by Annie Boone
As expected, the girls were crowded around one another, laughing and poking each other with the crocheting needles. Susannah gave them one last minute of fun before rapping her knuckles firmly against the door and gave them a pointed look. “I won’t always be around to remind you it’s time to start on supper,” she started. “Everyone’s going to be helping bake tonight.”
Jane’s eyes brightened as Mary squealed. “Are we finally learning to make your pie?”
“Pie?” Lydia glanced at the other girls. “What sort of pie?”
Without answering, Susannah returned to the kitchen. She walked slower, motioning for the girls to trail after her as they excitedly told Lydia about the popular rhubarb and blackberry pie. “Why, she even wins awards for it,” Jane proclaimed, clapping her hands. “And she already made us swear, absolutely swear, that we’d never ever share the recipe.”
Now they were being dramatic. But there was no denying she liked the warmth in her heart as the girls quieted down and started paying close attention. Her eyes roamed for a moment, taking the scene in. Lucas had already wandered off, though she was fairly certain he’d taken to the bench out on the porch to enjoy the setting sun. That is, he’d better be there because she didn’t want any blood in their bedroom.
“Mary, would you mind grabbing the preserves? And Lorelai, we’re also going to need to be working on supper at the same time. Grab the largest pot and we’ll have fish stew this evening. Lucas brought in a nice haul of fish from the river yesterday afternoon. Jane, grab the onions and tomatoes to go in it. Lydia, get the pans and utensils. I’ll show you which ones, come here.”
The women bustled about, only running into each other occasionally and slipping into giggles. It was a large kitchen, and Susannah silently thanked Lucas once again for it. He’d finished building the place just before he’d sent for her ten years ago, and there had been a few folk who criticized his desire for such a large house. They said he was vain. But it was nice, warm, and met their needs.
“What do we do?” Lydia’s eager voice pulled Susannah before she could start into her daydreams again. Blinking, she found all the girls waiting anxiously around the table. The stew had been started, though rather hastily, and was over the fire. It was a good thing then, she’d picked the easiest meal for the evening. It would cook fast and be quite tasty.
Tying her apron around her waist, she joined them at the table with a grin. “Goodness, I’m not certain you’re all ready just yet for this—”
“Yes we are!”
“Please!”
“Don’t back out on us now.”
“Teach us,” Lydia whined. “Won’t you, please?” She even pulled out a chair for her, but Susannah chuckled and put it back.
Glancing around, she pointed to the eggs, and picked up a bowl. “When you make this pie,” she started out carefully, “it’s important to begin with the end in mind, and every step along the way. Every stir matters, every touch, and every berry. Most recipes can handle some shifting about based on what you have on hand. A few more beans, a few less potatoes, or fresh herbs if you have them. But this pie, ladies, every step must be taken with great care.”
The girls looked on and took in every word.
“The eggs, and the butter. Thirty strokes to the right, twenty to the left, and three times again until it’s nice and fluffy.”
Jane watched with a crease in her forehead, already memorizing the information like a proper cook. “But you don’t want a fat pie crust, do you?”
The girls threw her a look to silence her, but Susannah shrugged. “Trust me, you’ll consider every pie crust too thin after this. At least, that’s what my grandmother used to tell me.”
Lydia brightened. “So it’s an old family secret recipe, then?”
She nodded. “Yes, from the streets of France, at least seven generations. So each of you, you’re going to take good care of this, won’t you? I won’t have poor copies being made of this pie, ladies.”
“We promise,” they chorused, and dove right in. Soon all the bowls and spoons were being used, and it became a busy kitchen with supper on the side. It was loud with their conversation and laughter, skirts swishing and smiles on their faces. Susannah’s heart was as light when Lucas came to join them.
Jane gasped. “Goodness gracious!”
The other girls stared as well, but Susannah only frowned. His lip was definitely swollen, and now he wouldn’t be able to kiss her for at least two days. And for that eye of his, he must have taken the cold rag off of it much too soon because the purple discoloration was far darker than before.
Handing the bowl over to Jane, she wiped her hands on her apron and went to him to inspect. She didn’t say anything as he let her touch him carefully, trying not to wince as she considered the swelling. “My, oh my,” she said finally, but decided that enough had been said about his actions. Besides, he had been trying to do the right thing, even if he chose to be a little too creative about it. “Ladies, keep an eye on the berries.” She shooed them back to their activity so she could focus on her husband.
After grabbing bowls of fish stew and biscuits with butter, they went to the only corner of the kitchen that wasn’t being used for the pies. He lifted her up to sit on the counter, but then he winced and she realized she hadn’t checked his ribs. Frowning, she gestured. “How bad is it? You haven’t even changed your shirt, Lucas.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I fell asleep on the porch.”
“You’re not as young as you once were.” She looked up at the ceiling shaking her head. “Fighting scoundrels, saving damsels. You still need your naps in the shade.”
“Now, now. Stop reminding me how old I’m getting to be,” he stopped her with a wounded expression.
