“Oh.” Oh. Briar’s face grew hot. That was a clumsy compliment. Her mam’s saying came to mind: where the tongue slips it speaks the truth.
He produced a flower and handed it to her. When she didn’t immediately reach for it, he plucked off the bloom and tucked it into her hair above her ear. His finger traced the line of her cheek and, for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. She turned her head away. He took a step back and crooked out his arm for her to hold.
Instead of taking his arm, she took over pushing the bicycle.
“How is your family?” he asked, letting his arm drop to his side.
“The boys are causing trouble as usual, and Pansy is ever the little mother over them, and Nanny has gone—”
“That’s great! I forgot to add that Mr. Smith must have told Mr. Albans, because then he stopped by my area and congratulated me on the move to Burlington. I leave Monday after next. They’ve also been impressed with you lately. We could both be moving to Burlington and then, who knows?” Then he smiled the smile that used to make her weak in the knees. But not this time.
She tried to smile but suspected it came out like a smirk. He was leaving on her birthday, and he didn’t even realize it. The date held such importance for Briar, since she was afraid she’d have to give up the children then, and here he was, so nonchalant. Did he even see her? Know who she was? Had he forgotten everything that was important to her?
They walked like this the whole way to the cottage, Wheeler trying to impress her with his accomplishments, and Briar trying to convince herself that she’d finally achieved what she wanted. Her plans were back on track. She should be pleased.
Presently, Wheeler picked up a stone so he could demonstrate the accuracy of his throwing arm. Apparently, he’d been practicing throwing at targets. They stopped in front of the little lane next to her house and he said, “Look, I’ll aim for that pot.”
“No! That’s my—” Too late. Smash. Pieces of the pot thumped to the dirt. The geranium landed upside down with snapped flower heads and crushed petals. She took in a deep breath.
Oblivious to Briar’s distress, Wheeler hooted his victory.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she said stiffly. “But…but you should go back to town. We can’t pick up where you left me. I’m not there anymore. I’ve changed.” Even if it means working every job I can find and begging help from all my friends and acquaintances, I’ll find another way to keep the children.
He looked startled, then smiled. “Till Monday,” he said with a wink before turning around and strutting back toward town.
“No, Wheeler,” she called out. Find your voice. “I’m staying here. You’re moving to Burlington on your own.”
He turned, cocked his head. Then shrugged. “Okay. See you, Briar.”
Briar slowly shook her head as she watched Wheeler walk away. She used to love watching him walk down her lane, knowing he wouldn’t get back till dark but knowing he made the sacrifice for her, for them. She sighed. Well, that was it, then. It was over. She wanted it to be over.
“Who was that?” asked Fanny, joining her on the road and craning her neck to see Wheeler’s lanky frame headed back into town.
“Someone I thought I needed.”
Briar turned around and joined her family feeling lighter than she had in a long time. Despite everything else being the same, she wasn’t. All the meetings Ethel had brought her to had given her hope that she didn’t have to settle. What she thought was a “this or that” decision had opened up to a third path, and that was a powerful realization. It wasn’t marry Wheeler or lose the children. She could use her God-given tools to find another way. It may not be as neat and tidy and it may involve charity from others, but she wasn’t feeling trapped anymore.
While she was wrestling with these thoughts, Briar went through the motions of listening to the children’s adventures with their ever-growing menagerie. They had added a squirrel that Pansy had been coaxing into the garden with hazelnuts. Her face shone as she talked about his quick little movements. Watching Pansy blossom and enjoy her childhood helped bolster Briar’s determination. She had to keep working hard for these little ones.
After the children were tucked into bed, Fanny handed Briar a cup of tea and motioned for them to sit outside on the stoop. The fireflies had begun to flit around in the woods and Briar remembered how she used to pretend they were fairies playing a game of tag or hide-and-seek with one another. She stole a glance at Fanny. Now she knew how far off those fantasies of tiny, carefree fairies were.
She sipped her tea, determined to enjoy her personal victory before she had to work on her most pressing problems again. The children. The spindle. Both needed protecting and she didn’t know how to do either, yet. If Wheeler was a weight lifted off her shoulders, these other concerns were weights tied to each leg, dragging behind her, getting heavier with each step.
She’d have to temporarily lay aside her promise to her mam to one day set her feet on Irish soil. That was too big a promise and had the potential to get in the way of decisions she was making now. It had made Wheeler seem so perfect for her and made her blind to other options.
“The boys have probably captured every single one of those beetles at some point this week,” Fanny said, breaking the silence. “They capture them in a canning jar and set them by their bed for a night-light. By morning they’ve all escaped, and the boys are convinced the fireflies team up together to unscrew the cap on the jar when they’re sleeping. Every night they try to stay awake to catch them at work.” Fanny laughed, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Oh, I’m going to miss them when I leave. I never knew little boys could be so much fun.”
“They are dears, aren’t they?” Briar mused. Fanny was so good with them. She would make a lovely nanny.
“Do you have to leave us? Is there some fairy business that you have to go back to or can you stay? The children love you, I can tell, and it would only need to be until I get settled myself.”
