was no more encouraging than Felicity’s.
“We’d better get home before Mama starts to worry,” said Jennifer.
Felicity reluctantly agreed. Besides, she was thirsty, and they had spent all of her money on the soda.
“We mustn’t say anything about the mill closing when we get home,” Jennifer warned. “Mama and Papa will want to tell us at the proper time.”
Felicity nodded and waved to a friend across the street.
Everything was quiet when the girls reached home. They found Hettie in the kitchen serving late-morning coffee to Tom, her husband, who worked the gardens and was general caretaker around the manor. Both looked unusually serious but brightened when the girls walked in.
“You lookin’ for a snack?” asked Hettie. Although she had never had children of her own, Hettie had a knack for understanding them. She always knew what the girls wanted and needed.
“Do you have more lemonade?” asked Jennifer, hoping that her voice sounded unconcerned and normal.
“I sure do,” answered the older woman, patting Felicity’s golden head as she passed her.
“And you, missie?” she asked Felicity.
“The same,” responded Felicity without much enthusiasm. Tom lifted his head as though curious, but made no comment.
“Cookies?” asked Hettie. “Got some fresh gingerbread.”
“Just lemonade,” said Felicity.
“So what has taken the starch outta you?” asked Tom, his hands cradling his coffee.
“We just shared a soda,” Felicity answered. “Where’s Mama?” She almost asked for Papa as well, but caught herself in time.
“In the garden,” Tom answered.
The two girls thanked Hettie for the lemonade and left for the garden. It seemed important to see their mother. They had to know how she was.
Julia was attacking the rose bed with all of the energy in her slim body, singing hymns in her rich soprano as she worked. Jennifer and Felicity exchanged relieved glances and smiled at their mother as she turned toward them.
“Where have you two been?” asked Julia, halting her song long enough to pose the question.
“Didn’t Hettie tell you?” asked Felicity.
“Since when is Hettie your messenger?” Julia responded, stepping back to study the two faces before her.
“We just went to the drugstore,” offered Felicity.
“I have no objection to your going to the drugstore—when you have permission to do so,” Julia replied evenly.
Both heads dropped.
“Sorry, Mama,” murmured Jennifer. She had known they would get themselves in trouble.
“You know the rules of the household,” went on Julia. “Permission is always needed to leave your own yard. I don’t think that is too much to expect. Do you?”
Two heads shook as one.
“In the future, you will see that permission is granted—first,” stated Julia.
This time the two heads nodded.
Julia turned again to her rose beds, and the girls went back to the house and sat in the swing. Jennifer squirmed on the wooden seat, but Felicity had already forgotten the scolding.
“I cleaned my closet,” she called to her mother.
Jennifer sucked in her breath.
Julia lifted her head. “I’m glad to hear that,” she responded.
“It’s as clean as Jennifer’s,” went on Felicity.
“Good,” said Julia.
“Do I get a reward?” asked Felicity.
“Indeed!” said Julia, and Felicity’s eyes sparkled.
“You may join us for dinner tonight,” Julia finished.
“But I always—” began Felicity, then felt the nudge of Jennifer’s toe.
“Exactly!” responded Julia, and turned back to her roses, singing as she worked.
After dinner, John lifted the family Bible from the bureau and turned the pages absentmindedly. He knew he had to tell the girls about the mill, but he wasn’t quite sure how to do it, what to say. True, changes were in store for all of them—but what changes?
He knew Julia was right. Of course God would care for them—just as He had always done. But God had assigned the care of the family to the father of the home, and John felt as if he were failing his family. Even though he was not responsible for the closing of the mill, he still felt the guilt. He wanted to supply for the needs of his family as he had done in the past.
Though he tried to appear confident, his shoulders sagged. He had spent the afternoon with other men from the lumber mill, and the conversation always came back to the same stark truth. There would be no work in this small town once the mill closed. And there would be no sale for property—no matter how fine it might be. The little town of Calder Springs would soon be a ghost town.
Julia reached for John’s hand and tried to encourage him with one of her confident smiles—though deep within her heart she felt little confidence.
John found the place where they were to continue their scripture reading and cleared his throat. He read the story of how Jesus fed 5,000 people with one young boy’s lunch, and Julia found herself wondering just how many times in the future Christ would need to multiply the loaves in her cupboard.
