Free Julia's Last Hope by Janette Oke Page A

complaining wife and fussing children as he stirred cream and sugar into a second cup of hot tea.
    Making do, thought Julia. Making do—away from civilization. Though seething, Julia maintained her composure.
    “More tea, Mrs. Hammond?” she asked politely.
    “The last cup was a tad cold,” the woman snipped. “I do hope that shan’t be the norm.”
    Julia went to the kitchen to make a new pot. She detested fussiness, and they were being impossible.
    “I do hope that young ruffian is behaving himself in my backyard,” she mumbled to herself. Just then the kitchen door burst open and Felicity entered, her eyes wide.
    “Mama,” she exploded, “that boy is trying to tip over the swing!”
    “He’s what?”
    “He’s trying to tip it over. He’s swinging hard, and he said he’s going to go so high that it flips right over.”
    “Oh my!” exclaimed Julia on her way to the back porch.
    Tom was there by the time Julia arrived. He couldn’t reason with the young boy, and he couldn’t discipline the guests’ child, but he could thwart his action. Tom’s big, broad hand held the swing firmly so the boy, push as he might, went nowhere.
    Julia thanked Tom and returned to the kitchen. Felicity and Jennifer followed her.
    “How long will he be here, Mama?”
    “He kicked a flower pot all across the yard.”
    “He ate four cream puffs all by himself.”
    “He says he’s our boss and we are his servants.”
    “How long will he be here, Mama?”
    Julia sighed, and her eyes pleaded for the girls to be patient.
    Jennifer caught the message and nudged Felicity. Both girls fell silent.
    Julia drew her two daughters close. “I didn’t know that it would be this hard,” she admitted. “But we must do it. We must help Papa. Do you understand?”
    Both girls nodded.
    “It won’t be long. In fact, they are so unhappy with our accommodations that they might not even stay. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”
    Seeing hope in the girls’ eyes, Julia hurried on. “But we must try to keep them—to convince them. We must. Your papa—the—the other committee members—they are counting on us. Do you see? We must do the best we can—the very best—to endure.”
    Julia spoke the last word softly but with such determination that the girls knew how difficult the ordeal was for her. They nodded their consent.
    “Can we go to our room?” asked Jennifer.
    They had been told to wait on the porch in case the children needed entertaining. Julia could not ask that of them in the present circumstances. She nodded, and the girls left for the sanctuary of their room.
    Oh, if only I could run and hide in my room, thought Julia, but she couldn’t, so she picked up the pot of hot tea and the plate of sandwiches and returned to the parlor.
    “My, it takes a long time to make a pot of tea in the wild,” complained Mrs. Hammond. She refused the sandwiches, saying, “My waistline. One must not overindulge.”
    In spite of the difficult start, things did settle down over the next few days—or perhaps the residents of the big white house just adjusted.
    Mr. Hammond was determined to make his visit a wilderness adventure. He spent most of his hours walking mountain paths pretending, Julia surmised, to be the first man who had set foot on them. To the family, he talked incessantly of his “discoveries,” much to the annoyance of his wife and the boredom of his children.
    The young boy, Hadley, was directed to the vacated mill site, where he spent hours running over sawdust piles and investigating the small empty buildings the mill had left behind. He roared and ran and hooted and climbed, returning home for mealtimes in a dirty, dishevelled state. But at least he was out of everyone’s hair, and all those with whom he shared the house, including the Hammonds, seemed thankful for that.
    Felicity and Jennifer offered friendship to Miranda and Fredrika, but the city girls turned up their noses and continued to bicker and whine.