All of a sudden I feel dizzy and have to hold on to the counter to steady myself.
“Are you feeling well, Millie? You look pale.”
“I'm quite alright, thank you, sir.” I give him a big smile to prove it. “I'll go and unpack that shipment that came in earlier.”
The last thing I need is for Mr. Mercer to send me home because he thinks I'm too tired to work. Wouldn't Denise just love that? I ran into her at the market earlier in the week. She barely glanced at Eddie and said, “How you manage all you do is a riddle to me, Millie. Don't forget I'm prepared to take over from you at the drugstore anytime. My mama feels it is a most suitable environment for me.” I didn't bother to answer her.
Elsie Bates said she's working at the old people's home. It's a long walk from that part of town in this heat. Is she telling Mr. Mercer the truth about her sister's baby?
I finish putting the new stock on the shelves, just as the clock strikes the half hour. I hang up my work pinafore behind the door of the alcove and ask Mr. Mercer, “Would you like me to do anything else before I go home, Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes, please take your father the bottle of linseed oil he wanted.” He hands it to me, wrapped neatly in brown paper. I'll walk past the forge on my way home. It feels good to be outside: I take in deep breaths of air. I wish I could stop getting upset every time I see Mrs. Bates. I want to believe that she told Mr. Mercer the truth. There is no reason for her to lie to him. She's doing exactly what she told me that day in the garden: she plans to leave when she gets what she needs. She's managing to buy a few little things for her sister's baby, so that she doesn't arrive in Port Hope empty-handed. I convince myself that I don't have anything to be concerned about anymore….
I pick up Eddie from Grace's house, and push the buggy towards the forge. Father and Farmer Price are busy talking, their backs to the open door. Suddenly they turn to one another and shake hands, and I overhear Father say, “It's a generous offer, Dan. I accept. You'll have no cause for regret.”
I hesitate to interrupt, and quickly pass by before they see me. I can give Father the oil later. Farmer Price is around an awful lot lately and seems so interested in our family. It is good for Father to have a friend to talk to, but … but … don't start imagining things again.
Supper is easy tonight, some cold meat and salad and a loaf of crusty bread, bought at the market yesterday.
Father says, “I'll be gone all day tomorrow. I'm interested in some tools that may be going cheap at auction at Fox's Corner. No need to wait supper for me, Millie.”
“Can I come too, Pa? Please?” Hamish asks.
“Not this time, son. I have several farms I'll be calling on, but after you've swept the forge and locked up – and I'm relying on you to do that before you go off to play, Hamish – you can have the rest of the day to yourself.”
When do I get time for myself? But, I'm not being fair. I have my tea party to look forward to on Sunday, and working at the drugstore makes me feel … I don't know … like a person, I guess … not just Millie, having to keep house long before I'm ready.
“PROMISE ME YOU'LL KEEP US TOGETHER”
After I come home from the drugstore, next day, I make a sandwich for both Hamish and myself, and we sit outside to eat. I was kept busy all morning, running to fill customers' orders, and then told to rearrange a display that Mr. Mercer had approved of only last week. I am tired and out of sorts.
What I'm longing to do is to take an apple and a book and go somewhere shady to read – the way I used to sometimes, when Mother was still alive….
After we've finished eating, knowing Hamish will be off in a flash to play with his friends, I remind him that school will be starting in a couple of weeks and we need to sort out his clothes. The look on his face tells me we're in for a battle.
“It won't take long, and then you can go out. Those overalls you're wearing need letting down, so that means your fall pants will likely be too short as well. Just try them on, please; if I can't fix them, I guess we'll have to buy you a new pair.” Unwillingly, Hamish trails upstairs after me.
“Bring out your school clothes and let's see if they'll still do. Meanwhile, Eddie's overdue for his afternoon nap – he's worn-out from the heat.”
“I'm not changing while you're in here.”
“I'll put Eddie in his crib, and then wait outside till you call me.”
