Chapter 2
Partings
When John came Saturday night, Alice gave him the answer he wanted to hear. There was a lot of jovial talking and back slapping on the part of Jim and John. Lola took her mending off to the bedroom. She did not care to hear their foolish jesting. She could not bear to think of Alice's fate, but she felt completely powerless to change things.
A little later, Katie followed Lola into the bedroom. "Mamma, what kind of knot is John going to tie Alice up in?"
Lola smiled in spite of her dejection. "That is just a way of saying that John and Alice are going to get married. Alice is going away to live with John."
"Oh," was Katie's only comment, but her face took on a sad expression. All of the children had learned to love Alice as a sister.
The very next Saturday, John came for Alice. She clung to Lola, sobbing, "I'm going to miss you terribly. You have been like a mother to me. Thank you, thank you, Aunt Lo, for opening your home and heart to me."
Lola, embracing her, could only pat her lovingly. Her heart was too full for words.
Then Alice hugged and kissed each of the girls, whispering endearments in their ears. To Katie, the oldest, she whispered, "Help your mamma all you can. Try to make things easier for her."
Her wet cheek against theirs gave the little girls an impression of something terrible about to happen. Getting married must be something scary, strange, and sad.
Except for the loud talking and laughing of the men, it would have seemed like a funeral. But Jim was slapping John on the back saying, "Congratulations, old partner, you got yourself a real peach there." He winked his eye and the two guffawed loudly.
Then John spied the little girls shrinking back in terror. Reaching for Mary, who was nearest him, he teased, "Ain't cha gonna kiss yo cousin bye now?"
"You're not my cousin," she cried out angrily as she slipped from his grasp.
This only caused more loud laughter. Jacky and Jimmie submitted to John's hand shaking and cousinly claims a bit more gracefully, but they did not laugh with the men. They, too, caught the sense of pending doom from the tears of the women.
After John and Alice had gone, the little girls huddled on the steps together, but little Mary kept eyeing her daddy fearfully. Finally, tears began to slip down her cheeks.
She jumped off the steps and ran around the house to her favorite spot under the oak tree and fell on the ground sobbing. Lola had started to leave her work in the kitchen to go to Mary and comfort her, when she saw an unusual thing. She stood motionlessly, staring at the scene under the oak tree.
Jim had followed Mary, and squatting beside her, gathered her up in his arms, and asked, "What's the matter, Girlie?"
Mary had tried to speak, but she could only cry hysterically.
"Come now," Jim tilted her face and attempted to dry her tears. "Everything will be all right."
Lola blinked her eyes. Was she imagining things? Was Tim actually trying to console little Mary? New hope filled her heart. He had never paid any attention to the children before. Was Alice's going, like her coming, going to have its blessings, too?
Mary had snuggled up close to her much-admired, unapproachable daddy, and in her new status as cuddled daughter, she picked up enough courage to blurt out, 'Daddy, you won't bring nobody for me, will you?"
Jim only looked at her puzzled.
Stiffening in defiance, little Mary declared, "If you bring somebody for me, I'll hate him! I'll hate him like I do John. I will, I will."
When Jim only stared at her in astonishment, she began to sob again and to beg, "Please, Daddy, you won't bring nobody for me, will you, Daddy?"
"Wait a minute, Girlie, I don't know what you're talking about. You shouldn't hate nobody, Mary, as sweet and young as you are." He shuddered. "What's the matter? Are you worried about Alice?"
When Mary nodded her head wordlessly, he said, "Why, you don't need to worry about her. John is going to give her a fine home all her very own. She'll have good food to eat and new clothes to wear. Why, she'll have things a lot nicer than she ever had here."
Mary was quieted by this. "Really, Daddy? Do you really mean it?" She looked up, searchingly, into his face.
"Sure, Mary." He patted her tear-stained cheek. "She'll have good meat and bread, and cakes and pies to eat. John will buy her milk and eggs for breakfast. Why, Mary, you can't imagine how happy Alice will be with her pretty new dresses and shoes."
Still not quite convinced, Mary protested, "But, Daddy, she didn't look at all happy. She looked scared." The tears welled up again as she remembered the sad parting.
Jim cleared his throat and stood to his feet, dumping Mary gently to the ground. Looking off into the distance, he said, "Aw, Mary, she cried a little because she was leaving us. You know, we're all the family she has. But she wasn't scared, she was just excited." He coughed nervously and kicked at a dirt clod that lay on the ground.
