A Different World: Little House by the Edge of the Woods, Series

By Roger M. Hart

A Different World concludes the Little House series with both relief and sorrow. Relief to see a project finished but sorrow to leave all the characters behind, who have become a real part of my life.

In this volume Patrick and Olivia take their family of five and leave the little house behind, thinking this time they wont ever be back. But as Robert Burns said in a poem long ago, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, you will see how Patrick and Olivias plans go awry just when life is becoming less stressful.

After Patrick and Olivia left the little house and rented the Silas Barton farm, the Francis Airhartz farm that lay adjacent to the Harris farm came up for sale. Patrick had secretly wanted to buy this land if it ever came up for sale. Now was his chance to be settled for life but needed to borrow enough money by sale day. When it seemed the opportunity was passing an unexpected source helped him purchase part of the farm. They thought they were settled then, for life, until the unexpected, the unthinkable happened.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503566255

Roger M. Hart

I am married to my wife Joan. We have two married sons, Warren and Christopher and six grandsons who all reside in Ohio. In my retirement I have time to reflect on my past, sleep late and write about a life that might have been.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Roger M. Hart.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015906901

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5035-6623-1

                Softcover        978-1-5035-6624-8

                eBook            978-1-5035-6625-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Scripture quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/26/2015

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Contents

Chapter 1   New Life

Chapter 2   Natural Fertilizer

Chapter 3   A Pile of Dry Corn Cobs

Chapter 4   Let’s Bake Cookies

Chapter 5   The Mushroom Kid

Chapter 6   Wash Day

Chapter 7   The End of May

Chapter 8   Bob’s First Ride

Chapter 9   Half Fish and Half Boy

Chapter 10   Sonny’s Fish Stories

Chapter 11   Flash, Queen and the Parade

Chapter 12   The Olympic Runner

Chapter 13   A New Home

Chapter 14   What Is A Funeral

Chapter 15   Sweet Revenge at Froylin School

Chapter 16   Safe in A Silver Maple Tree

Chapter 17   The Back Forty

Chapter 18   Calves for a Bicycle

Chapter 19   A Letter to the School Board

Chapter 20   The Driver’s Seat

Chapter 21   Home At Last

Chapter 22   An Unbeatable Record

Chapter 23   One Giant Step

Chapter 24   A New Announcement

Chapter 25   High School at Last

Chapter 26   Miracles Never Cease

Chapter 27   Before and After

Chapter 28   God So Loved Me

Dedication

of this last book in the Little House series is to a very dear friend,

Joyce Hurley,

who recently lost her battle with cancer and is now joyously experiencing a new and different world. A world that is free from sickness, pain, heartache and sorrow. As the patriarch Abraham said, I am looking for a city not made with hands whose builder and maker is God.

Joyce now occupies her eternal home Jesus went

to prepare just for her.

Other Books Include:

Devotions & Poems From The Heart

A book of poetry and daily Bible devotionals

Joys and Tears

A book of poetry and short stories

"Little House By The Edge Of The Woods,

series:

Benjamin and the Fredrickson Girls

Roland and the Crankenbeal Family

Pat and Olivia

The Star of Bailly School

Now the series conclusion;

A Different World

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Richard Miles and Ike

40706.png About the Series:

As you conclude reading this series of books I hope you will have found some humorous, some heart rending and maybe some informative stories. They are not intended to be a thorough, factual, accurate, or a complete account of anyone’s life, they are simply stories based on the life of a rural farm family that no longer exists. However, ‘no story written on paper,’ can ever tell the ‘whole story’ of a family’s life and I haven’t tried.

With that said, this, as with all the books of this series, is based on the lives of people I have known some time, somewhere but are used fictitiously. The main characters in the series have been members of my own family dating back to Great Great Grand Parents, Hans and Bessie Fredrickson. But every once in a while a completely fictitious character or one from another part of my life slips into the story. All names have been changed to protect {their privacy and my life}.

As with the people the setting is true, the events {could have happened} just as I have told them. Special emphases is placed on, ‘could have.’