I leave the boys and wait. Five minutes pass by, and there has not been a sound from Hamish. I knock softly and go in. Hamish is lying on his bed reading a comic. He jumps to his feet and says, “They fit me alright. I promised Robbie I'd come over straight after lunch. He's waiting for me to help him, and Pa said I could go.”
I know perfectly well he has not tried on his pants. Does he think I don't see through him?
“As soon as I see that the pants fit, you can go, Hamish.”
“I already told you, they fit fine.”
“Let me be the judge of that. Mother wouldn't like you to wear clothes to school that you've obviously outgrown.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I wish I hadn't said them. Hamish doesn't need reminding that I'm taking over another task that Mother always did. I start again, forcing myself to speak to Hamish as nicely as possible: “Please, Hamish, I'll turn around and I won't look till you tell me to. The minute I see whether the pants will do, you can go off to build your fort – you'll have hours to play before supper time.”
He mutters and grumbles, and hisses, “You're not to look until I say.” When he finally lets me turn around, it's all I can do not to laugh. Hamish must have grown a foot taller this summer – his pants are way too short for him.
“We'll go out and buy you a new pair first thing on Monday, the minute I finish the wash. These won't even do for play. Both Zeller's and Claxton's have back-to-school sales on, so we should be able to buy a nice pair for seventy-five cents, perhaps less.”
“These ones will do, I've told you. I like them, Ma bought them for me, and I don't want a new pair.”
I grab his hand and drag him into my room. I open the wardrobe doors, so he can see himself in the mirror. “Hamish, look, I could cut them down for shorts for now if you want, but they won't keep you warm in the fall. Don't worry, there's enough money in the fund for a new pair.”
Hamish is spoiling for a fight. His cheeks redden and he pushes out his bottom lip: “If you think that I'm going to go shopping with my sister, pushing my baby brother in a buggy, and have everyone look at us; and then try on pants in a store, with you waiting and Eddie yelling, you can think again. I won't go and you can't make me.” He folds his arms and glares at me.
“Hamish, it's a sale. You have to try them on to see if they are the right size; the salesclerk won't exchange sales merchandise.”
“Too bad. I am not going shopping with you, so there.”
My patience is at an end. “Hamish, can't you, for once, do something without a big argument? You're spoilt; you should be pleased you're getting something new to wear to school.” I feel like shaking him.
“You can't make me go!” His voice becomes louder and louder, and Eddie starts to whimper. “And don't call me spoilt! You always want to get your own way.”
“Now, see what you've done – you've woken your brother. Honestly, I'm fed up with the pair of you. I never get a moment's peace.” I go back into the boys' room and pick up the baby.
Hamish follows me. “Pa is going to send Eddie to the Prices, so you'll have lots of peace and quiet then, won't you?” he says defiantly.
“I don't believe you – you're making it up. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I say.
“I am not making it up, Miss Millie Bossy Carr, and if you don't believe me, just ask Pa when he comes home. If you want to know, I heard Farmer Price say, ‘The missus can't wait to have a baby to take care of again.’” Hamish rushes downstairs.
I shout out after him, “If it's true, why didn't you tell me before?” The back door slams.
I hu
g Eddie tightly and rub his back, the way he loves. “I'm never letting you go, Eddie – you're staying right here with Millie. Hamish doesn't know what he's talking about.” Thank goodness the baby can't understand what his big brother just said. After I've put him back in his crib, he soon settles down.
And then … and then I stand perfectly still. I have to force myself to breathe calmly because suddenly I know that Hamish is telling the truth. I remember all those talks with the Prices, and how Grace told me that Mrs. Price came round to their house and asked to hold Eddie. And then there's Mr. Price, always making so much of Hamish – giving him a nickel, flattering him, filling his head with nonsense.
Only it wasn't nonsense at all. It wasn't Hamish he was after – he doesn't need anyone else for farmwork – it was the baby. A present for Mrs. Price.
All along I've been worried about Elsie Bates, when the danger was always right here, at home. This must be what the traveling woman meant when she said there's a difficult time ahead, a time to test my patience and my strength. When will the test be over? It seems I'm tested every minute of every day!
