“Mr. Jones and I have nothing further to say to each other.”
Mr. Finch’s cheeks reddened, and he had the air of someone who could barely keep his temper in check. “Miss Whittaker,” he said with some emphasis. “You’re confusing me with someone else. My name is Finch.”
“In Concord, I dare say it is,” Miss Whittaker replied. She seemed to have recovered her equanimity.
Marmee tapped her watch impatiently, so Louisa wasted no more time and ran toward her, away from a most uncomfortable reunion.
“Where have you been, Louisa?” Marmee asked as they set off at a brisk pace toward the train station. “Who were you talking to?” Although she could still read without spectacles, Marmee’s eyesight was not good for long distances. Little May skipped ahead, clutching a bag of treats.
“Miss Whittaker,” Louisa answered, making a split-second decision not to worry Marmee about Mr. Finch. “She caught me on the street.”
“Miss Whittaker is very fast,” agreed Marmee with a wicked glint in her eyes.
With an answering grin, Louisa said, “You should see how quickly she can trap Mr. Emerson in his own study!”
“At least he tries to run. Your father surrenders willingly!”
“Marmee!” Louisa said, laughing, but disconcerted at the same time.
“None of that, young lady.” Marmee waggled a finger at Louisa. “You know as well as I do that your father’s fatal flaw is not a woman but the promise of publication. Miss Whittaker is tempting him with this magazine of hers.”
Louisa nodded thoughtfully, and after a moment told her mother everything Miss Whittaker had said about her magazine. “Do you really believe she’s raised so much money?” Louisa asked.
Marmee shrugged. “As long as we don’t owe anything, I don’t care. But I won’t hold my breath waiting for her to pay your father. Louisa, in this world, you have to depend . . .”
“On yourself,” Louisa finished. “I know, Marmee. But you can depend on me. I’ll make sure Father doesn’t lose his head or his purse.”
The train depot was in sight now. Far in the distance, they could hear the whistle of the train to Boston. From Boston, Marmee would take a stagecoach to New Hampshire. Louisa started to say something to her mother about the train being on time, when she realized that her mother was wrestling with some private concern. Finally she spoke. “Louisa, I don’t know how to ask you this . . .”
“Just ask, Marmee. I’ll do anything.”
“I trust your father completely, but . . . Miss Whittaker is persistent.” Marmee’s back was rod straight, and a flush started at the hollow of her neck and went to her hairline.
Louisa impulsively threw her arms around her mother. “I’ll make certain that Miss Whittaker’s visits are always chaperoned. I won’t give her the chance to compromise Father.”
Marmee clutched her close, then pushed her away, keeping her hands on Louisa’s shoulders and looking her straight in the eyes. “My darling Louy. I ask so much from you. I’m so proud that you’re able to take on all these challenges. I only wish you didn’t have to grow up so fast.”
“Marmee, if I can lighten your burden, I don’t mind.” Louisa lifted her chin, letting Marmee’s praise buoy her.
A long, plaintive whistle announced the train’s arrival. The next few minutes were a blur of loading trunks, presenting tickets, and lifting May into the train. Before Marmee climbed into the train car, she pressed a note into Louisa’s hand. Then Marmee said her farewells and the train puffed away. May waved from the window. A small stream of disembarking passengers headed into town on foot or in carriages.
Louisa unfolded the note. Marmee had poured all her confidence in Louisa onto the page. She suggested Louisa write every day as a safety valve to her strong emotions. But above all, Louisa should have faith in herself.
Alone, Louisa walked toward home. Marmee was right: Louisa was capable. And it was time to show everyone, especially the ones who doubted her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With the delightful enthusiasm of youth,
they took the solitary boy into their midst and
made much of him, and he found something very
charming in the innocent companionship of
these simple-hearted girls.
Louisa took back paths home, picking her way across bogs. It would have been quicker to take the main road, but what waited for her at home except chores and responsibilities? As she walked, she thought about Marmee speeding toward adventure while Louisa had to stay at home. How was she to write interesting stories if she never went anywhere or met anyone?
