Morning Star by Judith Plaxton Page B

chair.
    â€œI’ll make some tea, then,” said Mrs. Jenson. She
placed the kettle on the stove and brought mugs to the table. “Here now,” she
addressed her children, “make room for everyone.” She gestured to Eldon, Cleo,
and Flower, who watched space being made for them, then sat down.
    â€œHow’s about yourself? Will you be wanting some tea
as well?”
    A voice from the cot, raspy and weak, answered,
“I’ll try some.”
    The driver said, “A nice cup of tea—just the thing
to perk us all up.” He walked to the table and sat down.
    Mrs. Jenson poured tea. No biscuits were served.
She brought a mug to her husband, helped him raise himself onto one elbow, and
then held the mug close to his mouth so he could sip it. When he had had enough,
he flopped back down with a sigh, and she came back to the table.
    â€œHettie, come and have some tea.”
    The girl left the rocking chair, placed the baby
back in Mrs. Jenson’s lap, and sat down beside Flower. No one spoke; the only
sounds were the swallows of tea from mugs and the wind outside. Cleo unwrapped
Gabriel from his sling. He sat up in her lap, spied a spoon, and reached for it.
Successful, he stuck it in his mouth and surveyed the group around the table,
his gaze stopping at the Jenson infant. Both babies regarded each other with
solemn expressions until Gabriel waved the spoon in the air and made a joyful
cry. The other baby laughed. His mother offered him a spoon.
    Cleo said, “What handsome children you have.”
    A glimmer of a smile played on Mrs. Jenson’s lips.
She could not conceal her pride in her brood. “That is the truth.”
    â€œMany helpful hands.”
    Mrs. Jenson’s face became downcast once more. “Not
enough help for all that needs doing, I’m afraid.”
    â€œWe are able to help, not just hide,” said
Eldon.
    Mrs. Jenson looked across the table at him. Her
glance was shy but appraising. “You look strong enough.”
    â€œThat I am.”
    â€œYou must speak to my husband.”
    Flower’s father got up from the table and, within
two paces, stood at the makeshift bedside. “I’m sorry for your trouble.” He
stood tall and straight, towering over the slight figure beneath the
blanket.
    â€œYes. I’ve come to a sad pass.”
    â€œTell me what needs doing.”
    â€œThe harvest is still in the fields and on the
trees, waiting to rot. Tools are getting rusty, fences falling down.”
    â€œI’ll be glad to make things right in exchange for
a safe refuge for myself and my family.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    â€œNo one comes to help you? Do your neighbors drop
by?”
    â€œWe have no neighbors to speak of. The missus goes
to town occasionally for supplies. She can manage that.”
    Mrs. Jenson spoke up. “Children, outside now!” She
handed the baby again to Hettie, so Cleo passed Gabriel into Flower’s
outstretched arms.
    Hettie led the way to the porch. She and Flower sat
down on the top step with both babies facing each other. The boys settled at
their feet.
    â€œSing us a song, Hettie,” one of the brothers
commanded.
    â€œGive me a minute.” Hettie readjusted the squirming
infant in her lap, then sat and studied Gabriel and Flower. “Your skin is
brown,” she said.
    Flower, in turn, regarded Hettie and her family.
She had never seen such pale people. Their hair was yellowy white, their eyes
light gray, and their skin seemed almost transparent, spattered with tiny tan
spots across their noses. “You all have hardly any color.”
    â€œSometimes the sun burns us red, but then it goes
away.”
    â€œDoes that hurt?”
    â€œA little. What’s your baby’s name?”
    â€œGabriel.”
    â€œLike the angel in the Bible?”
    â€œThe very one. And he is a little angel, aren’t
you?” She gave Gabriel a hug, and he snuggled against her.