"Come on, Girlie, let's go see what we can find to eat. I'm hungry as a wolf."
Wiping her eyes on her dress tail, Mary stood to her feet to follow Daddy into the kitchen.
Lola lived in great hopes those days. Even though she missed Alice terribly, Jim was staying home and providing for his family by logging, making cross ties and gathering pine knots to sell. He had even begun to show a little attention to the children, especially to Mary. Lola had never seen Mary so happy and carefree. She giggled at everything and hopped, skipped, and jumped throughout the day. Though she could not carry a tune, she attempted to sing the little songs that Katie had learned at school and sang to her. And she was on hand to help all who needed help. As Lola watched her antics, she had mixed emotions. She was glad that conditions had improved so that Mary could know what real happiness was, but on the other hand, she felt a dread that Mary's happiness would be short-lived.
"Mamma, did you know that Alice has cakes and pies to eat and pretty dresses to wear and new shoes?"
Lola patted her little head and smiled sadly. She wished it would be like that for Alice but she had her doubts.
After several weeks had passed and Alice did not come to visit, Lola casually said to Jim, "I wonder why Alice doesn't come over."
"Oh, they're not living over at his folks' place. They moved to Taylor Hill."
Lola was bitterly disappointed. Although the marriage had necessarily taken Alice from their home, Lola had hoped for her. companionship as a neighbor at least. Now she would probably never see her. She felt as if she had lost a daughter.
There was never any reasoning to Jim's drinking habits. It was not long until he left again and was gone an unusually long time, and when he returned he brought very little food for his family.
"I'm sorry, Lola, I just haven't had much work," he excused himself. "No work, no money, no victuals, you know."
She felt like lashing out at him, "You had money for your liquor." But she had learned that this only made matters worse, especially with the children all in hearing distance. So without a word, she took the grass sack that he had put on the floor and began to examine its contents. There were the usual dried beans, one sack of meal, some lard, salt, sugar, a bar of yellow soap for washing, and a bag of rice.
"No flour?" she asked dryly.
"I bought what I could, Lola. There's some grits under that sack of meal. That should hold you until I can get out a few logs."
But before he could 'get out a few logs,' he was gone again. Depression enveloped Lola once more as she saw hm disappear around the curve in the road. "Maybe I should have told him about my condition," she thought sadly. "But I guess it's best I didn't. He would regard it as nothing." If only there was a close friend she could confide in but there was no one who cared. She thought of Alice. If she would only come to see them. How it would help to be able to talk to someone.
For the first time in a long time, she thought of her parents. An unspeakable longing swept over her to see her mother one more time, to be clasped
in her arms as she had been as a child. Oh, how she wished she could sit down with her and have a heart-to-heart talk. She longed to let her know that she loved her and needed her now as never before in her life. "I'll write my parents tomorrow, and express my love for them," she purposed. "I'll apologize for all the heartache and grief I've caused them and let them know that I long to see them." She wiped her eyes as her thoughts turned from her parents to her immediate problems.
The little food that Jim had brought would not last long. She never had enough to satisfy the children's hunger. It had rained so much in the spring that their potatoes had rotted in the ground and they were so late getting their garden planted that there were just no "extras" to depend on. The few berries they had picked had not helped much. Lola was literally starving herself to death in sacrifice for her children. With her physical ailment, her lack of nourishment soon began to take its toll on her body. As she sat on the porch long after Jim left, she thought of the times that she had felt so wretched upon awakening that she was forced to call for Jimmie and Jacky, or sometimes even Katie to carry out instructions for cooking, cleaning, and washing.
Because of pride and the bitterness she felt, she decided against letting Jim know her true condition. She had forced herself out of bed and about her tasks when he was home. He did not seem to notice how tired she looked and how she trembled as she went about her work. Though she felt depressed now with all her troubles, yet in a way, it was a relief that Jim was gone. She wouldn't have to drag around the house all day doing work that was beyond her strength. Now she could remain in bed and let the children help when it was necessary.
One day something happened that caused Lola to stop and think seriously. She was sitting up on the side of the bed when Katie burst out, "Mamma, what's the matter with your legs? Look how fat they are." She had not realized just how bad off she was until Katie had drawn her attention to this peculiar swelling.
