by B. K. Birch
Willow didn’t work much in the fields anymore. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, she just preferred to stay behind and help Ma with the women’s work, which was actually harder than being in the field, or so Jordan thought. Every day, she and Ma milked the cows, gathered the eggs, fed the chickens, churned the butter, and did the washing. Ma also put Willow in charge of gathering the maple sap this year.
Grandma spent most of her time either sitting in her chair watching everyone else work or off gathering roots, berries, and leaves for her healing. She said was too slow to do any fieldwork but Jordan didn’t agree. She did come in pretty handy around the end of July when it was time to snap beans.
His mouth watered as the aroma of bacon filled the house. No one had gotten the eggs yet, so they’d probably just have bacon, gravy, and the biscuits left over from supper, which were warming in a pan on the stove.
Eamon sauntered into the kitchen just as the sun peeked over the treetops to the east. He grabbed the ladle and performed the same mouth cleansing ritual Jordan had done earlier.
“Bout time you got up,” Jordan teased.
“Go to hell!” Eamon scoffed.
“Eamon Daniel Sinclair!” Ma yelled and smacked him in the back of head.
The sheer force of the blow knocked Eamon off balance. Water poured down the front of his shirt. Jordan giggled.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you standing there,” Eamon said while he rubbed the back of his head.
“I’ll not have you talking foul in my house,” she scolded and handed him a towel.
“Yes ma’am,” Eamon said.
“Uncle Tate cusses and you don’t yell at him,” Jordan said. He covered his mouth with his hand, as if the words spilled over his tongue and out his lips before he could stop them.
“Don’t be a smart mouth or I’ll smack you too,” Ma said. “Besides, he don’t come around here no more now does he?”
Willow, Jake, and Selie straggled into the kitchen moments later and it was obvious that Willow had woken them up. Selie couldn’t stop yawning and Jake staggered to a chair, leaned on his elbow, and stared wide-eyed at the floor, not caring that his hair was going every which direction.
Selie stood in front of Willow while she combed and braided her hair. She leaned over and raked the comb through Jake’s hair. He was still too engrossed with the floor to fight her off.
Pa walked through the kitchen door just as they sat down to eat. He poured some water into a basin and washed his hands. They never waited for Grandma. She only ate supper with the family.
“Where’s the rag?” he asked.
Ma tossed him one she had draped over her shoulder.
“Jordan, what did you do to your hand?” Pa asked.
“I burned it earlier,” Jordan said. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he would have kept it hidden under the table, except it was the hand he used to eat.
“You’re always getting hurt,” Eamon said.
“Leave that bandage on while you’re on the plow,” Finnian said. “Don’t need it getting infected.”
“I have plenty of witch hazel,” Ma said.
Please, no witch hazel. The mere thought of rubbing that stinging, smelly liquid on his raw flesh sent shivers through him. Thank goodness it wasn’t serious enough for Grandma’s medicine.
“Put some on before we go,” Pa said. “No use taking any chances.”
Dang it!
Finnian pulled out his chair at the head of the old wood table. They held each other’s hands and bowed their heads for their morning prayer.
“You’ll need this,” Ma said and tossed a block of gray-white lye to Jordan. He wanted to run ahead with the other boys but he couldn’t leave Selie behind. Willow never joined them at the creek anymore. She was a lady now and preferred to wash in the tub at the house.
Jordan liked to get his bath out of the way before he played in the water. Time passed quickly when they swam and Ma got angry when they didn’t come to dinner on time. Also, there was too much risk the soap would sink and conceal itself among the rocks littered on the creek bed and then he’d have to listen to Willow whine about the time she spent making the soap and how he’d be more careful if he had to make it.
Eamon and Jake were already splashing in the water by the time Jordan and Selie made it to the creek bank. Selie struggled over the rocks in her tender bare feet. Jordan helped her with the buttons on her dress and laid it up on a rock so it wouldn’t get wet. She tiptoed in wearing only her pantaloons.
