by Bush, Holly
“Do I still owe anything on the property?”
“No mortgage. Your father paid it in full. But apparently last year’s taxes are overdue. Let me see here. Yes, here it is. $82.63 will clear the taxes. I can take care of that for you when your property on Church Street is sold, if you’d like,” the banker said.
James never paid the taxes on his own property. Father paid them until his death and mother and I had no idea we owed anything. Olive felt betrayed by a family secret but empowered all the same. She was a property owner, a landowner with money in the bank and more to come on the sale of her house. She was free. When all was said and done, she would have enough to last a lifetime.
“Mr. Cummings mentioned that your family had always been judicious savers and careful spenders.” Mr. Holmes smiled and said, “I’d be happy to help you in any way I can.”
Can’t wait to get his fingers in my money, Olive thought and smiled primly. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes, for everything but I believe you’ve explained everything I need to know.”
The lilt of Olive’s step was near a skip and she in all honesty wanted to run down the street to the postmaster. The letter to her employer, resigning, so painstakingly written flew from her hand to the man behind the counter. Olive had been careful to leave the option of returning to the library open, but now the thought could not have been further from her mind. She smiled and called to passersby’s, grinning and nodding and she wanted to throw the black bonnet far in to the air.
“Miss Wilkins, good to see you,” the sheriff said as he stepped from the jail. “Feeling better then?”
“Much better, Sheriff Bentley,” Olive said.
“You look lovely today, Olive. May I call you Olive? Smiling and gay,” the sheriff said and leaned closer. “Looks like those bruises are healing fine.”
“I’m doing quite well today. Thank you. But I am very busy and I must be getting home,” Olive said.
“Where’s Jacob?” the sheriff asked.
“At the farm,” she replied.
“He let you ride alone in town? What was he thinking?”
“Really sheriff, it’s fine,” Olive said and placed her hand on the agitated man’s arm. “I came to town to conduct some business on my own. I don’t need an escort.”
“Any young woman as lovely as you needs an escort. Let me get my horse. I’ll ride out with you,” the sheriff said.
“Young? Oh really sheriff, you do know how to spin a tale,” Olive said. “But truly, I’ll be fine.” Olive turned from the man while he flustered and fluttered and she headed down the street with a light step to the wagon.
Olive tilted her head back to the sun and stretched her back as she rode home. With the information Mr. Holmes’s had given her she felt a thousand choices were at hand for the taking. She was no man’s wife, no parent’s child, and she was truly able to decide for herself what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Her obligations to John and Mary were the only consideration she had. And now, she could send the children to school or college and they could live wherever they wanted.
Before knowing she owned James’s farm, she had hoped only to continue paying the mortgage payments and fix the house for her and the children. But the money and her uncontested ownership of the property changed everything. She had hoped to employ a sharecropper to work the land, therefore giving her the bank payments and slowly make the shack of James’s and Sophie’s a home. But that would be unnecessary. With no mortgage payment to make every year, her options were wide open. They could travel or live in a large city. Or on a farm, Olive thought.
Olive smiled to herself again, even though her ribs ached when the thought of living on the farm entered her head. I don’t need to find the children and I a new home. We have one. Whatever drawbacks a town such as Spencer had, Olive was sure she would find more wherever she decided to raise the children.
Olive chuckled, thinking about the pitfalls of Church Street. She hadn’t known they existed until she left and she was sure Spencer would present problems of it’s own. But this solution would relieve so many aches in her heart. Olive had found she dearly treasured the land and it’s sweet smell in the morning. She had found love in the faces of Luke and Peg and even Mark. She had made friends in Jack and Beth and Bill and Florence and they returned the friendship faithfully. And she had found Jacob. His quiet, strong demeanor, his loyalty and love to his lost wife, his devotion for his children was so true, she knew she would never meet a better man.
“Hello children,” she called as she pulled the wagon in front of the house. “I have peppermint sticks for everyone.”
Luke and Peg were screaming and shouting and John was jumping up and down with excitement. Mary stood at the door and waved to her.
“What are those for?”
“Because Mary, it’s a beautiful day and you’ve all been wonderful to me while I was in bed. These are a treat everyone deserves,” Olive said and pulled the candies from the small paper sack. Mary shrugged and popped the candy in her mouth.
Olive saw Jacob coming from the barn. She was standing in the wagon handing out the treats when she noticed the look on his face. “A peppermint stick will surely fix that frown Mr. Butler.”
The children giggled with her teasing but sobered at Jacob’s scowl, deciding to return to their game.
* * *
Jacob stood and waited till the children were out of earshot.
“Where in the hell have you been?”
“Mr. Butler, really, such language,” Olive said but smiled. “The day is too wonderful for that.”
“Did you find the sheriff?”
“What are you talking about?” Olive asked.
Jacob shook his head and looked away. When he returned to Olive’s face, he stared, unforgiving. “Aren’t you concerned what folk will think of you? I would’ve thought for Mary and John’s sakes anyway you’d be awful careful.”
“Mr. Butler,” Olive said and climbed, unaided from the wagon. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything to bring shame on those two children and you know it.”
