Mary Bobbie by Kathryn Spurgeon

Author:Kathryn Spurgeon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 1930s historical novel, Christian short story, Inspirational short story, Christian historical novel, Historical novel based on true events, Oklahoma book, 1930s book, dust bowl book, based on true story novels, popular historical novels, historical novel series, inspirational series, inspirational historical novel, short story
Publisher: Memory House Publishing, LLC
Published: 2018-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The men wandered down the street to examine a stallion Tommy had recently purchased. Jennie, Ann, and the littlest boys had gone to take a nap, which left Till and I the only ones in the living room.

I yawned and leaned back in the rocking chair, stretching my arms over my head before I slouched down into its comfort. That huge Christmas dinner made me wish I could doze a little, but I might not have another chance to talk with Till alone. I needed to play my role as big sister, finding ways to cheer up the family and handle any problems.

Till spread out on the sofa facing me and pulled up Mama’s worn quilt to cover her knees. When she got situated, she heaved a big sigh.

“Haven’t talked to you much since the Shields reunion last summer.” Mama, a Shields before she married, had family in the area up north.

“Been quite a year,” said Till, which meant she didn’t want to discuss her life.

Sometimes it takes serious talking to get the needles out in the open to pull the prickliness out. And Till had lots of prickliness. I determined to dig deeper. “Dearie, so how are you doing?”

“Been tough,” Till admitted, a fake lilt to her voice. “But we’re making it—even with Frank drinking like booze is free as water. Jennie thinks I should leave him, but no one understands how hard it is. What would I do if I left him?”

I kept silent.

Till looked at me for a good minute before she said, “All right. All right. Frank’s drinking shakes me up. But I can’t leave him now.”

“I know you want to stick it out, but there are times when it’s best to give up on your dreams and start new ones. Maybe this is the time.”

“I can’t leave him. I haven’t told anyone, but I’m pregnant again.”

“Again?” I felt thoughtless, but this was her eighth pregnancy, and she was almost forty-two years old. Did she have no sense?

“My boys are all I have left, and I’m trying to protect them. Never expected Frank to hurt Junior though. That was lousy of him to ruin the boy’s Christmas like that. ”

“Oh, I think Frank Junior’s just fine. He’s already outside playing ball again.”

“He is?” Till leaned up as to run outside and thrash the child.

“Don’t worry. I checked on him.”

Till sat back down and heaved like the worry was too much for her.

“I understand how much the boys mean to you. I mean, I understand about going through hard times.”

“I suppose you do. But sometimes personal things are tough to talk about.”

Should I share my painful past with Till? Maybe if I shared my shame about Oma Jean, Till might open up and let go of some of her pain. I could talk about it and leave out the part that held my guilt hostage. “It was nearly eight years ago,” I said, “but it might help both of us if I talked about it.”

Till nodded and kicked off her shoes.

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