Jordan stripped down to his drawers and dashed into the icy cold creek, splashing Selie as he ran. She squealed and stiffened her back.
The water soothed the raw spot on his palm. The bandage had fallen off about noon and the blister burst not long after.
Eamon and Jordan played keep away with the soap until Jake started crying and then they had to let him wash first just to shut him up. Jake threw the cake of lye to Jordan, but he missed and he had to dive after it.
Selie was always the last one to wash because that was normally when the soap made its escape to the rocky depths of the creek. She leaned back in a shallow pool to get all the soap from her hair but Jordan had to help her. Ma would have to set her down after a while and brush her hair for a solid half-hour just to get the lye residue out of her long brown locks while Selie screamed and pleaded for her to stop.
He was the first to hear Ma yell for them to come for supper. He pretended like he didn’t hear her. However the next time she hollered, they all heard it.
Jordan drip-dried while he helped Selie get dressed. Jake and Eamon were already running down the path to the house with their trousers tucked under their arm.
“Are you Abigail McCoy’s kin?” a soft voice asked from behind a briar thicket, hidden in the shadow of a massive oak tree.
Jordan jumped into his breeches and jerked them up over this waist.
“Who?” he asked, and then put his hand up to his forehead to shield the bright sunlight from his eyes. It didn’t help much and he could only see a small silhouette standing in the darkness.
“Abigail McCoy – the seeing woman.”
“Uh . . . yes. She’s my grandmother,” Jordan stammered. Selie hid behind Jordan and peeked out around his leg.
Jordan recognized the golden-haired waif the moment she stepped out onto the rocks. It was Sissy Mae Wheeler. Her family owned the place near the edge of the mountain, just beyond Uncle Tate’s. She asked for Abigail McCoy and it confused him for a moment. Sometimes he forgot Grandma had another name.
“Can you take me to her?” she asked. Her voice cracked as if she was fighting back tears.
“I guess,” Jordan shrugged. “Come on.”
Jordan took Selie’s hand and led them down the shaded path. The forest floor looked speckled as rays of sunlight found passage through the budding leaves.
“You alright?” he asked Sissy Mae.
“Yes’um,” she answered, but her voice was distant.
They didn’t talk anymore and Sissy Mae waited by the back door while Jordan went inside.
“Is supper ready?” Jordan asked.
“Not quite.”
“What’d you call us for if supper ain’t ready?” He spotted a plate of fresh apple fritters. “Can I have one?”
“Because you linger there too long and no - they’re for after supper,” she answered
“Sissy Mae’s outside,” Jordan said. “Said she needed to talk to Grandma.”
“Sissy Mae who?”
“Sissy Mae Wheeler.”
“Oh gracious,” Ma said and patted a few loose strands of hair back into some pins. “I didn’t know the Wheelers were coming, did you?”
“Nope.”
Ma walked into the front room and peered out the front door.
“The Wheelers aren’t here,” she hollered.
“It’s just Sissy Mae,” Jordan said. “I didn’t see no one else. She’s out back.”
“Well go get her.”
&nb
sp; Jordan went back outside and led Sissy Mae into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for her then plopped in the one in the corner.
“What are you doing all the way over here by yourself?” Ma asked and wiped a rouge strand of hair out of the girl’s tired red eyes.
“I need to see Miss Abigail,” she said then started crying. “I need her help.”
“I see,” Ma said. She knelt down and gently rubbed the hysterical girl on the back. “I can’t do that baby. Abigail’s services are only for grown-ups willing to pay. Are you hungry?”
“I’m a little hungry I suppose,” Sissy said. “But I don’t want your food. I need to see Miss Abigail. I don’t have no money, but I’d be willing to work it off somehow.”
“I’m sorry, we mustn’t bother Abigail right now,” Ma said. “You best be getting home before it gets dark.”
Sissy stood up and whispered something into Ma’s ear. Jordan struggled to hear what she said, but didn’t catch any of it.
“You wait here. Jordan, go get your grandma.”