She cut through Mr. Emerson’s extensive orchards until she reached the Alcotts’ stand of apple trees. From there she could just glimpse their house and the occasional traffic on the main road to Lexington.
Louisa heard the sound of chopping before she saw her father wielding an axe on an apple tree that had been struck dead by lightning a few months ago. She smiled, thinking how the wood would burn sweetly in the fire after it sat for a bit. Although her father refused to work for anyone else, he never shirked his duties at home. He loved farming and carpentry, welcoming the opportunity to put his theories into practice. This meant that their house was filled with unusual features, like indoor showers. On the other hand, Marmee and her daughters had to surreptitiously grow potatoes because Father mistrusted root vegetables. He preferred produce that didn’t grow under the ground. Since apple trees reached for the heavens, he considered them a purer fruit.
The axe lifted high, then swung down to remove a large branch. Without a pause, the axe came up again. Another branch fell to the earth. She cocked her head, wondering at how quickly her father was working. She drew closer and saw with surprise it wasn’t her father. It was George, dressed in her father’s working clothes and leather gloves and even his floppy straw hat, a gift to Bronson from Henry Thoreau. Even if Finch were stupid, which he wasn’t, George was just asking to be noticed.
Louisa carefully scanned the fields and relaxed ever so slightly when she didn’t see any curious eyes. Quickly, she drew close and called out, “Hello, George.”
He turned quickly, holding the axe with both hands across his body, ready to strike. “Miss Louisa—I’m sorry.” He lowered the weapon. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
“No, George, it is I who is sorry—I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you,” she reassured him. “But you can’t be out here, George. It’s not safe.”
“I asked your father if there was anything I could do. He suggested this.” He indicated a pile of branches, all grotesquely twisted and bent. Louisa realized the wood wasn’t for firewood at all. “He wants them for a building project,” George went on.
Louisa pushed down a surge of anger. How could her father be so stupid? Even disguised, George was working out in the open, where any passerby might notice him chopping wood on the Alcott land. “My father was mistaken. You have to go back to the barn. Now.”
George opened his mouth to say something, then saw her face and remained silent. He collected the axe. Louisa said, “Wait here. I’ll make sure the road is empty before you come closer.” She ran to the stone wall that set off their orchard from the road and checked in both directions. There was a solitary man heading her way, but he was too far to see them clearly. They had enough time. She waved an arm, and George loped across the road to their garden and into the barn.
“You must stay hidden,” she said as she opened the secret door to his hidden room.
“Anything you say, Miss Louisa,” he said.
“I haven’t forgotten my promise to bring you a book. I think you’ll like Robinson Crusoe.” She grinned. “What we Alcotts lack in material wealth, we make up for in books.”
George hesitated, then asked, “Have you any news of my family?” He didn’t try to hide his worry.
“The Conductor says four or five days. That’s all I know.”
He closed his eyes and his lips moved in silent pray
er.
“So you must keep yourself safe until they come.” Louisa paused, then continued in a whisper. “The man you warned me about—he’s here. His name is Finch and he suspects us of being part of the Railroad.”
“I saw a man watching your house this morning,” he said. “Very early. I had gone out to . . . relieve myself . . .”
On pins and needles, Louisa asked, “Did he see you?”
He shook his head. “No, he was watching the house, not the barn. I told Mr. Alcott first thing this morning.”
“He didn’t think to mention it to me,” Louisa said, barely containing her bitterness. Father was going to have to learn to trust her, or George might pay with his freedom. And maybe the Alcotts, too.
“If this Finch thinks you’re hiding me, it’s not safe for any of us.” George’s eyes were full of concern. “I don’t want to bring trouble to your house.”
“He thinks I may know something. He’ll be watching me. So from now on, I will lead him on a chase away from the barn. My sister Beth will take care of your meals.” Louisa placed her hand on his arm. “Rest easy; we won’t give you away.”