Father's always asking me, “Is everything alright?” He looks anxiously at me because he thinks the boys are too much for me. Now I understand why he doesn't take much interest in Eddie. Why would he, when he's made up his mind to give him away?
I heard him myself, yesterday, when I passed by the forge, saying, “It's a generous offer, Dan. I accept.” Didn't I see Farmer Price and Father shake hands on the bargain, as if … as if my Eddie is a horse to be sold? I can't bear it. I won't bear it.
If only I hadn't asked Father about having Eddie taken care of when I go back to school. Maybe times are so hard that he thinks it will be easier to give the baby away to Mrs. Price than to pay someone a dollar a week to look after him for a few hours a day. I'd gladly give him all the egg money and all the boot fund, as well as my share of the pay from Mr. Mercer, if only he'd keep him.
Eddie's sleeping peacefully, so I leave him and go into my room. What am I to do? Who can I ask to help us? I lie down on my bed for just for a few minutes. My head aches; I must have fallen asleep….
Father's voice wakes me up from below, “Is anyone at home?”
Father's back early, or is it supper time already? Didn't he say not to wait for him for supper? I rub my eyes, and go downstairs. What am I going to say?
“Well, Millie, my love, it's settled. Let's hope I've done the right thing, that it's all for the best.” Father smiles at me wearily, and I wonder how he can smile. Doesn't he feel the least little bit sorry? I follow him into the kitchen.
“I'm tired,” he says, sitting down, as though nothing at all has happened. “It's been a big decision to make.”
“No! You can't … you mustn't! Father, please don't send him away. Promise me you'll keep us together. I know his crying disturbs you, and he's another mouth to feed, but he doesn't cost so very much.” Then I lean my arms on the back of Mother's chair, thinking how greatly she loved this baby. I put down my head, and burst into tears – all the tears I haven't had time to shed since she died.
When I finally stop to wipe my face, my father is staring helplessly at me. “Will you please tell me what this is all about? I don't understand why you're crying, Millie. You never cry. Tell me….”
I'm trembling, from crying so hard. “Mother said I was to hold us together. She trusted me, and now … and now, you are giving Eddie away. It is true, isn't it?”
“Millie, look at me! What kind of man do you think I am? I would never, ever, send one of you away. Now sit down here beside me and tell me who put such a foolish idea in your head.” He mops my face gently with his handkerchief.
“Hamish said … he said you are sending Eddie to the Prices. It seemed to make sense because Farmer Price is always saying how much he'd like to give the boys a home. Hamish says he heard him say that Mrs. Price can't wait to take care of a baby again.” More tears roll down my cheeks. I don't bother wiping them away. “And then you shook hands on the deal – I saw you.”
Father grips my shoulders. “No, no, no, that's not it at all. There's your brother at the door now. I am going to find out what's at the bottom of this. Hamish?” he calls out sternly. “Get yourself in here, and make it sharp.” His fingers drum on the table.
Hamish comes in and looks at me belligerently.
“Sit down and take that look off your face. We both have some explaining to do, I reckon,” Father says.
“I never started it, Pa. Millie was bossing me and she said I was spoilt and –”
“And I have every reason to believe she had good cause to say it. However, I am not interested in listening to any tittle-tattle. The baby's crying, Millie. What I have to say can wait until you bring him down. Eddie might as well hear this too.”
When we're all sitting round the table, Father says, “It is a terrible thing to have to give away a child, and it is not something that I am prepared to do, now or ever. Is that clear, Hamish?”
My brother nods his head, never taking his eyes from Father's face.
“What, exactly, did you hear me say to Dan Price, son?”
“Well, it's not exactly, maybe, but I thought I heard Farmer Price say …” and Hamish looks down, shamefacedly, “… that Mrs. Price said she is looking forward to looking after the baby.”