Jordan rushed out the back door and over to the cellar where Grandma spent most of her time in a cramped storeroom Pa had built above it.
“Grandma!” Jordan yelled as he hopped the creek and ran up the bank. “Someone needs to see you over at the house!”
“Who is it?” she asked as she walked outside, drying her hands on her apron.
“Sissy Mae Wheeler.”
“Oh.”
“Where you expecting her?” Jordan asked. Grandma certainly didn’t seem surprised.
“No . . . I don’t reckon . . .” Grandma answered, and then her voice trailed off.
By the time he’d walked back to the house with Grandma, Ma had poured two cups of shine from the jar they’d brought back from town over a week ago.
“You best leave now,” Ma said to Jordan and pointed to the door.
Jordan rolled his eyes and stomped outside. His first thought was to go and find Eamon or Jake but instead he planted himself on the steps of the back stoop. He could see Willow in the forest, just beyond the clearing, checking the sap buckets. Selie had found her and was holding her hand.
“Oh dear Lord,” Grandma shouted. Her shrill voice sent an icy chill down his spine.
He wanted to run inside to see what was going on, but he didn’t want to get the strap taken to his backside for interrupting something secret. It scared him because her voice rarely got an octave above a hoarse whisper.
Ma barreled out the door and hit Jordan on the back of the head with the door frame. He went reeling to the ground. She looked a bit surprised to see him lying in the dirt but offered no apologies.
“Get Pa, now!” she yelled at him.
Jordan got to his feet but his head a still reeling.
“Get up and go!” she ordered and ran back into the house.
Jordan found Pa in the barn, cleaning the shears. He’d been clipping the sheep off and on for two weeks now and had a substantial pile of wool bundles stacked up in the loft. It would be going to market in a few weeks. He hoped he didn’t have to go. They’d probably run off again and leave him to unload everything by himself.
“Ma needs you,” Jordan said.
“Tell her I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Pa said and wiped a drop of sweat from the tip of his nose.
“She said now,” Jordan stammered. “Grandma hollered something awful. I think she was doing a reading.”
Pa tossed Jordan the shears.
“Put these back in the chest and for God’s sake, be careful. I just sharpened them.”
Pa took off running to the house. Jordan tossed the shears into the wooden box, slammed the lid closed, and ran after him.
He was out of breath by the time he got back to the house. Pa had left the back door wide open and Jordan crouched down beside the stoop so he could hear what was being said. Of course, he was gasping for air and hoped no one would hear him.
“What do you mean, a baby?” Pa asked. “Her?”
“Yes,” Ma answered.
“Is it Eamon’s?” he asked.
Jordan froze.
Chapter 4
Jordan fell back on the ground and struggled to catch his breath, wishing he hadn’t heard what he had just heard. He shouldn’t be spying. A flood of guilt rushed through him and he shivered, not from a chill, but from pure regret. This wasn’t the same as swiping a cookie when no one was watching or pulling Selie’s hair to make her cry. This was serious. He was eavesdropping on words that shouldn’t be overheard. A voice inside his head screamed at him to run away, but his limbs wouldn’t listen.
Sissy Mae and Eamon? That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? If it was true, then when in the world did it happen? Where did they meet up? His mind was a jumble of questions. What about Becca, Eamon’s girlfriend? She sure wasn’t going to be happy about this. Eamon will have to marry Sissy Mae, after all. Pa would see to it.
The back of his breeches were wet because he happened to sit down in the very spot where Ma poured the wash water earlier. He couldn’t lean back much because the splintered wood sheathing kept catching his hair.
Prissy, Willow’s old cat, sauntered up and rubbed her soft fur against his arm. Any other time he’d have shoved her away because he didn’t care much for cats, but her quiet purr relaxed him a bit. He picked her up and sat her on his lap.
“No, it’s not Eamon’s child,” Ma said.
“Thank the Lord,” Finnian said.
Jordan blew out a deep breath and leaned in closer to the open doorway.
