by Davis, Mary
Cinda watched as Martha stood and pulled down a branch, drinking in the sweet fragrance of the blossoms. Cinda hadn’t expected her to do that. Dewight’s words rolled around this vision of Martha. She, like the apple tree, would bloom. She was on the verge of her own spring, and bloom she would in her own time and her own way. Next, Cinda saw Martha racing off on Flash. She was afraid of nothing. Cinda decided not to worry any more over Martha’s impending womanhood. She might not have traditional feminine qualities, but she would have special qualities all her own.
Cinda’s reverie was interrupted by a sudden squawking of the chickens in the yard. She ran out to see what had them fussing so. She hoped it wasn’t a fox or something dangerous—the girls were out there playing. Daniella and Daphne were there indeed, watching their uncles, Trevor and Travis, duke it out. Why were they fighting? Determined to find out, Cinda marched over to them. She tried to get their attention by calling out their names. It was no use. What on earth would make them fight each other like this? Brother should not be fighting against brother. Not having any brothers or sisters, she knew siblings were something to be treasured.
Cinda stepped closer to them, ready to shout and command their attention. Before she could, one of them drew back a fist, catching her mouth with his elbow. At the same time the other one swung, grazing his brother’s face and popping Cinda in the cheekbone. Cinda’s hands flew to her face. Daniella and Daphne started screaming. Trevor and Travis froze in horror. When Cinda got over the initial shock, she went over to the little twins to calm their fears.
“I’m okay,” Cinda said to the weeping pair.
“You have a bleed,” Daphne screeched.
Cinda touched her mouth where the frightened girls were pointing. Sure enough, there was a little blood at the corner of her mouth. After she calmed the girls, she turned back to the stunned pair of fighters.
“Why’d you step into a fight like that?” Travis ventured to ask.
“Because I wanted to find out why the two of you were fighting.”
“He took my biscuit and ate it,” Trevor explained.
“If you would eat faster, then I wouldn’t have taken it,” Travis replied.
Cinda balled up her fists. “You mean to tell me that you two were fighting over a biscuit?” Two nearly grown men fighting like wild animals over a silly biscuit. “Get in the house, both of you, now.”
They immediately obeyed.
“Lucas is going to kill you,” one said to the other.
“Me? You hit her, too,” the other shot back, backhanding his brother in the chest. Unless facing them, she couldn’t tell them apart, but she could tell from the tone of their voices that they were genuinely scared about what Lucas would do to them when he found out.
“I didn’t know she was there. I couldn’t see her. You should have told me she was there.”
“It’s not my fault. I didn’t see her until it was too late.”
“We’re both going to get it.” They hung their heads.
Oh my. What would Lucas do? Travis and Trevor certainly hadn’t meant to hit her. She was the one at fault. Well, maybe they could be blamed a little for fighting in the first place. She would tell Lucas it wasn’t their fault, or she could just say she fell or something.
“Do you still want a biscuit?” Cinda asked Trevor once inside the house. Trevor gave a little nod. These two were like a pair of two year olds. She could deal with two year olds. Cinda set a full bowl of biscuits and another cookie sheet full of biscuits on the table. “Good. You and your brother get to eat biscuits. Every last one. Do I make myself clear?”
They both nodded and sat down. “Are you gonna tell Lucas what we done?” Trevor asked.
“Just what is it you two don’t want me to know you have done?” Lucas asked. He was just returning from town, no doubt hungry for his own lunch. He looked closely at his brothers and gave a half smile. “You two fighting again? Well, I guess it was only a matter of time. The peace couldn’t last forever.”
They stared wide-eyed at him. Cinda almost felt sorry for them.
“They fighted because Uncle Travis took Uncle Trevor’s food,” Daphne explained.
“And he ate it, too.” Daniella didn’t want to be left out of this exciting story. “Then they hit Cinda.”
“They did what?”
Cinda tried to escape into the kitchen, but Lucas caught hold of her arm and turned her to face him. He lifted her face to examine the damage. He studied the split in the left corner of her mouth and the shine on her cheek. Fire flashed in his eyes.