“Of course not, Miss Louisa. I have faith in you.” His simple words warmed her heart as much as Marmee’s had. “Besides, I’ve come too far to be caught now.”
“But mind that you be careful. Don’t show yourself.” She paused. “Even if Father says it is safe.”
Bidding George farewell, Louisa left the barn. Her home glowed in the afternoon sun. The hill rising behind the house was called Revolutionary Ridge, a name that conjured blood and death, but these days the hill hummed with new life and the promise of summer. The garden was filled with every shade of new green and dozens of birds flitted about the sky, carrying twigs for their nests. Even her industrious woodpecker was trying to drill a hole in the chicken coop. Louisa sympathized. She would have to work just as hard as the tireless bird to feed all the mouths in her care.
The man coming down the road from town was closer now but not so close that he could have seen George. She watched out of curiosity, wondering who he was.
He wore a dark coat and a soft felt hat and carried a suitcase and bouquet of flowers. Not a farmer, she thought, and he didn’t have the air of a merchant, either. She wondered if he had arrived by the train. He walked like a young man, but he was too far away for her to distinguish his features. Louisa felt that there was something familiar about the way he moved, but she could not place the recollection.
Slowly she circled the house, keeping out of sight, to stand in the shadow of the front porch. With all the secrets going on around town these days, she told herself, it only made sense to pay close attention to strangers.
As the man reached Hillside, he stopped. She stiffened, watching him carefully. Louisa caught a glimpse of his profile. He looked a bit like Fred, a very distant cousin who often stayed summers with the Alcotts. Fred was like a brother to Louisa; he had been a dear companion who was game for any adventure, even if he couldn’t always keep up with her when they ran in the woods. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year, since he went away to school. Although this man resembled Fred, he was taller and broader.
The young man made his decision and unlatched the gate with a resolve that Fred could never manage. Approaching the door, he rubbed the back of his neck.
Louisa let out a sharp exhalation of recognition. Only Fred had that particular mannerism. But how he had changed since last summer!
“Fred?” Louisa stepped out from her hidden alcove, startling him. “Fred, is that you?”
He started toward her. “Louisa?”
“It is you!” she cried in delight. She stepped toward him, arms held out in welcome. Then she checked herself. Her friend Fred had been a companion on a hundred walks in the woods or trips on the river. She could hug him, but this young man in a suit felt like a stranger.
Fred had no such qualms. He dropped his case and his bouquet. “Louisa, didn’t you recognize me?” he laughed. “Have I changed so much in a year?” He took her in his arms and swung her in an embrace that lifted her feet from the ground. His hat tumbled off, revealing an unmistakable head of curly red hair.
She slapped at his chest. “Put me down. When did you grow so tall that you could spin me around like a top?” Finally he let her go. “How are you here, dear Fred?” She put her hand to her bodice to catch her breath. “Marmee didn’t say a word!”
“She doesn’t know. I’m so busy at the university that I hardly write anyone. But I had some free time, and no one else I’d rather spend it with than the Alcotts. So I boarded a train and here I am.” He grinned, revealing straight white teeth. “Now take me to the family. I cannot wait to see the expression on Marmee’s face.”
“But Fred, that’s just it,” Louisa exclaimed. “Marmee’s gone! She and May just left for the entire summer for New Hampshire. And Anne is gone teaching. It’s just me, Beth, and Father.”
His open face fell, but then he brightened again. “Well, I’ll just have to settle for you, then,” he said, teasing her with his large blue eyes. How disconcerting, she thought. Fred’s friendly eyes were exactly the same, but the rest of his face was much improved. How had she never noticed his perfectly straight nose?
“Come in, then,” she said, laughing.
He reached down and collected the flowers and presented them to her. She shook her head with a smile. “You must give them to Beth. She’ll appreciate your fine ways and little attentions.”
“Still the same Louisa, I see,” he teased. “Someday you have to grow up and be a young lady.”
“Not until I absolutely have to,” she retorted. “But Beth is plenty ladylike enough for both of us.”
