RACHEL'S SUMMER
61
Then, the last of June, just a few days before she was to leave,
Mother changed her mind, saying that Rachel would have to stay
home for the summer the same as the rest of us. I remember we
didn't think much of it at the time; but I remember, too, that Rachel
was hopping mad, at first, and cried a lot when she couldn't go,
and cried often during that summer too. It seemed that she changed,
then, and became a little older and more grown·up-she acted sort
of aloof and thoughtful all the time, and wouldn't play with us the
way she used to, or go for hikes into the country with us, as we had
been doing since we were little kids-those wonderful hikes that
she had always loved before. Or maybe she didn't really change at
all and I only say this because of what I know now. I don't know.
I only know that though she didn't go away that summer, and so
could have gone on more hikes with us than ever, she never went
on another hike again. Anyway, when Mrs. Kirtle said that, about
God
keeping Rachel home with Mother, we knew what she meant,
and it did seem right, too. It seemed God must have known what
was going to happen and so kept Rachel home for what was to be
her last summer. It made me feel kind of good, even, when I
thought of this; you could feel almost happy about it,
if
you
wanted to, and it wouldn't be wrong, either.
Mother put her hands down from her head and sat straight
up. There was no sob or weeping in her voice now.
"It
wasn't God
who kept Rachel home this summer," she said. "You know that as
well as I do, Doris Kirtle."
"Why, Ellen, don't misunder- You know what I mean,"
Mrs. Kirtle said. "The Lord works in mysterious ways."
I knew the rest of that. "His wonders to perform," it went,
because I had heard Mr. Brittain say it during the funeral service
and I thought it the most wonderful thing I had ever heard.
"Rachel's summer- Rachel's summer," Mother went on.
"That's all I've been able to think of since it happened. That's the
whole-"
"Now now, Ellen," interrupted my
fathe~.
"You mustn't
think of it."
"My darling Rachel, and that terrible terrible summer," my
mother cried.
"If
God had had his way, Rachel wouldn't have
stayed home. Oh, why didn't I let her go?"
My grandmother got up from the table. "Come on, boys," she
