Still House Pond

by Jan Watson

  Molly tucked her head in the curve of Cara’s shoulder.

  Cara flashed Copper a grin. “She’s making you pay.”

  “What will I do with this red ribbon?” Copper asked.

  “I’ll take it,” Cara said. “I’d like to look like a pretty redbird like Merky and Mazy.”

  Molly’s thumb popped out and her head popped up. “No, mine.”

  Cara deposited her in Copper’s lap.

  “Who’s my baby girl?” Copper asked, wielding the brush.

  “My a baby bird.”

  “Then I’m a mama bird.” She nuzzled Molly’s neck. It smelled like talcum powder.

  Merky opened the screen door. “Come out, Molly. Come on, Jack. We’re playing nest.”

  Cara filled four small bowls with oatmeal. She stirred in cream and a bit of brown sugar. “I’m feeding the birds on the porch. There won’t be so much to clean up.”

  Copper smiled. No wonder the kids loved Cara.

  She saw John coming across the yard. He and Dimmert had left early to continue the search while she was doing the milking. She didn’t know if he’d slept at all last night. She had rested some on the cot in the sickroom. Her body was so relieved to be home that it had forced her into sleep.

  She put some bacon in the skillet and took a pan of biscuits from the oven.

  John burst in, and the screen door slammed behind him. “We found something.”

  With a fork, she turned the bacon over, even though it hadn’t started to brown. Wiping her hands on her apron, she turned. “What?”

  He held Lilly’s hat in his hands. “Is this hers?”

  Copper’s breath caught in her throat. She was afraid she’d have another spell like the one she had at the train station. She nodded as she took the straw skimmer with the blue and brown bias trim from him. “Where did you find it?”

  “Dimmert spotted it. We were riding on the road up past the churchyard. It was lying in a patch of weeds.”

  The bacon sizzled on the stove. “Was there anything else?”

  “I don’t know. Dimmert’s still there. I’m going right back, but I thought seeing this would make you feel better.”

  “Better? Why would seeing this make me feel better?” She jerked the hat away from him. The crown was smashed flat. The ribbon trim was torn and dirty. Something had gnawed on the brim. Her voice rose in anguish. “This is not my daughter! You ran home with this when you could have stayed and looked for her.”

  “Copper, don’t you see this is a good sign?” he placated while trying to take her in his arms.

  The bacon smoked in the skillet. The screen door cracked open. Cara slipped in. Averting her eyes, she took the skillet off the burner. They could see her hustling the children off the porch. The girls had oatmeal faces, and Jack had his bandanna over his nose.

  “Let’s go to the creek and play,” Cara said. “Won’t that be fun?”

  Copper tried to get ahold of her emotions.

  “Sweetheart,” John said, “I wish you wouldn’t take on so.”

  She clutched the battered hat to her heart and wailed. Her cries seemed to come from her seared innermost being. Was this how it felt when you lost your mind?

  John came up behind her and wrapped her in a bear hug. “Stop. Stop this.”

  It was as if he had punctured her. The feelings flowed out like water circling a drain, leaving her cold and empty. She struggled to keep from screaming.

  He sat her down and stood over her with a glass of water. “You’ll drink this now. Slow and easy.”

  She did as she was told.

  John poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled a chair up in front of her. He put his hand on her knee. “Don’t you see what this hat means? She’s out there. If she lost her hat, it means she was walking up the road past the church for some reason. I think she missed the coach and was going to see if Kate and her mother missed it also—maybe she thought it didn’t come. Maybe she thought the time was wrong, or maybe she thought they’d catch it later.”

  She didn’t answer, but as she listened, a little spark of hope ignited.

  “I know in my gut Lilly is all right. I don’t know why she’s missing, but she’ll be back.” He patted her knee, then rose and pushed in his chair. “Men are gathering at the churchyard to help. We’ll find her. Don’t you worry.”

  She felt like her bones had dissolved. But she went to the stove and split the biscuits, laying a blackened piece of bacon between each one. She tied them up in a cloth for John to take with him. It was better than nothing. “You and Dimmert need to eat.”