“Nealy is the father,” Grandma said.
Jordan’s body stiffened.
“Jordan!” Willow called. “What are you doing?”
Jordan jumped. She’d managed to get within six feet of his hiding place and he didn’t even hear her coming. She stood with her hands on her hips and stared at him out of the corner of her eyes, just like Ma did when she caught him doing something wrong.
“Quiet,” he whispered, and motioned for her to join him.
Willow left her pails on the ground, tiptoed over, and hunkered down beside Jordan. Prissy got up and climbed into her lap.
“What’s going on?”
“Shhh. Where’s Selie?”
“Playing with the kittens out front.”
“Listen. . . .Sissy Mae’s going to have a baby.”
“No!” Willow gasped, put her hand to her mouth and cocked her head to hear more.
The voices inside the house were barely audible over Sissy Mae’s bawling.
“What are we going to do?” Ma asked.
“Nothing,” Finnian said. “This is between old man Wheeler and Tate. Feed the girl and send her home.”
“But Finnian,” Bess protested. “You know Wheeler’s temper. He’ll beat the daylights out of her when he finds out.”
“Oh shoot, he ain’t going to beat her and even if he does, he’s too old now to hurt her much. It ain’t no good to get involved,” Finnian responded. “Ain’t no good at all. Should’ve turned her away when she told you. No need to waste Abigail’s time, especially when she couldn’t even pay.”
“You can’t send me back there!” Sissy screamed. “He’ll kill me!”
“You should have thought about that before you and Nealy got so friendly,” Finnian snapped and stormed out the back door.
“I’m sorry!” Sissy screamed after him, as if his opinion mattered.
Willow and Jordan cowered in the shadows as Pa blew past them in a silent rage.
“We’d better get,” Willow said. “We’ll get the strap if they find out we was listening.” She crawled off, grabbed her buckets and scurried around the side of the house.
Jordan knew she was right, but couldn’t make himself move. All he could hear was Sissy Mae gasping for air through uncontrollable sobs. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and started to run, but stopped when he heard clear voices.
“Miss Abigail, do you have some medicine I can take to get rid of it?”
Sissy Mae asked.
“No child,” Abigail answered. Her voice was soft and ethereal. “We must live with our sins and ask God daily for forgiveness. It’ll be alright. I saw nothing that told me that your child will perish.”
“What about me?”
“Go on now,” Ma said. “Your ma will be worried sick.”
Jordan heard Grandma shuffle out of the room. He hoped she remembered her walking stick that he leaned against her chair before he was asked to leave.
Sissy Mae still sat in the chair sobbing.
“Miss Abigail’s done with you child,” Ma said. “You can’t ask her to join you in hell for killing that child. That abomination you carry inside you may be my husband’s kin, but with Nealy gone now, the burden is yours and yours alone. Now, eat your biscuit and get on home.”
“Yes ma’am,” Sissy Mae whimpered.
Jordan peeled himself from the side of the house and hurried to the closest outbuilding. Even though the outhouse was just a few yards away, he peed in the daffodils sprouts. He plopped down by a broken wheelbarrow parked beneath an oak tree and acted like he’d been right there the whole time.
He felt sorry for Sissy Mae. She was so distraught. He knew all about breeding and babies because life on the farm taught him all about birthing, living, and dying at a very young age. He’d also heard all about mortal sin from Church.
Nealy and Sissy Mae. Who would have ever thought? Nealy had stopped by on his way to Lewisburg two days after Uncle Tate’s visit, to say goodbye to them. He chatted, laughed, and threw Selie around like she was a rag doll. He accepted Ma’s sack of cornbread and sausages, as well as a few coins from Pa, and rode off in the dust towards the main road. He must have known, but if he did, he wasn’t too concerned about it.
“Supper’s ready,” Ma bellowed from the kitchen.
In all his excitement and sneaking around, he forgot how hungry he was when he first got back from the creek. He jumped up and ran for the house. He’d have to eat fast or he’d only get one of the apple fritters.
