Willow Springs

by Jan Watson

  “I’m not ready, Alice. I’m just not ready to go out.”

  Alice turned, her eyes weary, her mouth set in a straight line. “Laura Grace, you can stay here and waste away if you choose, but this is not what Simon would want for his daughter. She needs fresh air, and frankly I’m tired of coddling you.”

  As quick as that, the room was empty. Copper’s blood boiled. Angrier than she’d ever been, she threw back the covers and ran to the window. Craning her neck, she could just see Alice turning the corner with a hooded wicker stroller that held her daughter. Her daughter! How dare Alice make decisions concerning Lilly Gray. Wait until she told Simon!

  The enormity of her loss came as swift as roiling floodwater. Falling to her knees, she prayed hard and fast. Her words tumbled together. Lord, please, give me some peace. If You won’t send him back, then show me how and why to live without him.

  Spent, she lay on the floor, her face pressed into the rug. What would happen if she never got up? Could she lie here forever, not feeling, not caring? It would be so easy. The thought of her baby got her to her knees, then to her feet. She was so tired of being tired.

  Four black crepe dresses hung from the rod in her dressing room. Delivered to the house by her dressmaker, they waited to announce her widowhood. Though her hands shook, she pinned the piece of hair jewelry Alice had made for her to the front of one and slipped it on before finding her shoes.

  It seemed she could hear her bones clanking as she descended the stairs. “Them bones, them bones, them dry bones,” she said and laughed at her foolish self.

  The new maid—Aimee, was it?—jumped a foot when Copper joined her at the kitchen sink. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “You scared me silly, Mrs. Corbett. Weren’t expecting to see you up.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Copper accepted the chair the maid pulled out for her and sipped gratefully at a cup of tea sweetened with honey. “Where is Searcy?”

  “Trailing after Mrs. Upchurch and the baby. They’ll be back soon. It’s the baby’s first outing.” Aimee colored. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Corbett. Of course you already know that.”

  “It’s all right. It’s just—I’ve been ill.”

  “Oh, right, ma’am, I know,” Aimee said while drying her hands on a corner of her apron. “Somebody’s here nearly all the time praying for you. We keep the coffeepot full and the teakettle on simmer.”

  Touched, the dreaded tears welling again, Copper asked, “Who comes?”

  “Everybody. It’s like they’re taking turns. I know most everyone from making my shopping rounds. Everyone except those ladies who come after dark.”

  “Why would they come after dark?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am, but half a dozen or so just show up every so often.” She nodded toward the back porch. “Searcy passes mugs of coffee out the door.”

  Copper surmised they were Simon’s patients, the poor and the prostitutes, who came to the back door when they needed help, now coming to the back door in support of her.

  She’d just petitioned the Lord to show her how and why, and clearly here was her answer. While she lay abed upstairs, sickened with grief, folks from every walk of life gathered below and lifted her up. She felt buoyant, as if her soul floated near the ceiling. “Will you pray with me?”

  Aimee knelt as Copper prayed, “Thank You, Father, for the witness of the many who have prayed for me. Thank You for answered prayer. Forgive my selfishness. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Copper moved to stand, but a tug on her skirt kept her sitting as Aimee added a prayer of her own. “Dear Lord, I just come today asking for Thy continued hand of healing on Mrs. Corbett. Hold her in the palm of Thy hand. Hide her suffering in the shadow of Thy wings.”

  “Thank you, Aimee. I think that’s the most beautiful prayer I’ve ever heard.”

  Aimee picked up Copper’s cup and saucer. Her fair skin bloomed. “I’ve learned powerful verses from Searcy. She shares one every morning; then I mark them in the Bible she gave me.”

  Standing, still shaky, Copper said, “I guess I’ll go and find my daughter.”

  “I’ve a better idea, ma’am,” Aimee answered. “Let me fetch a wrap, and you can wait for Mrs. Upchurch in the porch swing.”

  Copper stood at the kitchen window staring out, taking stock. A cup of strong tea kept her company as a cold March wind rattled the window. It was her birthday, and the cake Searcy insisted on baking cooled on the sink, its rich chocolate smell tempting her.

  Could it be she was twenty years old? Where had the time gone? Since Simon’s death, long days turned into months of sleepless nights and now a year and four months of melancholy.

