by Ann Shorey
She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house smelled faintly of soap and warm turpentine. Ellie crept to the top of the stairway and peered down into the kitchen. The copper wash boiler steamed unattended on the rear of the stove. Floorboards creaked on the porch. Curious, she descended the stairs to open the back door.
Aunt Ruby turned from the wooden tub where she’d been scrubbing what looked like one of Matthew’s shirts. “What’re you doing out here in your nightdress? And barefoot?”
Looking down, Ellie saw her aunt was right. “I don’t know.”
Aunt Ruby dropped the sodden garment into the washtub. “Let’s go in.” She wiped her hands on her apron. Sliding an arm around her niece, she guided her to the table. “Sit. I’ll bring you a cup of broth.”
Ellie obeyed, the fog in her head beginning to evaporate. “Where are the children?”
“Molly has them at her house. They’ve been there since . . . since we laid Julia to rest.” Aunt Ruby folded her arms together, squeezing them across her middle. “Matthew’s out with Arthur. They’re doing the plowing.”
Ellie glanced around the familiar kitchen, noticing that Ruby had set the milk to rise under the window instead of on the worktable. The pans were covered with one of Ellie’s best linen towels.
When Aunt Ruby set the cup in front of her, Ellie asked, “How long have you been here?”
“Just today? Or since the burial Saturday?”
“Both,” Ellie said, half afraid of the answer.
Her aunt slid out a chair and sat. “Two days, off and on. Today, since midmorning. Sunday, all day.”
“I don’t remember anything about Saturday afternoon or Sunday.”
“You slept. That’s all. Just slept. Best thing for you, if you ask me.” She squeezed Ellie’s hand.
Ellie lifted the cup and took a sip of broth. The hot liquid burned her lips. She blew on the surface and tried another swallow, then pushed it away. “I shouldn’t be down here like this. Someone might come.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll get dressed, and be back in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here.”
Ellie paused on the bottom step as memories flooded back. She swayed and gripped the newel post. Little Julia. Her inability to protect her from illness. Her blonde baby lying in the cemetery next to her three other infants. Ellie thought of the children staying at Molly’s. Guilt swept over her. She wasn’t even being a proper mother to the ones God allowed her to keep.
Matthew removed his straw hat and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Looks like Ruby got the wash hung out.” He glanced at Arthur. “Don’t know what I’d of done without her these past couple of days.” He glanced at the bald man bobbing along beside him. “Or you either, truth be told.”
“Glad to have a chance to help out.” Arthur lowered his voice, although they were still several yards from the house. “Me and Ruby’ve been heartsick at the way things turned out for you and Ellie. Losing Julia wasn’t in no way a blessing—don’t get me wrong.” He glanced anxiously at Matthew. “But it did give us a way to make it up to you for deceiving her about her pa.”
Tears stung Matthew’s eyes at the mention of Julia. Right now he felt he’d lost his whole family. He missed the clatter of the older children in the house, but most of all he missed his wife’s soft voice and smile.
Arthur spoke as if he’d been tracking Matthew’s thoughts. “D’you think she’s better today?”
Matthew shook his head. “I couldn’t see any change when I looked in on her before dinner.”
When they walked past the clothesline, a gust of wind caught at a damp shirt. One sleeve brushed against Matthew’s beard. He put his hand over the spot, remembering the feel of Ellie’s fingers on his face. He longed for the comfort of her touch.
They stopped at a bench beside the back door to remove their muddy boots. From the kitchen they heard women’s voices. Matthew’s head jerked up. He kicked off his boots and strode into the house.
Ellie stood beside the stove wearing a clean apron over her black dress. Her face looked thinner, and smudges like purple thumbprints stained the skin under her round blue eyes.
“Dearest.” He drew her to him.
She leaned against his chest, and for a moment he stood motionless, the better to absorb her presence. But when he kissed the top of her head, she jerked away.
“Supper will be on the table in a minute.” Her voice quavered. “Then would you get the children from Molly’s? They belong here.”
The following week, Matthew drove to Ben Wolcott’s store with Ellie beside him. He stole glances at her as they traveled, hoping a peaceful trip away from the farm would rekindle a spark of affection between them. Over the past several days, she had stayed busy from sunrise to sundown, shining each room in the house, fussing over the children, cooking large meals. At night, she’d fall into bed exhausted and go right to sleep. He wished she’d recognize that he mourned Julia too.
When they reached the store, the first thing he noticed was a prominent handbill tacked to the front of the mercantile.
THE FORSYTHE TOURING COMPANY
PRESENTS
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S
MACBETH
Friday, May 15th
!! Stagehands and Seamstresses Needed Now !!
Apply at Bryant House Hotel
He’d paid little attention to community affairs during Julia’s illness. But now his fears about the play came rushing back. He’d let Ben preach for two Sundays and this was the result. Ben had completely ignored his wishes.
The door opened. Two women left the building deep in conversation, and didn’t look up until they almost collided with Matthew and Ellie.
“Reverend. Mrs. Craig,” one of them stammered. “So sorry for your loss.”
