Read Online Winter Is Not Forever by Janette Oke - Free Book Online

hasn’t said so, but even though she sounds cheerful, I think she has been just a bit lonesome.”
    The tears came again and Mrs. Foggelson attempted to smile in spite of them.
    “I hope she is,” she said wistfully, as though to herself. “I am.”
    I waited for a minute and then asked the question that I had really come to ask.
    “Will she be home for Christmas?”
    “No. Her father decided that she needs to make the adjustment to being on her own, away from family. It’s much too far to travel, he says. I suppose he is right, but—Oh, my! How I dread the thought of Christmas without her!”
    I was surprised somewhat that Mr. Foggelson, who doted on his only daughter, could consider Christmas without Camellia.
    Mrs. Foggelson continued. “Mr. Foggelson needs to make a business trip east the last week of November. He will travel on to New York and take Camellia’s gifts, and check to see how she is doing. He says that’s quite enough.”
    My feelings for Mr. Foggelson hit an all time low. He had always felt that Camellia was his individual possession, but how could he do this to the girl’s mother? And her friends? And how could he do it to Camellia? If she was really homesick, did he think that the sight of “dear old dad” was all she needed?
    I couldn’t even speak for a few moments. The angry thoughts were churning around inside of me. I looked away from the tears in Mrs. Foggelson’s eyes and studied the distant maple tree, its bare arms empty as they reached upward against the gray autumn sky.
    At last I found my voice. I even managed a smile. I guess I felt more compassion for Mrs. Foggelson at that moment than I had ever felt before. This man, her husband, had robbed her of so much—her faith, her self-esteem, and now her only child. I wondered just what kind of account he would give before God on the Judgment Day.
    I smiled and touched my hat again. “I’ll keep in touch,” I promised, and then stammered, “If that’s all right.”
    “I’d love to see you, Josh. I need someone to talk to, and one of Camellia’s friends would—”
    She didn’t finish, but I thought I understood. And her words, “one of Camellia’s friends,” echoed in my mind as I tipped my hat again and started back down the sidewalk toward home. “Josh,” Mrs. Foggelson’s soft voice called after me.
    I turned to look back at her.
    “Keep praying—please,” she almost pleaded.
    I nodded solemnly and swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure if she meant to pray for Camellia, or for herself, or that she would soon see Camellia again—or all three, but I’d pray. I’d pray lots and often. Living with a man like Mr. Foggelson, I felt that she really needed prayer.
    I still hadn’t controlled my anger toward Mr. Foggelson by the time I reached Aunt Lou’s. I thought of walking right on by and spending some more time alone with my thoughts, but the realization that I didn’t have too long until I’d need to go home for choring prompted me to turn into the yard.
    Baby Sarah had just been fed when I reentered the house. She was in a happy mood, and Aunt Lou passed her to me, knowing that I would soon be asking for her if she didn’t. She gurgled and cooed and even tried to giggle. Then she did the unforgivable. She spit up all over my Sunday shirt.
    Aunt Lou jumped to run for a wet cloth, and Uncle Nat reached out to quickly rescue Sarah. I loved Sarah, but I sure did hate the feel and the smell of being spit up on. I guess I made some faces to show my disgust, and they laughed at me and ribbed me a lot.
    Aunt Lou cleaned me up the best that she could, apologizing for the mess. She offered to wash my shirt, but I didn’t have anything else along to wear and I figured I ought to be man enough to put up with a little bit of baby spit-up.
    The need for laundering brought our thoughts back to Uncle Charlie and his washing machine.
    Uncle Nat agreed to order the machine, and Grandpa and I both felt good about that. Now laundry