herded the kids out of the store. We sat under a tree and ate most of the bread. It was a treat to me, plain as it was. And just as we were getting up, a short little woman, stooped over terribly, came out of the house down the street.
“Go on,” Samuel told me. “If this is what you want.”
I stood still for a moment, wondering why he wasn’t moving. Go on, he’d said. He meant for me to talk to her alone.
I glanced in the old woman’s direction. She’d stopped to close her front gate but then hurried on away from us, moving faster than I would have thought possible.
Sam gave me a nod but didn’t take a step. Fine then, I thought. It’s my idea. I’ll do it. He kept the kids and the bags by the tree, and I went running down the street so fast I nearly lost a shoe. If I’d seen the woman standing still, I would have guessed her to walk with an uneasy shuffle. She looked like the wind could blow her over. But she moved like she was racing to beat the band.
“Mrs. Sharpe!” I called.
At first she didn’t seem to hear me, but then she turned and gave me a stare like I’d never had before.
“I’m sure I don’t know you,” she said. “And just as sure you don’t know me, neither.”
“Well, yes, Mrs. Sharpe,” I said. “But Mr. George Hammond said I ought to—”
“George oughta tell you straight, then!” she declared. “I ain’t a missus! Never have been!”
“Oh, well, I beg your pardon, Miss, uh–”
“Miss Hazel is fine. And I’m going to the church. Can you imagine? Our new pastor’s wife can’t play the piano! At least she’s willin’ to take a lesson. I hope she’s got the sense for it, you know what I mean?”
I cleared my throat, unsure of how to ask anything of this rather gruff lady. “Well, uh, yes,” I stammered. “I hope so too.”
“Who are you, anyway?” she demanded. “And what’s George sending you to me for?”
“I . . . uh . . . I need to know where to find Mrs. Emma Graham.”
Miss Hazel looked at me a long time, and for a moment I wondered if Emma Graham was unmarried too. But I was sure Hammond had said Mrs.
“I go up and see Emma when I get the chance,” Miss Hazel said, her voice considerably softer. “What are you wantin’ with her, anyway?”
I swallowed. “We want to ask her about her farm.”
For the first time, Miss Hazel looked past me and saw my family waiting beneath the tree by the grocer.
“Her farm, eh? I see. You’ll break her heart with that, you will. She true loves that old place.”
I was taken aback; I certainly didn’t want to break anyone’s heart. “Do you think we shouldn’t ask then? If she’s wanting to—”
“Oh no, it isn’t that. You might just as well. It’d be the best thing. She ain’t never goin’ home.” Miss Hazel took another long look at Samuel and the kids. Then she stared down at my hands. “You hard workers, are you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And churchgoin’, I hope.”
“Well, yes. Once we get settled somewhere.”
“She might not sell, mind you,” Miss Hazel told me. “But you do all right by askin’. What you need is to go to Belle Rive to the boardinghouse. McPiery’s place, got that? That’s where she is.” She took a deep breath, straightened her hat, and told me she couldn’t be late for the pastor’s wife’s first lesson. Then she scurried away down the street.
The grocer told us Belle Rive was another four miles or so northwest. Closer still to Mt. Vernon. I knew if this fell through, we’d be going right on, into an uncertain future. And I had butterflies flying loops and swirls in my stomach.
“She’s probably an old lady,” Sam said as we stood on the side of the road just outside Dearing. “Probably widowed and can’t keep up the farm by herself anymore.”
Just like Grandma when Grandpa died, I thought. We’d moved to town, and it’d still been good. We’d had each other. I hoped Emma Graham had someone.
“Do you think we’re doing the
“Go on,” Samuel told me. “If this is what you want.”
I stood still for a moment, wondering why he wasn’t moving. Go on, he’d said. He meant for me to talk to her alone.
I glanced in the old woman’s direction. She’d stopped to close her front gate but then hurried on away from us, moving faster than I would have thought possible.
Sam gave me a nod but didn’t take a step. Fine then, I thought. It’s my idea. I’ll do it. He kept the kids and the bags by the tree, and I went running down the street so fast I nearly lost a shoe. If I’d seen the woman standing still, I would have guessed her to walk with an uneasy shuffle. She looked like the wind could blow her over. But she moved like she was racing to beat the band.
“Mrs. Sharpe!” I called.
At first she didn’t seem to hear me, but then she turned and gave me a stare like I’d never had before.
“I’m sure I don’t know you,” she said. “And just as sure you don’t know me, neither.”
“Well, yes, Mrs. Sharpe,” I said. “But Mr. George Hammond said I ought to—”
“George oughta tell you straight, then!” she declared. “I ain’t a missus! Never have been!”
“Oh, well, I beg your pardon, Miss, uh–”
“Miss Hazel is fine. And I’m going to the church. Can you imagine? Our new pastor’s wife can’t play the piano! At least she’s willin’ to take a lesson. I hope she’s got the sense for it, you know what I mean?”
I cleared my throat, unsure of how to ask anything of this rather gruff lady. “Well, uh, yes,” I stammered. “I hope so too.”
“Who are you, anyway?” she demanded. “And what’s George sending you to me for?”
“I . . . uh . . . I need to know where to find Mrs. Emma Graham.”
Miss Hazel looked at me a long time, and for a moment I wondered if Emma Graham was unmarried too. But I was sure Hammond had said Mrs.
“I go up and see Emma when I get the chance,” Miss Hazel said, her voice considerably softer. “What are you wantin’ with her, anyway?”
I swallowed. “We want to ask her about her farm.”
For the first time, Miss Hazel looked past me and saw my family waiting beneath the tree by the grocer.
“Her farm, eh? I see. You’ll break her heart with that, you will. She true loves that old place.”
I was taken aback; I certainly didn’t want to break anyone’s heart. “Do you think we shouldn’t ask then? If she’s wanting to—”
“Oh no, it isn’t that. You might just as well. It’d be the best thing. She ain’t never goin’ home.” Miss Hazel took another long look at Samuel and the kids. Then she stared down at my hands. “You hard workers, are you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And churchgoin’, I hope.”
“Well, yes. Once we get settled somewhere.”
“She might not sell, mind you,” Miss Hazel told me. “But you do all right by askin’. What you need is to go to Belle Rive to the boardinghouse. McPiery’s place, got that? That’s where she is.” She took a deep breath, straightened her hat, and told me she couldn’t be late for the pastor’s wife’s first lesson. Then she scurried away down the street.
The grocer told us Belle Rive was another four miles or so northwest. Closer still to Mt. Vernon. I knew if this fell through, we’d be going right on, into an uncertain future. And I had butterflies flying loops and swirls in my stomach.
“She’s probably an old lady,” Sam said as we stood on the side of the road just outside Dearing. “Probably widowed and can’t keep up the farm by herself anymore.”
Just like Grandma when Grandpa died, I thought. We’d moved to town, and it’d still been good. We’d had each other. I hoped Emma Graham had someone.
“Do you think we’re doing the
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