"Maybe I should send for a doctor," she thought. But immediately, she cast that out as an impossibility. At least they weren't in debt, even if they were outcasts and a disgrace to the neighborhood because of Jim's drinking and their poverty. She would not make a debt she would be unable to pay. So she lay back in bed and had Jimmie to fix an old box to prop her legs up on, hoping that everything would turn out all right in the end.
She alternated between wishing Jim would come home and wishing he would stay away. She was so sick she hardly knew what she wanted. The children were having to manage the household affairs on their own.
One night, Lola got a terrified feeling that she was going to die. She felt she would smother with the thought of it. She called for Katie, but the child was sleeping so soundly and Lola's voice was so weak, that it did not arouse her. As Lola lay alone in the dark with troubled thoughts of approaching death, she began having mental pictures of her childhood. She saw the face of her grandmother, and it was almost as if she was talking to her as he had so long ago.
"Lola," it seemed she was saying, "I'm concerned about the way you're living. You know that sin doesn't pay. If you continue on like you're going, you'll have to reap, Lola, if not in this life, then in the hereafter. Why don't you ask God to forgive your sins and let Him have His way in your life? He can give you a life of peace on earth, and then eternal peace and joy in Heaven after you die.”
"Oh God," she moaned, "Grandma was so right. I have reaped dearly in this life and now it looks like I'll continue reaping in hell." She turned her head from side to side and closed her eyes tightly trying to shut out unwanted thoughts, but there was no getting rid of them. "Oh God," she prayed feebly, "Is there any hope for me after I've gone my own way all these years? I'm so afraid of death--of hell." She shuddered. "Oh, I wish I would have listened to Grandma when she tried to warn me," she whispered in the dark. "I thought she was an old fogey then, but now I realize what a sweet Christian she was." She turned over in bed and tried to sit up. "If only I could get one of the children awake. I 'm so afraid. I wish daylight would hurry and appear," she thought. But it was only midnight; daylight was a long ways off.
She doubled her pillow under her head and lay still once more. She wished her thoughts could be blotted out with the blessedness of sleep, but she was wide awake. Once again, she tried to pray. Could God hear her? Would God hear her? "I know I'm not worthy that you should ever listen, dear God, but oh, how I need you," she pleaded.
Perhaps it was her own confession of unworthiness that brought back with poignant clarity more of her grandmother's words, "I'm praying for you, Lola. I'm believing God to bring you to repentance, if He has to get you in a corner to do it. When that day comes, He will be waiting for you, Dear. Just call on Him with a penitent heart and He will hear you. He is not willing that any should perish. He died to redeem the lost from hell. Repent and believe, Lola, and Jesus will be there with outstretched arms. He can change you, make a new person out of you. Oh Lola, Honey, why don't you let Him save you just now?"
"Oh, if I had only listened to Grandma," she thought sorrowfully, "instead of being so scornful. How different my life would have been! I've been so miserable and had such little happiness." Looking to God once again, she prayed, "Oh God, I do believe You died to save me. I do believe You can change me. I'm so sorry for my many sins. I want to be different from now on and teach my children a better way of life."
As she prayed, her past loomed up before her like a mountain. All her ugly sins since her childhood days paraded through her mind, her rebellion, her arguments with her parents and her defiance toward them. She had been very stubborn in her life, always wanting her own way.
There was one consolation here, and that was that she had written her parents a few weeks before and apologized for all she had put them through and expressed her love for them and her desire to see them. Oh, she was so thankful that she had written that letter. And the sweet letter of forgiveness she had gotten back from her dear mother--such a tender response so filled with love. Her parents were both ailing and perhaps this had tendered her mother. As she thought of it all now, she felt somewhat comforted concerning her parents. Her heart was filled with deepest love for them.
But there was her wretched life with Jim. How much of it was she to blame for? Her thoughts traveled back to the day they were married as she took inventory. It seemed that every detail of their life together flashed through her mind. She shook her head as if to rid herself of thinking she was so weary. But still the thoughts continued to come. She saw herself in a new light with many faults and failures that she had never dared own up to before. She realized that because of her own bitterness she was partially to blame for Jim's failures. Oh, how sorry she felt for the bitterness she had harbored and for the times she had created Jim so cold and scornful. "Perhaps if I had shown him love instead of bitterness, he would have been a different man," she admitted to herself.
