Once Upon a Summer by Janette Oke Read Free Book Online Page B

hard and was lucky enough to recall that I’d heard that Jedd Rawleigh liked fishin’.
    “Hear he likes fishin’,” I said. “I could take him to the crik.”
    “On Sunday?”
    “Not to fish,” I hurried on, “jest to look. If he likes fishin’, then he must like the water, too.”
    This earned me a big smile and a quick hug.
    “Good idea,” Lou whispered.
    Only for Auntie Lou would I agree to take someone down to my part of the crik—especially someone like Jedd Rawleigh. I was about to drag myself back out to the porch to do the invitin’ when I got a bright idea. I’d take him to the part of the crik the farthest away from the house. The trail wasn’t too well worn goin’ that way, but I was sure that I could still follow it. I never went over that way much because the crik flowed wide and shallow there and there were no holes for fishin’. The banks were covered with marsh grass and scrub willow, and the whole area was spongy and more like swampland than anything else.
    My eyes must have reflected what I was thinkin’, for Auntie Lou looked at me rather closely.
    “You don’t mind?”
    “Naw, I don’t mind.” I tried to sound very off-hand about it.
    I slipped to the porch now with almost a bounce to my step. Grandpa was listenin’ to the widder tell about her problems with hired men and how relieved she was to have dependable Jedd now doing the farmin’.
    I poked Jedd. “Care to take a little walk?”
    He clambered up and grinned at me, and we started off. We rounded the house and I stopped at the front porch as though I’d had a last-minute thought and pulled off my shoes and socks.
    “Never did feel comfortable in Sunday shoes,” I said, and I carefully rolled up the legs of my Sunday pants.
    Jedd jest smiled, quite willing to accept my boyish whim. Truth was, there was no way that I wanted to be wearin’ my Sunday shoes where I was intendin’ to go.
    “Hear ya like fishin’.”
    He grinned again, then quickly sobered.
    “Ma won’t let me fish on Sunday.”
    “Oh, I don’t fish Sunday either; jest thought that ya might like to check out the crik for some future day.”
    “Sure.” He was grinnin’ again.
    We started out toward the back cow pasture. I glanced around to check if we were being noticed. The widow Rawleigh, Grandpa, and Uncle Charlie still sat on the porch. From my own experience, added to what I was able to piece together from talking to Auntie Lou—plus usin’ my imagination jest a bit—I figure that the rest of that Sunday afternoon went something like this: Uncle Charlie wasn’t doin’ so great at carryin’ his part of the conversation, and when Lou gave him a nod from the kitchen door, he gladly hurried over to her.
    “I know that Mrs. Rawleigh said for me to call her for the washing-up, but she and Pa seem to be havin’ such a nice visit. Do you mind dryin’, Uncle Charlie?”
    Lou said it with her cutest I-know-what’s-really-goin’-on smile and Uncle Charlie jest grinned and got a towel. Truth was, he much preferred being in the kitchen with Lou to sittin’ miserably listenin’ to that chitchat on the porch.
    The dishes were done in jig time, and Uncle Charlie reluctantly eased himself toward the door again. You see with the front parlor closed off, the only way out of the house was the back door, so for Uncle Charlie it was either stay cooped up inside or else pass by the two guardin’ his exit. He hesitated a moment, then stepped out onto the porch.
    “Oh, my,” said the widow, suddenly come to remembrance seein’ Uncle Charlie materialize before her. “How the time has been flyin’! I’m sure that dear Louisa must be ready with those dishes by now.”
    “All done,” said Uncle Charlie, and Grandpa favored him with a hard look. Uncle Charlie chose to ignore it. “Jest finished.”
    Uncle Charlie appeared to be going right on down the steps so Grandpa stopped him.
    “Where did the young’uns git to?”
    “Went fer a walk, I take