From Mourning to Joy

breakfast? Take the taste of liver out of Davey’s and my mouth.”
“You don’t like it either? Why did you save it?”
“Not everyone has the same taste buds when it comes to eating organs. And I’ve been desperate enough to fry it over a campfire in the past. A man does what he’s got to do.”
“Fish sounds like a nice treat, Bernie. We’ll dress warm and head out after flat cakes.”
“Again?” he teased. “What a man wouldn’t do for eggs. I saw some for sale at the general store – a short ride for a fella with a hankering for a change in diet.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” She reached for the door and opened it. “You can be most persistent, Bernie Drysdale.”
He tipped his hat and started off toward the barn, the lantern swinging in step with his easy stride and the melody of his whistle ringing into the clear night. The man was tall and slim, not at all hard to look at even from behind.
Davey could barely sit still during breakfast. “I know where Pappy stashed the poles, Mr. B., but we’ll have to rig one up for Ma.” He cast a look sideways while chewing on a large piece of pancake. “Can’t believe you’re tagging along. Did you ever fish before?”
“Not in the winter, but I’m sure they’re swimming down there somewhere, just as hungry as we are and willing to nibble at your bait.” She sat upright. “What will we use for bait. The worms are hiding deep in the ground.”
“Chopped ice this morning and scooped up some minnows. Found us a spot that’s aching to be fished,” said Bernie.
“What time were you up?” Janelle asked.
“Just before the sun peeped over the horizon. Body can’t sleep late with oinkers nearby. Pretty sure I heard one of them begging for a new home. Probably don’t like sleeping with me either.” He chuckled. “The new outbuildings shot to the top of my list of things that needed done. Going to build new quarters for pigs, hens and chickens.”
“Maybe if I went job hunting, I’d be able to afford some of those laying hens you’re dreaming about, Bernie,” said Janelle.
“Ah, Ma. You know it’s your dream, too,” chimed in Davey.
“You’re considering working in town?” asked Bernie.
“It would help to set me up for spring. I could tell Joseph Shields at the diner I only need work ‘til I can get on the land. He might give me something to do.”
Bernie did not encourage or discourage her decision. Independence was important to her and if working would help set her up as a real farmer, so be it. “That’d give me time alone without a woman to pester me to get this place in tip-top shape. Ain’t that right, boy?” he bantered with Davey.
“Yes, sir. And I’ll race home after school to lend a hand.” The child’s face beamed and they laughed.
“How about we all go to town tomorrow? Give you time to make that grocery list and I’ll work on the transportation this afternoon.”
“Yes, I suppose I should go to town. Let me think on it.” Janelle shook off burdensome thoughts of sponging off this hired man yet again or the displeasure she felt when considering working outside her home. She forced her face to brighten. “Right now, I’m ready for the adventure at the river,” said Janelle.
Davey was on his feet and headed for the door. “Come on, Mr. B. We’ll make the rod while Ma cleans up.”
Bernie looked at Janelle. “Dress warm and bring mats to sit on the cold rocks. Might want to tie up your dress or put a pair of trousers on so you don’t get wet.”
“Trousers?”
“A woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do,” Bernie said playfully as he touched the tip of his cowboy hat and left the house.
All the while she scrubbed the dishes clean, she considered the idea. She still had a couple pair of Jacobs’ packed in a crate in the corner of her room. He was a small man but she’d still float in his clothes. When she realized vanity had entered the debate in her head, she pulled the pants out. “Easy girl,” she warned herself, as she yanked the material over her long wool stockings. A thin rope, which Janelle used in her room as a clothesline to hang her undergarments out of sight, was unfastened and strung through the loops at the waistline. After donning a wool plaid shirt, and tucking it under the leggings, she tugged the cord tight, the balloon effect tightening into acceptable sloppy fishing attire.
Janelle went to the small mirror and picked up a brush. Her long blonde hair was braided and wrapped in circles on top of her head. A cap finished off the new look and she stood back and laughed at herself. Before she had time to chicken out Davey rushed in and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Well, I’ll be. If it ain’t Pappy come back to go fishing with us.” Davey made it sound so natural, not emotional or sappy, just matter-of-fact.
Another head popped inside the doorway. Bernie grinned from ear to ear and Janelle’s heart leaped at his obvious admiration. She blushed and felt embarrassed. If only her son knew what she’d been thinking – wearing his father’s clothes and contemplating pleasing another man’s vision of her.
“Looks like we’re all ready.”
Janelle joined in the merriment. “Look out little fishes cause here we come.”
She handed Bernie the small mats and he held out a rod. “Your son picked the strongest branch with the sole purpose that you’d have the best pole. Then he kissed it for luck.”
Janelle blushed at the way he said kissed it and she felt a tease resurrect from some locked place in her heart – one she felt certain had died with