The second woman nodded, and they hurried down the steps leading from the board sidewalk to the street.
Ellie stared after them. “They act like we’ve got the typhoid.”
“That’s the Sims sisters. You know how they are.” Matthew pushed up his hat and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll pay a call on them next week and find out what the trouble is.”
When they entered the store, Ben greeted them from behind the counter. “Good to see you out, Mrs. Craig. What can I get for you today?”
“I’m looking for some calico to make a summer dress for . . .” Ellie’s voice faltered.
Concerned, Matthew rested a hand on her shoulder.
She swallowed audibly. “For Maria. And I need some kitchen supplies, as well.” Ellie handed Ben a list and moved toward the back of the store where the dry goods were kept.
Matthew realized he’d been holding his breath, as though by not breathing he could direct all his energy on helping his wife through a painful moment. He exhaled with a whoosh and turned to Ben. “I see we’re still in disagreement over those folks bringing a play to Beldon Grove. You have a new handbill posted outside.”
“Aye-yuh.” Ben placed Ellie’s list beside the cash box. He met Matthew’s gaze. “Figured you had more important things on your mind than a fight with me over something that’s only going to last one night. Few more weeks they’ll be gone and none of us will be the worse for it.”
“Maybe the play will last one night, but what about the folks who’ll be exposed to evil beforehand with all this stagehand and seamstress folderol? Young girls could be led astray.”
As Ben opened his mouth to reply, Ellie called from the back of the room. “Mr. Wolcott, I need two dress lengths of this double pink calico.”
Ben shook his head at Matthew and lifted a long-bladed pair of shears from under the counter, then walked back to where rolls of fabric were displayed.
Matthew folded his arms and watched while his friend measured and cut the patterned cloth. No matter what Ben thought, Matthew knew he was right.
8
“Will you stop at Molly’s?” Ellie asked after Matthew untied Samson from the rail at the front of the store. “I
don’t feel I’ve properly thanked her for keeping the children for us after . . . well, for keeping the children.” She blinked back tears, grateful that the broad brim of her bonnet hid her face.
“Be glad to.” He turned Samson east toward Adams Street.
Ellie relaxed on the wagon seat, relishing the sunshine’s warmth soaking into her shoulders. A light breeze carried the scent of lilacs from beyond a picket fence fronting a white clapboard house at the corner. She made a mental note to ask Mrs. Carstairs for a start off her lilac bush. She’d plant it as a memorial—without mentioning that fact to Matthew. His refusal to talk about Julia told her more strongly than words that he blamed her for their baby’s death.
After tapping on the frame of the open door to signal their presence, Matthew and Ellie entered the Spengler cabin. The kitchen was deserted. An open box containing a cake of stove polish rested on the table, next to scattered brushes and a rag.
Agitated voices came from the direction of the room that housed Karl’s medical practice.
Ellie cocked her head. “That sounds like Molly. Let’s go around to the office.”
“I don’t know.” Matthew hesitated. “Maybe we should leave them be.”
“No. We’re here. I want to see Molly.” She turned just as the door at the end of the hallway banged open and Molly dashed toward them, sobbing. Karl strode a few paces behind her, distress written on every line of his face.
For a moment, Ellie stood rooted in place. Then she took a step toward her and laid one hand on her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s James. He’s run off to enlist in the militia.”
“No.” Ellie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Are you sure that’s where he’s gone?”
Karl replied for his wife. “No doubt about it. This week’s Monitor said Mexicans attacked our troops near the Rio Grande. As soon as James read that, all he could talk about was joining up.” He grasped Molly’s shoulders and drew her to his side. “Show them the note.”
Sniffling, she took a wrinkled sheet of paper from her apron pocket and handed it to Ellie.
Dear Mama and Papa Karl.
I can’t abide seeing our great country threatened. Me and two other fellows are heading to Texas to join in the fight against Mexico. Please don’t be worried. You know how good I am with a rifle. I will write to you when circumstances allow.
Your son James
“Oh, Molly.” Ellie gazed into her sister-in-law’s anguished eyes, then read through the note once more, hoping she’d missed something. Texas again. It takes men and doesn’t give them back. She returned the note to Molly. “How long has James been gone? Maybe you could catch up to him, bring him home.”
Karl shook his head. “He’s got a goodly start on us. He told us he was going to help with the planting on Russells’ farm and wouldn’t be home for a couple of days. Then a few minutes ago Molly found that message under the stove black.” Karl’s eyes narrowed. “James knew she wouldn’t be cleaning the stove until today. He and Billy Russell must’ve had this planned. I’m surprised Billy’s pa didn’t stop them.”
Tears slid down Molly’s cheeks. “He probably told them he had our permission.”
Ellie closed her eyes and fought off the desire to weep with her. Once started, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Your other children will be home from school soon,” Matthew said. “You’ll only upset them, carrying on like this.”
Karl rested his chin on the top of Molly’s head. “That’s what I told her.”
Matthew’s remonstrance grated on Ellie’s ears. Leaning close to Molly’s ear, she whispered, “I know how you feel. Go ahead and cry.”
