Willow Springs

by Jan Watson

  Swirling pieces of chipped ice around in her glass, Copper pondered that for a moment. Would she? Could she give up all the comforts of her city life? “In a heartbeat, Isaac. I’d fly back on eagles’ wings if Simon would go with me.”

  “That puts me in mind of that verse from Exodus. You know the one I mean?”

  “‘I bare you on eagles’ wings, and brought you unto myself,’” she quoted, then dared to tell her preacher friend of her deepest wish. “Sometimes I pray that God will bear me on swift wings back to Troublesome Creek.” She raised her face to look into his brown eyes. “Is it selfish to be that way?”

  “You can’t help your feelings, little girl.” Isaac took a long draw from his glass. “Man, that’s good,” he said and then turned his thoughtful gaze on her. “Just mind that old saw ‘Be careful what you ask for lest you get it’ . . . or something like that.”

  “That sounds like something Daddy would say. But tell me, did you come all this way just for a visit with Simon and me?”

  Isaac stood and spread his arms. “I’ve been convicted, Copper. The Lord God has called me to gather souls for the harvest. I’m here to assemble supplies for my journey. I’m on my way to Africa.” The swing creaked when he sat back down.

  “Oh my. Weren’t there enough heathens on Troublesome Creek? Why, the Jaspers alone must have ten heathens in their family, and what about Digger Pennington? Did you give up on him?”

  Isaac shrugged. “I’m afraid there’s not much hope for old Digger. He’s convicted of his unconviction. But you’d be surprised by the Jaspers. Once I got Papa Carl under the water, near every one of them has been baptized.”

  Copper’s face broke into a grin. “I sure would have liked to see that. There must have been a lot of hallelujahs the day Carl Jasper was saved.”

  “It was a sight. You know, Carl must weigh three hundred pounds. His belly’s as big as a nail keg, his shoulders near broad as a corncrib door. I had to take him to the river to find a pool deep enough, and when he went under, I did too! I thought the Lord was calling me home for sure.” Isaac fished a red bandanna from his pocket and mopped his face. “Both of us come up gasping and praising God.” He paused and chuckled. “Believe it or not, Carl’s been called to preach. He’s taking over the pulpit at Troublesome Creek.”

  “Well, I never.” Copper shook her head at the thought. The errant curl she’d so carefully tucked away popped back out. “I can see why God has called you to the harvest field. But why Africa? You could do a world of good right here in Lexington, where the pews are filled with lukewarm Christians.”

  “The people here have heard the Word. Africa is ripe with possibility. Praise the Lord.” He raised his hand to the sky. “I want to do my Father’s bidding.”

  Copper ran her hands up and down her arms. “You’re giving me goose bumps. Simon and I want to help you with your mission. What can we do?”

  “Actually, Simon talked with me in June when you were wed. He offered to support me when I went to the missionary field. You married a man of God.”

  “God blessed me. Look, here he comes now with Hester. You’ll have time to get acquainted before everyone else arrives. You need to see our new baby, too.”

  The blood drained from Isaac’s face.

  “No. No. Not that,” Copper stammered. “A foundling was left on our doorstep. He needs your prayers.”

  Copper took out a sheet of lavender-scented stationery that bore her title, Mrs. Simon Corbett, embossed across the top and began to write.

  Dear Mam,

  It is cold and snowing here this late November day. Simon is away, teaching a seminar in Cincinnati, so we will not open the office today. Searcy has lit a fire in the parlor, and I sit here with a cup of tea and my pen and think of you.

  You will be as shocked as I to learn of the happenings here in Lexington over the last couple of months. Isaac and Hester are to wed! Simon and I just shake our heads to think of what one little dinner party has wrought. Hester is wonderfully happy and thanks me daily.

  We have been to the dressmaker’s a number of times. Mam, Hester’s wedding gown is lovely. It is made of white satin with lace trim. The sleeves are capped with a pinaforelike lace flounce, and the hem is finished with ermine. A coronet of crystal-beaded flowers will secure her floor-length veil. She will carry a bouquet of white roses and orange blossoms. Simon is to give her away (Hester’s father died in the war), and I shall be her attendant. I will wear an orchid silk ensemble with a dear little hat of orchid-colored violets and feathers. It ties with ribbon under my chin.

