Family Reminders Read Online Free

now that you’re doing my share of the chores as well as your own. You don’t need to be doing Mr. Stewart’s work as well.”
    “Oh, fiddle, Daniel. I’m doing laundry anyway. Besides, poor Mr. Stewart is an old man and needs the help,” Mama said, pouring Daddy more coffee.
    “Well, I don’t like it, and I don’t want you to do it.”
    “Daniel, you listen to me,” Mama said as she sat down beside him. Her voice was quiet. “I’m tired of sitting around here worrying. Worrying about money and waiting for things to change; that’s all I seem to do lately. I mean to do what I can until you’re back on your feet again.”

    Daddy brooded for a minute. I saw his jaw clench and unclench. Then he stood, reaching unsteadily for his crutches. “Don’t you mean
foot
, Liddie?” he said. The low hush of his anger trailed behind him as he hobbled out of the kitchen.
    “That man is as stubborn as a mule,” Mama said to me as she dished up the oatmeal into my bowl.
    “Can I help you with the laundry, Mama?” I asked.
    “You have school, Mary.”
    “But, Mama, I can help before school. Or after. I can help with the ironing. Or getting the wood.”
    Mama didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, Mary,” she said uncertainly.
    “Mama, I’m tired of worrying and waiting, too. Please let me help.”
    Mama laughed. “You’re worse than your daddy for stubbornness, that’s for sure.”
    “I heard that,” Daddy said from his bedroom.
    And then we all laughed. It felt good.

Eight

    Even before the accident , Wednesday was always wash day.
    Before the sun was up, I awoke to the sound of Daddy singing as he hauled in the big steel washtub
.
    “Women’s work is harder than mining,” he joked as he brought in the last load of wood. He liked helping Mama around the house. “Makes me feel useful,” he told me as we sat down to our breakfast and watched Mama bustle around the kitchen
.
    “For once,” Mama teased him, dishing him up a second bowl of oatmeal
.
    Now Daddy stood helplessly by and watched Mama and me lug the tub in. He directed us as to where it should go in the center of the kitchen until Mama shooed him out of the way. “Daniel, I’ve been doing laundry all these years without your help. I’m capable of carrying on without interference!”
    Daddy snatched up his carving knife and a piece of wood. “What am I supposed to do when you’re working?” he asked as he hobbled angrily out of the room.
    “Well, since you asked, a little music might help things along,” Mama answered. She began heating up water on the stove. I trudged back and forth to the woodpile in the still, gray morning.
    “Just one more load should do it,” Mama said as I placed yet another armful into the wood box.

    Mr. Stewart had already stopped by with his dirty clothes. Just before I left for school, Mama put a pair of his red, sagging long johns into the tub to soak.
    Giggling at the sight, I said, “Looks like he really does need your help.”
    Mama laughed, too. “Off with you now. Mr. Stewart’s underclothes are no concern of yours,” she said as she stirred the clothes into the soapy water with her long-handled paddle.
    I hated to leave the steamy warmth of the kitchen. Mama looked happy as she bent over the washboard, her sleeves pushed up, her arms up to her elbows in soapsuds. She was humming to herself as I let myself out the door.

    The folded clothes were ready in a wicker basket by the front door when Mr. Stewart came by on his way home from work. He was accompanied by another miner, Mr. O’Brien, who had a basket of dirty clothes and a question in his eyes. Mama laughed and said yes, she could have the clothes done by tomorrow, and would this be a regular job. They shook hands when he said yes.
    I peeked around the kitchen door as Mr. O’Brien left and Mr. Stewart stepped up to claim his long johns. Mr. Stewart had come to America to find his fortune. After crisscrossing the mountains, following one