by Davis, Mary
fourteen
After three days of chasing Daniella and Daphne, Cinda was at her wit’s end.
Just this morning she had read in the twenty-seventh Psalm, “Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice: have mercy also upon me, and answer me.” She had cried out for mercy and answers and felt as if God weren’t listening. In her loneliness and desolation, the Lord brought to mind a promise in Matthew, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” She had asked for guidance and was fervently seeking a solution. Where was the answer?
She studied the girls, trying to figure out why they had a change in demeanor. They had been compliant before and enjoyed helping her around the house. Now they were defiant and downright disobedient. Occasionally Daphne would look at her like she wanted to be with Cinda, but she re-mained glued to Daniella’s disobedient side. They refused to answer to Daniella and Daphne, only to Dani and Davey. They had been fine and enjoyable until—until Martha had been forced to stay behind. She was reaching back from the fields and interfering. Cinda turned thankful eyes to the Lord.
Cinda knew she had to break Martha’s hold on the girls. First she had to find out what Martha was holding over them, and Daphne was just the one to tell her.
The girls were still at the breakfast table. Everyone else had left for their day’s work. The twins were the last ones to finish, picking at their food. Cinda took hold of Daphne’s hand, helping her off the bench.
“Where are you taking my sister?” Daniella asked, alarmed.
“I just want to talk to her. You stay here,” Cinda said.
“No!” Daniella screamed, jumping off the other bench. “You can’t have her.” She came around and grabbed Daphne’s other arm. Daphne became the object of a tug of war and started crying.
Stunned by Daniella’s reaction, Cinda released the sobbing girl’s hand. Daniella draped herself around Daphne. Cinda put her arms around the stiff, crying pair.
“Oh, please don’t eat us,” Daphne wailed.
“Eat you? Why would you think I wanted to eat you?” Cinda asked, horrified that they would think such a thing.
“Because trolls eat little girls,” Daniella cried.
Trolls? “You think I’m a troll?”
The two bleary-eyed girls nodded.
“What makes you think that?”
“Aunt Marty said so,” Daniella said bravely.
Martha. She should have guessed. These two probably believe everything she says. “How could I be a troll? I’m much too tall for a troll, you know. They are no taller than this.” Cinda stood up and held her hand at shoulder height. For once she was glad she was so tall. “And they are this wide.” She held her arms out well beyond her sides. “Their hair is really short and curly.” Cinda took the pins from her hair and let it fall over her shoulder. “Any curl here?” She knelt down and held out her glossy hair to the girls to touch. They each caressed it gingerly, shaking their heads. “And trolls have long, pointy noses and drool all the time. Have you ever seen me drool?” They both shook their heads again. “Then how could I be a troll?” she concluded, holding her arms open. She wasn’t sure if they believed her.
Daphne rushed into Cinda’s embrace. Daniella held back with a pout.
“What’s wrong, Daniella? Do you still think I’m a troll?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want Mama to cry in heaven.”
“Your mama won’t cry.”
“Yes she will,” Daphne said emphatically, pushing away from Cinda. “She will think we don’t love her anymore.”
The poor girls had been so scared that they were denied love from the one person they were around all day. In Martha’s attempt to get at Cinda, she clearly hadn’t realized what she was doing to Daphne and Daniella. She couldn’t know the effects it was having on them. Martha loved those little girls, Cinda was sure of that. It was Cinda who Martha disliked—just why, Cinda wasn’t sure.
Cinda didn’t want to frighten them any more than they already were. She let them play in their room with their dolls the rest of the day.
Martha and her brothers returned early from the fields. They came in through the kitchen door.
“Martha, I would like to talk with you,” Cinda said, trying not to reveal her anger.
Martha completely ignored her and strode on by.
Cinda knitted her brows together. “Travis, would you stir this for me?” she asked, without even looking at him.
“I’m Trevor,” he said awkwardly. Cinda had asked them to correct her when she called them by the wrong name. She wanted to learn their right names and couldn’t do that if they allowed her to use the wrong name.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at him. If she had bothered to look at him before she spoke, she would have noticed his bangs down as Trevor always wore them. If they ever changed and wore their hair the same, she would be at a loss to tell them apart. “Trevor, could you stir this for me and not let it burn?” She absently plopped the wooden spoon in his hand and took off after Martha.
“Martha, let’s talk in your room where we won’t be bothered,” Cinda said.
Martha continued to pretend she didn’t exist, thumbing through a book.
“You can talk to the troll now or Lucas later.”
Martha’s head popped up, her eyes wide.
“Now,” Cinda commanded.
Martha silently stalked up to her room with Cinda on her heels. Martha crossed through her room and stared out the window.
Cinda closed the door firmly and stared at Martha’s defiant back. She was waiting for Cinda to say something. Cinda wasn’t sure where to begin. “How could you do it? How could you tell those sweet little girls I was trying to fatten them up to eat them?”
Martha shrugged her shoulders.
“Do you know that they have hardly eaten a thing in three days?”
Martha snapped around in surprise to look at Cinda. She was genuinely concerned.