“Which one? Which one did this?” Lucas demanded. He turned to his brothers and brought his fist down on the table. “Which one of you?”
Oh, dear. What was Lucas going to do? There had been enough hitting for one day. “I did it,” Cinda said. “I was foolish enough to walk into the middle of a fight. I am the one to blame.”
“A man never hits a woman for any reason, ever!” Lucas was yelling. “I want you two outside. Now!”
“Sit down,” Cinda barked when they started to stand like sheep going to the slaughter.
“Stay out of this,” Lucas growled.
Though startled by Lucas’s gruffness, she couldn’t let him harm them. “I’ll not have brother fighting brother. That’s why this whole thing started. Unless you want to be the next one hitting me—”
Lucas spun around to face her. She flinched slightly. His face contorted. “I would never hit you.”
“If you raise a hand to either one of them, I will step in between you and them. You’ll have to knock me out of the way.” Cinda could feel the anger heat her face, and her voice trembled.
Lucas’s face was red as well and his nostrils flared. He stormed out of the house.
Cinda turned around to see two wide-eyed young men staring at her. “Eat,” she barked. They shoveled in the biscuits.
Shaken, Cinda went into the kitchen. She had never heard Lucas speak with such harshness to anyone. He hadn’t seemed upset that his brothers were beating on each other, so why had he gotten so angry?
A sudden realization hit her. He got mad when he learned they hit her.
❧
Lucas stormed out and grabbed the reins of his horse from where it was tethered to the hitching rail. He marched to the barn and threw open the door as hard as he could. It slammed against the wall. The horse nickered and pulled back.
“Come on, Boy.” Lucas pulled on the reins.
He led the hesitant horse into his stall and yanked at the strap to loosen the saddle. How could his foolish brothers get themselves in a position to hit Cinda? The thought of her hurt tore at him.
“What’s got you spittin’ nails?” Marty said behind him.
He spun around to see her leaning over the side of the stall. He glowered at her. She was no better.
She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I swear.”
He pointed at her. “Your brothers did.” He turned back to the horse. He had never before not claimed any of his siblings. He had spent his whole adult life looking after them and keeping them together. But right now he felt like there were a few too many Rawlings around. “Why can’t they solve their problems without using their fists?”
“They was fightin’?” Marty said astonished. “You’re riled up because they was fightin’? Since when?”
“They weren’t just fighting.” He yanked the saddle from the horse’s back, then flung it over the stall rail and brought his fist down on it. “They hit Cinda, both of them. She’s going to have a black eye and a fat lip.”
“Is that all?”
“Is that all!” he bellowed.
“A lot worse has happened to me in fights, and you never got this mad.”
Lucas ignored the hurt tone in her voice. “This is different.” He stomped over and grabbed a brush.
“Why? Because it’s sissy Cinderella. She’ll live.”
“Because she didn’t deserve it.” He sh
ook the brush at her with each word. “You, on the other hand, pick your fights.” He turned to the horse and made a long, quick stroke down his back with the brush, then shoved the brush in Marty’s hand. “Take care of my horse.” He strode out of the barn.
There was one too many Rawlings in the barn for his liking. He needed to be alone. Marty was right, of course. Cinda would be fine, but just the thought of her being hurt twisted his insides something fierce—not just because she was a woman to be protected and taken care of but because she was Cinda, his wife, whom he cherished and cared for. His insides twisted more when he recalled her flinching when he hollered. How could he have yelled at her? She wasn’t at fault. It was his pigheaded brothers he was angry with.
As he took off up the hill as fast as he could, he tried un-successfully to pray. He needed to run off some of his fury.
❧
Lucas was gone the rest of the day and didn’t show up for supper, and Trevor and Travis weren’t hungry after all those biscuits so they skipped supper. The meal seemed quiet with so many missing even though Daniella and Daphne couldn’t tell Martha enough times about Trevor and Travis hitting Cinda. Cinda just wanted to forget the whole horrible situation.