  We have had no easy time convincing Isaac that he must allow Simon to have his tailor dress him. He laughed at the white tie and tails and thus far has refused to trim his beard, but, as you well know, we women will have our way. I suspect he will be well groomed come the wedding day. The bride and groom will leave soon after the wedding and board a ship bound for Africa.

  I shall miss Hester—we have become fast friends—but I am so happy she has found someone dear to her heart. Hester was afraid she would wither on the vine, never finding a husband.

  You asked about the foundling baby when last you wrote. We never found his mother, but I am relieved to answer that he is doing well. I took him to meet Mrs. Archesson—Birdie. Just as I thought, she took to him like a brown thrush to corn. They are a comfort to each other, and, Mam, Tommy Turner is helping with the baby. To keep from being lonely, Birdie takes in boarders, and Tommy is one of several living there. He will set a good example for Bobby. Birdie named the baby for her own dead son.

  Janie (remember me telling you about the wet nurse, Janie Mark?), along with her children, now lives in the little stone house behind Birdie’s and helps with Bobby and the lodgers. Isn’t it wonderful, Mam, how God brings just the right people together?

  Please reply soon and tell me of yourself and Daddy, Willy and Daniel. Does it snow much there in Pennsylvania? I pine for all of you.

  Sealing the envelope with mucilage, Copper hurried outside, where the wind whipped the snow into white showers, to hand her letter to the postman. She wished the office were open even in Simon’s absence, but he insisted she stay in when the weather was inclement.

  On Troublesome Creek, she would have spent a day like today shoveling a path to the stable in order to milk the cow and care for the other animals. She wondered if she would ever adjust to forced idleness.

  Back in the house, she shook snow from her shawl and hung it by the kitchen stove to dry. “Move, Paw-paw,” she said, giving the hound a gentle shove with her boot. He gave up his spot in front of the stove and curled up on his bed in the corner.

  “That old dog sure sucks up heat,” Searcy said.

  Copper smiled. It had taken some persuasion to get Searcy to accept an animal in the house. But now, she noticed, Searcy kept the choicest table scraps for him and never made him move when she swept the floor. Simon didn’t forbid it as long as Paw-paw stayed in the kitchen. Copper guessed Simon had learned when to give up.

  “This would be a good day to clean,” Copper said. “I can’t laze around a minute longer. What about the pantry? I’ve been meaning to sort through the canned goods for ages.”

  “Searcy ain’t so sure about spring cleaning in November. Seems like you be mixing ever’thing up. What be next? Planting onion sets?”

  “Let’s,” Copper teased as they headed to the pantry. “We’ll get Reuben to plow the garden.”

  The pantry was a long, narrow room. Open shelves above marble countertops lined the left wall. A row of small windows near the ceiling let in what light was available on such a gloomy morning. Crocks of sauerkraut and bread-and-butter pickles lined the back of the counter, while the shelves held green beans, tomatoes, corn, blackberries, peaches, apples, and other foodstuffs. A cured ham, ready for baking, hung from an exposed pipe. Flour, sugar, cornmeal, and oats were stored in pull-out tin bins in the cabinets below the marble counters. Bags of dried beans leaned against the wall. Potatoes, oni
ons, and apples, layered in straw, sat in boxes on the floor.

  An old pie safe stood against the far wall and held seldom-used cooking utensils. On the right, cabinets with windowed doors held all manner of plates, bowls, cups, and saucers. Deep drawers protected linens from dust. Searcy kept her flatirons, as well as the wooden ironing board, behind the pantry door.

  “Doesn’t this make you feel blessed?” Copper asked.

  “Blessed with hot work and a sore back,” Searcy replied, wiping the jar lids free of dust as Copper handed each one to her. “But Searcy surely do like looking at all them jars lined up in rows like that. Looks like summertime.”

  “Let’s put some of these in that bushel basket,” Copper said, a jar of beans and one of tomatoes in her arms. “I want to check on Andy’s mother and the girls as soon as this snow lets up. Annalise is so fragile; I’m afraid she’ll forget to get groceries in for the children.”

  “Fragile!” Searcy huffed, her hands on her hips. “Lazy be more likely. Laying around like a plucked chicken, too ornery to fix any victuals for her young’uns.”

