Caleb's Story Quotes

“... I want most of all for you to forgive Grandfather. I want you to forgive Grandfather so I can grow up and be just like you.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Things happen, Jacob," I heard Sarah say. "The rope broke. I could have died."
"Don't, Sarah," said Papa.
"You could have lost me, Jacob," said Sarah. "And that's the way life is. Something happens . . . one little moment in time. If you're lucky, you have a chance to make things better. You have that chance here. Don't let it pass.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“What happened last night was my fault," I said. "I put up the rope, Sarah. I must have done it wrong."
"Fault?" said Sarah. "Oh, Caleb, I want you to listen to me. There comes a time when fault doesn't matter. Things happen. And we can't blame ourselves--or someone else--forever."
I heard a noise behind me, and saw Papa standing there, Cassie beside him. I knew he had heard Sarah's words.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Papa sat down at the table. Grandfather poured him coffee.
"You must have been up all night," he said to Papa.
Papa looked at Sarah.
"I didn't want her to go back to sleep," he said.
Grandfather smiled.
"No, you didn't.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Remember you asked me who I wanted to be like?" I said to Sarah.
Sarah nodded.
"It's Papa. I want to be like Papa," I said.
For some reason--I couldn't say why--I began to cry. Sarah reached out and took my hand. But I cried so hard that, finally, Sarah got up and came to sit by me, putting her arms around me. Lottie and Nick came over to us, Lottie putting her head in my lap so that my tears fell onto her nose.
Cassie came into the room.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing," said Sarah. "Not one thing in the world is wrong.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“The kitchen is full of people and food. The turkey sits on the table, Grandfather carving it and cursing at it. Papa laughs at this, as if it is something old, something familiar.
Sun comes in the windows so that everything and everyone is touched by it, like gold, even Seal and Min by the fire.
Papa is smiling again. Sarah has not stopped. Even Lottie and Nick seem to smile as they hope for Grandfather to drop the turkey for them to eat.
Cassie is practicing saying a new grace, one that does not have “fuud” in it. I like the “fuud” grace myself.
Soon, Sam and Justin and Anna will drive up the road and into the yard. Everyone will run outside to greet them, and the dogs will bark and leap up, and I can tease Anna again about Justin because he is home again and safe.
Grandfather will stay. He has started writing in the journal I gave him, but he won’t let me read it yet.
He says it is private.
The winter came early and will stay longer. There will be winds and storms, but I don’t care. There is happiness here now. What Sarah told Cassie is true. Not one thing in the world is wrong.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“All those years…I was so little…and I began to think that somehow, something I had done had made you go away.”
“No,” said Grandfather quickly. “What I did was wrong. Your mother and I could not live together anymore. But what I did was wrong. It was my fault. All my fault.”
“Fault,” said Papa very softly. “Sarah says fault doesn’t matter.”
Grandfather handed Papa a small sheet of paper.
“I started to write you a letter,” he said.
Papa read what was written there, but didn’t speak.
“It says ‘I love you, Jacob,’” said Grandfather.
Papa looked at the paper for a long time.
“Don’t go,” he said, his voice low. “Please don’t leave us again. You belong here. I don’t want to miss you again. Ever.”
Grandfather put his arms around Papa, and they stood in the small room, holding on to each other.
I turned and went downstairs, where Sarah still sat at the kitchen table. I sat across from her.
“Remember when you asked me who I wanted to be like?” I said to Sarah.
Sarah nodded.
“It’s Papa. I want to be like Papa,” I said.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Any letters from Justin?” Sarah asked Sam.
“No letters for a while. Anna waits for the mail every day.”
“Are you worried?” asked Sarah.
Sam got up and put on his coat.
“Yes, a little. Letters take such a long time.”
“And the influenza?” asked Papa.
“Better, Jacob. Fewer cases. I think it has run its course,” said Sam.
“We think about Justin every day,” said Sarah.
“Thoughts are good,” said Sam with a smile. “Having him here would be better.”
Sam went to the door and turned.
“No work, Jacob. And”--he looked at Grandfather--“you know what I think.”
