Still House Pond

by Jan Watson

  When night fell, lanterns were lit along the walls of the depot. Copper met other women in white and a doctor from the city. She flushed cinders from eyes, bandaged wounds, helped the doctor cast a leg broken at the fibula with woven lint and plaster of Paris, sent for Billy so they could do the same for his arm, and reassured a pregnant mother of three that her unborn baby was in no imminent danger. All the while she worked, she questioned to no avail.

  “No,” everyone replied with pity in their eyes, “I can’t recall seeing anyone who looks like that.”

  Around midnight Sheriff Tate brought her a cup of just-brewed coffee. She wrapped her hands around the hot mug and walked with him back to the edge of the ravine. She could hear an occasional shout and see the wavering lights of torches and lanterns far below.

  “We’re pulling the men off until first light,” he said. “You can understand. Even with extra lanterns they can’t see what they’re doing. One slip and they could be under tons of steel. We can’t chance them getting hurt or worse.”

  Copper nodded. Hopeless tears spilled unchecked from her eyes.

  “They’ll bed down in the cars still standing down the track, catch a break, and eat something hot. You wouldn’t believe the food. Seems like every church up and down the tracks has sent something.”

  “People are good,” Copper said, remembering the scene she’d left in her own yard. Was that just hours ago? It felt like years. It felt like this place was the only place that had ever been. “If you see my husband, would you tell him I’m in the depot?”

  “I will,” the sheriff said, “and I’ll bring you a plate. If you don’t eat, you’ll be dead on your feet.”

  I already am, Copper thought.

  26

  Manda was weary of listening to her sister. Darcy hadn’t stopped nattering at her since she showed up on her doorstep early this morning. She hadn’t been sure what to expect—maybe a sisterly hug, maybe some care and concern? maybe fewer questions?

  She had barely had time to take her bonnet off, to the tune of Darcy’s sharp intake of breath, when the nanny/maid showed up. Darcy tucked her son into a stroller and sent them off to the park. Manda supposed she was embarrassed to have the boy’s sitter seeing her battered face. As soon as the squeaky-wheeled stroller rolled out the door, the interrogation began and soon had Manda crying buckets.

  “How could you be so stupid? Don’t you know those fiddle-playing bums drift from town to town preying on pretty girls? And your running away? Don’t you know that just raises suspicion?”

  Well, no, Manda didn’t have a clue. How could she? And what made Darcy so high-and-mighty? Her husband was in prison, after all. But Manda knew the difference. Darcy could take care of herself and even her little boy while Manda was at the mercy of anybody who would take her in. Her sobs changed to moans.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Manda knotted and unknotted a clean hankie. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t face anyone knowing what happened in that barn. All I could think of was getting to you.”

  Darcy sat down beside Manda on the fancy horsehair love seat in her parlor. She put a strong arm around Manda’s shaking shoulders. Taking the hankie, she patted Manda’s cheeks, then handed it back. “Blow your nose.”

  Manda settled her head on Darcy’s shoulder. It felt so good to be in her sister’s embrace. She couldn’t help but think of all the times when they were kids and Darcy, being the older sister, would come to her defense. “Remember when I was sick that time and you fed me scrambled eggs? I didn’t even know a person could scramble eggs. They were so good.”

  “You were seven and I was not much older. You had the red measles, and Mommy was afraid you’d go blind. Remember how she made you keep that cloth over your face so you’d be in the dark?”

  “I’d forgot about the rag. Mostly I remember you taking care of me.”

  “I guess we children took care of each other. The eggs were scrambled because I didn’t know you had to grease the skillet before you broke the eggs in. I was so embarrassed.”

  “Is that a true story?”

  “True as true love.”

  “Don’t call me stupid again, but I thought I loved that music man. I even thought he truly loved me back.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid, and I’m sorry I called you names. I’m just hopping mad is all. I’d like to go after him with a pair of pinking shears.” Darcy rose from the love seat and went to the shaded window where a fern the size of a bushel basket sat in the muted light. She turned the fern on the plant stand and plucked brown leaves from among the lush green fronds.

