Blossoms on the Roof

by Rebecca Martin

  Ben brushed a layer of snow from his shoulders and lap. He tried to find a more comfortable position. His back felt cold while his face was uncomfortably warm. His thoughts began to blur like the whirling snowflakes. Round and round they whirled, hurricanes and tornadoes of snow… Suddenly Ben jerked awake. He’d been sleeping on his father’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Sleep away,” Father said. “I can’t blame you for being tired. It’ll be morning before long.”

  Finally the dawning light stole through the trees. They ate quick, cold breakfasts and started for home.

  Ben had never felt so cold in his life. The cold reached beneath his coat with what seemed like iron talons. His mittened hands felt like useless lumps. “It must be colder than it ever was in Indiana,” he said to Father.

  “Maybe it is,” Father said, keeping his eyes on the steep trail.

  Just then they heard shouts up ahead. John’s wagon had slipped down a steep bank and overturned. Firewood lay strewn in the snow.

  The other two teams stopped, and some of the men strained to right the wagon. Ben stayed with Jasper and Rob. He groaned as he watched the men with their shoulders to the upset wagon. Now he’d get even colder because of this delay.

  John’s wagon slipped down a steep bank.

  Finally they had the wagon upright, and Father hustled toward Ben. Oh good, thought Ben. We’ll go now. But Father had a different idea. “I’ll watch the team now while you help reload the Kanagys’ firewood. That’ll give you a chance to get warm. Moving around helps, you know.”

  Feeling ashamed, Ben climbed stiffly from the wagon thinking, How selfish I am! I’ve been thinking only of myself and not about helping John and Abe reload! And Father was right. By the time Ben clambered back on their wagon, he felt warm right to his fingertips.

  20

  A Feeling in the Air

  The North Dakota winter was cold. No, the smoke did not freeze before it left the chimney the way Ben’s friend back in Indiana had said, and Polly did not have to break the ice on her blanket before she could get up in the morning, but it was still colder than the Yoders had ever experienced. Bill McLellan said the thermometer in town often showed thirty degrees below zero. Sometimes it showed forty or even fifty below.

  Though most of the time they didn’t have that much snow, one morning in late January, Mother looked out the window and said, “Those clouds make me think of something I heard from Cynthia McLellan.”

  Polly peeked past Mother’s elbow at the snowy prairie stretching away to the gray sky. Dark, heavy clouds lay along the horizon.

  “Cynthia says she can feel it in the air when there’s going to be a blizzard. She says she can even smell it.”

  Father wrinkled his brow. “Why do you talk of blizzards this morning? We haven’t had much snow at all.”

  “Remember the surprise snowstorm that time you went to the mountains for firewood in November?”

  “Of course I remember,” Father said with a shrug and then turned to Polly and Ben. “Are you ready to go to school? I think I’ll hitch up Jasper this morning.” Bill had loaned them a small, one-horse sleigh that Father used to take the children to school.

  Polly asked, “You don’t really think we’ll get snowed in, Mother, do you?”

  “Oh—probably not,” Mother answered hesitantly.

  “I certainly want to go to school,” Polly said, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Today’s the spelling match. Mrs. Whiteside divided us into two teams, you know, and each week we have a match. Last week the other team won, but the week before, it was us.” Polly and Ben grinned at each other, remembering the fun.

  “So you two are on the same team,” remarked Father as he put on his overcoat. “It’s nice that you don’t have to compete against each other.”

  Mother tucked the last sandwich in Polly’s lunch bucket. “Remember, if there ever is a blizzard and we can’t come to get you, then just stay with Mrs. Whiteside for the night.”

  “Oh, Mother,” said Ben as he went out the door, “why do you keep talking about blizzards?”

  Jasper started off at a fast trot. He knew exactly where the Mylo school was. Soon Ben and Polly were waving goodbye to Father as they walked from the sleigh to the schoolhouse.