  “The Bible says, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’”

  “Ain’t be talking about no receiving. Be talking about working. God don’t give rewards to them that don’t.”

  “There’s truth in that for sure. But we have plenty here—” Copper opened her arms to the full pantry and tapped a trapdoor with her foot—“and more below in the cellar. Besides, if I take a basket, it will give me an excuse to visit. You don’t really mind, do you?”

  “Don’t be casting pearls before swine, the Good Book say.”

  Searcy fussed, but she filled a poke with potatoes and onions. Before Miz Corbett came, Searcy had slipped food to Andy nearly every week to keep the little Tollivers fed. Miz Alice would have pitched a fit if Searcy had been caught.

  “You might as well take some of them fried-apple pies when you go. That Andy, he loves Searcy’s fried-apple pies. . . . And take a round of corn bread.”

  It surely was right to feed those raggedy children. From the things Miz Corbett had told her, Searcy had her own opinion of Annalise Tolliver. No other woman she knew stayed in bed while her hungry little children were left to fend for themselves, that boy Andy working like a man.

  But there was no use saying anything ugly. Miz Corbett never saw bad in anyone save maybe Miz Alice. And she couldn’t rightly help that. A body would have to have her eyes poked out to be around Miz Alice and not see something bad. Miz Corbett was like sunshine . . . chasing shadows from dark corners.

  Jouncing along on the seat beside Reuben, Copper was in her element. It made her feet itch to spend too much time indoors. She couldn’t get enough of the cold, crisp air. And snow . . . snow blanketed yards and roads, decorated trees like coconut icing, and muffled the sound of the horse’s hooves and the creak of the buggy.

  They had just got started when Copper spied trouble up ahead. Clip-clopping down the street came Alice’s horse pulling Alice’s fancy carriage driven by Alice’s groom, and oh no, Alice’s stern face poked out the open window before one gloved hand shot forth, palm out.

  Without a word, Reuben pulled their buggy to the side of the road and sat, passively waiting.

  Alice’s liveried chauffeur hopped down, procured a broom, and proceeded to sweep a path from carriage to buggy before he opened the door and escorted his mistress across the slippery road.

  Alice looked up at Copper. “One does not sit beside one’s driver, Laura Grace,” she chastised in a voice as cold as the wintry day. With a toss of her head she turned her wrath on Reuben. “I would have thought that you had more sense than to seat her this way.”

  “Yes’m,” Reuben said, staring straight ahead.

  “I will be reporting this to Dr. Corbett.”

  “Yes’m,” Reuben repeated.

  Copper allowed Alice’s groom to assist her down and into the buggy, where she perched on the edge of the seat. Leaning out the door, Copper choked out, “I’m sorry, Alice. I just wanted to enjoy the fresh air and feel the snow on my face. It makes me think of home.”

  “This is your home, Laura Grace. You are a doctor’s wife and a Corbett. Please conduct yourself accordingly.”

  Copper sat, mortified, and watched as the ice queen slid across the street. Unable to bring herself to answer Alice’s dismissive wave, she hung her head. Anger percolated through her heart like strong black coffee. Try as she might, despite her prayers, she couldn’t make herself like Simon’s sister.

  With a jerk the buggy moved forward. Shoving her hands deep inside her Persian lamb muff, Copper settled back. The basketful of canned goods on the seat bounced every time they hit a bump. Through the window she noticed the snow was not as sparkly as when she’d first come out, and the air she drew into her lungs was damp and oppressive. Alice is only trying to teach me city ways, she thought, contrite. She’s only trying to help. I’ve got to make my peace with her somehow.

  Then a mean little vision stole into her mind. A snowball flung with lethal accuracy slammed against a regal head. Copper laughed.

  The small house on James Street was stifling. Reuben set the bucket of coal Copper had brought beside another scuttle filled to its brim before he returned to the buggy.

  Following Marydell, Copper carried the basket to the kitchen. Dodie sat in her rickety high chair, gnawing on a drumstick. When she saw Copper, she waved the meaty bone in the air and kicked her bare feet. The remains of a meal sat congealing on the kitchen table.

  “Looks like you have plenty to eat, Marydell,” Copper said.

