Free The Wishing Star by Marian Wells Page A

school—even Matty’s old enough now. Maybe—” She couldn’t say job and work and money , but the thoughts were there. He frowned, glancing at her mother, and hauled back on the reins.
    Tom finally tipped the balance in favor of staying on in Manchester. Pa had stopped the wagon beside the livery stable to wait for him—herding the milk cow kept Tom lagging far behind the wagon.
    When he finally caught up, the pleased smile on his face slowly turned into a frown of concern as he looked at his mother, but his words were for his father. “The fella down the street asked me if we were stayin’. He says there’s a place over two streets for let. Man at the livery stable owns it. He’s lookin’ for a hand. Name’s Harris. I’m of a mind to see what he’ll offer.”
    Before nightfall, the Timmons were moved into the small log cabin on a shady street. The cow and the crate of chickens were settled in the makeshift barn. While Tom and Jenny unloaded the wagon, Nancy swept a season’s litter of dead leaves and dust out the door.
    Later Tom straightened the sagging stovepipe and started a fire in the little stove. Now Jenny watched Pa. He was hesitating in the doorway and she wondered what excuse he would find. He finally said, “I’m of a mind to mosey on down the street and see if I can find a piece of glass for that broken window.” Ma bit her lip and turned away.
    Before she could stop them, Jenny said the words Ma had given up on: “We can get along without glass for right now. Why don’t you just get some bread at that baker’s shop and stay clear of the tavern.”
    His mouth gaped with astonishment, and Jenny brushed past him. Her impulsive words had startled her beyond fear. Maybe they had startled him beyond response. Jenny, stiff with remembered pain, waited for the blow that didn’t come.
    When Pa disappeared down the street, Tom turned to Jenny. “Your smart talk ain’t usin’ good sense.”
    Ma added, “Jen, don’t be rilin’ him. It just makes it worse.” Jenny stared up at her mother, still unable to admit ownership of the words that had burst from her lips. Nancy clutched the broom, and Tom frowned.
    Slowly Ma sat down on the chair Tom placed for her, saying, “Jenny, your sass ain’t makin’ life easier for any of us. What’s got into you, child?”
    ****
    Very soon, while the golden days of autumn were still warm and before the crystal ice began lining the streams, Ma felt stronger and was out getting acquainted. Jenny and Nancy took turns going with her. Wrapped in her old black shawl to hide her bulging abdomen, though it was sometimes warm enough to bead perspiration on her lip, Ma slowly strolled down the streets and investigated every shop.
    One day when it was Jenny’s turn to walk with Ma, she noted her flushed face and said, “Ma, I’ll carry the shawl.”
    Ma’s face flushed even brighter. “Lands no, child. With a family this size, I don’t want to be pitied afore I even know my neighbors.”
    Jenny remained quiet, thinking new thoughts about being poor and having a pa like they had. She looked curiously at Ma, trying to see her as the neighbors would see her, but she couldn’t get past the rusty old shawl and the faded calico squeezed tight over her body. Tired eyes were always ready to beg the pardon of the nearest person. Today she wore a timid smile, half in hiding until called upon.
    When they stopped at the first gate, Ma hesitated, waiting for the woman sweeping her steps to look up. She was studying the neat house, and the frock the woman wore. Jenny knew Ma was calculating her chances of finding sewing. She also knew Ma was getting ready to pick at the woman’s thoughts. Jenny remembered from the past that Ma would come home with a pocketful of facts. Like Matt collecting his marbles, she examined each one and carefully