  The first year hadn’t been so bad—once Alice got Copper out of bed. Simon’s presence was still so strong, and on each day that passed, she would remember a matching day from the year before. “On this day I told him I was expecting. On this we walked to Willow Springs and had a picnic. Oh, and here he kissed me by the morning-glory trellis.” Truly, the first year wasn’t so bad.

  But now . . . the first anniversary of each moment with him was over, and Copper had to do the seconds. Touching her forehead to the cold windowpane, she gave in to a moment of despair. Life stretched out in front of her like an unending highway of loss. She still remembered Simon’s face and the rich sound of his voice, but memory wouldn’t put his arms around her nor keep her warm on a cold March night.

  The sound of wooden blocks tumbling and of Lilly’s surprised laughter made her turn around. Copper leaned against the sink as she sipped her tea and watched Dodie build a little tower again, then let Lilly knock it down. Lilly laughed from deep in her belly as if she hadn’t just done the very same thing only minutes before. Dodie was a big girl now, mothering Lilly Gray like Marydell once mothered her.

  Not for the first time, Copper wondered if her decision to leave Lexington was the right one. Lilly would miss Dodie, and she would miss Alice and Searcy and Reuben. Not to mention Birdie, little Robert, Tommy Turner, and Andy. Although Andy flourished under Tommy’s tutelage, she felt he needed her mothering. He had been the hardest to tell. Even though Alice had been angry for weeks and accused her of being foolish and Searcy cried, it was Andy who broke Copper’s heart.

  “It will be all right, Miz Corbett. Me and Tommy will come and visit you. Wouldn’t that be something, me coming to see you in the mountains?” Andy’s eyes flashed as he teased. “I never liked wearing shoes nohow.”

  She had no doubt he would show up for a visit on Troublesome Creek one day.

  Thinking back, Copper realized Andy had been on her side since she’d first come to Lexington nearly three years ago. Everyone else asked why she wanted to leave. Why would she do such a thing? But Andy never questioned.

  The girls were tired of building blocks, so Copper brought out the rag dolls and the small cardboard suitcase of doll clothes Lilly had gotten from Santa last Christmas. Dodie loved playing dolls, and Lilly loved whatever Dodie was doing. It was time for Lilly’s nap, but it could wait. Alice would be back from her meeting soon.

  The kitchen was cozy and warm. Lilly’s eyes were drooping, and Dodie’s followed suit. Copper let them nap where they lay on the braided rug in front of the cookstove, blocks, dolls, and tiny clothes scattered all around. It was a pretty contrast to the blustery gray day Copper could see outside the window. Her tea had grown cold, but she sat at the table and drank it anyway. She didn’t want to disturb the girls by reaching for the kettle.

  Copper thought back to late summer, when she’d realized her skills as a midwife were becoming de rigueur. Much like the newly fashionable polonaise walking suit or nannies imported from Europe, she was in demand. It seemed anybody who was anybody or—at the very least—married to somebody wanted that nice Mrs. Corbett to deliver her baby. At least that’s what Dr. Thornsberry had told Copper when she questioned all the please-call notes delivered to her house. He was proud of her, he said, and, of course, Alice was delighted.


  But Copper wasn’t so sure. She quickly grew tired of all the demanding postdebutantes with their overdone houses and overwrought ways. On the other hand, she never tired of delivering the babies that her society mothers soon handed over to nannies and maids.

  Mrs. Lemuel Cain was a case in point. She was expecting her third baby in as many years, and she was delighted when Copper agreed to attend her. Toward the end of Mrs. Cain’s confinement, Copper’s visits became more frequent. She liked to keep a close eye on her patients.

  The Cains’ home was in Alice and Benton’s neighborhood and was even more pretentious. A pillared portico protected visitors from the elements while they waited to be admitted.

  Mrs. Cain usually received Copper in the drawing room, a space so full of heavy, dark wood furniture; billowing drapes; and needlepoint pillows that it made Copper feel smothered. Even the piano, sitting kitty-corner to the fireplace, was dressed with an artfully draped shawl.

