Waiting for Spring Read Online Free PDF

heavyset woman who watched over David while Charlotte was in the shop. Shorter than average, Gwen would never beconsidered beautiful, even though her light brown hair was smooth and glossy, the envy of many, and her blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. She was a jolly woman who appeared to enjoy life, and for that alone, Charlotte felt blessed. It had been Gwen’s optimism that had helped Charlotte through the dark days when she’d learned that her son was blind.
    â€œRose and I told David what we were doing, didn’t we?” Gwen smiled at her daughter.
    The three-year-old nodded vigorously. “I and David taste the candies.” She smacked her lips. “I and David like them.”
    â€œI’ll bet you did.” Charlotte smiled at Rose, then hugged Gwen. “Every day I thank God for bringing you into my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    When Jeffrey had been killed, Charlotte had been forced to make an honest assessment of her talents. There were only two—a clear soprano voice and the ability to design and sew fashionable clothing. Since opportunities to earn money by singing were limited, her best chance of making a living for herself and David was to open a dress shop. Though there was no question of remaining at Fort Laramie, once she’d arrived in Cheyenne, Charlotte had realized that the growing capital city could support another dressmaker.
    Finding and stocking the store had been relatively simple. Juggling work with caring for David and their apartment was a far greater challenge. Fortunately for Charlotte, Gwen had been shopping at Yates’s Dry Goods the day Charlotte had introduced herself to the man whose building adjoined hers, and she had heard Charlotte tell Mr. Yates that she needed a housekeeper who could also care for her son. Half an hour later, Charlotte had the best housekeeper she could imagine.
    â€œYou were the one who helped us,” Gwen countered, “but let’s not be maudlin. Especially not tonight. Supper’s ready.”
    Charlotte moved to the dry sink. “Did you hear that, David? It’s time to wash our hands. Come to Mama.” She watched, a proud smile on her face as he crawled toward her. Other children his age were starting to walk, but for David, crawling had been a major accomplishment.
    â€œYou know what comes next.” David giggled before raising his arms so she could lift him onto the counter. “Now, give me your hands.” When she positioned them over the pail, he giggled again. Getting wet was one of David’s favorite parts of the day. “Okay, rub,” Charlotte said when she’d poured water over her son’s hands. “Now we’ll dry them.” She gave him a towel. Though he hadn’t quite mastered the art of drying his hands, he seemed to enjoy the texture of the cloth. “Off to your chair now.”
    It had seemed strange at first, narrating every step she was planning to take, but when Charlotte had blindfolded herself and tried to imagine what David’s world was like, she had realized how important it was to compensate for his lack of sight by stimulating his other senses. David’s hearing appeared to be acute, and he would often sniff, wordlessly telling Charlotte he had detected an odor she had not.
    The meal went well. David enjoyed eating, once he knew where the foods were placed, and though he made a mess of the cake, smearing it all over his face, his grin left no doubt that he’d savored it.
    When she had washed her son’s face and hands and tossed his bib into the laundry basket, Charlotte settled him on her lap and reached for the first of the packages Gwen had laid on the now clean table. “David, your aunts sent presents foryou.” She handed him a box wrapped in heavy brown paper and tied with a coarse string. “This is from Aunt Abigail. Feel the tie.” She moved his fingers over the twine, showing him