Millie smiled, shook her head slightly. “You and the word okay. It’s kind of aggravating.” A slight pause as she looked at her empty chair. “It’s also very nice to hear sometimes.” Millie went and sat down in the chair.
Adam followed, sitting and trying his best to not look at all judgmental or intimidating. He didn’t know if he was succeeding. It probably didn’t matter, anyway, because Millie wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the table as though the grain of the wood was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. But finally she started to talk.
“First, thank you for what you did yesterday. It was an unbelievable gift. I know that. But, I also want to save money. I want to contribute.” Millie’s voice fell off as she continued to stare at the wood surface.
Adam clenched his jaw and his fists. He wanted to talk. Ask questions. Tell her a few things about how a marriage between a man and a woman out on a farm was supposed to work. But he had told Millie he would listen. So he did so. He would do so. Even if it cracked all of his teeth and made all ten fingers cramp up.
“I said that I wanted to sell my knitting so I could make money. So I could have extra savings. Something to fall back on in case I need it.” Another pause. “And that was wrong. I was wrong because there isn’t an ‘I’ anymore. There used to be. But, I married you and became a wife. A mother.” Millie’s voice cracked. “So, I don’t want to sell my knitting so I can have extra emergency money. I want to do it so we can. So Caty and Genie can. And, I really hope you don’t have a problem with that.”
All of the tension left Adam’s body. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
Chapter Eight
To Do:
Morning Routine
Laundry
Go through food in root cellar—how are we doing with supplies?
Make baby stuff—clothes and blankets
Ask Adam again if the crops are dying?
Learn what dying crops look like
Millie looked at the clock, surprised by how late it already was in the morning. It wasn’t intentional, but she had been spending longer and longer with her Bible. When she had first started reading the Bible, back in Saint Louis, Millie had felt like a fraud. Worried that someone would walk in and see her and know that she did not know what she was doing. That she did not feel close to God.
It had been over a year, and Millie was just starting to know what she was doing. Well, at least with the reading part. She had read through the book several times and was beginning to know where to find the passages that would speak to her current mood. It was becoming familiar. Comforting.
Millie looked at her list, and turned her notebook to the next blank page. She didn’t pick her pencil back up, though. Her heart began to beat faster as she contemplated the clean white paper. Millie began to see spots, and she forced herself to breathe out a long, slow breath.
Edith had told her all about the hard parts of farming. The fear. Being at the mercy of nature and the commodities market. All the ways it could destroy a man’s body and mind. They had covered all of that during the trip into town.
The trip home had been different. Edith said, bluntly, that Millie always focused on how things could go wrong. Looked for the worst possible outcome, expected it to happen, and then assumed she was the only one who could fix it. She suggested Millie try finding the good in her life. Try expecting the best and working at making that happen.
Millie had just stared at Edith at the time, too dumbfounded to even be insulted. How in the world had Edith known that?
Millie had learned over and over that some people were destined for the happily-ever-after and some people were not. And she was not. The first rule of living in The Home was to keep the good things well hidden. Any time Millie had celebrated something good in her life, another person had taken it. Or destroyed it. Or simply left.
But Edith was right. Millie could start to look around and see her blessings instead of her risks. And there were many, large and small. Instead of planning for failure, Millie could plan all the ways things would go right.
She had a little boy who called her Mama. The sweetest little girl who followed and copied her all day long. A baby getting really, really ready to enter this world. And a desire, for the first time in her life, to create some kind of happy home life.
Millie looked at the blank page again. She could list the good things in her life. But not yet. Her hand was not ready to pick up the pencil for that reason today. Maybe tomorrow.
Millie closed the notebook and went to prepare breakfast. The eggs she had gathered this morning were in a bowl, waiting to be cooked for little tummies. She put her skillet on the stove. Picked up an egg. Stopped.
Millie put the egg back in the bowl and set her skillet to the side again. She strode back to the table, plopped down, opened her notebook to that blank page as fast as possible.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.
So many of Millie’s problems only existed in her mind. And it seemed like the rest of her problems came from using her mind to try to fix them. So now the time had come to use her mind to give herself some peace, and perhaps even a little joy.
Millie made her hand write.
Today I am thankful for:
Her handwriting was not neat. Her words were not centered. This was not going to be a pretty page.
Don’t think, she reminded herself. Just write.
—The chickens laid eggs for me to gather
—Fresh milk
—Time reading my Bible
Millie looked at the list. It was ridiculous to be so scared of those words. They were not going to hurt her. Writing down the good things in her life would not put those things at risk.
That didn’t stop Millie’s hands from shaking, though. Or the sweat from rolling down her brow. Millie turned the page, ashamed at the irrational relief that flooded her body once the gratitude list was hidden.
She picked up her glass of water and drank until it was empty. Her mouth still felt as dry as the drought that plagued her nightmares. The drought that Millie still felt compelled to try to plan a way around.
