Read Online Dana's Valley by Janette Oke - Free Book Online Page B

concerned about it, they certainly never let it show. Mom must have gotten tired at times of Grandma’s chatter, but she smiled and added a few words of her own now and then. I had the feeling, though, that the necessary drives to take us places or the daily trip to pick up Corey after morning kindergarten were now welcome excursions for Mom. She’d sort of take a big breath as she crawled behind the wheel. It probably felt good to leave the house for even a short time.
    Yet I was taken totally by surprise when Dad’s voice took on the “family conference” tone one morning as we were gathered around the breakfast table. Grandma usually slept late and fixed her own toast or muffin to go with the leftover coffee in the pot. So it was just our family who sat around the table enjoying Mom’s blueberry pancakes.
    â€œYour mother and I have done a good deal of talking—and praying—and we think that it might be the right time to think of a bigger house,” Dad said, looking around the table.
    That sure got our attention in a hurry. I saw Brett jerk his head up as though in disbelief and Dana’s eyes grow large. Corey was busy poking a fork into the yolk of his egg to make it “bleed,” so he wasn’t paying much atten~tion. The yolk didn’t run very well. Mom was too concerned about making sure it was thoroughly cooked. Corey didn’t like blueberry pancakes, though I never could figure out the reason. And it was the only time that I remember Mom allowing any of us special privileges with the meal offerings. She seemed too baffled by it to insist that he eat his pancakes.
    â€œWhat kind of a bigger house?” Brett spoke first.
    â€œJust a … a medium-big house,” Dad went on. “Nothing fancy—just more room. We’ve even thought of something with a mother-in-law suite.”
    â€œWhat’s a mother-in-law suite?” I could feel myself frown as I asked the question. I knew enough about family relationships to know that Dad’s mother-in-law was Grandma Tyler, but I hadn’t heard anything about Grandma Tyler needing a place to stay.
    My Tyler grandparents were missionaries. Except through letters and cards, and now even more frequent e-mails, I felt I hardly knew them. Mom had pictures of us kids taken with them when they had been back in America on one of their home assignments. But being medical missionaries and desperately needed at the clinic in Bolivia, they didn’t come home as often as some missionaries—nor stay as long. But Dad was answering my question, even as my mind whirled with more questions.
    â€œThat’s just two or three rooms—sort of like an apartment—attached to a home. If we had something like that, Grandma Walsh could be with us … yet have some space of her own.”
    â€œShe’s not your mother-in-law,” I heard Brett say, expressing my very thought.
    â€œWell … it doesn’t have to be for the wife’s mother. Not for any mother, in fact. But it often is—that’s why the name.”
    â€œIsn’t Grandma Walsh going back home?” Corey asked directly. There. The question we all wondered about was on the table. Corey had been listening after all.
    Dad just shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “She still seems sort of lonely. We want her to know she can stay with us for as long as she wishes. But we don’t want all of you crowded in together either. It isn’t fair that you have to give up your rooms.”
    Mom hadn’t been saying much, but I noticed she nodded every now and then as though to second everything Dad was saying.
    Actually, it sounded rather exciting. Already my mind was beginning to think of a new room for Dana and me to share. One with bigger closets and room for another chest of drawers so we wouldn’t have to be arguing over who had what space all the time. I could even envision a