Briar held her breath, hoping. Praying. She should have thought of it sooner. Nanny always seemed to be acting out of duty, and now Briar understood why. But Fanny? She was acting out of love. Briar was certain of it.
Fanny was quiet. Finally, she said, “I don’t make the decisions. This was the first time I’ve been allowed to live with people since, well, since Aurora. I’m not very good about hiding who I am. They like me to stay tucked away.”
“Would we have to convince Prudence? It would be perfect…unless you don’t want to?”
“How were your spindles this week?” asked Fanny, changing the subject.
By now, Briar knew not to push Fanny, but at least a seed was planted. “Great! I’m running more frames than ever before. Maybe we won’t have to take out the spindle.”
Fanny shot her a look of warning. “Don’t let your guard down. I’m still working on how to remove it. You can’t keep it.”
“All the operatives are staying at their own frames. You might be worried for nothing.”
“But girls are still getting sick?”
“A few. But I think it must be the polio after all.”
Fanny pursed her lips. “Describe their symptoms again.”
“They complain of different things: headache, fever, double vision, aching and weak muscles in their legs.”
“I don’t know. It’s suspicious that at your mill it’s only the girls on the spinning floor.”
“Yes, but they’re not falling asleep.”
“We watch and wait, then.” Fanny went around the dying petals scattered at the threshold and began to rejuvenate them. “And as a precaution, let’s send you back with some old remedies for your sick friends.” She picked up one of the briar rose petals and rubbed it between her two fingers. “The tinctures won’t hurt anyone, but if the spindle is the cause, they will help heal.”
Chapter 32
Fanny and Mrs. Prince teamed up to put together a basket of home remedies for Briar to bring to those w
ho had fallen ill.
“This one is a special liniment made with Solomon’s Seal to rub into their feet and legs,” Fanny said, holding up a jar. “The root does wonders for lungs and bruises and sore limbs. And give them this rose hip tea to start working on their insides.”
The mention of Solomon’s Seal reminded Briar of Henry. No one had gotten word from him since that first round of letters. She hoped he was okay. There had been no reports of shipwreck, so if he was on that boat then he’d made it across. But that was no guarantee he’d made it all the way to Germany.
“Do you know George from the machine shop at the mill?” Mrs. Prince asked. “Tall, good-natured fellow?”
Briar nodded, thinking back to the night they played Crossed and Uncrossed in the parlor. “We’ve met.”
“Send him back with a message if more girls fall ill and you need additional supplies. He’s been filling in for Henry, running errands for us. He’ll let us know and we’ll bring more remedies. It’s no trouble at all.”
“Do you think more will get sick?” asked Briar. She’d never lived through an epidemic but had heard plenty of stories from the elders in the community. Mention the words potato blight and you’d hear all you ever wanted to about starvation and typhoid and death, and even a few other random illnesses thrown in for good measure.
The two women passed a look between them. “Just let us know,” said Mrs. Prince.
After squeezing the children tight—the boys wiggling away too soon for her liking—Briar raced back to town on her bicycle, driven by the worried looks of the valley folk. They might not welcome her back if the illness was spreading for fear of catching it themselves.
When Briar made it back to the boardinghouse, she parked the bicycle in the shed and, taking the basket, found Miss Olive. She was in the kitchen, putting the final touches on the evening meal.
“Briar. Welcome home. You’ll be glad to know Sadie is stabilized and will be able to travel home to her parents by the end of the week. Isn’t that good news?” Miss Olive washed her hands then dried them on the towel she had slung over her shoulder.
“Yes, very much so.” Briar set her basket on the counter.
“The company plans to replace her immediately, and we need her bed. Two more girls came down with the illness while you were gone.”
“Oh, no. Now who?”
“Two more from your floor. The operatives don’t want to go in to work now, and the agent is concerned.”
“We all are, but what’s to be done?”
“Tomorrow the spinning room is getting a good scrubbing.” Miss Olive noticed the basket. “What have you got there?”
Briar pointed out the jars. “Remedies from Mrs. Prince and Fanny. They said to—”
“Briar rose tea and liniment?” Miss Olive hurried to unpack the basket.
“Among other items, yes.”
Miss Olive scratched her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. Must be getting too old for this.” She picked out one of the jars. “I’ll get started on that tea now. The girls should have a restful night with this in them. Thank you, Briar.” She cleared her throat. “Did Fanny send a message for me?” Her tone was light, sing-songy almost.
“No.”
“Nothing? No matter how odd-sounding? It might be important, er, to the preparation.”
Briar raised her eyebrows. “No. She just said to give you these and you would know why.”
“Typical,” Miss Olive whispered. “I’d go visiting her and Mrs. Prince for more details if I weren’t up to my elbows in problems here.” She smacked her elbows for emphasis, sending up a puff of flour that always seemed to surround her. “All the girls who have fallen ill have been on your floor. Makes me curious about what’s going on there. Are you worried you might be next?”
An image of everyone crowded around her frame to touch the spindle flittered through Briar’s thoughts. She swallowed. “A little.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so insensitive to you operatives who are healthy. I’ve been so busy keeping an eye on the ill that I’ve been blind to other things. I clearly missed what was going on with Ethel, and I feel terrible about that.”
