Chapter Three

 

As soon as Amanda came in the kitchen door, she said, “You're out of toilet paper.”

Tansy replied as she spooned gravy into a bowl, “We don't use it. Didn't ya see the newspapers?”

Amanda said dully, “That's what I used.”

“Good. Years ago, we used to use mail order catalogs such as Sears and Roebuck or Montgomery Wards, but the new magazines today don't work worth a darn in the outhouse. The pages are too slick.” Tansy pointed to the corner. “Plates are in that cupboard with the flour bin on it, and silverware is in the drawer underneath the counter. Don't forget to wash your hands before you start.”

Amanda stuck her hands in the cold water in the wash pan and rubbed a bar of lye soap between them. She rinsed in the pan and dried with the towel that hung in the plastic ring on the wall above the pan.

Tansy was stuffing a stick of wood in a hole on the stove, ramming the wood past flames that shot up at her hand.

“What kind of stove is that?”

“It's a wood burnin', Majestic cook stove. The top part is the warmin' oven that keeps food warm after its been dished up. Kind of comes in handy around here when I'm waitin' for yer grandpa to come in,” Tansy said, wiping her hands on the end of her white bib apron.

Amanda set the plates on the table. “Is this stove what you've always cooked on?”

“Nah, I had an electric stove in town, but this stove was here when we came. So this is the one I use. Grandpa has to cut wood for the heatin' stove anyway, so why not cut enough to cook with at the same time.”

Art carried in two pails full of milk right after Amanda set the table. The dog came in with him and stood by the screen door, watching Amanda.

“Ya go on in the parlor and lay by my chair, Jubel,” Art said as he set the pails on the counter by a large crock.

Tansy said, “Amanda, put those bowls and the platter in the warmin' oven on the table while I strain the milk.” She opened a drawer and took out a large, white cloth. She placed it over the opening of the crock and poured slowly until she emptied both pails.

She rolled the white cloth up, tossed it into the dishpan. She picked up a flat wooden lid and placed it on the crock. “Best not forget that lid. We'd find a mouse floating in our milk tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh!” Amanda muttered as she set a bowl on the table.

“After we eat, I'll take this crock to the spring house,” Tansy told Amanda.

Art washed his hands and sit at the end of the table. When Amanda and Tansy were seated, he looked at Tansy. “Whose turn is it to say the blessin'?”

“Yer's.”

“Reckon so.” He bowed his head and said, “Lord, bless this food, and the hands that prepared it. Keep close watch on our granddaughter while she's here and he'p her enjoy her stay. In Jesus's name. Amen. Now start passin' that food.”

Tansy handed Art a platter of hot biscuits. He took three and handed the platter to Amanda. As soon as he tore the biscuits in pieces on his plate, he took a bowl from Tansy and spooned a white, thick sauce over his plate. He handed that bowl to Amanda and took the next bowl which was fried potatoes.

Art handed Amanda the potatoes. She dipped a spoon full on her plate. She dropped one biscuit beside the potatoes and studied the bowl of white sauce. “What is this stuff?”

“White gravy,” Tansy said.

“It don't look like any gravy I ever saw,” Amanda said, lifting a spoon full out and dabbing toward her plate to get the gravy to fall off. “It sure is thick.”

“I reckon you're used to that thin broth kind that runs all over your plate,” Tansy said cryptically.

“That gravy sounds more familiar,” Amanda agreed.

“No substance to that stuff. You have to chase it down. This gravy sticks to yer ribs,” Art assured her. He smiled at Tansy. “Although once in awhile, I've heard yer grandma say her gravy doesn't turn out like she wanted it to. She says it is thick or thin company around here as far as gravy goes.”

Her grandparents laughed, but Amanda saw nothing funny about what Grandpa said. She crumpled up her biscuit and put more gravy on it. At first, she wasn't sure she wanted to taste the gravy so she ate the fried potatoes.

“Aren't you goin' to clean up your plate, Mandie?” Art asked.

Amanda shrugged.

“Listen to me, Honey. Around here we go by the sayin' waste not want not. Best eat what I cook or go hungry,” Tansy warned.

Amanda sampled a small bite of gravy. She swallowed and took another bite. Once she got over the feeling she was eating Elmer's glue, she decided gravy and biscuits weren't too bad. Then again, she felt awful hungry, so almost anything might taste good to her about now. Even Elmer's glue.

“Weell now, that gravy ain't so bad, is it?” Art asked.

Amanda shrugged. “It's okay. I guess I'm just used to different food.”

“Like what, Honey,” Tansy asked.

Amanda perked up. “I like pepperoni pizza really well. Mom orders it brought to our home. Maybe you could, too.”

Art waved his fork in her direction. “I remember pizza pies. How long ago was that Tansy when pizzas were popular around here?”

“Cain't say. Has it been fifty years ago we had that one?”

Amanda slumped in her chair at that news.

