“You could have lost me, Jacob,” said Sarah. “And that’s the way life is. Something happens . . . one little moment in time. If you’re lucky, you have a chance to make things better. You have that chance here. Don’t let it pass.”
I heard Papa get up from his chair.
“Do you want some help?” asked Sarah.
“No,” said Papa. “I’ll do this myself.”
I walked up the stairs quietly, Papa slowly coming up the stairs behind me. Grandfather stood at his window, looking out over the farm. As if he didn’t even see me, Papa passed me and went into Grandfather’s room. Grandfather and Papa, so much alike, faced each other.
“Jacob?” said Grandfather. “Sit down.”
Papa shook his head.
“I’m all right. I’ll stand,” said Papa, leaning on his cane.
There was a long silence. Then came Papa’s voice, softer than I’d heard it in a long time.
“Why didn’t you take me with you? All those years ago. I wanted to be with you. No matter where you were.”
“Jacob—” said Grandfather.
But Papa went on.
“You didn’t write. Not one letter. And I waited and waited.”
“I know,” said Grandfather. “I couldn’t write, Jacob, because . . . I didn’t know how to write you. I never learned.”
Papa moved closer to Grandfather.
“I was so ashamed,” whispered Grandfather. “Caleb knew. Caleb taught me. All the evenings in this room, Caleb taught me how to read. So I could write to you.”
Papa turned and saw me standing in the doorway.
“Caleb did that?” said Papa. “All those years . . . I was so little . . . and I began to think that somehow, something I had done had made you go away.”
“No,” said Grandfather quickly. “What I did was wrong. Your mother and I could not live together anymore. But what I did was wrong. It was my fault. All my fault.”
“Fault,” said Papa very softly. “Sarah says fault doesn’t matter.”
Grandfather handed Papa a small sheet of paper.
“I started to write you a letter,” he said.
Papa read what was written there, but didn’t speak.
“It says ‘I love you, Jacob,’” said Grandfather.
Papa looked at the paper for a long time.
“Don’t go,” he said, his voice low. “Please don’t leave us again. You belong here. I don’t want to miss you again. Ever.”
Grandfather put his arms around Papa, and they stood in the small room, holding on to each other.
I turned and went downstairs, where Sarah still sat at the kitchen table. I sat across from her.
“Remember you asked me who I wanted to be like?” I said to Sarah.
Sarah nodded.
“It’s Papa. I want to be like Papa,” I said.
For some reason—I couldn’t say why—I began to cry. Sarah reached out and took my hand. But I cried so hard that, finally, Sarah got up and came to sit by me, putting her arms around me. Lottie and Nick came over to us, Lottie putting her head in my lap so that my tears fell onto her nose.
Cassie came into the room.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” said Sarah. “Not one thing in the world is wrong.”
The kitchen is full of people and food. The turkey sits on the table, Grandfather carving it and cursing at it. Papa laughs at this, as if it is something old, something familiar.
Sun comes in the windows so that everything and everyone is touched by it, like gold, even Seal and Min by the fire.
Papa is smiling again. Sarah has not stopped. Even Lottie and Nick seem to smile as they hope for Grandfather to drop the turkey for them to eat.
Cassie is practicing saying a new grace, one that does not have “fuud” in it. I like the “fuud” grace myself.
Soon, Sam and Justin and Anna will drive up the road and into the yard. Everyone will run outside to greet them, and the dogs will bark and leap up, and I can tease Anna again about Justin because he is home again and safe.
Grandfather will stay. He has started writing in the journal I gave him, but he won’t let me read it yet.
He says it is private.
The winter came early and will stay longer. There will be winds and storms, but I don’t care. There is happiness here now. What Sarah told Cassie is true. Not one thing in the world is wrong.
Read on for an excerpt from More Perfect than the Moon
1
Summer was cool and wet, and the barnyard was muddy. It was like spring left over. The cats jumped from the fence and ran into the barn so they could sleep in the dry hay.
“I see you there, you know,” Grandfather called to me. “Hiding behind Martha.”
Grandfather knew the names of all our cows. Martha was black, with a white spot on her rump.
I stood up.
“I’m not hiding,” I said. “I’m studying Martha’s spot.”
This made Grandfather smile. And Caleb.
“You were hiding,” said Grandfather. “It made Martha nervous. I could see her eyes roll.”
Martha turned and stared at me.
“Martha always rolls her eyes,” I told Grandfather.
He laughed out loud. He and Caleb were digging trenches in the mud so the rains would run off.
“You’re sneaky, Cassie,” said Caleb.
“Elusive,” I told him. “Mama says I’m elusive.”
“Sarah always finds a word to make you look better,” said Caleb. “I say you’re sneaky.”
Caleb has always called Mama Sarah. My mama is not Caleb’s real mama. But she is mine. He and Anna called her Sarah when she first came to meet Papa. Before they were married. I call her Mama. Maybe someday I’ll call her Sarah.
“I’m looking for things to write about,” I told Caleb. “It just looks like I’m sneaky.”
I took my notebook out of my coat pocket and began reading to them.
“‘Grandfather and Caleb dug deep rivers in the mud so the cows, Martha, Eleni, Princess, Mary Louise, Pudgie, and Boots, can float into the barn to feed.’”
“That’s not the truth!” said Caleb.
“Yes it is,” I said. “It is storytelling.”
“Made up,” said Caleb.
“Maybe,” I said, turning away and walking through the mud to the barn. I turned once to see Grandfather smiling at me, Caleb staring.