“We all missed it,” Briar said. “She hid it well.”
“Yes, you girls can hide what you want to, can’t you?” Miss Olive pulled out a tray and it clattered on the counter. She looked thoughtful. “One other thing. Have you noticed an older woman loitering around the mill?” Miss Olive held her hand above her own height to indicate that of a potential stranger. “Calling girls over to her?”
“You mean looking for someone? Not recently. But Ethel said she had a mother-in-law. What if she came looking to warn Ethel about her husband?”
“No, Ethel received a telegram from her yesterday to let her know her husband is back home and feeling remorseful over what he did.”
“Is Ethel going back to him?”
Miss Olive shook her head. “No, dearie. But she is going to stay with us. She’s become a much stronger woman in Sunrise Valley and I’m glad she’ll let us help her a little longer. You and Mim have been good friends to her.”
“So, who is this mystery woman?” asked Briar.
“What woman?” said Miss Olive. She pinched the tea into an infuser and set it in a teapot.
“The one you were asking me about. If I’d seen someone loitering near the mill.”
“Oh, I haven’t seen anyone. I was asking if you had.” She pointed to the stack of plates waiting to go out. “Would you mind getting the girls started setting the table?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Briar hefted a stack of plates to the table, wondering if she was in the right boardinghouse. Miss Olive was starting to sound a bit off, like Fanny.
Monday morning the overseers had the girls scrub the spinning room from top to bottom. At first their work was solemn, thinking about all the operatives missing from their ranks, but as the day wore on, they started singing and visiting with one another, something they couldn’t do when all the frames were running.
“Be sure to clean and grease each and every spindle,” the overseer had said. He had looked straight at Briar before rubbing his hands and trotting off to put his feet up in his office. “I’ll be checking.”
The work was tedious, and it took them a long time to complete a frame. Briar had begun with frame number one. She did a good job of cleaning her frames every Saturday, so there wasn’t much fluff to find. However, wiping off the grease and applying more was a messy job, and soon she looked and felt as dirty as a doffer.
Finally, she’d worked her way to the frame with the fairy-wood spindle. She’d already decided that she would not clean it. She’d work as far as the neighboring spindles, but not let her hands go near the wooden one, and hope the overseer didn’t check each and every spindle like he said he would.
She slowed down when she got near the wooden spindle, afraid it might compel her to prick her finger. When she was doffing, it was a quick off with the full bobbin, on with the new, and move along. She’d never been tempted to touch the tip.
The other girls started singing “Daisy Bell,” a light, fun song. Those who had started work at the mill as doffers took off their boots and slid on the oily and soapy floor like they did when they were children. It had been a long time since the spinning room had been so joyful.
Briar sang along to relax her nerves. She was now cleaning the spindles on either side of the fairy wood. Hook in. Pull out. Sing the words. Pass over the wooden spindle. Hook in. Pull out. Sing the words. Breathe.
Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do.
I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage.
I can’t afford a carriage.
But you’ll look sweet upon the seat.
Of a bicycle built for two.
Briar was past the wooden spindle and she hadn’t touched it. Elated, she joined in the circle of girls nearest her as they spun in a circle, singing, �
�I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.”
She thought about how crazy Wheeler had made her. Even though the future was uncertain, she had no lingering regrets. As she continued to dance with the girls on the spinning room floor, her thoughts naturally drifted to Henry, who made her crazy whether he was here fixing her frame with a wink and a smile, or walking her home, showing surprising sensitivity for her feelings. The song seemed made for him. It wouldn’t be a stylish marriage, but a life with him would be fun and filled with love.
Briar stopped dancing as she realized the great distance her thoughts had just traveled. She stepped out of the circle and watched the operatives play. Was she only feeling this way because he wasn’t there? More importantly, would she still feel this way if he came home?
The overseer exited his office and saw the commotion. “Inspection!”
The operatives immediately stopped their dancing and scurried to their frames. He started with the frames on Briar’s side of the room. He was inspecting every single spindle.
When he got to Briar’s wooden spindle, he barely looked at it when he said, “This one is dirty. Do it again.” He stood, waiting for Briar to clean it right then.
She took out her hook and rag and, with trembling fingers, pushed the hook in and around the base of the spindle, pulling out a tiny bit of cotton fluff. She wiped it on her rag, hoping that was all the overseer wanted.
“Wipe off the entire spindle. Especially near the tip. It looks like it’s not been touched.”
Briar swallowed. “The tip?” she whispered.
A girl named Grace who worked the far side of the room stepped in. Before Briar realized what she was going to do, Grace took her rag and wiped the spindle and put on a fresh bobbin. “There you go. A clean spindle.” She stood with her arms crossed between Briar and the overseer. “Maybe now you can go pick on someone else. Briar is your best worker, and I can’t take it anymore how you single her out.”
Briar stood still, speechless. What had Grace done? Had she touched the tip? She looked healthy.
Sleeping Beauty's Spindle Page 19