Molly cast her a grateful glance, but took a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes. She looked at Matthew. “Karl knows the girls will be upset anyway. Luellen in particular. She idolizes her big brother.”
“I’m afraid Franklin will think he’s already a hero,” Karl said. He stroked Molly’s hair. “We’ll have to find some way to take the glory out of James’s enlistment without overly frightening our daughters.” He seemed to be talking to himself as much as to the group.
Matthew moved next to Karl. “There’s nothing we can do right now to make James come home. But we can all join together in asking the Lord to be with him and protect him.”
Ellie’s mind slid sideways while he prayed. Besides considering James’s whereabouts, she thought of her possible brothers and sisters living in Texas. Lord, keep them safe if the fighting comes to their door. Give me the chance to know my family.
A week later, Jimmy and Johnny banged into the kitchen after school, their auburn hair wet with sweat. Ellie turned from the stove and smiled at the twins. Their enthusiasm for life lit the room like a row of candles.
“You look like you ran all the way home. Where’s Harrison and Maria?”
Between gasps for breath, Johnny said, “They’re down the road a ways. We wanted to be first to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Jimmy pushed in front of his twin. “Franklin’s got a job.”
Elbowing him to one side, Johnny said, “As a stagehand.”
“For that play,” both boys said together. They made the word “play” sound like their cousin had hired on in Hades itself.
“Oh my word.” Ellie dropped into her rocking chair.
“What do you think Papa will say?” Johnny asked.
“I have no idea.”
Yesterday’s sermon had hit on the evils of make-believe, and stage plays in particular. Matthew had thrown in references to the temptations performers placed in the path of vulnerable young people. She leaned forward in the chair and contemplated his possible reaction. Was the play really all that important to him? Or had he got himself out on a limb and was too stubborn to back down? She wished she knew.
Ellie paced to the window and stared out, arms folded across her chest, while the twins each dipped a cup of water from the crock next to the wall. Waiting for Matthew’s response was like seeing clouds on the horizon. A storm was coming—she just didn’t know how serious it would be.
Jimmy pulled a chair out from the table and straddled it, facing her. “Papa told us to help him with the corn soon’s we got home. D’you think we should tell him?”
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’ll hear about it sooner or later.”
After the boys bolted down slices of bread and honey and finished their water, they loped off to the cornfield with more eagerness than they might normally show. Ellie returned to the stove, wondering what could have motivated Molly and Karl to allow Franklin to become a part of a production that Matthew so vehemently opposed.
When he came inside for supper, his eyes snapped with anger. “The twins told me about Franklin. How could Karl and Molly do that to me?”
Ellie turned. “To you? I doubt you entered into it. This must be something Franklin wanted. They have to consider their children first.”
“Since when do we do what our children want? We’re the parents.” His damp hair stood out from his scalp.
“Matthew, calm down.”
“I am calm.” He combed his hair back with his fingertips, then slid his chair away from the table and sat.
The children took their seats, eyeing their parents. Ellie placed a bowl of rabbit stew on the table, then thumped a pan of cornbread in front of Matthew.
“Will you say grace?”
While Ellie cleared the plates, Spenglers’ buggy rolled to a stop behind the house.
Maria ran to the door and flung it open. “Did you bring Lily?”
Molly and Karl climbed the steps to the porch. “Not this time,” Karl said. He poked his head inside the door and looked at Matthew. “I expect I need to throw my hat in first.”
“Won’t be necessary. You’re welcome.” His voice sounded gruff.
Ellie glanced from one man to the other. Matthew’s jaw was set in a tight line and Karl looked equally determined.
/> “Bedtime, Maria.” She watched while her daughter dawdled her way up the stairs and then turned back to their guests. “Do sit down, please. There’s coffee left from supper if you want some.”
Karl shook his head. “Not now. Thanks.”
Matthew waited in silence until they were settled, then focused an outraged glare on Molly. “Of all people in Beldon Grove, how could you, my own sister, allow your son to be a part of this . . .” He grappled for a word. “This offense in God’s sight.”
Karl sat beside his wife, silent but obviously ready to speak up if she wanted him to.
Molly leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “First of all, I don’t agree with you about this play being an offense. I’ve listened to you, and I’ve listened to Mr. Wolcott, and find I agree with him.” She clasped her hands together. “Shakespeare is educational. They teach his works in colleges, Mr. Wolcott says.”
A muscle twitched at the corner of Matthew’s mouth. “By the time a young man is in college, he knows right from wrong. Franklin is, what? Fourteen? Hardly old enough—”
“We had to do something. He’s been talking of running off to fight alongside James.”
Ellie gasped. “Franklin going to war! God forbid.”
“I agree,” Karl said. “That’s why we said yes when he asked if he could take this stagehand job.” He tucked an arm around Molly’s waist. “He’ll unload wagons and drag props around until he’s worn out, and maybe it will help him settle down.”
Molly reached across the table and grasped Matthew’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know how strongly you feel about this, but we’re talking about my son. I’ll do anything to keep him at home.”
“We hoped you wouldn’t take it too hard,” Karl said, “seeing as Aunt Ruby is already involved.”