“Did she get the sheet music I sent her at Christmas?” he asked, following her inside.
“She did. Marmee said what a clever gift it was because it made us all merry with her piano playing. Now put down that case and sit down.” She gave him a gentle shove into the parlor. “I’ll fetch everyone. Won’t they be surprised!”
Whirling around, she raced up the stairs, calling “Beth, Beth!” She burst into Beth’s room to find her sister resting in bed. “Come down, come down quick. There’s a surprise in the parlor for you! No, don’t bother to fix your hair. This surprise likes you just as you are!”
Like a gust of wind, Louisa blew out of the room in search of Father. She found him in the kitchen, sitting with his elbows on the table and his chin resting on his hands. When Louisa barged in, she stopped short at the look of misery in his eyes.
“Father!” she gasped. “Are you all right?”
He stood up suddenly, shoving the table away from him. “Of course I am. Louisa, why are you running around so wild? Haven’t I told you a dozen times that if you carry yourself in a constant tempest, you will never find peace in your mind?”
“Oh, Father, not a dozen. You’ve told me that at least a score of times,” Louisa said sourly. Their relations were always like this, she reflected. Every gesture on her part rebuffed. Every concern met with a scold. Nothing about her speech, her appearance, or her manners pleased him.
In the excitement of Fred’s arrival, she had forgotten that she had a bone to pick with her father. “Father, how could you tell George to go out in the orchard?”
“The poor man was restless, cooped up in that small room. I thought some physical activity would do him good. And I needed some of that twisted wood for the door I’m designing for Emerson.”
“It was foolish. There’s a slave catcher after him who will stop at nothing to find him. How long do you think it would take Finch to hear about a black man chopping wood for the Alcotts?”
“The orchard is on our property, set back from the road. It was perfectly safe,” Bronson defended himself. “And I don’t appreciate your tone. Anyone would think you were the adult here instead of an intemperate child.”
“George is my responsibility, and I’ll thank you not to get him caught because of your recklessness.”
“Louisa, your tone is disrespectful and—and rude,” he spluttered.
“I’m speaking my mind. I thought you valued self-expression, Father,” Louisa said, her words sweet with a touch of acid. “Oh, by the way, we have a visitor in the parlor.” She turned on her heel and left, ignoring his querulous voice asking who it was.
In the center of the parlor Beth was wrapped in Fred’s embrace, although, mindful of her delicate health, he stooped to keep her feet on the ground. When Bronson finally followed Louisa into the room, he bellowed, “Fred, old fellow, is that you returned to us at last?”
Placing Beth gently on the sofa, Fred turned and faced Bronson. Ducking his head with respect, he said, “Yes, sir. I’ve come back to you from university.” He stuck out his hand and Bronson shook it heartily.
“I want to hear all the nonsense they’ve put in your head and cure you of it,” Bronson said, smacking Fred on the back. “I never went to school, and I’m skeptical that they teach you anything you can’t get on your own with a life of honest labor and reflection. I hope you’ll stay.”
Fred’s ruddy face grew flushed. Glancing at Louisa, he said, “I had hoped to stay here at Hillside, but I just heard that Mrs. Alcott is away.”
“So? Your company will help us bear her absence.” Looking more closely at Fred’s embarrassed face, Bronson said, “Don’t think you’ll put us out. Louisa tells me constantly what an efficient housekeeper she is. One more mouth to feed won’t test her powers one bit, will it, Louisa?” he said with a malicious lift of one eyebrow.
“And I’ll be glad to help,” Beth called from the sofa.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Louisa assured him, all the while wondering how she was going to find food enough to feed the family, George, and a strapping young man like Fred.
“Then I’ll stay!” Fred said. “I’ve saved some money to put toward my board.”
Bronson began to say, “Nonsense, I won’t allow it,” but Louisa spoke over his words. “Why, thank you, Fred, that will be most welcome.”
The Revelation of Louisa May Page 6