As he took a bite of his stew, she leaned forward and kissed the uninjured side of his forehead. Though she sat on the counter, he leaned against it and they became the same height. For a moment Susannah watched him, pressed against her leg as he scooped up more of the stew. When a small crumb rested on the corner of his lips, she impulsively leaned forward and kissed him there, wiping it away.
“What was that for?” His brow widened before glancing at the girls. They weren’t even paying attention, too focused on sprinkling the right amount of sugar over the berries to notice they were in the room. Lucas and Susannah were usually on their best behavior for the girls, after all, and rarely even linked arms around each other. The dance in the kitchen was a rare event, though they’d all enjoyed the frivolity.
He was tired, she could see that. The man needed another nap, and a few nights of good sleep. Something pulled on her heartstrings, knowing that it could be her fault. Not only did they have more people coming and going in the house, but a few of them snored. And she knew that her own inability to sleep straight through the night often affected him as well. “I’m sorry,” she said finally.
The man paused. “What for?”
Sighing, she shrugged and glanced around. “All of it, I suppose. It’s not like this is what you planned for, is it? Ten years down the road, a house full of strange women taking over your kitchen, and a wife who can’t sleep through the night.”
“Mrs. Jessup! Is it time? I think it’s time! Can we put the crust on now? Can we braid it?” Lydia hurried over with all of the other girls watching hopefully. Such bright-eyed women, eager for a small adventure like making pies.
Lucas chuckled as she gave him a sympathetic expression and hopped down. Leaving her food and husband in the corner, she fixed her apron and showed the girls how to do a different twisted weave than most pies. One by one they tried it out until the two pies were well covered, and then placed them in their little oven.
“Just from the smell, they’re going to be delicious,” Lucas finished his food and clapped for the ladies. “Well done.”
They blushed politely and began to clean up the mess they had made. Lucas winked at Susannah before heading to their bedroom. Hopefully, she pondered, he would tend to t
hose ribs of his. But she let it go, knowing he wasn’t foolish enough not to clean himself up before bed, and turned back to the women.
“They smell amazing indeed. Let’s finish cleaning up while the pies bake, shall we? They should be ready to eat before bed and if we’re lucky, we can do our reading while they cool down.”
Everyone bustled around obediently, cleaning and reading before the pies came out. Lydia, the only one who hadn’t yet tasted the pie, moaned happily and they begged for seconds. Tomorrow, Susannah promised them, and they finished their reading.
They read the story of David and Goliath, with the girls wondering again about men they would be marrying. But this time around, they didn’t ask Susannah and instead chose to dream and romanticize their upcoming marriages.
Chapter Sixteen
But which woman didn’t dream about her future husband? Her wedding day? Allowing the girls to dream was part of the process.
She ushered them off to bed and blew out the candles before walking slowly to her own room. Carefully, Susannah pushed the door open and peeked inside to see Lucas there, sitting against the headboard, one hand over his ribs as he stared out the open window.
She had been too nervous, Susannah remembered, to romanticize about him too much in the beginning. Though there were dreams of the cowboys, all she heard about the west growing up was that it was a dangerous place, a hard place, and not a proper place for women.
They spoke of towns without churches and morals, of brawls and shoot outs, of saloons filled with indecent behavior. This was all between the romantic cowboy songs and poems, of course, but it was the uncertainties that had been pressed upon her the most towards the end.
“We might get one more snow fall,” he spoke up finally, never looking her way.
It made her smile. She kept the door hinges well oiled, convinced that someday she could surprise him. But his instincts were too good for her still, and he was the only one who could usually pass by undetected. I’ll give it another ten years, Susannah thought, and stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her.
“Do you think so?” She mused and walked over to his side with the window. She looked around curiously, and sniffed the air, wondering how he could tell. “It’s been so lovely.”
“Too lovely,” he nodded. “Yes, one more snow.”
“And it won’t be rain?” She raised her eyebrow at him as she closed the curtains. “You’re quite certain, Lucas.”
He patted the bedding beside him, inviting her over. She went, but scooted closer to pull away his hand and inspect the damage she had yet to see. The candlelight wasn’t good, but there was an obvious large bruise forming. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. There had been too many bruises to count over the years.
“I’m fine,” Lucas told her while she brushed her fingers lightly around his skin. The man inhaled sharply, and gripped her hand. “You’re rather cold, my dear.”
Grudgingly she pulled away and got up to change into her nightgown. “We put out the fire sooner than usual. Or rather, the girls spent more time talking together.”
It was his turn to give her a skeptical look. “And you didn’t try to get them to bed?”
She shrugged. “They’re just so excited and happy.”
He frowned. “But you could have come in here sooner.”
That made her smile and as she turned to face him. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw that he was grinning back at her. Fixing the sleeves on her clothes, she lifted up the hem and climbed into the large bed beside him. “You have a good point.”
“I always have a good point,” he reminded her. But Susannah gave him a stern look at his ribs and he groaned in annoyance. “Susannah, darling, I—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I know. You did it for a good reason. But because you chose this method, this is what happens. You’ll pay the consequences. As usual.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She interrupted him again but this time with a kiss on the nose.
