Free Monday I Love You by Constance C. Greene

can’t leave you to fend for yourself, hon. No ifs or buts about it.”
    â€œTake me with you,” I begged. “I won’t be any trouble.” I pictured us traveling the roads, sleeping under hedges at night, in stacks of hay, eating bread and cheese by the side of a rippling brook. Oh, it would be wonderful, I told myself. While my father was out selling encyclopedias, I’d keep house in a cave. Or a tent. And when we felt like moving on, we’d move on. My father canceled my plans, however. Instead, he arranged for me to spend the summer with my aunt Rena, the same Rena who gave juicy kisses at the Gathering of the Schmitt Clan. He told his sister Rena that my mother had to go out west to take care of her ailing sister. Aunt Rena said she didn’t know my mother had a sister. My mother’s family had never been friendly with my father’s family, so my father said, sure, you remember her sister, the one with pigeon toes. My aunt Rena was none too proud of her failing memory, so she quit arguing and said I could stay if I was willing to work for my room and board.
    Rena had had a husband once but he got away. She made me wash twice a week and go to church with her every Sunday. I had a little room up under the eaves in her farmhouse. Oh, but it was boiling hot that summer. I didn’t mind. From my window I had a view of the valley and the cows that more than made up for the heat. I helped feed the hogs and chickens, and Aunt Rena taught me how to milk a cow. It was something, all right. Shooting that little stream of warm milk fresh from the cow’s udder, sometimes shooting it square into my mouth. I liked everything about that farm, that summer, even though Rena was a tough lady. She was always after me about something. Scrub the tub, take out the garbage, cut your toenails. No wonder Rena’s husband got away.
    I couldn’t take my eyes off Aunt Rena’s elbows. From the back, with the sleeves of her checked shirt rolled up well so she could drive the tractor better, her elbows looked like the faces of little gnarled people. There was so much skin rippling around Aunt Rena’s elbows, it tucked and folded itself into funny little mouths and ears and noses. I couldn’t get over it. I made it a habit to ride directly behind her in the tractor so I could keep an eye on her elbows and watch the faces change expression when Rena shifted into first or slammed on the brakes. It was better than a puppet show.
    My father came several times that summer, on the way from one place to another. He liked his job selling encyclopedias, but he said people weren’t up to buying a whole lot. Money was tight.
    â€œNever known it to be loose,” Aunt Rena said, sniffing. “Heard from Grace, Frank? How’s her sister doing? Seems like she’s been gone a long time. The child misses her mother. Don’t you, Grace?” and Aunt Rena’s eye fixed on me, an event I always dreaded. I thought Rena’s eyes could see through me, into my head, knew what I was thinking. It was eerie.
    â€œSeems like there’s more here than meets the eye.” And Rena’s eye went to my father. I went outside to see if a storm was coming. I’d got really good at reading clouds that summer. Besides, I didn’t want to be there when my father was quizzed. Sooner or later Rena’d get the straight goods out of him. I wondered where my mother was, if she was thinking about us. But it was amazing how little I missed her. Living on the farm was fun. There was so much to do, so many animals to tend to, so much nature. Nature can be very absorbing, I found, once you get used to it. Once you know something about it.
    There was a boy named Eric, a hired hand, Aunt Rena called him, who helped out with the heavy work. He had broad shoulders and blond hair, and he was sort of cute. He lived up the road from our farm. He was fourteen, and though he didn’t talk much, he