Julia's Last Hope

by Janette Oke

  Julia lifted the small bundle and kissed the soft cheek. The baby squirmed but did not waken.

  “One from me—and one from Aunt Constance,” whispered Julia as she kissed him again. She paused a minute to gain a measure of control before she took the baby to the waiting doctor.

  Julia was pacing the kitchen floor, her brow furrowed, her lips moving in silent prayer when the door opened and Constance stepped in. Julia took one look at the young woman’s face and moved to embrace her. They clung to one another for several minutes, neither one speaking. Shared tears were their only communication.

  “You must be starved,” Julia whispered. “You have been gone all day. Sit down. Hettie saved you a plate.”

  Julia pushed the teakettle forward on the stove and checked the warming oven that held the waiting food.

  “Draw your chair closer to the fire,” Julia urged. “It’s cold out. You must be chilled through and through.”

  Constance wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and then did as Julia suggested.

  “I walked with them to the train,” Julia said hesitantly. “He was—fine. He never even awakened when the whistle blew.”

  Constance turned her face.

  “The—the twelve hours will soon be up,” Julia went on. “Just think of it. Somewhere—right now—there is a very excited woman—and man—waiting for that little one. Can you just imagine how they feel?”

  Julia saw the sagging shoulders tremble.

  “There was a time when we thought of adopting a baby boy. But we were told there weren’t many children available for adoption. And because we already had two healthy girls it might be a long wait.”

  The young woman made no effort to respond. Julia stepped closer and placed her hand on the trembling shoulder.

  “Constance, I am not trying to make it harder for you. I just want you to think about the other couple. How they might have prayed—longed for a baby. Little Peter could—will—make them very happy. He is such a sweet little thing. He will be loved. We’ll pray for that. We’ll pray that he has wise and kind and loving parents.”

  Constance wept again, but soon she looked at Julia and whispered, “You are right. He is better off with—with both a mother and a father. I loved him—will always love him—but I couldn’t have given him the home he deserved. Oh, Julia, I need to learn how to pray so that I might pray for him. I know you know how. I have watched you—with me—with Priscilla. No one could have been as kind or as patient without—without a deep faith in God. Please—please tell me what I must do to find God in that way.”

  Through tears that blurred her vision, Julia led Constance in reading Scripture portions that explained how to believe in the Son of God.

  Priscilla and Constance left the next day. Constance seemed reluctant to leave, but Priscilla was impatient to be gone.

  “I suppose that poky old train will be late,” she fussed, but the train was right on time.

  “I will write,” Constance promised.

  “I will be waiting,” said Julia.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much—for sharing your faith—for understanding—for your love,” said Constance.

  Julia hugged her again and blinked back another onset of tears. She turned from Constance to Priscilla. The train was coming toward them, chugging heavily as it pulled up the incline toward the station.

  “Priscilla,” said Julia. “I—I’ll continue to pray for you.” Julia tried to give the girl a parting embrace, but Priscilla accepted only a token hug and then stepped back quickly.

  “Constance, grab that big bag,” she ordered, “it’s much too heavy for me.”

  Julia turned back to Constance who welcomed the warmth of her farewell embrace.

  “Don’t let her upset you,” whispered Constance. “She was affected by your love much more than she lets on. She said as much to me. And now that I know God—I will be able to help her. I will keep working and praying and—who knows?”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Family

  Winter’s snow arrived early, making Julia feel buried and confined in the big, empty house. If she had not had Christmas projects to keep her mind and fingers busy, she felt sure she would have gone out of her mind with loneliness and sorrow.

  John came home for Christmas, and Julia clung to him as if he were her only link to sanity. “I have been counting the days ever since you left,” she moaned, “but they ticked by so slowly.”

  John pulled her close and brushed his lips against her hair.

  “You’ve lost weight,” Julia fretted.

  “Not much.”

  “But you have lost weight. Aren’t the meals—?”

  “The meals are fine. They feed us like—like lumberjacks,” John said with a grin.

  Julia lifted a hand to rub his cheek. “It’s so good to have you home.”

  But strangely, having John home made her ache even more intensely for Jennifer and Felicity—or perhaps it was because of Christmas. Julia’s thoughts kept returning to the girls.

  It will be such a special Christmas for Papa, she kept telling herself. She pictured the big house on St. Pierre. The staff would have decorated the halls with boughs of cedar and holly. The tree would be standing in the wide front parlor, hung with ornaments too numerous to count. Cinnamon and nutmeg would fill the house with irresistible aromas. Julia remembered it all. It would be as it had been during her childhood. Having the girls this year gave her papa a reason to celebrate Christmas.

  “Oh, if only we could be there too,” grieved Julia. “Then—then I would be so happy.”

  But they were not there. Julia mailed her parcels with teary eyes and a loving heart. Then she busied herself baking John’s favorite desserts, hanging the familiar streamers, and carefully placing the glass balls on the tree John brought home to her.

  On Christmas day Julia set the table for seven. She had invited the Clancys and Mr. Perry for dinner. She had wanted to have everyone who was left in town, but the Shannon children had the measles and could not go out, and the Greenwalds had guests of their own.

