Once Upon a Summer Read Online Free Page B

away from my grandpa’s home place. I was jest big enough to smile and coo when both my folks were killed in an accident on their farm. Again the two men had a child to raise, but this time they had help. The five-year-old Lou sorta claimed me right from the start. I can’t remember any further back than to Lou—this strange woman-child whose pixie face leaned over my crib or hushed me when I fussed. We grew up together. She was both parent and playmate to me. The parents that I never knew really weren’t missed—except when I would purposely set my mind to wonderin’. Usually, as my childhood days ticked by I was happy and content. When Lou needed to go to school, I stayed with Grandpa or Uncle Charlie, chafin’ for her return in the afternoon. She would run most of the way home and then she would scoop me into her arms. “Oh, Joshie sweetheart,” or, “My little darlin’,” she’d say, then ask, “Did ya miss me, honey? Come on, let’s go play”; and we would, while Grandpa got the evenin’ meal and Uncle Charlie did the chores.
    At last the day arrived when I placed my hand in Auntie Lou’s, and sharin’ a pail filled with our lunch, we went off to school together. Those were good years. The two men home on the farm enjoyed a freedom that they hadn’t had for years, and I never had to be separated from Lou.
    Grandpa held fast to the rules of proper respect, so at home I always addressed her as Auntie Lou. But at school we conspired to make it jest Lou, in order not to be teased by the other kids.
    The school years went well. I was a fair student and anytime that I did hit a snag, I had special coachin’ from Lou who was always near the head of her class.
    As we grew up, Grandpa assigned us responsibilities; Lou took on more and more of the housework, and I began to help with outside chores. Still we used all of the minutes that we could find to play together. I would, with some convincing, pick flowers with Lou in exchange for her carryin’ the pail while we hunted frogs. Often she didn’ jest carry—she caught as many frogs as I did. She could shinny up a tree as fast as any boy, too, tuckin’ her skirt in around her elastic bloomer legs in order to get it out of her way. She could also skip rocks and throw a ball.
    She would take a dare to walk the skinniest rail on the fence and outdo any fella at school. Yet somehow when she hopped to the ground and assumed her role as “girl,” she could be as proper and appealin’ as could be, and could give you that look of pure innocence fittin’ for a princess or an angel.
    Lou completed the grades in the local school, and then it was me who went off alone each mornin’. She stayed behind, responsible now for managin’ the house and feedin’ two hungry men and a growing boy.
    It was my turn to run home at day’s end, knowing that if I hurried there would still be a few minutes of fun before chore time. We still knew how to make the most of the minutes that we had. We took quick trips to the crik where we laid on our stomachs and startled minnows or worried turtles. We visited the pond where we skipped rocks or turned over stones to see who could win by findin’ the highest number of insects underneath. We hunted bird nests, being careful not to disturb the inhabitants. We played on the haystacks, makin’ ourselves a slide that was a bit hard on the clothes, but great fun regardless. On colder days we’d tell a story or play a game—or jest talk.
    All of the time that I was growin’ up with Auntie Lou, I had never stopped to consider what kind of a human being she was. She was jest there; she was necessary, she was mine, and now, now all of a sudden, I was forced to realize that she was a girl—a girl almost a woman, a girl who might marry and move away to live with some man. Again anger swept through me. I hated him—this other man whoever he would be; I hated him. Somehow I planned to stop this awful thing from happenin’ if I could. I