“He was not talking about Eddie. He would not dream of asking for Eddie. He was not talking about our baby – do you understand, Hamish? You jumped to conclusions before finding out if those words were true. You have upset Millie, who does so much for us all. You have upset me and disappointed –”
“Don't say it, Pa. Don't say Ma would be disappointed in me.” Hamish looks as if he is going to burst into tears.
“I wasn't going to, but Mother would say Millie has enough worries without you adding to them.” Father takes Eddie from me. “From now on, Hamish, you will have no time for jumping to conclusions. You will help your sister: make your own bed, keep your room tidy, and dry the supper dishes in the evenings. And if Millie needs your help with chores, you will do them, without making excuses.”
“Do you mean forever?” Hamish asks, horrified. “Housework?”
“Yes. And when your brother is old enough, he will help too.”
“I'm sorry, Pa. I'm sorry, Millie. I'm glad Eddie's staying home.” Hamish wipes his face on his sleeve.
Father ruffles Hamish's hair with his free hand, still holding Eddie with the other. “And now I have some news for you: the Prices are selling their farm. They are moving closer to their married daughter. Mrs. Price wants to help look after her new grandchild – that's the baby she is looking forward to, Hamish. Dan Price is going to go into partnership with his son-in-law in his hardware business.”
Father pauses, then says, “I have decided to make some changes too. I'm starting a mobile forge. Dan and I have been discussing it, and he has offered to sell me his old Ford truck. I gave him a small down payment – all I can manage at present – and he's fine with that. Everything necessary for the trade will be in the truck: all my tools and a portable forge that I'll build in the back, with your help, son.”
Hamish jumps up and down with excitement, his tears forgotten.
“It means I'll be away long hours – dawn to dusk and even later – two, three days a week. I'll go to farms and do the work farmers need on-site. They won't have to come into town to me. I won't only shoe horses, but I'll mend tools and harnesses, fix barn doors, retool locks and hinges and anything else that needs replacing. In time, I aim to make wrought-iron goods and even weather vanes.
“With four blacksmiths here in town, there isn't enough work to go around. But if I can travel to customers who live far out and offer them a service at a price they can afford, I've a better chance of making a living for us all. An itinerant blacksmith, that's what I'll be. The forge will still be open for my regulars, on the days I'm not traveling.
“I'm going to need your help, all three of you. Milli
e, will you be able to handle things here? I know it means more responsibility for both you and Hamish. Can I count on you? You know your mother and I had been talking about this for quite a while before young Eddie came along.”
“We will be fine, Father, and I think it's a wonderful idea,” I say.
“You can count on me, Pa, I promise. Carr and Son, traveling blacksmiths,” Hamish says dreamily.
“Good enough. Now, this blacksmith is starving. Is there any supper?”
“A truck, Pa, a real truck,” Hamish says. He can think of nothing else!
“No, I don't think I want to eat a truck, son.” When he hears us laugh, Eddie joins in.
“Put the kettle on, please, Hamish,” I say. “Bread and cheese and tomatoes alright, Father?” I'd totally forgotten to make supper, and poor Eddie hasn't had his bottle yet. “It won't be long.”
“I'll keep hold of Eddie while you get supper, Millie,” Father says.
“Thank you, Father. I wanted to ask you if you would please take Hamish to Claxton's on Monday … if you have time, that is…. He needs new pants for school.”
Father says he will, and Hamish rewards me with a rare smile.
“Thanks, Pa. And will the truck be here soon? You'll need me to clean it, won't you?”
They talk trucks and forges and buying up discarded tools at local farm sales – tools that Father plans to make as good as new again. They discuss the cost of gasoline and replacing worn tires all through supper, but Hamish dries the dishes without being reminded, and I have time to press my blouse for the tea party tomorrow.
THE TEA PARTY
When I go into the kitchen to say good-bye to Father, he barely raises his head. He's marking auction notices in yesterday's newspaper.
“Eddie and I are leaving now for Miss Tracy's tea party.”
He mumbles something that sounds as though he hopes I'll have a nice afternoon. Nothing has changed, and yet everything seems better somehow.
When the Bough Breaks Page 7