After supper, Trevor and Travis showed up to do the dishes. Lucas came in as well.
Cinda grabbed his plate. “I’ll fix you up some food.”
“I’m not hungry.” He motioned her toward the door and took her outside for their walk. They walked in silence around the yard and ended up at their usual spot by the corral.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you. It was my brothers I was mad at, not you.” Lucas didn’t look at her.
“It really was an accident. They didn’t know I was so close to them.”
“I know, they told me.”
“Oh, Lucas, you didn’t. . .hit them?”
He faced her. “No, I didn’t. And I wouldn’t have this afternoon either.”
“But you were so mad, I thought. . .”
“My brothers may talk with their fists from time to time, but I prefer not to. I was just going to talk to them. I wanted to know how they could get in such a fool position.”
“Just talk?” she questioned.
He smiled slightly. “All right. I would have yelled the roof off the barn, but I wouldn’t have hit them—not that they knew that for sure.”
“I don’t think they will be fighting again.”
“At least not anywhere near you,” Lucas said, and they both laughed.
Lucas became serious again. “Please know that I would never strike you.” His eyes were pleading with her. He held out his hand for her to take.
She took his hand and smiled. “I know.”
With his other hand he tilted her head up to look at her injuries. “Does it hurt much?”
“No, not really. A little when I smile. Your brothers knew just what to do. It seems they have had some experience tending these kinds of wounds.”
“They’ve had a lot of experience.” He gently touched the bruise on her cheek. His touch was so light it left her skin tingling. His eyes lowered to her split lip. He softly kissed the unharmed corner of her mouth.
She was once again surprised by the gentleness in this big, strong, proud man. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her in silence for a long while. She felt safe in his tight embrace.
Before falling asleep that night, she prayed.
Father God in heaven, I praise Thee for the grace you have bestowed on me and Thy loving mercy. Keep Daphne, Daniella, Lucas, Trevor, Travis, and Martha safe. . .and, oh yes, Dewight, too. I worry about him wandering off and getting hurt. Teach Travis and Trevor to settle their disagreements in a different way.
She paused and took a deep breath. I know I should be thankful for this family, but I can’t quite find the gratitude in my heart yet. Please continue to work in me. I always prayed for a large family. I never imagined this is how You would answer that prayer.
Lucas rolled over in his sleep and draped a muscular arm across her waist. Lucas is a good, kind man. I thank You for that. She yawned. I better end or I’ll fall asleep before I finish. One more thing, could You please do something about Martha? Amen.
sixteen
The rooster crowed, announcing the beginning of a new day. Cinda pulled the covers over her head. No, it couldn’t be morning already. Hadn’t she only just dropped into bed? Why were the noisy, chaotic days so long and the peaceful nights so short? She wanted to ignore the wake-up call. To sleep in just once would be so delightful, but she knew she couldn’t do that. Lucas was already up milking the cow and would expect to greet her as he always did when he came in the kitchen with the pail of milk and a kiss. Then everyone else would slowly get up and the day would be underway, not stopping until after dark when it was time to fall back into bed.
Today she wanted to finish the church dresses for Daniella and Daphne, shirts for Lucas and Travis needed mending, and Trevor had a pair of pants that required a patch. Keeping the house clean was a constant battle. The kitchen floor definitely needed a good scrubbing. Then there were the daily chores of cooking and keeping up with a pair of active five year olds.
Cinda readied herself and went down to the dreary kitchen. Although she had cleaned it several times, it still looked dull. She had made some yellow gingham curtains to cheer up the window, but the rest of the kitchen was still drab. The broken and uneven shelves still wobbled. She had attempted to fix them but only ended up with a battered thumb and frazzled nerves. As soon as Lucas was not so busy, she would ask him to fix them. He’d already had so many burdens placed on him from such a young age, but never once did she hear him complain nor would she.
She wanted to do a little decorating to make the house seem more homey, but there was never time. Today would be no different.
Martha was the first one down. “What’s for breakfast, Cinderella?”
