Read Online To Make My Bread by Grace Lumpkin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Grace Lumpkin
Ads: Link
ainât a-going to.â
âNo, we ainât,â Bonnie said. âNo, we ainât.â She spoke angrily and it seemed that she was talking not to John but to the Lord.
As they stood over Georgy watching him make unsteady movements with his feet, the rain that had been threatening began to come down. They hurried down to a great rock that bordered the trail and huddled close to it. The black clouds came lower. They covered the whole top of Thunderhead. Wind came up and blew the trees so the smaller ones bent almost to the side of the mountain, bowing and scraping to each other. Down in the valley where Ora lived the sun was shining, but icy rain and wind covered the mountain top. John and Bonnie hugged close together under the rock with Georgy warm and snug between them. And then the lightning began. It was bad lightning for a spring storm. It came darting along the path like the forked tongue of a giant snake. Just in front of them, down the slope a little way, a tree was struck and with a crash split in half. The thunder rattled and banged against the sides of the mountain. It went away and came back with the lightning to rattle and bang again. At the terrible noise so close, Bonnie pushed her head back against the wall of rock. Her face looked green in the pale dark made by the clouds, and then it was blue in the lightning. John hid his own face from her down against the puppyâs warm fur.
And then as suddenly as it had begun the storm left the mountain. The thunder rolled away like a wagon down a rocky road, the sound of it getting fainter each moment.
The two small figures walked down the trail. Their clothes were plastered flat to their bodies, and Bonnieâs hair was in wet strings over her face. But her cheeks were rosy now she could reach out and feel Georgy.
âLet me tote him,â she said. She held Georgy close up to her wet face. To have lost something, parted from something loved, and then to have it again made her feel something like God. She felt big and powerful as if she could reach out and take the whole mountain in her arms.
CHAPTER EIGHT
J OHN dipped the wash pan into the black iron pot. It was early morning of baptizing day. Emma had been there before him to light a fire. He and Bonnie must wash all over with hot water. For their brother Basil, her oldest son, was to be baptized. She had a feeling that all of them must be cleansed outwardly on the day that Basil became white as snow inwardly, washed clean of his sins by the blood of the Lamb.
At a protracted meeting that summer which lasted a week, Basil joined the church the second night. The Lord claimed him. Perhaps Basil had always belonged to the Lord. He had certainly attended church regularly every summer since John could remember. Though since he was older, there were times when he got drunk and became anything but religious. Drink made Kirk happy and cheerful but it made Basil glum and ugly for days afterwards. Granpapâs defiance of the preacher had made Basil plunge deeper into religion, as if he wished to make up for the old manâs defection. He had long talks with the preacher, and afterwards went about looking very important and full of news.
John set the pan of hot water on the wash bench. Off came the jeans and shirt Emma had washed the day before. He hung them carefully on a bush and began to make suds with the homemade lye soap. Disgusted sputtering sounds came from his mouth as he rubbed the suds lightly over his face. They stung his eyes until one hand groped for the jeans and rubbed the soap out.
As a special concession to cleanliness he broke off a soft green twig of sassafras from the bush and cleaned around the navel which protruded a little from his body. Looking down he watched his body curiously. It was not often he saw himself naked, for clothes were made to be worn day and night. The protruding navel, he knew, had something to do with his birth and the fact that Granpap had cut
âNo, we ainât,â Bonnie said. âNo, we ainât.â She spoke angrily and it seemed that she was talking not to John but to the Lord.
As they stood over Georgy watching him make unsteady movements with his feet, the rain that had been threatening began to come down. They hurried down to a great rock that bordered the trail and huddled close to it. The black clouds came lower. They covered the whole top of Thunderhead. Wind came up and blew the trees so the smaller ones bent almost to the side of the mountain, bowing and scraping to each other. Down in the valley where Ora lived the sun was shining, but icy rain and wind covered the mountain top. John and Bonnie hugged close together under the rock with Georgy warm and snug between them. And then the lightning began. It was bad lightning for a spring storm. It came darting along the path like the forked tongue of a giant snake. Just in front of them, down the slope a little way, a tree was struck and with a crash split in half. The thunder rattled and banged against the sides of the mountain. It went away and came back with the lightning to rattle and bang again. At the terrible noise so close, Bonnie pushed her head back against the wall of rock. Her face looked green in the pale dark made by the clouds, and then it was blue in the lightning. John hid his own face from her down against the puppyâs warm fur.
And then as suddenly as it had begun the storm left the mountain. The thunder rolled away like a wagon down a rocky road, the sound of it getting fainter each moment.
The two small figures walked down the trail. Their clothes were plastered flat to their bodies, and Bonnieâs hair was in wet strings over her face. But her cheeks were rosy now she could reach out and feel Georgy.
âLet me tote him,â she said. She held Georgy close up to her wet face. To have lost something, parted from something loved, and then to have it again made her feel something like God. She felt big and powerful as if she could reach out and take the whole mountain in her arms.
CHAPTER EIGHT
J OHN dipped the wash pan into the black iron pot. It was early morning of baptizing day. Emma had been there before him to light a fire. He and Bonnie must wash all over with hot water. For their brother Basil, her oldest son, was to be baptized. She had a feeling that all of them must be cleansed outwardly on the day that Basil became white as snow inwardly, washed clean of his sins by the blood of the Lamb.
At a protracted meeting that summer which lasted a week, Basil joined the church the second night. The Lord claimed him. Perhaps Basil had always belonged to the Lord. He had certainly attended church regularly every summer since John could remember. Though since he was older, there were times when he got drunk and became anything but religious. Drink made Kirk happy and cheerful but it made Basil glum and ugly for days afterwards. Granpapâs defiance of the preacher had made Basil plunge deeper into religion, as if he wished to make up for the old manâs defection. He had long talks with the preacher, and afterwards went about looking very important and full of news.
John set the pan of hot water on the wash bench. Off came the jeans and shirt Emma had washed the day before. He hung them carefully on a bush and began to make suds with the homemade lye soap. Disgusted sputtering sounds came from his mouth as he rubbed the suds lightly over his face. They stung his eyes until one hand groped for the jeans and rubbed the soap out.
As a special concession to cleanliness he broke off a soft green twig of sassafras from the bush and cleaned around the navel which protruded a little from his body. Looking down he watched his body curiously. It was not often he saw himself naked, for clothes were made to be worn day and night. The protruding navel, he knew, had something to do with his birth and the fact that Granpap had cut
Similar Books
