What the Moon Said Read Online Free PDF Page B

EARLY SUPPER OF COLD sandwiches, Howard and Kate left for home. It would be late when they reached Chicago again. Esther stood on the porch with the rest of the family and waved good-bye. As the car drove away, she tried not to feel frightened. They were really on their own now. There was no way to go back. Then Pa hammered the string of fairy bells above the door, and Esther felt better.
    â€œChurch tomorrow,” Ma said. “Everyone inside for baths.”
    Esther looked at her in surprise. “But we don’t have a bathroom—or a bathtub.”
    â€œYes, we do.” Ma disappeared into the small enclosed porch that connected to the kitchen. It was like a pantry and storage closet combined. When Ma came back, she had the gray metal tub she’d stacked dishes in that morning.
    Walter giggled. “That’s for laundry.”
    â€œAnd for baths,” Ma said firmly. Then she asked Pa to pound some nails into the walls. In a few minutes she had a clothesline strung across the middle of the kitchen. She hung a sheet over the line so it made a kind of wall.
“Nu,”
she said to Esther. “Here is your bathroom. Now, who will be first?”
    Walter was first. Esther was second. Fascinated, she watched Ma fill the tub with warm water from the big tank on the side of the stove. Ma called it a reservoir, and she dipped into it with the biggest dipper Esther had ever seen. When the tub was ready, Esther stepped in and sat down. She couldn’t quite straighten her legs. The tub was too short. But it was big enough to wash in. Ma handed Esther the bar of Ivory soap she kept just for Saturday night baths. Then she opened the oven door so hot air puffed out around Esther, and she felt all warm and cozy.
    â€œHurry,” Ma reminded her from the sink, where she was washing dishes.
    Esther ran the soapy washrag up and down her arms and legs. But all the while she was looking around the kitchen. It was very different from their kitchen in Chicago. The stove was much bigger and burned wood instead of coal, so there was a basket full of sticks in the corner. And the sink didn’t have hot and cold water faucets. It had a pump. Ma had to work the pump handle up and down before water splashed out. Then she had to watch the bucket under the sink so it didn’t overflow, because there was no drainpipe to carry the water away. When the bucket was full, it had to be emptied outside.
    â€œWe’re like pioneers,” Esther said suddenly, “aren’t we, Ma?” It was a surprising thought, but also an exciting one. Pioneers had real adventures all the time. Their life was hard, but they were brave and hardworking. They were—what was the word her teacher used sometimes?
Self-reliant,
that was it. Pioneers were self-reliant. They didn’t need other people. They didn’t need electricity or even bathrooms. They built homes and farms where before there had been nothing at all.
    Pioneers could do anything, Esther guessed. Pioneers could easily make this farm prosper, and make the farmhouse a cozy and cheerful place. And a pioneer girl, even one who was small for her age, could work very hard. She could be so hardworking and helpful, her mother couldn’t help but love her as much as her brother and sisters.
    Ma muttered something about pioneers that Esther couldn’t quite hear. Then she raised her voice and said, “Are you finished yet? Violet is waiting.” Esther sighed and reached for the towel. It was clear Ma was still a long way from being happy. When she spoke to Pa, her voice was stiff and chilly. Esther tried not to think about it.
    Instead, she pretended she was a pioneer girl. As she dried herself off and tugged her nightgown over her head, she pretended she heard wolves howling in the distance. Or maybe it was Indians . . . !
    That night, Esther went to bed by the light of a kerosene lamp in her new room in her new house. She felt odd,