Art gazed at his plate, searching his memory. “Somewhere abouts. All I really remember about that pizza pie was it was really hot. I bit into it and burned the roof of my mouth so bad it was a week before I could eat without smartin'.”

“That's right,” Tansy agreed. “I took a big bite, and that stringy cheese stretched out and dropped onto my chin. My word, did that burn. I didn't think I was ever goin' to get my face wiped off in time to keep my chin from blisterin'. The more I rubbed that cheese the more it stretched.”

“So you won't order a pizza?” Amanda asked.

“Cain't, Mandie. Pizza places don't deliver out here in the country. That just happens in town,” Art explained.

“Well, how about potato chips? I like chips, and you can buy those at the grocery store,” Amanda said hopefully.

Tansy shook her head in dismay. “Why would we want to buy greasy, salt covered chips when we have healthy food we raised. I like to cook, and we eat what I fix.”

“Oh,” Amanda said.

Art cleared his throat. “When yer daddy was growin' up we had a rule. If he didn't like the food on the table, he didn't have to eat it right off. He could sit there until he got hungry enough he did like it.”

Amanda gave up and ate what she had on her plate.

After they finished eating, Tansy set a scrap pail on the table. She looked over at the tea kettle on the back of the cook stove when it started sizzling. “I'll get you a dish towel in a second. You can dry dishes.”

She scraped the bits of food off the last plate into the scrap pail and placed the plate on the stack.

“I don't do dishes,” Amanda said.

Tansy couldn't believe her ears. “Why on earth not? A big girl like y'all don't he'p yer mother?”

“She doesn't do dishes, either. We have a cook that does all that.”

Tansy waved the spoon she'd scraped plates with at Amanda. “Listen to me, Honey, I'm the cook in this kitchen and dish washer. Reckon there's a first time for everythin'. So I'm tellin' ya as long as y'all are here you're the dish dryer. Got that?”

Tansy pulled a dish towel out of a drawer and tossed it to Amanda.

After the dishes were done, they joined Art in the parlor. He had been watching a nature program about ducks on television. Amanda didn't figure it would do her any good to complain she'd rather watch something else. Grandpa wouldn't hear her anyway. He was asleep.

The dog lifted his head off his paws and eyed her. His ears perked up, and his nose wiggled. That was a warning sign to Amanda. She better stay away from the television. Grandpa, too, for that matter, unless Grandpa was awake to call the dog away from her.

She sat down on the couch by Tansy. Her grandma reached over the arm of the couch and picked up her sewing basket. She set it between them and picked up a Rockford work sock with the heel out. She stuffed a large, round, wooden ball in the heel of the sock and wove the thread back and forth over the ball.

Amanda asked, “What are you doing?”

“Darnin' Grandpa's sock. I declare, he sure wears his socks out in a hurry. Wonder if he has a tack stickin' out of the shoe heel? Pay attention how I do this. One of these days, you might want to darn yer sock.”

“Why don't you just buy Grandpa new socks. Save you some work.” Amanda watched Tansy's busy hand pulling the threaded needle in and out.

Tansy didn't stop mending. “Listen to me, Honey, that might be less work, but new socks cost money. I'll save my money thank you very much.”

A few minutes in the quiet room was all it took for Amanda's eyes to grow heavy.

Tansy put the sewing basket back on the floor. “I think we all should go to bed. Yer grandpa is already asleep, and he's goin' to have a stiff neck sittin' that way.”

“I am tired,” Amanda admitted.

“Need to go to the outhouse again? The flashlight is behind the wash pan,” Tansy told her.

“Not now, but maybe later.”

Tansy shook Art's shoulder. “Wake up. Get to bed. Before we know it, another day will be dawnin'.”

“Reckon so,” Art said, rubbing his eyes.

Amanda heard Grandpa go outside while she put on her pajamas. He talked to the dog as if the animal was a person when he told Jubel to do his business. It was a long time until morning.

Her bedroom was stuffy so she opened the window by the head of her bed a crack. After she flipped the light off, she pulled the sheet and blanket back on the bed. When she sat down, she sank. Was the bed broke? She pushed with her fist against the bottom cover. No matter where she pushed the bed was soft. She raised her legs up and into the bed, covered herself up and laid down. She was in a narrow trench. Oh well. She was so tired she could sleep anywhere.

Before she drifted off, she heard spooky sounds outside somewhere. A series of yips, eerie and high pitched, traveled through the nearby timber. The yip, yip, yipeeee seemed so close. She wondered if it would be safe to go to the outhouse in the dark by herself. Just to be on the safe side, she got out of bed and lowered the window.

One bird started its nightlife. It sang whip poor will over and over again. She did kind of like listening to the cheerful calls, but she missed her head set. At home, she always went to sleep listening to music in her ears. She wanted to bring the headset, but her mom told her she couldn't. The way Amanda saw it, she was lucky to get out of the house with several changes of clothes and her makeup.