While most of the events in this series have a basis of truth they are also exaggerated and or modified in the way {I wanted to tell the story}.

{You might call it true fiction.}

The original manuscript for this series surrounded only events of the fictional Patrick and Olivia Harris family which make up the last three books. But it grew to include generations of forgotten people. Long ago forgotten people have come to life again on the pages of my books. I brought them back to life and have been saddened to watch them go again thru the process of death. Hans and Bessie Frederickson along with Hans’ brother John, their girls Althea and Mariea, Benjamin Franklin Harris, Roland and Ida Crankenbeal Harris along with all the Harris and Crankenbeal family, Patrick and Olivia Neally Harris and all of their family, the James and Eliza Neally family (all fictitious names), but their characters have inspired me to write this series. Because of that, for me, writing this series has been both a happy and sorrowful journey.

As you read you may find yourself smiling, or possibly feel a tear fill your eye. But whatever your emotional reactions are to these stories my hope is to point you to the person of Jesus Christ. He is the only one who can save you and me from this cursed sinful world and give us an eternal home in heaven.

Roger

40709.png Prologue

It was April 1942 and the home of Patrick, or Pat, and Olivia Harris was bursting at the seams. Their baby, Richard Miles, was four months old. His brother Jim Bob was two and a half and his oldest brother Presley was seven in February. Roberta, his oldest sister, would be twelve in May and Melissa Fae was going to be ten in October.

Pat and Olivia Harris now with five children all lived in the small three room house by the edge of the woods Pat’s grandparents and parents both lived in when they were first married. Pat was born in this house and now, at this time, all but one of his children had been born here.

After returning to the house from the barn one morning Pat told Olivia;

We have another new calf this morning, I talked Poppy out of two more cows and all five of ours have a new calf now.

Olivia listened with interest to her husband who had just come back to the house after choring. She knew each new calf meant there would be calves to sell later in the summer and now there would be plenty of milk to use plus cream to separate and sell. Selling cream would buy the few groceries they needed from the store.

But Olivia’s real interest wasn’t in the new calves being born, the young birds chirping outside or any other signs of new life except that of her own new baby Richard Miles. She was relieved when spring finally arrived and the end of Whooping Cough for that year. Her baby Patricia Joann, born four years earlier, died three months old of Whooping Cough.

Pat worked in a coal mine through the winter, several years making only one dollar a day. The 1940’s were already looking better than the previous years. This last winter, most days, he had made two dollars a day.

They left the little house by the edge of the woods in the summer of 1946 to rent the Silas Barton farm. It was only a couple of miles down the road to the Silas Barton farm but it seemed like a different world to a four year old boy. Richard was leaving the only world he knew, the little house, Spring Creek, Poppy and Grandma Harris, the dirt road and the bridge over Spring Creek which was a wonderful place to play.

He didn’t know it then but one day he would hear about going to another world that would be far better and wonderfully different than the one waiting at the Silas Barton farm.

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Chapter One

New Life

Spring 1942

I can’t wait for spring to get here, was heard over and over in the Harris house. Sometimes it came from Roberta, Melissa Fae or Presley as they prepared to walk to school. They couldn’t wait for the snow to leave the ground, it seemed as though months had passed since they saw anything but ice and snow. Presley was tired of wearing his cap pulled down over his ears and extra pants with overshoes to wade the snow. He was anxious to get down along the creek to play in the water or anything without having to put on coats and overshoes. The girls just wanted to get outside again and see the spring flowers, green grass and pretty butterflies. Pat was tired of walking to the mine in the snow too, he thought it would never end that year.

But the cold winter of 1941-42 was finally over and spring had arrived in its place bringing with it all the promises of new life. Just a short time ago Mother Nature appeared to have failed her mission. Last fall all the tree’s green leaves had turned brown and fallen from their limbs leaving them to stand naked, bare limbed, and unclothed all during the winter’s cold, snow and howling wind. If the trees could have spoken to Mother Nature surely they would have asked to be clothed during the winter’s cold and not wait for the spring’s sunny warmth.