“Yes, that’s right. They are the ones suffering, not me. They are scared to death all day with no one to comfort them be-cause you have taken that away from them. I know you don’t like me, but please leave them out of it.”
Martha could no longer hold Cinda’s stare. Obviously, she had never meant to hurt the girls.
Cinda let her words sink in awhile before continuing. “I don’t want to bring Lucas into this if I don’t have to, and I don’t think you want that either.” Martha shook her head. “Then you better convince those two I’m not a troll and won’t eat them. You better be so convincing they eat a hearty supper. Do you understand me?”
Martha nodded and made a move for the door.
“I’m not through with you yet. If they don’t eat well, I will talk to Lucas after supper.”
“I’ll tell them,” Martha said softly with downcast eyes.
“One more thing. Daniella and Daphne need all the tender loving care we can all give them. To make them think their mother is crying up in heaven because they hug me is hurting them as well. You let them know that no matter what they do, their mother and father will always love them. Always. Have I made myself clear?” Cinda’s words were stern and not to be questioned.
Martha nodded. “Yes,” she said barely above a whisper then jumped at the rap on the door.
“Marty, is Cinda in there?” came Lucas’s voice through the door.
Martha looked at the door in a panic, then she looked back at Cinda.
“Yes, Lucas, I’m in here,” Cinda called back and then opened the door. She smiled up sweetly at her husband, trying to douse the flames of anger she had felt moments before.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” Lucas said with uncertainty, looking from her to his sister and back again.
“You’re not interrupting a thing. Martha was just on her way to play with the girls before supper,” she said.
Martha took the hint and slipped past Lucas and Cinda without a word.
Lucas watched her go int
o the little girls’ bedroom. “What was that about?” Lucas asked, swinging his gaze back to Cinda.
“Girl talk.”
Lucas raised his eyebrows and smiled at the promising prospect. She swept past him and went down to check on supper.
Daniella and Daphne ate, but Martha spent the meal nervously watching them and Cinda. The days that followed, however, were filled with happiness and hugs for the two little girls. Martha seemed as relieved as Cinda.
Cinda focused a lot of her attention on the girls. She made new dresses for their dolls, replaced the yarn hair, and drew new faces with almond-shaped eyes, long lashes, and smiling mouths. She opened a jar of cherries they would have at supper and painted the lips red.
Next it was time to get back to the chore of scrubbing the house and making curtains. Cinda took the girls and Dewight into town to buy some scrub brushes and window fabric. Cinda also bought fabric for two more dresses for each of the girls. Dewight disappeared when they got into town and magically reappeared when Cinda was ready to leave. Cinda was grateful for the break from his annoying, nonsensical rambling.
No one was really sure of Dewight’s real name, but someone in town thought he might be a man who once had a place in the hills. They thought the man’s name was Dewight and his homestead burned to the ground some thirty years ago, killing his family. He’d been wandering ever since.
❧
“Ooooo,” Daphne sighed.
“It’s soooo prettiful,” Daniella crooned.
The girls were eyeing a white handkerchief with a delicate lace border it that Cinda had put up as a prize for the best wall scrubber. Armed with scrub brushes and a pail of soapy water, the girls went to work. They each had a wall to scrub and Cinda cleaned the other two walls in their little room. Cinda helped them reach the high areas but they worked diligently for an hour. Each would check out how the other was doing, then go back to her wall and work harder. Cinda had finished two walls and half the floor when both girls were finally satisfied.
Cinda studied both walls carefully. They had both done such a good job she couldn’t reward one and not the other. “It seems as though we have a tie.”
“A tie?” Daphne asked, raising her eyebrows up and down, and up and down again.
“I don’t want a tie. I want the handkerchief,” Daniella whined.
“A tie means you both win. Let me find another prize.”
“But I don’t want another prize. I want the prettiful handkerchief,” Cinda heard one of them say on her way out. She was certain it was Daniella.
Cinda returned a minute later with her hands in her pockets. She pulled out the white handkerchief with the lace from one pocket and handed it to Daniella. She snatched the handkerchief from Cinda’s hand and said to Daphne in an encouraging tone, “You get the other prize.”
From her other pocket Cinda removed a lavender handkerchief with a purple iris embroidered in one corner.
Daphne’s eyes got as round as her mouth. “Ooooh. It’s beautiful.” She cuddled it to her face. “I love it.”
They raced each other to the barn, trying to be the first one to show Lucas. When Cinda caught up with them, Lucas was praising their work and complimenting their dainty prizes. He looked up at Cinda adoringly. His eyes sparkled with a hint of moisture. She could tell he was pleased, and it warmed her heart that he cared so much. This big, strong fortress of a man seemed as soft as a baby chick on the inside.
❧
Two nights later Daniella and Daphne came to the table after everyone was seated. Lucas had had them doing something for him. After supper they made Cinda close her eyes. When she opened them, before her sat a cake with a single lit candle and a wrapped present.
“What’s this for?” Cinda asked, confused.
“It’s your birthday, May seventeenth,” Lucas said.
Cinda was astonished. Had time really passed so swiftly that it was her twenty-fourth birthday already? She had been there for a month and a half. “How did you know?”
“I asked Allison on the train platform before we left.” Lucas held her gaze for a long moment.
