Kim Vogal Sawyer by The Grace That Leads Us Home

Author:The Grace That Leads Us Home
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The new year dawned bright but empty of promise for Alice. On the first day of 1887, while the children still slept, she emptied her rent jar on the table and carefully counted the coins. Two silver dollars, three dimes, five nickels, and seven pennies. Two dollars and sixty-two cents. Barely half of what she needed to give to Mr. Horner.

She bit down on her lower lip, consternation striking. How would she raise another $2.38? Although she and Oscar had lived comfortably, they’d never bought anything extravagant. Thus she had nothing of great value to sell. She glanced around the room, taking in their humble furnishings, the shelf holding speckled tin plates and cups, and a single framed picture hanging on the plain plastered wall.

She rose and crossed to the large tintype, one taken on her wedding day. A smile tugged at her lips as she gazed at the image of Oscar’s face. Gentle lines fanned out at the corner of his eyes, and his hair, combed straight back, showed evidence of receding. Not a young man but such a good man. She’d been blessed to have him, even though eleven years wasn’t nearly long enough.

Shifting her attention to her own image, she shook her head slightly. The joy she’d felt that day didn’t show in her expression. The photographer had instructed them to hold very still, so they both looked rather stiff and serious. Even so, she treasured the picture. It evoked wonderful memories.

She fingered the edge of the oval gilt frame. Oscar had been aghast at the frame’s cost—an entire dollar even then. Would one of the merchants in town give her half that much for it now? How it pained her to think of parting with it, but she would always carry her memories. And she had to keep a roof over their heads. She took the frame from its hook on the wall and placed it on the table.

Steeling herself against the sorrow of another loss, she scrounged around the sitting room and her sleeping room, seeking other items that might be exchanged for a nickel or a dime or a quarter. She formed a pile next to the wedding photograph. Half a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs, two gold-plated chains—one with a faux ruby pendant and the other unadorned—a china platter painted with tiny purple violets around its rim, her best spring bonnet, Oscar’s gold tie pin. As she moved to investigate the contents of the cedar chest in the corner, Laura entered the room, rubbing her eyes.

The little girl stopped beside the table and frowned. “What’re you doing, Mama?”

Alice forced a cavalier shrug. “Oh, I’m just clearing out some space—getting rid of things I no longer need.”

Laura’s scowl deepened. She picked up the tie pin and smoothed her finger over its carved ivory head. “This is Papa’s.”

It was Papa’s, Alice’s thoughts corrected.

Laura set the pin down and pushed the handkerchiefs aside, revealing the platter. “You don’t want the plate Grandmother Foster gave you for your wedding present? You always said it was a very special plate and it would be mine someday.

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