Gilbert Morris - The Homeplace

Also by Gilbert Morris

Jacobs Way
Jordans Star
Gods Handmaiden
Edge of Honor
The Spider Catcher
Charade

The Singing River Series
The Homeplace
The Dream

ZONDERVAN

The HOMEPLACE
Copyright 2005 by Gilbert Morris

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

ePub Edition January 2009 ISBN: 978-0-310-31807-1

Requests for information should be addressed to:

Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Morris, Gilbert

The homeplace / Gilbert Morris.

p. cm.(Singing river series; bk. 1)

ISBN-10: 0-310-25232-6
ISBN-13: 978-0-310-25232-0

I. Title.

PS3563.O8742H655 2005
813.54dc22
2005010115

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the King James Version.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

06 07 08 09 10 11 12 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

To Doug Freeman

Its good to have one real hero in our family, Buddy.

Thanks for what you and a lot of other guys did at Normandy!

Contents

A wedge of pale sunlight slanted through the window to Lanies left, touching her auburn hair and bringing out a slight golden tint. She bent over the Warm Morning cookstove, opened the firebox, then with quick, economical movements removed the gray ashes with a small shovel, dumping them into a five-gallon can. She reached down into an old apple crate filled with what her dad called rich pine fragments of pine knots so soaked with sap that when lit with a match they would burn like a torch.

Piling several knots onto the grate of the firebox, Lanie took a kitchen match from a box that rested on a shelf and struck the match on the rough strip on the side. She leaned down and held the flame against the wood until the rich pine caught. Quickly she pulled small pieces of pine kindling from a box and put them on top of the blaze. She crisscrossed three smaller sticks of white oak firewood, arranging them expertly so that a draft was formed, causing them to burn evenly. She shut the firebox door and opened the draft on the stovepipe, then paused, listening to the crackle of the flames and the rush of air up the chimney. Satisfied, she turned the knob for the damper partway to slow down the fire.

Lanie Belle Freeman paused, listening to the fire. She tucked a rebellious curl from her forehead behind her ear. At fourteen, Lanie had reached that stage when adolescence gives way to young womanhood. She was thoughtful in most thingscautious and sometimes slow to decide, but moved quickly once she made up her mind. Her faded green dress with a white-flower print revealed the curves of an emerging woman. Her arms suggested a strength unusual for one her age. Sunlight highlighted the curves of her cheeks. Her eyes were large and gray with a hint of green. They were well-shaped, widely spaced, and contemplative, but at times could flash with temper. Her lips were full and expressive, and when she smiled, a dimple appeared on her right cheek.

She moved to a tall wooden kitchen cabinet with a gray-speckled porcelain countertop and pulled open the flour bin. Plenty of flour, she murmured. A thought came to her and she picked up a Big Chief notebook on the counter and crossed to a table set against the far wall just beside the icebox. As she picked up a pen and sat down at the table in a cane-bottomed chair, a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Opening the book to a blank page, she began to write. Her handwriting was smooth, even, and neatly executed:

April the 12th, 1928
Lanie Belle Freeman
600 Jefferson Davis Avenue
Fairhope
Stone County
Arkansas
America
North America
Earth
Solar System
Milky Way Galaxy

Lanie studied what she had put down. A quizzical look touched her eyes and she smiled. Theres just one more place to go after that, I reckon. At the bottom of the list she added Universe, then studied what she had written.

She smiled, then laughed out loud. Now I reckon I know right where I am.

Closing the book abruptly, she pushed it to the back of the table and put the pen beside it. Suddenly she took a deep breath. Ice! she said. Whirling, she walked to the oak icebox and opened the ice compartment. All that was left was a small lump of ice. She shut the door and bent down to check the drip pan. It was almost full. She dashed out of the kitchen and down the long hall that led to the front porch, then turned right into the living room. She caught a glimpse of her brother Cody working with something in the middle of the floor, but ignored him. Going to the window, she reached up on the wall and pulled down a foot-square card that was marked on different sides in large black numbers: 25, 50, 75, and 100. She put the card in the window with the 100 upright to let the iceman know the size ice block she needed.

Cody, Lanie said, turning to the boy, go empty the drip pan from under the icebox.

Aw, shoot, Im busy, Lanie. You do it.

Cody Freeman did not even look up. He had a screwdriver in one hand and was assembling some sort of apparatus. At the age of eleven he spent most of his waking hours inventing things. Few ever worked, but he had unshakable confidence that someday he would be another Edison.

You heard what I said, Cody. Now leave that thing alone. You can come back after you empty the drip pan.

Cody grumbled, but got to his feet. He had the same auburn hair and gray-green eyes as Lanie, and there was a liveliness about him. He hurried down the hall, and by the time Lanie got to the kitchen, he had dragged out the drip pan and succeeded in spilling a widening pool of water on the floor.

Youre making a mess, Cody!

Well, dang it, I cant help it if the dumb ol things full!

If youd empty it when youre supposed to, it wouldnt get full.

Now get it out of here.

Im gonna invent something thatll drain this dadgummed ol icebox so nobodyll have to carry the dumb water out!

Well, until you do, just take it outand stop calling everything dumb.

Lanie held the screen door open for Cody, who walked out with the pan, leaving a trail of water behind him. After checking the firebox, Lanie nodded with satisfaction. The rich pine had caught, and the fire was blazing. Straightening, she turned the damper down a little more to lessen the air intake. She had become an expert in building fires in the wood stove and rather liked it.