  Darcy had picked up a few pounds, and they looked good on her. Manda thought she was beautiful standing there in a rose-colored dress, her hair caught up with mother-of-pearl combs. She must have just dressed for work when Manda barged in.

  “I know all about true love,” she said with a strange, sad smile.

  Manda stayed on the settee, exhausted. She’d traveled all night to get here. “I guess I just remind you of your own sorrow.”

  “You? No, don’t even think that. Every time I look at our son’s face, I’m reminded that my husband is serving time for harming Ace.” She went back and knelt at Manda’s feet, looking up at her. “Henry Jr. looks just like him. My heart gladdens every time he smiles. Sometimes at night, I take a lamp and go to his room and stare down in his crib just to see him in sleep. He’s the closest thing I have to Henry, and I cherish him.”

  Her words made Manda feel small. “I almost threw myself away. I almost let my foolish heart destroy my honor.”

  “Oh, honey,” Darcy said, “you’re just young. I’m going to draw you a nice hot bath. I had an honest-to-goodness bathtub installed in the lavatory since you were here last. You’re going to love it.”

  Manda soaked for an hour after Darcy left for the dress shop. Every time the water cooled, she turned the faucet on and let wonderful hot water flow. She scrubbed and scrubbed and washed her hair before she began to feel clean again.

  Darcy had said to make herself at home, so Manda slipped on the soft blue robe she found hanging from a hook on the back of the lavatory door and sat down to play with the creams and potions in the sparkly glass pots on Darcy’s dressing table. With a puff she powdered her cheeks and around her blackened eyes. She looked like a raccoon. Sighing, she wiped the powder off.

  She could hear Henry Jr. racing around downstairs and the nanny’s quiet voice keeping him in line. Would she ever have what Darcy had? Her heart yearned to have such assurance as her sister possessed.

  There was a light tap on the door. “Miss Whitt,” the sitter said, “I’ve left a lunch tray for you in the guest room. Mrs. Thomas thought you’d like a nap afterward. Should I turn down the bedclothes?”

  Manda’s head throbbed. She should never have looked in the mirror. “No, thank you anyway.”

  The stairs creaked under the sitter’s steps.

  Manda made her way to the pretty bedroom. Every single thing in Darcy’s house was pretty—even Darcy. An invalid tray holding a bowl of soup, some crackers, a cup of strawberries, and a glass of lemonade sat waiting in the middle of the bed.

  The window was half-raised. Filmy white curtains blew out on a breeze. Manda removed the tray and placed it on the seat of a chair. The bed seemed so inviting. Without removing the counterpane, she lay down and gave herself to healing sleep.

  Later, after Darcy came home from work, they ate side by side in the dining “nook” as her sister called the smallish area off the kitchen. The nanny/maid had prepared a simple supper of fruit and cheese before she left for the night. It was perfect for Manda’s touchy stomach.

  Henry Jr. smeared applesauce on the tray of his high chair. Though not much younger than Mazy and Molly, he seemed much more immature. He was a charming child with Darcy’s quick smile and Henry’s dark good looks.

  Manda washed the few dishes while Darcy put her son to bed. “Give Aunt Manda some sugar,” she said befo
re she carried him upstairs.

  Henry Jr. smacked his lips against her cheek. What a doll baby.

  Standing at the sink, she could look out over her sister’s yard. Across the back was a whitewashed fence where red roses climbed a trellis and lilies bent their heads under the weight of profuse orange blooms.

  Back in the kitchen, Darcy picked up a towel and began drying the knives, forks, and spoons.

  “Don’t you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven when you look out there?” Manda asked. “It’s just so peaceful.”

  Darcy held a fork up to the light, then dropped it back into the soapy water under Manda’s dishrag. Manda washed it again, dipped it in the rinse pan, and laid it in the wooden drainer.

  “I’ve found I’m more content if my house is in order and if I have nice things around me. Remember how we used to not even have a place to hang our clothes?”

  “What clothes?”