“Open your present,” Daphne begged.
“No, blow out the candle,” Daniella countered.
“We have to sing first,” Daphne corrected.
After a round of “Happy Birthday,” the candle was extinguished and Cinda untied the green ribbon from the gift.
“The ribbon is for your hair. It matches your eyes. That’s what Uncle Lucas said.” Daniella rubbed the ribbon.
Cinda glanced up at Lucas and gave him a smile of ap-proval. He could be so thoughtful. She looked at the gift and peeled back the paper. It was a small ceramic jewel box like her mother’s, the one that had broken in transit. Cinda bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears.
“See, we told you Uncle Lucas could fix anything,” Daphne said.
“He certainly can,” she said and looked at him not only with her eyes but with her heart as well. She felt something there. Could it be love?
“Open it,” Daniella called out.
Cinda raised the lid slowly. Inside was a single strand of pearls, just longer than choker length.
“They belonged to my mother,” Lucas said apprehensively.
That was it. The dam burst and the tears flowed freely. “They’re beautiful,” Cinda murmured through quivering lips.
Martha got up swiftly and stormed out of the house.
“What’s her problem?” Travis asked, clueless.
Cinda had seen that loathsome look on Martha many times, but just now she finally understood it. The girl was jealous and hurt of the time and attention Lucas showed Cinda. Lucas was more like a father than a brother to Martha, and now Papa had a new bride. She was no longer the only woman in his life. Cinda unknowingly was taking everything that was hers—her brother, her nieces. . .her pearls. She had expected to get her mother’s pearls; she had never thought they would be given to a stranger. One day Cinda would relinquish them to her. Martha’s caring about something as feminine as a string of pearls was a glimpse of the woman hidden deep within.
Lucas came around the table and put the pearls around Cinda’s neck. “Thank you,” was all Cinda could manage.
fifteen
That night Cinda and Lucas took their usual walk. Cinda couldn’t keep her hand from fingering the pearls. He had been so thoughtful from the beginning to think to inquire about her birthday, then to surprise her with a cake and such thoughtful gifts. This was just like the kind of romantic love she read about in so many books. Could this big, strong man really love her? Or was he just grateful she was raising his nieces to be ladies? She liked to think that maybe he could love her. . .someday.
They stopped at their usual spot next to the corral. After a moment of silence Lucas said, “Do you know what’s the most beautiful sight to a man?”
His wife? she hoped. “What?”
“The land he owns stretched out before him,” he said, making a sweeping gesture with his arm, “growing green and lush. It’s your land, too, now. Isn’t it a wondrous sight?”
Cinda, disappointed, looked out at the swaying green land. To her it was just a green field like so many others she had seen. Nothing special about it. She supposed she had read too many romance stories where the man falls in love with a woman and can’t live without her. Real life wasn’t like that. She should be happy to have a good man with whom to grow old.
She had seen love. David and Allison certainly loved one another. Alvin was in love with Vivian. Eve loved men—period. And Cinda’s father had loved her mother with his whole heart. He loved her so much that life without her was impossible. Yes, a deep lasting love did happen in real life, but it was reserved for a precious few. She felt fortunate to have seen such a devoted love in her parents, but for her it was unlikely. How could it be with everything happening around here? Except for their short nightly walks, Cinda and Lucas were rarely alone or spoke to each other. His days were filled with caring for the f
ields, the livestock, and providing for everyone. Her days were filled with two active little girls and enough household chores to keep her busy for a lifetime. No, there would be no time for love here.
That night Cinda took off the pearls and put them in her new jewel box with her mother’s cameo, her mother’s wedding band, and a small emerald ring her uncle had given her on her eighteenth birthday. She knew there would be very little opportunity to wear any of them. She had worn her mother’s cameo only once since the day she arrived. If she were back home, she would have had many occasions to wear each of them.
❧
Cinda had heard Trevor, Travis, and Martha talking about Dewight’s odd behavior. Travis said they had never seen so much of Dewight. Normally, he would disappear for days at a time except in the dead of winter. That was the only time he generally stayed close to the farm. Trevor said he was acting different because Cinda always set a place for him at the table. He knew he was welcome with her.
Cinda thought Dewight was odd indeed but not for the same reasons the others thought so. They seemed not to notice his talking to himself and not making sense, or maybe they just ignored it. Cinda couldn’t ignore it when she was around it so much.
“The apple tree always blooms in spring. Always in the spring,” Dewight mumbled as he came in through the kitchen door, walked through the dining area and out the front door.
Cinda could only stare after him. He seemed to have a purpose in coming in with his message and back out again, but even the little twins ignored him. He had carved each of them a beautiful wooden pony, and that said to Cinda that he didn’t have the mind of a crazy man. What he did, he did with purpose. It only made sense that what he said, he said with purpose.
Cinda looked at the apple tree already losing blooms, sprinkling petals in Martha’s short, dark curls as she sat below its limbs. Sure enough, it bloomed in the spring. She wondered if in the summer he would mention the fruit, and in the fall the leaves turning, and in the winter the bare branches. Maybe he was just a senile old man ranting.