The planning helped with her anxiety. It did. And Millie needed that help right now. But, Edith’s point was still valid. Still ringing in Millie’s ears.
Okay. Focus on positive things that could happen. Millie wiped her palms off on her skirt and picked the pencil back up.
Things Adam could do other than farming:
Banker—he is good with numbers and money
Sell seeds—he has lots of experience
Make furniture/work in a mill—he is good with wood and tools
Learn a specialized trade—other people learn
Become a full-time rancher—but still risky
“Mama!” Millie closed her notebook and looked at the little boy standing in the doorway—her little boy—with a smile. It was time to move on from planning to actual doing. For now, anyway.
“Good morning, Genie-bug.” Millie held out her arms, relishing the way Genie ran into them. The way he snuggled up to her, close and warm. “How did you sleep?”
“Good.” Genie’s breath was hot against her neck where he had nestled his head. He always hopped out of bed as soon as possible, but that didn’t mean he was ready to be awake and start his day. More often than not he got out of bed to come doze against Millie for an extra half hour or so. Millie leaned back in the chair, trying to accommodate both the child in her womb and the one treating her like the most comfortable bed ever made. Any discomfort in her back was more than offset by the absolute pleasure these early morning moments gave her.
“Good morning, Millie.” Caty’s voice was quiet as she stood in the doorway in her white cotton nightgown.
This was new. Caty usually had to be coaxed out of b
ed in the mornings. “Hi there, Caty-girl. Why are you out of bed so early?”
“I’m hungry.” Caty’s face was flushed, and Millie laughed.
“I’m starving, too. Do eggs sound good?”
Caty nodded. “Can I help?”
Millie usually woke Caty after she made breakfast, so Caty had never helped with breakfast before. “Absolutely. Let me get Genie settled and then I’ll teach you the secret to perfect scrambled eggs.”
Millie set Genie on his feet and kissed his warm cheek. “Why don’t you go play with your blocks, baby.”
He nodded and made his way over to the basket holding his toys.
Millie put the bowl of eggs she’d gathered that morning on the table. She got a second bowl and moved the chair so Caty could reach a little easier. “All right, Caty-girl. We need to crack some eggs.” Caty almost scrambled to kneel in the chair and reach for the first egg. “Whoa there, honey. Let me get you an apron first.” Millie tied one of the smaller aprons over the front of Caty’s nightgown, doing her best to shield the child’s clothes from the mess that was sure to follow.
It only took one crack of an egg against a bowl for Genie to abandon his toys and come over to help. Millie resigned herself to having to clean this area after they were done and pulled over a second chair. How could she possibly deny the boy who loved to crash things together more than anything else in the world the chance to crack eggs against a bowl? She couldn’t.
Once they’d eaten and cleaned up the raw egg that had splattered an astonishing distance from the table, Millie and the kids made their way through the day. Millie was almost irritated with all the words of gratitude that leapt into her head. Millie noticed all the food still in the root cellar and realized they could make that food last for probably a year. She appreciated the coolness of the water as she did laundry. The feel of sunshine on her back as she hung the clothes to dry. Millie catalogued the laugher of her children.
So much. Too much. Her blessings were too many to hide and too many to protect.
The morning passed quickly and the heat became intense. Even then, Millie found herself appreciating that they got all the chores done in the morning. The satisfaction in a simple lunch. The size of the family room that allowed the children to play while she knitted.
The words would not leave her mind, and Millie would glance occasionally at her notebook sitting at her place at the table. The pencil right next to it. But she shook her head and used that restlessness to rock her chair.
Genie was asleep on the floor, a block in one hand and a wooden cow in another. One arm stretched out over his head, the other splayed to the side. The child seemed to either be terrorizing his imaginary worlds or tired out. Millie had yet to see any kind of moderation from him in that respect. Caty was still holding on to wakefulness, but Millie noticed her movements brushing her doll’s hair were getting slower and slower.
Millie was just about to get up and put the kids down for their nap, or in Genie’s case to finish his nap in an actual bed, when the front door opened, and Adam walked in. Millie stopped midrock. The only time he had come home early had been to help their neighbor move. Was something wrong?
Adam stopped with the door still open, smiling at the sight of Genie asleep on the floor. He looked at Caty and held a finger up to his lips. Adam winked at Millie, walked over and picked up Caty, and took her into the children’s bedroom.
Millie felt something move inside at that wink. Probably the baby. Certainly not a reaction to that ridiculous man who winked at her. Really.
Millie heard murmuring coming from the bedroom, and then Adam came out a few minutes later. He bent down and picked up Genie, carefully gathering his arms and making it look a lot easier than it felt whenever Millie tried to do the same.
Millie resumed her rocking, though this time it was a slow and deliberate motion, perhaps, a way to soothe the worry that was trying to rise up and take over. Just why had Adam returned home in the middle of the day?
Adam came out of the children’s room, shutting the door. Millie stopped rocking. The two of them were back to staring at one another. They really needed to find a different way to pass the time.
