by Carré White
“I certainly don’t mean to.”
“I’ve been thinking about this situation.”
“That’s refreshing.”
He appeared to be taking a deep breath. “I sympathize with your plight, Mrs. Hatch, but the children aren’t related to me in any way. I’m willing to guide them down the spiritual path to commune with our Lord, but I am not obligated to see to their care and maintenance. With the exception of homelessness, of course, but that’s not the case here. I’ve collected the names of several families who are willing to take them, but none will have all five at once.”
That was the last thing I had wanted to hear. “I see.” My shoulders were back, as I fumed with irritation. “You won’t lift a finger to share in the responsibility, because you feel it’s a hardship for them to go back and forth between our houses, but you have no qualms about splitting them up. YOU WOULD RATHER HAVE THEM SEPARATED!”
“Please lower your voice.”
“Coming here has been an enormous waste of time. I should’ve known you’d be completely unreliable. You—how old are you, if I may ask?”
“I’m not twenty-five yet.” The question seemed to perplex him.
“I assume you’re unmarried.”
“I am.”
“Well, I can see why.”
A hint of pink appeared on his cheeks. “I beg your pardon?”
“You might be capable of delivering a rather tepid sermon, but you lack in other essentials.”
“Before you continue on this path,” his voice held a hint of warning, “I’ll politely ask you not to judge my character by what little you’ve seen.”
“Oh, I’ve seen more than enough. I thought we’d reached an agreement the other day, but you’ve gone back on your word, which means your word is worth nothing.”
Knowing that I would now have to deal with the children on my own brought the reality of the situation into sobering focus. Whatever hopes and dreams I had for my future would have to either be abandoned or postponed.
He must have sensed my distress, because his features softened slightly, as he stared steadily. “I’m sorry for the situation you find yourself in, Mrs. Hatch. I know the children are a shock. I’m appalled that Jason lied to you. Such behavior was beneath him; it really was. I wish I could help you, but, although you find my sermons less than inspiring, others count on me to deliver them. You may not think much of me in that regard,” his brows had drawn together, “but hopefully you’ll see things with greater clarity in the future.” He looked concerned. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that it’s not your problem. I was stupid to think that anyone would help me. I’ll…just do…whatever,” I finished lamely, feeling utterly worn-down in that long, awful moment. “I won’t trouble you again, sir. I’m sorry I’ve disturbed your peace. Good day.” He looked like he would say something else, but I wouldn't give him the chance, as I turned away. With as much dignity as I could muster, I approached the children. “Well, there’s been a change of plans.” Expectant eyes gazed at me. Jane had pursed her lips.
“No,” said a male voice. I hadn’t realized Pastor Bailey had followed me. “It’s fine. Leave them here.”
It was an effort to face him. I struggled to hide the tears that wanted to pour from me in a never-ending stream of grief. “We’ve bothered you long enough, sir.”
“It’s no trouble. I’ll take them until Sunday. My housekeeper will help me.”
“But you’re right. They’re not yours. I was wrong to even ask you for help. It’s my disaster.” I shrugged; feeling a swell of emotion I wished would go away.
He took my arm. “Excuse us for a moment.” We headed for the front of the church.
“W-what are you doing?”
“You have to hold it together, Mrs. Hatch. You’re dangerously close to losing your composure.”
“How can you tell?”
We were just inside the doorway of the office, no more than two feet apart. “You’ve five souls who depend on you. It’s important not to fall apart in front of the children.”
“When can I fall apart then? I’m in a room with three girls. I would dearly love to have a good cry, but I can’t do it there either.” Just the thought of having a moment of privacy brought a rush of wetness to my eyes, the tears spilling over.