“In the first place, I, I mean me and the children have been worried about you out this long. Anything could have happened. Could have run into Jeb Davis, the horse could’ve gone lame, you could have been stuck somewhere and then where would you have been,” Jacob asked nearly shouting.
“I suppose Mr. Butler, I would have been wherever I was. I could have walked home. It is still the middle of the day,” Olive replied.
Jacob continued as if Olive had not spoken. “And in the second place,” he leaned to her, “what do you think folks will think of you throwing yourself at the sheriff. Sending him perfumed letters. A woman your age.”
Olive’s eyes opened wide. “I don’t have the foggiest notion what you are talking about.”
“Saw the sheriff today didn’t you?”
“Well, yes. . .” Olive began.
“I suppose that’s the reason for your high mood. Handing out treats to appease your guilty conscience.”
Jacob could not believe what he was saying. But all these thoughts had gone through his head as he worried about Olive’s safety, the whole morning. He was no talker, a doer, he supposed, but this woman deserved a tongue-lashing and by damn he’d break his silence to tell her.
“Although, I owe you no explanation, I will tell you what I did in town today. I went to see Mr. Holmes at the bank. I ran into the sheriff on my way out of town and he offered to escort me home. I declined.”
“And what of the perfumed letter?” Jacob said.
“That’s the only stationary I have with me. I keep a sprig of lilac from my yard back home in the box. I had questions for Mr. Holmes and I sent the letter via the sheriff,” Olive replied.
The two of them stood facing each other until Jacob turned on his heel and went to the barn. I’ve kept my mouth shut for twenty-five years; I should have kept it shut today. Jacob shook his head and thought of the fool he had made of himself.
He swallowed and swore again and didn’t relish the thought of facing Olive over the dinner table. She’ll wrangle an apology out of me, probably in front of the children, he thought. But Jacob had no time to stew as he heard Olive shrilly shouting his name.
“Mr. Butler,” she shouted at his back. “Don’t you dare walk away from me. Whatever conclusions you drew were wrong. I don’t appreciate the implications that I was engaging in some unseemly activities. I can hardly believe you would think that of me. How could you think I was throwing myself at the sheriff? He asked me to dance, at a function where other adults were dancing. I don’t get many invitations, Mr. Butler. I decided, not long ago, to stop letting life pass me by. Who are you to judge? Not everyone has experienced the pain you have but all of us, by God, have our own hurts.”
And I have added to hers, Jacob thought. When he turned to face her his shoulders sagged at the demoralized look on her face. No matter when she smiled it seemed he managed to make her frown and when he realized she fought tears he dropped his head in shame.
“I was wrong, Olive.”
“Yes, you certainly were,” she said and turned from the barn.
When Jacob entered the house, long after dark, Olive, Mary and Peg were already asleep behind the closed curtain of their new room. Mark made soft sounds in his sleep and the boys were huddled together on the bed. Jacob pulled the cover over the two and sat down at the table. Few times in his life had Jacob wanted, really wanted a drink but this was one of them. He moved the boys over a bit and lay down beside them fully dressed.
* * *
The next morning after a somber breakfast, Olive asked to speak to Jacob alone. By the time she had reached the house the night before tears were falling and Olive’s fists were clenched so tight her knuckles were white. She was angry at Jacob’s conclusions that she was a woman of no character, no morals. Her beautiful day and news had fell by the way side, as she fully comprehended Jacob’s thoughts. Her lip trembled and she fought the tightening in her throat. Her hair was pulled back tautly and dark circles lined her eyes. She stood stiffly facing him.
“I learned yesterday at the bank that my brother’s farm is mine and mine alone. I have decided not to return to Philadelphia but intend to set up house keeping on James’s farm as soon as I am able to get someone to build a house for me. Would you be so kind as to tell me who would be able to do the work? I will want it done quickly. I do not intend to infringe on your hospitality a moment longer than necessary.”
* * *
This was why she was so happy yesterday. When did she decide to stay? How did she get her brother’s farm? How would she make the mortgage unless she farmed it? And he was glad. Glad for her, glad for him, she was staying. Not under his roof, but still here in Spencer. This must have been a huge decision for Olive. She would have answered his questions yesterday before he made a jackass of himself. She might have even asked his opinion, although Jacob doubted it.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” Jacob said. Olive looked away and he continued. “Jack Steele does some building once his crops are in. I’m sure he’ll be happy for the work.”
“I’ll have to make arrangements to see him,” she said.
“He was talking about bringing Beth over to see your sewing machine. Why don’t I ride over and ask them to come for dinner on Sunday?”
Olive gave him a small smile. “That would be fine. Let’s hope Mary is able to cook for so many.”
Jacob knew Olive’s barb was intended for him. He nodded and she turned away and gathered the children for chores.
* * *
While the children gathered eggs, Olive sat down to write Theda a letter. Much needed to be explained and Olive struggled to make clear how she had come to her decision without naming Theda’s letter as the culprit. Olive asked her friend to take care of the details she listed about her furnishings. She advised Theda to keep a few pieces for herself, send some treasured furnishings of her parents on and sell the rest in preparation for the sale of her home.