“What does that mean?” asked Sarah.
“It’s--” Sam began.
“Private,” said Sarah and Sam at the same time.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“I handed Grandfather a blank book.
“What is this?” he asked.
“This is yours,” I said. “Yours to write in. You can do it now.”
Grandfather opened it. I had written his name--JOHN WITTING--there. He turned the pages and saw them all empty and white. Grandfather put a hand on his chest.
“Grandfather?”
I was scared. I thought he was sick.
Grandfather waved me away.
“It isn’t pain,” he said to me.
He closed his empty book and looked at me.
“It’s love,” he said.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“What’s your horse’s name?” I asked Grandfather.
“Jack,” said Grandfather.
“Papa had a horse named Jack, too,” I told him.
Grandfather didn’t answer.
“Sarah’s right. You and Papa are alike,” I said.
I knew Grandfather wouldn’t answer. And he didn’t.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Dear Mr. Jacob Witting,’” read Grandfather haltingly, slowly. “‘I am Sarah Wheaton from Maine…’”
He looked at me.
“That was her first letter to Jacob?” he asked.
I nodded.
“The answer to Papa’s advertisement for a wife and mother,” I said. “And then she wrote to us. See, there.”
I pointed, and Grandfather began to read.
“‘My favorite colors are the colors of the sea, blue and gray and green, depending on the weather.’”
Grandfather sat back.
“She came a long way.”
“We were excited,” I said. “Sarah wrote that she was coming. And then she added something for Anna and me that made us even more excited.”
“What?” asked Grandfather. “What did she write?”
I turned the pages of the journal.
“There,” I said. I couldn’t help smiling.
“‘Tell them I sing,’” read Grandfather.
He couldn’t help smiling either.
“We were afraid she wouldn’t stay,” I said. “She loved Maine.”
Grandfather nodded. He closed the book that Anna had written so long ago. I could tell our lesson was over for today. Grandfather walked to the window and looked out over the farm.
“You always love what you know first,” he said. “Always,” he repeated softly.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Wait. I’ll take you in to the doctor,” she called to Grandfather.
Grandfather waved his hand and climbed up the steps.
“I’ll do this myself,” he said.
Anna smiled.
“I was about to ask what he was like,” she said.
“That’s easy,” I said. “He’s like…”
“Papa,” we said at the same time, laughing.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“You came during an early snowstorm,”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Grandfather stood at his window, looking out over the farm. As if he didn’t even see me, Papa passed me and went into Grandfather’s room. Grandfather and Papa, so much alike, faced each other.
“Jacob?” said Grandfather. “Sit down.”
Papa shook his head.
“I’m all right. I’ll stand,” said Papa, leaning on his cane.
There was a long silence. Then came Papa’s voice, softer than I’d heard it in a long time.
“Why didn’t you take me with you? All those years ago. I wanted to be with you. No matter where you were.”
“Jacob--” said Grandfather.
But Papa went on.
“You didn’t write. Not one letter. And I waited and waited.”
“I know,” said Grandfather. “I couldn’t write, Jacob, because…I didn’t know how to write you. I never learned.”
Papa moved closer to Grandfather.
“I was so ashamed,” whispered Grandfather. “Caleb knew. Caleb taught me. All the evenings in this room, Caleb taught me how to read. So I could write to you.”
Papa turned and saw me standing in the doorway.
“Caleb did that?” said Papa. “All those years…I was so little…and I began to think that somehow, something I had done had made you go away.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Papa?”
Papa turned from the window and sat on the bed.
“What is it, Caleb?”
“My birthday is coming,” I said.
“Yes, it is,” said Papa.
“And I don’t want books or tools or even a horse of my own for my birthday.”
Papa looked up, surprised.
“You’ve always wanted a horse of your own, Caleb.”
“Not this year,” I said. “What I want this year is something different.”
“Different?” repeated Papa.
I nodded.
“This year I want most of all for you to forgive Grandfather. I want you to forgive Grandfather so I can grow up and be just like you,” I said.