But having stood as naked dead trees all winter here they were holding their arms up toward the sky drinking in the warm rays of sunshine. Their limbs were swaying slightly to the rhythm of a spring breeze enjoying their selves as young couples might as they swayed their bodies to the sound of melodious music.

Now, new buds had appeared as if by magic from those dead looking trees that would soon cover their bare limbs with all the beauty God placed within their wooden souls. Without mouths to speak with and voices to sing perhaps each spring this was their way of showing their thanks to the God of creation.

All around the edge of the woods early flowers were standing up with the promise that soon they would be holding their blossoms high waving them like flags in the most prestigious military parade. Red ones, white ones, blue ones and pink with their delicate pedals could be found hiding under the cover of dead tree leaves, beside fallen tree trunks and road banks, all wanting to show their beauty off to the world once again.

Birds had returned from their winter homes some place in the warmer south. Robins were always a sure sign of spring but this year they had arrived before Mother Nature was ready for them and forced them to hold up getting their new homes started. Black Birds, Blue Jays, Red Headed Wood Peckers and Meadow Larks were all making their appearances. Wrens, Blue Birds, Canaries and Humming Birds would be along soon helping to fill the sky and trees with their songs and beauty. Whippo Wills would sing their evening songs while all the rest were getting settled for the night.

But already as if nothing could hold back the natural force God placed within their tiny body’s nests were alive with the chirping voices of naked baby birds. Parent birds were put to the test now protecting and feeding those new lives they had brought into the world. Building their nests and laying eggs had been the easy part, getting their babies grown and out of the nest was the true test of parenthood. And true they were to their calling of protection; it was not unusual to see two small birds diving around an intruder too close to their nest of young babies. Squirrels, hawks and owls all took their toll when the smaller birds began to fill their nests with eggs and then babies.

Milk cows had given birth to new calves that were playing joyfully around their mothers, stopping occasionally to taste the warm milk from their mother’s udder. Soon they would be separated and spend days bawling for each other but right now mother cow and baby enjoyed being together.

The winter’s brown grass had turned green again and started to grow. Everywhere you looked signs of new life could be seen around the Harris farm. But in no place was new life more evident than in Pat and Olivia’s house where their new baby, Richard Miles, was alive and well, born December 17th, 1941 just one day later than Patricia Joann, who died of whooping cough in 1937. Whooping cough took its toll nearly every winter at some body’s house. One year it was Pat’s parent’s last baby, then his brother Floyd’s baby fell victim to this dreaded disease, and their baby had been next.

Olivia hadn’t taken her baby out of the house but once to go see the kids Christmas program at school. She wanted to go in the worst way but Pat felt she was unnecessarily reckless with such a tiny baby. Richard Miles was just five days old, much younger than any of the other kids had been out of the house but he survived. His guardian angel must already have been at work since whooping cough was always around somewhere. It was like measles or mumps, when it started in a bunch of kids, at home or at school, they all took it before it would stop.

After going to the Christmas program Olivia felt better and was content to stay inside with her baby the rest of winter.

I won’t want to go out again until spring, she told Pat.

I just felt like I had to get out of this house or go crazy, here by myself all day, shut up with two dogs, Bob running through the house hollering and a new baby.

I’m so shut up in here the house could burn down and we would all burn up with it before I even knew it was on fire.

After she told Pat about the house burning down he started thinking about how much wood and coal he should leave in the house.

It might be better if you didn’t try to keep the house too warm this old house has wooden shingles on the roof. If too many sparks fly out of the chimney they might set the roof on fire.

Oh! I was just being simple about the house, you don’t have to worry I won’t burn it down, not while it’s cold anyway.

But just the same every morning before he left he cautioned her about getting the stove too hot. One morning after he was gone she told the kids;

I guess he thinks I’m getting old and feeble minded having to tell me every morning to be careful.

Mommy, is your mind going to stop working very good?

It was Presley, he didn’t know what feeble minded meant but he had heard about old people becoming feeble and wondered if her mind was getting old.

Mommy, is your mind getting old? he asked still another question before she answered the first one so she cut the questions short.

