Julia's Hope Read Online Free PDF Page B

would. “I like this place, Daddy,” she told me in a quiet singsong voice. “Can we stay?”

FIVE
    Julia
    What a place this was! What a place it could be! Someone had planted winter onions long ago, and they were still here, the trusty vegetable my dear grandma had loved. They would probably always be here, regardless of the season; that’s what these onions were for. And strawberry plants! There were hundreds of them, competing with weeds in a big patch east of the house, just past the shed. There were no ripe berries yet, but I picked leaves, knowing that they would make a passable tea with a bit of the sugar we’d found.
    It was dandelion and yellow dock that had me hopping about the yard, picking leaves. Robert wouldn’t be thrilled with greens for breakfast, but it would be something to put before them, anyway.
    I spun around for a moment, not minding the rain; going out picking always cleared my head. I admired the way someone had put a line of trees along the driveway, which stretched just north of the house and all the way back to the barn. What a sensible windbreak! No wonder we hadn’t seen the house from across the field on that side.
    I especially liked the walnut tree behind the house and the apple tree just across the drive from it, not far from the creaky old barn. What joy they would provide in the fall!
    I could imagine some dear woman walking about with a basket, picking up drops, while one strapping boy climbed the apple tree to pick and another leaned over, gathering walnuts. What fine eating that must have been!
    I should have laughed at myself for such dreaming. But the more I saw of the farm, the more I loved it. A well with a pump stood right behind the house, with more than a dozen jonquils clustered around it. I pumped at the handle and got enough water to rinse my bundle of greens. Fiddlehead ferns were just peeking their curly tops above the ground in a shady corner by the back porch steps. That might be lunch later. I glanced over at the stand of timber past the big backyard and prayed there might be mushrooms there. But my children were waiting. I knew I should go back in and give them my assurances.
    “Mom, we’ve got wood!” Robert called as I came in. “Dad found it in the basement.”
    Thank you, Lord! I’d expected to step back out in a moment to try to make use of something wet to cook with.
    “Thanks, Sam.” I gave his shoulder a pat, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “If you light the fire, I’ll get the food ready.”
    Sarah bounced up to me, her braid bobbing. “Let’s clean house, Mama. Are we gonna use the bed tonight?”
    I couldn’t answer her at first. She hadn’t forgotten last night’s whimsy, and now my thoughts mirrored hers. It seemed so natural that we should be here. So right. How could I get her to understand that we had to move on? How could I reconcile it for myself, even? I wanted to do exactly what she said. I’d woken up thinking about it. Clean this house. Make it a home.
    But I knew Sam would never understand. And he would be right. You couldn’t just walk in and claim a place. There was an owner somewhere. But, Lord, how wonderful it would be if he would drive right up and offer us the house, free and clear!
    Sam used the charred scraps of wood in the fireplace and a page from a newspaper we’d found to light our fire. I put the greens and some onion in water in the skillet and boiled more water for the strawberry-leaf tea. How to pop the popcorn without a lid was a puzzle to me until I poured the tea water off into a bowl and decided to dry the saucepan, put the corn in there, and set the skillet on top of it, greens and all.
    “This is a strange breakfast, Mom,” Robert told me. “But kind of fun, I guess.”
    When the corn started popping, Sarah jumped for joy. It was easy to make that girl happy. A touch of the salt sprinkled over the warm corn would make her feel like she was feasting.
    Then the sun suddenly shone through the