Papa stared at me. He said nothing. He lay back on the bed, and, after a moment, I went away. I closed the door behind me.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Would you sing me a song?” asked Cassie.
“I don’t know any songs,” said Grandfather.
“Yes, you do,” said Cassie. “I heard you humming a song when you were in your bedroom. When the door was closed. I was outside, listening.”
“Were you?” said Grandfather with a small smile. “What song?”
Cassie hummed a little of a song.
“Did I hum that?” said Grandfather. “That was a long time ago. Too long ago for me to remember the words.”
Cassie didn’t say anything. She stared at Grandfather for a long time. Finally, he gave in.
“Oh, all right,” he said.
“Don’t you laugh,” Grandfather warned me. “Don’t even smile.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“You can’t do all the work, John,” said Sam. “Your heart can’t take it.”
“Nonsense,” said Grandfather.
“Oh, I see,” said Sam. “You feel guilty for leaving Jacob when he was little. So you’ll make up for it by working hard and dying. That will make things right again?”
“More nonsense,” said Grandfather. “Want some more coffee? I made it.”
Sam shook his head.
“Stubborn,” he said. “Old fool.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Where’s Cassie, Caleb? Is she asleep?” asked Sarah.
Grandfather smiled. He leaned over and took Cassie’s foot, sticking out from under the daybed.
“I found you, Cassie,” he whispered. “I found you.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Before you go to sleep I want you to read my book. I want you to read what I’ve written about you.”
“Not now, Caleb,” said Grandfather.
I took a deep breath.
“I’ll read it to you, Grandfather,” I said.
I opened my book. I began to read to him.
“‘I love that Grandfather has come to our farm. His farm. I love having a grandfather who will teach me about a time I never knew. Someone who can tell me that he had a sweet dog, Rags, and that once he fell out of a tree in the west meadow. Someone who will teach me about Papa.
“‘I know a secret about Grandfather.”
I looked up at Grandfather. He stared at me.
“‘I know that Grandfather doesn’t wear eyeglasses. I know why he doesn’t read my journal, Anna’s journals. I know why he never wrote a letter to Papa when he went away.’”
I stopped. I felt tears at the corners of my eyes.
“You don’t know how to read, Grandfather, do you?” I said very softly, almost whispering. “So you didn’t know how to write a letter to Papa.”
Grandfather didn’t say anything. I moved closer to the bed and showed him my book.
“You can learn,” I said. “You can.”
“That’s enough, Caleb,” he said.
Grandfather moved to the window. He stared out into the dark.
“I’m too old,” he said more softly.
I went over and took Grandfather’s hand.
“Grandfather,” I said, looking up at him. “I am going to teach you.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“First the war, then the influenza…” she said. “An early winter…”
“And then Grandfather,” I said, making her smile.
“I like Grandfather,” said Cassie. “He calls me the Queen of Questions!”
Anna laughed.
“Cassie will tell you all about him. She asks him questions from morning until night,” said Sarah.
“And Caleb writes everything down in his journal!” said Cassie. “Someday I’m going to write everything down, too,” she added.
“Heaven help us,” said Sarah. She and Anna began to laugh.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“Do you like children?” asked Cassie, staring at Grandfather.
Grandfather took a spoonful of soup.
“Do you? Like children?” asked Cassie again.
Sarah reached out her hand and put it on Cassie’s arm to stop her talk.
“Don’t know many,” said Grandfather.
“Do you like the ones you know?”
“No,” said Grandfather.
Cassie was surprised at Grandfather’s answer. Her mouth fell open.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story

“He turned to Cassie, who had been staring at him all this time.
“Doesn’t she do anything?” he asked me.
I smiled.
“She’s little. She doesn’t do much. She draws. She plays hide-and-seek.”
“Hide-and-seek! Good idea. Go hide,” he said to Cassie.
Cassie waited.
“You have to count,” I said.
“Ah. One, two, three, four…”
“Slower,” I told him.
John sighed.
“Fiiive, siiix.”
Cassie ran off. John leaned back, looking pleased.
“There,” he said. “She’s gone.”
― Patricia MacLachlan, Caleb's Story