Read Online Till Morning Is Nigh by Leisha Kelly - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Leisha Kelly
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be close if Lizbeth needed him like she’d suggested.
“Do we hafta go to bed a’ready?” Rorey asked me, and I was a little surprised that she didn’t want to, but I guess I shouldn’t have been, considering the nap she took.
It seemed late. It seemed like half the night had progressed, but one look at the mantel clock told me that it really wasn’t late at all. Time never seemed to flow the same when Samuel was gone in the evening. I tried not to worry about what he might have found, or not found, but it was hard to keep such things out of my thoughts. And I wasn’t the only one. A sleepover with neighbors ought to be fun, at least a little bit, even if some of the kids were feeling a little under the weather. But nobody looked very happy, even though the youngest seemed to feel a little better after their first dose of the medicine Dr. Howell had left.
I knew Emmie was tired. But Lizbeth didn’t try to settle her down yet, knowing she’d be up in the night if she did. Everybody looked at me with a quiet sort of expectation. I wished Samuel were here to tell them all a good story. When we’d had them over before and things seemed so uncertain, his storytelling seemed to make everything a little easier. But I couldn’t do it. Not the way he could. And anyway, a story would be best when everybody was ready to lie down. It wasn’t even 6:30 yet. They weren’t ready.
It might have been a good time to get everybody involved shelling and chopping nuts and mixing and shaping cookies. But that would take a while, and maybe wasn’t the best project with a few upset stomachs in the house. But I had to do something to take their minds off of illness and the glaring absence of their fathers. And I caught a glimpse of a stray red Crayola that must have rolled into the corner when the rest of the box got put away. Franky’s idea came to mind. I still wasn’t sure if a stand-up paper nativity would be workable for us, but at least we could give it a try. Even if we accomplished nothing more than making a mess, it would keep the little ones busy.
I got out the scissors, paper, Crayolas, pencils. But what in the world could we use to hold the paper in its cone shapes? I thought I knew. I had the little girls’ interest already, and they followed me to the kitchen cupboard to pull out a small bowl and a spoon or two of flour. Just a bit of flour-and-water paste ought to do the trick. And we could keep quite a few hands busy holding things in place until the paste was dry enough to set.
Oh, it would have been wonderful if we could have gotten the radio working to play some Christmas carols for us in the background. At least we would have had a lovely festive atmosphere. As it was, I had a difficult time convincing particularly the older children that this was a project worthy of their attention. Eventually Kirk and Willy abandoned us entirely and sat by the fireplace playing checkers. At least they were in the same room, and somehow, despite our numbers, I found that comforting tonight.
Lizbeth let Emmie play with a piece of paper and try her hand scribbling on it. She seemed to like that really well, and though she still seemed feverish, she wasn’t fussy anymore. Franky cut out a circle with a slit on one side and showed the others how to make the cone bases. Joe and I became the designated “cone holders” while paste was drying. In no time we had seven little paper cones, some with lovely colorful scribbles.
“Them don’t look like people,” Harry observed.
“That’s just the bottoms,” Franky explained. “Ever’body wore robes then, so that’s why it’s okay to look so wide like that.”
Sarah nodded. All this apparently made wonderful sense to her. “We have to put heads on.”
“What heads?” Berty questioned immediately.
“We gots to make ’em,” Franky answered. “I think I know a way.” He cut a smaller rectangular piece of paper and rolled it to make a tube. I’d wondered how
“Do we hafta go to bed a’ready?” Rorey asked me, and I was a little surprised that she didn’t want to, but I guess I shouldn’t have been, considering the nap she took.
It seemed late. It seemed like half the night had progressed, but one look at the mantel clock told me that it really wasn’t late at all. Time never seemed to flow the same when Samuel was gone in the evening. I tried not to worry about what he might have found, or not found, but it was hard to keep such things out of my thoughts. And I wasn’t the only one. A sleepover with neighbors ought to be fun, at least a little bit, even if some of the kids were feeling a little under the weather. But nobody looked very happy, even though the youngest seemed to feel a little better after their first dose of the medicine Dr. Howell had left.
I knew Emmie was tired. But Lizbeth didn’t try to settle her down yet, knowing she’d be up in the night if she did. Everybody looked at me with a quiet sort of expectation. I wished Samuel were here to tell them all a good story. When we’d had them over before and things seemed so uncertain, his storytelling seemed to make everything a little easier. But I couldn’t do it. Not the way he could. And anyway, a story would be best when everybody was ready to lie down. It wasn’t even 6:30 yet. They weren’t ready.
It might have been a good time to get everybody involved shelling and chopping nuts and mixing and shaping cookies. But that would take a while, and maybe wasn’t the best project with a few upset stomachs in the house. But I had to do something to take their minds off of illness and the glaring absence of their fathers. And I caught a glimpse of a stray red Crayola that must have rolled into the corner when the rest of the box got put away. Franky’s idea came to mind. I still wasn’t sure if a stand-up paper nativity would be workable for us, but at least we could give it a try. Even if we accomplished nothing more than making a mess, it would keep the little ones busy.
I got out the scissors, paper, Crayolas, pencils. But what in the world could we use to hold the paper in its cone shapes? I thought I knew. I had the little girls’ interest already, and they followed me to the kitchen cupboard to pull out a small bowl and a spoon or two of flour. Just a bit of flour-and-water paste ought to do the trick. And we could keep quite a few hands busy holding things in place until the paste was dry enough to set.
Oh, it would have been wonderful if we could have gotten the radio working to play some Christmas carols for us in the background. At least we would have had a lovely festive atmosphere. As it was, I had a difficult time convincing particularly the older children that this was a project worthy of their attention. Eventually Kirk and Willy abandoned us entirely and sat by the fireplace playing checkers. At least they were in the same room, and somehow, despite our numbers, I found that comforting tonight.
Lizbeth let Emmie play with a piece of paper and try her hand scribbling on it. She seemed to like that really well, and though she still seemed feverish, she wasn’t fussy anymore. Franky cut out a circle with a slit on one side and showed the others how to make the cone bases. Joe and I became the designated “cone holders” while paste was drying. In no time we had seven little paper cones, some with lovely colorful scribbles.
“Them don’t look like people,” Harry observed.
“That’s just the bottoms,” Franky explained. “Ever’body wore robes then, so that’s why it’s okay to look so wide like that.”
Sarah nodded. All this apparently made wonderful sense to her. “We have to put heads on.”
“What heads?” Berty questioned immediately.
“We gots to make ’em,” Franky answered. “I think I know a way.” He cut a smaller rectangular piece of paper and rolled it to make a tube. I’d wondered how
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