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The relief of feeling the porch beneath my feet allowed me to open my eyes for the first time and see how white our world was, not from new snow but from the old snow the wind banked around our crouched cabin. Tom fought to open the door, and then he shoved me through and quickly followed.
Stumbling inside, at first I couldn't focus my eyes, they were so heavily lidded with snow caught on my lashes. Fanny was screaming, and there was so much other noise. Startled, I looked around--only to freeze in shock and then feel the instant flaring hope.
Pa! Come home for Christmas Day ? Our prayers answered, at last, at last! He stood in the dim firelit room, gazing down at where Keith and Our Jane were huddled together for warmth. Even with Fanny dancing around and yelling her head off they slept on and on, as did Grandpa in his rocker.
Pa didn't seem to hear or see Tom and me as we quietly slipped into the room, keeping as far from him as possible. Something in his stance, in his manner as he gazed down at the two youngest, put me on guard.
"Pa," Tom cried joyfully, "ya've come back to us!"
Pa turned, his expression blank, as if he didn't know that large, flame-haired boy. "I've come t'bring a Christmas gift," he said dully, with no joy in his eyes.
"Pa, where ya been?" asked Tom, while I stood back and refused to greet him, just as he refused to look my way and acknowledge my presence.
"Nowhere ya'd care to hear about."
That's all he'd say before he fell to the floor beside Grandpa's rocker, and now Grandpa woke up enough to smile weakly at his son, and only too soon both he and Pa were snoring.
Bags and sacks and boxes of food were on the table. We could eat again, yet it wasn't until I was in bed that night that I wondered what wonderful gift Pa had brought home, so huge he couldn't carry it in. Clothes? Toys? He never brought us toys or candy, yet hopefully I longed for all of that.
Tomorrow was Christmas Day.
"Thank you, God," I whispered full of gratitude when I got up to pray on my knees by the bed; "you sent him in the nick of time, you truly did."
On Christmas morning I was cooking
mushrooms that Tom had found in a shallow woodsy ravine just yesterday, when Pa got up from the floor, went out briefly to use the outhouse, then strode back inside, unshaven and stale-looking, and plucked Our Jane and Keith from their warm, snug bed. He held them both easily in his strong arms, looking at each with affection, while they stared at him with wide, kind of frightened eyes, as if they no longer knew him. They were my children now, not his. He didn't love them as I did, or else he wouldn't leave them for so many days without enough food. Holding my tongue by sheer force of will, I kept on cooking the mushrooms.
For an extra treat today we'd have eggs, but I'd save the bacon until Pa went away again. I'd not waste even a thin slice on him.
"Hurry up with the meal, girl," barked Pa. "Got company coming."
Company?
"Where's the Christmas gift?" asked Tom, striding in from an hour of chopping wood.
Pa ambled to the nearest window, not noticing it was sparkling clean, and stared out. "Get these two dressed, and quick!" he ordered without meeting my eyes as he put Our Jane and Keith down on the floor.
Why did his eyes shine like that? Who was the company? Sarah? Could it be Sarah--was she our gift? How wonderful, absolutely wonderful!
Our Jane and Keith flew to me, as if I represented their mother, their security, their hopes and their dreams, and quickly enough I wiped both their faces. Soon I had them both dressed in their best, which was poor enough.
Life would get better now, I thought. I still possessed that childish optimism that refused to be dreary or depressed during the day. Steadfastly I held tight to hope, despite what I saw in Pa's eyes, sensed in the air, felt in my bones. Something--something bad. His cold, hard eyes glanced my way briefly before they lingered on Tom, Fanny, and, last of all, Keith and Our Jane.
Of all his five children he preferred Tom, and next Fanny. "Hi there, darlin," he said to her with a sweet smile. "Got another hug fer yer pa?"
Fanny laughed. She had a smile and a hug for anyone who noticed she was alive. "Pa, I prayed every night, every day, ya'd come back. Missed ya so much it hurt." She pouted her full lower lip and asked where he'd been.
I heard a car drive up outside and pull to a stop. I moved to the window to see in that car a stout man and his wife waiting, it seemed, for Pa's signal. Glancing at Pa, I could tell he was having a difficult time making up his mind as he lifted Fanny onto his lap and stroked her long black hair. "Now, you kids gotta face some hard facts," he began in a short, gruff way, with pain in his eyes. "Yer ma ain't never coming back. Hill folks are like that. Once they make up their minds, put action behind it, ain't nothing short of death can make em undo a decision. Not ever. What's more, don't want to ever see her again. If she shows her face here--I'll use my shotgun and blow it off." He didn't smile to show he was only joking.
Not one of us spoke.
"Now, I've found nice rich folks who can't have kids of their own, and they want one so much they're willin to pay good money for what they want. They want a young child. So it's gonna be either Keith or Our Jane. Now, don't none of ya yell out or say no, cause it has t'be done. If ya want t'see them grow up healthy and strong, and have nice things I can't afford to give them, ya keep yer mouths shut, and let this couple make their choice."
I went cold inside. All the hopes that had lit up were snuffed out in the harsh winds of knowing what Pa was going to do. Pa was Pa and would never, never change. A no-good, filthy, rotten, drunken Casteel! A man without soul or heart, not even for his own.
"It's my way to give Keith or Our Jane the best kind of Christmas gift--an don't none of ya go yellin an cryin an spoilin it. Ya think I don't love none of ya, but I do. Ya think I ain't been worried about what's goin on in this cabin, but I've worried. Been sick inside, sick outside, tryin to find a way to save ya all. An one dark night when I was sicker than any starvin dog in a gutter, it came t'me."
He bestowed on Fanny a charming smile, gave another to Tom, Keith, and Our Jane, but he didn't even look at me. "Already told yer grandpa. He thinks it's a good thing to do."