“Wait, you can do better than that…”
This was what she meant. Susannah kissed his lips, and though he welcomed it, a second later she could feel him pulling back after feeling the pressure on his puffy lip.
“Ah,” he managed, trying not to show that it bothered him.
The man could certainly have his childish moments. Susannah snorted and slipped beneath the blankets. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll wrap up those ribs of yours. Do you understand?” She blew out her candle though he was groaning again.
“I don’t need anyone fussing over me,” he said, and groaned again as he tried to get comfortable lying down. Immediately she gave him an extra pillow and stared him down until he took it, so he could be well propped up and comfortable enough to sleep. “Stop it,” he muttered.
She couldn’t help a laugh escape her lips. He always pouted once the thrill of the fight ended and he was left to succor his wounds. “Oh you keep us both young, Lucas. One way or another. But stop whining and let’s get some sleep. Clearly you could use it.”
“A man—,” his voice cracked and then he quickly cleared his throat. “A man shouldn’t have to put up with this kind of treatment from his woman,” he repeated in a deeper voice.
Susannah yawned and squeezed his hand.
“Of course, you’re right. But things don’t always go as they should, do they? Good night, my love.”
Then she turned over to her other side, letting him know she was ready for sleep. Still, she could feel him pouting and it made her smile. In moments like these she had too much fun with Lucas, though she knew in the morning there was a chance she might feel a little guilty. But only a little.
Chapter Seventeen
Boston, Massachusetts; 1872
It was overcast, as usual. Grim clouds covered the skies and the sun was hiding behind them. Turning in a circle, Susannah couldn’t help but smile to herself. Boston was, in its own way, saying goodbye to her. The city was also ensuring she wouldn’t miss it much. It had worried her that she might spend the day in tears, but the cloudy skies confirmed that she was doing the right thing.
Her mother came out of the house, a worn-down woman with big eyes brimming with tears. She held a handkerchief to her nose and the other arm wrapped around her middle, always near to catching another sickness. A tall woman, she was always hunched over trying to make herself smaller.
Susannah watched her draw closer with a mix of love and a sympathy she’d carried all her life for the woman who had raised her. She’d done her best, but her mother had struggled with just about everything along the way.
But her three aunts had come by often, always there to help. If Susannah could have anything at that moment, it would be the warm hugs from all her aunts, right there and then. Though there were cozy letters for her to read and reread, it wasn’t the same as smelling Martha’s peppermint oils, laughing with Sally, and having Ruby’s fresh bread for a snack.
“Are you all packed, then?”
Her hands clutched her bag tightly. Suddenly it felt so light, though she’d packed everything she could fit. It wasn’t like she could take that much, for she knew it would be a different place, different home, a different way of life.
But now Susannah worried it wasn’t enough, that she would be ill-prepared. “I think so,” she managed a sheepish smile.
For a minute her father gazed at her, now that they were at eye level. The man’s eyes misted over, and she knew it was the closest thing she would receive to a hug from him. Having grown up with a poor and rough family, the man had worked in a factory for his entire adult life. She suspected the later years of his childhood had been spent working hard, too.
Everything he did was rather mechanical, from the way he always sat on the first left pew in the church to the way he methodically cut up each piece of his meal before taking a bite. A hardworking man, he had taught her so many valuable lessons, and she wondered about the wisdom of leaving for another man’s
house.
“We don’t want to be late,” he said at last. “So, let’s be going.” Taking his wife’s arm, the two of them led the way down the street, crunching through the snow. Only eight blocks from the station, they walked together in the gray afternoon. Susannah trailed behind, already uncomfortable in her jacket and realizing her bag was not that light, after all.
Everything they needed was close, since they were located just a few streets over from Main Street. The factory was twelve blocks east, with their church building four blocks north. Susannah’s school had been just another block from the church, and the train station was east of them.
It was exciting as it was terrifying, Susannah decided. The thumping of her heart was so hard, it nearly gave her a headache. All her life she’d had dreams about the big adventures and exciting stories, always certain she would have a lifetime filled with excitement.
But over the last couple of years, as she’d watched all her friends getting married and having children. Many families were still struggling after the war between the states. In the midst of all this, Susannah had realized she probably wouldn’t be traveling the world or saving children from harrowing exploits or becoming a princess.
And so it was this singular adventure that Susannah had realized she wanted. Just one journey, and one that would last her a lifetime. The western part of the country was always changing and growing, or so she read. A place filled with as many outlaws as fields of wheat and corn. More adventurers than mountains. She was wary, but there was a small inkling of hope that she just might have something special out there.
“Susannah?”
She bumped into her mother and blinked. “What? Oh, here already.”
They had stopped, having arrived at the train station much faster than she expected. Glancing around at the wintery snow-covered buildings, her heart suddenly went still as she realized that she was about to say good-bye to her parents. Probably for good.