The girls listened attentively to the scripture verses. Even Felicity seemed to be concentrating on what her father read.
&nb
sp; John closed the Bible and laid it aside. He cleared his throat, and Julia knew he was searching for words.
“Before we pray,” he said at last, “we—I—there has been some news that has come to us—your mama and me—today that we need to tell you about because it affects all of us.”
Jennifer looked down at the bows on her shoes. One was crooked. She bent to twist it to its proper position. Felicity stirred restlessly beside her. Jennifer straightened and gave her sister a silencing look.
“We—we may be having some changes in our lives,” John continued, and Julia nodded pleasantly, as though changes were always nice.
“The lumber mill has run out of trees to process in this area and is going to move on to—to somewhere else.”
Jennifer could not bring herself to look into her father’s eyes. Felicity stirred again, and Jennifer placed a cautioning hand on her arm.
Julia remained silent, allowing John to say what he had to say in his own words—his own time.
“That means there will no longer be work for me here,” he finally managed.
If he expected an explosion of some sort, he was mistaken. The room was silent.
He waited a moment and then went on. “We might have to give up our home here and move to another town,” he added.
The girls sat rigid.
“Do you understand what I am saying?” John asked the girls.
They both nodded.
“We will be fine,” Julia put in, giving the girls one of her special smiles.
“What will we do till Papa finds work?” Felicity asked, directing her question to her mother. Julia’s eyes clouded.
“It won’t take Papa long to find work.”
“But everyone uptown says they can’t hire now. They don’t know how long—”
Jennifer gave Felicity a jab.
Felicity stopped short, her eyes filling with horror.
John and Julia studied the two faces before them.
“You knew?” asked John.
Felicity nodded.
“They went to the drugstore today,” explained Julia. “I should have realized—the whole town must be buzzing.”
“How much did you hear uptown?” John asked.
“Actually,” Jennifer replied slowly, “we—we knew before we went uptown. That’s—that’s why—”
“We went uptown to try to find jobs,” blurted Felicity. “But everyone said they would be moving soon and couldn’t hire anybody. Everyone.”
Julia’s eyes filled with tears. “You went uptown looking for work?” she asked.
“We just wanted to help until Papa found work again,” Jennifer apologized.
John looked shaken. “That was good of you,” he managed to say. “But I hardly think my little…” He hesitated when he saw their disapproving looks. “My two young ladies,” he corrected. “I hardly think that my two young ladies need to look for work—quite yet.” He managed a weak smile.
“So how did you hear the news?” Julia asked.
Felicity spoke again. “We heard Papa’s voice and wanted to see him, so we went to the parlor, but he was telling the news about the mill, so we left again.”
“I see,” sighed Julia.
“Let’s pray together,” John said, reaching for his wife’s hand, as he always did for family prayer.
They bowed together. John had a difficult time voicing his concerns for the future and skirted the issue with a general prayer. He needed time to talk to the Lord alone about his worries. Maybe after he had worked through the situation he would be able to discuss the future more openly with his family.
Julia’s hand tightened on his. She understood his tension.
Two weeks. Two weeks of work remained for every mill worker in town. After that the mill would be no more. The machinery would be dismantled and moved to a new location.
Two weeks. Two weeks to make plans—to bolster oneself for the many changes that were sure to follow.
Some men handed in their notices, drew their wages, and left, hoping to find jobs elsewhere before the rush. Others stayed and put in the few hours that would earn them one last paycheck. Then what?
Chapter Five
The Plan
“Hettie, is the parlor set up for tea?” Julia asked her housekeeper.
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman nodded.
“Where is Rose?”
“She’s in the kitchen making extra sandwiches.”
“Good. Did she get all my invitations handed out?”
“All but the one for Mrs. Pruett. She’s gone to see her mother.”
“Good,” said Julia again. “Did Rose say how many we can count on coming?”
“Said most folks seem right anxious to be here,” responded Hettie. “We expect most all of them.”
Julia nodded. Her stomach was churning. She had never set out on such a venture before. She wasn’t quite sure how to go about it now—but something had to be done.
“Did Rose tell everyone two o’clock?” Julia asked anxiously.
