Alvarado Gold Read Free Page B

one else cares, I’m going to read the rest of these letters tonight.” Since I wanted to look up the verse used at Grandpa’s funeral, I took the Bible, too.
    Everyone waved me on, absorbed in his or her own thoughts. Susan was on the phone with her husband, Brad; Mel, her nose in her daily planner, probably mentally making her next sale; I could hear Clay whistling some unknown tune as he cleaned the kitchen.
    I climbed into the old feather bed. I loved those things. I’d had one as a kid. It brought back memories of Mom and how she used to fuss over me before we traded rolls and I became the caretaker. The bed surrounded me in its soft warmth. I opened the box, shuffled through letters from Grandpa’s children and found nothing more than family news. I laughed at the childish print on my letter and a picture I’d sent. I’d made a rainbow and asked Grandpa to come see me in California. I wondered why but was pleased he’d chosen to keep it.
    I quickly resolved there was nothing more of interest in the box and turned my focus to the Bible. My grandparents were strong in their faith, their beliefs passed down through the family; however, when it came to the grandchildren, none of us were churchgoers.
    I thumbed to Ecclesiastes to find the text. I read beyond the verse the minister used to, A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance. The phrase fit my life perfectly. I’d wept over the passage of my elders. Grieved over their loss and the path my mother’s frail state had taken my life down. Now it was time to laugh. Time to dance .
    I marked my place with a worn, hand-crocheted cross. I sat cross-legged in the middle of the cloud of feathers. The verses jumbled together in my mind and brought everything back in full force–the stories my grandpa had told me and the teachings from my childhood Sunday school lessons, where I’d learned cause and effect–good and bad. I hadn’t thought what I did was bad or wrong but it definitely had an effect. A time, at what time did I quit listening? Quit hearing? Quit praying? Long before my mother had died. I’d tried one more time and my request went unanswered. Then, I was alone and shut out. I decided to shut people out of my life before they, too, could hurt me. My secret settled in my heart where most of the time it simmered quietly, hidden in the corner. I do want to dance. I do want it to be my time .
    The verses had been important to my grandparents; my grandmother had stitched a sampler from them. Where was it now? I’d seen it in Eric’s daughter’s bedroom. She said that it was some old song, implying it belonged to another generation. A time and a place for everything. Was it really that easy?
    As I flipped through the tattered pages, I could tell by the feel and smell the book was old. Turning to the center section, I found a record of the births, deaths and marriages of my family. The entries were of my great-great-grandparents and their children, and then the handwriting took on the tremble of age to record Grandpa and Grandma’s marriage and listed the births of my mother and her brothers. Thumbing back to the first page, I discovered, this was great-great-grandmother Annie’s Bible. The records stopped but I knew the reason. My own grandmother’s Bible picked up from where this one concluded. As I’d felt many times before, the past reached out.
    When I added another pillow behind me, several pieces of paper fell to the floor. The missive, written on personalized stationery. Annie Barnes, Barnesville, Texas, embossed across the top. I propped myself up and began to read.
    May 1, 1889
    We left Barnesville at dawn this morning. Harold insisted I come along and bring the children. We’ll be gone for several years. Moses will be able to help the men but the others are too small. Eva can help me cook and care for the little ones.
    The first day out was exciting for all of us. A great adventure for the children. We should be in