  The spelling match began right after noon. Outdoors the wind was rising, but nobody paid any attention. Mrs. Whiteside allowed the children to push aside the desks so she could arrange the pupils along the north and south walls of the classroom. The youngest ones of each team were near the front.

  “Cat,” she began, looking at Toby Mettler, the youngest boy. Confidently he spelled the word back to her.

  “Bat,” said the teacher, turning to the youngest team member on the other side. As she went down the line, the words got harder. Polly jiggled nervously from one foot to the other as her turn neared.

  “Travel,” said Mrs. Whiteside.

  Before Polly could spell it, Hall Jennings pointed to the window and exclaimed, “Look at that!”

  Every head turned. Polly gasped. Snow whirled so thickly past the window that the panes seemed covered with wool.

  “Blizzard!” cried Rick McPhee. Suddenly all the children were talking. The spelling bee was forgotten.

  Mrs. Whiteside rapped a ruler on her desk to stop the buzz of voices. “Children, you know our plan for a storm. Please start home right away if the blizzard is not too bad and if you have your own horse. If you don’t, wait for your parents to fetch you. And if they don’t come, stay right here.”

  Just then a knock sounded on the door, and there was Roger McPhee, looking like a snowman. “Rick, Sue, and Millie, get your coats, and we’ll be off.”

  In less than fifteen minutes, twenty-eight of the pupils had disappeared into the swirling snow. Only Polly and Ben were left. Lora and Patience led Polly upstairs, gleefully making plans for a night together.

  Minutes later Mrs. Whiteside called up the stairs, “Your father is here to get you, Polly.”

  Polly hurried down. She saw that Father’s coat was all snowy and that he was missing his hat.

  “The wind got my hat,” Father said ruefully. “I’ve never seen a storm like this.”

  Mrs. Whiteside said soberly, “Shouldn’t you stay? You’re new to the area and not used to blizzards. Things may be better in the morning.”

  Father shook his head. “My wife is expecting me. Are you ready, Polly and Ben? Tie your scarves around your face like this.”

  Mrs. Whiteside replied, “You must not go bareheaded, Mr. Yoder. Wait! I’ll get something for you from upstairs.” Moments later she returned with a stocking cap.

  “Thanks,” said Father, pulling the cap over his hair.

  He looked so strange that Polly wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. Things were too serious. Going outside was like walking into a wall of snow. Where had Father tied Jasper? The horse was nowhere in sight.

  Father peered into the whiteness. “The sleigh’s over there,” he said. Polly put up her arm to shield her face and followed him blindly.

  Sure enough, there was Jasper. His dapple-gray coat was all white with snow. Father untied him and they were off. Thump! The sleigh struck something and toppled on its side. The three of them spilled onto the snow.

  “That’s spill number seven,” Ben said, chuckling. Upsets in this little sleigh were so common that the children were keeping track just for fun. Righting the sleigh, they moved blindly on and into the howling wind. Soon they took spill number eight. By spill number nine, no one was laughing anymore.

  “It’s the wind,” Father said. “The sleigh simply gets pushed over.”

  “Are we going to make it?” whimpered Polly. Already she felt cold to the bone.

  Holding the reins, Father stood beside the sleigh. “I think I will take you back to school. Mrs. Whiteside will gladly keep you for the night.”

  “What about you?” Ben asked.

  “I’m going home. Mother would be worried if I stayed.”

 
“Where’s the schoolhouse?” Polly asked in bewilderment.

  “We can follow our tracks back. We haven’t come far with all those upsets.” Father took them right to the schoolhouse door.

  “How will you ever get home, Father?” Polly fretted.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Father replied, pulling the stocking cap down farther. “Trust in God.” And with that, he turned Jasper into the driving snow.

  21

  Long Night

  Father could not understand why Jasper was so stubborn. He simply did not want to go in the direction Father thought he should. Was it because Jasper didn’t like heading into the wind?

  Time seemed to stop for Father, there in the swirling whiteness. I wonder how far I’ve come. How many times has the sleigh flipped over? Finally Father decided to leave the sleigh behind. With half-frozen fingers, he unhitched Jasper and climbed onto his back.