Once again she thought of God. Could He bring peace to such a troubled heart? Grandma said He would, so she began to pray again, "Oh, God, my sins are numerous and black, but Grandma said if I'd confess them and ask forgiveness, I could find peace. I'm so sorry, Lord, for all my sins and failures. They're too heavy for me to bear. Will you please forgive my sins and bring peace to my heart? Oh, Lord, I believe that you love me as Grandma said. I believe that you want to make a new person out of me. I believe--" she hesitated and then continued, "Yes, Lord, I do believe that you forgive my sins just now."
She lay exhausted, at the end of herself, waiting, believing that somehow God was hearing her desperate pleas.
And in the stillness, a sweet peace suffused her being and she knew that God had taken away her heavy burden of sin and had come into her heart in answer to her prayer and confession. Her heart was at rest. How wonderful she felt with all condemnation gone. The bitterness over the loss of Billy seemed to have melted away and in its place a love engulfed her. She was amazed at the love she felt for Jim, who she had always felt was so wrong in all he did. She smiled when she t
hought how she was going to prove her love for him when he came home again. Perhaps with love and kindness, he would quit drinking and provide a better home for his family. With an overwhelming peace flooding her soul, she relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.
When she awoke, the sun was shining in through the window and the children were moving quietly about the house. She could hardly believe that she had slept so long and so peacefully. Then she thought of her experience during the night and for a moment she wondered if it was only a beautiful dream; but the warm feeling was still there, and the peace that only God could give. It was not a dream but a precious reality.
She tried to sit up but was unable to. Once again, she had the feeling that she was going to die. She had thought the night before, after God had saved her, that she was going to get well, but this morning she was not so sure.
She called to Jimmie. When he came, she instructed him to call the other children. "I have something to tell you all," she said weakly.
Jimmie felt instant alarm. Now thirteen, he was old enough to recognize that his mother was very ill.
When the children were gathered, Lola began, "I want you all to always remember that your mamma loves you very dearly. But though I love you and would like to be able to take care of you and watch you grow up into manhood and womanhood, I have a feeling that maybe I won't be with you much longer."
"Why, Mamma?" Mary cried in alarm, "Will Daddy bring someone to take you away and give you a nice home and a new dress and lots and lots to eat?"
"Hush, Mary." Mamma was crying now.
"I'm sorry, Mamma, but I was just thinking of Alice. Why are you going away? I don't want you to go away, Mamma. Please, please don't go away." She locked her little arms around Lola's arm and held on as if to hold her.
This outburst made it increasingly difficult for Lola to continue to try to prepare the children for what she believed to be the inevitable. She lay in silence a few moments, stroking Mary's little head with her other hand and trying to compose herself to continue. Finally she said, "Children, what I'm going to tell you is very important. Don't interrupt me any more. Just listen and keep very still for I can't talk very loud." She cleared her throat and started again.
"Years ago, I had a grandmother who was a Christian. A Christian is someone who lives for God. God is someone we can't see who lives up in Heaven and rules the world. He desires that everybody should live for Him, but most people live for themselves." She turned over on her side so that she could face them as she talked. "My grandmother prayed to God that He would change me so that I too could be a Christian, so that I would live for Him and have peace in my heart. But I was rebellious. I did not want God's way; I wanted my own way. I wouldn't mind God and live a Christian life as my grandmother tried to get me to, for I loved the pleasures of sin and didn't want to give them up. But I've found out that the way I chose did not satisfy, it did not make me happy at all.
"Last night when I was so sick, I remembered the things Grandma told me and I wished I would have listened to her. I longed for that peace that she said God could give. So I prayed to God, whom my grandmother served so faithfully, and asked Him to make me a Christian like Grandma, to give me the peace she had. Though I don't deserve God's mercy because I've spent my whole life living for myself, yet God heard my prayers and forgave all my sins, and gave me a deep-settled peace within. I am now a Christian, children, like my grandmother was. Thank God for her prayers and faith in the God she served. If it hadn't been for her prayers and faithfulness to my soul, I would never have found this peace." She paused for strength as she wept silently for joy because of her experience with God. The children stole shy glances at one another but no one spoke.
"After a few moments, Lola continued, "I want you to know about God so you can pray and have peace in your hearts while you are young, and go to Heaven when your life is through. So I'm going to tell you a Bible story that I learned in Sunday School. I hope you'll never forget it, and that you will grow up to live for God. And boys," she looked at Jimmie and Jacky, "don't ever take one drop of liquor. You see what it's done to your poor daddy, and how it has caused us to never have enough to eat and never have decent clothes to wear." Again she paused, wondering if she would have strength to finish.