  Helen Cain was very nice to Copper, even insisting that Copper bring Lilly when she came to call. Lilly loved to visit the nursery and play with the children, a two-year-old girl and a one-year-old boy. Helen was fortunate to have the same nursemaid who had cared for Helen herself as a child. Everyone called the maid MeMe. Copper thought it strange that she never saw the children with their mother. Wasn’t she worried MeMe would take her place in their hearts?

  It was well after midnight when Helen Cain delivered her third baby, another beautiful, healthy daughter. Copper wondered why babies so often liked to make their presentation in the middle of the night. But she didn’t mind as long as their deliveries went as well as this one. Mr. and Mrs. Cain were delighted with their little bundle from heaven and expressed their appreciation to Copper.

  Toward the end of Copper’s six-week follow-up visits with Mrs. Cain, she found her patient weeping into a lace handkerchief. “It’s MeMe,” Helen said when Copper questioned, afraid her patient was unwell.

  “MeMe,” Copper said, sounding like a parrot.

  Helen touched the hankie to her nose. “It’s not as if I’m dismissing her, Mrs. Corbett. My husband said she is welcome to stay on in the kitchen.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve missed something,” Copper said. “Is MeMe unable to care for the children? Perhaps you could get someone to assist her until the baby is older.”

  Helen sighed and tucked her handkerchief up the cuff of her sleeve. “I simply can’t have MeMe if everyone else has European nannies. How would it look when they go to the park?”

  “Your children seem to thrive under MeMe’s care,” Copper said, thinking of the elderly but spry maid and how quickly Lilly had taken to her.

  Two perfect tears trembled at the corners of Helen’s blue eyes. “Yes, I know. This is very difficult for me.” The hankie was retrieved from its hiding place. “You just don’t know, Mrs. Corbett—” she paused to dab her cheeks—“how stressful it is, keeping up with fashion.”

  Less than a week later, Copper was on the front porch knocking at a mud daubers’ nest with the end of the broom handle. The daubers loved tucking the meticulously fashioned, pipelike nests up under the gingerbread trim. And Copper loved to knock them down. Mud and debris showered onto the floor as she pounded. Spiders, with the daubers’ wormlike larvae attached, disentangled and crawled from the splattered mud tubes.

  Copper’s skin crawled as she swept the mess away. “Go somewhere else,” she said. Thinking of the poor spiders, stuffed into the prison of the daubers’ cells, waiting to be eaten when the larvae grew into grubs, gave Copper the willies.

  “Forevermore,” she said, noticing someone at the end of the walk. Laying the broom aside, she started that way. An elderly black woman was sitting on a brown valise. “Do you need help?” Copper asked.

  “No, ma’am,” she said, “Thank you anyway. I’m just resting a bit.”

  “MeMe!” Copper said, recognizing her. “Where in the world are you going?”

  “Well, first I’m taking myself to the train station, and then I’m taking myself to Atlanta, Georgia.” Her warm brown eyes looked up at Copper. “Do you know of Atlanta, Miz Corbett?”

  Before Copper could answer, MeMe continued. “It’s the prettiest place, flowers everywhere.”

  Copper could hear the woman’s knees creaking when she helped her up off the valise.

  “Whew,” MeMe said, “it’s a long way to the train station.”

  “Surely Mrs. Cain would have seen you to the station,” Copper said.

  “I didn’t give her the chance. I walked until I got tuckered out, and then I remembered this is where Searcy works, and I thought I’d sit and rest a spell. I could tell from when you came calling on Miz Helen that you have a good heart.”

  MeMe removed the hatpin from her hair and held her bonnet trimmed in silk violets out for Copper to see. “Miz Helen gave me this and some walking money. Did you know I took care of her since she was a baby? After twenty years, this old hat and thirty dollars is all I’m worth to her.” The woman’s shoulders sagged. “I spent all those years thinking she needed me. Looks like she could have given me a new hat at least.”

  “I’m sorry, MeMe,” Copper said, although it didn’t seem sufficient. “What can I do to help?”

  “I’ve got a sister in Atlanta and more nieces and nephews than you can count. That’s home. Don’t you worry about me; I’ll be fine once I get there.”

  Copper slipped her arm around MeMe’s waist. Lifting the cracked leather valise with her other hand, she guided her toward the kitchen door. “I have a train schedule in the kitchen. Let’s get you a glass of cold sweet tea, and then we’ll figure out when we need to get you to the station.”