  More time passed. Am I going around in circles? Father couldn’t help wondering. Suddenly he felt Jasper stumble and heard the clang of hooves on steel.

  The railroad! Now I won’t get lost—not if I follow the track. But which way is Mylo and which way is Rolla? He simply did not know. I’ll just have to follow the track in one direction or the other. Either way, I’ll probably arrive at a warm place even if Mother won’t know where I am.

  Then Father realized that he couldn’t follow the track on Jasper’s back. He would have to get down on his hands and knees and feel for the iron rail.

  “Sorry, Jasper,” he said as he slid off the horse’s back. “I hope I see you again.”

  Father left the horse standing in the flying snow, and getting down on his hands and knees, he began to crawl toward safety.

  Meanwhile back home, Jakie was full of questions. “Why doesn’t Father come home? Why don’t Ben and Polly come?” he asked Mother over and over again.

  “Maybe the sleigh dumped,” she told him. “That would mean it’s taking them longer.”

  Slowly the swirling whiteness turned to howling darkness. Mother’s answers to Jakie’s questions changed now. “Do you know what? I think they decided to stay at school. They would all have room to sleep there.”

  Jakie began to cry. “I wish they would come home.”

  “Let’s eat supper,” said Mother. They had been waiting to eat, hoping the others would come.

  Lisbet ate happily. She was too young to understand how serious the storm was. Jakie ate a little bit of soup, but he didn’t seem hungry. Neither was Mother.

  Soon afterward she put Lisbet to sleep. Jakie didn’t want to sleep. Mother sat and held him until his head began to nod. Finally he could not stay awake any longer.

  Mother did not sleep. There was only one thing for her to do. All through that long, long night, she prayed as she kept the fire going.

  Morning came, and the storm’s fury died down. Through the part of the window that was not covered with snow, Mother could see the shape of the barn. At last the wind stopped. How quiet it seemed!

  Jakie popped his head out from under the blanket. “Is Father home?”

  “Not yet,” Mother said unsteadily.

  Carefully she opened the door. Snow fell inside. The shovel stood right there so she began shoveling.

  Now the sun’s first rays slanted across the dazzling snow. Mother shaded her eyes to see better. What’s that beside the barn? she wondered. Why, it’s Jasper! The horse raised his head and whinnied.

  Realizing that the sleigh was nowhere to be seen, Mother felt sick. She hoped Jakie would not notice Jasper right away. She needed time to think before he started to ask questions.

  Then Mother saw something else. In the distance were three figures wading through the snow. Watching them draw nearer, the sick feeling went away and happiness took its place.

  “Jakie,” she called, “Father and Polly and Ben are walking home.”

  Jakie stared at Mother. Her voice had never sounded like that before. He jumped up and shouted, “Are they really coming?”

  Mother hugged him tightly. “Yes, Jakie, they are. Father looks funny. I don’t know where his hat is. It seems he has a stocking on his head.”

  That was the first question Jakie asked when Father struggled through the snow to the door. “What’s that on your head, Father?”

  Of course, Mother had many other questions, but they could wait until she had helped Polly and Ben out of their stiff, frozen coats. They could wait until she hugged them and made sure no one had frozen fingers or toes. At last she asked. “You must have stayed at school for the night. But why did Jasper come home?”

  “You mean he’s here?” exclaimed Father.

  “Right out there by the side of the barn away from the wind,” replied Mother.

  Father shook his head slowly. “So if I had given him his head, Jasper would have brought me home.” He let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad he’s all right. I didn’t know if he’d make it after I abandoned him.” And he began to tell about the hard decision he’d faced there on the railroad track.

  Mother clutched his arm. “So you didn’t stay at school?”

  “No. I suppose I should have. I was so worried about you…” Father’s voice broke. “Anyway, I reached the hotel in Mylo. They brushed me off and warmed me up. The minute the storm died down, I headed for the school. Polly and Ben were surprised to see me come walking in.”