"The story I want to tell you is about a rich man who didn't obey God, but lived to please himself. When he died, he went to a place called hell where there are flames of fire. There he was tormented. He begged for a drop of water to cool his tongue, but nobody would help him. You see, he had made his decision while he was living, and when he was dead, it was too late to change.
"But there was another man in the story. He lived for God. He made up his mind while he was living, to obey God's commands, and when he died, he went to a beautiful place called Heaven, where there is peace and happiness forever with God. So you see, there is a sad part and a happy part to the story. And it shows that you have to make up your minds, each one of you, whether your life will be a happy story or a sad story. Never forget what I'm telling you.
"If God sees fit to let me stay with you awhile longer, I will buy a Bible and read it to you and teach you more about Jesus and Heaven. But if He sees fit to take me on, you will know that I'm in a beautiful place, living with Grandma and others who live in Heaven, worshiping God and enjoying all the things that He has prepared for us there. There will be no sickness or sadness there, and if you will let God save you, some day you can come to Heaven and live forever with us. I've asked God to save all of you, as well as Daddy, so that some day we will be together again." Her voice was a bare whisper now and the children drew in closer to catch her words.
She lay in silence a few moments, breathing heavily, and then added, "Jimmie, if God takes me to Heaven before Daddy comes home again, you can go for Mr. Simmons. He will know what to do. Do the best you can, Son, for the little ones. I've committed all of you to God and asked Him to watch over you in His tender love and mercy."
Jimmie's shoulders drooped as he bit his lips to still their trembling. A pained expression appeared on his countenance .
There was an awkward silence and then Lola smiled and said gently, "Go fix the gruel, Katie. Measure it very carefully and don't spill a grain. We must make it stretch as far as possible. Surely Daddy will bring something soon," she added wistfully.
Jimmie stayed very near Mamma's bedside the remainder of the day. If Daddy would only come to share the responsibility. He longed for Alice. She would know what to do. Glancing up, he saw Mary sitting on the floor at the head of her mother's bed. She was quiet, picking at a piece of cotton wadding sticking out from the mattress. The tears were trickling down her cheeks and her look was one of frustration. A surge of panic swept over Jimmie, and he felt like running and giving vent to the awful feeling within. But he smothered the desire and sat quietly. There was a death-like silence in the house. No one felt like talking.
The day passed slowly and after a supper of more meal gruel, Katie helped to tuck Mary and Sue in bed and crawled in beside them.
Jimmie yet sat by Mamma's bed. She had slept most of the day and had refused the gruel he offered her. Now, he heard her call his name.
He jumped to his feet. "I'm right here, Mamma," he answered as he stroked her fevered brow.
"Jimmie, if Daddy doesn't come home before I go, tell him I'm sorry for my part in making our lives together so miserable.”
Jimmie only mumbled. A stony look stole over his face as he clenched his fists. "No, Mamma," he whispered to himself where she could not hear, "I'll never give him that message and let him blame you for everything when he's to blame himself."
About midnight, the door was pushed open and Jim walked in. He had come home with a new resolve to reform. He had brought an abundant supply of groceries and a piece of yard goods for Lola and the girls' new dresses. When his eyes became accustomed to the dim light by his wife's bed, he was greatly shocked at what he saw. Lola was in a stupor.
"Wh
at's the matter with her, Jimmie?" he asked broken as he approached her bed. Jimmie didn't answer, but Jim saw immediately that she was near death. He realized that it was too late to call a doctor, too late to bring food, too late to amend his ways, too late to buy her a new dress--" He knelt by her bed, put his head on his arm and wept bitterly. Raising his head once again, he asked huskily, "How long has she been like this?"
"She took a turn for the worse a couple of hours ago," Jimmie answered stiffly.
Jim took her hand in his, bent over the wasted form and with tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping off his chin, he cried, "Lola, Lola, can you ever forgive me? Can you hear me, Lola? I came home to stay this time, Lola, really and truly I did. I was going to prove to you that I could make you a good husband. I love you, Lola, I love you."
Lola roused as if in a dream and a faint smile appeared on her lips. Something about that smile reminded Jim of his girl-bride of sixteen years ago,and he kissed her tenderly as he had on that other day when she had been so radiantly happy. Then she was gone.