  “Ma’s friend brought lots of things.” Marydell twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Dodie got a new dress, and Ma got a new doll.” Grabbing Copper’s hand, she pulled her toward the front room. “See? Ma put it in the cabinet so’s me and Dodie won’t get her dirty. Do you want me to take her out?”

  “No, thank you, Marydell. Your mother will show it to me if she wants to. Is she sleeping?”

  “Yeah. She said for me to keep Dodie quiet, but she wouldn’t mind if I showed you the doll. She likes you, Miz Corbett.”

  Copper drew a handkerchief from her pocket. “Take this and wipe Dodie’s face and hands, please, while I see about your mother.”

  Copper drew back the beaded curtain separating the bedroom from the kitchen. “Annalise? I’ve brought some things for the children.”

  One hand emerged from the mound of covers on the bed and pushed golden hair from startling blue eyes. “Copper—” she slurred the slightest bit—“you’re just too good, but we don’t need anything. You shouldn’t bother.” Annalise made a wan attempt to sit up before falling back against velvet-covered pillows. An empty bottle clattered to the floor and rolled beneath the bed. “Oh my, what time is it? I was up all night with Dodie. She had another of her earaches.” Annalise smiled, revealing perfect teeth.

  Marydell walked in with the squirming Dodie and dumped her on her mother’s bed. “She’s been a good baby today, Ma. And she slept straight through last night.” Marydell bent over and blew a wet kiss on the baby’s skinny belly.

  Annalise seemed to take no notice that Copper had caught her in a lie.

  Dodie made a game of sliding off the far side of the bed, causing Marydell to run around to catch her. Dodie crowed with delight, then climbed into her mother’s arms and began to suck her thumb.

  “Ma, can I show Miz Corbett the new doll? I’ll be very careful.”

  “Don’t whine, Marydell,” Annalise answered, her eyes drooping. “Don’t you be getting her dirty.”

  “I won’t.” Marydell’s eyes shone with excitement. “Come on, Miz Corbett. This one’s ever so pretty. She kinda looks like you.” Wiping her hands on her skirt, the little girl opened the door of the curio cabinet and took a doll from the middle shelf.

  “My, she is lovely,” Copper said. “Why, I’ve never seen such a beautiful dress.”

  The doll was wearing a replica of a woman’s formal
calling suit made of dark green taffeta with a short, fitted jacket. Her stand-up collar, jabot, and wrist flounces were of lace. Marydell pulled up the skirt, revealing silk underclothes, hose, and black patent leather pumps. Fastened to her wig was a tiny hat trimmed with feathers, and she carried a rose-colored parasol that could be opened and closed.

  “See why she looks like you?” Marydell reached out and reverently stroked the doll’s head. “See her pretty red hair? Look, we can take her hat off and her hair will come loose and you can comb it. If I could just find a comb . . . Ma won’t let me use hers.”

  Copper put the doll back in the cabinet and closed the door. “Why, Marydell, the doll on the top shelf has the same color hair as yours. Pretty as sunshine. I think I like her the very best.”

  Marydell leaned against Copper. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be just like you. I’m gonna have me a fine horse and buggy, and I’m gonna have a hired man to drive me and Dodie around.”

  Copper cupped Marydell’s face. “I hope when you are a young lady, you will be allowed to drive the buggy for yourself.”

  A knocking at the back door caught their attention.

  “Who could that be?” Marydell ran ahead of Copper and cracked the door.

  A child somewhat older than Marydell stood shivering on the back stoop.

  “It’s Lizzie.” Marydell opened the door wide.

  The child ignored Copper’s urging to come inside. Instead she clutched at Copper’s dress. “Please, ma’am, come with me. Mrs. Reardon saw your buggy, and she said come fetch you. Mama’s bleeding real bad, and the baby won’t come. She said you’d know what to do.”

  “But I’m just the doctor’s wife,” Copper stammered, alarm coursing through her. “I can’t deliver a baby. You’ll have to get someone else.”

  “There ain’t time for nobody else, lady. You got to help my mama.” Lizzie nearly dragged Copper off the stoop.

  “Just a minute . . . let me think. Marydell, go out front and tell Reuben to fetch Dr. Thornsberry. Tell him it’s an emergency and to come right away. Tell him to come to . . . where do you live?”