He reached into a pocket, withdrawing a handkerchief, dabbing at my face, but this show of concern only aided in fresh tears, as I succumbed to an even greater bout of self-pity. I sniffed, my body trembling with an avalanche of emotion that was far too strong to suppress. I leaned into him, resting my forehead against his pristine white shirt. His sack coat was rough to the touch, having been made of inferior fabric. He didn’t push me away, letting me cry, while I shuddered with the force of my unhappiness. When the tears slowed, I remained in his arms, finding the embrace comforting. His hand was on my back, rubbing gently, while my bonnet had fallen away, the lace at my throat pulled taut. I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent, which was a combination of cologne and the way clothing smelled after it had been hung out on the line.
“Mrs. Hatch,” said a female voice. It was Jane. “What are we to do?”
“Oh!” I stepped away from Pastor Bailey, heat rising on my cheeks. “I’m…oh, I guess we’re going to my sister’s house.”
“I’ll take them until Sunday.”
My anger seemed to have vanished, which was perplexing. I wished Jane hadn’t interrupted, because I had enjoyed being in his arms. “No, Pastor Bailey. I shouldn’t have asked you to help.” His concerned look took on an edge. He assumed I would verbally attack him again. “I…I don’t want to fight. I’m trying to say that I’ve been wrong. It was wrong to ask you to share in this. They…” I glanced at Jane…“my children will stay with me from here on out. I don’t want to uproot them twice a week. That’s ridiculous. You’re right about that, but they won’t be handed out to other families either. I plan to care for them the best I can.” I grasped the bonnet, placing it on my head, while securing the sash. “Well, then. That’s settled. Thank you for your…your…kindness, sir. I’ll see you again on Sunday.”
His look was regretful. “Perhaps I was wrong.”
I shook my head. “Not at all.” Now that I had accepted my fate, I felt a semblance of inner strength, although, whenever I met his gaze, I tingled strangely, feeling as if there were crickets bouncing around in my belly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so rude. This has been a trying time for me. I’ve not handled it well, sir.”
“Then I must apologize too. I’ve been less than helpful. If you wish to bring the children to my apartment, I’ll gladly take them.” His look revealed sincerity.
“I accept your apology.” I held out my hand. “I hope we can begin again. I know it’s almost impossible to ignore my behavior, but I wasn’t…in my right mind.”
He shook my hand. “I’ll consider the things you’ve said. I sometimes struggle to remember what His will is, and you’ve reminded me. Thank you.”
“I suppose.” He had yet to let go of my hand, our eyes locking. I found his deep blue irises entrancing; the moment was strangely intimate, as if we were the only people left in the world.
We had forgotten that Jane stood nearby, until she cleared her throat. “Might we go home then? I mean, may we return to Mrs. Weaver’s house?”
The spell had been broken. “Right.” My hand slid from his. “Yes, we’re going home.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Thank you.” He followed me, his presence acutely noted, as I sensed his proximity. “Come along, children. Plans have changed. You won’t have to go back and forth after all. You’ll just be with me.”
“Do you think Maria will make another chocolate cake?” Susanna’s eyes were the size of saucers.
“Oh, goodness, I’ve no idea. She knows how fond you are of dessert. I’m sure she’ll make something delicious.”
“I do hope so.”
Jane
continued to look dour; her expression rarely changed. I had yet to see her laugh or smile. I would redouble my efforts to find out why she loathed me so. Even Mary appeared to be softening to me; the edges of her mouth tilted upwards, but she forced the grin to disappear when Jane glared at her. These girls were utterly vexing, but this couldn’t go on indefinitely.
Pastor Bailey walked us out, helping Susanna into the wagon. The boys sat with her, while I stepped onto the conveyance, although I felt a touch on my elbow, as he aided my ascent.
“Thank you.”
“Please feel free to speak with me, if you’re struggling.”
“I wish I could take back some of the things I said, sir. I was—”
He held up a hand. “You’re one of the most opinionated women I’ve ever met.” A hint of a smile appeared. “I’m going to think about what you said. I might’ve needed to hear some of it.”
“You’re only being kind. I was beyond rude.”
“Might we go home, Fanny?” asked Peter. “I’ve got to use the privy.”
