My heart was beating like a bongo drum. This was Judgement Day! I didn't know if John knew what I had been up
to. I didn't know if he had spoken to
his father. The white car had driven in
that direction. Had Dad taken the
strangers out to the field to meet his son and prove to them that not all of
his family were raving lunatics?
John took his time. He filled the tractor with fuel, then stopped
into the shed for something. In the
house, suffering intolerable suspense, I waited impatiently for the axe to
fall, sick to my stomach, my heart hammering out a staccato beat. Whatever was
going to happen, let it happen now - and quickly. I can't stop it! I couldn't even pray.
After what seemed like an eternity, John came to
the house. The absence of shock on his
face when he walked in told me he had come prepared for a major cataclysm. He must have had visitors out in that
field. Perhaps the well-dressed
strangers had warned him about what to expect.
It was doubtful that his father could have been coherent enough to
explain what they had witnessed.
Wordlessly ignoring me, John walked around the
kitchen, looking at the gaping holes in the wall; the stairs that were now
missing the three angling steps; and the empty north wall where the foot of the
stairway used to be. He walked through
the opening in the wall into what used to be the bedroom and noted the bottom
of the stairway waiting for the three angling steps that would connect it to
the rest of the stairs. He stood staring
at the patched up wall facing the living room, at the doorway that was no more.
I was glad I had had the time to clean up before
he got home. The place looked much less
daunting this way. Still, I was
paralyzed with fear. I waited, my heart
pounding wildly for some reaction that would indicate to me whether I should
run for my life or just stand there silently, prepared to meet My Maker.
"How do you propose to finish this?"
John finally asked. His voice was calm
and he actually sounded sincere in his query - like he honestly wanted to
know! I couldn't believe my ears. My knees turned to jelly, and my heart leapt
in relief and exhilaration. Was he actually going to support me
in this project?
"Well, all we have to do now is build a wall
to close off this stairway, put a door here to this old bedroom and we have two
whole walls for cupboards. We can take
this old little cupboard out and put the stove here instead. That will make the room smaller for floor
space but there will be a lot more room for everything else. And see, behind this door we still have the
stairs to the basement and all we have to do is make those three curving stairs
up here and the stairway is as good as new - and out of the way!
I was rambling on excitedly now. God had heard my prayers. My husband was going to let me live.
He was listening to me and I was not only going to live, but it appeared as if I was going
to have my beautiful new kitchen! My
enthusiasm was beyond all bounds.
"I'll go get the plywood and some two-by-fours before
Hryhorchuk closes the store." Still
calm, John turned and walked out to the truck and drove toward town. I was all a flutter now. Had it really been that easy? Was it really going to happen this
quickly? Was I really going to get away
this peacefully? My emotions vacillated between
relief and disbelief, excitement and fear.
"If I am dreaming, please Lord, don't let me wake up" I
prayed.
It was now after five and I had to start supper,
so I heaved the stove into position, connected the pipes and set out to make supper. If my husband was truly as supportive as he
seemed to be, I was going to make him a supper of all suppers! He deserved it!
After supper, there was still enough daylight
left to do some work so we set up to make those three angling stairs to the
upstairs bedrooms. There was no way we
could sleep downstairs in that dusty, and now with the stairway, crowded, old
bedroom. We needed those stairs, so we
fixed them. Then we hauled up the
mattresses and by midnight we were settled in our new bedrooms upstairs. We had worked calmly together, John didn't
seem the least bit angry, though he said very little. Still, I was eternally grateful.
The next day, John did not go into the
fields. Instead, we built the wall,
finished off the doorways, and he even got me some clay to patch those gouges
in plaster around that closed off doorway.
When we finished, John informed me, "I'm
going to go see if Nick can come and do the cupboards." Nick was his brother-in-law. He was a carpenter.
Within a month, I had beautiful white paint on my
brand new kitchen cupboards, along the whole north wall; beautiful new wallpaper
on the walls and a kitchen that I was delighted about. John and I even discussed replacing the old
wood stove with an electric one someday and adding a refrigerator and perhaps
even a freezer! against that brand spanking new east wall - “when we get hydro in year or two”.
Friends and neighbours that came to visit could not congratulate us
enough on our renovations and John got most of the complements about it. Few people knew about how those renovations
came about. I didn't care. I got what I wanted out of the deal - my
fantastic kitchen. Besides, John
deserved all that credit for supporting me, even if it was only after his
options were eliminated. Even my
father-in-law was proud of the house when that kitchen got finished. He had a "modern" house to gloat
about now. For years after, my evening
ritual was to stand in the doorway and admire my kitchen before I went to
bed. Perhaps that kitchen would not have
been the answer to every woman's dream, but it certainly was the answer to
mine!
Necessity may be the “mother of invention,” but it is “desperation that makes
things happen!” Faint hearts do nothing at all!
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