  She had some time for prayer before the children came back. And she badly needed it. She had once again allowed her fear to replace her faith. A bit of Scripture came to her: “O ye of little faith.” She walked around her kitchen, touching things and talking to the Lord. She felt as if she were in the shadow of His wings. It was a sure and steady comfort.

  On a peg behind the door, where they kept outdoor jackets and indoor sweaters and aprons and bonnets, she found a length of Lilly’s white ribbon. Protect Lilly, Lord, she prayed while running the grosgrain through her fingers. I know she’s Your child before she’s mine, but I beg of You, please let me keep her for a while. And please let me mean it when I say, “Your will be done.” I know I’m not much of an example to others right now, and I’m sorry.

  When she finished, she felt calmer and for the moment stronger. God understood her mother’s heart. He would forgive her momentary lapses; she was sure of it. She’d often felt that a mother’s fierce and all-forgiving love was the closest thing on earth to the heavenly Father’s love.

  She poured a glass of milk fresh from the cow and began to sip it slowly. Cupping her belly with one hand, she made a promise. “I’ll start taking better care of you, my little one, my tiny, secret baby. I’ve been selfish and I know it, but I’m better now.” She would have to tell John soon. He wouldn’t be happy about being kept in the dark.

  She stepped out on the porch and gathered the children’s dishes. The remains of oatmeal had stuck like glue. She wondered if Remy had eaten before she went to the little house. Copper had insisted she go for a lie-down even if she felt she couldn’t sleep. Remy looked so exhausted and she wasn’t strong to start with.

  Back in the kitchen she put the dishes to soak before scraping the last of the oatmeal from the pot and stirring in some cream. She’d leave it on the warming shelf, covered with a linen towel, for Remy.

  For now she should walk down to the creek and relieve Cara, who probably needed to go home for a while. She had her own house to tend to. She’d just started across the yard when she saw a horse and buggy. The man from the telegraph office was bringing someone with him. She shaded her eyes. It was Manda.

  She went out to meet the buggy and thanked the man.

  “You’re ever so welcome,” he said. “Miss Whitt here said she read about the wreck in the paper. She traveled purt near all night. I hope you don’t mind, but I told her about your daughter. Say, I hear there’s a search party out looking. I’d be much obliged if you all would let me help.”

  Amazed at how fast news of all types traveled, Copper thanked him again for his help and for bringing Manda home. She told him where to leave the horse until he came back and showed him the stall where his own was stabled.

  Manda hung around outside. She hadn’t said a word, and she didn’t come in the barn. She seemed unusually reticent.

  Coming up from the creek, the children swarmed around Manda like busy bees. Cara had washed their faces and hands in the creek. Manda greeted them shyly with few words. Copper supposed she was too hurt about Lilly to know what to say.

  As outspoken as ever, Jack looked up at her and said, “What happened to your face?”

  Manda touched her cheek. “I fell against the rail the other morning while I was slopping the hog.”

  Copper and Cara exchanged looks.

  “I was wondering, Copper. Would you mind if I take all the kids to
my house for the rest of the day? We’ve been wanting to have a tea party.”

  Copper hugged her neck. “Thank you, dear friend,” she whispered in Cara’s ear.

  Cara hugged her back. “You stay strong.”

  “You mean me too?” Jack asked. “I get to have a tea party?”

  Cara herded the children like so many sheep toward the long path that led to her house. “Of course. I’ve heard Jesse James loved tea.”

  33

  The teasing sounds of children arguing woke Lilly early in the morning. Before she opened her eyes, she thought she was at home. She lay on the scratchy pallet for the longest time pretending she heard Mama going to milk and Manda opening the oven door. She sniffed, sure she could smell rich coffee brewing and remembered her first cup the morning she went along to the stable. She wondered how the cats were and if they missed her.

  She swallowed. Her throat was as prickly as the pallet of woolen clothing, and she felt chilled. “I don’t feel so good,” she said, waiting for Mama’s cool hand on her forehead. The prickly didn’t go away, however, and neither did the chill of her skin or the children’s strident voices.