“Oh, goodness. You’d best do it here. We’ve an hour ride ahead of us.”
“Come with me, son.” Pastor Bailey held out his hand. “I’ll show you where it is.”
Peter sprang from the wagon. “I’ll be back!”
“We’re never going home,” griped Susanna.
“I’m sorry. Today has turned into one big muddle.” I glanced at Jane, who seemed entirely composed. What was she thinking? “Are you upset that you’re not staying with Pastor Bailey for the remainder of the week?”
She seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to respond. “I was looking forward to the quiet. He’s a thoughtful, steady man. His selections of books are to my taste.”
“Is that so? What sorts of books does he have?”
“William Blake, Thoreau, and Charlotte Brontë among many others.” Her chin lifted a notch, as she seemed to find this declaration important.
“I see.” I wasn’t sure what to think of Jane. She was determined to be difficult and standoffish. “Perhaps you should ask him if he’ll allow you to borrow a book or two? I would like to read Charlotte Brontë myself.”
“Well, there he is. You can ask him yourself.”
Pastor Bailey approached with Peter. “He’s feeling better now.”
The boy climbed into the wagon. “Thank you again, sir. I’m sorry I’ve bothered you.”
“No need to apologize.”
Now I couldn’t help wondering at his relationship with Jane. Did they stay awake late into the night discussing literature and poetry? Did he find her a pleasurable companion? Why did this idea dampen my spirits, leaving me with a disquieting feeling? I'd already overstayed my welcome, having called him names and then collapsing into a fit of tears. Embarrassment propelled me to grasp the reins, calling to the horse.
“Good day, sir.”
“Have a safe trip, Mrs. Hatch.”
How I hated to be addressed by that name. I would never allow myself to grow accustomed to it, especially since I had only been married for a matter of hours before Jason had passed on. “We will.” I felt his particular interest, and, as we drew towards the road, I wanted to glance over my shoulder, but it would be unladylike to do so.
Chapter Nine
Having accepted my fate, I threw myself into getting to know my children, although whenever I thought of the Hatch brood in such a way, it left me with a strange, yet endearing impression. During the next two weeks, I made many attempts to befriend Jane, who continued to respond coldly. Mary was in my corner now, especially since I had discovered how much she adored sewing. Her stitch was divine, straight and precisely executed. I had indulged her by letting her buy fabric at the mercantile, which she was assembling into a blouse. Every minute of her free time was occupied by this task, while she sat on the sofa and worked the material, her head bent diligently over the project.
Susanna and her brothers managed the animals, milking the cow twice daily and feeding George and the cat, Cottonball. The feline was aloof and unresponsive to all of us—except Jane. The white and gray cat slept with her, curling up at her side most nights. Although I was in the same bed, Cottonball would have nothing to do with me. Besides her brothers and sisters, the cat was the only other living thing in the house Jane was fond of, clearly finding my sister and I unacceptable. I attributed this to the conversation she had overheard, and I had wanted to discuss it with her, but her demeanor seemed to kill any dialogue before it even began. To compound matters, the closer Mary and I became, the more reclusive Jane was.
After church one Sunday, I took her aside. “We really should talk. Something’s bothering you, Jane. I wish you would confide in me. I’m not the enemy.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Hatch. I’m perfectly fine.”
We stood outside the church, while my parents spoke with my sister Paulina. “Jane, please.” I gazed into her eyes, but her expression was guarded. “I know you’ve been through a great deal over the last year. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. I know you hate me. I want you to know that I don’t hate you at all. I really wish we could be friends. I’m not trying to be your mother. We’re far too close in age for that. Can’t we be friends?”
“I…” Her glacial features faltered for a moment, but then the coldness was firmly in place again. “I shall do whatever you require of me.”
I sighed. “Oh, for goodness sakes.”
Pastor Bailey approached us; his look was relaxed and amiable. “Good day, Jane and Fanny.”
Since our last meeting, the tension and animosity that had been between us seemed to have lessened. “Hello.”