“I believe your invitation told them that, ma’am,” Hettie reminded her.
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” Julia responded, her cheeks slightly flushed.
Hettie busied herself with the tea service.
“Oh, Hettie, I am so nervous about this,” Julia admitted, lifting trembling fingers to her cheeks. “What if it all goes wrong?”
“Well, now, what could go wrong? You are simply having neighbor ladies in for tea—and while they are here you will discuss your—our—problem and see if anyone has any ideas how it might be remedied. Nothing difficult about that. Neighborhood ladies always talk about neighborhood problems.”
Hettie made it sound so simple. “We’ll need to get right to it,” Julia said, casting a nervous glance at the clock. “It won’t be long until the ladies will need to go home. We only have an hour or so until school will be dismissed.”
“You can talk about a lot of ideas in an hour,” Hettie said to comfort Julia.
Julia hoped so. She also hoped the women would be on time. Just as she was about to begin pacing, the doorbell rang. Hettie ushered in Mrs. Wright, the preacher’s wife.
“Oh, I am so glad you were able to come,” said Julia, taking the woman’s hand. “I may need your help. I don’t know how to do this—this sort of thing.”
Mrs. Wright held Julia’s hand firmly. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered, “just pretend you are leading the missionary women’s group at church. You always do such a nice job.”
“Thank you,” Julia returned, managing a smile.
The doorbell continued to ring until fourteen ladies were gathered in the spacious Harrigan parlor. Hettie and Rose busied themselves serving tea and dainty sandwiches, followed by flaky pastries. Julia studied the clock and then the neighbors before her. The news about the mill hung heavily about each of them. An unfamiliar seriousness shadowed their faces, a darkness veiled their eyes, and their shoulders sagged under the invisible load. In spite of their attempts to be casual, Julia knew they felt every bit as anxious as she did.
She rose to her feet and cleared her throat.
“You all know that I have invited you here for more than just tea today,” she said candidly. “Though it is a treat to have the fellowship of good neighbors, we all share a common burden at this time. I—I don’t know if there is anything—that we—as women—wives—can do about the situation our husbands are in—but I thought maybe—if we put our heads together—we might come up with something.”
All eyes focused on Julia. All ears listened carefully.
Julia shifted her weight from one foot to another.
“Now then—we know this is a lumber town. That we have no other industry to keep us going. But is there—is there any other possibility? I mean—what might this town be able to do for—for commerce?”
They searched one another’s faces. Each woman seemed to be looking to a neighbor for an answer, but no one was finding it.
“We must
think,” said Julia with such urgency that her brow puckered and her hands twisted before her.
“Without the mill I don’t see much hope,” ventured a somber faced woman.
Several in the circle shrugged in agreement.
“Let’s look at what we do have,” Julia suggested. “Hettie, would you bring that chalkboard, please?” With the easel beside her, Julia continued. “What do we have here?” she asked the women.
Blank looks clouded faces.
“We can’t farm,” said one woman frankly. “These mountains hardly leave room for a small garden.”
“But we do have gardens—all of us,” replied Julia, and she wrote “Gardens” to get things started.
“We have some wild berry patches scattered here and there,” one woman ventured, and Julia added that to her list.
“We have more’n our share of mountains,” offered a timid young woman.
“Mountains,” said Julia, writing the word in big letters. “Lots of people love mountains. Now—what do people go to mountains for—besides lumber?”
“Restin’,” answered an elderly woman almost hidden in a corner.
Julia stopped with her chalk suspended. An idea was beginning to form. She wasn’t sure if it was crazy—or feasible. But she had to share it with her neighbors.
“Do you—do you suppose we could make our little town into a—a resort town?” she asked breathlessly.
“Don’t have much for a hotel,” commented the banker’s wife.
Julia shook her head. It was true. The only hotel in town was in sorry shape. It was used mostly as a boarding place for unmarried, often transient mill workers. The owner had never bothered to “fancy up” the place.
“Well, maybe we could—could use our own homes,” Julia ventured.
Eyes moved about the room. They traveled over Julia’s thick carpets, rich velvet draperies, expensive paintings, china cups, and silver service. No one spoke but each of the women knew what the others were thinking. Julia Harrigan had the only house in town that visitors might pay to stay in.
