Julia's Hope Read Online Free Page B

“Honey, we can’t—”
    “I don’t like this any more than you do,” I blurted. “You know I don’t like stealing. But we’ve got to do something. When Sarah and Robby wake up, they’ll be hungry. God forgive me, but if there’s anything usable here, I’m gonna use it.”
    With a prayer, I started pulling out jars, shining my candle on each one to get a look at the label. Parsley. Dill. Basil. Homegrown, but no telling how old. Something like that doesn’t rot, of course, but it doesn’t make much of a meal either. I pulled out more jars and suddenly felt like God had put these things here, just for me. A bit of sugar. Half a box of salt. Just a little baking powder, a box of soda, and three more matches.
    The last jar was about a third full and rattled in my hand. It had no label, but it took me only a moment to realize what it was. Popcorn kernels. It was all I could do to keep from crying.
    “Just what Sarah wanted,” I whispered. “Sam, look. God’s got a heart for the desires of a child.”
    “Will it even pop?”
    “No telling. But as long as it’s dry, it’ll be okay. I hope it pops, but even if it doesn’t, it can be parched—like the Indians used to do sometimes.”
    Sam looked away from me. “I’m sorry, Julia. That we have to do this.”
    I suddenly felt like dropping everything, just to hug him. I don’t know why I couldn’t. I guess a barrier had grown in me that was just too strong. But I took his hand, and he looked back at me. “The Lord will provide,” I told him.
    “I’ll go foraging. You know me. And the season’s good for some wild food.”
    I put the popcorn jar on the counter with the rest of the jars and started checking the other cupboards. I found a few dishes, an old skillet, and a dented saucepan with no lid.
    “We’ll be okay,” I said as much for myself as for Sam. “We can’t be too far from town. Maybe there’s a grocery store. If the storm is over in the morning, maybe we can find the place.”
    “We couldn’t buy much,” Sam said. “Not to last us long. We’ve got maybe sixty cents, Julia.”
    I heard the gloom in his voice, and I didn’t want any part of it from him right then. Things were bad. But they weren’t going to be hopeless. I wouldn’t have it so.
    “Maybe there’ll be a job for one of us,” I suggested.
    “How can you still say that?” he said fiercely. “We’ve been in plenty of towns. Nobody’s hiring! Especially not a stranger. If I’d known the wheel plant was having trouble, we’d have never left Harrisburg!”
    I shook my head. “What would we have there, Sammy? A line to stand in for bread? And another line to ask for a place to spend the night? It was no good there.”
    He looked at me, stunned. “You’re not sorry we left?”
    I’d been sorry, all right. And angry too. But I wasn’t supposed to stay that way. Things happen for a reason. We were here for a reason. And I knew I’d have to make the most of it. “We had to do something, Sam,” I answered him slowly. “Just like we’ve got to do something now.”
    He looked at me and nodded. “I don’t blame you for being angry,” he said in such a quiet voice that I could barely hear him. Then he put his arms around me.
    I knew he loved me. He always had. And I still loved him. I’d just felt so let down, so unprotected. Maybe it was selfish of me. Sam tried, after all, to be a good husband. He always tried. I laid my head against his chest. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I shouldn’t have blamed you. Nobody saw the troubles coming. And we’ve made it this far. God will take care of us.”
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered back.
    “Shh. Let’s get some rest.”
    The old quilt made me sneeze when first we snuggled under it. Our children were asleep beside us, one on each side, with smiles on their faces. Never mind the dust, I thought. This is better than hitchhiking, better than Dewey’s house, better than all the world to us tonight.
    Sam soon