  “You’ve got a point,” Darcy said, holding the twice-washed fork up to the window before polishing it vigorously. She opened a drawer in the cabinet beside the sink and arranged the utensils in a caddy. Each type had a separate compartment.

  “How clever,” Manda said. “I’ve never seen such a thing. Miz Copper keeps hers in the pantry in a stoneware crock, and Cara’s sit in the middle of the kitchen table with the handles sticking up out of a fruit jar.”

  “Bet you don’t remember where Mommy kept hers.”

  “We had utensils?”

  Darcy chuckled. “It wasn’t that bad. We didn’t eat our food with our hands.”

  “We had food?”

  Darcy snapped Manda’s arm with the dish towel. “You don’t recall possum stew.”

  Manda pretended to gag. “You’ve come a long way, Sister. I’m proud of you.”

  “So have you, if you’d give yourself some credit.”

  Manda lifted the dishpan. “Do you want me to scrub the front stoop with this water?”

  Darcy tilted the pan. The sudsy water swirled down the drain.

  “That seems wasteful,” Manda said.

  With a twist of her wrist, clean water gushed from a faucet over the sink. “We have plenty. Plus, I have a woman who cleans once a week and also does the laundry.”

  “At the Pelfreys’, that woman is me.”

  “I used to do the same. I never minded the work, and Miz Copper was so good to me.”

  Manda felt a pang of guilt. She’d left the Pelfreys in the lurch. She knew they’d think she’d run off on a lark. And Miz Copper would be disappointed in her, maybe even mad, if she found out Lilly had walked herself to the coach. Manda hadn’t even told Darcy that part of the story. Lilly was a friend, though; she wouldn’t tell on Manda. And really, it wasn’t such a terrible thing to have happened. She was the only one hurt.

  “Let’s go sit outside and catch the breeze,” Darcy said.

  They went out back. Darcy had a nice brick-paved sitting area protected from the weather by a green- and white-striped awning. Clay pots filled with red geraniums sat along the edges. Her porch furniture was painted white. Comfy pillows in the same material as the awning decorated the chairs.

  Manda took a seat, sinking into the cushion.

  Darcy propped the door so she could hear Henry Jr. if he needed her. “Ah,” she said when she plopped down. “It feels good to get off my feet.”

  “I wish I could visit your shop,” Manda said.

  “Come with me in the morning.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to be seen with me this way,” Manda said, ducking her head. “I know I look a mess.”

  “Gracious, it’s not as if you’d stop traffic. Besides, why should I care what someone else says?”

  “I’m not as brave as you. I care a lot if folks talk about me.”

  “That’s because you live in a small place where any news is big news. Here in the city people might talk for a bit; then they’ll be on to something else. Believe me, I know.” Darcy leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on a footrest. “So did you recall where Mommy kept the knives and forks?”

  “We had that old dresser with the little drawers on either side of the mirror. She kept what few we had in one of those drawers.”

  “Remember it always stuck when it rained? Mommy would take the nub of a candle and run wax along the bottom.”

  “Poor Mommy,” Manda said.

  “She did the best she could,” Darcy responded. As if no other words were needed.

  Manda cast a sidelong look at her sister. What she was about to ask would change both their lives, and she wasn’t sure what Darcy’s response would be. Her stomach felt nervous. Maybe she should wait—or maybe she should pray about it. That would be selfish, though. God was way too busy for stupid girls like her.

  “So,” Darcy said, “what are your plans?”

  “I told the Pelfreys I’d be back in a few days. I guess that’s what I’ll do—go back and work, try to save some money so I can strike out on my own,” Manda said, while hoping her sister would come up with a different solution.

  “What about that Gurney fellow, the one you wrote me about?”

  “He’s not the one. If I’d truly cared about him, I wouldn’t have got messed up with that scoundrel.” Manda traced the healing cut on her lip with one finger. “I’m swearing off men for good.”

  “It seems like us Whitt girls like a man who’s trouble,” Darcy said. “You with that man, me with Henry, and Dance with poor old Ace.”

