“You never know. God can do anything.”
“If he was going to do something, he would have.” Luke shook his head in disgust. “You know, for a nineteen-year-old, you're not too smart.” He cast the stick to the ground.
Laurel thought of a dozen brutal responses but held her tongue. She knew Luke's words came from fear and anger. He loved the farm. How could she fault him for that? “Daddy wants us up at the house.”
The youngest of the boys, six-year-old Brian, ducked beneath the crippled branch, and standing beside his sister, faced his brothers. “It could happen, you know. It could rain.”
Laurel ruffled his thick blond hair. “That's right. Anything can happen.” She headed toward the house with Brian beside her, then stopped and looked back to find Luke and Justin staring after her. “You better git moving if you don't want to feel the strap across your backsides.”
While the children filed into the house, Will stood at the front window and stared out at a fence line choked with tumbleweeds. He didn't seem to notice his family had assembled and were sitting around the wooden dining table waiting for him to speak.
Jean Hasper cleared her throat. Will turned and walked to the table, smiled gently at his wife, then reached out and touched baby Susie's cheek. She giggled and snuggled closer to her mother. He then studied each face at the table, shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and paced the wooden floor. His boots echoed on the aged planking. Finally he stopped, cleared his throat, and looked hard at his family.
“We've had some tough times these past years. Real tough,” Will began. “The land has dried up, the farm is all but gone, and it doesn't look like the weather is going to change, anyway not soon enough for us.” He glanced out the window. “Everyone's suffering. Some of our neighbors have already had to leave. More are going.” Will swallowed hard. “I didn't want to be one of them, but …” He studied the floor, then looked up at his family. “I've been thinking, and I've decided we have to do something, and we can't wait.” His eyes met Jean's. “The government is offering a new start to families like us, folks about to lose their farms and people on subsistence.”
Laurel's stomach plummeted. Her father couldn't be suggesting they leave the farm!
“What kinda new start?” asked Brian.
“Well, they're choosing families who're willing to move.” He hurried on. “I know it'll be hard to leave, but the way I see it, we got no choice.” He hesitated. “I think this is God's answer for us. In fact, I'm sure of it.”
Laurel had seen the ads, but she couldn't believe her father would consider leaving. Hoping she was wrong and needing to hear the words, she asked, “Where? Where are the farms?”
Will didn't speak.
Jean answered softly. “A place called the Matanuska Valley. In Alaska.”
Silence enveloped the room.
“Alaska!” Justin whooped, shattering the silence. “Wow! Alaska!” He jumped out of his chair and started prancing around the room. “We're going to Alaska! We're going to Alaska!” He turned and looked at his father. “Will we see Eskimos and igloos?”
Will chuckled. “Probably not. The Matanuska Valley is farm country. There's good land and lots of timber for homes and barns.”
“Daddy, how do you know they'll choose us? They don't take just anybody,” Laurel said.
“From what I heard, they want hardy folks and having children is a plus. They don't want people who are too young or too old, and the ones chosen should know something about farming.” He shrugged. “Sounds like us.”
Laurel folded her arms over her chest. “And what if they don't pick us?”
“They will. I'm going down to the courthouse first thing tomorrow and fill out the papers.”
Laurel chewed a fingernail. Alaska was at the end of the world! She had plans. When the depression ended, she was going to attend the University of Wisconsin. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she gritted her teeth and held them back. She wasn't going to cry.
“I know it'll be hard to leave friends, but we'll make new ones,” Will said.
Laurel stared out the window without seeing. Anger replaced sorrow. Without looking at her father, she said, “I won't go.”
For a long moment no one spoke. Finally, Will asked, “What will you do?”
Tipping her chin up slightly, Laurel looked at her father. “I don't know, but I'm not going to Alaska.”
“You need a plan,” Will said. “What do you think you'll do when we move away? There's nothing for you here.”
Laurel didn't know what she was going to do. What could she do? She shrugged.
Will opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. A few moments later he slowly and deliberately asked, “What is it you want?”
“I planned to go to the university in Madison. I want to get my teaching degree.”
“How will you pay for it? You can't make it without family to help. There's no work.” Will swiped his hand through his hair. “Laurel, it's hard to accept something other than our dreams, but fantasies won't put bread on the table. I made less than two hundred dollars last year.” His voice had a sharp edge to it.
Jean rested her hand on Laurel's arm. “Everyone has a right to dream,” she said gently. She turned to her daughter who looked so much like her, thick auburn hair and hazel eyes that radiated strength and stubbornness. “I know this is hard, honey, but we have no choice. We've waited, prayed, and hoped we could stay, but God has another plan for us.”
“There has to be another way. Something …” Laurel searched for a solution, but helplessness and a sense of being trapped trampled over her. She pushed out of the chair and hurried to the door. Hitting the screen with the palms of her hands, she walked out, letting the door slam behind her. Striding across the porch, she leaned on the railing and stared down at a scorched flowerbed. “The rains will come,” she nearly shouted. “They will!” She heard the squeak of the door and her father's steps on the porch. “It can't last. It'll rain.” Unable to hold back tears any longer, she began to sob.
Will stood beside her and rested a callused hand on her back. His voice gentle, he said, “Even if it rained tomorrow, it's too late. It will take more than one good season to bring back the farm.”
Laurel leaned against her father. Immediately his arm went around her shoulders and he hugged her. “I wish we didn't have to do this, sugar. I really do.”
Laurel didn't answer. She couldn't trust herself to speak.
The screen door complained again. Brian hurried to his sister and hugged her about the legs. He pressed his cheek against her floral cotton dress. “It won't be so bad, Laurel. It'll be fun.”
“Yeah,” Justin added. He stood beside Laurel and looked up at her, his blue eyes alight with anticipation. He smiled broadly. “Just think, we'll be pioneers in a new frontier!”
Laurel wiped her tears and tried to smile. She cupped Justin's chin in her hand. “New frontier, huh? That sounds like something you got out of one of your books.” She patted his cheek. Crossing to the old rocker that had graced their front porch for forty years, Laurel ran her hand over the armrest, then stood behind it, rocking it gently. Her grandfather had told her many stories while he rocked and she sat at his feet. She looked at her father. “How can we leave our home? I don't know any other place.”