“Maybe,” I said louder just before I disappeared into the dark barn.
Read on for an excerpt from the last book about the Witting family, Grandfather’s Dance
1
Spring. School was hard in the spring. Even fourth grade was hard. The windows of the small school were open and the sweet smell of new grass blew in. I couldn’t pay attention. Neither could Ian or Min or Grace. Will was half asleep, and Isabel looked out the window. There were only six of us in school, from first grade to fifth. Mr. Willet read out loud to us, but no one seemed to hear. One of the horses whinnied outside and we all looked out the window. Finally Mr. Willet put down his book and looked out the window, too.
“Let’s go home,” he said softly.
Ian, the youngest of everyone, only six, clapped his hands, making Mr. Willet laugh.
“Go home, go on home,” he said, still laughing. “We’ll try again on Monday.”
I gathered my books and helped Ian with his. I made sure he got home every day. Today I’d ridden Molly, and I gave Ian a leg up. We rode together, Ian’s arms around my waist.
“Caleb and I used to ride home from school just like this,” I said.
“Caleb’s big now,” said Ian.
“Yes. He’s big. Away at school.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yes. I miss Caleb.”
“Does he tease you?” asked Ian.
“Yes, Caleb has always teased me.”
“I tease my little sister every single day,” said Ian.
I heard him yawn behind me,
and I turned and wrapped a long scarf behind him and tied it in front of my waist. Sometimes Ian fell asleep on the way home. I didn’t want him falling off Molly.
“Lily loves me even if I tease her,” said Ian matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
“Let’s do twosies,” said Ian.
“Okay. Two times two is . . . ?”
“Four.”
“Two times three is . . . ?”
“Six.”
Ian laid his head against my back and Molly walked slowly down the road to his house.
“Two times four?”
Ian didn’t answer. I smiled. He’d fallen asleep, his breath warm on my back.
Way off in the fields, meadowlarks flew and the smell of prairie spring followed us home.
“Cassie! Cassie!”
Jack ran out of the barn, Papa and our dog Lottie following him. His pale hair was long and curly around his face. Mama once said he looked like an angel. Grandfather said most times he didn’t act like one.
The surprise was that Jack did act like an angel around Grandfather. He never frowned at Grandfather. He never showed Grandfather his temper. Every evening he sat on Grandfather’s lap and made him tell a story, made him sing. From the very beginning, Grandfather had been Jack’s favorite.
Papa lifted Jack up to sit with me on Molly. Jack leaned down and kissed Molly on her neck, and we went into the barn.
“Doggie,” said Jack.
I smiled.
“Horse,” I said to him. “Molly’s a horse.”
Jack turned and frowned his fierce frown at me.
“Doggie,” said Jack, making me laugh.
I kissed the top of his head. It was warm and sweet smelling.
“All right,” I said. “Doggie.”
“Horse,” said Jack, smiling back at me.
“A joke!” I cried. “You made a joke, Jack.”
I got off Molly and reached up and slid Jack down beside me.
“Doggie,” whispered Jack.
I laughed and took his hand. We walked out of the cool, dark barn into the light. He jumped up and down beside me as we walked.
His hand was tiny and warm in my hand.
About the Author
John MacLachlan
PATRICIA MACLACHLAN is the celebrated author of many timeless books for young readers, including Sarah, Plain and Tall, winner of the Newbery Medal. Her novels for young readers include Arthur, For the Very First Time; The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt; Skylark; Caleb’s Story; More Perfect Than the Moon; Grandfather’s Dance; Word After Word After Word; and Kindred Souls. She is also the author of many much-loved picture books, including Three Names; All the Places to Love; What You Know First; Painting the Wind; Bittle; Who Loves Me?; Once I Ate a Pie; I Didn’t Do It; Before You Came; and Cat Talk—several of which she cowrote with her daughter, Emily. She lives with her husband and two border terriers in Williamsburg, Massachusetts.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also By Patricia MacLachlan
Sarah, Plain and Tall
Skylark
Caleb’s Story
More Perfect than the Moon
Grandfather’s Dance
Arthur, For the Very First Time
Through Grandpa’s Eyes
Cassie Binegar
Seven Kisses in a Row
Unclaimed Treasures
The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt
Word After Word After Word
Kindred Souls
Mama One, Mama Two
All the Places to Love
What You Know First
Three Names
The Truth of Me
Written with Emily MacLachlan Charest
Painting the Wind
Bittle
Who Loves Me?
Once I Ate a Pie
Fiona Loves the Night
I Didn’t Do It
Before You Came
Cat Talk
Back Ads
Credits
Cover art © 2013 by Jim Madsen
Copyright
Caleb’s Story
Copyright © 2001 by Patricia MacLachlan
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
MacLachlan, Patricia.
Caleb’s story / by Patricia MacLachlan.
p. cm.
“Joanna Cotler books.”
Summary: Sequel to: Sarah, Plain and Tall. Skylark.
Summary: The stranger lurking on the Witting family’s prairie farm turns out to be their long-lost grandfather, whose presence plus prodding from Caleb forces Jacob to deal with his past.
ISBN 0-06-023605-1 — ISBN 0-06-440590-7 (pbk.)
EPub Edition © MARCH 2013 ISBN: 9780062285713
[1. Fathers and sons—Fiction. 2. Grandfathers—Fiction. 3. Frontier and pioneer life—Great Plains—Fiction. 4. Great Plains—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M2225 Cal
[Fic]—dc21
20012001016843
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Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story
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