“Is everything okay?” It was weakness to ask. But she wanted to know, and she wanted to fill the space between them with something.
“Everything is very okay.” Adam’s voice was almost consoling. “I just thought I might come work here for a bit. Do you care if I do that? It’ll probably be a little noisy and make a mess. I don’t think it will wake the kids.”
Adam was asking her for permission to do something in his house? “Of course you can do whatever you want in here.” She glanced at the closed door to the kids’ room, trying to express the irony that washed over her. “I have some experience with messes and noise inside the house.”
* * *
She’d said yes. He could feel his shoulders slump in relief.
It was his house, and Adam knew many men would never have asked their wives for permission to stay inside their own homes. Adam didn’t care. He had built this house to keep his family safe, and that family included Millie. During the day, without him being there, this house was one of her safe places. He had not come home and disturbed that without a great deal of thought.
“I’m just going out to the barn. I’ll be right back.”
It did not take him long to gather what he wanted. Adam had spent all morning going over his marriage with Millie in his head. Their conversations. The way they seemed to make huge leaps forward and then run backward so fast that it made his head hurt. What was possible with respect to his marriage and what he wanted.
Friendship seemed like such a mild word. Tame. But Adam knew it could be rich and fulfilling. He wanted that with Millie. That meant they needed to spend time together. Actually talk to one another without the conversation being so emotional it bordered on traumatic.
There was work to be done in the fields, but there was also work to be done at home. And, today, Adam had not felt called to be in the fields. He’d felt called to be in his home.
Adam came back inside with his supplies and set up at the kitchen table. Millie’s notebook was there, as always. His tools made a clunking noise when he set them down, and Adam saw Millie watching him with curious eyes. Sitting down, Adam looked at the wood he had selected for this project. It had a lovely grain that Adam knew would be deep and warm when he was finished with it.
He picked up a piece and began to work with his knife, slowly shaving away the outer layers. Seeing what was inside and what he would reveal. This was a familiar movement for his hands. Adam was thankful this did not require all of his concentration, because he needed to be able to think. Adam wanted to have a nice, normal conversation with Millie. He just couldn’t think of anything nice or normal to talk about. Not yet, anyway.
Adam’s shoulders lowered, relaxed as he began to whittle. His breathing slowed. He saw from the corner of his eye as Millie began to rock. The sound of his knife gently shaping the wood was joined by her knitting needles clacking against each other. The room felt incredibly calm. Nice.
Millie reached down and changed out yarn. She had been working with a deep blue, but this new color was yellow.
“What are you making?”
“It’s a blanket for the baby.”
Adam stopped whittling for a minute and looked as she held up the project. He saw the pattern she’d made with the blue, some kind of braiding. “What is the yellow going to be?”
“It’s the trim.”
“Trim? You’re almost done?”
Millie spread the blanket out on her lap and looked at it. “I thought I was. Does it not look okay?”
“Oh, it looks nice. I like the braid thing you did. It just looks...small.” And it did. That little square of knitted material looked incredibly small.
> Millie laughed. Adam tried not to stare, but the sound was carefree joy such as he’d rarely heard from her before. He liked it.
“Babies are small. They don’t need huge blankets.” She was teasing him.
“You would think I’d remember that, but I forget. It just seems impossible that Caty and Genie were once that small.”
“Well, they were. And this baby will be that small, too. He or she had better be at least, especially if I’m giving birth to him or her.”
Now Adam laughed. He knew Millie was smart. Knew she was kind. But, he was relishing this wit of hers.
“No feelings about whether you’re giving us a son or a daughter?”
Millie moved one hand to rub her stomach, a gentle mother’s touch. “I wish, though if I did have a feeling it would probably be wrong. For the first few months I was pretty sure I was carrying a tornado. I still wonder some days. This child is definitely an attention seeker. He or she spends the days, and nights, reminding me that it exists. And boy, does it exist.”
Adam laughed. “So, you’re saying we’re in trouble here.”
“Oh, we’re in so much trouble. I suspect that this baby will make Genie look like a calm child.”
“Okay, now I’m scared.” He wasn’t serious. Well, he wasn’t completely serious.
Millie laughed again, that glorious sound. “Me, too.”
They both went back to their tasks, but it felt easier. The rhythm of repetitive sounds and repetitive motion made the room feel peaceful. His soul was serene.
“I’ve never seen anyone whittle before.”
Adam looked at Millie and smiled. “Not a lot of whittling going on in the city, huh?”
“If there was, I sure never saw it. It doesn’t even look like you’re touching the wood with the knife, but I see the shavings on the floor so I know you are.”
“It’s funny like that. Sometimes I feel like whittling is an act of pure faith. I can see what I want the wood to look like in my head, but I never see it actually turn into that. It’s like I work and work and nothing happens and then suddenly it’s done.”
Family of Convenience Page 10
