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"He sure did. Got me after school and wanted to know where you are. How ya are. Why ya don't come. I told him Sarah is still sick, an Our Jane, too, an ya had to stay home an take care of everybody. Boy, ya never saw anybody look so unhappy as he did."
I was happy to know that Logan really cared, and at the same time I felt angry to be so mired in our troubles. With a pa who had syphilis. With a stepmother who ran out on her responsibilities. Oh, life wasn't fair!
I was angry at the world, at Pa most of all, for he'd started all of this. And what did I go and do but turn on the person I loved most. "Stop saying yer instead of your--and ya instead of you!"
Tom grinned. "I love you, Heavenly. Now, did I say that right? I appreciate what you do to make this a family . . . did I say that correctly? I'm glad you are what you are, different from Fanny."
I sobbed, turned, and fell into his arms, thinking he was the best thing in my life--and how could I tell him now that I wasn't wonderful, special, or anything but a cynical, hateful person who hated my life, and the man who'd made it what it was?
Two weeks after Sarah left I just happened to glance out a front window and there was Tom trekking home with more books, and beside him was Logan! Tom had broken his word and told Logan of our desperate situation!
Instantly I went on the defensive and ran to the door, blocking both Tom's and Logan's entrance. "Let us in, Heavenly," ordered Tom. "It's mighty cold out here for you to stand there in the way like a human wall."
"LET EM IN!" shrieked Fanny. "YER LETTIN OUT T'HEAT!"
"You don'twant to come in here," I said hostilely to Logan. "City boys like you would shiver with disgust."
I saw his lips tighten with surprise; then came his voice of calm determination. "Heaven, step aside. I am coming in. I am going to find out just why you don't go to school anymore--and Tom's right, it is cold out here. My feet feel like ice."
Still I wouldn't move. Behind Logan Tom signaled wildly for me to stop acting like a fool, and let Logan in. "Heavenly . . you'll waste all our wood if you keep holding that door open."
I started to push the door shut, but Logan forced me backward and entered with Tom close behind him. It took both of them to shove the door closed when the wind was so strong behind it. For a lock we had a board that dropped down and secured the door as a latch.
His face cold and red, Logan turned to me apologetically. "I'm sorry I had to do that, but I no longer believe Tom when he says Our Jane is sick and Sarah isn't feeling well. I want to know what's going on."
He had on dark glasses. Why, on a dull gray winter day when the sunlight was frail and hardly existent? He wore a warm winter jacket that reached his hips, while poor Tom had only secondhand sweaters, worn in layers that at least kept his upper torso warm, if not his bottom half.
I stepped aside, resigned. "Come in, Sir Logan, said the maiden in distress, and enjoy what you see."
He stepped closer, turned his head, seeming to peer around, while Tom hurried over to the stove and began to warm his hands, his feet, before he even bothered to take off a few sweaters. Fanny, crouched as close to the stove as possible, was not about to give up her place or her bed pallet, though she did set about combing her hair in a big hurry, and she fluttered her long black lashes and smiled at Logan invitingly. "Come sit here with me, Logan."
Tom ignored her, as did Logan. "Well," said Tom cheerfully, "this is home to us, Logan."
Obviously Logan didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
"You really don't need sunglasses in here, Logan," said I, moving to pick up Our Jane; then I sat to rock her back and forth in Granny's old rocker. The minute I did that, the squeaking of the floor
encouraged Grandpa to reach for his whittling and be1 t another rabbit. His eyesight for near work was very good, but once you were six feet away, he couldn't see much. I suppose I must have looked to him like Granny when she was young and holding a child on her lap. Keith ran to climb up on my lap as well, though he was getting too big and heavy for this kind of cuddling. Still, the three of us together warmed each other.
It was so embarrassing to have Logan here, at our poorest time. I busied myself wiping Our Jane's runny nose, and I tried to put her tousled hair in order. I didn't notice what Logan did until he was seated near the table, and he had his head turned my way. "It's a long, cold walk up this mountain, Heaven. The least you could do is make me feel welcome," he said with reproach in his voice. "Where's Sarah? I mean your mother."
"We don't have an indoor bathroom," I said harshly. "She's out there."
"Oooh . ." His voice was weak, his face flushed from my frank information. "Where's your pa?" "Working somewhere."
"I wish I could have known your granny. And I'm still sorry."
So was I.
So was Grandpa, who stopped whittling and looked up, a fleeting shaft of sorrow wiping away the contentment he'd just found in some memory image.
"Tom, I've got my hands full. Would you please boil some water so we can serve Logan hot tea, or cocoa?"
Tom stared at me with astonishment and spread his hands wide. He knew we didn't have tea or cocoa.
Still, he rummaged about in the almost empty cabinet, and came up with some of Granny's sassafras, giving Logan worried looks before he put the water on to boil.
"No, thank you, Tom, Heaven. I've got only a short time to stay, and it's a long trek back to Winnerrow. I want to get there before dark since I don't know my way like you do, being a city boy." Logan smiled my way, then leaned forward. "Heaven, tell me how you are. Surely your mother can look out for Our Jane when she's sick. And Fanny's stopped going to school-- why?"