Olive knew Theda would attend to every detail with precision and although seemingly a great burden, it always pleased Theda to be occupied. Her friend’s life was so rigorously scheduled around her mother, that a diversion of this nature would be welcome. She continued her letter and advised any verse from Matthew rather than the disciple Mark and told Theda to accept Mr. Henderson’s invitation to bible studies immediately. Hopefully the Gunnerson’s would keep her cat and the thought of not seeing Tiger again made her pen lift from the page. There were things she was forfeiting, very dear to her, like Tiger and Theda’s companionship but it did not change her mind. Her decision was made and it was best for all concerned. And she could not deny her happiness with it. She liked the work on the farm, liked the challenge of the children and was anticipating planning a home all her own.
Sunday arrived and Olive dressed for church with the girls. She had wanted to thank Jacob for the cupboard with shelves in the room but she had seen little of him and if truth were known she was glad. Olive had enough to occupy her thoughts and when she did think of Jacob she could not help getting angry and hurt all over again. Nothing in her limited experience with men had prepared Olive for the pain she felt when she realized how little he thought of her. Her morals, in Olive’s opinion, were so firm and clear that to hear them questioned by a man she both trusted and liked was devastating. She was no beauty, not charming or stylish or able to be coy and shy, but all of her life she had firmly believed that her greatest attribute was principled convictions.
“I won’t be going to church with you this morning,” Jacob announced at the breakfast table. “I have work that won’t wait, but I’ll be home for supper with Jack and Beth.”
Olive nodded and continued to eat. When Jacob rose left the table Olive told the children she had some news for them. “I have decided not to move back to Philadelphia.” Four heads turned her way, all smiling but Mary.
Peg’s eyes grew wide and she smiled. “She’s staying. She’s staying.”
“In Spencer, yes, but not here on Mr. Butler’s farm.”
“Where you going?” Mary asked.
“Not where am I going. Where are we going, Mary. I am building a small house on your parents land, and we will live there,” Olive said and held her breath waiting for a reaction. Luke and Peg and John’s face fell but Mary eyed her.
“When?” the girl asked.
“As soon as we can get a house built, Mary,” Olive replied.
“Why?” Mary countered.
“Well,” she said, “I found out last week that your farm was actually my father’s all along. With your parents and grandparents gone, the land becomes mine. We can build it up and when you are older, you and John will have working property. A start for you both.”
Luke, Peg and John did not follow Olive’s explanation and just sat staring. But Olive could see Mary’s mind working in her eyes and she knew the girl would have questions.
“My Ma and Pa never owned nothin’?”
“That’s right, Mary,” Olive answered.
“They was squatters?”
“They were squatters?” Olive asked. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I’m sure there was some arrangement worked out between my father and yours. I can’t say more. There is no one left to ask.”
Mary tossed around the information, Olive could see. The girl laid down her fork and looked at her brother.
“We ain’t livin’ in our old house?” she asked.
Olive watched John look at his sister and he looked away blankly from the others. Olive hurried to reassure him. “No, no. We’re going to ask Mr. Steele today if he would have time to begin on a small house closer to the lane. We will be only a short distance from Peg and Luke and Mark.”
The children looked at each other and evaluated. Peg looked worried and Luke stared at his sister then at John’s turned head. The boy shrugged and asked, “Can we come see you? Can we finish the book?”
Olive laug
hed. “Of course. You can come anytime and we will make time for Charles Dickens.”
Luke reached for the bacon and Peg said, “Is there anymore eggs?”
“Are there any more eggs, Peg and yes there are. Would you like some?” the girl nodded and Olive eyed the children as they had seemingly received the news, processed it and hurried on to something else.
“I’m done,” Luke said. “Come on John, lets see if Pa’s got the wagon hitched. Peg followed after stuffing her mouth and Olive and Mary were left alone at the table.
“What do you think, Mary?”
The girl shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Yes it matters. Very much. We’re a family and I want you to be happy,” Olive replied.
“I guess it’ll be alright.” The girl stood and carried the dirty dishes to the sink. “How are just the three of us gonna’ work a farm?”
“I’m not sure but I believe the best thing to do is find some sharecroppers to work the land until we’re able to hire someone to do it. And then when John is old enough he may want to work the land. Or your husband,” Olive said.
“I ain’t ever getting married,” Mary replied.
Mary’s experience with men would have certainly led her to that conclusion, Olive thought. “Never say never, Mary. I would have never dreamed I’d be living here with Mr. Butler or be building a house in Spencer. Circumstances can change, people and their ideas can change, Mary. I know I have.”
“You were daggone sure we was all moving back to Philadelphia when you first come, came here.” Mary didn’t face Olive but continued quietly, “Are ya sure you want us, I mean John and me. I don’t want him getting settled somewheres and then you up and decide ya don’t like us.”
Olive stood and walked to Mary. She turned the girl by the shoulders and looked at her solemnly. “I will never not want you or John. We’re a family. We’re going to make our way together.”
Mary bit her lip and looked away. “My ma used to say all her and Pa’s troubles started when she had kids.”
Olive swallowed at the bitter hurt in Mary’s voice. “Then I, Mary, am exactly the opposite of your mother. My life didn’t begin until you and John.”