  She heard the door screech on its hinges as it opened and closed, but she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to play this game anymore. For the moment she wasn’t sure if last evening was a dream, watching the Stills gather their things in the buckboard, or maybe this was the dream.

  “I want to go home,” she said.

  The dog rattled her water dish on the floor.

  Opening one eye, Lilly looked at the dish. Empty. Regardless of how she felt, she had to get up. She emptied yesterday’s water jug into Steady’s bowl, then went to the door to retrieve another and a small bag that held a few pieces of ham, some corn bread, and an apple. She carried them back to the bed and gave a piece of ham and a wedge of bread to Steady. This was becoming a routine.

  “I sure would like a bath,” she said. She washed her hands before eating half the apple. It didn’t feel good going down, but it looked better than the salty ham or the dry bread. “I forgot to say grace.” She bowed her head. “Thank You, Father, for my daily corn bread. Steady thanks You more than me. Amen.”

  She climbed on the boxes to look out. Forevermore, the Stills were back. There went her plans for escape. She counted heads and saw everyone but Mr. Still and Tern. The old lady sat on the stoop with the baby. The boys ran wild in the yard. She couldn’t imagine what had happened.

  Getting off the boxes, she went back to her bed and lay down. She was through with this day already.

  * * *

  Midmorning, Copper sat across from Manda at the kitchen table.

  Manda fidgeted with her bonnet but didn’t take it off. “I don’t understand why they’re looking for Lilly here. I thought she was on the train.”

  “We did too.” Copper took Manda’s hand. “Did you see Lilly get on the coach? Mrs. Jasper said Lilly didn’t.”

  Remy huffed in. She had a small bundle under her arm. She looked at Manda sharply before she poured a cup of coffee and pulled out a chair.

  “Maybe Lilly got on the wrong coach.”

  “There’s only one. You know that,” Copper said.

  Sweat beaded around Manda’s hairline. “I swear I thought I saw her.”

  “What do you mean you thought you saw her? Didn’t you wait with her like we planned?” Copper asked.

  “I was meaning to. Really I was. Lilly was sitting right there on the porch. I told her to wait while I went to slop the hog. But I slipped in some greasy mud and hit my head on the top rail of the pigpen. It knocked me out, and when I woke up, Lilly was gone. I ran to the stop and saw the coach leave. Where else would Lilly be?”

  “Why’d you leave out of here, girl?” Remy asked.

  Manda chewed on the end of her bonnet strings and mumbled. “I wanted to see my sister.”

  “Take that there bonnet off,” Remy said, “afore ye sweat to death.”

  She slid it off. The light was not kind to her bruised cheekbones, badly swollen eye, and puffy lip.

  “Mighty funny way to knock yourself out,” Remy said. “Looks like somebody backhanded ye. Fess up, girl.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “If the shoe fits,” Remy said.

  Copper didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. What in the world was Remy getting at? “Manda, you’re not being accused of anything. We just need to know the full truth. Anything you can think of to help us trace Lilly’s steps that day. Even if you don’t think it has anything to do with Lilly, it could make all the difference.”

  “Seems odder than a two-headed cat that you’d run off to your sister’s with your face all busted up.” Remy peered at Manda over the rim of her saucer as she slurped sweetened coffee.

  Manda’s gaze darted around the room like she was looking for an escape. “I didn’t notice, really. It just seemed the perfect opportunity. Everyone was gone, and I thought I’d—”

  “Yup. We’ve got it. You’d just run off to have a little sisterly visit with Darcy Mae.”

  Copper nudged Remy under the table. Forevermore, she sounded like a lawman. Ease up, her foot against Remy’s leg relayed.

  “That’s not a crime as far as I know,” Manda said. “Miz Copper, I’m truly sorry about Lilly. That’s why I come back, because I had to know how she is, but I’m not staying any longer than you need me to. I’ll help out any way I can for the time being, though.”

  “Well, I appreciate that.” Copper stood, tipped Manda’s chin, and retracted her eyelid. “Tell me about this eye. Is it getting better or worse?”

  “Worse. I can barely see out of it, and it’s sore to touch.”