  John and Julia managed to get through the day. Julia tried to be cheerful, tried to keep her mind on her guests, but her thoughts kept slipping to her family in the East. I wonder what they are doing now. I wonder if the girls are thinking of us. I wonder—

  And then the guests went home and the day was over. Julia was glad she had worked so hard to get ready. As bone-tired as she was, at least she would be able to sleep.

  Julia was hard pressed to keep busy as the winter days came and went. The household needed many things, but she had no materials with which to work. Julia chose to be frugal. She stretched John’s paychecks as far as possible so they could lay aside sufficient funds to reunite the family.

  In February Hettie took sick. Julia worried more than she admitted. There was no doctor and no longer even a druggist in town. What few medications remained were shelved in Mr. Perry’s back room.

  “I really have very little to offer you,” Mr. Perry told Julia when she asked for his help.

  “I just don’t know what to do,” Julia sighed. “I have heard of poultices for chest colds and steaming for head colds—but this is neither. I don’t know what is wrong with her.”

  “Well, keep her warm and quiet—that’s about all I know,” said Mr. Perry. “And chicken broth. My ma used to swear by chicken broth.”

  “And where am I to get a chicken? I have tasted nothing but wild meat for two years now.”

  The man nodded his head but said nothing more.

  Julia picked up a few tablets said to bring relief from aches and pains and then trudged home through the snow.

  It was several days before Julia saw any improvement in Hettie’s condition. By then Julia was exhausted from work and worry.

  “I’ll sit with her,” said Tom, entering the room. “You get some sleep.”

  Julia did not argue. She went to her room and fell on her bed without even removing her clothes. “Dear God, may she
be all right now,” she whispered, and then she slept.

  In March the Clancys moved away.

  “There’s no need for a town clerk when there’s no longer a town,” Mr. Clancy said simply.

  “I’ve been thinkin’,” Mrs. Greenwald said to Julia a few days later. “No need to keep those shops open when there is nothing much in them. Might as well sort out what is left and board up those windows before everyone is gone and there’s no one to help us.”

  Only the Shannons, the Greenwalds, and Mr. Perry were left.

  “What about the summer trade?” asked Julia.

  “Perhaps Mr. Perry will lend a shelf or two in his store,” Mrs. Greenwald continued, and Julia didn’t argue.

  The few remaining hand-crafted goods were moved to Perry’s store, and the men of the community nailed the boards back on the shop windows.

  At last Julia began to feel that spring might actually come again. She took every opportunity to be outdoors, even though it was too early to plant a garden, too wet to walk in the woods, and too desolate to stroll downtown. Julia mostly puttered at home or hurried to the post office to see if she had a letter from John, the girls, or her father.

  John’s letters always sounded cheerful. True to his word, Mr. Small had found John a position as overseer so he no longer had to put in hard, heavy days as a cutter. He told Julia how the town was growing, with more and more homes lining the crooked streets.

  “They have even put in electricity,” he wrote in one letter. “Of course that is thanks to the lumber mill.” He spoke often of missing his family and how happy he would be when he had saved enough money so he could come home again.

  The girls’ letters always told interesting incidents of life in the big city. They had learned to love their grandfather. They enjoyed school and the young ladies who had quickly become their friends. They wrote about their interests in music and sports, and they told Julia about shopping trips and visits to exciting places. But they also spoke of their eagerness to be back with their parents again. Julia could often detect little cries of loneliness.

  Her father’s hasty notes were filled with comments about the girls. He praised Julia for raising such fine young ladies, talked of their accomplishments in school, gloated over how well Jennifer was doing on the piano and how sharp Felicity was in mathematics. It was always a joy for Julia to read her father’s letters—but they did make her even more lonely.

  After Tom plowed the garden, Julia set out with her packets of seeds, glad to have something to do, something that would actually show growth—advancement. At the same time she wondered, Why am I doing this? I am planting a garden big enough to feed the town—and there is only Hettie, Tom, and me.

  What about your summer guests? she argued with herself.

  Guests? Perhaps a few—but never enough. Never enough to earn a suitable income, and never enough to eat all of these vegetables.

  But Julia planted on. She felt compelled to do so. It kept her feeling busy—profitable.

  “We are leaving, too,” Maude Shannon told Julia toward the end of spring. “Jim just doesn’t want to struggle here anymore.”

  Julia didn’t even raise her head. She had expected it.

  “Do you want the cow?” asked Maude.

  “I’ll ask Tom. He would have to care for her. I will let him decide.”

  “I’m sorry to leave you like this,” Maude went on.

  Julia managed a half smile. “That’s all right,” she said. “We have always said that whenever a family feels they should move—that it’s time to go—then they should do so.”

  “Might you go too?” Maude asked.

  Julia shifted. She had thought of it. Had wondered. Had even hoped John might suggest it.

  “No,” she finally said. “No, I don’t think so. Not now at any rate.”

  “Do you have folks coming?” Mrs. Shannon asked.