  MeMe paused to settle the hat back on her head, expertly slipping the hatpin in place. She squared her shoulders, ready for the journey. “I expect old ladies ain’t out of fashion in Atlanta.”

  After Copper saw MeMe safely to her train, she sat on a park bench in the depot and watched the foot traffic. Men, women, and children all scurrying to get somewhere else. “All aboard!” She heard the conductor’s loud call. “All aboard!”

  She had turned MeMe’s words over in her mind. MeMe wasn’t afraid to face the future. She wasn’t put off by the thought of change. It didn’t take an old-fashioned hat and thirty dollars for Copper to make a decision. She was going home. MeMe had shown her the way. She reckoned she’d still be welcome on Troublesome Creek.

  Copper’s thoughts swirled like the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup that cold March day as she remembered making the decision that would send her in a new direction. She’d been packing and sorting all winter. One wagon full of furniture and tools had already been sent ahead to be unpacked on Troublesome Creek. She and Lilly Gray would leave early in June. Isaac and Hester would be home then to await the birth of their baby, due in late summer. Isaac would accompany her to the mountains and stay for a short visit while Hester stayed in Lexington with her family.

  There was one more thing Copper had to do. One she’d put off far too long. As soon as the weather warmed a little, she had to go to the cemetery. She had to visit Simon’s grave.

  The Corbett family plot was down a winding cemetery road banked by flowering trees of every sort and sectioned off from the other graves by a wrought iron fence with fleur-de-lis edging. Copper had brought a willow sapling from Willow Springs, the creek she and Simon loved so much, and Reuben planted it where she asked so that when it grew tall, the drooping branches would weep upon Simon’s resting place.

  Inclined to throw herself upon his grave, she stood instead and traced the inscription on the smooth granite.

  Simon Alexander Corbett

  Beloved Physician, Husband, Father, and Brother

  1856–1884

  The Lord Giveth His Beloved Sleep.

  Inside the fence, a statuary figure towered with wings outstretched, keeping watch. Michael, Copper decided, the archangel, leader of the righteous angels. It was only right that Simon should be in
Michael’s care.

  Her heart was a cold, gray lump leaking ashes. A simple mantra kept her from screaming and tearing her hair: “He is not here. He is not here.”

  Finally she allowed herself to kneel and smooth her hand over the grassy mound. “Simon, please understand I’m not leaving you.” Her fist tapped her chest. How did her heart survive when his did not? She guessed hers now beat for both of them. “I’ll carry you with me always.”

  She had no idea how long she knelt there, only that the sky darkened before Reuben moved from among the shadows to touch her shoulder. “We’d best be going, Miz Corbett. They be closing the gate soon.”

  He had to help her up, hold her steady, this wonderful friend. The man who’d been afraid to touch her for so long now allowed her to lean against his sturdy frame as he led her away. “He is not here,” she whispered, tasting the salt of her tears. “Praise God; he is not here.”

  It was a long way back to Troublesome Creek. Thankfully Copper had Brother Isaac as an escort. He was a good companion, entertaining both Copper and Lilly Gray with his stories from the Dark Continent of mischievous monkeys and regal lions but quiet when Lilly napped—Copper’s thinking time.

  There was so much to store away. So many good people she’d had to tell good-bye. Alice and Dodie, who cried for Lilly Gray before they’d even stepped off the porch. Andy Tolliver—how could she leave Andy? Tommy Turner and Birdie and little Robert. Birdie insisted on making Copper’s going-away hat. Surprisingly simple, it was fashioned with removable flowers so Copper could wear it to church or while working in the garden.

  And then there were the townspeople, people from church, her patients, and her good friend Dr. Thornsberry. How could so many people steal so much of Copper’s heart in three short years?

  Hardest, of course, had been saying good-bye to Searcy and Reuben. Copper had thought to leave the house to them, but Benton convinced her, rightly so, that such a move would hurt them more than help them. Lexington was progressive, but it was still not ready for mixing. So Copper sold the house. There was enough money in the bank to keep Searcy from scrubbing any floor but her own for the rest of her life. Reuben added land to their place to house all the chickens, horses, pigs, and cows, including Molly. He still wore his old straw hat, and he’d always have work-worn hands, but now he called himself a gentleman farmer. It made Copper smile to think on it.