No, Presley, my mind isn’t getting old I’ve just used it a lot.

I don’t know if it’s going to stop working or not but if it does I want you to take a two by four board and hit me in the head with it. I don’t ever want to get like old Granny Harris got before she died.

How did old Granny Harris get? Presley persisted.

Real forgetful, she lost her mind and couldn’t remember anything.

Couldn’t she ever find it?

By now Olivia saw she wasn’t getting anywhere answering Presley’s questions and told him to get along before he was late getting to school.

Ask your teacher some of these questions I’m sure he can answer them for you.

Does he know where old Granny Harris lost her mind?

Come on Presley, Roberta directed him toward the back door, let’s get going.

Bye Mommy, she called. Bye Mommy, Bye Mommy, Melissa Fae and Presley both echoed as she ushered them out the door.

Bye kids, be sweet today, Olivia called after them. She walked to the front room window and watched as they came around the house to the road where Martha and Lori Ballard were waiting. After exchanging their usual greetings they all continued on toward the bridge where Mitchell and Beverly Jean waited to join the group.

She worried about her girls as she watched them all trudge innocently down the road. Not a care in the world but how soon that could all change. In just another month Roberta would be twelve, so near to her time that would make her life be different. Gone would be the last strings of innocence when life was so simple, so easy.

She thought of her own life at that age when she thought nothing about sitting on the river bank with her brother or following him through the woods looking for a red squirrel to shoot. She helped him clean his fish or skin his rabbits and squirrels and thought it was the most fun just to be with her big brother.

She thought of the house her parents lived in just above the river that was no longer there. All they had to do was go down over the back side of the hill and there was the river. Olivia learned where every crook, hole, rock and tree there was along the river banks. If her brother, Lester, said to her;

Come on Sister, let’s go fishing, she thought she had to go follow him around. She never dreamed there could be danger for a young girl lurking just around the river bend or on the other side of some hill or turn in the road. She didn’t know she was being watched by Pat’s cousin Lyle, already a grown man, watching her as she was growing into a mature young woman. But one summer day the year she was fifteen and a half while she walked the road to their mailbox it happened so suddenly at first she was scared, then seeing who it was hoped he meant her no harm but soon knew otherwise. Her heart pounded in fear when suddenly he grabbed her by the arms and started pulling her toward the trees, he would have forced her down but she fought him like a wild animal, desperate for her life.

Let me go, Lyle, she screamed over and over. Or I will tell Martha and everyone in the county what you are doing."

At first she thought her threats had caused him to turn her loose but at the same time heard a Whomp made by the sound of a tree limb hitting Lyle in the back of the head, Lester had come to her rescue.

That was the day when she lost all childhood innocence. That was the day she learned everyone couldn’t be trusted. From then on she knew when a man looked at her they didn’t see a young girl but a young woman fully grown. She never thought of herself as a woman before, just a girl growing up under the watchful eyes of her parents. If she had been allowed to start high school at Limonia and had this happen at school then they would have said,

See, we tried to tell you that you didn’t need to go to school any more. It’s your own fault for letting it happen. If you had stayed home like we wanted you to this would never have happened.

But she didn’t get to go to high school, her parents said, No, she didn’t need to go to school anymore and that was that.

Yet, Lyle had nearly forced her to lie with him, what could she tell her parents? Nothing she decided, it would only cause a misunderstanding, it’s better if I remain quiet and asked Lester not to tell either.

She remembered the hot summer day, following the incident with Lyle when she decided to go to the river alone and sit in one of her favorite places. It was above a riffle, a bed of small rocks that spread all across the river. They seemed to be imbedded and held in place by something like cement poured underneath them. The riffle never moved or changed it had been there as long as anyone could remember but no one knew why it was there. The water ran just inches deep over the riffle for thirty or forty feet. At times she walked out on the riffle and stood just to feel the water running across her bare feet. But this time she just wanted to be alone and think. She sat on a fallen tree where she could hear the water running across the riffle. Occasionally a fish air bubble or tail flipped the water that let her know she wasn’t alone.