"Thanks again, Miss Deale, for all that you've done. And please forgive Fanny for being too aggressive, and Our Jane is terribly sorry, even if she can't say so. I'd ask you in, but I left the house in a terrible mess . ." Boy, that was no lie.
"I understand. Maybe your father is inside, wondering where you are. If so, I'd like to speak with him."
Fanny stuck her head out again. "He ain't in here, Miss Deale. Pa's sick an--"
"He was sick," I interrupted hastily. "He's much better, and is due home tomorrow."
"Oh, that's a relief to hear." She smiled and hugged me close, and her perfume filled my nostrils as her soft hair tickled my face. "You're so brave and so noble, but too young to endure so much. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon, shortly after school is over, to deliver your pr
esents to put under your Christmas tree."
I didn't tell her we didn't have a Christmas tree. "We can't let you do that," I protested weakly.
"Yes, you can; you must. Expect me tomorrow about four-thirty."
Again Fanny put her head out the door; obviously she'd been listening through the flimsy door. "We'll be waitin. Don't ferget."
Miss Deale smiled, started to speak, but seemed to change her mind before she touched my cheek gently. "You're such a lovely girl, Heaven. I would hate to think you won't finish high school, when you have such a gift for learning."
Suddenly a small, frail voice spoke up, when I never expected to hear Keith volunteer anything. "Yes," whispered Keith, clinging close to my skirt. "Our Jane is sorry."
"I know she is." Miss Deale lightly touched Our Jane's round cheek, then ruffled Keith's pretty hair before she turned to leave.
In the cabin that was almost as cold as outside, Tom stuffed more wood into Ole Smokey. I sat down and rocked Our Jane, feeling the cold winds blowing in through the openings in the walls, seeping up through the floor cracks, coming in through the illfitting window frames. For the first time this cabin seemed totally unreal, not home at all. I had the vision of the restaurant with its soft white walls, its crimson carpet, its fancy furniture; that was the world I wanted for all of us. And to think it was the best meal of my life made me realize just how miserable we all were, so much I began to cry.
Tonight I was going to say my longest, most sincere prayer, down on my knees. I was going to stay there for hours and hours, and this time God would hear me and answer my prayer, and send Pa home again.
Yet I was up at dawn the next morning, singing as I began my day with cooking, with seeing Tom off to school, and right away I set in to make the cabin as clean and tidy as possible, enlisting Fanny's help.
"Ya kin't make it pretty!" she complained. "Ya kin scrub, dust, sweep, an still it'll stink!"
"No, it won't. Not when you and I are finished; this place is gonna shine, really shine--so get busy, lazybones, and do your share, or no more treats for you!"
"She won't slight me, I know she won't!"
"Do you want her to sit in a dirty chair?"
That did it. Fanny made an effort to help, though it wasn't more than an hour before she fell down and rolled up to go back to sleep. "Makes t'time go fasta," she mumbled, and when I looked Grandpa was dozing in his rocker, also waiting for the miracle of Miss Deale who would come at four-thirty.
Four-thirty came and went without Miss Deale showing up.
It was almost dark when Tom came home with a note from Miss Deale.
.
Dearest Heaven,
When I returned home last night, there was a telegram under my door. My mother is in a hospital and seriously ill, so I'll be flying to be with her. If you need me for any reason whatsoever please call the number below, and reverse the charges.
I am sending a delivery boy to your home with everything I think you need. Please accept my gifts to children I love as my own.
Marianne Deale
.
She'd written a number with the area code, perhaps forgetting we didn't have a telephone. I sighed and looked up at Tom. "Did she have anything else to say?"
"Lots. Wanted to know when Pa was coming home. Wanted to know what we needed, and what size clothes we all wore, and shoe sizes. She pleaded with me, Heavenly, to let her know what we needed most. How could I tell her when the list would be a mile long? We need everything, most of all food. An ya know, I stood there like a jackass an wished t'God I could be like Fanny, an shout it all out, an have no pride . . . an feel no humiliation, just take what I could--but I couldn't, an she's gone. The only friend we have, gone."