It was strange how my stomach flipped over in pleasurable little tingles whenever he was near. I’d enjoyed his sermon today. He spoke from Matthew 16:26, directing his attention towards the miners and their desire for gold. There had been several instances of violence lately as a result of greed. It was a good reminder for everyone that we shouldn’t lose sight of the things that were truly important to us, such as faith, kindness, and family.
“How are you?” He had directed this question towards Jane.
“I’m fine, and you?” She smiled brightly, which I found disquieting.
“Well.” His attention was on me. “How have they been?”
“We’re adjusting. Every day is an improvement.”
“You seem…composed.”
“It’s rare that I behave with civility.” I felt a moment of embarrassment for my past behavior, but a smile stole across my face. “I have yet to insult you, sir.”
“Well, the day is quite young.” He was teasing. I had never seen this side of him before, and it was refreshing.
“That’s true. There’s still hope for a row yet.” Our eyes met, as the air suddenly seemed charged with energy.
Jane’s countenance had grown stony. “Pastor Bailey, might I borrow a book or two from you?”
She had effectively broken the spell. “Why, yes, of course.”
“There’s nothing at all decent to read at the Weaver’s, unless you’re fond of books about Indians and shipwrecks.” She was referring to “The Swiss Family Robinson” and “The Last of the Mohicans”, which Peter and Connor loved. “My tastes run more towards realism than fantastical romance.”
Appreciation shone in his smile. “I might have a few books to accommodate you.”
“I know you do. I’ve seen what’s on your bookshelf.”
“Then stop by before you leave town. My housekeeper will let you in.”
Glancing between them, I couldn’t help wondering if Jane harbored a crush on Pastor Bailey. Her smile was as open and unrestrained as I had ever witnessed it. I watched him carefully, feeling a twinge of envy; the possibility existed that he might find her charming and attractive. She was young, but many girls married at this age. His demeanor remained polite, his posture relaxed. It was when he looked at me that I began to buzz with pleasure. The feeling was as
tonishing, especially considering how dreadful our first two meetings had been.
“We’ll get those books, Jane,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to suffer through the horrors of inferior literature.” There was sarcasm in my tone, with a hint of humor, but it was lost on her.
“Thank you.”
Pastor Bailey’s grin revealed that he knew I was teasing. “I’ve some books in my office as well. They’re slightly more religious, but some of the tales are entertaining.”
Mother approached. “Darlings, we’re about to go. Hello, Pastor Bailey. It was a lovely sermon.”
“Good day, Mrs. Hoffman.”
“Will you come to brunch? Paulina’s house isn’t that far away.”
“I can’t, but thank you for inviting me.”
“Perhaps next Sunday?”
“Yes, I’ll mark it on my calendar.”
“Excellent.”
Father had brought the wagon around, the conveyance stopping several feet from where we were. They boys and Susanna were already seated in the back, while Jane and my mother were handed up. He held my elbow, while I took the first step. Our eyes met, while his hand shifted, the fingers grazing each of mine briefly. The contact left me trembling peculiarly and I yearned for more. Once I was seated, father called to the horse, the animal moving forward, while the wheels began to turn. It was unfortunate that Pastor Bailey would not be joining us at my sister’s house. The disappointment I felt was acute, and I had to wonder what business kept him in town, or if he had just declined out of politeness or perhaps shyness.
“We mustn’t forget to stop by his residence,” said Jane.
I glanced at father. “I’ll show you where he lives.”
“Where who lives?”
“Pastor Bailey. Jane wants to borrow a few books.”
“I think I can manage that.”
The building in question was located near the bank. The two-story structure was built of wood, the lower level was a bakery, and the aroma of freshly baked bread lingered around us. Jane and I entered, finding several people inside. The children had stayed with Pastor Bailey for several weeks, while their uncle had traveled to Fort Laramie to marry me. Jane knew which doors to take, a set of stairs leading to the second floor. She stopped before a door knocking, waiting for the housekeeper to let us in.