  “You should go lie down. I’ll make a bread poultice to draw out the soreness.”

  Remy’s chair creaked when she reached behind her for her crutch. “Poultice my eye,” she said, withdrawing something from a pillowcase and shaking it out.

  What now? Copper thought. I’m too weary for this.

  Manda blanched. “Where’d you get that?”

  “From under the corn-shuck mattress where you left it. Funny, it ain’t got a drop of pig slop on it. But it’s tore at the waist and there’s a splatter of blood. Yourn, I reckon.”

  The blood rushed from Copper’s head. The air in the room grew dense and dark. Something ugly was coming.

  With a shout, Manda started banging her forehead against the table like she was trying to dislodge a bad memory.

  Remy slipped her hand between the table and Manda’s forehead. “Ye ain’t going to feel any better until you tell us what happened that morning. Truth’s the only poultice that will draw out whatever pizen’s in you.”

  Manda jumped up from the chair. Remy hopped backward, dropping her crutch, nearly falling. Copper caught her and retrieved the crutch. She and Remy watched in horror as Manda tugged on her hair.

  “It was that middling man,” she screeched. “That middling-fiddling music man.”

  Copper grabbed her hands. “What are you talking about? What man?”

  Manda sank to the floor. “He attacked me in the barn. He pushed me up against the feed box. He tore my dress and slapped me hard.” Her voice was distant like she was telling a dream.

  Oh, Lord, please no. “Manda,” Copper pleaded, kneeling with that searing pain in her heart again. “Did this man hurt Lilly? Did he carry her off? Please tell me what you know.”

  Manda looked at Copper. “No, he didn’t hurt Lilly. He never touched her.”

  Copper wasn’t sure whether Manda was telling the truth. The girl was traumatized; that was easy to tell. With great gentleness she slipped her arms around Manda and rocked her like she would Lilly if she ever got the chance again. “How do you know? How do you know he didn’t hurt Lilly?”

  “Because Lilly was on the porch when I went in the barn with him, and she was already gone when I came out.”

  A great distress rose in Copper’s chest. Of all the things she h
ad supposed might have happened to her daughter, she’d never thought of this. “But don’t you see? He could have come back or he might have lain in wait for her. When you ran to the crossroads, he could have taken her then.”

  “No, he couldn’t,” Manda said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I stabbed him,” Manda said, emotionless. “I stabbed him with the pitchfork.”

  “Oh, my word. Did you . . . ? Is he . . . ?”

  “No, but I wish he was dead.” Manda’s head nodded in a tremor she couldn’t seem to stop. “I do. I wish I’d stabbed him through the heart.”

  “Shh, shh, shh,” Copper soothed as she rocked. An ugly question had to be asked if she was to help Manda. “Honey,” she whispered, “are you intact?”

  Manda leaned her head against Copper’s chest. “Everything’s the same but my heart.”

  * * *

  Nobody came to open the door to the shack. It was good the day was overcast and not too warm. Lilly couldn’t stand herself any longer, so she poured half the remaining water in the washbasin and bathed with Colgate’s tooth powder. She was squeaky clean. She wished she had a second dress, but as Aunt Remy said, “If wishes were horses, then peasants would ride,” or something to that effect. She changed her underclothes and her hose. Her knees were much better. She was careful not to pull the scabs off. She surely didn’t want scars on her knees to match the one on her arm.

  Thinking of scars made her think of the milkmaid poem and her decision to someday become a doctor. She wasn’t entirely sure how to go about that, but she was sure it took a lot of knowledge. Aunt Alice had all Daddy Simon’s medical books in her library. She also had all Lilly’s grandfather’s medical books. Until right this minute, she had forgotten that her grandfather was also a doctor. Hmmm, maybe it was supposed to be. Maybe this was why God let her be cast into this awful place—so she could figure that out. One thing was a given: God always had His reasons. Just look at those three pulse-eating fellows who were tossed into the fiery furnace. If you thought about them, then this wasn’t so bad. Plus, she saved Steady and her baby. Sort of saved them anyway. They weren’t home free yet.