Thursday, September 19, 2013

Zebulon - Day 140 - Historical Fiction

After we went to bed that night, I only heard Grandma once during the middle of the night. I had gotten up to use the bathroom, and I thought I heard her crying. I felt sorry for her, even though she had been cruel to us; I suspected she was just unhappy and was taking it out on others. I had thought a lot about Marie's story of Grandma drinking and crying during the wee hours of the morning, and wondered what if she would ever soften up. I heard Grandda's rumbling bass voice, but couldn't hear what he was saying to her. I hoped he was telling her about Jesus, though, and how He could help her feel better inside.

I used the bathroom and went back to bed, praying myself to sleep. Waking up the next morning, I crawled out of bed, and the house was toasty warm. Grandda must have already built the fire. I was drawn into the kitchen, tantalized by the aroma of breakfast like it used to smell at home. NO! It couldn't be! Ma? Was she here already? I was disappointed to see it was only Rosie. But she had cooked breakfast for us! That was certainly unexpected, but welcome. 

The biscuits looked almost perfect and the bacon just a little brown, but I knew it would still taste good! Soon Marie and Les were awake and up, too, because the smell had drawn them into the kitchen as well. We quickly got the dishes and set the table so we could eat. I wondered what had gotten into Rosie; had she had a change of heart? We would see, I guessed. Rosie was setting a plate of fried eggs on the table, just as Grandda came in. We could see the confusion, followed by pleasure on his face. 

"Well, now, Martha Rose, that looks good enough to eat! Thank you, girl, for making our breakfast! You sure enough surprised me." He cocked one eyebrow at her and looked at her oddly. "You remind me of my girl, Mary Jane, when she wanted something," he said, wryly with a smile. "Are you wantin' something, girl?"

I glanced at him and then my siblings. Grandda was beginning to talk about his other children! This was something new. 

"Tell us about her, Grandda!" Les spoke up. 

"After while, maybe, not now. We can't let Martha Rose's good cookin' go to waste and get cold, now can we?"

He bowed his said and said a heartfelt grace that I knew was genuine, and I smiled inside my heart. 

Then we all tucked in to our breakfast. It was one of the best I had in a long time, because I had real hopes for a good outcome of our visit to Kentucky. 

We were just finishing up when I heard the ringing of church bells. I couldn't believe it! Out here in the middle of what I thought was nowhere...

"Grandda! How close is the church to here?" I wanted to know.  
"Why, it's just down the road about a half-mile. We generally walk it in about fifteen minutes 'er so. It begins in about half an hour, if you are of a mind to go. I'd kind a' like to go and tell 'em about really meetin' Jesus, but I can't go off and leave Martha Jane."

"I'll stay with her, Grandda," spoke up Rosie. I couldn't believe my ears! Was this the same Rosie that went to bed here in this house last night? What was going on here? Hmm. This bore some investigation, but later. 

"Really? Well, if she gets to hurtin', jist give her a tablespoon of that medicine on the dresser, and some water. She don't seem to be hungry. You might try to get her to eat some biscuit and jelly, if she will. She likes her coffee black, too. Thank you, Martha Rose! God bless you!"

We were soon in our heavy coats and hats, with boots on for the snow, and out the door toward the little church, and Rosie was waving us good-bye. I couldn't help wondering about her motivation, though, all during the way there. 

(To be continued) 

1 comment:

Delores said...

I'm wondering too. What is that little scamp up to?