Cinda took a deep breath. “I’ll make a deal with you. You call me by my name, Cinda and I will call you Marty instead of Martha.”
Marty looked at her for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders on her way out of the kitchen.
After a noisy breakfast, Cinda sat down and completed the mending and sewing while Daniella and Daphne played quietly at her feet. It was a nice change from their usual squabbling. Lunch was noisy as well but uneventful. Afterward, Cinda worked on the kitchen floor. With Daniella and Daphne outside with their aunt and uncles, she finished the task in no time.
Suddenly Cinda found herself with what looked like an hour to herself before she should start supper. She spent about ten minutes walking around the house making a list of the things needed to spruce up the place—curtains, doilies, maybe a rug for the sitting room. Then she settled herself in the rocking chair in the sitting room. She sighed. It was good to get off her feet and rest. She picked up a book she had been wanting to read, one she had started several weeks ago when she had a spare minute but hadn’t been able to get back to until now. This was her chance to escape to another world for a little while. Even Dewight’s annoying ramblings wouldn’t spoil her solitude.
She reread the beginning to refresh her memory. Just as she became engrossed in the story, however, chaos sounded in the kitchen. Cinda ran in and found a muddy piglet and two muddy five year olds scrambling across her clean floor.
Daphne and Daniella squealed as much as the pig. Their mud-drenched clothes sprayed everything as the girls spun around, chasing the pig.
Cinda’s first thought was to stop the flying mud. The only way to do that was to stop that grubby swine. As the squealing hunk of ham came toward her in the doorway, threatening to muddy the rest of the house, she reached for it. She fell half on it, capturing it in her grasp. “Somebody take this thing,” she said, stunned by what she had done.
Marty waltzed in and took the piglet from Cinda. “Sorry, Cinderella. It just got loose,” she said with a shrug.
Cinda clenched her fists. She was not Cinderella and obviously the chat she had with Marth
a this morning fell on deaf ears or a cold heart. Then there was her floor. Her beautifully clean floor now was smeared with mud. The cupboards were splattered as well. She gritted her teeth. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, she rattled off as fast as she could under her breath.
Lucas blocked Martha’s escape. He surveyed the muddy scene and took the piglet and pointed to the twins. “See to it that those two get cleaned up.”
“But Travis was the one who let them play with Chuckie.”
“Now! Take them down to the creek and get as much mud off as you can.” Lucas left no room for argument.
Martha huffed and held out both her hands. Daniella and Daphne each claimed one.
Lucas left with the pig, leaving Cinda sitting on the dirty floor in a muddy dress. If she got started right away, she would be done in time to fix supper.
She got a scrub brush and filled a pail with water. Her arms and shoulders were still sore from cleaning it the first time. Well at least she would be off her feet. Tears stung her eyes.
Just when she thought she had a moment to herself, it had been viciously ripped away. Cinda clenched her fists and growled. “I can’t take it any longer. There’s always one more thing to do, no one to talk to, no one to confide in, no one to lean on.” She rubbed her hand on the muddy floor. Frustration boiled under the surface. “Does the dirt never end?” She slapped the floor and blinked as a mist of mud sprayed her face.
Cinda angrily scanned her dismal surroundings. She marched over to the shelves. Afraid to put anything on them for fear they would fall down completely, she lifted the edge of one rotting board and let it drop on its support. The support pulled out of the side board. Cinda jumped slightly as the shelf crashed to the bottom. “Kindling, that’s all they’re good for.”
Still fuming, she surveyed the entire kitchen. “A kitchen without a pantry is like a house without a roof. This is pathetic. There isn’t a mixing bowl left that isn’t chipped and cracked.” She looked at the dented and bent metal plates; pushing them aside, she shook her head. They had obviously been pounded out a time or two. She held up two wooden spoons, the only cooking utensils. One had a piece missing and the other’s handle was broken. “What use are these?” How was she supposed to cook decent meals under these conditions? She glanced at the room as a whole. “This whole kitchen is a joke. One big joke,” she yelled, half laughing and half crying.