  “I believe Ace got the trouble there,” Manda said, a giggle bubbling up.

  “Ha! You might be right,” Darcy said. “You know, I never thought of it before, but out of all us girls, Dance is the one most like Mommy.”

  “That’s probably why our father was always on the road.”

  “Mommy did—”

  “—the best she could,” Manda finished her sister’s sentence. “You always say that. It seems like you don’t care about all the heartache we went through as kids.”

  Darcy reached over and took Manda’s hand. “You need to let Mommy’s failures go. Eventually you have to grow up—accept the way things were and the way things are. If you spend your life blaming her, the past will always haunt you.”

  Manda sniffed back a tear. “How did you get so smart?”

  “When something untoward happens to me, I ask God what the lesson is—what it is He wants me to learn. That keeps me from worrying overmuch. The Bible says God chastens those He loves. It keeps us on the straight and narrow.”

  “What do you reckon my lesson is?”

  “I don’t know. That’s for you to figure out. I do know that you have to pray and listen for His answer with an open heart and an open mind.” Darcy stood and fluffed the pillow in her chair. “Why don’t you think about staying here with me and Henry Jr. for a while? I’ve plenty of room and I could use your help at the shop.”

  Manda’s heart flipped. She couldn’t believe her ears. God had answered her prayer, and she hadn’t even been on her knees. Maybe He did care about her. “But what about the Pelfreys?”

  “You can write to them and explain that I’ve offered you a job. You know Miz Copper’ll want whatever’s best for you. She won’t have any trouble getting another hired girl.”

  Manda went to bed with a light heart. Everything was working in her favor. Darcy’s offer was the answer to everything. No one need ever know what went on in that barn. It could be as if it never happened. Regardless of what Darcy said, some lessons were best left unlearned.

  27

  Copper forced herself to eat a bite of breakfast though it tasted like sawdust and tightened her throat. She wouldn’t be any good to anyone if she keeled over, but it seemed impossible to swallow. She and John sat under the tree where Billy had lain. All of the victims she and the others had cared for yesterday had been transported to the city for further care if needed or to catch another train if not. Now the depot was ready for whomever the men brought up today. Copper feared it would be li
ttle more than a morgue after all this time. A day and a half had passed since the accident. How long could anyone live under all that rubble?

  She handed her sausage biscuit to John.

  “Copper, you have to eat.”

  “I’m all right. You’re the one who’s doing the heavy lifting.”

  John washed his breakfast down with coffee. “I just knew I’d find her last night. When it got too dark to fell trees, I went to the site and searched until the section foreman made me leave.”

  “I know,” she said wearily. “You told me.”

  John tossed half her biscuit to the birds. A blackbird cawed and swooped down, snatching up a bit of bread. “I’ve got the funniest feeling, like Lilly’s not here, like this is all in vain.”

  Copper didn’t know how he was able to feel anything. Her brain was dead, and her heart was dying. Once she’d helped put the last of the injured on the rescue train bound for Lexington, way after midnight, she’d given in to his demands that they try to catch some sleep. She had wanted to set vigil over the ravine. They’d borrowed blankets from the supplies and come up here under the tree to rest. He was snoring before she had even wrapped up in the scratchy woolen Army blanket. Thoughts of Lilly dead or dying kept her tossing and turning most of the night.

  At daybreak, a woman had come around passing out sausage and biscuits and cups of coffee. She looked like a farmwife. The skin around her eyes had deep crinkles from the sun, and the hands that offered food were spotted and worn. They told of years of service. Her dress was homespun and her apron a popular feed-sack print. Copper had one just like it.

  “Thank you,” Copper had said when the woman poured coffee from a granite pot into cups she carried on a tray. “This is so kind of you.”

  “My church wanted to do some working prayer,” she’d said. “This is a terrible thing. Terrible.”

  Now finished with his respite, John was tying his bootlaces and getting ready to go back into the fray. He tested his theories. “Maybe she was dazed by the accident. Maybe she hit her head and wandered off to a farmhouse or something.”