  “You mean summer guests? No, not yet—but it’s still early. Most folks don’t come until late summer or early fall.”

  “Well, I should get going. I’ve got a lot to do,” Maude said. “Packin’ and all. Thanks for the tea, Julia.”

  Maude started to leave but then turned back to Julia. “I was wonderin’—before I go, could you—could you sorta say a prayer for me. I’m—I guess I’m scared and—and worried and I need some faith if I’m gonna get through this. I need God, Julia.”

  With a sense of humility, Julia took her neighbor’s hand. “Of course, Maude. Of course. He’s here. You only need to reach out to Him.”

  After praying with Maude, Julia followed her to the kitchen door and watched her go. Julia then turned to her garden. A few weeds were showing again.

  John arrived home unannounced. He surprised Julia by walking up behind her and pulling her apron string as she hoed her garden. Startled, Julia whirled to see who would tease her in such a way. She could not believe her eyes. Throwing herself into his arms she wept on his shoulder.

  “Why, I didn’t even know—hadn’t even received your letter—” she said when she could speak again.

  “There wasn’t any letter,” John admitted. “I just—well I just had to see you, so I begged for a few days off.”

  “The Shannons have gone,” Julia told him.

  “I noticed. I saw the empty yard—the boarded-up windows.”

  “It’s an empty town,” said Julia, shaking her head. She turned her face to keep John from seeing the tears building up.

  John led Julia to the porch swing and motioned for her to be seated. He eased himself down beside her. “Jule,” he began slowly, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” He paused to choose his words carefully. He did not want to hurt the woman he loved so dearly.

  “You have—have given it everything you could, but, Jule—I don’t think it’s going to work. Not here. I’m afraid we are going to have to give up, Jule. To let the house go.”

  John waited, holding his breath. He had never given Julia orders before. He expected a cry of protest, but Julia remained silent.

  “We can’t go on like this, Jule. I can’t stand being without you—without the girls. I think—”

  “What are you saying?” asked Julia, her voice trembling.

  “We need to be together. To be a family again. I know it will hurt you to lose the house, but—”

  “The house?” gasped Julia. “You think I can’t give up the house?”

  John looked at his wife, a puzzled expression in his eyes.

  “John, I don’t care about the house. Oh, I—I’ve loved it, of course—but without my family—the big, beautiful house has become a—a mammoth tomb. Empty and lonely. No, John, it isn’t my love for the house that has kept me here—trying to—”

  “Then what?” asked John.

  “You. You, John. I thought you couldn’t bear to give up the house.

  I didn’t want to lose it—for you, John.”

  “You mean—?”

  Julia nodded her head vigorously. “You worked so hard to give me everything—to have things perfect for me. I thought—I thought it would—would crush you to—to give it all up. I tried to hold it for you,” sobbed Julia, burying her face against her husband’s shoulder.

  “Oh, Jule, Jule,” John soothed her. “I just want—I just want you. I want us to be together. I can’t stand this—this being apart.”

  “That’s all I want too,” sobbed Julia.

  John kissed her wet cheek. He held her close, his own tears joining hers. Then he smiled and lifted her chin. “You’ll come with me? Move? Now?” he asked.

  “Oh yes!” cried Julia, her eyes beginning to shine.

  “What of Hettie—and Tom?”

  “Hettie’s father just wrote. He wants them to live with him. He’s not been well. Hettie was fussing about it because she wouldn’t leave me.”

  John’s arm tightened around Julia. “I found a little house,” he enthused like a child. “It’s—it’s not much—nothing like this one—but it does have a mountain view.
”

  Julia sensed his teasing. “Is there room for all of us?” she asked.

  John nodded. “It will be crowded. The girls will have to share a room.”

  “They’ve always shared a room,” Julia reminded him. “Oh, John—I’m so—so filled with—with joy—I fear I might burst. I can hardly wait another minute.”

  John kissed her again, his face sobering. “I was so afraid,” he admitted. “So afraid you might not want to go off to another lumber town. That you wouldn’t be able to leave—this.” He nodded toward the large white house.

  Julia shook her head with confidence. She was surprised that her long-troubled mind felt peace at last.

  “It’s time,” she whispered. “I feel—feel free to go now. I didn’t feel this way before. This—release. Why?”

  “Perhaps because you were still needed here,” John answered.

  Julia thought of Constance and of Maude Shannon. “Yes, perhaps that is the reason,” she said. “Maybe I was still needed here.”

  “And now?” asked John.

  Julia placed her arms around his neck, her face aglow. “Now,” she said, “now God is giving us new challenges. New adventures. Oh, John! I’m so thankful we can face them together.”

  “Let’s go wire the girls,” John suggested, and Julia hastily agreed.

  “Perhaps Papa will bring them home to us!” she exclaimed, thinking ahead to the great reunion of their family. Tears of happiness glistened on her cheeks as she laid her head against John’s shoulder.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Table of Contents

  1. The Unexpected

  2. Twosome

  3. Changes

  4. Sharing

  5. The Plan

  6. Baring the Heart

  7. Adjustments

  8. Hard Work

  9. Hope