  Polly nodded. “But we sure were glad. Mother, that seemed like a long night.”

  “Yes,” said Mother. “Yes, it surely did.”

  “But God was with us all,” said Father. “Let’s thank Him for His loving care.”

  22

  Promised Blessings

  Polly liked to watch Mother sewing her new linsey-woolsey dress. How fast her needle flashed in and out of the rough, brown fabric!

  Weaving the fabric on the Kanagys’ loom had taken a long time. Winter was nearly past when Mother began sewing the dress. Now, at last, it was nearly finished.

  Mother’s needle stopped, and she made a knot in the thread. “Polly, please go and get some potatoes. It’s time to make supper.”

  Polly took the tin bowl and stepped outside. The sun was shining brightly. April had arrived and spring was here. New green grass was growing in the fields.

  After lifting the heavy sod trapdoor, Polly climbed down the little ladder. Only a few rays of sunshine managed to slip in to help Polly find the potatoes. She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw that there were only a few potatoes left! She felt around on the cold, damp floor and found that it was true. Only one little pile of potatoes remained.

  Polly filled the bowl and climbed out. After carefully closing the trapdoor, she hurried inside. “Mother, what are we going to do? The potatoes are nearly used up. It will be months before we have new ones from our garden.”

  Mother kept on sewing. “I guess we will just have to do without potatoes for a while.”

  “But what will we eat? We’ve had no turnips either since February.”

  “We still have plenty of wheat from the McLellans, Polly. Father says we needn’t go hungry as long as he can shoot antelope and rabbits. And then there’s the fish he and Ben catch in the lake.”

  “Well, yes,” Polly said slowly. She knew Mother could make good soup with antelope and rabbits, but Polly liked potatoes.

  “God’s goodness is never failing.” Mother worked her needle as quickly and efficiently as ever.

  “Shall I peel the potatoes for supper? Then maybe you can get my dress finished in time for tomorrow.”

  It was a special Sunday—and not just because of Polly’s new, brown dress. Preacher Henry had come on the train from Indiana! Since Samuel Miller had the biggest house, the families were to all gather there.

  Polly sighed happily as she sat on a little stool in the corner beside Lizzie Miller. Listening to Henry preach and seeing his eyes glow like black coals seemed right, like she was back in Indiana. He talked of many things. He told about the world’s first rainbow
that God put into the clouds after Noah left the ark. “The rainbow is a sign of God’s promised blessings,” said Henry. “If we obey Him, those blessings are as sure today as they ever were.”

  And then Henry quoted the verse Polly had heard him repeat many times. By the way he said it in his powerful, ringing voice, she knew it was important and true: “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and today, and forever.”

  That Monday Mrs. Whiteside had a surprise for her pupils. “We need practice in letter writing and penmanship so I wrote to the teacher of the Umbleton School and asked her to send me the names of her pupils. We are going to do a letter exchange!”

  Mrs. Whiteside paused and looked at the children. Polly waited eagerly. This sounded like an interesting project.

  “On the chalkboard I have a list of the Umbleton pupils’ names.” Mrs. Whiteside snapped up the map of the world that had been covering the list. “I will help you choose a partner who is your own age. Then you will write a letter to him or her, and later they will write back.”

  Polly scanned the list of names. Suddenly her heart beat faster. Keturah Magidoff! Matilda Magidoff! At last, almost a year after losing them, Polly had found her friends. Now she knew the name of their school and could write to them!

  Timidly she put up her hand. “Please, may I write to Keturah or Matilda?”

  Mrs. Whiteside looked questioningly at her. “Why, yes, you may. Do you know them?”

  “I met them on the train when we moved here.” Polly could easily picture both girls in her mind—Kettie with her brown hair and Mattie with her yellow hair. She still remembered the soft feel of the little pink, homemade ball that had been there at the beginning of their friendship.

  Taking the time to use her best penmanship, Polly eagerly began writing her letter to Keturah. There was so much to write that she was afraid it wouldn’t all fit onto the paper the teacher had given her.